Just a story about a cop...

[24 on/ 48 off]

My bones ached. My head throbbed. My muscles were tight. I was tired, irritable and looking forward to 1900 hours. That is when my shift ended, and another squad of officers would take to the roads to serve and protect the people of the city. I glanced at my watch- 6:10 PM. 50 minutes to go. I am not going to do much other than be seen, an often overlooked important task of being a police officer.

The radio in my police car crackled. “Eight S ten, contact dispatch by phone.”

“Eight S ten, affirmative.” I replied into the microphone.

“OK, what’s going on?” I thought. Maybe an officer has called in sick and I will have to find a replacement. Perhaps a bomb threat- dispatch doesn’t like to send those out over the airwaves. Whatever it is, I am now hoping it doesn’t interfere with me getting off duty in 47 minutes.

I call dispatch on the phone. A cheerful dispatcher picks it up on the first ring.

“Dispatch non-emergency line,” she answers.

“Hey, it’s Sergeant [___] here, what’s up?”

Suddenly her voice lowers and seems a bit shaky.

“I hate to give this to you, but I have a death notification in your district.” She told me.

Death notifications are not something anybody enjoys. I don’t know why, but they always seem to happen in my district- and on my shift. I have done many, and though it is not an enjoyable task, I have learned from each experience and consider myself good at it.

“Alright,” I said, “Let’s have it.” I opened up my notebook.

The dispatcher then gave me the details. I nearly started to cry after the first two sentences.

The Grandparents of two small twin girls were taking them to their home in Central Oregon today. About half way there, a pickup truck for an unknown reason crossed the centerline of the highway, and struck the car containing the grandparents and twins head-on. The twin 2-year old girls were killed instantly, along with the Grandmother. The Grandfather somehow walked away from the terrible crash. He was being taken to a local hospital for observation.

My heart sank as the dispatcher requested that I notify the young mother of the deaths. This was one of the top five all-time worst assignments I have ever been given.

After getting as much information as I could from the dispatcher, I hung up and just sat there, contemplating this horrible deed I had to do. I buried my head in my hands and just rocked back and forth, imagining how difficult this was going to be for me to do. Even more tragic would be having to watch as a young mother catapults through an emotional nightmare in just the short time I would be there.

It was a good 20 minutes before I could collect my thoughts and make the short drive to the apartment complex where the mother lived. I even did something which most police officers couldn’t imagine. I took off my gun and put it in the trunk of my squad car. I wanted to appear less authoritative and more “human”. What made it even worse, is I knew this young lady from a few previous professional encounters.

I slowly climbed the steps to the second floor apartment’s door. I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. I then knocked on the door.

My hands got sweaty. I felt cold and weak. My heart raced for the few seconds until the door opened.

Standing before me was a young lady, about 24 years old. She was dressed in overalls and her hair was up. She looked at me with confusion.

“Hi,” she said, “Can I help you?”

I have often thought that females are much better at reading body language than males are. They can look through your eyes and into your thoughts with much greater ease than men. She was no exception. A look of terror broke out on her face.

“May I come in?” I asked. “I have to talk to you about something.”

We both sat down at her dining room table. I looked in the eyes and took a deep breath.

“Tanya, I have to tell you some terrible news…………….”

The next few minutes were filled with sobbing, shouts of “NO!” and a young mother’s realization that her babies and her mother would never be with her earth again. I held her hand, stroked her shoulder and attempted to remain stable and professional, yet human. I answered as many of her questions I could, and promised her to find out what I didn’t know. I made phone calls for her, because she was too distraught to do so. I called her boyfriend, her pastor and her ex sister-in-law.

Before long, I realized that it was well past 7:00 PM. I couldn’t leave. I just couldn’t. A human being was here in distress, and needed me. It suddenly didn’t matter that I was going to miss a movie that evening with my friends.

