Northumbria Police arrested one man and put him inside the police vehicle.
Officers were in the process of arresting a second man in connection with the disorder when the prisoner inside the police vehicle made a dash for freedom.
An air ambulance was called and the man was given cardiopulmonary resuscitation by officers until paramedics arrived.
Despite efforts to save him, he was pronounced dead at the scene.
We might never know what drove the suspect to fling himself off a cliff rather than face further questioning. Surely, he didn't face long years in jail for such a minor offense. However, something inside him harbored a terrible guilt or pain.
In one of my novels Ever Changing Sea, as yet unpublished, I show a similar scene through the eyes of a visionary traveler. Liliha, the heroine, experiences visions when she is called to help someone in need. In my writing, I used snippets of news stories, similar to the one above, and delved deeper into the mind of the contacted person. Here's the excerpt:
That swirling, sucking with the sweet essence invaded Liliha's senses. Knowing she should look busy, she leaned down to her bag on the floor. Her visions shouldn't be so frequent. No time to worry about what she'd face. A roar echoed in her head, becoming louder. Over and over, harsh noise banged and clashed in a monotony of sound in her spin inside the tunnel.
* * * *
The murk lifts in patches. I'm hovering above a man on the edge of a tall cliff, peering at the waves that pound over the rocks below.
Several people stand on the landward side, and more hurry toward him along a walkway.
As I'm sucked toward him, I notice him point a mobile phone at the towering rocks to one side above the sheer drop, and then punch the button.
I meld with him, and sense Guy's high state of anxiety by his rapid pulse rate and jerky movements. He pockets his phone and steps closer to the edge. Vertigo grips him. Over and over, a voice in his mind urges him, 'Jump, jump'.
With urgency, I whisper, 'Don't do it, Guy. You can get through this'. He concentrates more on the nagging voice of destruction. Somehow, I have to reach his inner core. I ease calming thoughts into his mind—each drowned by the command, 'Jump, jump'.
At the sound of a motor, he sees a lifeboat below, surging over the waves toward him. A helicopter hovers above. He ducks. The bitch. She's called the authorities, probably sent them the picture he texted to her earlier. He yells in defiance. "Get away from me." Anguish strangles his voice. The goading continues. 'Jump, jump'.
I soothe his distracted mind. 'Easy now. You don't have to get so het up. It's not too late, You can step back now'. At the approach of the helicopter, he shifts closer to the edge.
"Get away, I told you."
'What's bothering you'? I continue to offer the antidote of calm.
Guy rants, "She's driven me to ... this. She tried. She couldn't ... I caught them. Together. Last night." His head jerks toward the landed helicopter, blades whirring.
A winchman lands and approaches."Perhaps we can help. If you'd—"
Guy gazes down at the sea. "Don't come any closer. I'll jump."
"All right. I'll stay here." The rescuer lowers his voice. "Tell me why you want to jump."
"Why I want to jump?" Guy's voice catches. "Why not? She lay in my best friend's arms. Hot and steamy. She just smiled. Do you hear? She just smiled ... like she was glad."
His internal voice chants in singsong repetition, 'Jump, jump'.
I will my essence to the winchman and whisper, 'He could go at any moment. Be careful'. The man steadies his pace and holds his hands out from either side of his body in a gesture of non-aggression.
Guy gazes out to sea, and then faces the onlookers. "Back off."
Remaining with the winchman, I advise, 'He's wound up and ready to jump."
He stops and calls, "Let's talk this over."
The man takes a peek over the edge.
The rescuer calls, "Wait. Talk to me a moment longer."
I whisper, 'Be silent for a moment'.
More people converge on the area, worry and concern in their expressions. Some unknown force pushes them forward. I block this compulsion with my mind.
Guy raises his fist and shouts his defiance. "I said leave me alone."
I need to return to Guy, yet I'm caught between an effort to stop coercion from the others, and soothing the troubled man.
While the onlookers hover, Guy takes a breath and jumps. They run forward and see his body careen off a ledge twenty feet above the water. A collective sigh comes from the onlookers.
I'm too late.
I whisper to the winchman. 'There's nothing you could have done. He'd already made up his mind'.
He swallows and sighs.
At least I have eased the rescuer's mind although the crowd will have difficulty releasing memories of their horror of this moment. I lift away filled with regret.
* * * *
Liliha puzzled over her inability to prevent the suicide. Who possessed the bracelet and manipulated Guy's mind with such dark thoughts? All of a sudden, Liliha's plans for a peaceful life had changed. Wise words slid into her mind: Life is change. With a calming breath, she sat up clutching a hankie and concentrated on her chatting family.
And now you know why I write daily views on news.
A deceased writer colleague gave me the inner workings of the man's mind. His words will live on in my work, if not his own: Miss Alice Merriwether’s Long Lost Cakes. Carol Kean talks about Barry Aitchison's humor and his book.
Do you ever wonder what goes on beneath the surface of people in news stories?