When
God Made Peace Officers…
When the
Lord was creating peace officers, he was into his sixth day of overtime when an
angel appeared and said, “You’re doing a lot of fiddling around on this
one.”
And the
Lord said, “Have you read the spec on this order?
A peace officer has to be able to run five miles through alleys in the
dark, scale walls, enter homes the health inspector wouldn’t touch, and not
wrinkle his uniform.
“He
has to be able to sit in an undercover car all day on a stakeout, cover a
homicide scene that night, canvass the neighborhood for witnesses, and testify
in court the next day.
“He has
to be in top physical condition at all times, running on black coffee and
half-eaten meals. And he has to
have six pairs of hands.”
The angel
shook her head slowly and said, “Six pairs of hands… no way.”
“It’s
not the hands that are causing me problems,” said the Lord, “it’s the
three pairs of eyes an officer has to have.”
“That’s
on the standard model?” asked the angel.
The Lord
nodded. One pair that sees through
a bulge in a pocket before he asks, “May I see what’s in there, sir?”
(When he already knows and wishes he’d taken that accounting job.)
“Another pair here in the side of his head for his partners’ safety.
And another pair of eyes here in front that can look reassuringly at a
bleeding victim and say, ‘You’ll be all right ma’am, when he knows it
isn’t so.”
“Lord,”
said the angel, touching his sleeve, “rest and work on this tomorrow.”
“I
can’t,” said the Lord, “I already have a model that can talk a 250 pound
drunk into a patrol car without incident and feed a family of five on a civil
service paycheck.
The angel
circled the model of the peace officer very slowly, “Can it think?” she
asked.
“You
bet,” said the Lord. “It can
tell you the elements of a hundred crimes; recite Miranda warnings in its sleep;
detain, investigate, search, and arrest a gang member on the street in less time
than it takes five learned judges to debate the legality of the stop… and
still it keeps its sense of humor.
This
officer also has phenomenal personal control.
He can deal with crime scenes painted in hell, coax a confession from a
child abuser, comfort a murder victim’ family, and then read in the daily
paper how law enforcement isn’t sensitive to the rights of criminal
suspects.”
Finally,
the angel bent over and ran her finger across the cheek of the peace officer.
“There’s a leak,” she pronounced.
“I told you that you were trying to put too much into this model.”
“That’s
not a leak,” said the lord, “it’s a tear.”
“What’s
the tear for?” asked the angel.
“It’s
for bottled-up emotions, for fallen comrades, for commitment to that funny piece
of cloth called the American flag, for justice.”
“You’re
a genius,” said the angel.
The Lord
looked somber. “I didn’t put it
there…” he said.
To a Police
Chief, the perfect cop is someone
who looks sharp, works hard and doesn't expect overtime pay, makes good arrests
without offending anyone, writes detailed reports and keeps a neat, readable
activity log. He is also always available when extra help is needed, accepts
work assignments willingly and comes up with fast, favorable results. In short,
a perfect cop is someone who makes the Chief look good.
To a Prosecuting
Attorney, a perfect cop is a
meticulous investigator who gathers and documents evidence, obtains confessions
to all crimes and outlines each case in order to make the prosecutor's job easy.
He doesn't object when a case is plea bargained so the attorneys can go golfing
on Friday afternoon, and doesn't mind if an offender gets probation or a
suspended sentence because it is more convenient to make a deal than go to
trial.
To a Defense
Attorney, a perfect cop is a
bungling idiot who makes mistakes and someone the defense attorney can
manipulate and make angry in court, making the attorney look good in front of
his client. A perfect cop is someone who will agree to any and all plea
bargaining proposed, and whom the defense attorney can call when he needs
protection from his own client.
To the City
Council, a perfect cop is someone
who does his job well without making waves, who is grateful for a job that he
willingly works nights, weekends and holidays. He never asks for more than the
city is willing to pay, does an exemplary job without adequate equipment and
tools. Best of all, he never writes tickets on any council member or their kid.
To the People of
the Community, a perfect cop is
polite, a friendly person who walks the beat and checks out strange noises and
watches for strange people. He teaches kids right from wrong, talks to them
about the evils of drug use-but doesn't mention Mom and Dad using alcohol. He
will arrest drug dealers, but overlooks kids with a "little" pot.
To his Wife,
a perfect cop never lets his job effect his emotions. He can spend hours dealing
with drunks, domestics, drug users, injured or dead people, and then come home
and be a loving, well-adjusted husband and father.
I have been a cop
for over 20 years, and have never met a perfect cop. Only a few have even come
close, being totally honest and truly caring about people and doing the best job
they can.
But all the cops I
have ever known are human. They love, laugh, cry, hurt, and sometimes die too
young. They try to make it to retirement, although many do not. Divorce is
common. Some become alcoholics and some suffer from "police stress",
seen in a variety of emotional disorders or heart attacks. Our job is often
described as 98% boredom and 2% sheer terror.
Why do we do it? We
don't really know. I hope it's because we simply care about right and wrong.
~
Author Unknown ~
Lord
please bless this food before me,
Shimmering in speckled grease,
To be washed down with scalding coffee;
That's powerful, to say the least.
My
doctor said don't eat it,
Because it's bad for my stomach and heart,
But the health food places all close before
The grueling night watch starts.
He
says I'll shorten my life span,
That I won't get my three score and ten,
And it's true cops average just fifty-eight years,
To get all their living in.
But
the job I do is important,
Standing between the savage and the weak,
Though I often wonder where we warriors will go
When you give the earth to the meek.
I
love healthy food same as any
With loved ones at a real table,
But usually--what with my extra jobs--
I just really am not able.
So
Lord, bless this food before me;
I'm thankful for what I've got,
And if it's not too much trouble, God,
Just once I'd like to eat it hot.
David
Hunter
Author and former police officer
As shown in The Cop Cookbook by Greta Garner-Hewitt, Ken Beck, and Jim Clark
© 1997 by David Hunter
"A Cop on the Take"
by
Wayne
A.
Linney
