7 April 30th - MAy 6th, 2026 phoenixnewtimes.com PHOENIX NEW TIMES | NEWS | FEATURE | FOOD & DRINK | ARTS & CULTURE | MUSIC | CONCERTS | CANNABIS | Soukup pointed to the Blue Envelope Program, which is geared towards law enforcement encounters with people with autism, as a possible model that departments and the deaf community can look to for solutions. “Having these types of tools to aid officers when they’re out on patrol, having that knowledge and the tools and the resources available for them so that when they do encounter someone who does not hear,” Soukup said, “then they are able to better serve.” The Arizona Peace Officer Standards and Training Board, which licenses all law enforcement officers in the state and determines the training curriculum for law enforcement agencies, offers an optional online video training that departments can provide to officers, said AZPOST Executive Director Chuck Miiller. (Miiller declined to comment on Garro’s case.) There are also outside consultants that departments can reach out to directly for additional training, but it’s up to the individual agency to seek it. Pinal County declined to say whether or not it provides this type of training to its deputies. Some relevant training is required. Two courses in the AZPOST basic training curriculum, which all recruits receive, touch on encounters with people who can’t hear, according to two lesson plans provided to New Times by Miiller. The first is a section of a Cultural Awareness and History of Law Enforcement class on “Common Community Concerns.” The second is a section in a course on Interpersonal Communication, which goes more in-depth and includes a bullet point about handcuffing someone who uses sign language. “You may have to handcuff someone who is deaf and communicates through sign language. Understand that this will be exceptionally traumatic,” the lesson plan reads. “If it is safe to do so, explain what is happening and how long they will be hand- cuffed. Then, try to remove them as soon as possible.” To the hospital, then home Garro doesn’t know how long he waited as he sat cuffed in the backseat of a patrol vehicle, with his hands behind his back. He said he was terrified the deputies would take him to jail. With his hands restricted, he had no way of communicating at all. He couldn’t write, he couldn’t text and, without an interpreter, no one would understand him even if he was free to sign. “I felt like I’m done for,” he recalled. “I don’t understand what’s happening.” An ambulance arrived. Medics used a phone to ask him if he was hurt, but Garro couldn’t respond. The officers uncuffed him. At first, he typed to the medics, then he Facetimed a friend who served as an interpreter for him. Ultimately, the depu- ties gave him the choice of going to the hospital or waiting in the ambulance for an interpreter. He chose the hospital. Being uncuffed and in the ambulance made him feel better, Garro said. He was taken to Banner Ironwood Medical Center, where medical staff examined him and bandaged his injuries. They communicated through a Video Remote Interpreting service. Garro was also finally able to text his girlfriend, Maryann Romano, who is also deaf. She had her daughter, who is hearing, call the hospital. The whole time he was at the hospital, Garro said, he wondered if his next stop was jail. But he never saw the deputies again. When he was discharged, he was free to go. He spent $19 on a ride to his car — in a Lyft, of course — which was still parked in the Big O Tires parking lot off the Hunt Highway. Then he drove all the way home to Sun City. Garro hasn’t driven for Lyft since that day. In fact, that final ride was never completed, so he never got paid for it. He gets social security, but it’s not enough, so he’s had to borrow money from his niece to get by. He’s also been in physical therapy for his injuries, though he didn’t go into detail about them. He also said he dreams about the encounter, which a therapist told him were symptoms of PTSD. “It’s like a scar on my brain now,” Garro said. One detail sticks with him, though: He remembers the deputy as having multiple pens in his pocket. “Like you can’t even write to me! You have literally more than enough pens in your pocket, but instead you just throw me on the ground instead of choosing to communicate with me?” he said. “It’s crazy.” Tom Garro. (Courtesy of Tom Garro) The injuries Tom Garro says he suffered after a run-in with Pinal County Sheriff’s deputies. (Tom Garro) Ride Gone Wrong from p 5
