Emergency @ Washington City Paper Headquarters

There is a man down on the landing of our parking garage. He has wedged himself between a foot-high concrete wall, the cigarette urn, and the second floor door. It’s a small space, barely room enough for his small frame. I do not notice this man.

Our beloved photographer, Darrow Montgomery, who just biked past him, points him out.

I ask him what’s wrong. He says he has asthma, that he needs help. His voice is hoarse. Another man shows up. I will learn later that this man works at Payless. The man on the ground apparently has stolen a black purse.

The Payless man tells the other man to wait—the police have been called.

The man then walks as fast as he can up to our parking deck. He then makes like he wants to jump off the deck. He mumbles about wanting to kill himself, that life isn’t worth living.

He is grabbed. We get him to sit down. His name is Thomas.

I leave Darrow and the Payless employee to keep the man occupied. I run inside WCP and call the Department of Mental Health’s mobile crisis unit. This is where things get annoying.

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