No Policing to Do
My partner Donnie spit out the window, adjusted his body in the worn leather, and clipped up his empty gun belt -a habit he still retained even though cops hadn’t used guns in over five years.
“Hey look at that smuck,” he grunted, nudging his head down a dingy gray road. “another aggravated assault.”
I looked at where he pointed and watched a scene fold out which had become all too common these last few days. Some guy -a tall skinny black man- was throwing a woman on the ground and yanking at a small purse.
Donnie moved his hand to open the car door and head towards the action but then stopped.
“Nah man, the guy’s got a gun. We’d only get killed.” He swore and spit out the window again.
I sighed, feeling the same frustration. I could hear the woman screaming like a banshee.
“We couldn’t arrest him anyhow. Chicago Penitentiary already got three-eighty darkies and three-eighty crackers. Can’t make it uneven, Donnie-boy. We’d get thrown under the bus if we tried.”
Donnie passed a hand through his hair and looked back at me.
“Why the hell are we still cops man? We can’t do nothing’; we can’t not do nothing’. Either way we get yelled at. It’s not like we’re making cash worth anything.”
I didn’t answer, but instead started the car and drove off -leaving the woman to her assailant. There was silence for a few minutes. The car smelled like sweat and oil. We passed the Ecclesiastical Equal Community church. Two gays sat in front of the derelict building looking half-dead. Probably no job, no food, no home.
“Heard terrorists bombed Atlanta yesterday. The Pres’ says they’re shocked and all, but he always says that and nothing’ gets fixed.” Donnie mumbles, forcing me to at last look away from the window and focus on the road. There was nothing happy to see out there.
“Nothin’ gets fixed.” I coughed out. “Should make that into a bumper sticker and put it on the car.”
Donnie laughed. The car became silent again. Nothing on the com. Nothing to report that we could actually fix and deal with. The last ‘assignment’ we had was breaking up a fight between two street dogs in front of a shut-down grocery store.
“What happened man?” Donnie asked suddenly- his voice betraying a hint of pain.
“When’d we lose?” He waved his arms around, indicating outside. “Everything?”
“Remember the Civil war?” I asked. “Two sides- largest amount of casualties ever estimated. We almost destroyed our own country then. Well, you look back ten-fifteen years ago; we don’t have two sides. We have thousands. Tens of thousands. Everybody with their own belief and opinion. Everybody screaming out that someone else was depriving them; destroying their ‘freedom’. Demanding justice. Demanding everyone to conform to their ways. Remember- we hardly made it when there was only two sides.”
Donnie sighed and unclipped his gun belt again. I continued.
“We were fighting; arguing. We thought everyone was the enemy. We just didn’t look at the real problems.
“Remember when the economy crashed? The national debt? I thought we would realize it then. Come together a little bit maybe. No. We only argued more. Pointed the finger more. We focused on these stupid little things and blew them up into huge problems. Found fault when there was none.”
Donnie scoffed and clipped his gunbelt back. He suddenly nodded his head out the window.
“Lookie-there. White teen shooting up right on the street. Where the hell you figure he got the stuff? No one’s got drugs anymore.”
“Stole it.” I shrugged.
“Can we bag him?”
I nodded. “Yeah, Berkley Juvie’s got a white-teenage spot. We can fill it in. You know- make the numbers even so no one thinks we’re discriminating or profiling.”
Donnie nodded back. “Well let’s do this and head back to the station. Maybe the chief will let us go early today.”
I chuckled. “Maybe.”
“Hey look at that smuck,” he grunted, nudging his head down a dingy gray road. “another aggravated assault.”
I looked at where he pointed and watched a scene fold out which had become all too common these last few days. Some guy -a tall skinny black man- was throwing a woman on the ground and yanking at a small purse.
Donnie moved his hand to open the car door and head towards the action but then stopped.
“Nah man, the guy’s got a gun. We’d only get killed.” He swore and spit out the window again.
I sighed, feeling the same frustration. I could hear the woman screaming like a banshee.
“We couldn’t arrest him anyhow. Chicago Penitentiary already got three-eighty darkies and three-eighty crackers. Can’t make it uneven, Donnie-boy. We’d get thrown under the bus if we tried.”
Donnie passed a hand through his hair and looked back at me.
“Why the hell are we still cops man? We can’t do nothing’; we can’t not do nothing’. Either way we get yelled at. It’s not like we’re making cash worth anything.”
I didn’t answer, but instead started the car and drove off -leaving the woman to her assailant. There was silence for a few minutes. The car smelled like sweat and oil. We passed the Ecclesiastical Equal Community church. Two gays sat in front of the derelict building looking half-dead. Probably no job, no food, no home.
“Heard terrorists bombed Atlanta yesterday. The Pres’ says they’re shocked and all, but he always says that and nothing’ gets fixed.” Donnie mumbles, forcing me to at last look away from the window and focus on the road. There was nothing happy to see out there.
“Nothin’ gets fixed.” I coughed out. “Should make that into a bumper sticker and put it on the car.”
Donnie laughed. The car became silent again. Nothing on the com. Nothing to report that we could actually fix and deal with. The last ‘assignment’ we had was breaking up a fight between two street dogs in front of a shut-down grocery store.
“What happened man?” Donnie asked suddenly- his voice betraying a hint of pain.
“When’d we lose?” He waved his arms around, indicating outside. “Everything?”
“Remember the Civil war?” I asked. “Two sides- largest amount of casualties ever estimated. We almost destroyed our own country then. Well, you look back ten-fifteen years ago; we don’t have two sides. We have thousands. Tens of thousands. Everybody with their own belief and opinion. Everybody screaming out that someone else was depriving them; destroying their ‘freedom’. Demanding justice. Demanding everyone to conform to their ways. Remember- we hardly made it when there was only two sides.”
Donnie sighed and unclipped his gun belt again. I continued.
“We were fighting; arguing. We thought everyone was the enemy. We just didn’t look at the real problems.
“Remember when the economy crashed? The national debt? I thought we would realize it then. Come together a little bit maybe. No. We only argued more. Pointed the finger more. We focused on these stupid little things and blew them up into huge problems. Found fault when there was none.”
Donnie scoffed and clipped his gunbelt back. He suddenly nodded his head out the window.
“Lookie-there. White teen shooting up right on the street. Where the hell you figure he got the stuff? No one’s got drugs anymore.”
“Stole it.” I shrugged.
“Can we bag him?”
I nodded. “Yeah, Berkley Juvie’s got a white-teenage spot. We can fill it in. You know- make the numbers even so no one thinks we’re discriminating or profiling.”
Donnie nodded back. “Well let’s do this and head back to the station. Maybe the chief will let us go early today.”
I chuckled. “Maybe.”
