After Leaving Disabled Victim in The Cold, the Police Work to Make It Right

Fredrick Brennan on his Motorized Wheelchair

When the detectives arrived at Fredrick Brennan’s apartment in Brooklyn in January 2014, it was not to question him about the theft or show him pictures of suspects or return the money stolen from him. That had all been taken care of already.

The detectives brought Mr. Brennan something else: a hot pizza. And, another time, Chinese takeout. A sweatshirt that read “N.Y.P.D.” And some elbow grease, as three detectives put together a new entertainment center for his flat-screen television.

These gestures were a mea culpa from the squad that handled a case involving Mr. Brennan, who was 19 when a man stole his wallet from his lap in the Port Authority Bus Terminal on Jan. 1.

Mr. Brennan is severely disabled, born with osteogenesis imperfecta, or brittle bone disease, and spends all day in a motorized wheelchair, his tiny legs curled beneath him. He moved to Brooklyn in August.Four months later, on New Year’s Day, he was returning from a visit to his mother’s home in Atlantic City. An acquaintance who knew his bank PIN had recently stolen from him, he said, and he was afraid to leave his money behind while he was away, so he had it all in his wallet. When Mr. Brennan returned to New York, a man in the bus terminal snatched the wallet and ran off with more than $4,000 that Mr. Brennan was saving for a better wheelchair.

The police quickly arrested a suspect, Chris Sanchez, and asked Mr. Brennan to travel from the apartment in Midwood, Brooklyn, to a precinct house near Union Square to look at a lineup. He did, but before he could get back home, a heavy snowstorm arrived. He asked for a ride, but a detective told him they had no vehicles to accommodate his chair, and instead pushed him to a subway to go it alone.

Mr. Brennan’s wheelchair was old and prone to shorting out, and he became stranded in the snow in Brooklyn late that night. He called 911 and was taken to a hospital and treated for hypothermia. I met him a couple of weeks later, and again this week, and heard of his change of fortune since the start to the year.

Many people, moved by Mr. Brennan’s stiff upper lip throughout the ordeal, sent donations for a new wheelchair to a fund created by his boss, Aaron Parnes, who runs Razor Clicks, a company that designs websites. The money quickly ran up to $15,000, and Mr. Parnes spoke with a manufacturer of power wheelchairs, Ocean Home Health.

NY Police Commissioner Bratton

Mr. Brennan enjoyed the attention — former classmates and teachers reached out and said hello, and his mother was pleased. And it is not every New Yorker who has police detectives banging together an entertainment center in the living room. It became clear that this show of outreach came from the top when Mr. Brennan answered his cellphone one night and was greeted by Commissioner William J Bratton. 

“Sorry that you had the experience that you had in terms of dealing with us,” the commissioner said. “Hopefully things are basically starting to move forward for you.”

Mr. Brennan recorded the call on his phone for posterity. He thanked the commissioner for getting his stolen money returned quickly, and complimented the officers who made the quick arrest.

“I thank you for your forbearance with us,” the commissioner said.

Mr. Sanchez has pleaded not guilty, and his case is pending.

Mr. Brennan’s life soon returned to normal, which is to say, painful. He turned 20 last month. He estimates that he has broken his bones 120 times, and what felt like No. 121 a couple weeks ago when he fell to his bathroom floor while climbing down from the toilet. He landed on his left leg.

“I could feel it crack,” he said. “It swelled up a lot.” But it healed quicker than breaks in the past, and he now believes it was just a sprain. Doctors are considering surgery to straighten his spine.

“I could grow four inches,” Mr. Brennan said, smiling.

On March 4, a new wheelchair arrived. Compared with the last one, it is a Cadillac, with a seat that rises 12 inches and a smooth suspension to negotiate the sidewalks and street crossings of Brooklyn.