Hey, Officer Schmuck, do me a favor and don’t send me your mess. One of your satisfied customers — Citizen Bob, the guy who was three over and you wrote him a ticket because your numbers were down — can’t tell a star from a shield from a campaign hat.
To him a cop is a cop is a cop, so the way you treated him reflects on me.
Now that he’s in my jurisdiction and I have to pull him over for a violation, he thinks he is the target of a quota campaign.
Remember that girl who cried and blinked and had you wrapped around her finger on your last car stop? She had a .32 in the console and a crack pipe still hot under her seat. You couldn’t get past her tube top, so now she’s on my beat and she’s still packing.
Remember ten years ago? That kid whose bike got stolen and her mom told her to call you because she thought it would be a teachable moment?
You couldn’t muster up enough fake interest to keep from rolling your eyes.
“Sorry kid,” you said without even opening your mouth. “I’ve got more important things to do.”
You didn’t even write a report. You just called it “community policing” and went back in service.
I get it. You’re busy. But now that little girl is on my city council. Your inability to spend ten minutes acting like you could do some police work just cost my budget royally.
Remember that partner you had who always enjoyed getting in that last kick? The one who laughed at creating the face prints on the squad car’s trunk? The one who always carried a little dope in case he couldn’t come up with something to bargain with on a gang banger?
The guy who always stepped into a perp’s personal space so he could get a push-back and make an assault on officer case? The guy who wanted to read all of your supplementals to make sure both stories matched?
Thanks for putting up with that. Very loyal. One of the dirtbags he screwed over has an uncle in our prosecutor’s office. Guess how often our assault-on-officer cases get dropped?
I want to stand in the shadow of your greatness, not under the dark cloud of your fragile ego or skillful sloth played out on the public. I want kids on my block to expect that I’ll care, not just suck it up being a victim because they think I can’t or won’t do anything. I want bad guys to fear me because they are guilty, not because I can randomly screw with their lives.
Idealistic? Yes. Unashamedly. We all get tainted, cheated, assaulted, lied to, lied about, passed over, and deeply hated. You knew that going in, or at least soon after.
Unlike you, when I told my interview board that I wanted to be a police officer so I could help people, I actually meant it. I still do. Even Barney Fife knows that his badge is a lot bigger than him.
You really want to be a brother or sister to me? Then don’t make messes and send them to me.