The Hands of a Terrorist - Talia Shmuel

A Personal Story by a friend of mine, in the current times this is pretty important to remember...

When you see a bad person- a truly bad person who believes they have the right to take another's life- or many, you naively believe that they will look different. Something about them will give them away- the glint in their eye or the scowl on their face. Their hands will be soaked in blood and all they will do is glare.
The hands soaked in blood is true- but that is an external adornment. A terrorist's hands look just like any other person's hands once they have been securely fastened above their head in hand cuffs.
I worked my first "Pegua"-(terrorist attack) a while ago while on shift and we saved the life of a terrorist. A man stabbed and killed one man, and attacked armed police officers when he was stopped for questioning. The police believe that he had been about to execute an attack against a school, 30 meters from the incident. He was armed with a long knife and anger. His hands became covered in blood.
He lay on the ground – 200 meters away from his victims of rage, running for his life after taking another's. A passerby had become involved- tackled him to the ground, and held him at gun point, refraining from shooting the bastard who was lying on the ground, drained by the bullet hole that the wounded police officer had heroically managed to place in his abdomen to save himself and the life of his partner.
When we arrived, he was handcuffed and the only the blood soaked hands indicated the blood he had drawn, separating him from his victims. We saved his life because we hold life to be important.
I did not expect my first "Pegua" to be like this. I expected to save the life of the good guys, not the bad. I expected to prepare an IV for some innocent 86 year old passer by who was in the wrong place at the wrong time. I expected to cuddle a child who was crying from fear. I did not expect to stand there as they cut off the clothes of a man who had made the child cry or the 86 year old man die and hand the paramedic medicine and bandages.
I wanted to do more than stick the IV needle in his arm- I wanted to stick it into his heart. But we value life and so we save it. We arrive with sirens blaring and if a person is hurt we treat them. It doesn't matter who they are or what they did. They become a face of pain in our eyes and we treat them accordingly.
Afterwards, people who help the bad guys don't talk about it to each other. We did our job, and the shame that goes along with it burns into our hearts. We know we will do it again on the next shift that a "Pegua" occurs. And we know that shift will arrive. It always comes back again here. We will arrive on the scene, and we treat- blood soaked hands or clean.
What do hands tell you about a person? They tell you if they work hard labor or a desk job. They tell you the ethnicity of a family. They tell you the basic personality of a person- well kept clean nails or chipped paint. What can you do with your hands? Anyone can stab people- but the head and heart tells you not to because you are a good person. What did he do with his hands? He took life.
The terrorist will survive. He will go to jail while his victim is put in the ground. He will continue to use his hands because we respect human life.

By Talia Shmuel