A little story

Okay, I've changed my mind. Sorry Dominique but I think I should get a break and not have to list more than 7 things a week. [ check my Tuesday blog] but to make up for it let me tell you a story of something that happened to me while I was a cop.

I was a rookie [any cop with five and less years on the job is a rookie in my book] when I was assigned to go to an elementary school. I met with the principal and he introduced me to a sliver of a 5th grader who was brought to the office by her teacher.

I remember she reminded me of a "whipped" dog that cowered in the corner of the kennel after being rescued by a cruel owner. The principal pointed out the marks on her legs. The red welts wrapping around the calves of her legs indicated they were put there by a belt. The principal told me she had two younger sisters and suggested I speak to them also. I ended up examining and documenting belt marks across all three sisters. The eldest explained her father would drink too much and get angry at them. Their mother was too scared to protect them.

I asked for a civilian police employee to transport the sisters to the department while I went to the house to look for the suspect and evidence. The mother explained the father was at work and then led me to the closet door where he kept the two inch wide leather belt hung specifically to beat the girls. I told her I was taking the girls and I would be back to speak to him. When I saw a flicker of relief and then a bit of panic cross her face I told her to call the police immediately if he tried to hurt her which she assured me he had not done in recent past.

Back at the department, the girls sat quietly in the Report Writing Room. They almost never looked up even though the cops coming in automatically knew why the girls would be there and tried to be friendly or goofy to coax a smile. Sodas and snacks were bought for them to munch on while waiting for Child Protective Services to locate a foster home. They called and said the girls could not be placed in a single home together for tonight but they would continue to look for a place that could do so. I chatted with them as they sat in the car for the ride trying to explain what was happening. The three sets of dark eyes just looked at me and when I finally dropped them off, I went back to the station wondering if they would understand I was trying to do something good for them.

I never went to court. CPS told me later the father fled back to Mexico to escape prosecution and the girls returned to the mother. I went back to the home but I later learned they had moved because without the father's income they could not longer live in the house. I wondered if they resented me for forcing their father to flee and subsequently force them to leave their home.

About ten years later, I was a Sergeant and a little fatter and sassier than my rookie photo because of all the paperwork I had to deal with as a patrol supervisor. I met another employee for lunch at a restaurant in town while on duty one day. We walked up to the host and the lovely young lady looked at me and asked, "Are you.... officer 'Toh-geema(sic)'?"

You see, when I had come to move into a house located within the city I work for, I learned I always ran the chance of people recognizing me for the wrong reason. I would be at the checkout line in the middle of the busy shift of a grocery store in my shorts and t-shirt, no make-up just from the gym sweaty and stinky and inevitably, some one said, "HEY! You're the cop who gave the the ticket, arrested my brother, towed my car...." you name it, they made sure I and everyone within ear shot knew that this stinky, sweaty, holey t-shirt and flip flop wearing woman was a cop. I would slink out of there with my bread and Diet Dr. Pepper hoping no one would see me jump in my car and try to memorize what it looked like so they could vandalize it when I parked it somewhere else.

So back to the host. Even my friend was looking at me and back to the host wondering if she should just go to the table and wait in case someone wanted to tell me how what I had done out of duty ruined (their, their mother's , friend's cousin's ) life.

Suddenly with the menus whizzing by my head the hostess flung her arms around me in a hug and she said, "It is you!" She proceeded to tell me she was the oldest sister of the three girls I took away from the elementary school years ago. Things were hard but so much better since their dad left out of fear of being arrested. She told me she was doing well as well as her sisters and described how they had boyfriends and doing all the normals things teenagers do.

Moments like these are very rare. Most people never get to see if what they did with good intentions ever sets things in motion for the better. I was blessed with this event but there are thousands of actions and inactions ( not giving a ticket or arresting someone, buying a homeless guy a meal) that I will never know if it made a difference. So I guess what I'm trying to say is, don't do things because of what you might get out of it, just do it because it's the right thing to do. Even something as small as picking up litter in the neighborhood can make a difference. Wouldn't it be so much better if EVERYONE tried to do something nice for someone else everyday? HUGS to you all.