What happened next was, naturally, taken over by the police. When the subway reached the next stop, officers were already waiting. All four drunks and both Owen and Sarah were taken in, despite Owen presenting his credentials—he still had to give a statement.
Everyone on the train vouched that Owen and Sarah had intervened out of civic duty. The middle-aged woman and the guy with the bike both said they'd testify in court if necessary.
With all the witness accounts and surveillance footage from the train, there was no problem. After giving their statements, they were free to go. Though they had just been through quite an ordeal together, Owen and Sarah had only met that day—they didn't exchange numbers. Each went their separate way.
Leaving the police station, Owen had no desire to get back on the metro. He hailed a cab straight home. After an afternoon of training and a surprise subway brawl, he was exhausted and just wanted to sleep.
Back at his apartment, the place felt empty. Monica was still recovering in the hospital. Owen had the place to himself. But not long after he'd laid down, the sudden wail of police sirens outside jolted him awake.
Groggy, Owen dragged himself to the window and looked out. Flashing red and blue lights cut through the darkness. A patrol car was parked below. A second one arrived moments later.
Something was up.
Footsteps echoed in the hallway. Owen grabbed his handgun, slinging it across his back, and crept to the peephole. Several police officers were outside. Whatever was going on, it was happening right next door.
Owen was instantly on high alert. He didn't want some stray bullet flying through his wall and ending him while he was trying to sleep.
Opening his door to inquire, a nearby officer immediately motioned for him to step back. Owen showed his CTU ID.
"What's going on?" he asked.
Seeing he was from CTU, the officers relaxed slightly. One of them nodded. "See for yourself."
A woman was speaking to another officer nearby. Owen recognized her—she lived in the apartment next door with her boyfriend. He didn't know their names; they'd only recently moved in and hadn't really interacted.
The woman was visibly distraught. "Please, officer, you have to help! My boyfriend—he's trying to kill himself. He's not in the right state of mind…"
"You made the call?" asked the officer.
"Yes! He had a knife… I called right away."
"Alright, step back. Let us handle this."
The woman was escorted downstairs. The door to the neighboring unit stood open. Police cautiously approached. A burst of shouting erupted from inside, and then a man stormed out holding a kitchen knife.
"Get away from me! All of you! Just leave me alone and let me go in peace!"
The man was wild-eyed and hysterical. The officers stepped back instinctively.
"Sir, put down the weapon," one of them ordered.
"No! Why should I? This is my life, my home—get out!"
The man waved the knife erratically. He wasn't making any sense, and he didn't seem to care that he'd already injured himself. Blood poured from his arm, but he didn't even notice.
"Sir, I'm ordering you to put down the weapon now. Also, your attempt at self-harm is a violation of federal law. You need to drop the knife and come out—"
"Federal law is bullshit! My life is mine to end! I'll do what I damn well please!"
To prove his point, he began stabbing his own arm again and again. He sliced into his wrist, severing an artery. Blood gushed out in thick streams.
"Sir, calm down—"
The lead officer kept his weapon trained on the man, trying to deescalate. But the man was beyond reason. Knife in hand, he suddenly advanced on the officers.
"Sir! Stop right now—I'm warning you—" BANG! BANG! BANG!
The man ignored the warnings. The officers opened fire, shooting him three times and dropping him instantly.
"Nooooo!" screamed the woman from the stairwell. Her wail was filled with anguish and disbelief.
Owen stared at the lifeless body and sighed. He shook his head, turned around, and closed his door before collapsing back onto his couch.
The police had come to prevent a suicide—and ended up killing the man themselves. It was a deeply ironic outcome, but not at all uncommon in America.
Just recently, a very similar incident had occurred in Minnesota. A husband threatened to kill himself. His wife called 911. When officers arrived and ordered him to drop the weapon, he refused. They shot and killed him on the spot.
It was surreal. In America, you couldn't even kill yourself without possibly getting shot?
Florida had a similar case. A woman armed and threatening suicide was reported by neighbors. A full SWAT team showed up. They broke into her apartment, allegedly to prevent harm. But when they encountered her with a gun, they opened fire—five rounds. She died instantly.
And that wasn't even the most bizarre.
A 34-year-old man once threatened to end his life. His wife called the police to intervene. What showed up? An armored vehicle, officers with machine guns. They broke doors, smashed windows, stormed in. The moment they saw the man holding a gun—bang, bang, bang. Problem solved. He never got the chance to pull the trigger himself.
These cases were absurd but real.
Sometimes, people in the U.S. wanted to die but didn't have the courage to pull the trigger. So they orchestrated situations where the police would do it for them. In such cases, the cops couldn't argue—they had to swallow the consequences, even amid public backlash.
Some even did it to scam life insurance. Suicide usually voids the payout, but homicide doesn't. If the person could provoke the police into killing them, the family might still get the money. But even that wasn't a guarantee—if the person had endangered others during the act, the law might still classify it as suicide, and no payout would be made.
Back when Owen worked at the West Hollywood PD, he'd heard of cases like this—though they usually happened in other precincts. The media would pounce on such stories. Legally justified or not, the public rarely saw it that way.
Statistically, U.S. police shoot and kill over 900 people annually. Around 15% of those are attempted suicides. In most cases, the person had threatened someone else, forcing the police to react.
Lately, an even more chilling trend had emerged: suicidal individuals choosing to take others with them. Instead of dying alone, they staged public massacres—at schools, malls, rallies. They wouldn't shoot themselves, but they'd open fire on crowds, forcing a confrontation with law enforcement. Owen had recently dealt with one such case on Wall Street. It had been a bloodbath.
There was no real defense against it. It was the dark side of American tragedy.
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I Am Zeus, KING OF GODS (Chapter 120)
Fairy Tail: Igneel's Eldest Son (Chapter 391)
I Am Thalos, Odin's Older Brother (Chapter 471)
Reborn in America's Anti-Terror Unit (Chapter 677)
Solomon in Marvel (Chapter 1059)
Becoming the Wealthiest Tycoon on the Planet (Chapter 1418)
Surgical Fruit in the American Comics Universe (Chapter 1422)
American Detective: From TV Rookie to Seasoned Cop (Chapter 1452)
American TV Writer (Chapter 1504)
I Am Hades, The Supreme GOD of the Underworld!(Chapter 570)
Reborn as Humanity's Emperor Across the Multiverse (Chapter 703)
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