Highly recommended….. an essay from the blog of a Police Officer.
(Via DonOfAllTrades) I followed a trail of blood up the concrete steps as Deja vu overtook my thoughts.
I’d been here before, just a few short months ago, doing the same exact thing, following a trail of blood to an open front door.
As was the case then, on this night there had been another call for shots fired heard coming from the street.
A trail of blood, an open door and no body to be found.
Just like last time, the person was taken to the hospital by a friend, so we wait to hear from the hospital when they make their mandatory call about somebody coming into the emergency room with bullets in their body.
As I was checking the house for another injured or dead person, I couldn’t help but notice that the house was exactly as it had been before.
There was no furniture in the living room and there was trash all over the place. Paper plates with leftover food and cigarette butts littered the kitchen counter. The upstairs was where the televisions and furniture were kept. When you live in fear of drive by shootings, upstairs is the safer place to spend most of your time.
As I was leaving the kitchen, my eyes were drawn to the floor by a cockroach scurrying over a button, the kind that you can pin to your shirt to announce things like, “I voted” or “I gave blood!”
This button had a picture of Michael Brown on it and the words “Justice for Mike Brown” or some similar message around the photo.
There was something queer about the button being on this particular kitchen floor on this particular night, surrounded by roaches and drops of blood and dog shit as well.
I shook my head and left the house satisfied that nobody was dead or injured inside.
Just outside of Ferguson, life is going on.
The shootings and robberies and burglaries and car accidents and domestic incidents are still happening, and people are still calling for the police to come help them.
People still need our help, and we’re still providing it.
I’ve received many messages from people around the world asking me if I’m alright, asking whether or not I’ve been in Ferguson.
I am fine and I was up there for a little bit, yes, though not on the front lines of the chaos.
There seems to be a perception, outside of this area, that it’s a war zone here, that the whole region is in shambles.
I can see how a person might think such a thing. I mean, God forbid the national media folks take their cameras outside of the immediate area where all the trouble is happening to see that life is still being lived by decent folks, even just outside of Ferguson.
Just outside of Ferguson, here in St. Louis, I watched as several black kids played basketball in the street. They were the same kids I had watched playing ball several weeks ago.
The were playing with a basket that had a net attached to it. That’s a novelty in the city. (continue reading)