The following is an editorial column stemming from an incident where the Laramie Chief of Police apperantly left his sidearm in the restroom of a local restaraunt where it was discovered by another patron.
The text has been dictated faithfully by myself.
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Police officers are only human
by Jim Geeting
I’ve been hit in the gut by the same bullet, I waxed nostalgic and grinned in fraternal benevolence last week when I read of the chief of police in Laramie leaving his gun behind in the bathroom at a local eatery. It seems he used the restroom and left his gun there when he went back to work. Another patron found it and reported it, whereupon officers quickly recovered the weapon and returned it to the boss without incident. The report was that the chief wrote himself a reprimand and it was accepted by the City Council.
While most cops who’ve been there will never admit it, the number of professional and otherwise well-disciplined peace officers who’ve left their sidearm behind would amaze you. If they were lucky, no one but their spouse or partner found out. But, as you can now see, should the press to find out, the public embarrassment of being featured in the paper, can stop the heart and humiliate them like nothing else.
On its surface, it might appear to the lay person that for a police officer to misplace or forget his sidearm might be the epitome of unprofessional conduct. It is not. It is an unintentional human failure. It happens. Fact is, I always considered myself a good cop as did, I hope, those I served and those I served with.
Guess what?
Once I had an occasion to receive a panicked call from my wife at home, a few minutes after leaving for work. She asked if I was …uh… missing something?
Or, there was the time I had just finished breakfast in a busy restaurant with three other troopers when one looked over at me, leaned over and quietly whispered, “Hey dumb$^%$, where’s your gun?” Knowing by his tone my holster was empty, I rapidly left for home without even looking down.
There was also one occasion where, indeed, my gun was properly secured in its holster, but …uh… the bullets were, uh, back on my reloading bench at home! Using proper gun cleaning safety precautions the night before, I had removed my magazine and the round in the barrel and had placed them in another room, forgetting to reload my weapon when I placed it back in my gun lock-up for the evening.
Next day, I retrieved my gun and placed it in its holster, again spacing out the step of reloading. I discovered my empty, and thus useless, weapon after making three traffic stops that next day. I shivered in a moment of terror in the privacy of my patrol car as I quickly removed a spare magazine from my magazine pouch and slipped it until I heard the solid and oddly reassuring “click” of the magazine lock. I racked one into the pipe and again, drove home without passing go to get my extra ammo. No one ever knew about this until, well, just now. You have an exclusive.
Before you judge me or, the chief, remember that I’ve stressed over and over again one simple truth about cops. No matter their rank, standing, seniority or popularity, the sad truth is that cops are recruited from the human race. All of them – even the brass. As humans, things happen. Imperfections. Flaws.
In law enforcement, like any other calling, these imperfections of the human mind are always lurking nearby. Like the surgeon who leaves an instrument inside a patient or amputates the wrong limb. Like the prosecutor; who vigorously and maniacally puts away a man for murder who never stops screaming from the mountain tops he is innocent; only, to find out three years after he is executed that he was telling the truth.
Finally, remember this: In my case, I prepared for work, had bullets in place, donned my ballistic armor and went out the door to protect you, approximately 5,000 times. I forgot my gun twice. I forgot my ammo, once.
While I (nor, I assume the Chief of the Laramie Police Department) am not particularly proud of these shortcomings, I humbly hold them out there in the light of day, for all to see. I claim my imperfect membership in the family of man and ask the public to keep this perspective in mind when judging anyone who would lay down his life, for yours.
Jim Geeting is a retired Wyoming state trooper and author: Visit http://jimgeeting.com
Source: Rock Springs Daily Rocket-Miner, Tuesday and Wednesday Dec. 27 & 28, 2005, page 1B, Editorial column "The Badge" by Jim Geeting
The text has been dictated faithfully by myself.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Police officers are only human
by Jim Geeting
I’ve been hit in the gut by the same bullet, I waxed nostalgic and grinned in fraternal benevolence last week when I read of the chief of police in Laramie leaving his gun behind in the bathroom at a local eatery. It seems he used the restroom and left his gun there when he went back to work. Another patron found it and reported it, whereupon officers quickly recovered the weapon and returned it to the boss without incident. The report was that the chief wrote himself a reprimand and it was accepted by the City Council.
While most cops who’ve been there will never admit it, the number of professional and otherwise well-disciplined peace officers who’ve left their sidearm behind would amaze you. If they were lucky, no one but their spouse or partner found out. But, as you can now see, should the press to find out, the public embarrassment of being featured in the paper, can stop the heart and humiliate them like nothing else.
On its surface, it might appear to the lay person that for a police officer to misplace or forget his sidearm might be the epitome of unprofessional conduct. It is not. It is an unintentional human failure. It happens. Fact is, I always considered myself a good cop as did, I hope, those I served and those I served with.
Guess what?
Once I had an occasion to receive a panicked call from my wife at home, a few minutes after leaving for work. She asked if I was …uh… missing something?
Or, there was the time I had just finished breakfast in a busy restaurant with three other troopers when one looked over at me, leaned over and quietly whispered, “Hey dumb$^%$, where’s your gun?” Knowing by his tone my holster was empty, I rapidly left for home without even looking down.
There was also one occasion where, indeed, my gun was properly secured in its holster, but …uh… the bullets were, uh, back on my reloading bench at home! Using proper gun cleaning safety precautions the night before, I had removed my magazine and the round in the barrel and had placed them in another room, forgetting to reload my weapon when I placed it back in my gun lock-up for the evening.
Next day, I retrieved my gun and placed it in its holster, again spacing out the step of reloading. I discovered my empty, and thus useless, weapon after making three traffic stops that next day. I shivered in a moment of terror in the privacy of my patrol car as I quickly removed a spare magazine from my magazine pouch and slipped it until I heard the solid and oddly reassuring “click” of the magazine lock. I racked one into the pipe and again, drove home without passing go to get my extra ammo. No one ever knew about this until, well, just now. You have an exclusive.
Before you judge me or, the chief, remember that I’ve stressed over and over again one simple truth about cops. No matter their rank, standing, seniority or popularity, the sad truth is that cops are recruited from the human race. All of them – even the brass. As humans, things happen. Imperfections. Flaws.
In law enforcement, like any other calling, these imperfections of the human mind are always lurking nearby. Like the surgeon who leaves an instrument inside a patient or amputates the wrong limb. Like the prosecutor; who vigorously and maniacally puts away a man for murder who never stops screaming from the mountain tops he is innocent; only, to find out three years after he is executed that he was telling the truth.
Finally, remember this: In my case, I prepared for work, had bullets in place, donned my ballistic armor and went out the door to protect you, approximately 5,000 times. I forgot my gun twice. I forgot my ammo, once.
While I (nor, I assume the Chief of the Laramie Police Department) am not particularly proud of these shortcomings, I humbly hold them out there in the light of day, for all to see. I claim my imperfect membership in the family of man and ask the public to keep this perspective in mind when judging anyone who would lay down his life, for yours.
Jim Geeting is a retired Wyoming state trooper and author: Visit http://jimgeeting.com
Source: Rock Springs Daily Rocket-Miner, Tuesday and Wednesday Dec. 27 & 28, 2005, page 1B, Editorial column "The Badge" by Jim Geeting