A Pit Bull Face-Off

Zohnn Griggs could only watch as two pit bulls viciously mauled a man.

In a Pool of Blood

Lamar Avenue is one of the busiest roads in Memphis. So for someone to slam on the brakes and start backing up was pure suicide. That’s what Zohnn Griggs was thinking as he watched the car in front of him one chilly night last February. Then he realized what had prompted the other driver to stop. A man was lying on the sidewalk, frantically kicking at two dogs that were hunched over him and snarling.

“Whoa, it looks like someone is getting attacked,” Griggs said to his two sons, Denarius, 12, and DeShun, 9. Their late-night run to McDonald’s was going to have to wait.

He swung his Dodge Durango across six lanes in a swooping U-turn and circled back. His headlights clearly showed a horrific scene: 58-year-old James Chapple, Jr., was on the ground screaming as two powerfully built pit bulls dragged him along the sidewalk. Earlier that evening, the pair had escaped through an open door at a nearby car repair garage, where they were used as guard dogs. Griggs blasted his horn, hoping to scare them off. The dogs didn’t move, but they stopped biting long enough for the victim to struggle to his knees.

“Hop in my truck,” Griggs yelled.

“I can’t,” the man said softly.

On impulse, Griggs opened his door and was about to run to help when Denarius grabbed him. “Dad, don’t,” he said.

The 33-year-old shipping supervisor knew his son was right. He had nothing to protect himself with. He wasn’t even wearing a jacket. All he had on was a jogging suit. He’d dressed to be comfortable for a DJ gig earlier that evening, playing music at a party for disabled children put on by the parks and recreation division.

Griggs took out his cell phone, dialed 911 and told the operator what was happening. After hanging up, he decided he had to do something besides sit there and wait for help to arrive. He and his family lived nearby, so he knew there was a firehouse about half a block away. He put his truck in gear and drove up the road. On the ground near the station, he saw a lead pipe about four feet long. He grabbed it and jumped back in his truck.

Only a couple of minutes had passed, but by the time he returned, the man was facedown in a pool of blood, absolutely still. The dogs stood over him, and—there is no other word for it—they were feeding. Griggs rolled down the window and screamed, “Let him go!” The animals ignored him.

He grabbed the pipe, took a deep breath and eased his six-two, 250-pound frame out from behind the wheel. No sooner had he closed the door when the bigger dog, a huge male about half Griggs’s size, growled and came charging straight at him.

"You Saved My Life"

Griggs stood ready and with one swing of the pipe deflected the dog. Startled, it turned and ran for the car repair shop.

The smaller pit bull, a female, ignored Griggs as he approached. He edged close enough to prod at her, driving her off to join the male.

Gently, Griggs reached down and tugged at the man’s shredded jacket. “Sir, sir,” he called out. No response. For a moment Griggs thought of moving Chapple to a safer spot or at least rolling him over. He decided against it, worried that any movement might make his injuries worse. He considered going for help but didn’t want to leave the man alone, for fear the dogs might return. So he stood there, guarding the body, trying to decide what to do next.

Thankfully, just a few minutes later, a police cruiser came driving by. Griggs flagged it down and told the officers what had happened. Even with an ambulance and animal control on the way, Griggs still wasn’t comfortable leaving the unconscious Chapple. It took two seasoned officers more than ten minutes to corral the pit bulls (though a dog lover himself, Griggs couldn’t help but feel relieved when he learned they were later euthanized).

Medics cut away Chapple’s jacket to find his left hand attached by only a few threads of tissue. His right ear was partly torn from his head. His right eyelid was gashed, he had bite marks all over his legs and his right hand was badly mangled as well.

A few days later, Griggs visited Chapple in the hospital. “I called his name,” Griggs recalls. “His eyes popped open. I said, ‘Do you know who I am?’”

Chapple groggily replied, “I know that voice.”

“I’m the guy who fought the dogs off,” said Griggs.

“Man,” Chapple whispered, “you saved my life.”

Over the following weeks, Griggs became a regular visitor. In time, Chapple began talking about going home. “Well, you’ve got my number,” Griggs said, “so if you need anything, call me.”

Local publicity about the attack caught the attention of Tennessee State Senator Doug Jackson. For years, he had been trying to change an antiquated statute, a so-called one-bite law that had been on the books since 1903. It essentially said that the owner of a vicious dog cannot be held liable for damage or injury the first time the animal harms someone. Given that every year in Tennessee, some 7,000 people are bitten badly enough to require medical treatment, Jackson thought it was time to close that loophole. He asked Griggs and Chapple to testify in support of his proposed law.

Although he was too badly hurt to appear in person, a shaken Chapple agreed to make a video statement from his hospital room. It was just two weeks after the incident. He described the ordeal, the terror and helplessness he felt. The attack was so savage, his left arm had to be amputated below the elbow, and doctors weren’t sure if he would ever regain full use of his right arm. He made a compelling witness.

A few months later, on the day before his 34th birthday, Zohnn Griggs got sad news. Unable to rally from his wounds, the frail Chapple had died. But he lived long enough to learn that his testimony helped convince the legislature to pass Senator Jackson’s bill. Two weeks later, the governor signed it into law.