In the Hands of an Angel

By Richard B. Whitaker

On August 30, 1967, the heat in Los Angeles did little to soothe the tempers of those prone to rioting. Because of the increased violence and greater need for police officers on the street, I found myself working a Day Watch assignment on the Los Angeles Police Department rather than my normal midnight to 8:00 am shift. When the long, hard day ended at about 5 pm, I went end-of-watch – exhausted.

As I trudged up the distressed sidewalk that led from the station on Pico to the employees’ parking lot, I smiled as I thought about my last ten months with the police department, especially my last eight months working patrol as a uniformed street cop. In May, my twenty-second birthday came and went without fanfare and now, the completion of my first year, on October 25, loomed brightly on the horizon.

The heat hovered at around the 90-degree mark. I walked slowly into the unsecured parking lot and unlocked the door of my 1966 red, Volkswagen Bug. I placed my service revolver on the passenger seat, then slid onto the driver’s seat and placed my off-duty snub nose revolver between my legs and began the long drive home.

Driving with the windows down, I cranked the radio volume up and sang along to the Five Satins, and their 1956 classic Doo Wop hit, “In the Still of the Night.” As a musician, the vintage Doo Wop helped me relax after fighting crime all day.

When traffic slowed and the freeway began to feel more like a parking lot than a modern thoroughfare, I decided to exit onto Fulton Avenue. I continued on Fulton and began to relax. I would be home in less than ten minutes. As I approached the intersection of Burbank and Fulton Avenues, I looked up at the tri-light traffic signal and was grateful to see I had a green light.

I entered the intersection at about 30 mph, shot a quick look to my left and out of the corner of my eye saw a large, white Cadillac about to run the red light. I immediately knew a collision was imminent and I was going to die. Reacting to the threat, I gripped the steering wheel with all the strength I had and awaited the impact!

Without braking, the Cadillac – traveling at an estimated 70 miles per hour – slammed unabated into my Volkswagen and struck it just behind the driver’s door with an explosive force more powerful than anything I had ever experienced. Suddenly, all went black.

In the darkness, I felt a tremendous pressure being exerted on either side of my neck, just above my shoulders; a pressure that felt as if two, large powerful hands were gripping and squeezing as they pulled me upward.

Suddenly, I was ripped from the driver’s seat, pulled up and across the short gearshift column, and felt myself flying out the open passenger window. Then, I felt the same enormous hands under my back and realized that I was in a prone position.

Then came the warmth. The all-encompassing warmth, and incredible feeling that flowed through me and permeated every fiber of my being was accompanied by a peacefulness I had never before known. I recall thinking it was much like the feeling you experience just as the anesthesia for an operation became effective – multiplied a thousand times.

With the warmth and the peaceful feeling came the realization that, in the twinkling-of-an-eye, my spirit body had separated from my physical body; an action that found me standing directly over my physical body and looking down at it.

I knew I was dead.

For some reason, maybe just to verify I was dead and my spirit body did in fact exist, I lifted my dangling arms and stretched them forward. With arms forward and my palms up, I examined my hands, then turned them over to look at both sides. I glanced down at my feet, legs and chest. What I saw was that my spirit form was identical to my physical body. Then I looked across at my physical body, lying in front of me. My eyes were closed, my arms were at my sides, and I appeared to be sleeping. Staring at my body, I saw I had not suffered any visible physical injuries in the accident, nor did I see any blood. I also realized I was traveling down a dark tunnel at an inordinate rate of speed.

Looking just beyond my body, I saw the figure of a man standing quietly with his arms outstretched and his hands placed under my back. He wore a brilliant, white tunic-like garment with sleeves that appeared to extend beyond his elbows and his presence was unlike anything I had ever seen before. His face glistened brightly as though a million particles of ground glass had been sprinkled over him. I stared into his eyes. He looked familiar, though I was unable to identify how I knew him.

During the entire experience, he never spoke, nor did he smile or frown. His presence reflected a business-like attitude. He was here on an assignment. As we continued our rapid travel down the dark tunnel, void of any light, I turned my head and saw a brilliant white light that seemed to be drawing me toward it.

As I neared the brilliant light at the end of the tunnel, I began to hear voices. They were faint at first but soon I understood what they were saying.

“He’s dead; cover him up,” one whispered reverently.

My mind raced. Don’t do anything we’ll all regret, I thought.

“An ambulance is on the way,” another voice said. Someone threw a blanket over my body, then I heard the wailing of a siren.

That must be for me, I thought.

As suddenly as the experience began, it ended. My spirit reentered my body, laying prone on the sidewalk, through my head and slipped easily back into place. There was no pain, no discomfort. Suddenly, I awoke. As I sat up, the blanket fell from my face and upper torso. There was more than one audible gasp and a few piercing screams from the crowd gathered around me.

“I’m a police officer,” I whispered. “I need to get my guns out of my car.”

Slowly, and without any assistance, I stood and walked over to the Volkswagen that was lying on the driver’s side about 100 feet from where the two cars had collided. With very little effort, I climbed up onto the passenger side, dropped through the window feet first, and located my guns on the driver’s floorboard just under the brake pedal. Grabbing them, I pulled myself back out the passenger window, walked to the curb, and sat down to await the ambulance.

As the ambulance pulled up and parked, one attendant stepped out and approached me as I sat seated on the curb. “We were told this traffic accident might have a fatality, but I don’t see a body. Any idea where the victim is?”

I stood and smiled. “I guess you’re looking at him.”

He shook his head and said, “Well, climb into the back of the ambulance and we’ll take you to the hospital.”

The angel had carried me approximately 135 feet before placing me on the sidewalk. With angelic assistance, my body traveled across four lanes of rush-hour traffic. It was estimated that I had been on the sidewalk, dead, for at least fifteen minutes before I sat up.

I walked into the hospital without assistance. When the ambulance attendants told the hospital personnel they found me seated on the curb, all they could do was shrug their shoulders as one commented, ‘It’s a miracle!”

Because I had no external bleeding, the doctor did a very perfunctory examination. He didn’t find any fractures nor internal bleeding either. What he did find were some superficial abrasions to my arms and back as a result of being placed on the concrete sidewalk. Nonetheless, shortly after the accident I felt as though I had been in a violent street fight – and lost!

This experience had a tremendous impact on me and I later spent a great deal of time seeking a better understand what had happened and why I was spared.

One night as I knelt next to my bed in prayer, pondering the experience, a vision opened before me and I saw the accident. I observed the angel as he pulled me out of my seat, across the gearshift column and through the open passenger window, all before the car flipped and careened across the street. I watched as he gently set me down on the concrete sidewalk, and after doing so, with his assignment completed, he was gone. As the vision closed, the words of this promise in Psalm 91: 11-12, entered my mind:

“For he will command his angels concerning you to guard you in all your ways; they will lift you up in their hands, so that you will not strike your foot against a stone.”

I then knew that I had received that marvelous promise. I had been watched over, and protected, ensuring I would be able to continue my mortal journey and do all within my power to witness that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God and the Holy Messiah, and that angels attend and miracles have not ceased to occur, even in these perilous times.