The Son of a Son of a Cop

I've never considered myself to be an emotional guy. Being a cop means you have to keep your emotions to yourself most of the time. People in the community judge you by how you act, and letting your emotions show tells them you're not the strong protector of their safety they expect. I tried, that day, but I wasn't very successful.

I was OK until the two bagpipers and drummer led the graduating class between the rows of empty seats in the center of the large auditorium. It was the same bagpipe tune I marched to when I made that trip down the aisle between the rows of empty chairs, made a snap turn at my row, and then marched in front of the chair where I'd take my seat once commanded to do so.

That was the culmination of twenty-two weeks of physical and mental hell the Nashville Metropolitan Police Department calls the Metro Police Academy. I entered the Academy full of excitement at becoming a police officer like my dad. After the first day, I was wondering if I'd made a good choice. It was sort of like my basic training in the US Army, but this wasn't what we called "harassment" in basic. The stressful situations were constant and unrelenting. Everywhere we went and during everything we did, we were constantly inspected for appearance and demeanor or questioned about anything and everything we'd studied so far, and one didn't fail more than once or twice. Those who did soon left for other occupations.

I was proud of myself that day, and as I look back on my weeks at the academy with the eye of a seasoned cop, I understand the reasons for the training methods. All that discipline and questioning served to weed out those not suitable to wear a uniform and instilled confidence, pride, and teamwork in those of us who made it through.

I still felt that pride, but my pride in Jeremy pushed it into the background. When I saw him in full uniform complete with service belt and white gloves, a lump formed in my throat, and I could feel my eyes getting wet. It seemed like only last week he was six and now he was a grown man who, just like I'd done with my dad, had followed in his father's footsteps. He had two sets of footsteps to follow that day. I was so proud because one of those sets of footsteps was mine. I was also proud because I knew Jeremy was man enough to fill them both.

I wasn't ashamed of how I felt because I knew there were several other officers in the audience who, like me, were wearing a full dress uniform and were feeling the same way. They had a son or daughter who'd applied to The Academy, been accepted, and was graduating that day. A couple were there for a grandson or granddaughter, and I was wishing my dad had lived to be there. I saw more than one man or woman in uniform look around and then quickly wipe their eyes. I did the same thing after Cindy nudged me and then handed me a tissue.

There were speeches I only half listened to before the Commander administered the Oath of Office to the new officers. I remembered repeating those words and being proud to say them, and the lump in my throat got a little bigger. After that, the graduates marched from their seats and formed a line to receive their graduation certificates.

My lump got bigger yet when the presenter called "Jeremy Wells", and Jeremy marched smartly up to receive his certificate. He then walked a few steps for a photograph with the Chief of Police and the Mayor of Nashville. My cue was when the flashes stopped.

I stood, straightened my uniform jacket, and walked up beside Jeremy. He grinned and whispered, "I made it Dad". I shook his hand and then turned for another set of photos. I'd have one of those on the wall of my den as soon as they were processed. After those photos were taken, Cindy's dad joined us. His Chicago PD uniform fit a lot tighter than when he patrolled the streets on the north side, but he looked proud to be wearing it. The photos of the three of us would join the one with just me and Jeremy on my den wall.

Afterwards, we went back to our house. Cindy had gone all out for the party even though it was just her, me, Jeremy, our daughter Melody, and Cindy's mom and dad. She had pictures of Jeremy on the table from that day when he was six up until the day he graduated from MTSU with a degree in Criminal Justice Administration. A lot of the pictures were of him and I doing stuff together and as Jeremy looked at them, he kept saying "Hey, I remember this. This is the time we..."

I don't know how many times I told Jeremy I was proud of him. He kept saying, "Dad, you already told me that", but I didn't care.

I did care that day sixteen years before when I was driving my regular route and saw a small boy wearing jeans and a blue T-shirt riding down the street on a bicycle with training wheels. I didn't see any adults around and he was in danger of being hit by a car, so I yelped the siren once. When he stopped, I pulled my patrol car in behind him and turned on the light bar to stop any traffic in that lane, then got out and walked up to him. He looked up at me with fear in his eyes, and that fear was the last thing I wanted him to feel. I grinned and stuck out my hand.

