December 21, 2024

A few (more) memories of working on Christmas

PERF members,

Over the past couple years, I’ve used the column before Christmas to share police leaders’ memorable stories about working around the holidays. When I ask around for stories, many people recount the darker incidents — domestic violence or alcohol-fueled disturbances — that sadly are all too common around the holidays. But the stories below include some heartwarming tales about working the holidays, and some instances of police making a difference during difficult moments in people's lives.

Working over the holidays leads to some memorable moments, whether you’re a lonely rookie cop on a quiet shift in Baltimore; an officer running into a burning building in Chicago; a member of the famed NYPD Emergency Service Unit helping a family locked out of their home; a detective in Yakima, Washington responding to a report of an abandoned newborn; a police chief in Kansas City, Missouri harnessing community support to brighten the day of those working on Christmas; an officer pursuing a suspect into a house or responding to a tragedy in Camden, New Jersey; or a gifted New York Times reporter learning life lessons from the cop protecting St. Patrick’s Cathedral on Christmas Eve.

Police leave their family celebrations to serve their cities, knowing that they’re often the only ones people can call when they need help on Christmas. Then they go home to families who understand that sacrifice is made so others can enjoy the day.

Retired Baltimore Police Commissioner Fred Bealefeld

Having spent 31 years in the police department, I have a few Christmas memories. But I think my fondest is of my first Christmas. I was a rookie patrolman walking a foot post in the Western District. I was on the four-to-twelve shift. Most of the businesses were closed, and few people were on the streets. It was cold, and the radio was quiet. For all the toughness I was supposed to feel and expected myself to feel, it was a loneliness like I had never experienced.

Midway through my shift, I saw a pickup truck slowly cruising down the block toward me. As the truck passed under a streetlight, I recognized the vehicle and the driver: my dad. He pulled to the curb and blew the horn. I’m sure I looked like Barney Fife shivering in the cold.

My dad was the son of a city policeman and the nephew of a fallen member of the police department. I jogged over to meet him, thrilled at the break in the quiet and loneliness. He had a plate of my mom’s Christmas ham, her mashed potatoes, and a biscuit. I ate that dinner over the hood of his old truck while he beamed with silent pride. It was over too soon, and after a tight hug, he was on his way, and I was back to walking that post. But I was no longer cold and no longer lonely. What a Merry Christmas!

Retired Camden County, NJ Lieutenant Bill Murray

On my second Christmas on the job, my partner and I saw a stolen car. We chased it, and a young man got out and ran. I chased him down the street, into a house, and down into the basement. I caught him in the basement, brought him back up, and everybody in the house was sitting down eating Christmas dinner. It was a funny and weird scene, and they were very cooperative.

Thirty years later, I was teaching a recruit class and told that story. A recruit in the front row told me he was sitting at that dinner table when he was a young kid, and they talk about it every Christmas.

Kansas City, MO Chief Stacey Graves

As chief of police of the Kansas City, Missouri, Police Department, I am fortunate to be able to experience the amazing spirit of service Kansas Citians have — none more so than our longtime community partner Scott LeMaster of “Taking It to the Streets.”

For over 20 years, Scott and his team have assisted KCPD with outreach and support at countless critical incidents, large-scale events, and natural disasters. Scott’s support can include anything from mobile restroom facilities, to drinking water, to hot meals prepared by his team in his mobile kitchen.

Taking It to the Streets is a nonprofit organization completely separate from KCPD, but it shows up to serve KCPD at a moment’s notice, oftentimes in the middle of the night or on weekends.

Each year on Christmas Day, the team of volunteers at Taking It to the Streets sets up their mobile response vehicles at police headquarters to provide a freshly prepared hot meal of grilled steak, sides, and a dessert to any member of KCPD who is working on the holiday and away from their family.

When I see what getting a hot meal and some holiday cheer from a community member means to the hundreds of officers and professional staff working on Christmas, it truly warms my heart.

There are so many bright lights in this community, and Scott and his team shine as bright as any for all the members of KCPD, enabling them to be of service to our community, especially on Christmas.

Each year on Christmas, I am more and more thankful for his service to us, and for the way he brightens the day of the men and women of the Kansas City, Missouri, Police Department who are away from their families serving our great community.

