{"id":50437,"date":"2020-11-16T00:45:53","date_gmt":"2020-11-16T09:45:53","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/writers-at-large.com\/riff\/?p=50437"},"modified":"2021-01-23T20:54:58","modified_gmt":"2021-01-24T05:54:58","slug":"eight-minutes-forty-six-seconds","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/writersatlarge.com\/riff\/eight-minutes-forty-six-seconds\/","title":{"rendered":"Eight Minutes. Forty-Six Seconds."},"content":{"rendered":"

[et_pb_section fb_built=”1″ admin_label=”section” _builder_version=”3.22″][et_pb_row _builder_version=”4.7.4″ _module_preset=”default”][et_pb_column type=”4_4″ _builder_version=”4.7.4″ _module_preset=”default”][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.7.7″ _module_preset=”default” text_font=”|700|||||||” text_font_size=”20px” text_line_height=”1.5em”]<\/p>\n

Ask anyone who has ever had cops for friends, and they will tell you the reason they all stick together is because so few understand or appreciate what they do, what they see, how they cope.\u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n

<\/strong><\/p>\n

I do.\u00a0<\/strong><\/em><\/h4>\n

[\/et_pb_text][\/et_pb_column][\/et_pb_row][et_pb_row column_structure=”2_5,3_5″ _builder_version=”4.7.4″ _module_preset=”default”][et_pb_column type=”2_5″ _builder_version=”4.7.4″ _module_preset=”default”][et_pb_image src=”https:\/\/writersatlarge.com\/riff\/wp-content\/uploads\/2020\/11\/pexels-harrison-haines-3573426-scaled.jpg” title_text=”pexels-harrison-haines-3573426″ _builder_version=”4.7.4″ _module_preset=”default” min_height=”550px” custom_padding=”6%|3%|||false|false” border_color_right=”#e09900″][\/et_pb_image][\/et_pb_column][et_pb_column type=”3_5″ _builder_version=”4.7.4″ _module_preset=”default”][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.7.4″ _module_preset=”default” custom_padding=”||0px|4%|false|false” border_color_left=”#e09900″ border_width_all_tablet=”” border_width_all_phone=”” border_width_all_last_edited=”on|desktop” border_width_left_tablet=”0px” border_width_left_phone=”” border_width_left_last_edited=”on|phone”]<\/p>\n

I worked <\/span>city desk of <\/span>The St. Louis Post-Dispatch<\/span><\/i> for<\/span> se<\/span>veral years before I begged off and went to features. Hard news is where you can meet, date and marry either a cop, <\/span>firefighter, lawyer, doctor or <\/span>j<\/span>udge<\/span> \u2014 <\/span>the people you run into when there\u2019s a fire, homicide, major court case, or you\u2019re cited for contemp<\/span>t for <\/span>not surrendering notes<\/span> at <\/span>trial.\u00a0<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

T<\/span>hey also become <\/span>\u201creliable sources\u201d who <\/span>provide off-the-record <\/span>in<\/span>formation<\/span> that makes the difference between Page 1<\/span>,<\/span> and being buried<\/span> inside, <\/span>among ads for used cars and vacuum cleaners.<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

I learned this when I was a<\/span>ssigned to cover a general alarm fire at a senior complex where firefighters brought out so many charred bodies they had to take turns going in. One guy threw up on the grass, walked away a few feet and <\/span>just <\/span>stared into space, while another sat down on the<\/span> curb and sobbed.<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

I scribbled frantically in my reporter\u2019s notebook, capturing <\/span>the scene until I could no longer stand it. I remembered how my mother cautioned years ago <\/span>to <\/span>always wear clean underwear and take Kleenex in case there\u2019s no toilet paper <\/span>wher<\/span>e<\/span>ver.<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

[\/et_pb_text][\/et_pb_column][\/et_pb_row][et_pb_row _builder_version=”4.7.4″ _module_preset=”default” custom_padding=”|0px|||false|false”][et_pb_column type=”4_4″ _builder_version=”4.7.4″ _module_preset=”default”][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.7.4″ _module_preset=”default”]<\/p>\n

Mother\u2019s first admonition didn\u2019t seem relevant at the fire, but I could offer the guy something to blow his nose on other than his shirt sleeve. I sat down beside him and probably said something stupid, like \u201cAre you okay?\u201d as I handed him the last of my tissues.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

