In the sun-drenched town of Henderson, Nevada, a twist of fate unraveled the freshly woven threads of one man’s future in law enforcement. Just a day after tossing his cap in the air as a proud graduate of the police academy on March 21st, Chasen Bradford’s celebrations took a sharp turn into the valley of regret. It was a tale of fleeting triumph eclipsed by a grave misstep—a drink too many, a drive too reckless, an arrest too ironic for the newest addition to the Las Vegas police force.
The incident began to unfold under the cover of night at precisely 10:20 p.m. last Friday when a concerned citizen’s fingers raced across her phone, dialing 911. Her voice crackled through the line, painting a portrait of chaos—a grey Ford pickup careening like a wayward storm, clashing with medians and climbing curbs in a violent ballet of metal and rubber.
Responding to the call, an officer of the law encountered Bradford behind the wheel—a vivid image of his mug shot later searing into public memory—and detected the telltale scent of alcohol spilling from the cabin of the truck. It was then that the officer began the dance of sobriety checks. With seasoned precision, he noted every misstep and sway, cataloging a damning six out of six indicators of inebriation. The grand finale, a breathalyzer, revealed a blood alcohol concentration of 0.104, soaring beyond the legal limit like a misguided rocket.
Earlier, Bradford had downplayed his consumption, stating a modest two beers had passed his lips. The truth, however, tumbled out as freely as his earlier drinks; five or six had been the real count. His statistics as a pitcher—formerly for the illustrious New York Mets in 2017 and later the Seattle Mariners—flaunted seven wins and nary a loss with an impressive earned run average of 3.89. Yet here, on the field of life, Bradford faced his first deflating defeat.
Hauled away to the Henderson Detention Center, the breathalyzer remained unswayed by jerseys or trophies, clocking in at .094 and .098, sealing Bradford’s fate. The following morning brought not only the sun but also freedom, albeit at the steep price of a $2,000 cash bond.
But victory was short-lived. The Henderson Police, faithful to their stringent standards, swiftly severed Bradford’s tenure as an officer. In a decisive move by Police Chief Hollie Chadwick, the department fortified its stance against DUIs, citing the perilous risk posed to the community. Bradford’s threadbare post-baseball career in uniform ended before the ink on his degree could even dry.
As terms of his release, Bradford now faces a path littered with restrictions—no alcohol, no controlled substances, no marijuana, and certainly no repeat encounters with the handcuffs that once he thought to wield. His arraignment looms on the horizon, scheduled for April 22 at the Henderson Municipal Court.
Bradford’s trajectory from pitching mounds to booking rooms is punctuated by a stark reminder: the rules of the road spare no one, not even those freshly adorned with the badge.
