"Juice, Daddy, Juice!"

As a very young child, I loved fruit juice - so much so that my parents would leave a small glass of juice for me in the refrigerator before they went to bed each night so I could satisfy my craving for it, should I wake in the middle of the night, without having to wake them (it was the 1970's; back then, we were told it was healthy!). I would usually find a glass of orange or apple juice, but sometimes it was Welch's grape - tolerable, but not preferred, due to the silt that always settled at the bottom of the glass. One time, Mom left me a glass of tomato juice and my wails of grief taught her never to make that mistake again. My name is Kimmie, and I am a recovering juice-aholic. I am also the daughter of a cop.

The reason I had a habit of waking in the middle of the night is because my father often worked the second and third shift, coming home well after my 8 PM bedtime. I would hear him come home, take off his gun belt, and know that Daddy was home. It never occurred to me that he might not come home; I just found life to be preferential when he was home. In the world I grew up in, Mommies were there to dry tears and Daddies were there to keep us safe from the bad guys. (Plus, he sometimes brought fresh jelly donuts from Dunkin'. My childhood diet was more reflective of my father's on-the-go eating habits than my mother's efforts to instill a love of nutrition in me).

And so my days went, placidly ebbing and flowing one into the next, until I started school and Daddy switched to a first-shift patrol that started well before I was supposed to wake and start my day. Supposed to wake being the key phrase. While I was now sleeping through the night, I still woke at the sound of a pin dropping...and upon waking, I wanted my juice.

"Juuuuuiiiiiccccceeeeee!!!! Juice, Daddy, Juice!" I would cry, waking the rest of the house with my high-pitched pleas. In short order, my father would arrive at my bedside with a small glass of juice and sit with me as I drank it. He would then kiss me on the top of the head, say his goodbyes, and leave for the day. This ritual continued for several years (until my parents divorced), and never once did it occur to me why my father would spend these few minutes with me every morning; I simply saw it as the natural order of things: I was Daddy's Little Girl - his Kimmy-Kat! - and it made him happy to bring me juice and sit with me each morning. Who was I to deny him this delight?

It wasn't until I was in high school that I realized the significance of the "morning juice ritual" my now absent father had faithfully performed all those years. I was doing an independent study in media and video production and my partner - another cop's kid (we tend to gravitate towards each other) - seemed a bit distracted, ignoring the major details of our project and honing on a micro-flicker - literally a 1/16th of a second tail that had missed being cut on an edit we had done a few weeks prior. As our mentor took the moment to educate us about how subliminal messages work, a feeling came over me like a punch to the gut: the prior day had been the 10th anniversary of the day my partner's Dad had "answered his final call" - police talk for when a fellow officer is killed in the line of duty or from injuries sustained while performing their duties. Not all Daddies come home at the end of watch.

I share this story not to highlight my life, but the lives of police officers and their families. At a time when people seek to make villains out of those who wear blue, I want to highlight the fact that there is a person behind the shield; a person with a spouse and children who live in the community they have sworn to protect. For them, it's not just a job - it's personal.

There are almost 1 million sworn officers of the law in the United States. Here is a sample of what they face, all for an average of $52,000/year, before overtime pay*:

• In 2018, 55 police officers were feloniously killed and 51 accidentally killed, for a total of 106 officers killed in the line of duty.

• There were 89 law enforcement officers killed in the line of duty in 2019 (48 felonious, 41 accidental). 

• As of this writing, 27 officers have been feloniously killed in the line of duty in 2020 (at this time last year it was 21)

• There were 58,866 assaults against law enforcement officers in 2018 alone, resulting in 18,005 sustained injuries serious enough to require medical attention and/or time out of work

• A total of 1,627 law enforcement officers died in the line of duty during the past 10 years, an average of one death every 54 hours or 163 per year. Their average age was 36.5 years

These stats represent only sworn officers of the law - not correctional officers, parole officers, court officers, private security officers, and many others who work to enforce the rules of a civil society.

I am not naive enough to believe that all officers are worthy of the badge they wear. I am aware that there are some who rush to judgement, who racially profile, who have PTSD so severe that it affects their ability to do their job properly. But I ask you to gather a group of 1 million people from any profession that serves the public - doctors, teachers, faith leaders, politicians, etc. - and find a group that is absent these same issues, along with the egregious results that sadly sometimes occur. 

I am not seeking to change the minds of those who demonize police; only to open their eyes to the other side of the story they judge, to inform them of all that it entails, and - if you are one of those who openly criticize police officers - to invite you to apply for the job yourself! 

KJM

07.01.2020

*Sources: National Law Enforcement Officers Memorial Fund, FBI Uniform Crime LEOKA Report