“The idea that Mrs. Brooks, my amazing 3rd grade teacher, could match a madman’s rush with an AR-15, with any sort of firearm she might carry, makes me laugh and cry at the same time.”—An honest and gut wrenching post from an American police officer.
It doesn’t seem so long ago that death was something shocking and emotional.
What happened to us?
Several months ago I responded to a house for a baby in distress, but by the time I had arrived, there was no more distress.
The baby was dead.
A formerly healthy two month old baby was dressed in her onesie, laying on her back with her arms to her side, eyes closed as if she was asleep. One could imagine she was asleep, without having to use much imagination.
As teams of first responders made their way through the house, the mother, a teenager herself, pecked away on her phone with enough seeming disinterest that part of me wanted to slap her upside her head. The baby’s grandfather couldn’t wait for all of us to leave, because he had to water his flowers. He left at one point to go and…
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