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- 07/20/2016
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A Thin Blue Line - 1. Thin Blue Line
“You’re uncharacteristically quiet, CJ.” Detective Tom Kennedy sipped from the steaming mug in his hands and sighed. He looked haggard. There were dark circles under his eyes, evidence of too little sleep over the past week. “What’s on your mind?”
The younger man stood, leaving the comfortable recliner he’d been ensconced in since he’d returned home carrying three large pizzas and a box full of cupcakes. “I don’t know what’s on my mind, Uncle Tom,” the teen replied, walking towards the refrigerator in the back section of the basement. “I’m getting a Dr. Pepper. Anybody want anything?”
“Yeah, I’ll take a bottle of water,” his father said. Retired Marine Captain Brett Davenport sounded defeated. His son knew the events in Dallas had affected him as much as they had the policeman; he thought it had something to do with uniformed men being ambushed and murdered while they tried to do their job. Echoes of Afghanistan where Brett had served.
“Anyway, Uncle Tom, I’m sad. I’m angry. I’m disappointed. I’m frustrated. I’m so many things right now I can’t keep track of them.” CJ handed Papa Brett his water and, instead of returning to his previous seat, squeezed himself between his two fathers on the couch. “I’m sorry to no end five police officers lost their lives and I’m sad black people continue to be killed after traffic stops. I’m angry at assholes like the shooter in Texas who feel the need to lash out in response by killing innocent cops. And I’m angry at the Lieutenant Governor of Texas once again. He calls protestors hypocrites because they expect the cops to protect them? Who the fuck else are they supposed to turn to? Just because they disagree with the way some officers conduct themselves—”
“So you think the shootings in Minnesota and Louisiana the days before the demonstration in Dallas were the cause for it?” César slipped an arm around his son and pulled him in tighter to his body.
“Not really, dad. I think that fucker just needed an excuse. But the root cause has to be the mistrust between cops and black people. Until both sides relax―”
“That’s crap, CJ. I don’t mistrust black people. I don’t need to relax,” interrupted an emphatic Detective Kennedy. “At least I haven’t up ‘til now. And I tell you something else, neither I nor the men and women I work with are racist. We don’t go looking for black men to bust and throw in jail. Or shoot.”
“I never claimed you did,” protested the younger man, raising his voice for a moment before trying to settle down. “All the guys I’ve met from the DC Police Department have been great. You know I’m a big supporter. But you also know I had a nasty experience with a couple of boys in blue. If two bad ones arrested me and tried to frame me for something because they thought I was gay, that proves not every cop is clean.”
“But you are gay, mate. And from what I’ve heard you’ve been practicing a lot lately.” John Paul’s comment seemed to break the tension which appeared to be growing between his husband the cop, and the son of his best friends and next door neighbors.
“Funny Aussie. Ha, ha, ha.” CJ realized the man he also considered an uncle was trying to make a joke to relax them all. He appreciated the effort and tried to continue in a more rational sounding manner. “Look, I’m not saying every viral video showing a confrontation between a cop and a black man is proof of anything. Many only show us a few seconds and I know how things can be taken out of context. But I also know where there’s smoke, there’s fire. And that racism is alive and well in the United States. And by default in many a police department.”
“Do you agree with Giuliani’s comment about the Black Lives Matter movement being intrinsically racist?” César’s question made CJ look up at his dad, and think for a moment while framing his reply. The accountant’s logical mind always came up with questions and statements which challenged his son and made him speak carefully afterwards.
“I’ll give you my opinion,” Tom said. “Of course he’s right. Why is it those fuckers run out into the streets only when there’s a cop involved. Where the fuck are they every day of the year when black men are killing black men. Do black lives only matter when there’s a cop, preferably a white one, involved?”
“I think you’re wrong, Uncle Tom. I don’t think those marching in protests are being racist when they speak up about black people being gunned down so often. I know you don’t think gay pride parades are heterophobic. And this is the same. Because a minority group makes its presence known by parade or protests, doesn’t mean they’re demeaning members on the opposite side. Giuliani’s an idiot. What he said was wrong even if there was a hint of truth behind it. And right or wrong, it was the wrong moment to make the comment.” CJ paused and smiled, for the first time since the conversation with his dads and uncles had begun.
“Damn! I’m a poet and I didn’t know it.” his quip made them all laugh and helped ease the tension in the room a bit further.
“Can you say, let’s add fuel to the fire? The politicos are quick to place blame but slow to find real solutions. But I do agree the Black Lives protests are somewhat one-sided. Yes, there’s an issue involving race here but unless you deal with it in an even-handed way, you will fail.
“The Black Lives groups are focused on one narrow aspect of the problem. I wish it wasn’t so. I wish people would hit the streets every time a kid was murdered in the inner city. I wish someone would call out the thugs who terrorize their neighborhoods. And I wish they’d realize the majority of police officers are on their side.”
“Then why pick on cops?” asked JP. His eyes were moist and his voice trembled when he spoke. “Do you have any idea what I go through every day when Tommy straps his holster on and gets ready to go to work? I… We already lived through him being shot once. And now I have to worry not only about the criminals but about nut jobs who may decide there’s one too many big, white, cops around.”
César gave his son a squeeze, CJ sighed into the silence, and Tom took JP’s hand in his own, bringing it up to his lips for a kiss. All the dread they’d experienced after the cop had been shot seemed to envelop the men. The quiet extended, no one seemed willing to break it, until Brett cleared his throat.
“I think we’re trying to find easy answers for monumental problems,” said the military man in a quiet tone. “Here we’re again, just like a couple of weeks ago. In a position similar to the one we were in after the Orlando massacre. Grasping at straws, trying to wrap our minds around events we can’t understand. Wanting to comprehend, to find reasons behind the events on the news.
“There’s racism in this country just as there’s homophobia and it’s manifest in all sorts of people. There are badly run police departments in this country, although they’re hopefully being cleaned up. There are opportunists, politicians like Giuliani and the Donald who fan the flames of hatred, and madmen like the Johnson guy in Dallas who strike out in hatred. There are frustrated black mothers and fathers who fear for the safety of their children whenever they step out of their house. The fear of a stray bullet fired by a thug, compounded by the fear the men and women sworn to protect them from those thugs may go too far.
“Economics plays its part also. And that affects minority communities a hell of a lot more than the Irish in Boston or the Cubans in Miami. And yes, I know Cubans are technically a minority, but… Anyway, we’re not going to find the answers tonight over pizza and beer. I’m not sure there’s one answer. We can try to make things better for others, and we can support law enforcement personnel. But I’ll take a page from CJ’s book in his fight against bullying. A phrase he used during that first school event he did: We must all stand up. Stand up to racism. Stand up to economic inequalities. Stand up to abuse of power. But we must also stand up and support those who protect us. Those serving in the military and those serving in law enforcement. Those standing on the thin blue line between us, and those who wish to do us harm.”
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Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
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