His compassion for our officers reminds me why we come to work each day.

Detective Robert Zajac, NYPD Emergency Service Unit Truck #7

Christmas Day about 10 years ago, we were requested by a precinct sector for a “gain entry.” When we arrived on scene, a family of five was standing in the street talking with precinct officers. The family had just gotten back from Christmas Mass, and they realized they had lost the keys to their house. We were able to pick the front door lock and get the family in from the cold. More importantly, they were able to get back in to celebrate Christmas. They were very grateful we were able to get them back into their house and do so without damaging the door.

Retired Camden County, NJ Chief Scott Thomson

The job has taught us all that the holidays can be an extremely difficult time for some people. About a decade ago on Christmas Eve, an officer, like many of his colleagues, came to work leaving his wife and 8-year-old son at home. His son was asleep, unaware of the gift waiting for him under the tree: the latest handheld gaming device, which the officer had worked overtime and side jobs to afford. His son also happened to be the same age as the boy the officer was about to meet.

Later in the night, the officer was dispatched to a suicide call. A man had taken his own life in the upstairs back bedroom of a house he lived in with family members. When the officer arrived, he noticed a boy in pajamas. The boy, who was the man’s nephew, couldn’t fully comprehend what had happened, only that something terrible had taken place.

Because it was Christmas Eve night, the coroner’s response was extraordinarily delayed. The officer knew the body would eventually have to be carried down the narrow staircase in the rowhouse — a sight no child should witness. Acting quickly, the officer sought permission from his sergeant, who was on scene, to temporarily leave. He drove to his own home, pulled the wrapped gaming device from under his Christmas tree, and returned.

With permission from his sergeant and the boy’s mother, the officer took the boy and his mother into the kitchen, where they couldn’t see the staircase. He handed the wrapped gift to the boy and told him that Santa had brought it to the station early just for him. The boy’s focus shifted to the gift, and he opened it and began playing with it. The officer stayed long enough to keep the boy occupied and shield his line of sight from the other events in the house, then returned to other duties at the scene.

The officer never sought recognition for his actions and was embarrassed when they were brought to light. The on-scene sergeant reported what the officer had done. Moved by the officer’s compassion, the supervisors on the shift pooled their funds — some going to the ATM to withdraw cash — so the officer could purchase another device for his son. The officer didn’t want to take their money, and only did so under direct orders from his watch commander. The supervisors also helped with a strategy for giving the gift a little late, suggesting the officer hide it under the back of the tree the next day and pretend his son missed that present from Santa.

Because of the traumatic events of that night and the officer’s request not to draw attention to his actions, as well as in the interest of protecting Santa’s mystique, we did not publicly post about this story or provide any notice to the media. In fact, this is the first time it’s been told publicly.

Most of society takes for granted the commitment of officers and their families and the sacrifices they make for the job and society, including their willingness to make the ultimate sacrifice.

Sergeant Trak Silapaduriyang, Chicago Police Department Recruit Training and Professional Development

It was Christmas Day early in my career, and I was working the afternoon shift in the patrol division in one of the busiest areas. The usual holiday cheer was in the air, and I expected a quiet night.

Around early evening, my partner and I received a call that changed the course of our shift. A four-story building had caught fire. At first, it seemed like just another structure fire, but as we arrived, we quickly realized this was more than an accident. The smoke was thick and black, billowing into the sky, and people were scattered outside, looking frantic.

I could hear shouts and cries from inside the building. Without thinking twice, my partner and I rushed to lend a hand. We helped evacuate a few community members, guiding them through smoke-filled hallways and out to safety. It was chaotic — people were panicked, children were crying, and some elderly residents needed extra help. But every second counted, and we kept moving, focused on getting them all to safety.

As we worked with firefighters to ensure everyone was out, we began to piece together what had happened. The fire didn’t look accidental at all. It was clear that someone had deliberately set it. The mattress in one of the bedrooms was intentionally set on fire. It didn’t take long before we had a suspect in custody — a person with a history of domestic issues, facing charges of arson.

It was a long evening, filled with exhaustion and the weight of what had happened, but the most important thing was that everyone made it out. I suffered from smoke inhalation; however, I am proud to have been there and to have played a part in saving lives that Christmas Day. It was far from the quiet holiday I had expected, but it reminded me of how important our work is, especially when the community needs us the most.