"Hi there, buddy. I'm Officer Wells. How's it goin'?"

He looked up at me.

"Are you gonna put me in jail?"

I chuckled.

"Nah, I just thought you looked a little tired. How about if I put your bike up on the curb so we can talk while you rest up?"

He nodded and got off the bike. I picked it up and carried it off the street, then asked him to follow me to the passenger side of my patrol car.

"It's kinda hot out here. How about if we get in my car to talk? It's air conditioned."

He nodded again, so I opened the passenger side door. Once he was inside, I closed the door and then got into the driver's seat. I keyed the radio.

"Dispatch,4501, ten-eighty-four on Richey between Elm and Hickory."

Marsha's reply came back a second later.

"4501,ten-four to your ten-eighty four."

I looked over at the kid then. His eyes looked as big as saucers.

"What's that", he asked.

"That's a police radio. I just told the dispatcher where we are and that I was helping you out. That's to let them know not to send me on another call until I tell them I'm done. The lady dispatcher told me she got the message. Now, what's your name?"

The little boy dropped his eyes.

"Jeremy."

"How old are you, Jeremy."

"Six."

"Six? You look pretty big for six. Where are you going?"

"To see my dad."

"Oh? Where does your dad live?"

"Mom says in a place called Chicago."

I tried not to smile.

"Chicago's a long way from here. How long do you think it'll take?"

Jeremy shrugged.

"I don't know. I just wanna see my dad. Can I go now?"

Obviously, I couldn't let him go, but I didn't want to scare him.

"In a little while, but I have to write a report about how I helped you today and I need some more information before I can do that. Where do you live?"

"With my mom."

"I see. Where does your mom live?"

"In a blue house across from the park."

I was about to ask him if he knew the name of the park when the dispatcher's call came over the radio.

"All units near the 200 block of East Elm. Small boy reported missing. Age six, name Jeremy O'Neil. Jeans, blue shirt, black tennis shoes. Mother is Cindy O'Neil, 206 East Elm."

There's a small park in that block of East Elm, and the description matched, so I keyed my mike.

"Dispatch, 4501. I think I have your ten-sixty. I'm ten-sixteen that location."

"4501, ten-four".

I turned to Jeremy.

"That call was about you, Jeremy. I think your mom's worried about you. Let me get your bike in my trunk and we'll go talk with her."

I saw tears in Jeremy's eyes.

"She'll be mad 'cause she doesn't want me to see my dad."

"Nah, she'll be happy you're safe. Just sit tight when we get there and I'll help straighten things out with her."

After I put his bike in my trunk, I drove to 206 East Elm. Like Jeremy said, the small, pale blue house was directly across from the park.

Next to traffic stops, I dislike calls like this the most. It's not that they're as dangerous as traffic stops. They usually aren't, but sometimes they can make you question your faith in humanity.

I was pretty concerned about this one. In those days, most parents let their older kids roam the neighborhood with their buddies because it was safe to do so, but six was pretty young to be out on the street with a bicycle. It was a possible case of child neglect, or at least a case of a parent not watching their kid closely enough. I'd have to make that call and if it was child neglect, have the kid watch me cuff his mother and haul her off to jail while Social Services took him. If that happened, it was going to teach Jeremy that cops separate you from your mother and he wouldn't trust cops for a long time, if ever.

I parked in the drive and then turned to Jeremy.

"You sit here and listen to the radio for me while I go talk to your mom. If you hear 4501, that's me, so you come get me, OK?"

He nodded, so I got out and walked up to the house. I only got half way to the door before it opened and a woman ran out. She was crying and seemed to be genuinely distraught.

"Did you find Jeremy? Oh, God, please tell me he's all right."

"Are you Cindy O'Neil?"

"Yes. Did you find him?"

"Yes, I found Jeremy. He's in my car and he's fine. Tell me what happened today."

She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.

"We were in the back yard. I just bought Jeremy a bicycle and was teaching him how to ride it. I had to use the bathroom, so I went inside to do that. I couldn't have been gone for more than five minutes, but when I came back out, the gate was open and he was gone. I called the police then."

The timing jived pretty well with where I'd found Jeremy and when I'd heard Central's call about a missing boy. He'd gotten only a block and a half from home, so her story seemed reasonable.

