A Love Letter to my Husband, and a Thank You to my Friends

You’re an officer’s wife?  That must be fun.

You’re a deputy’s wife?  Oh…I bet you never see your husband.

You’re a trooper’s wife?  Uggg…I bet that’s hard on your family.

All these statements are completely right.  And completely wrong. 

I am coming up on five years of being married to a law enforcement officer.  I’ve been in a relationship with him for seven years.  A man who, when we started dating, was a patrol deputy who either worked 6am to 3pm or 9pm to 6am.  His “weekend” was never my weekend, and he was exhausted a lot.

But we fell in love, because we always found time for each other.  I remember in the early days of our relationship, I would meet him for a cheeseburger at McDonald’s at 10:30pm on a Friday.  A few times, right when we would sit down to eat, Dustin’s radio would start barking and suddenly I was alone.  In McDonald’s. At 10:45pm. On a Friday.

But other times, I would wake up to breakfast brought over to my house bright and early.  I would sit down and enjoy my breakfast before Dustin went to bed and I went to start my day. 

And other times, when I took my daughter to softball while Dustin was on shift…I would see a glimpse of khaki and black out of the corner of my eye.  He was there.  And he always timed it perfectly for when Trin was up to bat.  He would smile like a proud dad, clap for her…and then the radio would crackle…and he was off.

These scenarios…still vivid…make me happy.  Because he was always there.  He always made time for his family as well as his community.  A lot of parents won’t do that, even if they could make the time.

Fast forward seven years to the present.  I am married to a sergeant (same guy...if you're counting :)) who oversees people crimes for the County of Pennington.  His hours have changed.  He’s supposed to work 8 to 5, Monday through Friday.  I wish criminals knew that.  Because they tend to commit the “big crimes” on the weekend, or in the middle of the night.  So we get a phone call.  And then I get a kiss.  And an apology…and then he’s off.

You would think this makes me angry.  Or frustrated.  Or disappointed.  Maybe on a holiday.  But that’s what my husband does.  I am so proud of him.  It would be selfish for me to say “stop doing what you’re sworn to do.  I’d rather watch TV together.”  Or, “Seriously?  We had plans to paint this room!  That victim can wait!”  There are wives out there that are like that, and it makes me sad.  And it makes me sad when he apologizes, because he shouldn’t.  He’s doing his job.  A job I knew about when I married him, and a job he is so good at.  He needs to be there.

Oh my gosh!  He must be gone a lot!  Based on that description, you would think so.  However, if I look at the whole picture, and not just a few snippets, it is completely different.  Since school started, only two nights have been spent as a “single mom” because of work.  The rest of those nights?  Dustin is coaching Pee Wee football for Tyson’s team.  Or grilling dinner.  Or yelling at the Steelers on the TV.  Or being the amazing multi-tasking dad and husband that I fell in love with almost instantly.

And I treasure the nights when he is home with us.

And I treasure the nights when he is protecting the community.

Law Enforcement needs the support of their families and friends.  Why?  Because they are the ones that run towards the towers.  My husband would stand between me and a bullet.  Many might say, “well my husband would do that for me too!”  But would your husband do it for me?  Because my husband would do it for you.

Because that’s his job.  It’s a job I can’t wrap my head around.  A job where men and women willingly go to work with the goals of “going home safely to my family” and “keeping this community safe”.  So when I hear people making disparaging remarks about law enforcement because of one encounter they didn’t like, or when I see people accusing officers of brutality because they had the audacity to defend themselves, or to make sure they got home safe to kiss their babies…then that makes me burn.  People just don’t get it.

I am thinking of my friends and family today who walk the thin blue line. 

May you forever know my gratitude for being the lions who will run toward the towers. 

Thank you for your service.

Sarah Morrison

Proud Law Enforcement Wife

Chairwoman, Fraternal Order of Police Wives Club

State v. George Zimmerman

I have been asked about the Zimmerman trial a lot.  Not because I know more than anybody else regarding the facts, but because I am a prosecutor.  But I’m also a mom.  And I’m also a human. 

And the case breaks my heart.

