This is a follow up post from my Ferguson Riots, As seen from a different point of view post. 

A week has passed since the death of M. Brown.  Although new information continues to come to light, there are still many unanswered questions.  We now know the name of the officer who shot the deceased. We have now seen video surveillance tape of the deceased participating in a strong armed robbery just prior to his death. We have an admission from his friend who was with him that they indeed participated in the strong armed robbery just prior to his death.  We also have the words of the Ferguson Chief of Police that the strong armed robbery was unrelated to the death of M. Brown.  We have numerous accounts from eye witnesses and hearsay accounts from those close to the officer.  We have a sketchy recording of an unidentified bystander who witnessed the shooting which seems to corroborate the hearsay testimony of those close to the officer.  What we still do not have are any conclusive investigative results which corroborates either side's version, and therefore, despite any of our rushes to judgment, in reality, we are all as we began....waiting.  That being said, just as in my first post, I will not be commenting on the guilt or innocent theories in my own head, and will be addressing matters which have caused my head to spin in the past week.

In my first article on the Ferguson riots I made it clear I was posting from the view of being a white woman who is married to a black police officer. I also stated that our children are bi-racial.  I am writing this article based on the same perspective, as it is the only perspective I can have. It is who I am, and it is who we are as a family.

I have read countless postings and watched countless news stories and press releases over the past week.  One theme seems to resonate - sensationalized bandwagon jumping.  The media is guilty of it. Citizens are guilty of it. Politicians are guilty of it and organized groups are guilty of it.  I've done my best to not jump the same bias bandwagon of my choice and I will be the first to own, it's difficult for me.  My husband is an officer and I do not like what I am seeing aimed at law enforcement as a WHOLE, rather than at the individual officer involved. Likewise I am having a difficult time reconciling how those who are demanding justice have already condemned this officer before the facts are conclusive, when they are taking such a devout view that is was prejudgment that led to the death of M. Brown.

In my previous post I stated that racism is alive and real in this country, and it most certainly is.  Being a white woman married to black police officer with mixed race children, one of who has special needs, and living in the bible belt of America in a relatively affluent suburb, I can assure you I have experienced racism on many occasions and on many levels.

I have been approached by white women at Wal-mart who have thanked me for adopting my "poor little black boy".  I have been approached by black women who have given their snide comments that I "took another black man off the market".  I have been told countless times by white people "Oh, I saw your husband on his police motorcycle yesterday", and I have witnessed my husband experience racism on more levels that I could put into words.   I have had people in the waiting area of hospitals and doctor's offices ask me if I am a caretaker for the special needs child with me..."you know, like foster care?", and I have been told that mixing the races "gave that boy the autism".

First of all.... I never knew the adoption agency had access to my uterus and should they have asked to deliver the little black boy via my birth canal I would have taken issue with that.  I "got" that little black boy the old fashioned way, thanks very much.   Secondly, although he was extremely attractive, I did not tote my Glock into the police department, place it to my husband's head and force him "off the market" and into a relationship with me, nor did I force him to procreate with me, nor am I responsible for why he's never dated or married a black woman, he seems to have a mind of his own and is in fact, a grown ass man.  You will have to take up that question with him.  I'm sure glad he chose me.  Thirdly, you have never seen my husband on a police motors unit... he is not a motors unit officer and never has been.  There IS however, a black officer in our city (one of only four out of over 100 officers) that is a motors cop.... so you actually saw a black officer on a police motorcycle... I know... easy mistake... especially in this town where there's only four black officers who look exactly alike (sarcasm intended).  And as far as "mixing the races" being a cause of autism.... how about dysphagia? and seizure disorders? Our son has that as well, so I just need to know if I should check into that.... and could you explain all the white and asian and latino and "legit all black" kids with autism?  How did that happen to them?   Oh... and when you get pulled over by a black cop and you happen to be white, using the whole "he hates white people" really comes off as ignorant when the screen saver in his patrol unit includes the photo of his white wife and bi-racial children. But you didn't ever consider that, did you?   And when you take your ass up to the high school where my husband has arrested your black child and before you've ever laid eyes on my husband have spouted off with your loud mouth to school administration that the "pig" is picking on another young black male....you might want to actually SEE the school resource officer before stating such ignorance.... I know, easy mistake to make in a yuppy town with only four black cops on the payroll, but turns out not everything is about your kid being black, sometimes it's just about his illegal drug use and theft.