"Well, he got only a block and a half before I saw him. He told me he was going to see his father, and that his father lives in Chicago."

She sighed.

"That started when he went to kindergarten. He never said anything about a father before then. I guess it's because the other boys at his school talk about their fathers, but one day, he asked me where his dad was. It's become something he asks me about almost every day now. I keep telling him he can't go see his dad, but I haven't found a way to explain why yet.

I said she should just tell him his dad lives too far away. She sighed.

"I've tried that and he still wants to. He can't. Jeremy can't see his dad because his dad is dead. Dan was a police officer in Chicago. I was six months pregnant with Jeremy when Dan was shot and killed by some drug dealer, so Jeremy has never seen him.

"Once Jeremy was born, I lived with my parents until he was one, but it wasn't working out very well. Dad was a cop too. Since you're a cop, you know how messed up their schedules can be. Dad was gone most days and some nights so Mom had to take care of Jeremy by herself while I was at work. She never said anything, but she has a bad back and I know it was hard on her.

"It was hard on me too, to stay where Dan was killed. When Jeremy was two, I decided to leave Chicago. My grandparents retired from Chicago to Nashville a few years earlier. My grandfather had passed away, but my grandmother still lives here, so I applied and got a job here and then moved. Grandma took care of Jeremy while I was at work and we had the weekends together. Everything was fine until he started school.

"When he asked about having a dad, I didn't think he was old enough to understand, so I just said his father was in Chicago and we couldn't go there. I guess I'll have to tell him now and try to make him understand so he won't try this again. I don't know how I'm going to do that though. He's just like his father -- bull headed enough to not listen if it's something he doesn't want to hear."

Her explanation seemed reasonable and I hadn't seen anything about Jeremy that would indicate any type of child abuse. I finished taking notes and then looked up and smiled.

"Well, Jeremy seems to be a pretty smart kid. He knows he did something wrong, and he's pretty sure you're going to be mad at him for trying what he did. I think if you sit him down and explain things, he'll understand. I'll go get him now."

I talked to Jeremy for a few seconds before I let him get out of my car.

"Jeremy, your mom's been really worried about you. I think you ought to tell her you're sorry, and I want you to promise her you won't try something like this again."

"Is she mad at me", he asked.

"No. She's just really worried that something had happened to you. I think if you say you're sorry she'll forgive you. Why don't you go try and see? I'll come with you."

Jeremy got out of my car and walked to his mother with his head down. I watched as he stopped in front of his mother, looked up, and said "I'm sorry Mom."

The woman started crying again, and dropped to her knees and hugged him tight.

"Jeremy, I was so worried. Why did you do that? Something really bad might have happened to you."

"I just wanted to find my dad."

"I know, Honey, and we need to talk about that. Go inside and I'll get you some cookies and milk after I thank the police officer for bringing you back home."

I took Jeremy's bike out of my trunk, pushed it up the walk and parked it beside the step.

"I think I'm about done here. I'll write in my report that I brought Jeremy home and everything's OK now."

Cindy shook her head.

"I hope so. Thank you so much for finding him. I promise I won't let him try this again."

I was on duty again the next Saturday, and on a whim, drove past the O'Neil house. I saw Cindy and Jeremy on the walk in front of the house. Jeremy was on his bike and Cindy was trying to keep him upright and off the training wheels.

When he saw my patrol car, he jumped off the bike and ran over to the curb waving his arms. I pulled into their drive and stopped. Jeremy ran up grinning so I rolled down my window.

"Hey there, Jeremy. How's it goin'."

"Mom's helping me learn to ride my bike better."

"So I see. Looks like you're doing better than last week."

Cindy had been following Jeremy, and got to my car then.

"He is, but I can't seem to make him understand about balancing."

I figured it wouldn't hurt if I took a little break, so I got out of the car.

"Let's see. Hop on your bike Jeremy."

Jeremy got his bike, brought it to my car, and then climbed up on the seat. He'd have fallen off again if I hadn't caught him, because he let his weight rock the bike onto one of the training wheels and it started to tip over.

"Whoa there buddy. You need to put a foot down when you're stopped so you won't turn over. That's better. Now, to start off, you need to push off with that foot and then pedal. Once you get going, pedal fast enough to get up a little speed. If you can do that, it'll be easier to keep the bike balanced. Let's go out to the walk so you can try."