We dated a few times <\/span>and just drifted apart<\/span>,<\/span> but in that time<\/span>,<\/span> I learned about what firefighters have to endure, including people more concerned about saving their stash than their partners; the neighbors who want to save their house next<\/span> door and try to commandeer the hose; scantily clad women who offer to show their appreciation later.<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

<\/span><\/p>\n

[\/et_pb_text][\/et_pb_column][\/et_pb_row][et_pb_row _builder_version=”4.7.4″ _module_preset=”default” use_background_color_gradient=”on” background_color_gradient_start=”#000000″ background_color_gradient_end=”rgba(224,153,0,0.27)” background_color_gradient_overlays_image=”on” background_image=”https:\/\/writersatlarge.com\/riff\/wp-content\/uploads\/2020\/12\/crimescene.jpg”][et_pb_column type=”4_4″ _builder_version=”4.7.4″ _module_preset=”default”][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.7.4″ _module_preset=”default” text_text_color=”#ffffff” custom_padding=”|2%||2%|false|false” border_color_right=”#e09900″ border_width_all_tablet=”0px” border_width_all_phone=”” border_width_all_last_edited=”on|tablet” border_width_right_tablet=”0px” border_width_right_phone=”” border_width_right_last_edited=”on|desktop”]<\/p>\n

The homicide guy was pretty darned special. At 6\u20196\u201d he towered over <\/span>my <\/span>5\u20191\u201d. <\/span>Our paths crossed <\/span>at a triple homicide. <\/span>It doesn\u2019t get more romantic <\/span>than<\/span> th<\/span>at<\/span>. Two <\/span>men and a woman had been shot in a flat above a store.\u00a0<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

The building was old and the floor slanted so that blood from the two male victims trailed from the kitchen into a narrow hallway. Blood-spattered scales sat still where the deceased had been<\/span> measuring and bagging heroin.\u00a0<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

[\/et_pb_text][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.7.4″ _module_preset=”default” text_font=”Times New Roman||||||||” text_text_color=”#ffffff” text_font_size=”25px” text_line_height=”1.4em” background_enable_image=”off” custom_padding=”2%|15%|2%|10%|false|false”]<\/p>\n

\n

“Our paths crossed at a triple homicide. It doesn\u2019t get more romantic than that.”<\/span><\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n

[\/et_pb_text][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.7.4″ _module_preset=”default” text_text_color=”#ffffff” custom_padding=”|2%||2%|false|false” border_color_right=”#e09900″]<\/p>\n

At the other end of the hallway was a b<\/span>edroom where the third victim, a woman who had been nursing her newborn, lay. She had been shot in the face at close range. When a cop pulled back the covers to see if there were other<\/span>\u00a0wounds<\/span>,\u00a0<\/span>the baby woke up bawling. It scared the daylights out of everyone.<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

It was then that everyone seemed to notice me and ha<\/span>nd<\/span>ed\u00a0<\/span>me\u00a0<\/span>the swaddled infant, thinking I was a social worker. At that point I had to own up to being a reporter.\u00a0<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

[\/et_pb_text][\/et_pb_column][\/et_pb_row][et_pb_row _builder_version=”4.7.4″ _module_preset=”default”][et_pb_column type=”4_4″ _builder_version=”4.7.4″ _module_preset=”default”][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.7.4″ _module_preset=”default”]<\/p>\n

The lead homi<\/span>cide detective was apoplectic. He chewed me out. He yelled, he cursed, he threatened me with arrest for impeding an investigation. I let him vent, at which point he made the mistake of asking me who <\/span>the hell <\/span>did I think I was.<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

I looked up into his very re<\/span>d face and replied, \u201c<\/span>A<\/span> working stiff, just like you, trying to do my job.<\/span>\u201d\u00a0<\/span> He was so angry he couldn\u2019t decide which was worse: <\/span>my quiet response or the fact that I called him a <\/span>\u201c<\/span>working stiff.<\/span>\u201d<\/span> He escorted me down and out of the crime scene, by which time <\/span>the <\/span>actual <\/span>social worker was arriving. He escorted her up, completely ignoring me. That, I thought, was that.\u00a0<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

