December 5, 2005

The Tooth Fairy Died Today

By David Watts

We stood facing each other, about twenty feet apart, like a showdown from some western. The wind blew about us, kicking up a dust storm that caught the open eye by surprise. My holster was unsnapped and at the ready. He stood with a knife in his right hand and maintained a look of defiance to my command to lay it down. He was six-foot-four and to my five-foot-ten, he looked pretty large. This truly was a standoff. It happens from time to time. Only, this was not a �made up� tale of the old west. It was now. And I was alone to face this person. Alone on a mountaintop, near the cabin where he lived. Alone, that is, until my backup arrived from some 20 miles away.

�I didn�t call you and I don�t want you here. This is none of your business�, said the man. Even though his eyes were opened and pointed in my direction, they weren�t �looking� at me. Black, dark, and cold, they seemed to look right through me.

�You�re wife called. She�s worried about you and doesn�t want anyone to get hurt�, I replied. �Especially you�, I added as I thought to myself about how huge this guy was and the reality of who was really at odds for injury. In spite of this, I continued, �And I�m not going away until you drop that knife and we figure out what�s bugging you today. You know I can�t leave. So, let�s make things right.� He stood there, blank faced and yet angry at the same time.

Next, he suddenly took a step forward, toward me. �Eric!�, I said, with a short, quick, loud tone. Hearing his name shouted out at him obviously connected and he jerked straight up and looked me in the eyes. This time, he looked. I could feel his gaze and I know he also saw my right hand as it positioned itself at the ready along side my holster. �Think about what�s going on here. You don�t want me around, but I�m here. And I�m not leaving until you put that knife down and we talk about what�s bugging you today.� �We don�t need you�, he said in an almost angry tone. �Maybe you don�t, but she does� I said, as I motioned to his two year old daughter. About that same time, she began wiggling around to get a more comfortable position in his grasping left arm. Fortunately, she was too scared to cry. I needed to keep his eyes on me. Undistracted.

�Eric. There�s no way I�m gonna leave you here, holding a knife in one hand and your daughter in the other.� His eyes still connected to mine and I continued, �I have a little girl too. They�re beautiful. Aren�t they? I know you love her. I know you�re angry with your wife, not her. Put her down. Talk with me. If someone�s done you wrong, I�m here to help. I wanna help you.� Yeah, he was holding his little girl.

I had to convince him that I was there for �him�, a task not very easy. I had to show him, who was in charge, yet, almost comfort him, so as not to add to his anger. I had to get him to put the knife down. I had to calm him and get him to set his daughter to the ground, so she could walk away. I had to ignore his wife�s presence, just behind him at their front door and I had to do this without a partner. I had to make him think, no, make him know, that I was in charge and I was going to win this �stand-off�. We were there �now� and there�s no pause button once things like this get started.

Command presence. The Policeman�s best weapon. No matter what the situation. As long as they know who�s in charge, you�re okay. I mean, come on, he�s Goliath and I�m David. Who would you bet on? Actually, who would �he� bet on? If I handle myself correctly, he�s gonna bet on me. That�s my job. That little girl, heck, we both depend on it. It�s not a bad time to ask God to stand beside me either. I did.

In time, he put his daughter down and she scampered off to Mom. With a slight struggle, I was able to take him into custody without any of us getting hurt and all at about the time another Officer arrived to assist. After booking him, a whole two hours had gone by in my twelve-hour shift. Ten hours to go.

2

Dispatch advised that a vehicle collision had just occurred and that I was next up for the call. I responded and upon arrival found two cars smashed together so tightly that it was difficult to tell where one began and the other ended. From inside the mangled mess, I could see a child�s car seat. It was squeezed between two chunks of car, with barely enough room to reach my arm into. With my heart racing at about 200 beats a minute, I looked inside. I couldn�t swallow.

Only a pink teddy bear was visible. No body, no blood, and worst of all, no sound. No sound that is, except for the stuck looping repetition of a CD in one of the car stereos of Jose Feliciano singing, �Felice Navidad�, over and over again. And, of course, there was no way to turn it off. As I stood wondering where next to check, I am startled by a peck at my shoulder. I turn to a young woman, holding a baby, who says, �we�re over here�. I look to where she pointed and saw an elderly couple standing along side the roadway. Although shaken up, no one was injured in the collision. If you had seen those cars, you wouldn�t have believed it. Sometimes, it just works out that way.

Stress under control, and report completed, I head on along into my work day.

