Why such Assholes?

So, they want to know why police are so mean. Why they're such assholes. Why they're, basically the boogeyman.

Far be it from me to say that cops aren't assholes. Cops can be pretty mean. Cops can even "overreact". But I also know something else. I know why. I sat down with a number of officers, and we melded this story, based upon facts and circumstances surrounding a number of cases. This story is not intended to be historical fact. This is intended to explain a mindset. Specifics have been modified or removed to protect the sources and subjects.

Here's why police are such assholes:

I don't know about you, but everyone is a dick at 3 AM after their third naked guy of the night, and things don't get better from there. There is a certain dark side to the job that changes the people who have to deal with it. If you have a loved one who works in police, EMS, Fire or any job where their day to day life is stepping into everyone else's worst-day-ever, you've probably already picked up on some of the darker stories. If the officer is lucky, he'll share them with his incredibly understanding and supportive spouse. If he's smart, he'll share them with a counselor or trusted friend. More likely he'll keep them inside, in the dark, where they can hurt him in oh so many ways. 

This is a difficult story, and I heavily suggest having adorable animals nearby. Possibly a unicorn. But there was a girl, and her father hurt her. Her mother took her to the hospital, and tried to lie about what happened. The doctor, being a professional, was suspicious and called the police. A uniformed officer took an initial statement and contacted a detective whose division was focused on sexual abuse of minors.

I don't know how those detectives function. I only ever did initial statements and tangential work on these cases, as in this story, and that led to my rapid discovery that you cannot, in fact, drink to forget. Now I can't drink without remembering. Needless to say, they don't hang out in public with other cops much, and they definitely don't joke about work. But back to the story.

This detective did his work, talked to the little girl and the mother and nurses and decided to call out my unit's Lt. The Lt called my sergeant, who brought me along since I was the "safety" guy. My only role was to observe, make sure the detective got a valid warrant, and basically get details that would get us a safe arrest. And it went just like that, my bosses got briefed by the detective, and then that little girl asked from her hospital bed if she was going to be okay.

I need to point out that lying to people is part of policing. I've told folks with active warrants that they weren't under arrest, that I was a special escort for a meeting with an elected judge, and that they only had to wear handcuffs because it is department policy. It's far easier to lie someone into cuffs and jail than it is to fight them or chase them, no matter how funny some chases get. But that little girl was the only one I felt bad lying to. I told her she'd be just fine. You can find a psychology expert to validate this, but it's my understanding that that much trauma that early in a child's life is a life altering event. "Okay" is extremely relative in those cases.

As far as I know, she asked everyone who went in and out of that room the same question. But right then, in there, a little bit of my soul died answering her. I really don't know how people who work in child abuse do it.

We briefed my team, my only part in this was pointing out that since mom drove the girl to the hospital the dad, our suspect, probably knew we were coming. This means that dynamic entry was our best choice. I won't deny that I was angry, but the decision to enter "hard" was still valid, given the information.

So we went in. Our designated knocker broke down the door, I entered with the other 18 officers and I found our guy sitting on the corner of his bed. Slacks, button down shirt mostly unbuttoned. He looked like any other guy back from work. There was literally nothing to distinguish him from any other guy on the street. No way to look at him and see a monster who put a little girl in the hospital.

This is why academies stress that there's no such thing as a routine stop. The officer might stop a guy for a bad taillight. The guy might think he's being stopped because the officer somehow knows he just strangled his wife and drowned the cat. That's why Ferguson police released the video of Mike Brown stealing cigarettes. It wasn't to speak to the frame of mind of Wilson, but to the frame of mind of Brown. One guy thought he was witnessing jaywalking. The other may have thought a robbery was catching up to him.

It's very important to remain professional, especially when working with hyped up men carrying rifles. And the thing that most people don't understand is that it can be so incredibly hard to remain professional in the face of some things. Having an outlet for rage is a must. Some work out obsessively. Some play video games. Everyone has a different outlet, some healthier than others. I tried to put mine into my work. My team knows when I'm upset because the door usually leaves the hinges when I'm cross. And I was very upset with this father. I still had that cold clarity that training and adrenaline give you, but when I found the dad, and restrained him on the ground, I wanted to kill him. Because I saw that little girl, and I had seen what horrific trauma does to people as they grow up. I knew that shooting this man was the right thing to do. I still feel that way sometimes. That's easily the scariest thing I've ever encountered in my life, that certainty. Obviously, I didn't shoot the guy. I was, and hope I still am, a professional at the end of the day. But I also actively avoided following up on that case. Because I'm still scared that I will find out something to make me regret not pulling that trigger. That's a line that can't be uncrossed. I don't know that every, or even many, other officers deal with similar things, but I'm certain that more do than let on. Because those stories aren't funny, and they're not something you talk about with people, and expect to get a laugh.

After this is said and done, you have to put it away. There are six more hours left in your shift. There will be more arrests, more citizen interactions, and none of them can be made to bear the brunt of the horror you have to witness because they likely know nothing of it, and it certainly isn't their fault. You have to be a professional, and be courteous, and a counselor, and a hundred other things over the course of your shift that have nothing to do with a little girl in a hospital bed with an uncertain future. It's a rare person that can dissociate themselves from the reality that they have to tread in all day, and not be an asshole at least part of the time.

The weirdest part is, they'll be back tomorrow. They'll do this all again. It's hard to belong in other people's pain, and yet we have an entire profession of emergency responders who will accept that burden, wander into human misery and do what they can, every time. And some will be assholes. Many, in fact. Though I don't wonder why anymore.