But no. He called the next day to apologize for his street-cop language and offered to take me to dinner.<\/span> The<\/span> story ran above the fold in page 1. The next year or so was exciting and informative.<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Some<\/span> time after that romance ran its course<\/span>,<\/span> I got another assignment that drew me into a relationship with a command rank lieutenant, who in the c<\/span>ours<\/span>e of our four years together, became a captain.\u00a0<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

He was an extraordinary man. We liked the same music<\/span>;<\/span> we<\/span> did museums, dinner parties<\/span>,<\/span> and concerts. We took walks along the riverfront and just plain enjoyed each other. Even my friends liked him, once they recovered from the fact that I lived with a cop.<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Upon his promotion<\/span>,<\/span> he was assigned to one of the city\u2019s <\/span>more problematic districts\u2014 half black, half white<\/span>, half <\/span>wealthy<\/span>.\u00a0<\/span> A quarter were<\/span> up<\/span>wardly mobile black<\/span>s <\/span>and white<\/span>s, a<\/span>nd a quarter <\/span>were <\/span>poor blacks. He also got the uniformed cops nobody else knew what to do with.<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

[\/et_pb_text][\/et_pb_column][\/et_pb_row][et_pb_row column_structure=”1_2,1_2″ make_equal=”on” _builder_version=”4.7.4″ _module_preset=”default”][et_pb_column type=”1_2″ _builder_version=”4.7.4″ _module_preset=”default”][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.7.4″ _module_preset=”default” text_text_color=”#ffffff” background_color=”rgba(104,74,0,0.64)” module_alignment=”left” custom_margin=”||||false|false” custom_padding=”5%|5%|5%|5%|false|false” border_color_left=”#e09900″ border_width_left_tablet=”0px” border_width_left_phone=”” border_width_left_last_edited=”on|phone”]<\/p>\n

Day after day we swapped horror stories<\/span>.<\/span> It was easy for me to move on to a less stressful job, and I did. All I really cared about was raising my daughter who, until I met him, was my responsibility. She was bused <\/span>to and from school. <\/span>The bus dropped her at the police station where she napped i<\/span>n his office until one of us brought her home.<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

The men and women under the captain\u2019s command flourished. He promoted based on merit, not political connection. He insisted that officers who needed therapy get it, with the understanding they had a job waiti<\/span>ng once they made it through.<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

He organized <\/span>community <\/span>fish fr<\/span>ie<\/span>s with spaghetti, slaw<\/span>, <\/span>and cornbread. The guys let kids sit in squad cars and turn on lights and sirens. Kids could do homework at the station. Crime plummeted. <\/span>Community policing <\/span>worked<\/span>.<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

[\/et_pb_text][\/et_pb_column][et_pb_column type=”1_2″ _builder_version=”4.7.4″ _module_preset=”default”][et_pb_image src=”https:\/\/writersatlarge.com\/riff\/wp-content\/uploads\/2020\/11\/Photo-by-Eric-Yeich-from-Pexels-Ellen-Sweets-scaled.jpg” title_text=”Photo by Eric Yeich from Pexels–Ellen Sweets” _builder_version=”4.7.4″ _module_preset=”default” custom_margin=”5%||||false|false” custom_padding=”|2%|||false|false”][\/et_pb_image][\/et_pb_column][\/et_pb_row][et_pb_row _builder_version=”4.7.4″ _module_preset=”default”][et_pb_column type=”4_4″ _builder_version=”4.7.4″ _module_preset=”default”][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.7.4″ _module_preset=”default” custom_padding=”||1px|||”]<\/p>\n

I write al<\/span>l this because I know what cops go through. They see and experience stuff I don\u2019t ever want to see again. Only the men and women in blue know what it\u2019s like.<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Some make it through just fine. My homicide guy who was white (and probably still is) was extraor<\/span>dinary. He was tough if he had to be, but not if he didn\u2019t. He was smart, decent<\/span>,<\/span> and kind. We talke<\/span>d honestly <\/span>and openly about race an<\/span>d about some of the bone-chilling cases he had to handle.<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

