When Jabir Pasha heard the “pop, pop, pop” noise outside his home Thursday afternoon, he figured it was just the kids setting off firecrackers again.
But something about the noise didn’t seem right to the 67-year-old. So Pasha hoisted himself from his chair and peered out the window.
That’s when he saw his friend of nearly 20 years, lying at the end of his driveway, bleeding.
“Help me, help me!” he heard Baltimore Police Sgt. Isaac Carrington, 43, yell out.
Police said Carrington, a 22-year veteran of the force, was off duty and standing outside his home just before 3:30 p.m. in the 5600 block of Summerfield Ave. and speaking with a neighbor when a car pulled onto the street and at least one masked male pulled out a gun and attempted to rob them.
The neighbor threw what he had to the ground and took off running, while Carrington ran in the opposite direction, police said. The gunman followed Carrington and shot him multiple times. He was later taken to University of Maryland Shock Trauma, where he remained in critical condition Friday afternoon.
Officers took two people into custody Friday who were inside a car police that said looked similar to one allegedly used by suspects in the incident.
Pasha said the reason he lives in the Frankford neighborhood is because of Carrington.
The two of them met in 2002 when Pasha worked as a trauma clinician through a joint program between Johns Hopkins Hospital and the police department working with kids who have experienced violence. Carrington, who also goes by the name “Ike,” was an officer involved with the program.
The two bonded. Pasha enjoyed Carrington’s easygoing and caring personality.
So, when a house opened up at the end of the block, Carrington urged Pasha to move to the quiet, close-knit neighborhood.
By the time Pasha rushed outside Thursday, another neighbor already was helping Carrington and was on the phone with 911. Pasha told the neighbor to go and get towels so they could apply pressure to the gunshot wounds Carrington had suffered.
Four or five other neighbors came out, each taking an area to apply pressure. As the sergeant lay face down on the hot concrete, it was clear Carrington had been shot in his right leg, left arm and his back.
The neighbors pleaded with Carrington to remain still. Pasha said the sergeant kept trying to flip himself over and kept repeating, “I can’t feel my legs, I can’t feel my legs.”
And as Pasha firmly pressed the towel to his friend’s back, he said he just kept thinking to himself: “‘I don’t want my friend to die. Not here in this street.’”
Law enforcement arrived quickly on scene. Two of them applied tourniquets to Carrington’s arm and leg, Pasha said.
Pasha said when the first responding officer arrived on scene, he flipped Carrington over onto his back.
“That’s one of our own. That’s my sergeant,” the officer said to Pasha.
An ambulance arrived almost immediately and Carrington was transported from the scene in “less than one minute,” Assistant Fire Chief Tavon Claggett said during a news conference Thursday night.
Though the crime itself came as a shock to many in the neighborhood, Pasha wasn’t surprised at how the community rallied to help save Carrington.
“It’s what we do,” Pasha said. “And I’m glad if someone had to be there to help him, it was his neighbors.”
Frankford’s mostly full of homeowners, Pasha said, who vary from the retired — like Pasha — to those with families and young children — like Carrington. Pasha said it’s the kind of neighborhood where when a snowstorm hits, everybody will pitch in to dig out your car.
“This is not a neighborhood where there are a lot of problems,” Pasha said. “When my grandchildren come over, I’m not afraid for them to ride their bikes or play outside.”
Carrington is a family man and a working man, always coming and going with his children, Pasha said. He’s also somebody who is friendly and loves his community.
If Pasha ever needed anything, he would never think twice about knocking on Carrington’s door. After all, he’s the type of guy who always waves back and makes conversation, even if he doesn’t know you, Pasha said.
“He’s the kind of person you want to be an officer,” Pasha said.