This is going to be a little long.

 So I used to like the police, I saw them there to serve and protect.  

2003, we lived in a terrible neighborhood known for drug dealing and criminal activity.  That address was on Ron's ID card next to his Postal ID badge.  

He had 2K cash in his backpack when he was run over; we had to pay the rent that day (it was late) and we also had to pay a supplier for an order of about $1,300.  The supplier didn't want personal checks so Ron paid cash.  

As you know, the driver who ran over Ron was talking on a cell phone at the time and had run the red light while Ron was crossing the street, (he was going east and Ron was going south), striking Ron on his right side, flipping him up on the hood of the car, the backpack got caught on the rearview and Ron was dragged hanging off the side of the vehicle for about a block and a half, which is why he had the scar on his head and road rash all over his hands, legs, and feet.  

The truck was totaled; he had to stop.  He called 911 (that's a call I hope I never hear) and they dispatched an ambulance.  Ron was DOA but the paramedic, who I met later, revived him (he later said Ron's was the worst accident he ever saw in his career) and his partner called the life flight (helicopter) to take Ron to the trauma center.  You all know what happened after that.  

The next day at the trauma center - I had been up over 24 hours straight at this point - the officer walks in, asks me how Ron walked to work, I told him.  He said no Ron was going north.  I said that is impossible if Ron was going north and the truck traveling east he would have been hit on his left side.  The officer then told me the accident was my fault because I let Ron out of this house unattended. 

Ron had been traveling, at that point, on his own for over 30 years and I told the officer that.   

I asked about the backpack (after all, I still had to pay the rent) and he handed it to me.  It was empty.  I asked who had access to it and he said he took it off Ron after the accident.  

I will let you make your own conclusion.  

I asked if the driver had been charged and he said no, the light was green.  

The driver himself had called me at the hospital that morning, asking about Ron and blubbering how sorry he was that he ran the red light, he was "in a hurry".  I said that  The officer got very ugly and abrupt and said the driver would not be charged, said again the accident was "my fault after all" and left.  

It took a minute for that to sink in and it's a good thing because I probably would have assaulted him.  Remember I was not medicated at the time.  

I didn't have a really high view of the police after that; although a drunken Ron once sicced the mental health crisis intervention team on us one time during one of his blackouts (he called 911 and said his bipolar wife was abusing him).  They came out, told him to stop drinking.  

Ron, to the female officer "Shut up bitch" she just shook her head and looked at me with deep pity.  That night I went to my aunt and uncle's.  

So I had a little better view after that they were pretty awesome.  God forbid I ever lose it one day I hope they come.  

Today Mom, Dad, and I went to church.  Dad is almost 83 and has had congestive heart failure and pneumonia in the last 6 months.  He does not move very fast, is stooped over and slow, tentative in the way he walks.  He is unsteady.  

My church has a couple of hired police officers in uniform who stand guard during services.  I am friendly with them and like to give them candy.  

Dad was walking into church and took a header on the sidewalk.  He was wearing cargo shorts and was laying on the ground, shocked and bleeding.  I was freaking out yelling "Dad!  Dad!" and Mom was yelling his name.  The officer came over, took one look, crouched down behind Dad and asked if he was OK.  Dad said he thought so (blood everywhere but he's on a blood thinner for his heart)  He asked Dad if he felt like getting up and Dad said yes, he put his arms around Dad's chest and BAM on his feet.  

A lady brought a first aid kit and I patched him up.  I wasn't worried about contact with Dad's blood.  Later on when we got to the house I did a better job.  

And the officer was watching us fuss over Dad with a kindly smile on his face.  And I realized all my resentment about the officer in 2003 is over and I really LIKE the police again.