"You're Not A Cop Until You Taste Them"

[markus]

The department was all astir, there was a lot of laughing and joking due

to all the new officers, myself included, hitting the streets today for the

first time.  After months of seemingly endless amounts of classes,

paperwork, and lectures we were finally done with the Police Academy and

ready to join the ranks of our department.



All you could see were rows of cadets with huge smiles and polished

badges.  As we sat in the briefing room, we could barely sit still anxiously

awaiting our turn to be introduced and given our beat assignment or, for the

lay person, our own portion of the city to "serve and protect."



It was then that he walked in.  A statue of a man - 6 foot 3 and 230 pounds

of solid muscle, he had black hair with highlights of gray and steely eyes

that make you feel nervous even when he wasn't looking at you.  He had a

reputation for being the biggest and the smartest officer to ever work our

fair city.  He had been on the department for longer than anyone could
remember and

those years of service had made him into somewhat of a legend.



The new guys, or "rookies" as he called us, both respected and feared him.

When he spoke even, the most seasoned officers paid attention.  It was

almost a privilege when one the rookies got to be around when he would tell

one of his police stories about the old days.  But we knew our place and
never

interrupted for fear of being shooed away.  He was respected and revered by

all who knew him.



After my first year on the department I still had never heard or saw him

speak to any of the rookies for any length of time.  When he did speak to

them all he would say was, "So, you want to be a policeman do you hero?

I'll tell you what, when you can tell me what they taste like, then you can
call

yourself a real policeman."



This particular phrase I had heard dozens of times.  Me and my buddies all

had bets about "what they taste like" actually referred to.  Some believed

it referred to the taste of your own blood after a hard fight.  Others
thought

it referred to the taste of sweat after a long day's work.



Being on the department for a year, I thought I knew just about everyone and

everything.  So one afternoon, I mustered up the courage and walked up to

him.  When he looked down at me, I said "You know, I think I've paid my
dues.

I've been in plenty of fights, made dozens of arrests, and sweated my butt
off just

like everyone else.  So what does that little saying of yours mean anyway?"

With that, he merely stated, "Well, seeing as how you've said and done it
all,

you tell me what it means, hero." When I had no answer, he shook his head

and snickered, "rookies," and walked away.



The next evening was to be the worst one to date.  The night started out

slow, but as the evening wore on, the calls became more frequent and

dangerous.  I made several small arrests and then had a real knock down drag
out fight.

However, I was able to make the arrest without hurting the suspect or

myself. After that, I was looking forward to just letting the shift wind

down and getting home.


I had just glanced at my watch and it was 23:55,  five more minutes and I

would be on my way to the station.  I don't know if it was fatigue or just
my

imagination, but as I drove down one of the streets on my beat, I thought

I saw my daughter standing on someone else's porch.  I looked again but it

was not my daughter as I had first thought but merely a small child about

her age.  She was probably only six or seven years old and dressed in an

oversized shirt that hung to her feet.  She was clutching an old rag doll in

her arms that looked older than me.



I immediately stopped my patrol car to see what she was doing outside her

house at such an hour by herself.  When I approached, there seemed to be a

sigh of relief on her face.  I had to laugh to myself, thinking she sees

the hero policeman come to save the day.  I knelt at her side and asked what

she was doing outside.



She said "My mommy and daddy just had a really big fight and now mommy

won't wake up." My mind was reeling.  Now what do I do?  I instantly called

for backup and ran to the nearest window.  As I looked inside I saw a man

standing over a lady with his hands covered in blood, her blood.  I kicked

open the door, pushed the man aside and checked for a pulse, but unable to
find

one.  I immediately cuffed the man and began doing CPR on the lady.



It was then I heard a small voice from behind me, "Mr.  Policeman, please

make my mommy wake up." I continued to perform CPR until my backup and

medics arrived but they said it was too late.  She was dead.



I then looked at the man.  He said, "I don't know what happened.  She was

yelling at me to stop drinking and go get a job and I had just had enough.

I just shoved her so she would leave me alone and she fell and hit her

head."



