Fluid Friction: The Case for Friction in Public Safety Design

Abstract

I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO DO…

The moment she heard the beep come through her headset, Tess switched gears immediately. Moments earlier, she'd just wrapped up a non-emergency 101 call with a man who had found himself face to face with a weasel in his back garden. She and her colleagues had been shaking their heads, chuckling away in disbelief at some of the benign, decidedly non-emergency situations that are beamed into their ears – stray cats urinating on front lawns, a neighbor's tree trespassing across a garden fence, unanticipated weasels. There was nothing benign about this call though. The man on the other end, Sid, was inconsolable. He sounded elderly, soft and gravelly at the same time. His son had assaulted him and threatened to kill him. Where was his son now? Asleep on the sofa, passed out drunk. Sid didn't know what to do anymore. He loved his son – what father doesn't? – but he couldn't handle it anymore. He was terrified of him, especially when he'd been drinking. His son is a martial arts expert. A violent man, he repeats, over and over. Tess tries to keep Sid calm. The elderly voice is a torrent of grief, pain, and regret. But Tess needs to keep Sid focused. She needs to know the address. She needs to know the nature of the threat. Already, she's heard enough in these first few seconds to mark the call as the highest priority – her controller on the other side of the room dispatching officers to the address immediately. Sid wants to tell the whole story – which tumbles out of him in fits and spurts. How things took a turn when his wife died last year. How lonely he's felt. How much he wishes he could help his son. How much he loves him. But also, that he's afraid he'll wake up from his drunken stupor and kill him. Tess, though, doesn't have time for the whole story. She's assertive, cutting Sid off to get what she needs. His son's name and date of birth. The layout of the house. How much he has drunk. His attitude towards the police. Whether Sid has anywhere to hide until the police arrive. I don't know what to do, Sid repeats, lost in the paralyzing reality that he has been forced to call the police on his own son, knowing what this will mean for what little remains of their relationship. Tess has gotten the information she needs to wrap up the call, satisfied that the officers who arrive on scene have the context they need to make an optimal risk assessment. Tess takes a deep breath, finally allowing her tone to shift into a gentler, more compassionate register. She asks if Sid is okay. He doesn't answer. Instead, he sobs. She says she's sorry that this has happened to him, reassuring him that help is on the way. She tells him to call 999 if anything changes. The call ends and Tess takes another deep breath, waiting for the next beep.