3

As I drove around town, I came to an intersection and stopped for the light. As I waited for my turn to go, a car, a large car, came barreling through the intersection at a very high rate of speed and barely made the turn as it drove past and on ahead of me. Up ahead, I saw sparks fly from underneath the large car, maybe it was a boat it was so big, as it bottomed out onto the pavement. I had to stop this shipwreck in the making.

I pulled up behind the car, told dispatch where I was and what I was stopping, then turned on my red and blue Police lights and tooted the siren to announce my presence. After driving a bit further, I sounded the siren again, but the car only slowed and didn�t yield to my request to pull over. Further down the road still and no stop.

Normally, at this point things would seem to be headed in the direction of a pending pursuit. Except, �normally�, the car being pursued would be attempting to evade the Police, not slowing down and continuing along. �Do I call in a pursuit?� I thought to myself. We�re only going 20 miles per hour. I could only see that the car was occupied by a single person, that being the driver. At least, that is all I could see. I don�t know why, but probably because there was not a single other car in sight and it was broad daylight and, I don�t know what else. I didn�t get too excited about this �pursuit�. I didn�t even tell dispatch that we hadn�t stopped yet. I don�t know why. I just didn�t.

After about three miles of knuckle clinching high speed, you could get out of the car and walk faster, Police chasing, the car pulled to the side of the road and stopped.

As I got out of my Police car and started toward the car in front of me, I heard the long creaking ratchet sound of the emergency break from hell being applied. Actually, it sounded more like an anchor being dropped. I mean, this car was huge.

Slowly, I approached the driver�s side window, because you never really know what you�re headed for. As I arrive at the door, a blood-curdling screech begins to climb down my spine. You know, that sound of fingernails raking across a chalkboard. It�s the window rolling down. Not a very clean window.

It�s now, that I see who�s been running away from me.

Seated behind the wheel is a large, red headed, elderly lady, who would be best described as �Lucy� on steroids. She�s wearing sunglasses the size of her steering wheel and almost has trouble holding up her head with them on. I greet her and in return, she looks toward me and lets out a prolonged whine of a sound. I ask her why she drove through the intersection at such a high speed and then drove �forever� so slow. Still crying, she said, �I�m sorry. I just can�t get over my husband dying. I miss him so much.�

In spite of the comical nature of the stop, my heart softened. I said, �I�m sorry to hear of your husbands� passing. That�s something difficult for us all to bear. But, your grieving seems to be too much of a distraction for you to be driving and maybe you have someone else drive you for the time being.� �Oh, you may be right. I just can�t get over it. I can�t stop crying.�

I asked her for her driver�s license. She fumbled through her purse, yes, it was a huge purse, and handed it to me. �I see here on your license, that you�re not far from home Ms. Fitzgerald. I suggest that you go there and not drive until you�re a little more together�, I said. �Ohhhhh, I just can�t believe he�s dead. I can�t believe it�, she cried (literally).

Well, I wasn�t about to write a ticket to a grieving woman who just lost her husband. I handed her license back to her and asked, �When did he die�?

�Seventeen years ago last summer�, she said.

What could I say to that? I walked back to my car and drove away.

Lunchtime arrived none too soon. I brought my lunch that day, so I found a place to park and, under the shade of a tree, began to snack on a sandwich. After about twenty minutes or so, I heard this sound. A familiar sound, but I couldn�t place it. Then, as I looked up to see what it was, I was also reminded of the source of the sound. Barreling toward me, down the very same road as before, was Ms. Fitzgerald, in her boat.

What the hell? Vaaarrrooom! Past me she sails. And, it�s off to the races I go. Again.

This time, it isn�t long before Ms. Fitzgerald navigates her barge to the right shoulder and docks it to a stop. I get out of my car and, this time, not too cautiously approach her door. Screeeech, creeek, ratchet goes the brake and window. I get to the window and say, �Alright Ms. Fitzgerald, what�s the problem now?!�

�I can�t see with these sunglasses on�, she cries out loudly. �How can I be expected to see, with these things on?� she asks.

�Why don�t you take them off?� I asked.

�Then, how will I see?�

After an eternity of silence, I walked back to my car, got out my ticket book, and wrote her a speeding ticket. After completing the ticket, I walked back up to her window to get her signature. As I approached, I again heard another familiar sound. �Ohhhhhhhh�, loudly cried Ms. Fitzgerald, from inside her car. I looked in at her and saw that she was, once again, crying to no end. �You need to sign here, Ma�am�, I said, pointing to the citation. As she signed, �OOOHHHhhhhhh�, cried Ms. Fitzgerald, even louder than before. �What�s wrong? I asked as I handed her a copy of the cite.

� I just can�t believe he�s dead. I just can�t believe it.�

�Get over it�, I said, walked back to my car, and drove away.

