A Little Common Sense

The following story was inspired by an incident in which a bag of aluminum sulfate hydrate was discovered beside the highway while the author was on duty as a public safety telecommunicator.  Several of the actions of the officers were as depicted in the story.  But not all of them.  Raymond Spitzer wrote the story in 1995 but it was never published.  This is a bonus for readers of The Ted White Mystery Series Web Site.  The town in this story is called Greenway, Arizona.  This is obviously a fictitious name for Ajo.

 

Little Appleby Smith shoveled his toy dump truck full of sand, ran it up a board ramp, engine chugging, backed around on the doorstep of the large RV, and dumped it into the white bag with bold red letters.  He must have already done it thirty times, and he was still squealing and giggling as the sand poured down.

            “Appleby, time to come in,” said his mother.  “We’re getting ready to leave.”

            His mother called twice more, her voice getting a little more perturbed each time.  Finally she came out, gathered up the three-year-old, and carried him into the motor home.  Appleby cried all the way.

            His father came around, set the bag of sand by a creosote bush, and loaded in the doorstep.  His sister fell and skinned her hands, and his father forgot completely about the bag of sand.

            The white bag with red letters still sat there when the RV pulled away.

            Presently a car turned into the rest area.  White-haired Josephine Verducci got out to stretch her legs and drink a soda.  She always stopped here this time of year to enjoy the white sand, yellow desert marigolds, orange poppies, white verbena, blue lupine, pink penstemon, and the backdrop of pale green prickly pear cactus, cholla with its segments massed with sharp spines, towering saguaros, distant purple mountains, and deep blue sky. 

            This time, however, she noticed the white bag.  ‘People are so thoughtless, littering a beautiful garden spot like this,’ she thought. ‘I’ll just have to throw it out myself.’  Then she noticed the red letters, which said, “Aluminum Sulfate Hydrate.”  She suddenly became more cautious.  What was that?  Josephine decided not to throw the bag away after all, or to even touch it, but she was bothered all the way back to town.  As she was passing the “Greenway City Limits” sign she had a thought.

            Sheriff’s 911 dispatcher Abel Brown was having a busy day.  A simple request to set up a landing zone for a medical helicopter to transport a snake bite victim had been quickly followed by a traffic accident and a domestic dispute.  Since he was the only dispatcher on duty, he had to handle all the radio traffic as well as all telephone calls.

            Now came a call from dear old Josephine Verducci who was always calling about something.  This call concerning a bag found beside the highway fifteen miles outside of town seemed as harmless as most of her calls.  Aluminum sulfate hydrate.  Was it a hazardous material?  He didn’t know, so he started a call in the computer for found property.  The accident, which was only five miles from the bag, was winding down.  Abel advised Sgt. Bacon of the call, and soon one of the officers went southbound to find the paper bag.

            Deputy Geronimo Jones #3210 advised he was on the scene.  A minute later he was asking for assistance to find out what aluminum sulfate hydrate was and how it should be handled.

            When dispatcher Abel Brown got a chance, he called the hazardous materials section in Tucson.  “Johnson speaking.  Aluminum sulfate hydrate?  Hmm.  Let me check.  Hold the line, please.”

            Sgt. Bacon asked Deputy Jones by radio, “What is in the bag?”

            “Aluminum sulfate hydrate.  I wonder if it is used in water treatment.  Lots of RV’s park down in this area.”

            “What is the condition of the bag?”

            “It has been opened and has obviously been handled quite a bit.  It’s slightly more than half full, now.  It looks a lot like white sand.”

            “You didn’t get any on you, did you?”

            “Negative. I put on gloves to move the bag so I could read the back.”

            “What’s it say?”

            “‘Danger!  Avoid inhalation.  May irritate the skin.’”

            “Stand by upwind until we know more about it.”

            “Ten-four.”

            Sgt. Bacon checked out at the sewage treatment plant just as Johnson of hazardous materials said to dispatcher Brown, “I don’t have any information on aluminum sulfate hydrate.  Try the state office in Phoenix.”

            Sgt. Bacon radioed Deputy Jones, “The sewage treatment people are going to check their bags to see if they have the same material.”

            Meanwhile, Geronimo Jones was chafing at guarding a bag which looked, frankly, to contain sand.  No accounting for the innocuous appearance of dangerous chemicals.

            Sgt. Bacon radioed again, “Their bags are not the same.  They have activated alumina.”

            “This just looks like sand.”

            “Nevertheless, until we know more, keep your distance.”

            Finally, Abel Brown of communications radioed, “The state hazardous materials department says that aluminum sulfate hydrate is used in black water tanks.  They advise not to let it get wet.”

            Sgt. Bacon asked Deputy Jones if he had his emergency blanket and shovel. Geronimo Jones rolled his eyes.  Bacon continued, “Cover the bag with your emergency blanket and make an earthen berm on the edges to protect it just in case of a freak thunderstorm.”

            Jones looked at the cloudless blue sky and shook his head, but he followed orders.

            Sgt. Bacon radioed again, “Is the bag on the highway right of way?”

            “Affirmative.”

            “I will contact ADOT and turn it over to them.  Stand by until they can respond.”

