The Bad Day

It was a bad day.  I got a call from my husband while he was on duty.  He was stumbling over his words a little, yet he was relatively calm.  He managed to tell me that they had had a bad day.  "We had to shoot and kill someone," he said.  Dreaded words I never wanted to hear.  He proceed to instruct that no one contact him for the remainder of the day.  That's all he gave me, then he hung up.  

No details.  

I sent a group text message to my extended family members, asking for prayer.  I told them not to contact him and relayed that there had been a police-initiated shooting.  I told them I had no more details.  

For four hours, I nervously paced my home.  I cleaned.  I walked.  I fixed my hair, just in case.  I checked his location about a thousand times.  For a while, he was in a spot in the middle of town.  Obviously, that's where it happened.  Then he was at the station for a long time.  I assumed that paperwork was involved.  

Finally, his little dot started moving toward home.  It took forever to get here.  The garage opened and I met him at the door.  I didn't speak because I didn't know what to say.  He responded, "I'm not allowed to talk about it."  I replied, "OK, what do you need?  Do you want food?"  He said he was hungry, so I just tried to make him comfortable.  I asked if he was OK.  He said no.

How do you handle that?  This is something that most officers never have to deal with in their careers.  My guy hasn't even been on that force all that long, and his number has been called.  At this point, I don't even know if he is the one who shot, and I can't ask.

I got up the courage to say, "So they sent you home?"  He replied, "They sent everyone home.  I'm on administrative leave.  For 3 days."  My stomach sank.  I just sat by him, trying to silently support.  He looked better than I thought he would.

Thankfully, the kids weren't home.  I was glad he came home to a quiet environment.  They knew; my dad was here when I got the call and he talks too loudly.  I couldn't keep it from them.

After he ate and took a shower, he opened up a little more.  How can you not talk to your wife?  Thankfully, he was not the shooter.  He was right there, weapon drawn, but he didn't have a clear shot.  There were "ooglers" in the line of fire with their cell phone cameras rolling. 

PSA Announcement:  If you are reading this and you ever see a police officer with his weapon drawn, please put away your phone and get out of the way!  You are possibly in the line of fire and could be compromising the safety of yourself or others!

 Brothers in Blue started texting and calling.  Some of them went through me first, those who knew me well.  I appreciated that.  Two of them showed up on our doorstep that night; I invited them in.  Another called first, and we welcomed him over.  Those four sat at my dining room table for three hours.  They talked about everything from their jobs to movies.  He needed that.

It seemed like most people didn't know about it, only cops and city officials.  Fortunately, there was no media frenzy.  A wise person said it was because the entire situation was handled so properly.  Had the officers made a mistake or done something wrong, the media would have had a field day.  They keep quiet when everything is done decently and in order.  The man was extremely dangerous and he was going to kill someone that day- an innocent citizen, an officer...he didn't care.  It had to be done.  Because the officers did everything by the book, their body cam videos will likely be used for training purposes in the future.  That's nice to hear.

He had the BCI interview.  He returned to work.  The body cams were released to the public.  Life goes on. 

Some time has now passed since the event.  I had to write this post in stages; it was difficult.  It was taxing on our emotional health, our marriage, and our family.  Different aspects of it are now better, but he is still occasionally having the night terrors.  A few nights ago, I was awoken by my husband forcefully stating, "Drop it."  When that happens, I rub his arm and gently talk to him until I know he has come out of the dream.  He never remembers that the next day.  I can't convince him to see a therapist.  Believe me, I've pleaded.

 We have a lot of healing left.