As I drove away, the sound of Ms. Fitzgerald�s� crying sounded like a train passing with it�s horn blowing. The radio sounded and I had another call to go to. So much for lunch.

4

The call was to meet with a county employee at a nearby intersection. I wondered to myself as to why the Sheriff could possibly be in town. It took me a few minutes to arrive and as I did, I saw a county car, but it wasn�t the Sheriff. It was a white unmarked county vehicle. As I pulled up, a friendly face got up and out of the car. It was someone I�d known for years. It was good to have friends in this line of work and when they�re from another agency, it�s even better when bridging that inter-agency gap.

�Hey Kevin�, I said, as I approached him. �Hi�, he replied, with a breath taking silence that immediately followed.

�What�s up?�, I asked.

�I need you to go with me to a house down the street�, Kevin said and he looked into a file of papers that he was holding. I didn�t like the feeling I was getting from Kevin�s demeanor. He�s usually a very �up� person, almost jokingly so, but this time he was much too somber for fun and games. �Where we going?�, I asked. He pointed to an address written in his notes. I nodded and we got back into our cars and headed away. �I wouldn�t want to do his job�, I thought to myself as we drove. I know people say the same thing about being a cop, but a coroner, that�s not a fun job.

We arrived at the front of the house and got out to talk again.

This was the Todd house. Steven Todd and his wife, Kathryn had gone to a concert at the county fair that afternoon. After the concert, they decided to go out to eat, since they didn�t get out very often after the twins were born. Running a family of five can be quite the job, so a break was very welcomed to Mom and Dad. God, however, apparently had other plans for the Todds this day and in a sudden and quick moment He called them home. Both Steven and Kathryn perished in a vehicle accident near the fairgrounds. Our, job, was to let Kathryn�s Mother, who was in the home babysitting the kids, know of this tragedy.

It�s times like this that make you think things like, �can�t she just find out by the news, or some other way�? But we know the answer. This is just part of the job.

Although it�s one of the most difficult things a Police Officer has to do, it�s also easy. I mean, it�s not difficult. At least, not physically. Emotionally, it is awful. You know why? In all the good, and the bad, we all have some faction of association with one another that keeps us connected. Because, once you have a family, you can�t help but associate yourself with everyone you come in contact with. And we all have a family from the time we are born. See? Families aren�t created. We�re born into them. So, even a single person has family. We all can relate, even if we�re not related.

Death notifications. There�s an irony in relating this type of information to another person. In fact, ninety-nine times out of one hundred, �they� tell you what has happened. Sadly, when the knock at the door is answered and you see the likes of us two standing there, you can�t help but think that the worst has happened. I don�t how how many times I�ve approached a house, to be greeted with, �Oh, my God. Is everything alright?� In this case, the answer would be no.

We rang the doorbell and, after about three years passed, a well-dressed woman answered the door. Standing in the doorway, with a burping towel draped over both shoulders, she said, �Hi Officers. I�m sorry for the attire, but I just fed the twins and put them down for the evening.�

�May we come in Ma�am?�, asked Kevin.

She looked us over quickly. Me in uniform and Kevin in suit and tie. Then, as if it were scripted, she said, �Oh, my God. Is everyone alright?�

We walked inside and migrated over to an arrangement of sofas and chairs in their living room. As we sat down, she again asked, �Is anyone hurt?�

Now, here�s where it strangely works its ways. To answer, no, would take us into no-man�s land, as the possible reasons for our presence would be innumerable. But, to answer in the more affirmative, even without directly saying yes, leads a person to the inevitable.

�Well, there�s been an accident�, said Kevin.

�Kath, and,�are they okay?�

�It�s not pleasant news Ma�am.�

�They�re dead? Oh, my God!�

From here, there are a number of things that might occur. With me however, it always seems to end up in a hug. I cannot think of anything other than to hold someone at these times. It�s almost like I�m literally keeping them from exploding. They just, eventually, relax and you know it�s time to let go. Strange. It�s never intrusive or uncomfortable. It just happens.

As we sat talking, the conversation flip-flopped back and forth between relating uncomfortable details, which was Kevin�s job, and listening to fond recollections and funny stories about the two, which was my job. As time passed, the tension lessoned, and conversation became easier. This wouldn�t be the time to mourn. That will come later, and is best done by each individual person, in his or her own way.

We all have to, at some point in life, experience the loss of a loved one. But we only have so many family members. Over the career of a Police Officer, this experience can occur many more times. I sat there, feeling relieved, that the worst part of the visit had passed. It may seem selfish, but this was not an easy thing to do. As questions got answered and the news started to settle in, it was feeling appropriate to prepare to leave.

