You grew up watching the news with your parents. Â Every night you curl up in front of the television and watch as news casters bring you stories of the world around you, as well as worlds far away. Â You love every minute of it and trust the news to tell you of all that you canât see for yourself. Â The news anchors are all familiar faces, and when one is replaced, you almost feel an acute sense of loss. Â The point is, the news is a resource, a voice to be trusted, and you know the reporters wouldnât lead you astray.
You trust journalists the same way you trust cops. Â Your dad is a cop, and heâs wonderful. Â Sure, like every daughter, there are moments where you hate him passionately. Â But heâs a good guy, a good dad, and you assume that heâs probably a pretty good cop. And if he trusts the police, you trust the police, because your dad is a good person. Â Whoever he likes must be good people too.
When you first learn about Black Lives Matterâwhen you first see the horrors a cop can commitâ you ask your dad about it. Â Ask him if heâs ever shot a random kid jogging home based on the color of his skin.
âOf course not!â He replies, offended, and thatâs the end of that. You never meant to imply he was bad, or that you didnât trust him! Heâs your dad. Â You know heâs a good cop. Â And you decide that maybe some cops are bad, but certainly not all cops. And so you support BLM, you repost the various petitions and fundraisers, but you certainly donât hate all cops. Â And those ACAB signs never sit quite right with you.
But then, itâs 2020, and youâre in college. Â Constantly thinking about the world, wondering how to behave, wondering who has the right of it. Â And the country has gone crazy. Â Thereâs a buffoon in office, and constant threat of disease, and the media is lying to you about so many things. Â Journalistsâonce a constant in your lifeâ are now an enemy to question. Â And in the middle of all this, your city begins to protest.
You see the signs advertising, the posts on social media encouraging everyone to take action, youâve always been politically conscientious. But on the day of the protests, you see your dadâs grim face as he dresses for work. Â And you decide not to go,
Later, youâll wish desperately you were there, if only to pour milk on the eyes of your dear friends, as tear gas was turned against them. Â You watch on the news, horrified, as the police turn on the protesting crowds. Â You see pellet guns and water tanks and hope desperately for everyoneâs safety. Â At one point you see your dad.
Heâs holding a pair of handcuffs, and places them on a protester, whoâs face is pale with milk and pain and fear. Â And then you see your dadâs face. Â The hard, uncompromising lines. Â And you know heâs a good cop. Â Heâs just doing his job. Â Of course he is.
But you start to wonderâ Is being a good cop the same as being a good person?