Yes..... I KNOW RACISM.  I know it well.  As a mother to a child who no one would identify as "mixed" without seeing me with him, I too know about the fears of my child being profiled by the police.  I have no doubt that if my child were a teenager, wearing a hoodie, walking the sidewalk, with a group of black teens, in our yuppy suburb, chances are someone would wonder what the hell those boys were up to.  And yes... I have no doubt whatsoever that it would only take one jackass whitey to call in the police saying a "gang" of blacks were doing all kinds of "things" out in the "streets".  That's a very real possibility for my son and I have genuine concerns about it.   HOWEVER..... (there's the but)  here's what I don't understand....

How in the world are those members of the black community who are perpetrating violence and mayhem against innocents and law enforcement in general helping??  How can anyone justify chanting death threats to the officer when they themselves are in an upheaval over the death of another young black man? How can anyone jump to the conclusion that this officer just decided to take out a man in the middle of the street, in front of multiple witnesses, in broad daylight, for absolutely no reason whatsoever.  How can anyone assume he has absolutely no humanity whatsoever?  How can anyone NOT even remotely ponder that he may have feared for his own life?  Not saying shooting M. Brown was justified, not saying there weren't other options....because we do not know yet.... but how can we justify the assumption that this officer after a life with no police record, while working in law enforcement, while having a known history of being a well liked, fair, just and honorable officer, just decided that day was the day to become a cold, calculated murderer??

It is those same people who are horrified that M. Brown was gunned down for simply being black, walking down the street.  We are to ignore it because he has no lengthy criminal history. We are to ignore the strong armed robbery committed just moments before his death. We are to ignore everything but his graduation photo and those with his family...... but can ANY SINGLE one of those wishing this officer dead say they would ignore the officer having multiple complaints of officer brutality?  Would they ignore if he had been placed on administrative leave in the past for an altercation with a black male....or even a white male for that matter.... after all, if we're all honest wouldn't we say without a doubt if this officer had beaten the shit out of others in the past that there would be signs and chants "HOW MANY??  WHEN IS ENOUGH??"   If we all own our own truth, we know better.  Should this officer had any past infractions in law enforcement those with hatred for him would be using it for all they could....... just as so many are using M. Brown's history as proof of his character.   It is human nature..... and so is denial of same.

I honestly believe there are a vast amount of members of all races, who are genuinely concerned with true justice for M. Brown.  They want the truth.  The whole truth.  And I truly believe once the facts are all known, that those sensible members of the melting pots of America will accept what is revealed and the justice which will be served.  If this officer was unjust in the shooting, I believe those with sense and sensibility will wholeheartedly agree he should be served justice accordingly. I also believe that there is a pocket of America who is not interested in any truth, regardless of what shall be, but simply their own agenda. 

To those who refuse to acknowledge truth, they will never acknowledge the facts which are the latest full year FBI Statistic compilation.  2,648 black Americans were murdered in the 2012 calendar year and of the 2,648 black murder victims, 2,412 were murdered by a member of their OWN RACE.   That leaves 193 murders of the 2,684 being carried out by a white person.  Additionally, in 2012, almost 500 more whites were killed than blacks.  Somehow, despite the facts, they will only see that white pigs are out to murder every black boy they see.... and no change can ever come from that.

Those who are promoting and inciting violence upon their fellow man, law enforcement in general, their communities and specifically chanting for the death of the officer, have done nothing but discredit themselves.  There is no worth in savagery. There is no justifying the destruction and mayhem.  Regardless of your plight, it will not work.

At the end of the day I can only speak my own truth.  I am a white woman, married to a black officer and today I fear for his safety from the black community, more so than from the skinheads and sovereign citizens who preach their hatred for not only blacks, but also the police.   My husband is an eighteen year veteran patrol officer.  He is a suicide prevention officer, a hostage negotiator, a crisis intervention officer, he leaves the streets nine months a year to work in the high schools. He makes it his mission to mentor young black men on the importance of making their own honest way in life, a life in which many cases is faced with racism.  He tells them his story of growing up in the same hood they did, with the same circumstances.  He tells them his truth of being one of only four black officers on a force of over a hundred...as in, it's not necessarily going to get easy for you.  He also teaches them that despite being a black man in today's society, there is no excuse for taking the wrong path. YOU and YOU alone are accountable for your actions.  You can only use your neighborhood as an excuse for so long. At some point you must own yourself.  And he teaches another truth..... racism will always be a part of your life.  As a black man you most likely will always be looked upon by many as less.  You may very well be profiled.  You may very well be judged by the color of your skin, but there is no one more powerful than YOU ALONE to change that and you and you alone dictate how much power you allow racism over your life.