            Sgt. Bacon called the Greenway office of ADOT, the Arizona Department of Transportation, and was soon talking to his friend, Homer Hobbs, who said, “Aluminum sulfate hydrate?  What’s that?”

            Bacon told him.

            Hobbs sighed.  “Don’t you wish we could just ignore calls like this?”

            “I know what you mean.  In the old days we’d have just chucked the bag in the garbage and forgotten it.  Now we have all the safety rules in the world to follow.  We recently got a new hazardous materials book.  Know what’s in it?  Hand soap!”

            “It’s the same in our department.  I say, ‘Get a life.  Let people use a little common sense.’”

            “And then they sue.  Or else some environmental organization sues.”

            “Yeah.  Okay, we’ll break out the protective suits and be rolling in a few.”

            “Thanks, Homer.”

            As Deputy Geronimo Jones watched car after car zip past him, many of them northbound from Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument and most of them speeding, he decided to run traffic while he guarded the bag under the blue blanket.

            Meanwhile in the town of Greenway, twelve-year-old Shakespeare Morales took a break from the internet.  His mother, as usual, was listening to the police scanner while she did housework.  He stopped dead in his tracks while reaching for the refrigerator door.  He said, “What’s aluminum sulfate hydrate?”

            His mother looked up from dusting.  “I don’t know.  They found a bag of it at milepost 55 and they don’t seem to know what to do with it.”

            “Really?”

            “They’re so afraid of it, they had the deputy cover it with a blanket.”

            A wonderful, juicy practical joke occurred to Shakespeare.  As he forgot about the snack he had been seeking and hurried back to his computer, the scanner picked up Deputy Jones’ transmission, “Three two one zero, traffic.”

            911 dispatcher Abel Brown said, “Three two one zero.”

            “Arizona personalized: delta, delta, tango.  Milepost 55.”

            Shakespeare practically squealed with delight as he accessed Cable America News and composed the following:  “Be advised that a bag of aluminum sulfate hydrate, but actually containing plutonium stolen from Russia, has been left in the Arizona desert south of Greenway.  It was being smuggled into the United States by undocumented aliens (UDA’s) to provide fuel for a nuclear device to be used in a 9/11 style terrorist attack on the Palo Verde Nuclear Reactor west of Phoenix.  The smugglers were being pursued by Border Patrol agents when they jettisoned it.” 

            Shakespeare Morales laughed out loud as he hit “send” and then turned on Cable America News to see if they would take the bait.

            On his mother’s scanner, 911 dispatcher Able Brown was saying, “Is the subject code ten?”

            Deputy Geronimo Jones said, “Negative.”

            Brown continued, “Ten twenty-nine returns ten eighty-eight foxtrot for armed robbery out of Maricopa County.  No bond.”

            Jones said, “Go ahead and confirm.”

            Even while babysitting a bag of aluminum sulfate hydrate Geronimo Jones had captured a fugitive from justice.  Both Sgt. Bacon and another deputy headed his way for back-up even as a Border Patrol unit stopped to assist.

            In Atlanta, Cable America’s top announcer, Anthony Truman, read the E-mail sent by Shakespeare Morales.  He, too, laughed out loud.  ‘What an imagination,’ he thought.  And then he stopped laughing.  It was a slow news day.  A lighter side treatment of such a rumor might make the air.  He picked up the phone.

            911 dispatcher Able Brown gasped.  He was talking to the one and only Anthony Truman. The radio was clamoring, however, and he had to put the newscaster on hold.

            When he got back to Truman, he said, “Yes, a bag of aluminum sulfate hydrate has been discovered.”

            Truman said, “We’re checking out a rumor that the bag may contain plutonium.  Can you confirm or deny that?”

            “Plutonium?”  The phone rang again.  Dispatcher Brown put Truman on hold, again.  The new caller said he had waked up with a sty in his eye, and he couldn’t find boric acid anywhere in town.  Rather than drive forty miles to Mexico to purchase some, he wanted to talk to the doctor on call.  Brown thought, ‘For a sty?’  But he paged the doctor.

            Truman was still on the line.  “I understand you’re busy.  Is there anyone else I can talk to?”

            Abel Brown radioed Sgt. Bacon.  “Can you ten-nineteen to take a ten-twenty-one  from Cable America News?”

            “What do they want?”

            Brown switched to voice privacy.  “They’re checking a rumor that the bag contains plutonium.”

            Shakespeare Morales whooped when he heard Cable America News give a plug for a report on a bag of plutonium as it broke for commercial, bringing his mother running.  “Shakespeare, what have you been up to, now?”

            “I’m just watching Cable America News, Mom.”

            She looked him skeptically but went back to work.

            Sgt. Bacon said to newsman Anthony Truman, “All we have right now is a bag labeled aluminum sulfate hydrate.  We don’t know what is really in the bag.”

            “Have you checked it with a Geiger counter?”

            “Why do you think it might contain plutonium?”

            “We have our sources.”

            When he hung up, Anthony Truman said to an associate, “There’s something to this.  I can feel it in my bones.  I wonder…”  He checked his computer and found that a Cable America News helicopter was en route from Tucson to San Diego.  He walked briskly into his producer’s office.