As I walked the man out to the car in handcuffs, I again saw that little

girl.  In the five minutes that has passed, I went from hero to monster.

Not only was I unable to wake up her mommy, but now I was taking daddy away

too.  Before I left the scene, I thought I would talk to the little girl.
To say

what, I don't know.  Maybe just to tell her I was sorry about her mommy and

daddy.  But as I approached, she turned away and I knew it was useless and

I would probably make it worse.



As I sat in the locker room at the station, I kept replaying the whole

thing in my mind.  Maybe if I would have been faster or done something

different, just maybe that little girl would still have her mother.  And
even though

it may sound selfish, I would still be the hero.



It was then that I felt a large hand on my shoulder.  I heard that all too

familiar question again, "Well, hero, what do they taste like?"

But before I could get mad or shout some sarcastic remark, I realized that

all the pent up emotions had flooded the surface and there was a steady

stream of tears cascading down my face.  It was at that moment that I

realized what the answer to his question was.  Tears.



With that, he began to walk away, but he stopped.  "You know, there was

nothing you could have done differently," he said.  "Sometimes you can do

everything right and still the outcome is the same.  You may not be the

hero you once thought you were, but now you ARE a police officer.





I always remember this one,  since something like this happened to me when I was a lawman

[Amaya]

Your story made me cry. I haven't been in that dramatic of a situation but I can relate a little. There are times when I have failed people that trusted me and felt just as miserable. You're not alone. I wish I had the words to console you but I'd probably end up rambling and make it worse and I wish I could give you a hug....

[Vince_03]

you can't save everyone. remember that. also, you want to make things right? too bad. nothing's ever right...

[Rainbow]

It's hard to be the hero. I have a very similar experience, but a little more hurtfull. Iam no cop, but I was a best friend who was to late.
In March 8, 2003 one of my dearest friend killed himself. He took all his sleeping pills of that month, just because he wanted to sleep and never woke up.

I got to his house around 8:30 PM like every saturday, to play some poker. But when I got there he was in his bed, pale like a dead man, and not moving. I got scared, so I strated asking him what he have done, when he opens his hand and show me the bottle of pills.

I really didn't know what to do. I was only 13 years old, no license, no car. And it wasn't going to help me running away in my skateboard to get some help. Thanks G-d for cellphone. I call the ambulance as soon as I saw the bottle. they said "We are on our way". I started singing his favorite song, just to see him smile, until the paramedics got to the house. At the end of the song a sealed with a gentle soft kiss. I looked at his green eyes and told him everything was going to be alright.

But who was I kidding, just then he stop breathing, paramedics coming through the door. They did CPR, because he still got a pulse, a very weak one, but it was still there. After a couple of minutes, they told me exactly what they told you, it's to late.

For a while I felt the worse best friend in the world, just cuz I didn't save him. But the same day he died 3 years later, his mom called, just to tell me she found a letter for me in his things. It was his suicide note, it was the most beautiful thing he ever wrote. And that day I realized that I did what I was there for, he wanted to die, but he wanted to die with me by his side, remenbering him the only good things he had in his life.

And that's the only thing I think of every March 8, at least I did my best to save him, I couldn't, but he left with a smile on his face just because I was there.

It's sad, but is like Vince say, "you can't save evreryone" and "nothing's ever right"
So hey, think that the little girl have a much better life now that the one she was going to have with parents like that.

[bridigid]

I think parents have that same phrase as well...

The job(yes a job) of raising and loving your children
can make you
feel like a superhero or master villain,
within the blink of an eye.

Kudos to you.
(I had chills reading this)

Bridigid

[Rainbow]

I think parents have that same phrase as well...

The job(yes a job) of raising and loving your children
can make you
feel like a superhero or master villain,
within the blink of an eye.

Kudos to you.
(I had chills reading this)

Bridigid

You are totally right, they have to be very carefull, because if they do something wrong we hate them for eternity. My mom always said to me that the love of parents to children is ungrateful. That a child will never love their parents as they love him. And when they have children they going to give that love to their children, the immense love with which our parents love us, is never reciprocal, we understand it when we become parents, but never give it to our parents.

[SidneyFatty]

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