Anyway, to the story...I was cruising around, er, patrolling, when a car just pulls away from the curb directly in front of me. No signal, no nothing. Well, you gotta signal. It's the law, right? Yes, it is. I conduct a stop and begin to walk up on the car (always passenger side, always) when I notice the driver stroking the head or body or something of the passenger. I can't see what it is. The passenger seat is completely reclined back, so my first thought is that it's this dude's woman. But it could be a dog. It's neither. It's a boy. A small, cute-as-hell little man in his Spidey shirt.
I go through my thing - license, registration, and insurance card. As the driver is rifling through the glove box, I'm standing there next to this cute kid. I smile. He's absolutely adorable. And then he says something to me, kinda in a whisper probably because he's so small. I can't quite make out all of it, so I replay it back in my mind as quickly as I can before I ask the little man to kindly repeat himself. I got an idea, but I ask him to say again what he just asked me.
He does. "Are you gonna shoot us?"
What?! I'm sorry. I must've missed that or misunderstood you. You - in all of your three years of life experience - just asked me if I am going to shoot you? Are you fucking kidding me?! What in the fuck has this kid been exposed to, lied about, or brainwashed into? What the fuck has happened to our society where we, the ones who chose this profession - the one that answers your 9-1-1 calls, runs towards the sound of gunfire, rushes to your aid, risks body, and sacrifices mind - have become so vilified that a 3-year old, whose presumably only exposure to "news" and current events are what comes out of the mouth of his pre-released-with-a-GPS-ankle-braclet-and-a-protection-order-against-him-for-domestic-assault-on-that-kid's-mother dad? Am I gonna shoot them? What do I say to that? Seriously? Help me out. I was dumbstruck for a moment and then probably blurted out some stupid ass response that I can't even remember now.
Little man, the reason you're sitting in the front - fully reclined - seat of a car is because your dad wanted to pick you up some grow-up-to-be-a-big-boy food at...drum roll...7-11. And the seat is fully reclined because pops knows that what he's doing is wrong. Why is it wrong, you-cute-as-hell little thing? Because you need to be in a child's seat. A child's seat affords you the greatest protection, if, heaven forbid, you two get into a collision. So, bottom line, your sperm donor placed your little impressionable life in jeopardy. That, my friend, is unsat.
Oh...did I forget to mention that dad had a suspended license, I mean, learner's permit for...you guessed it, failing to pay child support. And I'm the asshole, right? The kid asks me if I'm going to shoot them because I've been portrayed as evil. The wrongdoer. Unreal.
So, I give the dude some paperwork and tow his car. I tow it because I know he'd just do it again. He walks away bent. A few minutes later, he's back and still can't believe that I'm towing his car. Driving on a suspended license or driving privilege in Maryland is an arrestable offense. I maybe saved your kid's life. We'll never know, really. But you're gonna give me shit about towing your car?! Go fuck yourself. You made your bed. Sleep in it.
This culutral war that we find ourselves in, clearly, does not have a foreseeable end to it. Not with that narrative. Just when you think...you hope...that there is a finality to it, somewhere out there, a little boy pushes that horizon back a generation further.
Add that to the others I carry. Guaranteed that stays with me. Guaranteed.
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