Despite being an officer who has done nothing but honor his badge and dedicated his life to truly desiring to make a difference to his community, he is still judged..... I'm not sure which upsets me more?  That he is judged for being black or that he is judged and convicted simply because of the brass on his chest.  Perhaps I'm just tired of him being judged at all, as for police officers being judged goes way past the color of their skin. There is no other occupation which is systematically grouped and judged as a whole.  We never look to hold only those who are corrupt accountable....it's always "ALL" cops. My husband isn't ALL cops.  No officer is ALL cops.  And very few officers and families of officers have any sympathy for a bad cop.  There's not a corrupt cop out there that I can trust to take a bullet for my husband... and there's no doubt my husband would take a bullet for any of his brothers or sisters in blue.... as well as any stranger.  To anyone who tries to lessen my husband's character simply because of the badge he wears, your input is worthless.  I know very well who that man is, and he doesn't deserve to be gunned down simply for "signing" up to be hated.  "The only good cop is a dead cop".... that speaks volumes about our society.  If my husband encounters those willing to slaughter him in order to avoid arrest or simply because of their hatred, I pray to God he doesn't reach for a taser, or aim for a leg.  He's my world, and my children's world and if you expect me to hope "slowing down" a threat to his life is enough, then you've never spent a day in our shoes.

Despite the racism my husband encounters from his own race, and others, he refuses to compromise his character. He lives life with dignity in the face of adversity.  He refuses to stoop the the level of those who judge him.  If he encounters unfairness, he handles himself with dignity and abides by the laws he did not make, but agrees to follow as an American citizen.  If he is wronged, he goes about righting it legally, ethically, and morally..... he stands by his own truth and refuses to engage in anything which could reduce his character.  Despite the racism I encounter I choose to do the same and I choose to raise my young black son in the same manner.  Do I fear for him.... in some senses, yes. I do.  But I also know that the foundation I lay for him will help him remember to stand upon his own character, regardless of the lack of character of others.

In the past week I have seen such a growing misplaced hatred which is pointless with no hope for a change effecting outcome.  It is truly sad that this is the world we are leaving for our children.   There's not a single one of us who can honestly say we can't do better..... but there are so many who are completely unwilling to stop themselves and just do better.   Own your truth....act accordingly.  "Be the change you want to see in the world"..... it's not just a cliche quote we all read on the internet.  It holds worth.

Melissa Littles,
Founder, The Police Wife Life

My perspective on the Ferguson riots.
(This post was created before the release of the name of the officer involved and prior to the release of the video surveillance footage being released)

I’ve sat in silence, watching, listening; taking it all in. I’ve contemplated whether to speak on it or not. A news conference today sealed the deal.

Let’s start with the most pertinent fact of all….. Not one of us have all the facts at this point. Not the police. Not the family of the deceased. Not a single citizen - and certainly not anyone in Washington DC. There is absolutely no disputing that only two people are knowledgeable enough to form a concrete conclusion at this point regarding the circumstances which led up to the discharge of the officer’s weapon. One is the officer. One is the deceased.

The community is crying out for justice based solely on the “facts” that a white officer (whose identity has not been released) shot and killed an “unarmed black teen”. My first thought was - I sure hope he’s actually a white cop because if he turns out to be a light skinned Latino or Jewish or a mixed blend of Asian and Irish, this white vs. black rhetoric will sure need some tweaking. But I’m sure Al is all over the variables at this point. Secondly…. this was no “teen”. How many have EVER referred to our “teen soldiers”? They are very often times actually in their teenage years when sent abroad and we are sure to address them as “Young men”, “Brave men and women of the armed forces”, however…. put a black man of the same young age in a predicament which turns bad and he is suddenly a “teen”, “another young black youth gunned down”. He would never be addressed in that manner should he have been returning from Afghanistan in a flag draped coffin. Sadly, he most likely would have never made the news at all coming home as a young black man who gave his life to his country, as it’s more newsworthy in America to sensationalize a story about an “unarmed black teen” just as it is more newsworthy to sensationalize the actions of officers in a manner which convicts them before the facts are known.

