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Officer Emily Schroff heard CSO Morris’ second call when she was parked in a nearby parking lot, drinking coffee and eating breakfast in her black police SUV. She flipped on her sirens and sped toward the scene. Like Morris, Schroff, now 27, received all of her police training in the Willamette Valley. By October 2019, she was in her fourth year with Albany PD, where she’s also a member of the SWAT negotiation team. Schroff arrived — body camera recording — and saw Morris standing at the open driver’s side door of the Nissan. Plymell was in the driver’s seat. As she approached, Schroff pulled purple plastic gloves over her hands, stretching them up over the outline of the state of Texas tattooed on her inner left wrist. “Out of the car, please,” Morris commanded. “I’m not doing anything wrong,” Plymell replied casually, maybe even a little annoyed. “I’m out of gas.” “Out of the car, please,” Morris repeated. “You need to get out of the car,” Schroff interjected, lowering her voice. “Do it now.” Schroff, too, had come across Plymell at least three times before. “I’m a licensed driver,” Plymell told her, still seated. Morris looked at Schroff, who started pulling Plymell by the arm. “Am I under arrest?” he asked. Yes, Schroff said, for failing to obey a lawful order, and interfering with an officer. They struggled for a few seconds. “You’re gonna get tased if you don’t get out of the car,” Schroff warned as she tugged at Plymell’s arm. She drew her Taser — a black device, shaped like a gun — and removed its barbs, preparing it for “drive-stun” mode, in which the device is pressed directly against the body for “pain compliance,” the use of painful stimulus to control an uncooperative person. Plymell yelled “OK! OK! OK! I’ll get out! I’ll get out!” He put his left foot on the Dolphin No Matter How Old I Am I Still Get Excited Everytime I See Dolphins Shirt ground just as Schroff pushed the Taser toward him. He flailed his arms, batting the device away. At the moment Schroff’s Taser began to click, she had been at the scene for 42 seconds. 

” Plymell yelled. “I didn’t do anything! I just ran out of gas!” Morris yelled into his radio that officers were now fighting with the subject. Other officers began to arrive, including Gina Bell, a former gym manager in her late 20s who had been on the force for only a year. Bell, who had never encountered Plymell before, ran toward the Nissan, where Schroff and Morris were grappling with Plymell. “Get out of the car right now or you’re going to be tased!” she screamed. “Tase him!” Schroff commanded, and Bell did not hesitate. The wires of her Taser launched with a loud pop, and Plymell’s yells transformed into high-pitched screaming. The officers dragged him from the car. “Do it again,” Schroff said. Bell’s Taser continued clicking as Plymell writhed on the ground. He twisted and kicked. As the officers piled on top of him, his torso was thrust underneath the Nissan. His sweatpants started to fall down. “I swear to God!” Plymell said as Bell tased him. “They’re gonna blow me up!” He screamed for help. “You already beat me once!” He yelled something, too, about how he didn’t “see those little girls” — a discordant note that records and post-incident interviews never explained. Another officer arrived. “Tase him again?” the new officer asked the police piled on the ground. “No!” Morris shouted. “Don’t tase him again, that’s gonna get one of us.” As Plymell continued to yell for help, the officers struggled to get his right arm out from underneath his body. “Help!” Plymell cried into the pavement.

 “He’s still breathing, though,” Schroff said. The officers pulled Plymell out from underneath the car and snapped his wrists into cuffs, propping him up into a seated position. “Is this Plymell?” Schroff asked. “Is this James Plymell?” “Sir?” Bell called, looking at Plymell’s face. “Do we need to do CPR? What the f--k? He’s blue, you guys — put him down!” The struggle had lasted just over four minutes; a swarm of officers new to the scene now gathered, performing CPR until local medics arrived. They worked on Plymell for 20 minutes. But the man — who minutes before had been simply a person stranded on the side of the road — was pronounced dead at 8:51 a.M. As Schroff stood by watching, another officer approached her. “Was he under the influence of meth?” he asked. She wasn’t sure, she said — maybe alcohol? She was breathing hard, winded from performing chest compressions on Plymell. “In all past incidents where we’ve had to fight him, he’s under the influence of meth at the time,” the officer told her before looking down at her body camera. “Are you recording?” he asked. She said yes. The officer walked away. “I wouldn’t say anything further,” said another officer standing nearby.

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