[\/et_pb_text][\/et_pb_column][\/et_pb_row][et_pb_row column_structure=”1_2,1_2″ _builder_version=”4.7.4″ _module_preset=”default”][et_pb_column type=”1_2″ _builder_version=”4.7.4″ _module_preset=”default”][et_pb_image src=”https:\/\/writersatlarge.com\/riff\/wp-content\/uploads\/2020\/11\/Photo-by-Sandy-Torchon-from-Pexels-Ellen-Sweets-scaled.jpg” title_text=”Photo by Sandy Torchon from Pexels–Ellen Sweets” _builder_version=”4.7.4″ _module_preset=”default” max_height=”490px” custom_padding=”|||2%|false|false”][\/et_pb_image][\/et_pb_column][et_pb_column type=”1_2″ _builder_version=”4.7.4″ _module_preset=”default”][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.7.4″ _module_preset=”default” custom_padding=”||0px|2px||” border_color_right=”#e09900″ border_width_right_tablet=”0px” border_width_right_phone=”” border_width_right_last_edited=”on|phone”]<\/p>\n

The li<\/span>eutenant who became a captain was only the fourth or fifth<\/span> black captain in the St. Louis Police Department. The pressure on them all was horrendous. They couldn\u2019t afford to make a mistake. In turn they had <\/span>to manage <\/span>uniformed <\/span>officer<\/span>s who <\/span>did.<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

I am <\/span>delighted <\/span>that t<\/span>he massive demonstrations <\/span>over the summer <\/span>resu<\/span>lted in a long, hard look at how law enforcement works \u2014 or sadly, how it often fails to work.\u00a0<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

With a new administration <\/span>we\u2019re <\/span>possibly <\/span>closer than we\u2019ve been in my lifetime to getting something akin to positive change<\/span> in policing. <\/span>I know my limited expe<\/span>rience with men and women<\/span> in blue is not representative of anything other than my personal experience. <\/span>I also know the impact of what bad cops do too often outweighs the good.\u00a0<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

[\/et_pb_text][\/et_pb_column][\/et_pb_row][et_pb_row _builder_version=”4.7.4″ _module_preset=”default”][et_pb_column type=”4_4″ _builder_version=”4.7.4″ _module_preset=”default”][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.7.4″ _module_preset=”default”]<\/p>\n

If we can just get the good ones to speak out against the bad ones \u2014 and get the bad ones out altogether, the light at the end of the tunnel will no longer look like an oncoming train.<\/p>\n

How providential that a courageous young woman with a cell phone camera made change happen. <\/strong><\/p>\n

How fortuitous that eight minutes and forty-six seconds can change the world.\u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n

<\/strong><\/p>\n

George Floyd.<\/strong><\/h6>\n
Say his name.\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0<\/strong><\/h6>\n
Say all their names.<\/strong>\u00a0<\/span><\/h6>\n

[\/et_pb_text][\/et_pb_column][\/et_pb_row][\/et_pb_section]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Ask anyone who has ever had cops for friends, and they will tell you the reason they all stick together is because so few understand or appreciate what they do, what they see, how they cope.\u00a0 I do.\u00a0I worked city desk of The St. Louis Post-Dispatch for several years before I begged off and went […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":44,"featured_media":50697,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_et_pb_use_builder":"on","_et_pb_old_content":"Ask anyone who has ever had cops for friends, and they will tell you the reason they all stick together is because so few understand or appreciate what they do, what they see, how they cope.\u00a0<\/strong>\r\n

