We were called to a barricaded subject who’s either very drunk or hallucinating. He’s doing some odd things. Slashing himself and spraying blood all over his girlfriend’s house. We’re in the kitchen of the neighbor’s house, negotiating with this guy over the phone.
The tactical lieutenant said to us, “Our guys need to see him. Tell him to turn all the lights on.”
We tell him, “We need you to do us a favor, Bob.”
The guy turns them all off, and comes back on the line, proud as a peacock, “OK, I turned them off.”
“No Bob. We need them on. Turn all the lights on.”
“Oh, sorry.” He drops the phone and goes through the house turning the lights on. He’s compliant, but confused, like a little kid.
We can’t see because there’s a fence there, but Tactical radios us, “OK, they’re on.”
Now, without consulting anybody, the negotiator says just like this, “No, Bob. I wanted a Bud Lite.” We just all burst out laughing and laughing.
Then he starts laughing.
Now while he’s laughing the tactical guys just go in and take him out. To this day the negotiator doesn’t know why he said that. It just popped into his head. You had to be there.