Jeremy pushed off and started to pedal slowly. He was wobbling back and forth on the training wheels, but he was still upright. I yelled, "pedal faster, Jeremy" and started running along beside him in case he started to fall.

It took him four tries, but he finally got the hang of balancing the bike. On the last trip up and down the walk, the training wheels only touched the walk a couple of times and he'd quickly brought the bike back on two wheels. Cindy was grinning when he rode up to her, stopped, and put his foot down.

"I can't believe it was that easy to teach him. I guess he just needed a man to show him what to do."

"Well, I don't know about that, but I think he's got it now. You can probably take the training wheels off. He'll probably fall down a couple of times, but he can't go fast enough yet to really hurt himself, and the training wheels are keeping him from feeling when the bike goes over too far."

Cindy looked up at me and frowned.

"I had a hard enough time getting them on. Could you...would you take them off?"

Cindy brought me an adjustable wrench and a pair of pliers. I took the training wheels off the bike and then we watched Jeremy ride up and down the block again. He did fall off, twice, but got back up each time with a determined look on his face. I figured Cindy was right about him being stubborn, because he wasn't about to quit. As he made another trip, Cindy told me she'd explained to Jeremy about his Dad.

"I didn't think he'd understand, and he didn't at first. I explained to him that his dad was a police officer who was trying to help someone when a bad man shot him. He asked me if getting shot was why his dad didn't stay with us, and I had to explain that sometimes people who get hurt don't get well, and that his dad had died.

"I didn't think Jeremy knew anything about death, but when I said his dad was dead, he asked if that was like when Martha's goldfish died. Martha is a girl at his school, and evidently she told him about that. I said yes, it was like that. Jeremy then asked if his dad was in the ground like Martha had buried her goldfish. I said yes, he was in the ground in a cemetery in Chicago.

"He seemed to think about that for a while, but then asked if someday we could go to Chicago so he could see where his dad's buried. I said we could do that when he gets a little older and he seemed satisfied with that. What he said next really choked me up. Jeremy asked if I could find him another dad."

Jeremy rode up then.

"Mom, I can do it now. Watch me."

Jeremy turned his bike around and started for the end of the block again. Cindy was grinning when she turned back to me.

"I guess he does need a dad to teach him stuff like this, but I doubt that's going to happen. It's not like I'm trying not to find a man. It's just that as soon as a man finds out I have a little boy, he starts making excuses for why we can't see each other."

I didn't quite know what to say to that. I'd never met a woman I wanted to date who had a kid. I thought about that for a second or so, and I couldn't see what the big deal was. I mean, yeah, the kid wouldn't be mine, not biologically, but Jeremy was a smart kid and other than trying to ride his bike to Chicago once, seemed to be a pretty good kid."

"Well, I imagine you just haven't found the right guy yet. I'm sure there's a guy out there who wouldn't let Jeremy turn him away."

Cindy sighed.

"I hope you're right. I don't know how I'm going to teach Jeremy about all the stuff boys do. I've never played baseball or gone fishing or camping or any of those things."

As I continued to drive my route that day, I thought about Cindy's problem and I couldn't see why having a son would keep any guy from being interested in her. She wasn't gorgeous, or at least, she hadn't looked gorgeous the two times I'd talked with her, but I thought if she'd have been wearing makeup, she'd probably be at least a pretty good looking woman. I happen to like dark brown hair on a woman, and Cindy's was a glossy dark brown that contrasted nicely with her pale skin. She wore it shoulder length with a flip at the ends, and it framed her arched brows, small nose and mouth and rounded chin.

Like any man would, I'd looked at her body as well, and she had nothing to fear in that area either. She was feminine without being extreme anywhere, and when she walked, her hips had that soft, side to side sway I find to be more than a little erotic.

Now, I'd look at a woman, of course, but her body and face wouldn't be all that attracts me to her. I'm not one of those guys who think appearance and sexuality are everything because they're not. What's really important is the person inside that body. I didn't know Cindy very well, but she seemed like an intelligent and level-headed woman. I hoped for both her and Jeremy's sake some man would see what I was seeing.