This particular story took place approximately 6 months before I discovered James’ website. I can say without a shadow of a doubt his teachings on threat avoidance, deescalating situations, and general combat knowledge has been invaluable. I present this story to you as a cautionary tale and urge you to go back and reread some of the articles on this site if you find yourself working or living in an urban war zone.

The phone rings. It’s a distraught citizen of our city calling to tell us of his concerns regarding the state of the rooming house he lives in. The roof partially collapsed last night and after the rain we had been having that day he noticed that water was literally pouring into the electrical panels in the property. He asked if this was a potential fire hazard…

15 minutes later several inspectors arrive at the property to verify the conditions and see if there was any truth to this person's claim regarding the roof. Before arriving on scene my supervisor warned me that this was a well-known drug house and to expect trouble. Once we arrived the caller allowed us into the property and showed us not only the collapsed roof, but the fried electrical panels, and a partially collapsed hallway floor. He told us he knew we were going to condemn the property but he did not want some of his friends in the other rooms to get hurt due to a negligent landlord. I commended him for his integrity.

The next step in this process is to evacuate the building of all inhabitants including the drug dealer/property manager who lived on the 3rd floor. After hearing us in the hallways this 6-foot 4-inch and approximately 240 pound innocent unarmed black gentlemen confronted us as to why we were shutting down the building, etc. I moved on past him despite his protests while my supervisor proceeded to speak with him and knocked on the next door. Three pot heads answered the door, joints in mouth, and asked if they could have a few moments to gather their things.

"Sure," I said, "why not?"

Then I turned to make my exit downstairs but find my way blocked by this towering mass of muscle.

You see I had entered the third floor with two other inspectors and a cop. Unbeknownst to me, while I was talking to the three pot heads, the other inspectors and cop left me behind without so much as a warning. Tactical error number one on my part. Now I needed to make my way downstairs but had a very large obstacle to overcome.

I locked eyes with my enemy and instantly noted that his demeanor had changed from one of annoyance to anger and potential violence. He was flexing and swaying, starting to amp himself up. “You mutha fuckas be ruining my shit aint none of your goddamn business what goes on here y’all need to fuck off how about that?”

This was not my first brush with violence nor was I caught unaware. However I made tactical mistake number two and attempted to use polite conversation to alleviate the situation.

Me: "Sir we just have the safety of…"

Dealer: "FUCK YOU BITCH I don’t give a fuck what you think." (More flexing and swaying)

Me: "That’s fine why don’t we head downstairs…"

Dealer: "Bitch I'm not going nowhere and I don’t like your attitude. I think I'll do something about that!"

Me: "Sir, lets just head downstairs and we can."

Dealer: "Fuck that and FUCK YOU white boy you don’t tell me what to do! I do what I want!"

It was at this point I realized any form of verbal communication was going to simply feed the beast in front of me so I took stock of the situation. I was facing down an opponent who was considerably larger and stronger then I was. He was blocking my only exit out of the building. To make matters worse we were stuck in a narrow hallway that prevented me from having any type of lateral movement that could potentially aid me in a physical confrontation. I realized I had one good shot at him before he got his hands on my. Luckily I had my flashlight tazer already in my hand so I quietly thumbed the switch over to taze and took a slight step forward with my left leg, held my hands loosely at my side, looked my enemy in the eyes and said, “Ok, sir”

During the inevitable tirade of expletives and threats I imagined my plan of attack. Lunging jab with the tazer, shock the neck/face, smash my steel toe boots into his nuts, and beat feet to where I could find reinforcements. Jab, shock, smash, repeat.

For the next several minutes I did not say a word. I was berated, cursed at, threatened, told all sorts of moderately creative things this person was going to do to me. I said nothing. I did not move. I simply waited and played the scenario out in my head. Jab, shock, smash, repeat. My foe continued to sway, flex, and curse all the while I could see the look of first confusion, then annoyance, then almost fear. Without fuel the fire was beginning to fade. I simply did not acknowledge him and I could see him begin to wilt. Finally, with a visible rounding of the shoulders, he looked at me, spat out one final, "Fuck you," and began the slow descent downstairs.

I followed him just outside of punching range ready in case this was some kind of trap. He simply glanced over his shoulder a few times, muttered under his breath, and marched out of the building.

Once he left I proceeded to chastise both my fellow inspectors and the cops for not having the tactical awareness of and foresight to keep an eye on a brother. 6 months later when I discovered jameslafond.com I sat back in my chair and thought, “Dammit if only I had known this 6 months ago!”