Get out of the face.
>> Sometimes what looks like a simple
traffic stop or a quiet bike arrest
becomes a life and death decision in
seconds. One man drove a car like it was
a weapon with his toddler strapped in
the back seat.
>> Hey guys, I got someone raming my patrol
car. Get out the car. Give me Give me
your Show me your hands. Show me your
hands. Get out the car. Show me your
hands.
>> Another raised a gun inches from an
officer's face and fired. two suspects,
two near tragedies, and two body cams
that captured the chaos from start to
finish. These aren't just action clips.
They're reminders that real officers
face real danger.
>> Get out the car. Get out the car.
Get out the car.
Get out the car.
Stop will shoot you.
>> Not in war zones, but in neighborhoods,
not always from criminals with long
records, but from men who believe they
can outrun responsibility, bullets, or
both. And when it all unfolds in real
time, there's no room for hesitation.
>> 643 man, they just tried to ram me.
>> He just went through a fence. June 27th,
2025. Marian County, Florida. Was just
after 400 p.m. in Ocala. The sun high,
roads busy, kids playing in yards. A
typical summer day. Deputies were
patrolling the intersection of Silver
Pass and Fairway Circle. part of a
routine check in a neighborhood.
>> We're going
eastbound on Silver Road currently.
>> Nothing had gone wrong until now. They
noticed a silver Kia cruising by.
Heavily tinted windows, obscured license
plate frame, the decorative ring
concealed the state identifier. A
violation that could indicate someone
hiding more than just numbers.
made a ride on Emerald Road. We're going
northbound for Mary Camp.
>> Deputies didn't rush, circled, watched,
assessed, but before they could light up
the patrol car, the Kia abruptly whipped
into a nearby apartment complex and
stopped. The driver, later identified as
24-year-old Jordan Skiing, pulled into a
parking spot, then without warning,
threw his car in reverse. Bam.
He's driving pretty carelessly.
I continue.
He slammed into the front of the patrol
car once and again. One deputy stepped
out, his hand moving toward his holster,
not to shoot, but to brace, to react.
But before any command could be given,
Ski launched forward again, narrowly
missing a second cruiser and speeding
away. From that moment on, the body cam
shows a different world. What was just a
suspicious stop becomes a full-blown
pursuit through public streets.
But this wasn't just a reckless driver.
There was a one-year-old child in the
back seat. His own daughter,
unrestrained, unprotected, held hostage
not by criminals, but by her father's
decisions. A silver Kia barreled through
intersections, sliced through fences,
and sent up clouds of dirt and grass as
it tore across lawns. Shorts, black
shirt, camo pants.
Get on the ground. There's pain over
there waiting on you.
At
>> one point, the vehicle went airborne,
flying off a dip in the road and
slamming back down in the middle of
traffic. Every bounce, every impact, the
baby felt it. Inside the vehicle,
deputies would later discover a loaded
handgun tucked between seats, marijuana
package for sale, and drug
paraphernalia, all within reach of that
child. But at that moment,
54
people ridiculous.
>> None of that was known. All officers
knew was that a child was in danger and
that Ski was willing to destroy
everything in his path to avoid being
stopped. For nearly 15 minutes, the
pursuit threaded through neighborhoods,
forcing families back indoors, neighbors
to dive out of the way. Finally, near
Southeast 88th Street, deputies saw an
opportunity. They initiated a PAT
maneuver, spinning the vehicle sideways
and pinning it between cruisers and a
line of hedges. Skiing bailed, sprinting
from the driver's side door and diving
into the nearby woods. The child was
still in the car, crying alone. Body
cams pick up the tension. Go after him.
Watch the kid. Check the back seat. As
one team chased Ski, others rushed to
the car to ensure the child was okay.
Through thick brush and trees, Ski
pushed forward, ignoring every shouted
command to stop and off.
>> Get in that car. You ain't getting
nothing.
>> No, I'm You ain't getting nothing. Get
in the car. I didn't double those catch.
