A friend of mine and former coworker recently passed away and for reasons beyond my control, it seems likely that I will not attending the memorial service tomorrow. His passing saddens me and the apparent inability to attend the service saddens me. What follows is a tribute to this man and the many others (living and dead) who stepped into the gap during a sweeping time of change and desperate need.
I began my law enforcement career in 1989 just as the tidal wave of crack cocaine broke over Tallahassee, Florida. Tallahassee had been the kind of place where people didn’t lock their homes or cars, where they didn’t mind walking at night and most were hard pressed to conjure up the name of a friend or relative who had been the victim of crime. All that changed when the wave broke on our fair shores. Crimes of all kinds surged. Robberies, burglaries, thefts, aggravated assault with firearms, you name it. People locked their doors. People knew people who were crime victims and the citizens wanted something done about it. The high crime areas of the city were simply blighted. On weekend nights several hundred people would be out on foot. Open air drug deals, fights and gunshots were quite normal. On busy weekend nights the number could soar to a thousand in these areas. Even police officers were cautious about going into these areas and rarely ventured there alone.
But we could not and would not cede the ground. There were people…human beings who lived in and around these areas who relied on us when no one else would help them. When no one else would come, we would…at 2am or 2pm, we would be there. Be it to CPR on a gunshot victim or to screw a light bulb on an old lady’s porch for her.
The stakes were high. Drug dealers used networks of lookouts, often were armed and carried large amounts of narcotics on their person back then. Tasers didn’t exist. Pepper gas didn’t even exist when I started. Our equipment was a revolver, nightstick, heavy flashlight and a lot of your friends in blue or green. Officer injuries were common and fortunately minor.
My friend who passed did start in the 80s but policed the streets while the open air markets and street crime was very high. Like so many, he did so with honor, integrity, bravery, in all kinds of weather, on holidays, at night and in situations that civilians simply cannot comprehend. Cities all over our country owe what they have today to people just like him. They don’t make movies about men like him, but they damn sure should.
We were the thin blue line.
The sun is going down over forgotten parts of the city. Parts of the city citizens have chosen longer routes to drive around now. But there are men and women who sought out these places, drove there and often times walked for hours.
We were the thin blue line.
There was blood on the sidewalk at 3am and an angry crowd has gathered. They hated the police but wanted the police to do something now. A grandmother sat quietly in the shadows on her front porch two houses away and prayed for the safety of her family and for peace to someday return to her little neighborhood.
We were the thin blue line.
Sodium vapor lights buzz as a pair of uniforms quietly made their way through the shadows. Their job was “blockers” when the calvary came. When that happened, you won’t just hear crickets, cicadas and the lights any longer. “50” or “99” rang out from lookouts and patrol cars roared in looking for the guy we had probable cause on. Foot pursuit. Fight. Others involved. Did it make a difference? Ask the grandmother.
We were the thin blue line.
Fear is real. Don’t let anyone tell you it isn’t. There were scary people, places and times. Four things held the line: faith, training, the sound of your dispatcher’s voice in the night and the knowledge your partner is coming.
We were the thin blue line.
We chased bad guys and tried like hell to help those in need before they were victimized…certainly after. But…that’s not all. We held dressings on gunshot wounds, did CPR, comforted car crash victims and held the hand of your dying relative when no one else was there.
We were the thin blue line.
We had roll call the next day, went lights and siren from roll call to an “officer down/needs assistance” radio call our heart in our mouth only thankfully to be cancelled. Then we responded to your neighbor’s vandalized mailbox.
We were the thin blue line.
We played pranks on each other, got on each other’s nerves, dated each other’s girlfriends and otherwise behaved like squabbling siblings in a big family. But…punch one of us and you punched the entire family.
We were the thin blue line.
May my friend rest in peace. May his family rest easy knowing that after a long battle, he is finally at peace. May they also rest easy knowing he was one of the finest members of the thin blue line that I have ever known and an all around good man.
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On Beyond Blue 