SGT. BATTAGLIA

POA Interview by Sgt. Paul Francois
Photographs by Officer Barb Melloch

Vanguard: Let’s start with an overview of your career.

Battaglia: I took all the testing for bilingual and got hired on October 14, 1977. I went to the academy when it was out at Agnews. I had a blast in the FTO program. Lumpy didn’t think I was serious enough. I finished the FTO program and was assigned to the East Side with Rocky Bridges, Artie Munoz, John Savala, and Dave Hendrickson. I was amazed when I came on—all those guys with 1200 badge numbers were dinosaurs. Now I’m the dinosaur.

I worked the East Side and the cruise before YSD [Youth Services Detail] was created over at the Mayfair Center. I worked for Chris Green. That’s when they had the MCT’s—the big computers that sat in the middle of the consol with the red screens. Only East Side units had it. You had a chit for it and you had to check it out every day. I probably went 3 or 4 months before I had lunch with anybody since I was the new kid. I had to prove myself by test of fire in a bar fight at Tully and Lanai—I did alright. They wanted to see what the new kid could do. After that, it became even more fun. I wasn’t an island anymore. I got in my first on-duty accident out there in a pursuit.

There was a hiring freeze so we didn’t gain a lot of seniority for a number of years. So, Midnights was where we lived. My first partner was Rocky Bridges for about a year, then Art Munoz. I became real good friends with Steve Wininger from the Academy so when the time came when we could pull a two-man car on midnights we did that out in old District 4 (now Tom and Adam). I worked with him for years on both Midnights and Swings. I enjoyed work. I wouldn’t take T.O. The gals I dated left me because I had too much fun at work. I went to work and laughed my head off. It was the wild wild west.

From there, Steve and I decided to go to Investigations and worked Sexual Assaults. I worked there for 2 or 3 years. It was a real eye opener. I think the guys in Sexual Assaults work just as hard as the ones in Homicide—mainly because the victims are talking. The victim interview in Homicide is very rare. Then there was a need for a Night General detective with a background in Sexual Assaults so I took that while I was rotting on the sergeant’s list at number 19. I had been passed over 6 times and died number 2 on that list. Prior to that time while still in patrol, Arnie Bertotti, a lieutenant who later died in an off duty accident, came to me one day and asked me to do briefing. He wanted me to go in there and roast everyone in the room. I used to crack jokes in old Briefing Room 107

Vanguard: You?

Battaglia: Oh yeah.

Vanguard: I remember a briefing you once did wearing a German hat where you did the entire briefing using a German accent. That was a riot.

Battaglia: I had fun. We did the roast—it took about 45 minutes—they told Swings we’d be out late. I ripped everybody up and we had a good time yukking it up and laughing. No holds barred. There was foul language. That’s how it was back then. And everybody understood that this was just good times.  We did all kinds of stuff. It was all in good fun. I even gave a briefing in my bathrobe and slippers, unshaven, and called roll while drinking my coffee, looking at the paper and brushing my teeth. I used to throw a lot of off duty parties too. That was the reason I didn’t get promoted. They thought I was just not serious enough.

While doing Night General, it was the year of the Homicide. I think we had 31 homicides in 6 months. I got a lot of experience doing that. Lt. Trujillo, Steve Ronco who was a sergeant at the time, Bert Caro, and Sgt. Pete Graves—all those guys gave me some great insight. After dying number 2 on the sergeant’s list I was kind of down-trodden, but I got my hair up and just decided to study. I told Assistant Chief Horton, "If you don’t choose me I’m just going to come back again until you can’t ignore me." I scored like 17th or 18th on the list the next time. Just about the time I came back to Patrol, I got promoted. I was assigned to work District 8, now District Sam and parts of Lincoln and Robert. I had Russ Russell, Pat Boyd, Carlos Valencia, and Curtis Jackson. It was a good time.

From there I went to the East Side and worked District Paul on Midnights. Then I went to Swings with good days off—Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday. Got my first real taste of officer involved shootings with the Anton Ward Shooting—Jimmy Rodriguez and Rich Vasquez were the officers who worked for me at the time. I had gone to a Halloween party that night and Rich Saito who was covering for me got stuck with it. I still got dragged into it and had to give a deposition. That went on for years.