Soon afterward, friends of Tanya’s began to show up. I took aside a young man who told me he was her boyfriend. I explained to him everything I told Tanya. I gave him telephone numbers of people to call. I wrote down directions to get to the funeral home in Stayton, Oregon where her children and mother were. I even gave him my pager number, in case he had any more questions after I left.

It was 8:00 PM when I finally walked out of the police station and climbed into my truck- a spent man. My ride home was quiet. No customary country radio, no big hurry to check my e-mail. I just wanted time to reflect back upon the sanctity of life.

Being a cop isn’t about chasing stolen cars, gunfights or writing tickets. It’s about serving people in many different ways. It’s about understanding how people think and react during times of crisis and duress.

About a year later, I saw Tanya at a gas station. Tears welled up in her eyes as I said hello. Not sure of wanting to stir up bad memories, I excused myself and began to walk back to my car.

Wait, [____]!” I heard from behind me. Tanya walked up to me and managed a smile.

“I wanted to thank you.” She said.

“You had to do a terrible, awful job by coming to my home and giving me the bad news. You stayed there with me, and were there for me. I appreciated that, although I couldn’t understand that at the time. Your news took a piece of my life away from me, yet your caring spirit helped me on the road to recovery. I won’t forget how grateful I was to have it be you, who came to my door that night.”

With that came a hug and another small smile.

“Thanks, Tanya,” I said.

I then climbed back in my patrol car. Once again, I was glad to be doing what I do.

--spud--

[The Fishing Geek]

You like making me cry, don't you?

[Kruechief]

[img]graemlins/applause.gif[/img] [img]graemlins/applause.gif[/img] [img]graemlins/applause.gif[/img]

Thanks for reminding me that they don't just write tickets.

Krue

[skein]

Spud,

I don't have any words that can adequately honor your eloquence. I am an old EMT, so I know something about what you're saying, and I can't tell you the memories this brought back - some bad, but many many good.

I'm glad you're out there, and I salute you from the heart. [img]graemlins/hearton.gif[/img]

Skein

[24 on/ 48 off]

The reason I write these stories are simple:

People only get to know us when they call us. Usually, that person is under duress of some nature. TV glorifies the wild, crazy and often angering parts of our jobs. I try to write about the ones that speak a different tone- a human tone.

Thanks for the nice word, ifishers!

--spud-- :smile:

PS- I'm gonna hit you with one next month that you may want to show your high-school aged kids.

[Albacore Tuna Captain]

Spud, you made my day.

I retired from law enforcement in 1994. I worked for Marion County from 1971 to 1983. Your story brought back some of the incidents like that that have found their way to the backyard of my memory. When I retired, I felt I had given 21 years of my life with no respect from the community I served. I do remember now some of the fantastic events of my career that made all the suffering and heartaches all worthwhile. Thanks for jarring my memory. And never let em get you down, it's a tough job.......the good times make up for the bad.

[STGRule]

Once a month? Gawd, I'm going to have to take a trip to Costco for the case of tissues and stop and buy stock in Kleenex if The Geek is going to read them also.

By the way, did you all know that cops are ? I know. They are your Uncle, the neighbors up the street (had two while I was growing up), they are the kids you baby-sat when they were kids (and not at their best). They are friends that come and go through your lifetime. They are .

[fishin]

[crabbait]

Thanks, spud. [img]graemlins/applause.gif[/img]

[TheRogue]

Ouch...

My best friend is a detective, his wife is a lieutenant. I hear a lot the average person doesn't get to know, and quite frankly doesn't want to know. I've always said police officers are the most under-appreciated(followed by teachers) and second-guessed people on the planet.

Thanks for sharing.

TR

[Lucky Bamboo]

So often we all forget the human side of law enforcement......or, never really knew it in the first place. This was a wonderful story, except for the tragedy that made it come about. Thanks for reminding us, and giving us insight.

[Big Willie]

Wow. I have a couple friends that are Duputies in Washington and Clackamas counties, and one who is an officer for the city of Newberg. I don't thank them enough for the job they do...I know I couldn't do it.

Thanks for the post, and thank you for doing what you do.

Gary