Who Makes a Difference? By Guest Blogger Detective Billy Dotson, KCPD

Situation: Officers get dispatched to a Domestic Violence call. This is the 3^rd time this month going to the same address.

Officer’s perspective: “Wow, here we go again, Baby mama’s drama! Why can’t she just leave? This is getting old. Someone is definitely going to jail!” When the officers arrive at the house, they take the suspect into custody, and give the victim information how to get an order of protection.  They may or may not take the victim to a shelter or hospital. Afterward, they complain about the fact that they have to keep going back to that address over and over and wonder why she doesn’t just leave. They then continue on working, not really thinking about the incident or what impact they had on the victim.  Just another day!

Victim’s perspective: I am six years old.  It’s a Friday, and all day during school I wonder if my dad is going to be drunk when I get home from school.  When I got home from school, he wasn’t there! I went outside to play, but in the back of my mind I was wondering: when he will get home? Is he drunk again? Maybe he just got called into work, or maybe he won’t come home at all. I wonder this until it’s time for bed.

It’s bedtime now. My mom is reading me a story in my bed. All of a sudden I hear the crunching sound of gravel under tires. He is home! My heart stops, my blood rushes throughout my body, and my breathing picks up. My first instinct is to hide, but where? He found us under the bed last time. My mind begins to race; maybe he is in a good mood, maybe he will not be mean! Self preservation kicks in and I run and jump behind the couch with my eight year old brother.

I hear the door kick open, and the smell of alcohol and cigarettes fill the room. This smell has been cemented with negative thoughts in my head.  My legs start to shake, and I think: if only I was bigger I could do something! I hear the slurred yell of, “Where is everyone?” Nobody answers. I wonder; where is mom? I hope she didn’t hide in the closet, he found her last time when she was in the closet. I hear, “What the hell are you hiding for?” My eyes cinch tightly hoping he isn’t looking at me. I cover my head with my hands and curl up in the tightest ball possible. Maybe if I can’t see him then he can’t see me!

I then hear the unmistakable sound of bone hitting bone. My heart sinks into the pit of my stomach. That’s my mom!  I try to move, I need to protect her but I can’t because I am afraid. I pray to God that he stops beating her and he passes out.  I hear a drunken voice yell, “If you leave me I will kill you all!” and “Don’t even think about calling the cops because they won’t believe you. I am the man and they will believe me!”

BOOM, now I hear the hollow thud of a head hitting the wall. Screams of pain fill the air splitting my soul!  In the back ground I hear sirens. Please God make them hurry. Then everything goes quiet. Did he kill her, I wonder.  I pray my mom is not dead. I hear my dad say, “You better not say a word or I will kill you when he leaves!” I hear a knock on the door and a policeman announces himself. Oh no!  Dad said the police would not believe mom. 

The door comes open. I hear a scuffle. “Stop resisting! Stop resisting”! It gets quiet again. I hear a familiar voice: “Come on out boys, it’s okay now!” It’s the same policeman who came to the house the last two times this happened. I start to breathe easier now. I know the police officer has made it safe! The officer asks me if I am okay. I say yes as I look away in shame. He replies, “It is okay he is gone!” The officer continues to speak with my mom and then leaves.

My mom gathers me and my brother up and holds us with her battered body while saying, “it’s okay boys, he is gone!” Knowing that he is gone, I can almost go back to normal. I can sleep now because I know he will be gone for a couple of days.

That policeman was my lifeline! He did not say much, but he left an impression on me that I will never forget. To this day, I could pick out his voice from a crowd of a thousand people, yet I had very little conversation with him. He treated us with respect and showed us kindness we never knew. That police contact has forever changed my life. I don’t know if that officer will ever realize the impact that he had on me. I imagine after those calls he went to the station, wrote his reports and went home, never really thinking about it.

Now that I am a police officer, I realize the power and the responsibility that comes with routine interactions with people.  This “routine interaction” changed my life forever. Now imagine how many people you can have had contact with over the years as a police officer. How many lives will you have a positive impact on? The truth is, you might not ever know, but I know, because it happened to me!