As a police officer, it is my job to uphold the law. Despite having long tenure in this profession, I still must frequently remind myself of the importance of my role and responsibilities. Why is that? Because when I step outside of my duties in an ostentatious manner, it reflects poorly on me and the entire department. That’s what happened recently when one member laughed at a disabled person who was attempting to cross the street. I heard about this incident through our internal affairs division and made the decision to offer counseling services for this individual; meanwhile, termination proceedings are underway for these officers involved. As I talk about this with my assistant, we’re approached by a familiar face. It's an unfortunate occurrence in itself, but we're aware that the citizens in the neighborhood consider us heretics for not sharing their beliefs on such issues. When we turn around and identify our visitor, his expression changes from surprise to shock. We recognize him as one of the members involved in the incident with my co-worker. Now he's here to apologize? "You're a lot more suspicious than you claim to be," he says. He seems bitter about the whole situation, and it’s not hard for me to understand why. He's not only lost his job, but he has also branded himself as a target for hate groups. "I'm not trying to make excuses for what happened. I was the one who laughed at that poor man, but I also have my side of the story." "You've already given your side of the story enough times," I say. "Let’s just go ahead and get this over with." "Not yet," he says. "You're not going to let me talk to you until I give my version of events, so here it is. Unlike most people in our department, this officer didn't attend one of the top private schools in the city. In fact, he attended a public grammar school that taught kids like me." "You're not helping your case," I say. "We're all aware of your background, and we're not going to give you a chance to tell us your side of the story anymore." "The truth is that I didn't laugh at this man because he's disabled. I laughed because he was wearing a suit and tie. At first, I was embarrassed for him; however, as we continued conversing near the intersection, we discovered we had more in common than just our station. We both come from similar backgrounds and share similar opinions about life in the city–especially the current status quo. "I don't think that's enough to warrant such an occurrence," I say. "It isn't supposed to be," he says. "But you and I know that we're trained to anticipate situations like this and handle them accordingly." "You should have known better than to laugh at a man who is different than you," I say. "I'm surprised your co-workers even tolerated you after the incident happened." When I think about it, the way they handled this situation was rather unorthodox. Usually, we must suspend officers involved in such incidents; however, my assistant allowed the officer who laughed at the pedestrian to come back into work as if nothing had happened. 8eeb4e9f32 60
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