The Russian and the Nazarene were dispatched to a domestic disturbance- the bi-polar daughter was off of her medication. I was around the corner, so I swung by to assist if needed.
The 20-year-old girl sat on the concrete porch, an almost indiscernible stream of babble bubbling from her lips, high-pitched chatter interspersed with rare phrases of clarity- profanity and threats and allegations of abuse among the screams. The Russian and the Nazarene spoke to her like someone speaks to a kitten, soothing, almost child-like tones as she cried and screamed back. I thought surely this was heading towards a use of force. But rationalizing with the irrational, they talked her into an awaiting ambulance, despite her prior threats that she absolutely wasn’t going to go.
No one stood around with iPhones raised, recording the incident. It won’t play on the evening news. No headlines tomorrow will read, “Cops calm bi-polar woman down, no force needed”. It was a routine call, like a thousand cops handle a thousands times a day. Professional. Compassionate. And unremarkable. And I wish it was the image of police officers that came to most citizens’ minds.