911: “This is 911, what’s your emergency?”
WOMAN: “Hi, my name is Jane. C-could… Could I please get 2 pizzas as soon as possible?”
911: “Sorry, ma’am, I believe you have the wrong number.”
WOMAN: “NO! Don’t cut the call! I DESPERATELY need 2 pizzas from you!”
911: Ma’am, I’m going to ask you a few questions. Just answer yes or no. Are you in danger?”
WOMAN: “Yes. Please, faster! My daughter and I are …”
Her voice hitched, a sob catching in her throat. The dispatcher, a calm and collected woman named Sarah, instantly recognized the coded plea. She’d been trained for this, for the calls that weren’t what they seemed.
911: “Okay, Jane. I understand. What toppings would you like on these pizzas?”
WOMAN: “Pepperoni… and… and mushroom.”
911: “Alright, pepperoni and mushroom. And what’s your address, Jane?” Jane gave her address, her voice trembling slightly. Sarah typed it in, her fingers flying across the keyboard.
911: “Okay, Jane. We’ve got that. How long do you think it will take for the delivery driver to get there?”
WOMAN: “About… about 20 minutes, I think.”
911: “Okay, Jane. I want you to stay on the line with me until they arrive, okay?” WOMAN: “Okay… thank you.”
The line was quiet for a moment, the only sound Jane’s shallow breathing. Sarah kept her voice calm and reassuring.
911: “Jane, can you tell me a little more about what’s going on?”
WOMAN: “He’s here… he won’t leave. He’s been drinking.”
911: “Is he threatening you or your daughter?”
WOMAN: “He… he’s yelling. And he broke a lamp.”
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