After that I found out YSD was opening up so I took that and did that for about 2 years. I think I still hold the record for the most totaled police cars and injured officers in one pursuit. That was a Cinco de Mayo pursuit after this guy slashed another guy with a machete. Dave Bone drew down on him but with the crowd, the guy managed to get into a car and flee. I caught up to the pursuit. Lansdowne was my Captain—he was in it. At one time there were probably 30 cars in the pursuit. We were spot lighting them to get out. We got it down to 4 officers, two Sergeants and a Captain. We chased them all the way down to Dixon Landing Road—they got stuck in the dirt. Steve Dixon went to pull the guy out of the car and the guy started up the car gain and it hit Steve in the head. Ed Tennant and I got back in the pursuit with them. Gunsky’s car was stuck in the weeds and when Armando Alvarez tried to push him out, they both got stuck. The catalytic converter set the weeds on fire and burned their cars up. But it continued on. We tried to pass them and the back passengers were telling them to cut right, cut left. They tried to bury us into embankments on the freeway. Then they tried to pass on the right and clipped a truck, fishtailed, and I center punched them at 70. That drove them into the center divider. Then they got hit from all angles and bailed out. The fight was on. They turned out to be "A Street" gang members out of Hayward. We took everybody into custody but totaled 7 police cars and put 8 officers in the hospital for a minimum of two weeks. We got a lot of pats on the head for that one.

After that I went to Motors for 5 years, then back to the Patrol. I stayed in Patrol for about a year and then did a second tour in Motors from 1997 until March of 2002. I headed up the Avoid the 13 program. We also did a lot of presidential, dignitary, and funeral escorts. The only time I had that much fun was when I was a volunteer mounted officer. They brought us in for the KKK demonstrations. Aubrey Parrott got hit in the head with a full can of coke by a demonstrator. They let the horses in and we just decimated the crowd. That’s when they realized we needed a mounted unit. But I’ve always loved giving tickets and investigating accidents and that’s still my primary love.

Vanguard: Tell us what happened with your illness over the past year.

Battaglia: Got off the bike in March of 2002 and then I had knee surgery on May 6 and a few days later they removed blood clots from the knee. I was pretty heavy then too, 280, and I was still smoking at that time. About 3 1/2 weeks later I had a terrible pain in my stomach. I told Shelly, "I don’t know what it is." I thought it was something I had eaten the night before. It didn’t go away so I went to the ER and they did a test and took some blood. They put me on painkillers but they didn’t work. They told me to go home. I thought I was too sick to go home but they said the tests were normal. I spent Fathers Day weekend in bed and remember very little. I guess the pain was that bad. Upon seeing my doctor on Monday I was immediately admitted into the hospital. He indicated that the tests done at the E.R had not come back normal. After going through a series of tests which were coming back normal and a clinical diagnosis of diverticulitus was made, Shelly requested another doctor be brought in for a second opinion. He also ran a test and upon receiving normal results from that test and coming in to tell me the results, my condition had deteriorated so badly he had no alternative but to do exploratory surgery. They called Shelly at work and told her she had 20 minutes to get to the hospital. She arrived just in time to walk me to the O.R. As I kissed her goodbye I said, "At least I won’t have this f---ing pain anymore."

They went in and found out I’d thrown a clot in my small intestine. Out of 22 feet of my small intestine, 20 of it was gangrene. They cut that out but I was fully septic. Following surgery, Shelly said my face was as big as a pumpkin. The skin was peeling off my hands. They put me on medicine to combat the sepsis but then my lungs failed. Where normally you breathe 21 percent oxygen in the atmosphere and your body saturates at 100—I had 100 percent oxygen and was only saturating at 50 percent. After they stabilized me a little bit, my liver failed. They thought I was going to die again. They gave me about a 5 percent chance to live. Then my kidneys failed and they put me on dialysis. Then I started turning around.

I spent 90 days in intensive care. From there they transferred me to VMC for rehab. They put me in a spinal cord unit. There were great people there but it wasn’t for a guy who was going to heal up. They taught me how to use a wheel chair and Shelly kept telling them, "But he’s not crippled." All my roommates were stroke or crash victims who were paralyzed from the chest down. I termed that place the "House of Pain and Shattered Dreams." Young kids with their lives totally devastated. At least I knew I would be walking and talking again.

Getting back to ICU at Good Samaritan, during the 7 weeks in an induced coma they woke me up to see if I had brain damage from the lack of oxygen. They needed to know before they went forward with my care. The neurologist told Shelly I passed all the tests and the fact that I smiled alone was an indication of high brain function. It did not appear that I had suffered any stroke. When they finally ended the induced coma I thought only hours had gone by since they wheeled me into surgery. I asked Shelly for a coke and a smoke and told her I wanted to go home.

The result of it was I clotted again in my leg and that wound up crushing some nerves. I asked Shelly why there was a cast on my leg and she told me there wasn’t, my leg was numb. I asked her what was this mousetrap on my stomach and she told me they had to cut out 20 feet of my intestine. I asked her how many feet I had left and she told me "two." I told her I was having trouble seeing and she said they couldn’t figure out why but I had lost my eyesight. The oxygen deprivation caused nerve damage. My toes, tongue, and fingertips are still numb. As the body is trying to save itself, it’s saying, "I can sacrifice this and this." And it did that to my optic nerves. They don’t know why I didn’t suffer massive brain damage. For my eyes to get shot to hell like that, I should have suffered some brain damage, but I didn’t. I was throwing clots throughout my body so I was on the most heparin they had probably ever put a human on before. I had a nice bushy mustache but constantly bleeding through my nose made that impractical. Shelly told them to shave it off. I had that mustache since 1973.

