Losses
Yesterday I spent the day at SWAT training. It was a good day. We hiked up a local peak in our full gear to 'teambuild'
and worked on a suicide bomber/hostage scenario, played around with the bomb robot.
In the team meeting we discussed the murder of a brother officer, J_____, from LASO. He was a gang officer looking for a parolee at large. He was interviewing a couple in the doorway of their home when the suspect stepped out from behind them and shot him in the head.
He was thirty-five, a fifteen year veteran, two kids. Just got remarried two weeks ago.
One of the guys on our team came up from LASO a few years ago and was a good friend of his.
I lost my first friend, a guy in my academy class, less than a year out on the street. Since then, twelve years, I've gone to a funeral, or two, or three, every year.
We all know guys that have been killed. We've all come close.
We play these games, like- "Well, he was doing something stupid that I never would have done." Or, "He should have done x, y, or z." Or, "Well, that guy was a fucking idiot. You knew it was going to happen." Or "He was a hard charger. You knew it was going to catch up with him."
On and on.
But often we just shake our heads and admit, "Well, that could have happened to any one of us."
We don't like that too much.
I remember as a kid I used to see my old man on the TV, dragging a bad guy out of a bank, or running towards a house with his gun in his hand, and think he was Superman. Or times he'd call and the first thing he'd say was "I'm alright."
Then we'd turn on the TV.
What's it say about us? About me?
I don't know. The easy answer is we're all heros, or fools.
The real answer is something more complicated than that.
Anyway, here's to fallen friends.
.
and worked on a suicide bomber/hostage scenario, played around with the bomb robot.
In the team meeting we discussed the murder of a brother officer, J_____, from LASO. He was a gang officer looking for a parolee at large. He was interviewing a couple in the doorway of their home when the suspect stepped out from behind them and shot him in the head.
He was thirty-five, a fifteen year veteran, two kids. Just got remarried two weeks ago.
One of the guys on our team came up from LASO a few years ago and was a good friend of his.
I lost my first friend, a guy in my academy class, less than a year out on the street. Since then, twelve years, I've gone to a funeral, or two, or three, every year.
We all know guys that have been killed. We've all come close.
We play these games, like- "Well, he was doing something stupid that I never would have done." Or, "He should have done x, y, or z." Or, "Well, that guy was a fucking idiot. You knew it was going to happen." Or "He was a hard charger. You knew it was going to catch up with him."
On and on.
But often we just shake our heads and admit, "Well, that could have happened to any one of us."
We don't like that too much.
I remember as a kid I used to see my old man on the TV, dragging a bad guy out of a bank, or running towards a house with his gun in his hand, and think he was Superman. Or times he'd call and the first thing he'd say was "I'm alright."
Then we'd turn on the TV.
What's it say about us? About me?
I don't know. The easy answer is we're all heros, or fools.
The real answer is something more complicated than that.
Anyway, here's to fallen friends.
.
posted by tearful dishwasher at 9:40 PM
3 Comments:
that's tough--a funeral every year. and the weird emotional implications that it could have been you. a lot of stress.
Yeah, it's weird alright.
Mostly what it feels like is shitty. You see a guy's wife and kids at a funeral and you realize that there isn't one thing out there that's worth making them suffer that kind of loss for. Something I swore I'd never do to my kids, having grown up with the fear myself.
Jeeze. I'm on a bummer trip right now.
Let's go back to the artwork and poetry.
yrs-
Scott
Hey, I'm a gang officer, work probation Central California. I did my training in LA back in 2005.
One of our instructors from LASO knew the officer. We reviewed the case, and talked about the "what ifs" and "shoulda dones".
I just happened upon this blog, this posting, and it brought all the conversations back. To think about this again after the years, after losing one of our own officers, really brings in to light how small the world is, and how lasting images of past friends linger.
Be safe, thanks for the post.
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