I’m not going to address whether or not I believe the officer was justified or not, nor am I going to address whether or not I believe the actions of the deceased led to his death. I won’t because I can’t. I do not have all the facts and without them, I’m simply a hypocrite playing into idiocy and resulting mayhem. What I will address are my thoughts on what has resulted after the fact.

A police officer fired his weapon which resulted in loss of life. Much of those who are painting this officer as a murderer have clearly not considered some very basic and simple facts:

NO officer wishes to take a life. If you choose to dismiss that fact based on your belief that officers are blood thirsty ego maniacs on a trigger trip, slow your roll a moment and remember that an officer who discharges his weapon automatically puts him/herself in the worst position possible for their career. Every officer is accountable for every bullet of their career. Every bullet has the potential to end their career, devastate their livelihood, destroy their marriage, haunt their dreams and strip them of the only thing they can identify with in terms of making a living, which is being an officer. There are very few officers who can see themselves installing cable or working on cars or building furniture after the badge, much less see themselves in prison.

Officers are accustomed to being scrutinized on a micromanaged, microscopic level at all times. An officer’s life is played out on a live reel. Anywhere they go they are being watched. Everything they do is recorded. Everyone has a camera phone, most officers have body mic’s and dash cams. If you think that’s what officers deserve and need to help keep them in check, you might want to consider that the majority of officers hope and pray their actions are caught on some kind of recording, because if not, they are at the mercy of a public who in large part would take joy in their demise. How quickly the public assumes officers act annoyed at cameras in their faces as it must be a revelation of the truth! When in reality most officers are annoyed for the same reason the public is….. how would any of us react if a stranger approached us shoving cameras in our face as we go about our jobs? And if you are in a position in which every 53 hours one of your co-workers DIES doing their job, would you be a little more suspicious of a stranger approaching you? Think it through.

We don’t know yet what was caught on tape or film or body mic or dash cam due to the position of those involved at the time, however, we have witnesses! They happen to be friends with the deceased and according to much of those in support of the deceased, we should automatically take their account as valid and without distortion. A white cop murdered an unarmed black teen who had his hands in the air, surrendering. However, we shouldn’t even consider that the officer might have not chosen to take a life lightly. We are to assume a life meant nothing to him. We are to assume he had no second thoughts as to murdering another human. We are to assume he had no thoughts whatsoever about his career, his family, his livelihood, his future, his retirement, his potential of spending the rest of his life in prison, his morals, his religion, his own humanity….nor are we to think he might have thought twice as he was standing in front of witnesses. Not having all the facts prevent us from making concrete conclusions on any of it at this point. One thing we know for sure…. 99.9% of us know nothing more about the deceased than we do about the officer, yet in 99.9% of cases, we have all formed an opinion, and none of us are fully informed.

One fact that cannot be disputed is the pure idiocy of those behaving in a way which is destructive to innocents. Looting, destruction and acts of mayhem against a community and local businesses as a way to make a statement does nothing more than solidify the opinions of those looking in.

I’ve heard over and over directly from mouths being interviewed “It’s a black thing”…. No. no it’s not. It’s an ignorant thing amongst those who choose to label their own race as victims while they themselves commit illegal acts. There is no making it right. It’s a black thing? Where’s Bill Cosby? Where’s the black officers from that community? There’s three black officers on the payroll…. Where’s their new stolen tv? Oh, but wait… how do you address the black officers? How do you handle them in the black community? Are they exempt? Or are they just as corrupt as the white cops? Are we just going to sweep them under the rug because it doesn’t fit an agenda of a black community vs. white police force? I suppose we’ll call them sellouts since it works against this particular agenda? Are those rioting (not protesting, rioting) hurling Molotov cocktails at the police AFTER asking the black cops to get out of the way? Or is it ALL cops that deserve to be firebombed? That’s not racist in itself is it? Grouping an entire profession into one negative worthless category based on the actions of a few? But isn’t that what the black community is so upset about? Being grouped into one category based on the actions of a few? Or should we not even consider the actions of the few because after all, aren’t they acting as a result of being oppressed and prejudiced against for so long?? That excuses the actions of all, right? We’re tired of being profiled and prejudged and maligned so we’re going to act a straight up fool and ruin the businesses of hard working individuals who have nothing to do with our plight. THAT will give us the credit for our character that we are OWED. That, my friends, is not a black thing…. that’s a stupid thing.

