Hide and Seek or What?

For households with children, you know how it goes…you don’t realize how much the kids are picking up on what you’re saying – especially since they don’t appear to be paying attention – until they place a well-timed f-bomb at the dinner table, or worse, at church.  Police officer’s kids are no different.

In our city, we had a very high profile missing child.  Our officers looked for her for days. They scoured the entire city, went door-to-door and looked under and behind literally everything.  Our officers weren’t going to stop until they found her.  After several days and behind-the-scenes police work, the focus changed.  Our officers had reason to believe that her mother had killed her, loaded her into a suitcase into the trunk of a car, drove her across town and left her in an apartment complex dumpster.  The search of our city would turn into the search of a garbage dump nearly an hour outside of town.

Our officers suited up in haz-mat suits, masks and duct tape.  They stood shoulder to shoulder with small rakes and scoured the landfill for this beautiful child’s body.  It was back-breaking and emotionally exhausting work.  What if they found her?  But worse – what if they didn’t?

Our officers would come home at night smelling like old disgusting garbage.  The sour smell of rot permeated literally everything.  The only thing worse than the smell was the exhaustion they dragged home with every day.  Every day ended with a defeated “we didn’t find her today”.

As wives and moms, our hearts hurt thinking of our officers out there digging for a child…all the while, wondering what kind of animal could do that to her baby.  We talked about it.  A lot.

One weekend, our local department’s spouse group was holding a fundraiser/garage sale.  Moms had brought their kids while they worked the sale.  It was being held in a large back yard, so the kids were allowed to run around and play.  We were watching them, but not really paying attention to what they were saying.  It appeared they were playing a fun game of hide-and-seek.

One of the moms called out to her daughter to ask what they were playing.  The sweet little cherub yelled back, “Dump!”  What?  They knew their daddies were looking in the dump for a little girl – so they would do the same.  I just don’t think they realized the rest of the story.  

The Thin Blue Line

The thin blue line is described as a symbol that represents our law enforcement that stand between good and evil.  It is the line of integrity that officers keep that separates them from the masses.  They are held to a much higher standard than most.

As police families, it’s a beacon.  It’s how we can identify each other as ‘safe’.  Like a hidden language that we can understand.  It feels like home.

In the last couple of years, and the onslaught of ugliness on social media – many people seem to think that the thin blue line is one of corruption and a secret boys club.  That somehow this line is something to be abused and to hide behind.  Nothing could be further from the truth.

Because our officers are held to such an incredibly high standard by society, they also feel it necessary to hold themselves to a high standard.  Without their integrity, they are nothing.  It can remove their ability to testify in court or save people from devastating situations.

Officers will definitely have each other’s backs.  They are a team that fights together.  They have to have that camaraderie or they can’t feel safe in battle.  But when that battle turns into a question of integrity, that thin blue line will turn its back on the offending officer quicker than you can imagine.  It’s like throwing a rock into an open sewer – nobody is going to stand close enough to get splashed.  Nobody is willing to scar their own integrity over the loss of another officer’s integrity. 

The other things that officers will typically do is investigate.  They work on facts and evidence, not emotion.  They will wait to see what really happened, not someone’s tilted version of the facts.  They log off of social media and wait for the findings, not subscribe to the hysteria of each side shouting their own brand of hatred.

Society will scream that ‘blue’ shouldn’t investigate ‘blue’. I can tell you that they will be harder than most on their own.  Again, their integrity can’t ever be called into question.  And many departments are turning their bigger officer-involved investigations over to other departments so they can get a fresh set of eyes on the situation.

Do they ever get it wrong?  Sure.  They’re human.  Officers do things wrong.  Their investigations sometimes don’t net what we thought they would.  And sometimes punishments are too harsh.  Or not harsh enough.  And sometimes they never fully get recovered from.  It’s the nature of the beast of humanity.  But the worst possible scenario is when the department has what they need from the investigation, yet cave under the pressure of society.  That’s when real crime has occurred – the murder of a good man’s career and the death of his integrity.

I'm Gonna Love You

The song lyrics say “I’m gonna love you like I’m gonna lose you”.  I’m not sure what the songwriter was referring to, but it feels like an anthem to me as a police wife.  The first time I heard the song, it hit me.  Now I can’t listen to it without choking back the tears or the lump in my throat.

Things that used to feel like a big deal – not getting enough attention, him forgetting to stop by the store or dressing the kids in the wrong thing – now look as petty as they actually are. Anger feels like a luxury that I won’t afford myself.  I couldn’t live with myself if I sent him off to work angry about an unmade bed or something equally as trivial and have something happen to him.  

More times than I can count, a “regular boring day” ended in a hair-raising tale of things that turned quickly.  Sometimes right after the text of brief phone call about the boring day.

Dirty clothes?  Abandoned boots?  Dishes left in the sink?  Yep – all of it.  Annoying.  Just not worth mentioning. God forbid something should take him from me – the last memory won’t be of me nagging.  It will be of one more kiss.  An extra “I love you”.  And that goofy little thing we do with our hands that’s part I love you, part blown kiss.  

The Shot Heard 'Round the World

August 9, 2014 was the day the shot was heard ‘round the world – at least the millennial version.  Ferguson, Missouri was now on the map and everyone suddenly knew the names Michael Brown and Darren Wilson.  Before that day, those three things were only known to those who lived there and those who knew these two men.

Having never met these two men, and having never visited Ferguson – I can’t say much about what any of it is like.  What I do know is that those two men lost their lives that day.  Michael Brown was killed in the street. Darren Wilson was killed in the media.  They were both buried in that town.

That was the day that it became fashionable to hate police officers.  Now everyone was free to throw hate from every direction. And even after the multiple autopsies, recorded testimonies, surveillance tapes and federal investigations – hating on cops was en vogue.

News media never misses an opportunity to highlight an officer caught being human.  And the keyboard warriors on social media troll every support site for law enforcement citing the same twisted statistics and calling the supporters ‘boot lickers’. 

Call me whatever you want.  It doesn’t change my view of my officer husband.  Is he perfect?  Far from it.  Is his department perfect?  Of course not.  Are there cops there that shouldn’t be?  Probably. 

Our society has warned us not to stereotype.  Not to dislike a person because of their color, language or neighborhood.  We’re supposed to be nice.  We’re not supposed to make assumptions about people we meet – or people we may avoid.  But when it comes to police officers, the same people demanding those things will fight to the death to prove that they’re right and cops are bad.  Some take to their keyboards and call officers and their supporters names.  Some take to their video record button on their cell phones and taunt officers.  Some actually die in the street demanding to be right – then are celebrated as martyrs for the cause. 

There are two words than can solve a whole bunch – PERSONAL ACCOUNTABILITY.  Get some.  And if you have it, use it.  It doesn’t matter if you’re an officer or not.  It doesn’t matter if you’re a speeder, pot smoker or heroin dealer – find some personal accountability and use it.  You’ll be amazed at the outcomes.