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Brandi Is Under Arrest
How DUI enforcement in Nashville works, and the story of one woman's harrowing encounter with the system
by John Howser
This story first appeared in House Organ, a publication of Vanderbilt Medical Center.
The following events occurred in the early morning hours of a recent Saturday. For Officer Krenk the arrest was ordinary. Exactly where Brandi had been prior to the encounter remains unclear.
At 2:40 a.m. the squad car pulls up to the razor wire-topped enclosure behind the Criminal Justice Center in downtown Nashville and the passenger in the backseat of the car begins to sob again. It had been little more than an hour since Metro DUI Enforcement Officer Jay Krenk made a routine traffic stop and subsequently arrested the driver: Brandi, 26, a tanned brunette wearing a burgundy silk blouse and tight black pants.
She had been doing what many people do every night, in Nashville, and elsewhere across the U.S.: having a few drinks and then irresponsibly getting behind the wheel of her car.
Although the night ended badly for her, it could have been worse, much worse. She's safe and in police custody where she can't use her vehicle to harm herself or others. Others, such as those who wind up in Vanderbilt's Trauma Unit, aren't so lucky.
In the middle of the night, sobbing and under arrest, Brandi doesn't feel lucky.
"If it makes you feel any better I won't do it again, that's for sure," Brandi says to Krenk through the partition in the back seat of the squad car. Krenk has heard it all before and doesn't bother responding. She has no idea what awaits her just inside the metal door of the "booking house."
As Krenk retrieves Brandi from the back seat one of his fellow DUI Enforcement Unit officers yells to him from across the parking lot. The other officer just dropped off an arrest and was on his way back out to patrol. The two pass and exchange gossip about the night's activities and arrests.
Krenk leads Brandi through the backdoor of the Criminal Justice Center, universally known by its frequenters on both sides of the law as the CJC . They walk through garage-type space, then through another metal door, which leads down a short hallway to another doorway where all the action was taking place.
Coming through that doorway Brandi is greeted by the sight of the looming backside of a very large man. His pants are down around his ankles as a deputy searches him. The man's head is clean-shaven. His front teeth, upper and lower, are a menacing shiny-gold, and a ring of foamy white vomit surrounds his mouth and nose. Under the influence of drugs and alcohol he is jabbering non-stop about "freakin' on up in the strip club." Brandi begins to sob again as the reality of being arrested, and its consequences, hits home.
The booking house is where all people arrested in Davidson County wind up to be formally charged, fingerprinted, and photographed before being jailed. It is, to phrase it nicely, grimy. It possesses a severely shopworn appearance borne of having seen far too much activity from the lower rungs of society. Here, control of bodily functions seems more optional than in most public places. The entire tension-filled area is a cacophony of sights, sounds and smells--sweat, urine and feces. The cleanest place in the room is a stainless steel counter on which the possessions of those arrested are placed and inventoried.
Law enforcement officers and their captives interact with the CJC staff. Some of those arrested are calm; some are belligerent, some too intoxicated to care. One man with white socks covered in mud is complaining bitterly about his treatment to the officer searching him.
Through the haze of alcohol Brandi surveys her surroundings realizing she's in the presence of real criminals. Still in handcuffs and seated on a large concrete bench across from the stainless steel counter, she watches as those who arrived before her are retrieved from holding cells to be searched before being led before the Judicial Commissioner.
As Krenk finishes her arrest warrant in another area Brandi sits there taking it all in. After Krenk finishes the narrative of the complaint he leads Brandi to a line of officers and lawbreakers waiting their turn before the Judicial Commissioner.
While Krenk and Brandi stand in a long line the large man with the shaved head and gold teeth, along with his arresting officer, are two ahead. The man is still talking non-stop. As he thrusts his hips back and forth in a provocative manner he loudly proclaims "I was up in the strip club drinkin' and doin' some E when this bitch busted me in the mouth," the "bitch" in question being the officer standing beside him. Krenk notices the man's gold teeth and asks the other officer "Won't those things rot your teeth?"
"The only thing rotten about him is his values," she replies.
When Brandi's turn comes, the Judicial Commissioner asks her if she understands the charges against her. After being formally charged Krenk leads Brandi back out to the central room in the holding area.
The drinks Brandi has had are making their way through her system. Prior to being fingerprinted and photographed Brandi asks to go to the bathroom. Krenk motions to a wooden door to the bathroom in the holding area for detainees. After going in and closing the door Brandi emerges about 45 seconds later heaving and gagging, tears running down her face. The lone toilet is full, broken, and sickening. "That's the worst thing I've ever smelled in my life," she coughs.
Brandi begins to cry again as she is fingerprinted and photographed, and is led away into the bowels of the CJC to begin her stay.
About two hours earlier Krenk had spotted Brandi's car speeding down Murfreesboro Road. He had wheeled out of a convenience store parking lot to follow.
Krenk accelerated to catch up with Brandi's mid-90s Toyota Celica convertible. The back glass was fogged, obscuring any view of the vehicle's occupant. Krenk eased back and followed about 50 yards behind her car. The radar indicator on Krenk's dashboard registered Brendi's car traveling 59 miles-per-hour in an area designated 45 MPH. If Brandi had been traveling just a little slower perhaps she would have escaped Krenk's observation.