There once was a boy who was born into a family he didn’t choose. He lived in a neighborhood he didn’t choose. He grew up in poverty he had no control over. He was surrounded by drugs and thieves and those who did what they felt they had to do to get by in a world which seemed to judge them all for absolutely no valid reason. His friends said they had no choice in making a living the way they did. His family struggled to find decent pay in a world which preferred another type of candidate. The police were often around his world, because his world was infested with the crime of those who professed to be forced into illegal activity because the white man was keeping them down. He grew up seeing racism, bias behavior, and anger, frustration and the wearing down of good people because of what they faced. He made a choice. He chose to live by the rules, even those that didn’t seem fair. He stayed in school despite the lure of easy money and the promise of a “family” that would never turn on him. He never assumed he was OWED a thing in this life other than the same opportunity that is given to others. He became a police officer. He has been an officer for almost 18 years. He’s a cop for the right reasons, and he happens to be black. He’s also my husband. And I happen to be white. My children happen to be black and they are being raised and taught by their black father that nothing in life is free, there are no handouts, your work ethic and morals dictate your future and you and you alone are accountable for your own actions. Accountability…..where oh where art thou?

There are despicable humans in this world. They come in all colors. There are corrupt, despicable police officers out there as well. There are officers who have profiled and wronged and abused and yes, murdered innocents. There is no excuse for justifying harm to any other officer based on the actions of the corrupt. If you claim you are sick of racism but you also blame “ALL” cops, you are a racist hypocrite. If you claim a black man was murdered by a white cop but you support harming officers not related to the incident in any way, you are a hypocrite. If you support police and believe that it is impossible that they make horrible decisions or bad mistakes or tragic misjudgments, or even callus, calculated injustices, you are naive. When rational common sense is replaced with collective bandwagons, all is lost.

People are sick of a militarized police nation but no one wants to accept what is bringing it on. How many gang bangers are fighting back with 22’s since the weapon of choice on the street became an assault rifle? But the police should use tasers and less lethal options and “aim at a leg” when they have absolutely no idea what is aimed at them 90% of the time. You want an officer to aim at a leg in a struggle when someone is trying to take possession of his weapon? Role reverse, then speak. Center Mass allows an officer and a soldier to see tomorrow. When a weapon is finally discharged, it is because other options are moot. Enough said.

Officers are aggressive and paranoid. YA THINK?! They are DYING while WORKING every FIFTY THREE HOURS. They are being ambushed simply sitting in their cars. They are being sought out, targeted and slaughtered by those they have never had a single dealing with. They are being shot at INSIDE their own precincts. Their home addresses and wives and babies are being exposed by criminals. They are being killed in their own driveways while off duty. “People are sick of corrupt police and taking action” Guess what….. GOOD COPS ARE SICK OF SEEING THEIR BROTHERS AND SISTERS SLAUGHTERED and are on high alert. It’s perfectly alright for the black community to start a hashtag campaign about what pic would be chosen “If they gunned me down” but it’s not acceptable to think an officer who sees one of his own die every other day might be a little on edge?? Oh, that’s right….they signed up for that, that eliminates their right to have intent to make it home alive. No one being profiled wants to take accountability for doing the very thing they are speaking against. Profiling all police based on the actions of some is prejudice.

A white plastic surgeon who was corrupt as shit killed a black woman. He killed many, actually. He was greedy. He was performing cheap surgery on innocent victims with no regard for their lives. Many died or were disfigured and left permanently injured. Where’s Al? Where’s the riots? Where’s the demand for justice against white plastic surgeons!?!? How absurd.

Where’s the outrage for the black officers who were ambushed and murdered by white felons?? Where’s Al? Better yet… where’s the outrage for the white officers ambushed and murdered by black felons, or white felons for that matter? Why aren’t the police wives and police unions of America marching and protesting and rioting in the ghetto and the white meth head trailer parks where the felons lived?! How absurd.

I’ve done over 100 tributes to fallen officers, many of them black, many of them murdered by white men, AND I’m married to a black cop…….where’s my free tv? Where’s Al? How absurd.

If we as a people TRULY want change the first thing we have to get back is accountability. Accountability for our own actions, without blame of others. OWNERSHIP of self-actions. Regardless of our race, regardless of our profession.

