Scars Can't Tell

Some people break rules to help others and some break rules to hurt others. I joined the police force to save the first from the second. Most police try to save the rules from people and I determined to help people. Yes, I’m a bit strange and it’s one of the reasons I never made it past sergeant. But I’m not on my own – there’s plenty of police who have people as their first priority.

See, rules are like hubcaps – clean and shiny in front while hiding filth behind.

Now, of course, you will say that I’m imposing my own judgement and you’re right. But, isn’t every single rule or law a judgement? I mean, why is 100 kph the speed limit and not 98 kph or 103? Every rule is a judgement and, let’s face it, most rules are not made by people on the ground, actually involved in the “crime”.

So I broke the rule a few rules. One by allowing a lost child to be with loving parents while kinda’ sorta’ not knowing where she was hiding. And another by not bringing some bad people in for questioning as I thought the real criminal would be drawn in by them staying home. I made judgements and there’s always someone who thinks that’s wrong. But I take my orders from my inner judgement and stay below the radar as much as I can.

See, this is the Queensland of Joe Bjelke Peterson, in 1981, where those with power and money lord it over the others. That doesn’t go down well with me and so I’ve got two choices – leave the force, pretend it’s not happening, or stay and wangle it from inside. I deliberately chose the second because I really, really, really do not like injustice.

For example, the rule in most stations, that goes against the law, is that we treat domestic violence as “just another domestic” and move on to less messy crimes like theft. We don’t deal with it. Protecting the rule from people, keeping it shiny in front while protecting the filth behind. But, damn it, that’s people hurting each other and that’s why I joined the force. So I break the rule and obey the law. I broke the rule to allow Kathryn back to her house, while making it difficult for Nico to return … oops, we’re getting ahead of ourselves, aren’t we!

If we’re not talking about domestic violence, in the stations, we’re definitely not talking about child prostitution, child slavery or human trafficking. Just too messy for words so we pretend it doesn’t happen. No one would listen to me about the Pelican Gang or any related activity. No one. So I put that in the one-day-soon basket and got on, dealing with what I knew I could.

See, scars can’t tell. People look like they’re coping but they’re not. None of us are, really. Scars can’t speak up and say, “This person needs help.” If people don’t speak up, we never know. Those with the biggest scars are those least likely to speak up and ask for help. We’ve just got to dive in and help, knowing that being there is the best we can do.

So, like me, everyone else knows the rules and breaks them, anyway. Just don’t tell anyone I said this please – I could get into a heap of trouble! It’s not what us police are supposed to say.

Not all stories have happy endings and this could be one of them. But maybe it’s not. See, evil, like rust, never sleeps. And, like rust, we never know where and when it’s going to turn up. I can’t for the life of me believe that the powerful are ever going to give up.

But love never sleeps as well and I hope it’s more powerful than fear. That’s all I’ve got to hold on to. We’ve just got to stay on our toes, dance the best we can and hope we don’t have to break too many more rules.
Sergeant Gordon McLeod