The 7 weeks I spent in the induced coma meant nothing to me. I woke up thinking it was the same day. I have little clips, you know like a movie where you open your eyes, and close them again. I saw my orthopedic surgeon and my trainer. I saw a couple of other people here and there. I didn’t see any light or tunnel.

Vanguard: None of that? How about flames? Any flames?

Battaglia: No, no. I was cold. They put me on this drug to paralyze me because I was fighting the respirator. They trached me eventually. The biggest thing was trying to get home. For weeks I didn’t eat. They kept me alive by pumping TPN (Total Parenteral Nutrition), in me—all the food you need is in there. But if you stay on it too long, it will start killing your liver. So I got ice cubes and had Shelly feeding me those. I was all detached inside. Each time they had to go in they cut little more gangrenous tissue. I had countless tubes sticking out of me.

Vanguard: What does having two feet of intestine left mean for you day to day?

Battaglia: The parts that I have left are my duodenum and 6 inches of each the beginning and end of my intestine. The end part is what controls how you "function" shall we say. Fatty foods are out. I have to eat in small amounts. It’s been a hard road. I was used to being a big eater. I went into the hospital at 280 and came out at 185. Hell of diet—I don’t recommend it for anybody. Living on clear liquids. Especially broth. Chicken broth was a delicacy. If I eat too fast, my body won’t process it and I’m paying hell the rest of the day. It’s a couple of days before I can get normalized again.

Vanguard: What’s going on with your leg?

Battaglia: They found out it wasn’t the femoral nerve. They thought it was all the way into my back. Turns out to be a nerve plexus, a peripheral nerve. They say that should come back, but it could take up to two years. Right now, I can’t lift my leg. I can get some movement out of it. I couldn’t do anything with it when I first got home. It was just dead.

Vanguard: So, very limited mobility in your left leg. What about your eyesight?

Battaglia: We’ve had a couple of ophthalmologists look at me, and the optic nerve in my left eye is white, which means that it’s dead. It’s supposed to be pink or reddish. My right eye is pale pink, which means it took damage too. The vision I do have is like the top half of my right eye, from the bridge of my nose over. As I talk, you notice my right eye will drift toward my nose. That’s so I get more of peripheral view and can see what’s going on. I get colors, movement. I can see the mountains but I can’t make them clear. I can’t read or drive. It’s like having smoked glass in front of you or sunglasses at midnight.

Vanguard: So you take in more through your peripheral vision than you do straight on?

Battaglia: Exactly. Dead on is blind. If I look at you straight on, you’re gone. I think I see you, but the mind plays tricks. I used to see a lot of nonsense stuff, which has gone away, thank God. I can watch some T.V. and make out some things. Shelly and the kids will narrate for me if I lose track. The kids have handled it really well. It was tough for them. I think they only stayed 3 nights at the house between June and October.

Vanguard: To what do you attribute getting through this?

Battaglia: I told Shelly and the kids, whatever they said privately to me after surgery, sparked something. And then the dream I had. I had this dream that I couldn’t breathe [Begins to get emotional]. I asked God, "Let me breathe, and I’ll do anything you want." Then they tore this plastic off of me and I started breathing again. I think that was my will to live. I kept telling myself, "I will not go gently into that good night." I was going to fight every step of the way.

I always used to tell Shelly and the kids that I am a Warlord for Justice. I take care of the little people, protect them. Those who are abused and battered. Put criminals in jail. I was a Warlord and I still am. I’m just kind of beat to shit. I’m scarred up now—I’ve got a lot of scars. They’re going to really admire me at the beach, I’ll tell you that. My navel’s over here now [points 4 inches right of center]. I look like I’ve been shot multiple times. But I wasn’t going to quit.

They gave me great care at Good Sam. A lot of docs saved my butt. They all said that it was internal fortitude. I knew when I woke up what my mission was. I didn’t care about me. I want to take care of Shelly and the kids—as much as I can.

There are a lot of people I have to thank. I told Shelly after the last Keith Kelly we went to, I don’t have a lot of friends here anymore. They’re all retired or dead. But when I look at all of the people who came to the hospital, I realized it was a real mark of success. I have everybody to thank. The department was fantastic. The Chief posted people at my door to watch over me even though he didn’t need to. I had guys to take care of Shelly and the kids, to get them whatever they needed. The department went the extra yard. I’m so proud of them. The people at Good Sam were totally impressed. They couldn’t believe what a brotherhood and sisterhood this is.

