In the intervening time between the last post and this one I have been ‘fired’ (by Jen), pestered, threatened and peppered with questions as to when the blog will be updated again.–Not ALL by Jen, mind you. She was just the only one who flat-out fired me for being a lazy bastage. And as such, I would like to echo Dr. Cox on ‘Scrubs’, speaking to his ex-wife: "As much as it may SEEM like it to me personally, I feel desperately compelled to remind you that we are NOT, in fact, in prison...and I am just SO not your bitch!" And now that I’m sitting down to write...I have a great number of subjects on which I could lucubrate. Given the events of the past week, though, I think this one will be a little more somber. I will try to write an amusing series of anecdotes shortly. There’s nothing funny about what happened this week.

Sunday night/early Monday morning, dispatch put out an ATL (attempt to locate) on a missing girl. It was frustratingly vague simply because the investigating police agency had no details to go off of. All we had was her description: 7 year old Asian female, last seen wearing a pink dress, 3' 8" and 45 lbs. We made note of it and filed it away. The next day, the investigation and search was in full swing. But nothing happened and no one was found. There were still no suspects. There was still no indication on whether or not the little 7-year-old girl was simply lost or hurt, or had been abducted. According to the information we had, it was like this beautiful little thing just VANISHED. I spent Monday grumbling about the damn snow and the hundreds of crashes it caused. In between grumblings, I was winning a trial on a speeding ticket and making sure a felonious drunk driver never gets his license back. That night I went to work and did my job.

The next ‘morning’ (it was actually just after 2:00 pm but that’s morning for me) sarge called and woke me up. He said the lieutenants were looking for volunteers to go help with the search at this local agency. Of course I said yes. Operations like that are part of why I do the job in the first place. It’s why I love the helicopter (aside from the sheer thrill). Of course I said yes.

We were briefed by a team of FBI agents familiar with searches for missing children and then we went to the command post to get our assigned search areas. There were hundreds of civilian volunteers canvassing the neighborhoods and passing out flyers, searching dumpsters and culverts...that sort of thing. There were also well over a hundred sworn officers from various departments around the area. Our task was to request entry to citizens’ houses and search for the girl. We had a similar case in our area not long ago and the victim turned out to be in a neighbor’s house less than a block away. So this time...house-to-house searches were a priority. That was our job. To search houses. Sarge had the map and we split into two teams of two. I went with our K-9 officer, sans the dog.

I think the thing that struck me most about the searches was the overwhelming willingness, for the most part, of the citizens to allow us entry. Perhaps some of it was fear at the uniform, or ignorance that they were allowed to say ‘no’ and deny entry. Perhaps some of it was simply the thought that allowing us in would get their house checked off a very important list.–Instant exoneration in a way. But I can’t help but think that the vast majority of the cooperation we experienced was due to a genuine desire to help in some small way. It was unusual for the community to galvanize the way it did during that investigation. The place where this little girl was lost is not known as a ‘good’ part of town. It is a hodge-podge of race and income that seems to cross most of the spectrum. However, it also boasts the highest percentage of probationers and parolees in the state. It is not a ‘nice’ town. And it’s not often thought to be a ‘safe’ town. And yet this little girl had brought them all together in a way that is extremely rare to see. That day, I searched one block with my fellow officer. In the space of that one block I saw white, black, asian, polynesian...young, old, couples (including a lesbian couple). I saw income ranges from penniless pensioners to a wealthy elderly woman living in a fortress of a mansion. I saw fastidious and immaculate abodes and I saw some of the worst hovels I could imagine. I saw pack-rats with basements crammed with 40 years of nick-knacks. I saw renovated houses with post-modern minimalist design and furnishings. Roughly 30 houses and apartments in one city block and I saw nearly the entirety of the human spectrum.

And the one common denominator? The one overarching attribute? Their nearly unanimous answer to the question: "We are assisting in the house-to-house search for this missing girl. May we come in and look around your home for a few minutes?" The answer common to 98% of these highly diverse people? "Absolutely! Please, come on in!" We were welcomed almost ubiquitously. Even when we opened their freezer doors (the ONLY possible purpose being to find dismembered or hidden body parts of a murdered little girl) there was no protest and there was no offense. We had one gentleman express distaste at the idea that the police wanted to come into his home, but he let us in. We had one young, single girl who seemed nervous that we might be imposters and asked for identification beyond the badge. One could argue that the full uniforms complete with taser and mobile radio should be enough, but like I said, this was not a ‘good’ part of town and she was a young, single woman. We furnished the ID and then she smiled and welcomed us in. There was one girl who was terrified of letting us in and getting busted for weed use. She was shaking and nervous and initially asked us to come back in ten minutes. We persisted and even SHE let us in. My associate and I silently noted the pervasive odor of burnt marijuana, found no seven year old girl, and left in peace. I wish we could have told her that her misdemeanor possession is as FAR from our attention as, say, busting one of the civilian volunteers for jay-walking while handing out flyers. It just simply wasn’t a priority that night. Roughly 30 dwellings...and nearly unanimous consent and concern for a girl they’d never met. Regardless of the reasons behind their acquiescence, it diluted a little of the bitterness I’m slowly gaining for my fellow humans.

Unfortunately, my crew was needed for regular patrol duty at 8 pm that night. We spent about 2 ½ hours helping with the search, and then we got ready to leave. Sarge and my other colleague were pursuing a possible lead and the K-9 officer and I were preparing to leave and check on for normal patrol.