The media and every single person feeding off the absurd, half fact, ill informed, premature lack of factual basis to form any conclusion at this point are contributing to racism, violence and sweeping ignorance in this country. Racism is alive and real and I can promise you as a white woman married to a black man with a mixed special needs child I have seen racism on so many level it’s not even funny. I have experienced racism from black and white females. I have experienced racism because I am married to a police officer. I have experienced racism because my children are mixed. I have experienced racist ignorance as a mother of a special needs child……. And there is not ONE SINGLE PERSON ON EARTH that is responsible for ANYTHING in my life or how I live or what choices I make other than MYSELF.

I wholeheartedly feel compassion for the family of the deceased. No parent should ever have to bury their child. My prayers are with them. If the officer was in the wrong, I pray justice is served. If he was justified, I pray for humbleness and acceptance and peace. More than anything, I pray we all take a good hard look in the mirror and honestly ask ourselves how each and every contribution we make to this life lends worth. What we are fighting for loses all meaning when we do so without character.

As police families we should all hold ourselves accountable to an even higher standard. Each and every action as a police officer and as families of officers directly contributes to the positive or negative perception of law enforcement as a whole. We owe it to our own to live by the highest standards of integrity. We also owe it to the communities we are sworn to protect and serve. We can ALL DO BETTER. Regardless of the color of our skin or the occupation we hold – we should strive to make a positive contribution to humanity each and every day. We can all do better.

Prayers for peace and safety to all our officers who have been hurled into this mess, and to all the families who are praying them home.
~Mel
Melissa Littles, Founder
The Police Wife Life©

She sat in the floor of their closet staring at his uniforms, clad in the plastic dry cleaner bags, untouched.  He would wear a uniform out before putting together a new one.  It was almost bad luck to him. He settled into those uniforms, the wear and tear from his duty belt proof of his dedication to his work.  She would often encourage him to break in a new one and yet he resisted. As much as he desired to be sharp and crisp and perfectly pulled together, a new uniform was like unknown territory to him. It wasn’t broken in or comfortable and it left him off his mark, like a new pair of shoes being worn on the biggest race day of a runner’s career.  A slight smile washed across her face at the thought of all his particulars. She picked up the bristled brush from the shoe box he used to shine his boots each day before heading out to shift, running her fingers through it, soaking up the smell of shoe polish which lingered in the air. Her eyes wandered to the empty hook above her head which held his duty belt and the empty hanger which held his uniform shirt. Empty. That’s exactly how she felt as well.

Another sleepless night, like so many before, trying to make sense of it, trying to bring justice to it, she struggled just as she had for years. Not knowing what to do, how to feel, what to say, she tried to shut the thoughts and visions and memories from her mind.  Everything he had told her for years, now seemed to be unavoidably true. For all the times she tried to talk sense to him, for all the nights she tried to calm him, for all the days she tried to convince him he did all he could, she now felt the despair he felt. Hopelessness. Anguish. Failure.  She now truly believed she understood what she had tried so desperately to convince him wasn’t real for years.  It was real. It would forever be real.  There was no more escaping it.

The frozen air and blinding wind of a Chicago morning in January took his breath away. He pulled his stocking cap down over his ears as he reached for his gun and crept around the side of the house.  The call had come in as shots fired.  Multiple neighbors reporting the same but no one actually seeing anything out of the ordinary.  He lingered a bit as he waited for backup but he knew he had to go in without waiting. No cars in the drive, no lights on in the house, yet something screamed at him that it wasn’t right. It was very, very wrong and he felt it. As he approached the door, his flashlight shining in the window, he saw nothing. No signs of foul play, no signs of life at all….and that’s what made his hair stand on end. His gut told him someone was in there, but who? Alive? Dead? Lying in wait? Was this one of those fake 911 calls to entice an officer into an ambush? He didn’t know what to think about that feeling in his gut. Just then another gust of blustery wind rushed up against his back and onto the porch and his eyes moved as the front door inched open with the burst of wind.  An invitation to the madness. Now at an ever heightened sense of alert he questioned going in alone. He knew backup was only minutes, possibly seconds away, but the open door proved too powerful as it lured him inside. No one could have ever anticipated what he would find.  For the first time in fifteen years of exposure to death and destruction and mayhem he found himself rushing to the closest toilet as he vomited up the vision which was just permanently and forever seared in his mind.