I do.\u00a0<\/strong><\/em><\/p>\r\n \r\n\r\n\"\"<\/span>\r\n\r\nI worked <\/span>city desk of <\/span>The St. Louis Post-Dispatch<\/span><\/i> for<\/span> se<\/span>veral years before I begged off and went to features. Hard news is where you can meet, date and marry either a cop, <\/span>firefighter, lawyer, doctor or <\/span>j<\/span>udge<\/span> \u2014 <\/span>the people you run into when there\u2019s a fire, homicide, major court case, or you\u2019re cited for contemp<\/span>t for <\/span>not surrendering notes<\/span> at <\/span>trial.\u00a0<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>\r\n\r\nT<\/span>hey also become <\/span>\u201creliable sources\u201d who <\/span>provide off-the-record <\/span>in<\/span>formation<\/span> that makes the difference between Page 1<\/span>,<\/span> and being buried<\/span> inside, <\/span>among ads for used cars and vacuum cleaners.<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>\r\n\r\nI learned this when I was a<\/span>ssigned to cover a general alarm fire at a senior complex where firefighters brought out so many charred bodies they had to take turns going in. One guy threw up on the grass, walked away a few feet and <\/span>just <\/span>stared into space, while another sat down on the<\/span> curb and sobbed.<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nI scribbled frantically in my reporter\u2019s notebook, capturing <\/span>the scene until I could no longer stand it. I remembered how my mother cautioned years ago <\/span>to <\/span>always wear clean underwear and take Kleenex in case there\u2019s no toilet paper <\/span>wher<\/span>e<\/span>ver.<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>\r\n\r\nMother\u2019s first admonition didn\u2019t seem relevant<\/span> at <\/span>the fire, but I could offer the guy something to blow his nose on other than his shirt sleeve. I sat down beside him and probably said something stupid, like \u201c<\/span>A<\/span>re you okay?\u201d as I handed him the la<\/span>st of my tissues.<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>\r\n\r\n[perfectpullquote align=\"right\" bordertop=\"false\" cite=\"\" link=\"\" color=\"#3369B1\" class=\"\" size=\"\"]\"Our paths crossed at a triple homicide. It doesn\u2019t get more romantic than that.\"[\/perfectpullquote]<\/span>We dated a few times <\/span>and just drifted apart<\/span>,<\/span> but in that time<\/span>,<\/span> I learned about what firefighters have to endure, including people more concerned about saving their stash than their partners; the neighbors who want to save their house next<\/span> door and try to commandeer the hose; scantily clad women who offer to show their appreciation later.<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>\r\n\r\nThe homicide guy was pretty darned special. At 6\u20196\u201d he towered over <\/span>my <\/span>5\u20191\u201d. <\/span>Our paths crossed <\/span>at a triple homicide. <\/span>It doesn\u2019t get more romantic <\/span>than<\/span> th<\/span>at<\/span>. Two <\/span>men and a woman had been shot in a flat above a store.\u00a0<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>\r\n\r\nThe building was old and the floor slanted so that blood from the two male victims trailed from the kitchen into a narrow hallway. Blood-spattered scales sat still where the deceased had been<\/span> measuring and bagging heroin.\u00a0<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>\r\n\r\n\"\"<\/span>\r\n\r\nAt the other end of the hallway was a b<\/span>edroom where the third victim, a woman who had been nursing her newborn, lay. She had been shot in the face at close range. When a cop pulled back the covers to see if there were other<\/span> wounds<\/span>, <\/span>the baby woke up bawling. It scared the daylights out of everyone.<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>\r\n\r\nIt was then that everyone seemed to notice me and ha<\/span>nd<\/span>ed <\/span>me <\/span>the swaddled infant, thinking I was a social worker. At that point I had to own up to being a reporter.\u00a0<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nThe lead homi<\/span>cide detective was apoplectic. He chewed me out. He yelled, he cursed, he threatened me with arrest for impeding an investigation. I let him vent, at which point he made the mistake of asking me who <\/span>the hell <\/span>did I think I was.<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>\r\n\r\nI looked up into his very re<\/span>d face and replied, \u201c<\/span>A<\/span> working stiff, just like you, trying to do my job.<\/span>\u201d\u00a0<\/span> He was so angry he couldn\u2019t decide which was worse: <\/span>my quiet response or the fact that I called him a <\/span>\u201c<\/span>working stiff.<\/span>\u201d<\/span> He escorted me down and out of the crime scene, by which time <\/span>the <\/span>actual <\/span>social worker was arriving. He escorted her up, completely ignoring me. That, I thought, was that.\u00a0<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>\r\n\r\nBut no. He called the next day to apologize for his street-cop language and offered to take me to dinner.<\/span> The<\/span> story ran above the fold in page 1. The next year or so was exciting and informative.<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>\r\n\r\nSome<\/span> time after that romance ran its course<\/span>,<\/span> I got another assignment that drew me into a relationship with a command rank lieutenant, who in the c<\/span>ours<\/span>e of our four years together, became a captain.\u00a0<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>\r\n\r\nHe was an extraordinary man. We liked the same music<\/span>;<\/span> we<\/span> did museums, dinner parties<\/span>,<\/span> and concerts. We took walks along the riverfront and just plain enjoyed each other. Even my friends liked him, once they recovered from the fact that I lived with a cop.<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>\r\n\r\nUpon his promotion<\/span>,<\/span> he was assigned to one of the city\u2019s <\/span>more problematic districts\u2014 half black, half white<\/span>, half <\/span>wealthy<\/span>.