I sat there, taking in the moment with a heavy heart, when all of sudden I felt a presence from behind me. This was immediately confirmed by the startled look on the faces of those next to me. My mind began to race. I started to take inventory of those present. Let�s see, Kevin told me that the Todds had twins. Infant twins. He told me that Grandma was babysitting. He told me�he told me�he said that they had gone out for a break because running a family of five can be �

My heart must have stopped. I know it did. I turned around and saw standing before me, a young boy wearing snoopy pajamas.

�Uh, hi. What�s you�re name?� I asked.

�Are you a cop?� said the boy.

�I sure am�, I said, as he walked past me and toward his Grandma. As he passed he said, �I wanna be a fireman.�

For a couple of minutes, nothing was said by anyone in the room. We all just sat there. Staring at him.

Like the day started, I found myself looking at a person, holding a child, only this time, the �knife� was in my hands. No matter what I said from here on out, would cut into my memory with a profound permanence. I was speechless. All I could say was, �what�s your name?�

The boy walked up to me, placed his hand on my knee and said, �William. What�s your name?�

At least, I think that�s what he said because when he touched my knee, I knew where that �knife� was, as it felt like my heart was split in two. The shock of numbness that this little boy injected into me paralyzed me from head to toe. I immediately thought vivid thoughts of my children and how they might appear to someone delivery the same message that I came to deliver. I felt three dimensional and as if I weren�t there, but watching from a distance. And, in spite of my numbing reaction, I still formulated an answer to his question and I said, �Daddy.�

Hearing that word come from my mouth, immediately brought me back to reality and, there we were, with William, standing tall before me and looking up into my eyes. Where was my command presence now? Who was gonna win this battle? This was not a bad time to ask God to stand beside me. And I did.

�I have a Daddy,� he said.

�Yes. You do,� I said. And he smiled. That smile soon turned to a grin and as he looked up at me I could see a space where a tooth once rested in the middle of that grin. And as if he could read my mind, he said, �I�m six. And the tooth fairy is coming tonight.�

All I could think to do, was reach out to him and pull him into my arms. For the next minute, I squeezed that kid like he was my own. Then, as though it were planned, I reached into my pocket and pulled out a dollar bill. I reached out and handed him the dollar and said, �I ran into the tooth fairy earlier and she told me to give you this because she won�t be coming tonight.�

�Why not?�, asked William.

At that very moment, Grandma reached over and tugged William back over to her side and said, �Wasn�t that nice of the tooth fairy to make sure you weren�t missed? But now, it�s time for the Police Officers to go back to work.�

I looked up at her and said thank you, without saying a word.

What could I have said to this little boy? When he asked why the tooth fairy wasn�t coming, what was my answer? Certainly not the �truth�. What would you say?

After doing what we could, we left the residence. All I could think of was getting home to hug my own children. But, not before the sound of reality appeared once more. Another radio call. This time, to a family argument.

I cannot tell you how petty their fighting over �he said, she said, she did, he did� sounded. The things we people allow to get under our skin is amazing. I do it too. We all do. It�s just life.

The next time you�re watching the news, or actually seeing a Police Officer in action, stop to think what might be going through they�re mind. It may be important, but it�s just a job. They�re people too. Police Officers are �story tellers�. That�s what their reports reflect. They�re not triers of the facts. That�s for the courts to do. They aren�t out there taking you personally, so don�t judge them either.

There are a lot of professions in this world. And there are many different opinions about the people in them. True, some people do their jobs better than others. And, some just do what they need to get by and provide for their families. In fact, in the end, that�s what it really comes down to for most of us. We work to provide for our families and ourselves. Enjoying what you do makes it all the better.

Police Officers, in particular, are often the focus of opinion, both good and bad. And, yes, there are some who excel at Police work above others. And, yes, there are even �bad� cops. But, these are few and far between and removed at the moment they are recognized. Usually, the loudest voices against the Police are those who�ve encountered them from the wrong side of the law. Really, it�s that way in all things that we encounter. Our perspectives and actions are molded and shaped by the way we approach our daily activities. It doesn�t take a hard look to see the thoughts and opinions of someone, as they usually accompany they way they act and speak.

In the end, a person is a person and a job is a job. The job doesn�t reflect on the person, the person reflects on the job and their performance is the review.

Being a Police Officer is just a job. And thank God, that someone is willing to do it. If you�re of the mind to persist in criticizing the Police, and continually create standards with which to measure their existence, then you�d better be prepared to answer the following question: Are you willing to be the one who tells a child that the tooth fairy died?

Text � copyright 2003 - 2008 The Homespun Philosopher

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