Hurricane Andrew: Police worked despite personal hardship

Jim Scott

Jensen Beach

I'm retired now, but when Hurricane Andrew struck South Florida I was a Miami-Dade Police sergeant working homicide, the unit that investigated most of the storm deaths.

I lived in Broward County and spent the day before securing my house, as forecasters said that South Broward might be landfall. I slept that night and awoke to find that the hurricane had swerved south. I only lost one tree.

When I reported for work I learned that Homestead had taken a direct hit and the destruction was beyond prediction. Radio communication was damaged and telephone and cellphone capability had been destroyed. Unable to communicate with the affected area, my detective squad traveled to South Miami-Dade and remained there to handle the deaths that were sure to be reported. The drive south was like a movie scene where everyone is fleeing in the opposite direction that the movie characters are traveling. The roads were jammed with traffic and storm debris (I soon learned to carry extra tires in my back seat) and the drive took me past hundreds of destroyed homes. It looked like the aftermath of a nuclear attack.

Miami-Dade Police Department's Cutler Ridge station, north of Homestead, was a staging area and when I arrived I could not believe the destruction. Cars were on the roof of a nearby Sears store. The police station was flooded and parts of the roof and some windows were missing. Tarps had been erected in the parking lot to shelter tables of food and equipment.

Dozens of officers from other stations were reporting for duty and while some lived outside of the storm's path, most did not. They could be identified by the condition of their police vehicles; broken windows, missing light bars and doors or trunk lids torn off. They were dressed rag tag in the only uniform items that they could salvage. One officer was wearing a uniform shirt and shorts with his gun in a paper bag. He was in shock. I choked up.

The adjacent Fire Rescue station must have been stronger because it was intact. Dozens of fire fighters were on duty and several families were there, having taken shelter during the hurricane. Through out the area and over the next several days, the sound of firetruck sirens was continuous. Fire Rescue was constantly on the go.

I continued south to the Homestead/Florida City area to supervise investigations; a young man who tried to cover a broken window with a mattress and was killed by a flying landscape timber; a senior who suffocated when the ceiling in his nursing home collapsed as he slept (I'll never sleep through another hurricane); and two men who tried to ride out the storm on the their boat and drowned. More deaths were investigated by other detective squads.

But surprisingly, there were relatively few fatalities; approximately 15 directly related to the storm and another 20-some that occurred shortly after but were linked to the hurricane. These included falls, electrocutions and chain saw accidents.

If the low number of deaths was good news to most, for others it fueled their suspicion of government officials and became the basis for a flow of rumors; bodies were being stored in the ice-filled Homestead water tower; refrigerated semi trailers were transporting bodies out of state; and (my personal favorite) Navy submarines were shooting bodies out of torpedo tubes into Biscayne Bay.

The further south I traveled the more bizarre the scene became: a tugboat on the lawn of the Burger King headquarters in Old Cutler; houses in Saga Bay with storm surge marks half way up their walls; and squads of Army paratroopers walking patrol in neighborhoods. There were no traffic or streetlights left and driving was difficult. I was familiar with the area, but now I spent most of my time lost because street signs and landmarks were gone. While trying to find an address, I would stop and ask residents for directions. But most were in shock and didn't know where they were. Many trees were down and those that still stood had no leaves, as though a horde of insects had eaten all vegetation. South Florida in August with no shade was very hot.

The Medical Examiner's Office had set up a temporary morgue in Florida City, but due to the low number of fatalities, I don't think that it was used. Florida City also was designated as a staging area for out of state law enforcement and I met officers from North Carolina who had convoyed south to help. I was humbled by their dedication.

Eventually, I went home to sleep and stopped at a Cooper City Publix for groceries. The store had electricity, air conditioning, stocked shelves, and short lines. It was nice but I felt guilty. I was sweaty and my uniform was dirty. Shoppers stared at me.

The next day I volunteered to assist several nuns with a food relief effort in Florida City. With the trunk of my police car full of food, I drove them through high crime areas seeking needy people. Several times they asked me to stop and distribute food to men standing on corners. I recognized that the "needy" were actually dope dealers selling crack and probably armed, so I declined. At the end of the day I was politely told that I would not be needed the next day.

In the following weeks, I went back to working murders and South Miami-Dade was busy. The storm had brought hundreds to the area to work in the rebuilding. Most were reputable contractors but some were "fugitives with hammers," drifters running from troubles elsewhere. When the county clamped down on unlicensed contractors, many of the out of work arrivals set up homeless camps that experienced the expected social breakdown. More than one murderer that we hunted was found living under a bridge — we called them "trolls".

I was lucky that I only lost one tree because more than 160 Miami-Dade Police Department officers lost their homes. Yet department wide, most everyone reported for duty and continued to serve through personal hardships. Many were affected emotionally. Several tell of the terror of riding out the hurricane hiding in a bathtub with their family.

A friend was a motorcycle officer who was permanently injured when he struck a down power line during a night escort. Later, the Miami Herald published a pictorial book with hundreds of news photos from the hurricane. I couldn't find one photo of a police officer, let alone an acknowledgment of the sacrifices they made.

I thank God that my family and home were spared.