I’m glad my dad was an accountant …
OFF-DUTY COP SHOOTS DAUGHTER WHO SNUCK OUT
May 31, 2007 – 2:11AM, SMH Online
An off-duty American police officer in Connecticut shot and critically wounded his 18-year-old daughter, apparently mistaking her for an intruder after she sneaked out of their home and re-entered through the basement.
Eric Scott, 41, on the New Haven police force for nine years, has not been charged in Tuesday’s shooting.
"Mr Scott was under the impression his daughter had gone to bed for the night," Stratford Captain Thomas Rodia said.
"He did not expect his daughter to be outside or down in the basement."
Investigators said Tasha Scott left her home late on Monday to meet a boyfriend. She triggered a backyard motion sensor light as she tried to enter through a basement door.
Awakened by the light, Eric Scott spotted someone moving in the basement bathroom, police said. He fired his department-issued pistol once, hitting the teen in the knee. The bullet travelled up her leg and lodged in her thigh area, police said.
The teenager underwent surgery and was listed in critical but stable condition on Wednesday morning.
Scott has been on leave since being struck by a truck while on duty in November. A telephone listing for him had been disconnected this morning, and a message left for him at the New Haven department was not immediately returned.
I was a horrid kid. My parents have every reason to blame me for their grey hair and Dad’s receding hairline. From 14 to 18 (when I left home in a huff), I rebelled against my parents and did the exact opposite of what they told me to do. My folks were always very strict with me – I had a curfew of 11pm, I wasn’t allowed to date or bring male friends through my front door, and I wasn’t allowed to get a weekend job until I finished high school.
Aided by a ledge directly below my bedroom window, I use to sneak out of the house to go to parties. Before you get the wrong idea, most of these parties were fairly tame affairs – just kids hanging out, playing loud music with a few beers. There were never any drugs (well, ok, maybe the odd spliff here and there), and the beers were very few and far between. I went to be with my friends, who went to be with their boyfriends. I’d always be home by 1am at the absolute latest.
I’ll never forget the night I was caught by my dad. We had just moved to our new house, and I had successfully managed to sneak out on a couple of occasions via new methods. This particular night, I had been invited to a party about a 10 minute walk away from our house, and I had patiently waited until everyone had gone to bed before attempting my Houdini trick. I almost made it too, when all the lights went on in the house.
I was literally caught by my dad with my legs on either side of a sliding door – one foot on the paving in the courtyard, one foot on the carpet on the living room floor. I tried to tell my dad I was just going outside to stretch my legs as I couldn’t sleep, but the party clothes and made up face gave me away.
After an hour of stern lectures from Dad, I was allowed to slink upstairs to wash my face and climb into bed. Looking back, Dad had a rolled up paper in his hand – he must have heard a noise and thought there may have been someone breaking in to our house. Dad has long since retired, but I’m glad he was an accountant!