What can be said at this point? Words won’t change what has
already happened. Can they possibly change what will happen in the future? I shared my thoughts after Deputy Parrish was
killed in the line of duty just 5 short weeks ago. Since then 2 more deputies
have been killed and several other officers wounded, and that’s just here in
Colorado. Each death has been felt
heavily in the law enforcement community, each successive loss seeming to be
cumulative, with no lessening of feeling due to familiarity.
I didn’t know any of these men personally, only sharing the
bond of wearing a badge for a living, the strength of which has surprised
me. I have found relatability to these
brave officers, with them being close to my age (between 29 and 34), married,
and two of them with young children. I’ll
be honest; these deaths have shaken me and scared me. While I love my job and it provides me an
opportunity to do amazing things, the fact that I could become a target because
of a piece of metal that I pin to my shirt is a sobering thought.
Senseless tragedy. You
hear it often, but do we stop to think about it? If an officer is killed while taking down a
drug house, or in a shootout with a murder suspect it is as tragic as any death
in the line of duty. But there is some sense to it, some reasonable seeming
motive behind the aggressor’s actions. Millions
of dollars of drugs or a life sentence or even the death penalty could be construed
as rational reasons for taking the life of another. Deputy Parrish was killed
responding to a welfare check. Senseless. Deputy Gumm was killed responding to
a disturbance call. Senseless. Deputy Flick was killed while investigating a
stolen car. Senseless. How can a 19-year-old
kid decide that a stolen car is worth a man’s life? How can a couple months of
jail time justify in anyone’s mind taking a father from his twin 7-year-old
children?
This senselessness stems from a society that has grown
callous and subtly hostile towards law enforcement. We vilify and crucify officers involved in
shootings that are instantly labeled unjustified, without knowing all the facts
first, without having been subjected to the split-second life or death
decisions made in that moment. Let me
clarify that in no way am I suggesting police are above the law, or that
thorough investigations should not take place. However, why do we not trust the
men and women sworn to protect us as default?
Why do we not extend the basis for American law, innocent until proven
guilty, to the officers who are putting their lives on the line? Why do we let an embittered mob society and
click-bait driven media allow us to question highly skilled and intensely
trained professionals?
Other negative sentiments seem more innocuous, but nonetheless
have the same detrimental effect. “How
comes whenever I see a police care I feel paranoid rather than protected?” It’s
a popular caption I’ve seen bandied around on Facebook. “Speed traps are just revenue generators.” “They
are just trying to get their ticket quota for the month.” When even simple
speed limit enforcement is viewed as an unjust oppression it becomes the root
for the tree of disrespect that casts a long shadow over the work law enforcement
is trying to do. What seems a harmless
infraction to many, and an annoyance to those caught must be viewed through the
eyes of those enforcing it. While you were
just trying to make up time because you were late to wherever, that officer was
making sure he didn’t have to see it again. “It” is the limp body of a child he
pulled from a car that rolled. “It” is being first on scene to a car crumpled
against the guard rail with unmoving passengers inside. “It” is a car on fire
while the officer desperately, helplessly calls for an engine. “It” is the uniform he has to throw away
because it’s stained with blood from the first aid he rendered. All because the driver was going “just 5 over.”
So what do we, as a society, do? Crime won’t stop, that is
as guaranteed as death and taxes. What we can do, what we must do, is begin to treat
our law enforcement with not only the respect they deserve, but also with the
gratitude they have earned. Instead of awkwardly avoiding eye contact with
them, give them a smile. Get out of your comfort zone, walk up to them, shake
their hand, and thank them for their service. Let them know they are making a
positive difference. For one, you may be the encouragement they need. I know in light of these recent losses many
officers are asking themselves if they can do this another day, another year,
can they hang in there till retirement, can they stand the risk of leaving
their family in the morning with no guarantee they will be home that
night. Without exception I bet every
officer would answer the question “Why are you a police officer?” with the
standard, yet honest, “Because I want to help people.” Your simple interaction
will go further to convincing them that they are doing just that than you can
possibly know. Secondly, if you reach out to those people with badges on their
official looking uniforms and their Batman-utility-belts, you might just be
surprised to realize that under it all is a mom, a dad, brother, sister, son,
daughter, husband, wife. A person, just like you or me, who answered an inner
calling to serve others. They laugh,
they love, they hurt, they cry. They are
imperfect people doing an incredibly difficult job, sacrificing their health,
time, and personal ambition in the desire to aid the greater good.
To my brothers and sisters in blue; stay safe, thank you for
all you do, and go home each night.
Reach out to those around you, we are family and family are made for
difficult times. We can get through
this, together, stronger.
To those outside law enforcement; you play a vital role in
preventing tragedies like this from happening again. Let us rise above the status quo of recent
years and return to a country that cherishes law and order, that respects those
who protect us. Let us remember Deputy
Zackari Parrish, Deputy Heath Gumm, and Deputy Micah Flick. Let us vow that the lessons learned from
their deaths will not be forgotten, and we will remember and honor them by
lifting up our law enforcement personal in our daily prayers, thoughts, and
most importantly, respecting them in our actions.
To Deputy Micah Flick; the night you were killed I tucked my
son into bed. He asked me to cuddle and I certainly wasn’t going to refuse him
on a day like this. As I lay down beside
him, his small arm draped across my neck, his warm breath spreading across my
face as I stared into his eyes, my own clouded with tears, all I could think
was “Thank you.” Because of your
incredible sacrifice I went home safe.
Because of your years of service my family was safer. “Thank you” are simple words, and they are
much too little for what you have given us, but they are all I have. Rest in peace Deputy Micah Flick, we have the
watch from here.
