Good Cop, Bad Cop
Lots of stories about the Bad Cop around here. You'd think every police officer everywhere is just looking for someone to beat up or kill. Not so many stories about the Good Cop, though. There are plenty of stories, but they're not in the news, and nobody posts about them. Here are a few, from my own experience. Maybe you know of others. Let's tell them:
Situation 1. My father-in-law took a fall, ending up on the floor in a confined space in his home's laundry room. He's a big man, and I'm the only other guy in the family. My mother-in-law called us, and we dashed over there. It's just a five-minute drive. The man was chronically ill, had lost most of the strength in his legs, and weighed around 250 lb. He was in a bad spot, and there was no way for me to get him up on his feet. He wasn't hurt, but it was impossible for one guy to get him back up. I told my mother-in-law to call 911 and explain the situation. She did, and within about three minutes a squad car pulled up, and two youngish cops knocked on the door. We showed them to the situation. After a brief discussion, and after explaining that he also had a very painful shoulder from bursitis, they came up with a plan. One went out and came back in through the garage, so he could be behind the fallen man. Together, they popped him up on his feet, basically using brute strenght. I had come around behind with a chair, through the garage and they sat him on the chair and then evaluated him to see whether paramedics were needed. They weren't. We transferred him to his wheelchair and that was that. They said, "Call anytime there's a problem." We did, and always got the help that was needed from either the cops or the paramedics. He died a couple of years later, at 87.
Situation 2. I heard a knock at my door one afternoon. When I went to the door, the two kids from across the street were on the porch. Ages about 13 and 11, both girls. I asked what was wrong, since they both looked scared. "We think there's someone in our house." They had just come home from school, and heard something that frightened them. "OK, " I said, "just sit here on the porch." I called 911, explained the situation, and they sent someone out. Within five minutes, two cars pulled up, one a canine unit. They came and asked the girls some questions about what they'd heard, and decided to go have a look. Since there was a canine unit, I explained that there was a German Shepherd dog in the house. The canine officer said that could be an issue, so I told them that if we could open the back door, I'd handle the dog. So, I grabbed a leash, we went over, they opened the door, and I leashed the dog and went across the street to my house and tied it up. I knew the dog and it liked me a lot, so there was no problem. Then, the cops brought in the canine and they went through the whole house. Turned out there was nobody there, but the cops said it looked like the dog that lived there had knocked a table over in the basement, so that's what the kids heard. They thanked me for calling them, told the girls that they had done just the right thing, and drove off.
Situation 3. At about 2 A.M. I woke up to someone pounding on my back door and yelling "Let me in!" Sounded like a drunk. So I went over near the door and yelled back, "You've got the wrong house." It happens sometimes at 2 A.M. He kept yelling and pounding on the door. Now, it was unlikely that he'd be able to make entry, since it's a solid door with a deadbolt, so I wasn't all that worried. I told him three or four more times that he had the wrong house. He persisted, so I told him I was calling the cops. He kept up the banging and drunken yelling. I called 911, but before I did, I retrieved my shotgun from the closet. I explained the situation and told the dispatcher that I had armed myself with the shotgun, but that I would secure it as soon as the patrol car arrived. Within five minutes, two cars showed up, and I secured the shotgun. The door-banging stopped. One of the cops knocked on the front door, which I opened. The other cop was there holding the drunk up. They asked if I recognized him. "Nope." So the second cop put him in one of the cars. The cop at the door asked about the shotgun. I told him that I had secured it. He said, "OK." I asked him what was going to happen to the guy. He said that they had his ID, and that they'd take him to his own house, which was a couple of blocks south of mine. "Looks like he closed the bar to me," the cop said. He hadn't done any damage, so they were taking him home.
Three situations in St. Paul, MN. Three cases where cops did what they were paid to do. My father-in-law was off the floor, two little girls weren't scared any more, and a poor asshole who was too drunk to recognize that he was at the wrong house got taken home. Good cops!
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