Thank you.
officer
shouted, "You're going to get tased." He
didn't listen. The taser cracked. Skiing
collapsed. He wasn't unconscious, but he
was no longer a threat. Cuffed,
searched, secured. In the back of a
patrol car, Sche finally seemed to
realize it was over. The aftermath was
brutal. The child was visibly shaken,
but unharmed. Officers handed her over
to medical personnel and later reunited
her with her mother. The items in the
car painted a clearer picture. Handgun
was loaded. The marijuana wasn't for
personal use. It was prepped for
distribution. Drug tools and baggies sat
beneath the passenger seat. This wasn't
a misunderstanding. This was a man on
probation for fleeing and eluding trying
to escape justice again. And in doing
so, he used his own child as a human
shield, rammed police vehicles, put
innocent drivers, bystanders, and his
daughter at extreme risk.
Thank you.
>> Your keys.
>> I don't see any damage on my car, which
is shocking.
I went through a fence over a street
sign.
Charges came fast. Aggravated assault on
law enforcement, fleeing and eluding,
child neglect, drug trafficking,
probation violation, and more. But what
the public saw, what the body cam
revealed was something no charge sheet
can capture. The raw tension of trained
deputies trying not to shoot. the
discipline it took not to open fire when
their cruisers were rammed. And the
urgency of officers who had to chase a
suspect on foot while still making sure
a crying child in the back seat didn't
become a casualty. This wasn't just
about enforcement. It was about
restraint, about professionals staying
calm, even when the man they were
chasing put everyone, including his own
child, in the crosshairs.
>> No.
What's that look like? Oh yeah, there's
a magazine sticking out.
>> Let me Don't touch it. I'm going to move
my car.
>> June 22nd, 2025, Rochester, New York.
This one didn't start with a car chase,
just a man on a bicycle. The man was
Edison Estra Cohen, 35 years old. And
police weren't just trying to talk.
Earlier that same day, David Vasquez,
30, was shot and killed on Oscar Street.
Witnesses named Esther Cohen as the
shooter. When officers spotted him
riding on North Clinton Avenue, they
moved quickly, dropped the bike, and
ran. Body cam shows officers chasing him
down an alley. No sirens, no shouting,
just the fast crackle of boots on
pavement.
>> Okay. Shots fired. Shots fired. Right
here. We got
Okay. No, he's a guy. Don't let him
leave. Don't let him leave. He's good.
He's a witness. Quinn, don't let him
leave.
>> Blur as Tra Cohen pulls a 9mm handgun
from just inches away. Fires directly at
an officer. Muzzle flash is so close it
leaves burn wounds on the officer's face
and ears. A second officer doesn't
hesitate. He fires back, striking
Estramo multiple times. The suspect
crumples, but officers don't celebrate.
They secure the weapon. They call for
medics. They check each other's wounds.
Estra Cohoen survives. The officer who
was shot at, he does too. Still
recovering, still shaken. A few days
later, the suspect is indicted. Murder
in the second degree. Attempted
aggravated murder of a police officer,
first-degree robbery, and four counts of
illegal weapon possession. Turns out
this wasn't his first crime. He'd
already been convicted of two felonies
last year and skipped sentencing. Now,
the system will try again, but the body
cam doesn't show.
Go step over.
He's going to freak.
Block him. Block him. Block him. I can't
run the guy over.
You better stop. He's running.
>> War room drama. It shows how close that
officer came to dying. Not in a
gunfight, but in a split second of
silence. In Florida, a toddler became a
hostage to speed as her father tore
through fences in neighborhoods trying
to outrun accountability. In New York, a
murder suspect tried to end a police
officer's life with a bullet fired from
inches away. These weren't chaotic
scenes from a war. They were two
American neighborhoods, and they didn't
start with violence. They started with a
simple traffic concern, a quiet bike
ride, two officers doing their job, but
body cam never lies. It shows how fast
the moment can break and how officers
without warning must choose between
backing off or jumping in. In both
cases, lives were saved, but only
because training beat panic and courage
felt the line. Because what officers
walk into is never as small as it seems.