Underneath The Bridge


The causeway roared by overhead and he leaned up against one of the pillars of the bridge. He could see the man’s legs sticking out from behind his squad car. His feet were bare, sitting in a pool of blood.

The siren of the ambulance roared to his left. The man with no face was carried over in a stretcher. An officer walked a line of yellow tape around the scene and a man in a blue jacket took photos.

This all happened in front of his eyes but he didn’t see any of it, as his vision was blocked by an unthinkable image.

He was driving down the MacArhtur Causeway when the call came over the radio. There was a disturbance beneath the overpass. He put on the sirens and swung his vehicle around toward the Miami skyline that sat over the Biscayne Bay.

He stopped the car underneath the bridge and exited with his hand on the handle of his gun. He could see a pair of legs stretched out behind one of the pillars. He could hear someone screaming.

The sun had fallen below the causeway and he walked quickly toward the disturbing scene with one hand above his brow.

“Police,” he yelled. “Get your hands up. Police.”

He stepped closer and could see a man crouched over another.  There was blood dripping down the slightly steeped cement floor and he pulled his gun from his holster.

“Police,” he said again. “Get your hands up.”

The man turned and the officer lowered his gun in disbelief.

It was that image that the chief had told him to describe while sitting in his office with the department therapist. It was that image that he was asked about by his fellow officers. It was that image that kept him up at night.

The man’s face was covered in blood, a piece of skin hanging from his lips. The body beneath him writhed on the ground as dying screams spilled from the holes the victim’s face.

“Freeze, I said. Get your hands up.” The officer sat on a small couch with his elbows on his knees. “My gun was drawn and this, this thing…. I can’t describe the sound it made. It wasn’t human. It growled. It…”

He fell back against the couch and a man with a notebook on his lap leaned forward in his chair.

“Go on.”

“I fired,” the officer said. “I fired and I fired until my gun was empty…. They showed me his picture, you know, Rudy Eugene. He looks like such a nice guy. But that wasn’t who I saw underneath that bridge. That…”

He took a deep breath and shook his head.

“It wasn’t human. That’s the best way I can describe it. How can someone be capable of that?”

The therapist wrote something down in his notebook and the man waited for an answer.


 It is being called one of this city’s goriest crimes: A naked man was on top of another nude man along a busy highway, biting into the man’s face, tearing it to pieces. A police officer arrived to help, but the mauler growled at him and continued to chew away, stopping only when he was shot to death. – Florida Today

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