In October of 2024, fellow Trainer Garrett DeMilia and I taught an ASP Instructor Certification (AIC) course in Houston. One of our students was James “Bo” Black, a Texas Tech University police officer. In his late twenties, James immediately struck me as respectful, professional and squared away. I’m a Lubbock local, so we spoke a lot during the course, learned that we have several mutual friends, and even that —small world—his cousin is my Captain. James passed the class with flying colors, and we connected again in June 2025 to talk through his plans to train up his agency.
All of his plans changed two weeks later.
On 24 June, I heard news of a Texas Tech PD officer getting shot. I texted James right away, as he was the only one I knew in that department. I didn’t get a reply, and the names of the officers involved were not being released to the public. Three days later, my Captain (James’ cousin) broke the news to me, but reassuringly said “Bo told me to tell you he’s okay.” I went straight to the hospital, where he was in the ICU but communicative. He was lying flat on his back with tubes and wires connected to him, wearing a neck brace, machines beeping beside him. When I walked into his room, he could only move his eyes, but managed a warm smile as he greeted me first. Despite his agonizing and terrifying circumstances, he was all “yes ma’ams” and classic Texas-boy politeness.
He wanted to share his story.
James was working the night shift as an FTO. His OIT (Officer in Training) Prater was in his second week of field training. They went to assist another officer, Ridley, with a suspicious vehicle parked on the sidewalk under a pedestrian bridge. All the doors were open, and the male driver was walking around the pickup, shirtless. Prior to exiting their unit, James says his instincts told him to take the lead, rather than let his trainee run the call. James approached the driver’s side door to assist Officer Ridley. Seeing James approach, the subject said, “F**k this,” reached into the pickup and pulled out a shotgun. In the heartbeat of time that this happened, the officers grabbed the barrel and tried to fight the shotgun away. But the subject managed to get the shotgun aimed at James’ head and pulled the trigger.
James heard a click.
It was later determined that while the shotgun was loaded, Officer Ridley had knocked it out of battery, and it failed to discharge. James had already drawn his duty weapon, but did not have a clear shot with Ridley fighting the subject in very close quarters. James was able to get the shotgun to the ground, but the determined attacker reached back into the vehicle, pulled out a .22 handgun, aimed again and pulled the trigger.
This time it wasn’t a click.
The subject fired multiple rounds from inside the pickup. Officer Ridley was hit in the arm and vest, and James was hit by a ricocheting bullet. He collapsed. He didn’t know at the time that the round had hit him in the chin and jaw, but he saw how much blood he was spitting out, and he knew it was bad. James said his entire left side went numb—and he’s left-handed. That fact, and his position on the ground, prevented him from further employing his duty pistol. And he had bigger problems coming, in the form of a Ford pickup truck.
James recalls the assailant putting his truck in reverse, and running him over. The truck ran over James’ leg, back and head. OIT Prater, Officer Ridley and another trainee, Officer Eade, were firing on the assailant at this point, while James tried to get to his feet. But the assailant was determined to kill, so he aimed the truck—very intentionally this time—and ran James over again. James remembers thinking that was it. He was going to die.
James said he vividly remembers opening his eyes, and that everything seemed quiet. He was hyper-sensitive to everything, including the sights and smells from under the vehicle just inches above him. He felt the blood and mud pooled in his mouth, and he was telling himself to just keep breathing.
James was pulled to safety by his supervisor Corporal Bain and Officer Ridley. He was alive, and his attacker—who had a lengthy criminal history, military training and a truckload of guns and ammo—was not. Officers on scene rendered aid to their brother while waiting for EMS.
This entire incident took nineteen seconds.
At the hospital, the medical team found a dislocated right hip, damage to the right kneecap, several fractured vertebrae, fractures in the collarbone and both shoulders, and a broken neck. The CT scans revealed a bullet fragment in his left shoulder, where it came to rest after traveling through his jawline and neck. The fragment remains where it landed—the doctors having decided it was safer to leave it than remove it.
Fast-forward a few months, and against all odds, James has healed enough to return to light duty in investigations. He says he is doing better every day and feels “normal… for the most part.” He fully expects to return what he loves most about this job—being out on the street—and I have no doubt he will.
Officer James Black is a survivor.
There are a lot of reasons I have so much love and pride in being an ASP trainer. One of the most significant is our ethos of staying in the fight, with a relentless will to win, and passing that on to the officers we train. We must survive. We must be the ones to go home. James’ survival was truly against all odds, and his journey home took a while, but he’s home. He is a true inspiration to me, and I hope that sharing his story will inspire other officers.
Oh, one side note… the handcuffs.
This was the icing on the cake. Knowing that I train for ASP, James texted me some photos of the duty belt he wore that night. Everything on the belt was destroyed (getting run over twice by a truck will do that to even the best gear)… except his ASP Sentry Cuffs and Exo Cuff Cases. James told me they were caked in mud and blood, but they stayed intact—the cuffs didn’t even come out of their cases—and they still function perfectly. This story is definitely not about handcuffs or about gear at all, but I know that playing even this tiny supporting role in Officer James Black’s survival story means the world to the people at ASP. It validates all their efforts to make tools that are worthy of the people who carry them.
Lubbock-Cooper Police Department
ASP Trainer since 2022