This past Tuesday as I was getting ready for all-day training for work, I pulled out one of my favorite t-shirts to wear. It’s a badass police shirt with “Everyone goes home” on the back. Except, I couldn’t bring myself to put it on. Because the reality was, not everyone went home the night before. Trooper Lucas Dowell never made it home. And an increasing number of police officers all over the county never make it home. Not everyone goes home.
I didn’t know Lucas personally. I had met him a time or two during the course of police work and found him to be competent with a great personality and smile. I watched the funeral yesterday through tears. I felt his sister’s pain over the loss of her brother and understood her desire to make sure people knew who Lucas was: his humor, his love for adventure, his big heart, and the bond they shared. She was so strong up there, honoring him, with the calm and determination only a big sister can have when she must protect and honor her little brother one last time through his memory.
I also felt the pain of his fellow troopers, his coworkers, his brothers and sisters in blue. I know how close they were, because I know how close I am to mine. I tear up when I even begin to think about what they are going through. I think that is every cop’s worse nightmare: to lose a fellow officer. I know it’s mine. I’ve already come to terms with my own mortality. I know that when I signed up to be a police officer, I signed up for inherent risks associated with the job. We all did. But that doesn’t change the pain of losing your brother or sister in blue. I admired, through tears, the way they honored him. Their vulnerability and courage to make sure he was remembered for the hero and shining light he was.
I have a lot of non-cops that have asked me why I’m so close to my coworkers. Group chats even when we are off. “Choir practice” aka drinks after work together. The fact we know so many intimate and even bizarre details about each other’s lives: our hopes, our fears, our joys. And that’s only the tip of the iceberg of our closeness. To an outsider, I suppose this could be strange. To be so close to “coworkers.” However, the truth is, these are no mere coworkers. These people are my family. My last defense. My sanity or insanity. My gym buddies. My rescue when shit hits the fan. My meal partners. My brothers and sisters. My listening ears after tough calls. My fellow comedians after ridiculous calls. The ones with which I get in and out of trouble. My lifelines in so many ways.
While you coworker might be there to save you from a spelling error on your presentation, mine is there to save my life. You count on your coworker that doesn’t hesitate to stay late to help you. I count on my coworkers to never hesitate to run toward danger when I need them. Your’s gives you some pointers to make your meeting better. Mine gives me pointers on how to make my officer safety better, which could save my life one day.
We are close because midnights are rough. Because 12 hours is a long time to spend together. Because seeing the worst this world has to offer together bonds you in ways you can’t imagine. Because you need someone to talk to after that last glimmer of hope dies when they call time of death for the infant you’ve been bagging and sending God desperate prayers for, and my coworkers actually understand. Because discussing where we are going to eat over a dead body is our normal. Because we have had to physically fight those who hoped to do us harm, together. Because we’ve worked straight nights together and laughed and bitched as we all seemed to be in court together all the time during the day only to have to work all night. Because it’s a calling. Because we don’t get paid nearly enough and yet still show up.
We are close, because we hunt the evil you pretend doesn’t exist, together.
Because we can sit in silence dead-tired together drinking coffee and be perfectly content together. Because we have the darkest humor you could imagine and find each other freaking hilarious. Because as much as we joke, when shit hits the fan, we are ready. We care. We go into the danger. And we know it’s real danger. We know there are plenty of people hoping to harm or kill us. We know at any moment, simply because of the badge on our chest, someone might target us. And we know we are going to do our damnest to make sure we all go home at the end of the night. But we know it’s a real chance that someone might not. That’s why we are close as if our lives depended on it, because sometimes it does. We are close, because these tragedies do happen. Because Trooper Lucas Dowell gave his life for his friends and his community. “Greater love hath no man than to give his life for his friends.”
For those reading this blog, take a minute to pray for his family, blood and blue. Pray for healing as they try to make sense of their life after this hero’s greatest sacrifice. Pray for peace and hope for them. Thank you, Lucas Dowell for your ultimate sacrifice. Thank you for giving your life to help keep your community, me included, safe. Rest easy, hero. We will hold the line from here.
“Behind my badge is a heart like yours. I bleed, I think, I love, and yes, I can be killed. And although I am but one man, I have thousands of brothers and sisters who would die for me and I for them. We stand watch together. I am fate with a badge and a gun. The Thin-Blue-Line, protecting the prey from the predators, the good from the bad. We are the Police.” – End of Watch
Courage Found in Unlikely Places 