Rhetoric Matters, We Are Better Than This

A woman stood at a distance from Officer Beesley’s cruiser, crying. I walked out to her and hugged her as she wept on my shoulder. She had dated his best friend. The day it happened she knew one of them was dead. She had to wait for the announcement to find out which one.

A developmentally disabled child bounced around the memorial as I spoke to his mother. Suddenly I felt his hand slip into mine. We stood quietly and continued speaking.

An older man walked across the parking lot carrying bagpipes. When he finished playing he simply turned and walked away.

A former principal sat with me, telling stories and sharing videos. We laughed, we cried, we began the healing process.

A news station asked for an interview. I agreed to it only with the approval of the Foundation, Department and most importantly his family. I answered their questions in depth, then they followed me around as I interacted with people at the memorial. They threw out the interview and aired the interactions instead.

In stark contrast there were the officers.

An officer, his wife and son approached the memorial. As they neared, his wife and son broke down in tears. I expected them all to embrace, but his wife and son turned to each other and cried into each other’s arms as he stood silently next to them. The message was clear. It was their burden to carry forward should something horrible happen, not his.

Due to the circumstances surrounding this tragedy the decision was made to provide 24 hour security at the memorial. Officers from surrounding jurisdictions lined up to help. One day I was getting ready to get lunch and I asked the officer standing watch what I could get him. He repeatedly declined my offers. When I returned I asked again if he would like to share. He let me know his wife had brought him food while I was gone. It was not a slight to me, but he only trusted his food from someone closest to him. I get it.

When I arrived on Saturday there was a Boulder PD cruiser in the lot. My heart sank. It has only been 90 days since they went through this, too. I immediately recognized the officer standing watch from my duties at Officer Talley’s memorial.

Over the course of our conversation that day she commented on the thin blue line sticker on my truck and recommended I remove it for fear someone might attack me or vandalize my truck. She explained that she never tells anyone what she does for work out of fear of retribution.

She told me that recently she had taken her car in for an oil change and tire rotation. The woman behind the counter kept trying to get it out of her so she relented and confessed she was a cop.When her car was finished she was turning out of the dealership when her front wheel fell off, causing $10,000 in damage. Coincidence? Possible, but probably not.

And yet what kind of people are these?

When the services for Officer Beesley were over I wandered through the Arvada officers saying my goodbyes. The Deputy Chief stopped me and asked if he would see me again before I left. I let him know I was on my way back to the station for the interview. He gave me his card and said he had something for me. In the midst of his grief, he was still thinking of others. I was in the middle of the interview when he walked up with his wife and handed me something I will treasure and proudly display. Then we hugged. He doesn’t know this, but as much as I treasure the gift, the hug meant more.

We call these men and women when we are robbed, beaten, murdered or raped. We call them when someone is threatening with a knife, when someone has abducted our child, when bullets are flying. And they come no matter what the danger. What do we give them in return? When asked what they do, they reply they “work for the city”, or some other vague response. We give them fear of the food they eat, fear of the service they will get, fear of retribution to their families and friends. And that is only after the fear everyday that when they put on that uniform, kiss their family goodbye and walk out that door they may never return.

We owe them more than this. We cannot paint all officers with a brush because of the actions of a few no more than we can do that to a race or religion or sexual orientation. These men and women deserve our praise and gratitude. I turned to the Officer and told her the sticker would be staying on my truck. I told her if I took it off and let them silence me, they’d win. We owe our officers our support. Hell, I may even need to get a bigger sticker.