Another officer assisting in the search drove up to us then. He asked if we were helping out with the search. We said yes. He told us that one of the teams had found her. Dead. And while I FELT it, the K-9 officer’s expression and reaction conveyed it far better than my own brain. It was like a punch to the gut. "Dead?" he shouted, eyes going wide with incredulity. Deep down, I think even we, as cynical police, still held hope that we’d find her alive and safe. The three of us sat in our idling patrol cars and shook our heads. "Found her in an apartment not far from where she lived," the third officer continued, "Four people in the apartment. They arrested all of them."

I shook my head again. "Fuck due process!" I growled, "Put a bullet in each of their fucking brain pans!" It was a guttural reaction to the news, half-sincere anger, half-frustration, all jest. And in the interim, I’ve grown to actually be a little ashamed of myself for that reaction. But that explanation will have to come later.

She was dead, and I-even now-know absolutely no more than the general public on the particulars of what happened. All I know is that I was glad Spencer did a ride along during the normal portion of my shift so I didn’t have to think about it. It felt futile...going to all those houses. I know that’s incorrect because SOMEONE had to find her, alive or otherwise, and it COULD have been one of the houses on that block I searched. I contributed and it wasn’t futile.

The next night, while wading through what felt like mountains of reports from the snow day and the rest of the week, I tried to imagine what it must have been like to find her. For me...by the 30^th house...it felt routine. Open garbage cans, open freezer doors...check closets and shine the flashlight into the dank corners of crawl-spaces. What if it had been ME who found her? What if opening that ONE shower curtain revealed the broken and lifeless body of a beautiful little girl? Would the sight of the body override my training and experience? Just HEARING about it made me angry enough to blurt the first thought that came to my head. When I drew the weapon to take the occupants into custody, would I have the stamina and discipline not to pull the trigger? I like to think so. And I think if I were honest with myself, I would be able to do it right. It’s both haunting and a little frightening, though, to know that the thought would be rattling around my brain, though. Do it! Says the angry and impulsive part of me, screaming for ‘justice’. Do it! She’s dead! And THEY did it! ‘Fuck due process...’ And how many, hearing the story or reading what I’ve written, would have the same reaction?

Judging from the message boards on the media websites, the vast majority of my fellow humans would have the same reaction. And that’s a weird feeling...to feel validated that I wasn’t the only one who had that gut reaction and to (in the same BREATH) feel revulsion at being lumped in with these ignorant fools on the message boards who I mock on a daily basis. The local internet was replete with calls for public hangings...disembowelings and some even suggested crucifixion or drawing and quartering. ‘Shoot first, ask questions later.’ ‘Kill them all and let God sort it out.’ ‘The Lord may grant you forgiveness, but you’ll find none here.’ The outrage and anger were rarely equaled among the public here. I suppose on some level that’s a testament to just how much the community rallied around the girl. Citizens who on any other day would mock her race or economic stature were suddenly crying out for the execution of her murderers.

Having a few days’ perspective and re-reading my own writing, I suppose there were several lessons from the whole ordeal. First and foremost, that justice is elusive and must be EARNED. As it turned out, the four initial arrestees were simply innocent roommates of the likely-guilty party. When the officers knocked on the door and asked permission to enter and search, the four occupants granted it (most likely because they truly had no idea what lurked in their basement). The other person who lived there was found and arrested later and at least confessed to PART of the crime. In light of those facts comes my shame at my gut reaction. After all, it’s my damn JOB to be professional and thorough. It is my job to protect the rights of even the worst. It is my job to leave judgment to the courts and juries. It is my DUTY to gather the facts and act on reason and not emotion. The facts coming to light eventually gave me new perspective on my role and on the necessity of corralling emotion. It also gave me new respect for the oft-maligned distance and objectivity that the justice system gives us. In the end, it was a VERY good demonstration of why vigilante justice is so highly frowned upon. It didn’t make me appreciate my fellow ignorant citizens any more, but it made me like my own snap-judgment even less. Had the public (or I) had our initial way, four innocent people would now be dead.–Most likely killed in absolutely horrific ways.

But more importantly, this girl’s tragic ordeal has a very silver lining. I saw it with every resident who let us into their homes. Before we even started asking, a young man who lived in the house where we parked came up and asked if we were assisting in the search. We told him yes and then he asked if there was anything he could do to help. We asked to come in and search his house. He gladly granted it. His wife was carrying a two-week-old infant as we looked around. The girl is dead...but maybe that town will be a little brighter for a little while because of it.

As for me...All I can say is that I learned a lot from it and am still dreading the day I have to see a lifeless child. Either from violence or from an accident, I dread it. I also know that as much as I enjoy my job, I wouldn’t want to trade places with the officers who found her. Not for an instant.

I’m off, and I don’t feel like posting a horoscope. I’ll try and write something amusing tomorrow.

You know, the knee jerk reaction is normal. The difference between you, and the others, is you stopped shortly after it entered your mind. The others are still posting those comments.

You and I do a very difficult job....we both admit to being callous....stuff like this tends to break up that callousness....maybe feeling, having that emotion come back is a good thing....I know it hit me Monday night. I was getting the ATL's on the radio, while spending an hour listening to the story of a date rape victim. The emotion was a good thing....even if I try not to show it.

You may have had the thought, but what makes you different is you never would have acted on it....the badge would have kicked in a millisecond later, to that I have no doubt.