They hadn’t been as close lately. For whatever reason, call it life or stress or hectic schedules. Honestly he knew about the marriage problems. Their wives talked and frankly he was annoyed at the stress it placed on his own wife. They used to be inseparable. They were like brothers, not just in blue, they were like blood brothers. Best friends for years, they knew everything about each other. No secrets, no lies, nothing to hide…or so he believed.  They were Godfathers to each others children. They went on family vacations together. They were partners for nine years, but lately there was a distance. Maybe it was just him being annoyed, maybe it was the chaos of everyday life, but he just didn’t pay much attention to the change in his partner.  Truth be told, he dismissed him. He had even joked with his wife that it was like a nine year itch, perhaps it was time for a new model.

His partner had called in sick. He had called to check on him, no answer. Par for the course lately he thought.  But not now. Everything had changed in a heartbeat and nothing could make any of this real. Nothing could make any sense of it. There had to be more. There had to be a reason.  As he was pulled from the bathroom by his colleagues who had arrived on scene it began to hit him. It was real. It was true. This was no dream.  His best friend and partner had eaten his service weapon, his head half blown off inside the home of his mistress who lay dead in a pool of blood on the floor. His one eye left, open as if to say "where were you?"  He didn’t know whether to feel disgusted or angry or overwhelmed with sadness.  His wife…..dear God, his wife and babies. How was he going to tell her?  As the reality of what was to come washed over him, thinking of the pain his partner’s wife would endure, he felt more lost than he had ever felt before.

As the years went by he could never shake it. He felt an overwhelming sense of failure. How could he not know? How could he be so out of touch? He felt guilt for being so absorbed with his own family, he felt guilt for dismissing his partner’s conversations about the issues in his marriage. Every Birthday and holiday and anniversary date would leave him physically ill for his partner’s wife and children. He felt guilt for every date he should be celebrating in his own life.  He felt anger, he felt lost, he had so many unanswered questions.  It took a toll on his marriage. For as much as he loved her, he didn’t feel he deserved happiness.  For as much as she tried to comfort him, he pushed her away.  For as much as his babies loved him, he couldn’t get past the guilt for those left without their daddy.  He turned to the bottle first, but it was too risky. He had to feed his kids.  He ended up doctor shopping for prescriptions to numb the pain legally.  His dedication to his duty started to wane as did the duty to his family.  He ended up on administrative leave for a bit, then scraped his way back to duty.  He ended up on the couches of friends, or women for weeks at a time, then managed to inch his way back into her life. Each time she would confront him he would rage with defensiveness in an attempt to avoid his truth.  She begged him to seek help. He refused. His anger ever growing, her patience ever fading, he returned home one day to changed locks and a court order taped to the door of the home they built together.  

Too much.  It was all too much to bear. He had lost the only thing he had left. No one to comfort him. No one to wake him when the nightmares wouldn’t stop. No one to try endlessly to convince him it wasn’t his fault. He had pushed her too far. He had expected too much. He had once again, failed the one who meant so much to him. There was no escaping, in his own eyes he was nothing but a failure.

She sat in the floor of their closet, looking up at the empty hook and hanger, knowing she would never see the uniform he wore when he took his life. She wept as she wondered how they would go on without him. For as much as she could no longer tolerate his behavior, for as much as she couldn't tolerate his indiscretions, she never stopped loving him, he was the love of her life. She just needed him to get help. If she had known… if she had ever thought for one minute….

Her head in her hands as she wept for him, for the times they shared, for the times she dismissed him, for the moments she ignored him, for her own mistakes he had forgiven, for the memories they made, for the children he left behind. Her heart broken knowing the sacrifices he had made all those years for so many in need. All those he helped, all those who had hated him, all those who had mocked him, all those who had turned their back on him simply because of his badge…. And now, because he could take no more he wouldn’t even be honored for the good he did. He would only be remembered for that one moment he couldn’t take the pain any longer.  And there she was, in the floor of their closet, left to feel she had failed him, left to carry the pain, left to carry the weight, left to find a way, somehow, to ensure her children knew he was a hero.  She vowed that day to teach her children there was always a light after darkness. There was always a better tomorrow. There was always a reason to keep moving forward. And she prayed each night she was strong enough to believe her own words.  ©TPWL

If you or someone you know is suffering, contact Safe Call Now or 1st Responder Treatment. There are resources. There is help.

Monsters in the night; they continued to make their presence known to her. Despite his efforts to conceal them, despite his attempts to bury them, there they were. 

