Open Letter to the Police Critics

To the politicians, pundits, and everyone else who seem to know so much about police work and how the job should be done. I challenge you, if you know so much, set aside what you are doing, put on the uniform you seem so know so much about, and walk some of the streets I have walked, alone, like I did.

Listen to vile comments of the residents, whom you are there to protect. Who despise you, not because of anything you have done, but because of what you are wearing. You will learn what racism is truly about.

I want you to share your experiences with me. Tell me how it felt to have someone point a gun at you or have some savage throw a battery off the roof at you. Not for anything you have done, but for what you represent.

Hold a mother in your arms as she grieves over the loss of her child, not at your hands, but at the hands of a criminal. Just another nightly statistic not worthy of a mention on the 11 o'clock news.

Live with eight hours of man's inhumanity to man, then go home and try to shield the pain and hurt in your eyes from your family. Listening to their 'complaints' while trying to block out the image of the dying child's last gasps.

When you have done that, I would be more than happy to listen to you tell me how to do the job better. Until then, why don't you try sitting safely on the sidelines with your mouths shut.

You see, you don't know me. You don't know anything about who I am or what I am capable of, but I know you. You are one of the protected. A sheep who lives his life in tranquility, because I, along with my brothers and sisters, are willing to put ourselves between you and the wolves who lie in wait.

We listen to your criticisms, yet when the time comes, and the wolves attack, you run away, while we run towards them. You hide behind the very people you seem to despise because you know that we, unlike the wolves, will not turn on you.

We are the thin blue line that separates you from the danger. On Saturday, that line grew a bit thinner when we lost two of our brothers, but not our resolve. We will not yield that line, we will not falter, despite the baseless accusations and vile rhetoric that you spew forth. We will uphold that oath we took, to the last man and woman.

Then, when the day comes that we are no more, you will truly learn who the real enemy was.

"It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat." - President Theodore Roosevelt (NYC Police Commissioner, 1985)