As
I walked through the police headquarters parking lot and approached our
Honda Element with the pictures of Theresa and I on the sides, a young
Sergeant I had trained many years earlier, drove up in his UC,
(undercover) vehicle. He joked, "Hey Lt. nice pictures". We both broke
into a hearty laugh as he ribbed me about my change of careers as well
as the pictures on the side of our Shay Realtors' company vehicle. The
pictures which have been good for business, but also a frequent source
of laughter.
The Sergeant then said, "Lt. you must really miss it! SWAT and Robbery
Detectives are responding right now to a 211 silent at a jewelry store
in Mission Valley. Sounds like a couple armed gang members are smashing
display cases. How do you not want to go?" I told him I would like
to, but I was very happy raising our boys who we often call, "our three
monkeys."
I
told him they make us laugh all the time. We wrapped up our
conversation quickly and I told the Sergeant to, "be safe" a common
salutation between law enforcement personnel. It was interesting, he
did not tell me to, "be safe" but instead said, "enjoy being at home on a
night like this".
As the rain continued to fall, I paused briefly to look at
Theresa and our pictures on the side of our car before sitting down
behind the wheel and closing the door. I sat there in the PD parking
lot for a few minutes and watched police cars pull in and out of HQ.
There is something very special about being a cop, something you cannot
get anywhere else. You feel a sense of job importance and job
satisfaction, especially when you are pursuing and arresting armed
felons or street gang members.
When
a crime series starts it is like having an angry pit bull with blood in
it's gums attacking people in your community. You may only have a
general idea of what he or they look like, or a nickname as you start
your search. It can become all consuming even when you are off the
police beat. Though you may be eating dinner with your family or
friends, your mind flips back to the victims and how you need to stop
the criminals before they hit again. You cannot share those thoughts
with anyone, but you know the predators are out there hiding and moving
among so many good, law abiding citizens and any one of them could be
their next victim.
As
I began driving home alone, the rain started to increase as I turned
N/B on the I-163. I thought about my conversation with the sergeant and
my new profession. In the private darkness, I wanted to yell out,
"Yeah I miss it". But not why most people would think. I really miss
the teamwork and the creek of my leather gear as I would get in or out
of a police car. The frequent laughter as well as the feeling of
putting my hand on the leather jacket covered shoulder of another police
officer who just did everything they could have possibly done, and
still they lost.
The looks we would receive from children, parents and criminals. Confronting the
challenge
of a stern look of a child that is mimicked perfectly by their parents
who are holding them. Parents who for whatever reason had taught their
children police are evil and cannot be trusted. I loved on the rare
occasion when I could get a smile or laugh from one of those kids. I
was just never able to get one from their parents.
Each
moment of being in the streets was a challenge and a ten or twelve hour
shift full of uncertainty, challenges and danger. Yeah, I really do
miss it.
To
distract myself, I turned on KGB or another rock radio station very
loud. I am sure our faces were probably shaking from the vibrations on
the cheap, wet door panels on our Honda. I thought to myself, I should
be driving fast to the armed robbery scene. I should be calling in one
of our SDPD helicopters with a FLIR, (forward looking infrared) scanner
to look for the hot engine of the getaway car which is likely parked
only a few blocks from the shopping center.
Most
smash and grab and armed robbery suspects dump their stolen getaway
cars in close proximity of their target. They frequently pull off their
outer shirt, dump the cash into a water bucket to disable any tracking
sensors and quickly transfer to another vehicle with their shotgun or
rifle hastily wrapped in a jacket or blanket. If a handgun is their
weapon of choice it is likely comfortably tucked in the front or back of
their waistband.
As
I drove through the pounding rain, I was listening to the band Boston.
I told myself I should be feeling my back-up firearm on my left ankle
holster as I drive a specially designed, high powered, Ford Police
Interceptor Crown Victoria with extra heavy duty suspension and the
unique police performance package which would allow me to drive over 90
MPH or faster, while steering with my left knee and talking on my cell
phone to responding elements or other agencies. At that speed, I could
still bring up the latest emergency updates from police communications
on my vehicle's Mobile Data Terminal. When my dad would accompany
me on ride-a-longs, he always thought it was one of my better technical
skills.
Instead,
I am driving a tin can Honda Element that could be pulled into a big
tent and about a dozen lanky guys with big red noses, multi-colored wigs
and matching large feet could tumble out while the crowd laughed
hysterically. I should really be focusing on arresting armed predators
before some young jeweler employee or a seventeen year old convenience
clerk was murdered.
The
rain let up but the coldness remained in the air as I made the final
few turns before reaching our home in 4S Ranch. I was now in an
extremely rare, sour mood. I was simply feeling selfish and sorry for
myself as I closed the skinny driver's side door of the Honda. I then
began slowly walking towards the front door of our home. Wearing a
badge and walking up to darkened strangers doors for over twenty-four
years you cannot help but learn to pay attention to any changes in the
environment as you approach.
I
saw the curtain to the right side of our front door ruffle slightly. I
then saw a little hand and skinny little arm pull it back as the warm
light from inside of our home poured on to the porch. I could see one
of our son's hand holding the curtain back while he and his brother
pushed their faces against the cold glass. Their little brother, our
youngest son, was trying to peek through the window as well, but his
older brothers had the front seats and they were not about to give them
up. All their eyes were filled with excitement and wanderlust.
I
immediately burst out in laughter as the damp trench coat of regret and
disappointment I was wearing, immediately disappeared. I realized once
again I was an idiot. As I opened the door and felt the warmth and
smell of dinner, I was back in a very special place. A place I actually
love more than police work. I just said, "come here you monkeys".
Since
that chilly night in November, that sense of regret has never
returned. I just have to recall our children's faces. It has also made
me more
thankful.
Thankful for all the firefighters, nurses, and doctors who are
frequently separated from their families on holidays. Our brave
military, past and present who are chasing their own pit bulls, even in
foreign countries. And of course cops and deputies who are not home
with their wives, husbands, or partners this Thanksgiving. They are out
there in the dark and cold instead of being at home with their loved
ones or wrestling with their own monkeys.
Theresa and our boys, Troy, Raymond and Ryan want to thank each of you and wish you a very happy Thanksgiving Holiday.
Most people have no idea the challenges you face ...
Sincerely,
Ray & Theresa Shay
Copyright 2012 All Rights Reserved. No duplication of this material without written consent of Shay Realtors.