As a prosecutor, I knew this would be the verdict.  Not because I think our system is corrupt.  I love our system.  The justice system is imperfect, as is our society, but in a democracy we must have trial by jury.  Otherwise, one person will be judge, jury and executioner.  And that is dangerous.  And would result in many opinions much worse than what happened in Florida.

So why did I know this would happen?  Because “beyond a reasonable doubt” is a ridiculously high burden to meet.  We need to have that high burden to ensure that innocent people do not lose their liberties.  However, I also think that in cases like this…the high burden results in the wrong decision. 

To explain myself, I have personally been involved in very difficult “no charging” meetings. In many instances, prosecutors must tell victims “we can’t file charges in your case”.  Otherwise stated, we must tell them we know what happened, but we can’t prove it beyond a reasonable doubt.  We get the reasoning.  Our investigators get the reasoning.  But the victim who knows it happened?  How can they ever understand it?  They can’t.  And that’s what makes the meeting so difficult.

Am I saying that the Zimmerman case should have never been charged?  Absolutely not.  I don’t know all the facts in the case, and I haven’t read the reports and talked to witnesses.  There’s nothing that annoys me more than people not involved in a case telling those involved what should happen.  You know the types.  The anonymous commentators on the Rapid City Journal, or the individuals loudly talking in the hallway about how so-and-so doesn’t know what they’re doing.  Or the Facebook posters saying things like “I know what happened, and the jury must decide………or they are morons.”  Well, actually…you don’t know.  Thanks.

So when I say this is my opinion, I am not Monday Morning Quarterbacking, and I am not smack talking any parties.  Because I am well aware that I am a citizen that lives in Rapid City, South Dakota.  I was not involved in the trial, and I don’t know the intricacies of what went on…both on the day Martin died, and throughout the days of the investigation, preparation and trial of Zimmerman.

And when I say my opinion, I am well aware that it is based on what certain media outlets chose to report.  And certain outlets (I am talking to you, Fox News and MSNBC) presented their “unbiased journalism” either for or against Zimmerman. That’s another blog post entirely, and I’m not going down that road.

So here is what I have to say:

What George Zimmerman did was wrong.  He profiled a child based on his physical appearance.  He was a wanna-be cop who had a history of calling the non-emergency number to dispatch to report suspicious people.  Or as he called Martin one of several “fucking punks”.

What if Trayvon Martin was walking back to a house with skittles and a juice drink?  What if that’s all that he did?

What if he started to run because he was being followed?  Stalked? Profiled?

What if he was scared?

Or, what if he turned around and told Zimmerman to fuck off?  Although rude, it’s not illegal.

And what if Zimmerman, the wanna-be cop, decided he needed to teach a mouthy kid a lesson?

And what if he attacked first? (after ignoring instructions from a dispatcher to wait for a law enforcement officer)

And what if Martin defended himself?

And what if he got the upper hand?

So Zimmerman can now argue self-defense because the person using self-defense got the upper hand on him?

And what if the only thing Martin did was scream “help”?

But what if that was Zimmerman who yelled “help” after Martin defended himself?

That’s a lot of what ifs.  And what ifs poke giant holes “beyond a reasonable doubt”.  Therein lies the problem in this case.  That’s why I believed the verdict would go this way.  There were too many what ifs, and the prosecution couldn’t answer them.

The only person who knows what actually happened is Zimmerman.  A man who called non-emergency dispatch regularly, who grouped young people into “fucking punks”, who gained 100 pounds on his muscular physique before trial and who connived with his wife to speak in code about hidden money for bail and legal defense while incarcerated and waiting for trial.

But was he a victim?  I don’t see him in that manner at all.  I think he created the situation.

So did the jury get it right?  Based on how the evidence was presented to them, I think they came to the only verdict that they could.  There was too much doubt and unanswered questions.  And that makes me sad.  And I get why people are angry about it.

Do I understand this anger?  No, I personally don’t.  And I never will.  Because when my two young sons go outside to walk down the street to get ice cream, visit their friends or go play to the park, they will always just be wearing hoodies.  And they will get to their destination.

And the fact that I have friends who worry that their sons might not, because of how they look, really makes me sick.