officer approached.
I was just leaving, she assured him, recognizing him as
one
of the two officers who had stopped by the same picnic
table
there earlier that morning to inform her that a lady who
frequented the park had called the police out of concern
for
her and asked if they could do anything.
The officer leaned back against the pillar supporting the
little
pavilion, taking a sip of coffee from the cup in his hand.
I see, he nodded affably, watching as she packed away
her
sewing for the day.
A dress that she was making by hand was folded and placed
neatly into a cardboard box in front of her on the table. Her
needles, thread, and scissors went into a nylon backpack
beside her.
The little park was empty, now, with the exception of the
two of them.. It
would soon be dark. Everyone had gone
home for dinner.
She could stay in the park during the day, the other of
the
same pair of officers there earlier that morning had told
the homeless woman, but she had to leave by dark It wasn't
any different than she'd been doing all along. She was glad
that the officer had said she could continue the practice,
although it had certainly been somewhat embarrassing to be
approached by two officers in front of the usual, large crowd
of nannies and toddlers who frequented the safe little park.
Some of the regulars there had already befriended her,
bringing her treats from their cookouts and even asking her
to serve as the pitcher in their youngsters' baseball games.
What if they thought now that she was some sort of
criminal and felt less secure having her in their midst after
seeing the police come up to her that way? Then, what if
they phoned the police again once she returned to the
park, not knowing she had been told she could stay there?
The woman was a few years short of fifty. It was the first
time anyone had phoned the police on her account for
any reason.
"Miss," began the officer, still casually leaning with his
back against the column, now and then sipping from the
cup in his hand, "Miss, I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask
you to unbutton your blouse," he said so smoothly that the
woman thought she must have heard him wrong. "It's
buttoned up way too high," he continued just as casually.
A quick glance around her told the woman they were
completely alone. She was on her own.
Any fear she felt was instantly replaced with a numb
disbelief when she heard the words that followed. As
she hastily got up from the bench, preparing to pick up
her box and leave, his voice went on, his remarks and
directives to her growing progressively inappropriate
and sexually explicit.
She attempted to counter each by telling him about the
boyfriend she was currently having problems with. She
told him also that she thought police officers were
supposed to protect the defenseless--people like her.
Nonplussed, the officer resumed his own tack.
Ultimately, his vulgarity grew increasingly bolder and
more aggressive, as he described what it was he wanted
to do to her. He would come back there to the park to
look for her, he told her.
To the woman's great relief, as she started to walk
towards the park gate with the officer following a few
steps behind her, she saw a police car pull up alongside
the fence. A tall officer exited the cruiser and walked
towards them, entering the park through the gate. He
wasn't the one who had been there that morning.
"You're supposed to be out of here by dark," he spoke
tersely.
She was thinking of how and what to say about the
officer in her company--the officer who had already
disappeared into the passenger seat of the parked
cruiser.
"I don't ever want to see you here again," continued
the newly arrived officer. "Is that clear?"
How and what to say--whether to say anything at all--
became minimized by the more immediate issue facing
her now--that of losing all of her park privileges. It
was safe there. She had nowhere else to go.
"The officer who was here this morning," the woman
began to explain hopefully, "said I could continue to
come to the park in the daytime."
"Well, I'm telling you I don't want to see you here day
or night," snapped the officer, "is that clear? Go to
[another park within the legal jurisdiction of another
nearby state]," the officer told her. "There are others
like you there."
Leaving her stunned by the callous indifference, rude-
ness, and inconsiderateness of his remarks, the officer
walked briskly to his cruiser, got in, and drove away
before the woman could say more.
Now, feeling intimidated by both of the officers, she
left the park for good, never to return.
Perhaps a week had passed, when she once again
happened to see the kindly officer who had first
arrived at the park that day. Expecting a favorable,
if not even dynamic, reaction, she excitedly told
her story to him. She tried to make certain that
the two officers now accompanying him also heard
every word. In loud tones she told the officer exactly
what had happened after he left that day and exactly
what the officer formerly with him had said to her.
To her dismay, no one seemed the least bit interested.
Had they even paid attention? One was a female
officer. Surely it mattered.
Not even a glance was tossed her way by either of the
two accompanying officers.
"Oh," the first officer, the kindly one she had
addressed, gave a dismissive wave of his hand, "he's
[name of nearby county]," he said, referring to the
officer who had made the sexually explicit remarks.
"He's not [name of county they were in]."
With that, as if it didn't matter to them, the subject
was dismissed.
* * * *
Once again, any real legal counsel proved inaccessible.
Few, if any, believed the woman's story at all.
Opinions ranged from dismissiveness to outright
support for the police officer, who, she was told,
may actually have been acting in the line of duty.
"He probably wasn't a real police officer,"
someone even suggested.
He had exited one local police officer's cruiser
and entered another officer's cruiser. To the woman,
it didn't matter what he was or was not. To the public,
he represented the law enforcement of the jurisdiction
he was in when traveling in the company of the officers
and in their vehicles. Realizing that the word of a homeless
woman against the word of a veteran police officer--
for his shirt sleeve boasted almost a countless
array of insignias--was a done deal, the woman, like
most of the homeless, gave up her quest, just glad
the situation hadn't accelerated to anything worse.
* * * *
Several years passed. The woman had a home,
now.
It was on the evening news, she said. It was the
officer who had approached her that day, in the park,
a few years earlier. His picture was on the evening
news.
Oh--nothing to do with her, though. He had just
been arrested for a bank robbery and was being
investigated for many more area holdups.
* * * *
The officer arrested for the holdups worked at a
local high school, reported the newspapers. Was
he the same police officer? The officer who made
the sexually inappropriate overtures to her?
The woman is pretty certain it was the same officer.
If she is wrong, then the other officer is still out
there and still on duty in the very same
jurisdiction
Is anyone, in this case, really any safer than the
homeless woman was in her situation? Are the
high school youngsters safe with either officer
having such easy access to them?
To have taken the homeless woman's case
seriously from a legal perspective could only
benefit everyone else as well.
* * * *
"If you can't trust the police," noted Common-
wealth's Attorney Robert F. Horan, Jr., "who in
the world can you trust?"
IN THE PARK
Copyright 2004 H. Makelin