Vanguard: How many children do you have?

Battaglia: I have two—Willy Jr. is 14 going on 50 and Nicole (Nikky) is 11 going on 40. They’re good kids.

Vanguard: You’ve been married to Shelly how long?

Battaglia: March 16th was 18 years. It’s my first marriage.

Vanguard: And in spite of having Steve Windisch as a brother-in-law, you’ve been able to hold it together?

Battaglia: I’ll tell you—he was an inspiration to me too. He would spend time at the hospital telling me to fight hard and keep it up. That would just give me more drive. When you can’t see a lot, you don’t have to close your eyes. I’m not super religious and I don’t force it on anybody, but God got me here and kept me here. He hasn’t really told me what the full reason is yet. My son says I’m on call waiting. I haven’t begun to fight. I’m not done yet. I’m coming up for retirement in April, but I’m not done healing.

Vanguard: Is there any part of this that you can reduce to some sort of a lesson for the rest of us?

Battaglia: Yeah, I’ve told a couple of guys this. If what I’m going through means that somebody goes home and looks at their loved ones like a mountain spring and they have an insatiable thirst that they can’t quench—If they go home and hug their kids tight—If they just get healthy, then what I have gone through gives it some purpose. I think this was a wake-up call for everyone at work. Terrible things happen, and it happens to nice people. You can’t give up. You can’t fold. It’s the human spirit. The last thing is—those that want to bad mouth the department ought to just shut their mouths. If you’ve got a legitimate gripe, fine. But to gripe or say this place sucks, send them over to me. I’ll tell them what the department did for my family and me. Without the catastrophic time donation, Shelly wouldn’t have been able to be here helping me. She’s been by my side the entire time.

Vanguard: How are you guys doing on time donations?

Battaglia: Shelly might need to get some more time just to carry us through the summer. I’ve been trying to go through some vocational training like how to get by in the house. How to use the microwave and stuff like that.

Vanguard: Let’s go back to your education for a minute.

Battaglia: I be smart.

Vanguard: Where did you go to school?

Battaglia: I went to Archbishop Mitty and then to Santa Clara University and played ball for a couple of years. Santa Clara was a great school but everything was graded on a curve. So I finished up my B.A. in Psychology at San Jose State. When I was in college, I had applied to medical school. My dad, my brother, and my uncles are all doctors. They told me to apply again next year—it was an affirmative action type thing. There just wasn’t enough room for single white males. I had to be more competitive grade-wise. I didn’t want to play that game so I started working on my masters in psychology. That’s when I started doing ride-alongs with San Jose, Oakland, the S/O, Capitola, Campbell. I got the bug. I’m an adrenaline freak. Even today, I wake up in the middle of the night and hear sirens, my heart starts pumping.

Vanguard: Listening to you, it sounds like in the near future you’re looking at retirement and re-learning how to do day-to-day things. What about long term goals?

Battaglia: That’s a tough one. Everyone says, "You’ll figure out something." I’ve got to figure out something. It will come to me. I want to provide for my family. An inspiration for me is the guy down the street who’s totally blind. He’s been blind for 20 years. He lost his sight gradually. And that guy’s working full time. He has a seeing-eye dog. When I met him a couple of weeks ago, he was taking the heater out of his truck. He couldn’t see paying a garage to take it out. So he’s feeling around and he took it out. He gets up on his roof and does repairs, he works with power tools, and he’s totally blind. This guy is enjoying a good life and I foresee that too. I just don’t know what it is yet.

Maybe I’ll invent something that will aid sightless people—I find a big challenge with steps, because you’ve got to stop and feel it so you don’t drop off into air. I’m thinking of something with that but I’m not sure if it will work or not. My brain’s tweaking. Maybe I’ll take up writing. I’ve got to learn how to use the talking programs for the computer. That’s one thing I miss—not being able to read and write. I also want to be a better father than I was before. Being blind, I’ve gotten second sight in a lot of things. I see things totally different now.

Vanguard: If you could go back to work for one day and hold briefing with the entire department there, what would you say?

Battaglia: First, I’d have to thank everybody. Those who came to the hospital and those who couldn’t but thought about me and kept me in their daily prayers. And then I’d get to roll call and start yukking it up. I’d start cracking some jokes again. We get too "world serious" around here. We need to have humor. I’ve always been that way. I’ve always locked horns with commanders for being too easy going and laughing all the time. But I think as long as people are happy, they work harder. That would be my prime directive—to get everybody happy. It would probably be one of the best days we’d ever have at work. That’s the way I’d send them out.

Vanguard: I want to thank you for doing this interview and for you candor. You are a living miracle and an inspiration to all of us.

 

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