Lost generations

My job usually takes me to the worst ghetto neighborhoods of my town. When I am there I can't help but be amazed at how some people live and act. We execute raids on houses and within minutes there are dozens of folks standing out in the street rubbernecking. These are grown ass men and women who should be at work at 10AM on a Tuesday but seem to have nothing better to do that hang out at my crime scene.

You would think that these crowds would be happy that we are actively clearing out drug houses. Nope. Instead they like to stand around and yell out helpful comments like:

"They ain't done nothing!"

"Punk ass cops!"

"Ho ass laws!"

and my personal favorite:

"Fuck the police!"

It makes me want to just take a flamethrower to the whole area sometimes. I look at this behavior and I just don't see how in the world our country is going to survive. Aren't we supposed to be the good guys? I mean, I just risked my life charging into a drug house and the community is out here calling me names? What the hell is going on here?

If the adults hate us so much, can you imagine what they are teaching their kids. After dealing with the slums for almost a decade, it's obvious that the children of these areas are a lost generation. In fact, in the last two weeks I've been cussed out and threatened in two separate incidents involving kids under 15 years old.

I used to work an assignment at a particulary rough apartment complex. This place was a total slum. When I think back, I can't believe I made it out in one peice. I would just walk around the complex alone all day and make sure that the drug dealing wasn't too obvious. What the heck was I thinking?

As I walked around, I would always attract the attention of the little kids. They would run up to me and ask me all kinds of questions. They seemed fascinated by the police like almost all little kids. That part was normal but other parts were...different.

These kids would ask if I had ever taken anyone to jail. At first I would reply that I only took bad people but then the kids would tell me that their daddy was in jail. Or their mommy. Or their aunti. Or uncle. Or whoever. Whoops.

Once they started chiming in, I realized that almost every single one of these kids had some family member in jail at the time I was talking to them. Some would tell me that their mommy said the police like to shoot poor people or minorities. Others would say that their moms didn't want them talking to the police.

As I spoke with them, I came to the realization that these kids were most likely doomed in life. They came from broken homes and most had no fathers and zero role models. Imagine growing up in deep poverty and surrounded by the drug culture without any adult to look up to other than Tu-Pac.

I remember one particular boy named David who was around 11 or 12. He was always around when I was working and seemed very curious about the police. Several times a week I used to talk with him and let him play around with the lights and sirens of my squad car. He was always friendly and told me that he wanted to be a cop one day. Score one for the good guys right?

Eventually I dropped this assignment and went on to other things. A few years passed and I became a detective. One day I got a case that required me to go back to this apartment complex and interview a witness. As I was walking through the complex I saw David standing in an archway. He had grown quite a bit but I recognized him. I smiled and asked how he was doing. He looked at me with contempt on his face and spit on the sidewalk before turning and walking inside an apartment. His attitude was exactly the same as dozens of other gangbangers I had dealt with in the past. I have to admit that I was a little shocked.

I stood there staring at the door and wondered what had happened to make him so angry. Since then, I've thought about pulling his criminal history to see what he's become but I don't think I want to know.

Another example of the world I speak of.