On Monday, my partner and I picked up a psychiatric patient for transfer from a major hospital ER to a psychiatric facility.
Turns out that Major Hospital ER didn't do such a hot job searching Patient's belongings, 'cause when Patient asked if we could get his (sealed, no worries) Gatorade out of his backpack for him, we all discovered he was in possession of a steak knife. Fortunately, he was a cooperative guy, and told us we should take it and not leave it with him.
(This was during the hour we spent in a locked 5x8" foyer waiting for someone to take Patient for admittance to the facility, because facility in question is badly understaffed and was in the middle of a crisis.)
Thanks, Major Hospital ER. That could've gotten ugly. Fortunately it did not, and my partner and I got a reassuring rundown from the supervisor at the end of shift on what to do about contraband like that (or lighters, or matches, or drugs, or whatever else the patient has in their belongings), and then the supervisor made sure we got ice cream for EMS week.