It was as usual; him arriving home, late as always. She used to ask if it was a drunk driver or if that accident on the news was what kept him, she no longer had to.  Their years together in this life of law enforcement let her know, just by the gait of his walk, the movement of his body, she knew.  He would arrive home, sit in the chair he still scolded her for paying too much for but longed to sink into after a shift gone bad, his head rested in his hands, rubbing that bald head as he looked at his boots, almost wishing they would remove themselves. 

They had their own language.  He spoke in full sentences just by catching her eye.  She responded with three simple words which said all that needed to be said in that moment… “I love you”.  It said everything he needed to hear and he knew it meant so much more.  They said enough, with his eyes, with her simple words, to communicate volumes.  It was what he needed and it was what she had learned to give, together with what she needed to reserve for the moment.  There were times, here and there, that she would notice he had already removed his boots before entering the house… she knew exactly why and took that as her cue to pay extra attention to his mood.  She had learned the one thing he would not bring inside their haven was someone else's remains.  She would find herself watching him, as he lugged himself to the bathroom, the sound of Velcro a double edge sword as he removed his vest.  That sound, the ripping of the Velcro, held so much symbolism.  The ripping of Velcro after a shift was the sweetest relief, the proof of a safe return, a twelve hour long anticipated proof of life.  Velcro before a shift invoked immediate anxiety which was quickly put in its place.  A battle cry of sorts…. The ripping and replacing the Velcro - just so… perfectly so; armor, protection, an added chance of victory against an unstoppable enemy.

The mirror in their bathroom gave her a view from a distance.  As she lay in bed waiting on him to collapse she would watch him. On a good day he would balance his phone on top of the shower door, his playlist helping him decompress, she couldn’t help but smile as he did his best imitation of voice and dance as he let go of all he carried home on his shoulders that day.  On a bad day she would find herself holding back tears as she watched him rest his forehead on the shower wall, the steam rising as he tried to allow the scalding water to wash away the nightmares forming in his mind of a day he knew and she knew, he could never erase.   Today was one of those days.  The bad days.

She watched him, studied him…. It had been years of this, this crazy life of theirs.  She still looked at him with a love even she felt hard to comprehend at times.  Dear God, how she loved him, she felt guilty on the bad days, watching him in the shower, she knew he was struggling, yet still, watching him she longed for his body next to hers.  Intimacy was a second thought at the moment, knowing his state of mind, yet she still longed for his warm skin and strong arms wrapped around her, she allowed him his time….his time to decompress, his time to allow all which continued to spin around and replay in his mind to settle, always knowing settled by no means meant resolved.  She prepared as she watched him, for she knew what was to come.

It would start with mumbling, sometimes a twitch of a leg or an arm.  On a really bad night she would suffer an elbow to her ribs, or on rare occasion she would force him awake as he began to place her in a choke hold, his apologies so profuse as he held her, kissing her over and over as he swore he would never, ever hurt her.  Most times it was just the slide of her foot over to his side of the bed, just enough to stir him, just enough to interrupt the monsters which took over his sleep.  There were times he would wake himself, finding himself sitting straight up, sweating, not knowing what brought him there….he would sink back into peace as he encompassed her with his body.  She would never forget him calling her his “kryptonite”…the one thing he couldn’t overpower, his weakness. She was his refuge, his sanctuary, the one place he could let go of his duty to the public.  She was his haven.  She held those words as close to her heart as she held him.  She knew he needed that escape. She knew she was the one who could give him that…. She also knew she could take it away.   She made it her mission to never take it away.

Tonight was one of the bad nights; the nights when nothing could keep the monsters at bay.  She was never sure who was walking the halls of his memory.  The baby he couldn’t save, the pregnant mother he held as she lay dying in his arms on a cold highway, the teenager he had mentored for years who ended it all with a single shot gun blast to the head.  The gang bangers he found himself facing, outnumbered, waiting for backup, exposed in a battle which he prayed he survived.  Inside a cruiser, trying to end a pursuit before it ended an innocent’s life as he felt the wheels lose traction as he saw pavement coming into sight before he awoke days later wondering why he was in a hospital bed.  She never knew what triggered it, she never knew which monster was visiting, all she knew was his peace, if even momentary, was in her hands.   She gently grabbed his shoulder from behind, slid her hand across his chest….she felt him shake himself awake and look to her in confusion.  His chest, clammy with sweat as she held him and said those three words, plus two, which were the equivalent of his kryptonite…. “I love you…. now sleep”. ©TPWL  Written by Melissa Littles