Unsuspecting, she has already assured herself a speeding ticket. Suspicious that more is going on than just driving too fast, Krenk decides to follow and observe a short distance further. The car's right wheels drifted over the white line on the shoulder. "Uh huh," said Krenk. "I think we've got one."
A few yards farther the car's left wheels drifted over the center line of Murfreesboro Road. Krenk popped on the blue lights and siren. The Toyota immediately centered itself and began to slow down, now going too slowly. Krenk uses the car's PA system, sounding like the voice of God, to instruct Brandi to pull over at the next opportunity. The squad car, blue lights still flashing, eased in behind the convertible in the parking lot of a flea market.
Krenk walked up to the driver's side window, which Brandi had rolled down, and the officer leaned over to speak with her. After taking her license Krenk straightens up, looked back at the squad car and nodded up and down. He knows he's got one.
Upon request Brandi stepped from her car. On her left wrist was a red plastic band, the kind given out at all-ages nightclubs to quickly identify a person of legal age. She appeared off balance. Brandi admitted to Krenk she has recently downed a drink or two. "I had a glass of wine and two beers," she said.
Krenk explained to her he suspects she's had too much to drink to safely operate her car. He tells her he is going to administer a field sobriety test as she nods in agreement. From even three feet away Brandi's breath smelled like an open bottle of rum mixed with cough syrup and a splash of beer.
Taking out his flashlight and holding it in his left hand Krenk shined the beam away from the two of them. Standing about two-and-a-half feet from Brandi he told her he is going to perform a horizontal gaze nystagmus test to see how well her eyes can follow his fingertip. Brandi's eyes failed to properly track with Krenk's finger. She has failed the vision test.
Next Brandi was told she was going to have to walk a straight line. Krenk searched the ground for a white line for her to follow. With his flashlight shining on the line, Brandi started and stumbled along. Apparently hoping to improve her chances, Brandi slipped out of her shoes and began to walk the line again, this time in stocking feet. Stepping heel-to-toe she made it about six steps before stumbling slightly. "Keep going," Krenk told her. Brandi took two or three more steps. "Now turn and come back," the officer instructed. She walked the nine heel-to-toe steps back up the line with two more stumbles.
Next she was asked to stand on one foot and hold the other in the air while counting as high as she can. She starts out, "one-Mississippi, two-Mississippi, three-Mississippi, four-Mississippi." At "seven-Mississippi" Brandi swayed and had to put her foot down.
That's it; she's failed the field sobriety test.
Krenk placed her under custody on suspicion of DUI. Brandi began to sob quietly as he handcuffed her and informed her of her rights. He told her she can take a blood alcohol test and, depending on the results, may be released. He told her that according to state law if she refuses the test she will automatically be placed under arrest for violation of the state's Implied Consent Law, charged with DUI, and taken downtown to be processed. Given her rather obvious condition there is little mystery as to the outcome of the blood alcohol test.
Brandi sat in the back seat of the squad car for the required 20-minute observation period before being given the blood alcohol test. At this point Brandi and Krenk begin to converse.
"If you blow a .08 to .099, that's a DWI," Krenk said. "I'll have to have your car towed but you'll just face a fine. If you blow .10 or higher, that's DUI. I'll have to book you." Brandi continued to cry softly.
"Until tonight I haven't had anything to drink in a month. I was just trying to help some friends out and now I'm screwed," she said between sobs. "I just never do this. I know you're just doing your job, but I really don't need this right now." She explains she was on her way to pick up some friends who are also intoxicated. Through the open partition in the squad car Krenk nodded toward the plastic band on her wrist. "You should know that to someone like me that thing is a dead giveaway that you've been drinking," he said.
Brandi slightly changed tacks, and began angling for sympathy by explaining she is up for a promotion at work and if her boss finds out about her situation she will be in trouble. Maybe to pass the time or maybe because he is interested, Krenk inquired about her employment. She told him she works as an event planner at one of Nashville's largest hotels.
As the time passed in the back seat of the squad car, Brandi's census of her alcohol consumption underwent adjustment; she repeated her earlier statement about only having "a glass of wine and two beers" but also admitted to having a shot of Jagermeister as well.
Krenk explained to Brandi how the Intoxilyzer works and what she will need to do when he administers the test.
At 1:47 a.m. the moment of truth arrived for Brandi. Before administering the test Krenk good-naturedly wished her good luck. "Now take a deep breath and blow until I tell you to stop," he said. Brandi takes in a breath, placed the plastic tubing in her mouth and then began to exhale. "Blow, blow, blow," Krenk said. "Now stop."
As the Intoxilyzer began to process the test Krenk told Brandi that if the test doesn't register as completed she would have to repeat the process. That turned out not to be a problem; the machine began to spit out a slip of paper like a cash register receipt, and near the bottom of the slip of paper is the line indicating blood alcohol content.
"All right Brandi, you blew a .17. You're legally intoxicated. You are nearly twice the legal limit," Krenk said. As Brandi begins to cry again Krenk said the magic words: "I'm placing you under arrest for DUI. I'm going to have to take you downtown and book you."
For more information:
Alcohol, Tobacco & Other Drug Prevention Programs
Station B 1508
Nashville TN 37235
(615) 343-4740
FAX (615) 343-3702
