I was very frustrated and holding a weapon when I was met by two law enforcement officers.
The tire on my front passenger side had blown as I was traveling on the interstate, so I pulled over. Not much choice, right?
As I went through the rigamarole of changing the tire, nothing seemed to go right, or easy. I had finally gotten the new tire on and was tightening lug nuts when I heard something behind me.
I stood and turned at the same time and found myself looking at two highway patrolmen at the rear corner of my car.
I noticed a few things very quickly. One — blue lights from their patrol cars parked one behind the other. Two — the concerned look on their faces. Three — each had a hand resting on the butt of his holstered handgun.
I know I had a questioning look on my face. I could easily figure out that they’d stopped to check on a traveler who was having vehicle difficulties. That’s not unusual. I could understand concern on their faces because they didn’t yet know exactly what was going on.
But I wasn’t sure why they were touching their weapons.
It must have shown on my face, because the trooper closest to me pointed with his left hand at my right.
“Would you put that down, please?” he asked.
I looked down at the tire iron in my hand and realized what they were doing. They were being cautious.
“Oh, OK,” I said and put the tire iron on top of the blown out tire next to me, then kept my empty hands in sight at all times.
The officers immediately relaxed and asked me if I was OK. Did I need help changing the tire? Would I like one of them to remain behind me with lights on until the tire change was complete?
I thanked them for stopping, for checking on my welfare and for offering to help. I told them I was just doing a last check on lug nuts and about to load everything back up in the vehicle. They talked with me as I did those things and wished me a safe trip the rest of the way to my destination.
When I got back in the driver’s seat — and as I watched them pull away and wave — I realized my hands were shaking. My adrenaline was pumping hard. I’d been surprised and a little frightened by the encounter at first, and had not yet fully settled down.
When my breathing and heart rate evened out moments later, I pulled back into traffic and went on my way.
Those officers stopped that day because they saw a disabled vehicle on the shoulder of the interstate. If unattended (they might not have seen me yet) it was a potential hazard to travelers. If attended, the driver and possible passengers might need assistance.
If I’d had a medical episode, something that rendered me unconscious or unable to call for help in these days before the proliferation of cell phones, they could provide emergency assistance until paramedics arrived. If I had a physical problem that prevented me from changing a tire, or a broken drive belt that I couldn’t repair, or — you name it — then they could assist me by calling someone or by transporting me to the nearest safe location.
But when they arrived and saw a large frustrated young man holding a very probable weapon in his hand, they were right to be cautious. They were right to be prepared until they were certain there was no threat posed to their own safety. They were not only smart about what they were doing, they were compassionate and offered help more than once.
I appreciate that kind of officer.
Unfortunately, those kinds of officers are not what we see in national news lately. We see jittery, gung-ho officers who are either poorly trained or who poorly execute their office in the midst of tense situations. Some have made mistakes — horrible, regrettable, likely preventable mistakes. Others, it seems, are acting as if they are above the law.
But these are the few. They are the abnormalities. They are the proverbial rotting apples in a thousand barrels of good apples.
I cannot accurately imagine the stress law enforcement officers are under today. If you think you can, and you haven’t been an officer in any capacity, then you are simply wrong. You might can guess, but you can’t know. No more than you can know what it’s like to lose a home to fire, or to be shot, or to lose a child, if those things haven’t happened to you personally.
So as much as I mourn today the lives lost and irrevocably damaged by a few officers in our country who have abused their positions in any way, I am not naive enough, not blind enough, not prejudiced enough, not hateful enough to think that all officers are corrupt, or irresponsible or need to be done away with.
The majority of LEOs are trustworthy and want two things — to do their jobs to the best of their abilities and then to go home safely at the end of their shift to their homes, their pets, their families.
I don’t want to be needlessly dumped or lumped into categories because of my occupation, my skin color or any other category you can come up with.
I won’t do the same to all of our law enforcement officers.
Regardless of how you feel, I must insist that the best thing you can ever do for any one of these men and women — indeed, for anyone — is to pray for them.
