I remember my first encounter with a bipolar and schizophrenic patient. Much like this case, we were called to the house by his mother who claimed that he had been up all night 'fussing' and tossing things around the house. Looking in the dining room, we noticed all the chairs had been knocked over and the recliner in the den was upside down.
While talking to Mom, old 'Junior' (his nickname) came out of his room and walked right past us like we weren't there. He went out the front door and walked up to my locked vehicle parked at the curb and peered into the windows on both sides. I wonder now if he was hoping I had my patrol shotgun mounted between the seats. Anyway, Junior comes back in the house and again says not a word to me or my partner and walks back to his room.
I explained to his mother that she needs to get him back on his meds which he had quit taking about two days hence and prior to leaving, we checked to make sure she was comfortable with him in the house by herself. She assured us she'd be alright and as we walked to the door to say our goodbyes, she heard Junior walking down the hall from his room. As he was around the corner, we couldn't see what was going on but Mom asked, "now Junior, where did you get that?" and he suddenly walked into view with a fucking old rusty machete.
Well naturally, after having half a heart attack, Greg and I drew down on him as we backed towards the front door. Our initial plan was to just get the hell out of the house and deal with whatever we were faced with but it dawned on us that Mom had actually stepped further into the house and there was no way we were going to leave her in their with this guy - thinking what if he's going after her?
Shit, back towards the middle of the living room, putting ourselves between Junior and Mom, telling him very quietly to put the damn blade down all the while having my trigger finger staging the trigger safety on my gun. If that dude would have taken one step towards me, it would have been all over but after two or three repeated commands to put down the machete, his eyes cleared and he bent over and put it on the ground.
Fuck - that was as close I ever came to killing someone and it is a scene that frequently pops into my mind as I watch these guys deal - many times ineffectively, with mental patients. I don't know what I did differently, perhaps nothing. Chalk it up to luck but I know mental patients are the toughest to deal with because of their unpredictability. You just never know what's going to happen next and you can't take anything for granted.
a machete is a little different from a screwdriver as soon as they saw the screw driver they should have backed up instead of drawing your weapon within 2 ft of the guy in which case the officer has no room to judge the situation maybe the guy tripped or nodded out in the doorway and fell forward lol unlikely but if you're a foot away you wouldn't necessarily know the difference