Women can be brutal too!

We often hear and read about men brutalizing women and it is a national disgrace that so many women live their lives in terror. I've written many times about the battering situations I came across as a police officer in NYC.

But, there's another type of battering I've witnessed, albeit not nearly as often; women brutalizing men. While working a tour in Brooklyn one night, my partner and I were summoned to an apartment to handle an assault in progress. When we arrived and climbed a few flights of stairs, we heard moaning sounds coming from behind an open door of one of the rooms. Other occupants of the building were standing outside their apartments yelling advice to us about the incident. "Be careful officer, she's crazy!" one woman hollered, jabbing her finger in the direction of the open door.

Guns drawn, we entered the narrow hallway and followed the moans to a room several feet away. When we turned the corner we saw a man in a crouch, with his back to the corner of the room, as he covered his face with his hands and shivered. The skin on his face seemed to be dripping through his fingers as he shook violently, like someone who had an electric current running through his body.

A few feet away, a large woman with a diabolical expression on her face was holding a glass container with green and gray liquid swirling around its edges. As we moved toward the injured victim, the woman cut us off and held the container in front of her, as if she were prepared to toss the liquid at us.

As we backed up, she began a barrage of invective that I'll clean up for this column. "You ain't helping him, cause I'll blind you too!" she warned. "He was messin' with another woman and I fixed him good. I told him I'm the only girlfriend he's ever gonna have and he didn't listen," she raved, contempt dripping from every syllable.

Since we knew an ambulance was on the way, our job was to comfort the victim until its arrival and secure the situation as we made an arrest. However, the woman was adamant about keeping us from getting to the seriously injured man, or to her. The noxious fluid she was threatening us with was lye mixed with water, and it was as deadly as a corrosive acid.

"He won't be messin' with women no more," the vicious beast said. "He's not gonna be handsome enough to get any more girlfriends, and he won't be able to see them anyway," she growled, continuing to swirl the liquid menacingly.

Honestly, I felt a powerful impulse to shoot her, for two reasons. One, because it was one of the most vicious assaults I had witnessed, especially since the assaulter stood by relishing the victim's pain and keeping him from being assisted; and two, because if she was able to throw that mixture at me or my partner, we might be crouched in the corner with our faces melting away.

By that time, another radio car team arrived with the ambulance, but we were still held at bay by the huge gargoyle who was circling the small room like a predator keeping a fresh kill from being disturbed by poachers.

"You come close and you gonna get some a this!" she warned, moving the vial back and forth between us and the quivering victim.

Threatening to use our guns was useless because we were dealing with a psycho. Yet, we didn't dare get within throwing range of that flesh-eating mixture. Diversion was the only possible chance we had.

As I feigned an advance on her, she took her eyes off my partner for a split-second; just enough for him to place a well aimed swing with his night stick. The container flew from her hand and smashed against a wall. One would think that would mean the end of the lethal episode. Not quite. With her weapon gone, she thrust her massive girth at us as we moved toward her grimacing victim.

Swinging her arms violently, she spit, bit and shrieked in guttural tones that reminded me of the bedeviled character in "The Exorcist." It took all four cops to get her down, twist her arms behind her back and secure her with handcuffs.

Her "boyfriend" suffered blindness and major facial scars. His former paramour, convicted of maiming, got 7 to 10 in the New York Women's House of Detention. The judge said she wished she could sentence the creature to do a lot more time.

So did I.
We often hear and read about men brutalizing women and it is a national disgrace that so many women live their lives in terror. I've written many times about the battering situations I came across as a police officer in NYC.

But, there's another type of battering I've witnessed, albeit not nearly as often; women brutalizing men. While working a tour in Brooklyn one night, my partner and I were summoned to an apartment to handle an assault in progress. When we arrived and climbed a few flights of stairs, we heard moaning sounds coming from behind an open door of one of the rooms. Other occupants of the building were standing outside their apartments yelling advice to us about the incident. "Be careful officer, she's crazy!" one woman hollered, jabbing her finger in the direction of the open door.

Guns drawn, we entered the narrow hallway and followed the moans to a room several feet away. When we turned the corner we saw a man in a crouch, with his back to the corner of the room, as he covered his face with his hands and shivered. The skin on his face seemed to be dripping through his fingers as he shook violently, like someone who had an electric current running through his body.

A few feet away, a large woman with a diabolical expression on her face was holding a glass container with green and gray liquid swirling around its edges. As we moved toward the injured victim, the woman cut us off and held the container in front of her, as if she were prepared to toss the liquid at us.

As we backed up, she began a barrage of invective that I'll clean up for this column. "You ain't helping him, cause I'll blind you too!" she warned. "He was messin' with another woman and I fixed him good. I told him I'm the only girlfriend he's ever gonna have and he didn't listen," she raved, contempt dripping from every syllable.

Since we knew an ambulance was on the way, our job was to comfort the victim until its arrival and secure the situation as we made an arrest. However, the woman was adamant about keeping us from getting to the seriously injured man, or to her. The noxious fluid she was threatening us with was lye mixed with water, and it was as deadly as a corrosive acid.

"He won't be messin' with women no more," the vicious beast said. "He's not gonna be handsome enough to get any more girlfriends, and he won't be able to see them anyway," she growled, continuing to swirl the liquid menacingly.

Honestly, I felt a powerful impulse to shoot her, for two reasons. One, because it was one of the most vicious assaults I had witnessed, especially since the assaulter stood by relishing the victim's pain and keeping him from being assisted; and two, because if she was able to throw that mixture at me or my partner, we might be crouched in the corner with our faces melting away.

By that time, another radio car team arrived with the ambulance, but we were still held at bay by the huge gargoyle who was circling the small room like a predator keeping a fresh kill from being disturbed by poachers.

"You come close and you gonna get some a this!" she warned, moving the vial back and forth between us and the quivering victim.

Threatening to use our guns was useless because we were dealing with a psycho. Yet, we didn't dare get within throwing range of that flesh-eating mixture. Diversion was the only possible chance we had.

As I feigned an advance on her, she took her eyes off my partner for a split-second; just enough for him to place a well aimed swing with his night stick. The container flew from her hand and smashed against a wall. One would think that would mean the end of the lethal episode. Not quite. With her weapon gone, she thrust her massive girth at us as we moved toward her grimacing victim.

Swinging her arms violently, she spit, bit and shrieked in guttural tones that reminded me of the bedeviled character in "The Exorcist." It took all four cops to get her down, twist her arms behind her back and secure her with handcuffs.

Her "boyfriend" suffered blindness and major facial scars. His former paramour, convicted of maiming, got 7 to 10 in the New York Women's House of Detention. The judge said she wished she could sentence the creature to do a lot more time.

So did I.