The Three MonkeysWritten by Ray Say

I was in good spirits when I walked out of the San Diego Police Department headquarters building on that chilly November evening a couple of years ago.  That was despite wearing my "Realtor" clothes which consisted of a long sleeve shirt, tie and slacks. I was always more comfortable in my dark blue, wool, San Diego Police Department uniform. Every time I put that uniform on, I had a sense of reverence for what the uniform and badge represented.  It also reminded me that I had fulfilled my life long dream of being a cop.  

I have always been attracted to police work and especially the crisp, blue uniforms worn by SDPD and LAPD Officers.  I recall even as a child growing up in Albuquerque, New Mexico that when I saw a blue police uniform moving on the rotating rack at the dry cleaners, I seemed to fall into a trance.  I would tug on my mom's shirt and point.  She was patient about my infatuation with everything police, from my insistence on watching One Adam 12, the Rookies or my frequent admiration or occasional trance, anytime I saw a police officer or a police car.

I sometimes joked if I had not been a cop in real life, I may have turned to the dark side, just so I could hang around cops.   Behind the blue or tan uniforms, gold badges, or silver stars,  cops are like many of you.   Most cops have a great sense of humor because they are faced with so many situations which are either so bizarre or heartbreaking that you are always looking for a reason to smile.  Cops who internalize the unfairness and negatives from the underbelly of our society, usually don't last.  They quit, resort to a chemical dependency of some sort, become ill, injured, get fired, or just simply fade away. 

 

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  

Info@TrustShay.com
 

  

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