\u00a0<\/span> A quarter were<\/span> up<\/span>wardly mobile black<\/span>s <\/span>and white<\/span>s, a<\/span>nd a quarter <\/span>were <\/span>poor blacks. He also got the uniformed cops nobody else knew what to do with.<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\n\"\"\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nDay after day we swapped horror stories<\/span>.<\/span> It was easy for me to move on to a less stressful job, and I did. All I really cared about was raising my daughter who, until I met him, was my responsibility. She was bused <\/span>to and from school. <\/span>The bus dropped her at the police station where she napped i<\/span>n his office until one of us brought her home.<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>\r\n\r\nThe men and women under the captain\u2019s command flourished. He promoted based on merit, not political connection. He insisted that officers who needed therapy get it, with the understanding they had a job waiti<\/span>ng once they made it through.<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>\r\n\r\nHe organized <\/span>community <\/span>fish fr<\/span>ie<\/span>s with spaghetti, slaw<\/span>, <\/span>and cornbread. The guys let kids sit in squad cars and turn on lights and sirens. Kids could do homework at the station. Crime plummeted. <\/span>Community policing <\/span>worked<\/span>.<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nBut <\/span>t<\/span>hat <\/span>effort<\/span>, <\/span>planning<\/span>, and <\/span>managing took a toll. His drinking increased. He chain smoked. We parted. I moved away, and for a hot minute<\/span>,<\/span> I thought we\u2019d reconcile. We didn\u2019t. He married another officer<\/span>,<\/span> and I heard a few years ago that he had died.<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>\r\n\r\nI write al<\/span>l this because I know what cops go through. They see and experience stuff I don\u2019t ever want to see again. Only the men and women in blue know what it\u2019s like.<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>\r\n\r\nSome make it through just fine. My homicide guy who was white (and probably still is) was extraor<\/span>dinary. He was tough if he had to be, but not if he didn\u2019t. He was smart, decent<\/span>,<\/span> and kind. We talke<\/span>d honestly <\/span>and openly about race an<\/span>d about some of the bone-chilling cases he had to handle.<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>\r\n\r\nThe li<\/span>eutenant who became a captain was only the fourth or fifth<\/span> black captain in the St. Louis Police Department. The pressure on them all was horrendous. They couldn\u2019t afford to make a mistake. In turn they had <\/span>to manage <\/span>uniformed <\/span>officer<\/span>s who <\/span>did.<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\n\"\"\r\n\r\nI am <\/span>delighted <\/span>that t<\/span>he massive demonstrations <\/span>over the summer <\/span>resu<\/span>lted in a long, hard look at how law enforcement works \u2014 or sadly, how it often fails to work.\u00a0<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>\r\n\r\nWith a new administration <\/span>we\u2019re <\/span>possibly <\/span>closer than we\u2019ve been in my lifetime to getting something akin to positive change<\/span> in policing. <\/span>I know my limited expe<\/span>rience with men and women<\/span> in blue is not representative of anything other than my personal experience. <\/span>I also know the impact of what bad cops do too often outweighs the good.\u00a0<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>\r\n\r\nI<\/span>f we can just get the good ones to speak out against the bad ones \u2014 and get the bad ones out altogether, the light at the end of the tunnel will no longer <\/span>look <\/span>like an oncoming train.<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>\r\n

How providential that a courageous young woman with a cell phone camera made change happen. <\/strong><\/p>\r\n

How fortuitous that eight minutes and forty-six seconds can change the world.\u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\r\n

George Floyd.<\/strong><\/p>\r\n

Say his name.\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\r\n

Say all their names.<\/strong>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>","_et_gb_content_width":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[8,10,12],"tags":[225,34,36,35],"class_list":["post-50437","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-for-the-sake-of-argument","category-stranger-than-fiction","category-theme-park","tag-black-history-month","tag-blm","tag-george-floyd","tag-police"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/writersatlarge.com\/riff\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/50437","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/writersatlarge.com\/riff\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/writersatlarge.com\/riff\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/writersatlarge.com\/riff\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/44"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/writersatlarge.com\/riff\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=50437"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/writersatlarge.com\/riff\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/50437\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/writersatlarge.com\/riff\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/50697"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/writersatlarge.com\/riff\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=50437"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/writersatlarge.com\/riff\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=50437"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/writersatlarge.com\/riff\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=50437"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}