            “Beetles” Lavoisier, Cable America News producer, listened to Anthony Truman and was instantly energized by the possibilities.  Even before Truman was finished, Lavoisier was on the phone, his beetle brows quivering with excitement, as he diverted his crew to a lonely stretch of highway south of Greenway, Arizona.

            Lavoisier turned to Truman when he finished.  “Our crew was practically over the spot when we made contact!  Get ready to go live!”

            Shakespeare Morales couldn’t believe his eyes when Cable America News cut live to the scene.  Anthony Truman was saying, “We have a breaking story of possible international significance.  It all started with a bag labeled aluminum sulfate hydrate…”

            As Truman’s silver tones told the story, the television showed a live aerial shot of the scene, where the blue blanket was now surrounded by patrol cars belonging to Geronimo Jones and his partner, two Sheriff’s Department volunteer vehicles whose drivers were halting traffic, producing a backup of fifteen to twenty vehicles in both directions, two Border Patrol vehicles, a National Park Service truck, two ambulances, a fire truck, and an arriving ADOT truck.

            Truman said, “We will now go live to Arnold Alder.  Arnold, what can you tell us?”

            “We’ve just gotten here, but it appears that one person is in custody.”

            “Do you see the bag of aluminum sulfate hydrate?”

            “No, but we do see some men dressed in protective suits just arriving.  I’ll try to get one of them over here.”

            Truman glibly continued, “The bag of aluminum sulfate hydrate is the key.  We have unconfirmed reports that it may contain plutonium from the former Soviet Union.  More when we return.”

            United States President John D. Lamarck was hurried out of a conference room in the White House and was quickly briefed.  “Plutonium?  What’s this all about?”

            An aide said, “We don’t know.”

            The president settled in front of the high definition television, where the picture showed Arnold Alder interviewing one of the protective suits:

            “We understand you’re removing a bag of hazardous material.”

            “Yes.  Aluminum sulfate hydrate can be quite harmful.”

            “What precautions are you taking because of the report that the substance may actually be plutonium?”

            “Plutonium?  What’s this about plutonium?” he demanded, charging away from Alder to find Deputy Geronimo Jones.

            President Lamarck turned to his aide.  “This is a matter for the Nuclear Regulatory Commission.  Get our people on it immediately.”  He put his head in his hands.  “What are the Republicans going to do with this?”

            Now, 911 dispatcher Abel Brown’s phone was totally out of control as he fielded calls from CBS, ABC, NBC, Fox News, Reuters, USA Today, Group W, the Associated Press, the Russian News Agency Tass, and belatedly several Arizona television stations.  He transferred each immediately to the Public Information Officer in Tucson, but the phone kept ringing and had to be answered.  Brown’s tie was loosened, his brow was beaded with sweat, his hair was wild, and his desk was littered.  On top of that, Jones now had three additional subjects being detained, two UDA’s who had been hiding in the trunk and a passenger who was carrying a quantity of cocaine.

            Meanwhile, little Appleby Smith’s father was driving towards Yuma, listening to the radio.  Little Appleby, tired of traveling, kept putting his foot on his sister, who kept irritably taking if off despite the bandages on her hands.  His mother got them settled just in time for the news.

            “Cable America News reports that a bag containing radioactive plutonium has been discovered south of Greenway, Arizona.  Four people are in custody.  More as it becomes available…”

            Big Appleby Smith, little’s father, said to his wife, “Boy, it’s a good thing we got out of there.”  But then his mind became unsettled as he reviewed their stop at milepost 55.  He switched stations, just in time to catch another report.

            “A bag of aluminum sulfate hydrate started an international incident today when it was found to contain radioactive plutonium.  Senator Dillinger stepped up his attacks against Russia for allowing terrorists to obtain radioactive materials.  President Vladimir of Russia put his military on alert.  Representative Salazar of California called for stronger border enforcement, which brought a stinging rebuttal from President Cano of Mexico…”

            “Oh, no,” said big Appleby Smith.  “I left the bag by a creosote bush.”

            “What bag?” asked his wife.

            “The empty bag of aluminum sulfate hydrate Apples was playing with.  You don’t suppose…?”

            His wife, eyes wide, could only nod.

            “Where’s the nearest phone?”

            Shakespeare Morales’ mom sat down quietly, watching the live coverage.  “Shakespeare, this has gone way too far.  What did you do?”

            He told her, and soon he was typing a retraction on his computer, under her finally watchful eye.

            Appleby Smith the elder found a pay phone at a Texaco in Dry Well, Arizona.  “Who do I call first?” he asked rhetorically.  His angelic son, Appleby Smith the younger, was nestled in his car seat, sound asleep.

            That evening while in custody in Juvenile Hall, Shakespeare Morales watched Cable America News.  He wasn’t in the least amused as Anthony Truman’s pearly voice said, “And now on the lighter side, it all started with a bag of aluminum sulfate hydrate, and it hasn’t ended yet as the United Nations Security Council meets in emergency session, all over a simple bag of sand…”

            Shakespeare Morales savagely turned off the television.