Yakima, WA Lieutenant Chad Janis

In 2015, I was a detective in the Special Assault Unit. I was at home enjoying a couple days off during the Christmas holidays, but on Christmas Eve morning, I was contacted by the detective lieutenant shortly after 6 a.m. I was sent to one of the city’s fire stations to investigate a newborn child who was left outside the front door, wrapped in only a soiled towel.

You can encounter a variety of weather during this time of year in the Pacific Northwest, from blizzard conditions to balmy 50-degree days. I remember this particular day was bitter cold.

When I arrived on scene, the newborn baby had already been transported to the hospital and was undergoing treatment. Whoever the mom was, it was clear that life had dealt her a set of cards she was not quite ready to manage. The baby was given the name “Baby Evie,” which seemed perfect considering the day. Doctors suspected Baby Evie had only been born a few hours earlier, and would not have survived much longer in the elements.

Like most states, Washington has a “safe haven” law, which allows mothers to take newborn babies to medical establishments, including fire stations, immediately after birth (within 72 hours in Washington) if they are not in a place in life where they can care for a child. This law protects the mother from prosecution as long as the handoff is safe for the child. We are all fortunate that the mom selected a fire station that was occupied on that cold Christmas Eve. And, like any good Christmas story, this one ended with Baby Evie being adopted by a loving local family.

Al Baker, Director of Communications for the New York State Unified Court System and former NYPD Executive Director of Media Relations and New York Times Police Bureau Chief

I have this memory about Christmas and cops. Not from being a kid and waiting at home for my dad, an NYPD cop, to walk in from a twelve-to-eight so we can open gifts on Christmas morning.

No. It’s almost-Christmas 2002. I’m a grown man. And I’m running days and nights on a story for The New York Times. It’s a blur. One minute, that December, I’m at a station house downtown. The next I’m in a bodega off Central Park on Manhattan’s Upper West Side. Then I’m talking murder with detectives in their unmarked car and my pen won’t work it’s so cold. I’m interviewing a gem of a good cop, Vincent Henry, a former police commissioner’s scribe. I’m scribbling notes. I’m filled with wonder. I’m writing on the windshield – which is how writing can be thinking while you’re driving.

But in the parts of the memory I trust and covet most — the scenes that linger, lovingly, in my brain — I’m floating around St. Patrick’s Cathedral, where the beat cop assigned had spent many a Night Before Christmas.

My journalist mission was getting police stories about working Christmas Eve. Every cop who spoke wasn’t just patient, but saintly: Searching. Human. Humbled. Hurting. They spoke of devastation and despair, lives carpet-bombed by crime that brought the Holy Night to its knees. Agonizing scenes of ungodly forensics. Rage. Apathy. Horrific loss. I played youth football with the cop cut down by suicide on Jesus’s birth. Since then, I can only remember his smiling eyes through a crooked facemask on our boyhood fields of green.

But the cop at St. Pat’s guiding my hand into God’s at Advent: and ‘twas better than a light, as the old poem goes. His story of a marriage proposal choreographed for Midnight Mass delivered soaring hope. A pure gift, its telling was, like a barren branch in the winter sun where a cardinal lands: The cops in each story I’d heard that year represented the promise of good in this world alongside so much evil, just as my mammoth father’s return through our door on Christmas morning was the coming home to family of a hero in my wee child’s soul.

Stories about Christmas Eve were shared with me that year. Stories of a night where calm or chaos can both feel disconcerting in the city of New York. The Cathedral Cop’s human account wrought some calm and peace and steadiness and joy.

It was six years later, in December 2008, inside that same Midtown marble monument to faith, that I too proposed to marry. In the rain, in the snow, in all the years in between, the goodness of the Cop in the Cathedral stalks my mind each Christmas Eve. The memory of reporting that story published December 24 plays like a film in my head and maybe at times to the sounds of Shane MacGowan’s voice ringing out about the boys of the NYPD choir singing Galway Bay. Happy Christmas.

I hope you and your loved ones have a wonderful holiday season! I’m going to take a break from this column next week and will return in the new year.

Best,

Chuck