A TRIBUTE TO ALL LAW ENFORCEMENT OFFICER!
By; Bob Lonsberrt
By; Bob Lonsberrt
The
cops amaze me.
Some
days I honestly don’t know how they do it.
Like
yesterday, at the Navy Yard.
We
know about the bad guy, we know about his military record and his criminal
record. And we know what he did.
But
we don’t know much about how he came to stop doing what he was doing.
We
don’t know much about how they took him down.
But
what we do know is impressive.
Which
gets back to the cops.
Yesterday
morning about 8:20, the first 9-1-1 call came in of trouble in Building 197.
Moments later, an alert was broadcast and officers began speeding toward the
Navy Yard from across the District of Columbia.
Regular
patrol officers.
Some
from schools, some from speed-enforcement details, all from the first hour a
new shift and a new week. Old, young, male, female, black, white. They just
came. Primarily from the Metropolitan Police Department and the Federal Park
Police.
Officers
whose lives were going from zero to 60 in the blink of an eye. Officers who
went from the sleepy good morning of a Monday dawn to the real-world
battlefield of an active shooter.
They
began to arrive almost immediately.
And
quickly formed up into an assault team.
They
didn’t wait for the SWAT team. They didn’t stand back and wait for the armored
personnel carrier. They formed up and went in.
Specifically,
seven minutes after the first call, an ad hoc team of park police and district
police with AR-15s ran into the building in their patrol uniforms.
They
ran to the sound of the gunfire.
They
closed with the enemy, and engaged him, and killed him.
And
by every account some 10 minutes after the first word of trouble had breathed
across the police radio, regular patrol officers had killed the gunman and
ended his assault.
He
fought the law, and the law won.
It’s
impossible to calculate how many lives that saved. It’s impossible to calculate
how much expertise that took.
It’s
impossible to grasp the mindset of readiness that must permeate the men and
women of law enforcement. Without notice, the police can be thrown into life-and-death
situations where every second and every decision counts.
And
sometimes, like yesterday, they must operate in an environment that is
heartbreaking and troubling. The responding officers at the Navy Yard ran past
the dead and dying, their blood pooling where they lay, in order to press their
attack against a monster.
And
that was just yesterday.
Every
day it is different, every call it is different. Sometimes they are comforting
heartbroken children, other times they are knocking on the door to inform
someone of the death of a relative. Sometimes they are spat upon, other times
they are vomited upon. They are hated and loved, cursed and praised, sometimes
on the same call.
They
see the carnage of the highways, the sorrow of abused and neglected children,
the collapse of a battered wife. They talk the despondent off bridges, they
catch the drunk drivers, they try to mediate family and neighbor disputes.
And
half the time they do it while being cussed by one group or another. Maybe it’s
the neighborhood people. Maybe it’s the pastors. Maybe it’s an activist with a
cell-phone video.
The
politicians trash them, the residents trash them, the police brass trashes
them. They’re ready to lay down their lives for strangers, but heaven help them
if anybody thinks they were impolite to a citizen. Heaven help them if they
disrespected somebody’s culture.
They
fight crime all day, every day, and usually it is a pretty low-key affair.
Until there’s a glint of sunlight or a stumbling drunk or a dispatch on the
radio.
That’s
when it’s Superman time.
That’s
when the next 10 minutes of your life are going to be some of the most
important in your life.
Like
yesterday at the Navy Yard.
Across
a big city, the routine of the morning worked its way out. Until there was a
cry for help, and the sirens began to roar, and a crew of men and women from at
least a couple of departments ran toward the danger.
And
killed it.
Before
he could kill anybody else.
The
cops amaze me.
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