Identity

As I reflect back about what happened, it was day one and I was in a mess already. Five days ago the very first day of my new career. I was on a job down in a broken neighborhood. The houses weren’t houses, they were apartments. The residents weren’t wealthy, they were poor. The children weren’t lucky, they were unfortunate. All I was there for, was to do a routine check which involved driving the patrol car around the blocks a couple few times. No one else would take the task, for reasons I don’t know, but most likely because there was not many reasons to work in a neighborhood with so much crime, but yet so pointless to change it. So, they gave the job to the rookie, the new guy on the team. They gave it to me.

I woke up that sunny morning with a relaxing feeling of relief. Like I had finally found my place in the world. I was a new cop, at a new job. I felt for the first time I could settle down and get things happening on the right track. I felt proud.

I rolled in to a parking lot that was new to me. Parked in a parking place that has yet to have my name in it, but that will have changed over time I hoped. I stepped out of my old aged car, I knew that will change over time too if all went well.

As I entered the police station, my new work place, I punched in at the desk and then took a walk to my new locker that ash yet to be opened. I was there fifteen minutes early because I really wanted to look good in the boss’s eyes. I had wanted to look better tan just the typical on time. The Chief Supervisor of my division spotted me from across the hallway and came over to greet me. We exchanged words on what I like to call common ground up until he realized it came to his attention that I, even on my first day, showed up early before all the rest of our unit did. The officers from night shift haven’t even all left yet. Pazzi, Sgt. Rinaldo Pazzi, Supervisor, Chief Inspector of Narcotics and head of our unit was the first to tell me the task that I had before me that day. He said, “Take out a car son, tell ya what, # 103, and do a couple circles around this block here…” He pointed to a shrine of pictures a couple feet away from his head office. “It’s an area the boys and I’ve been looking at very closely lately. We’re trying to build a major RICO case on a few drug dealers who work out of vacant buildings around there. Of course, crack down on all their buyer’s and user’s we come across while in the process as well.” RICO stands for Racketeer Influenced and Corrupt Organizations Act. It’s the law that was passed in the late ‘70’s to help out our government clamp down organized crime activities. “But don’t worry about anything major kid.” Pazzi said. “It’s just a routine run through check. We do it almost every other day.” “Okay, sure, no problem.” I replied in a smooth cool manner, and turned around right after I gave the Chief a head nod, and then started back to the locker room where I left my belt. Right before I was out of formal talking distance, Pazzi added “But hey bub, if you see anything odd…” I turned around. “If you come across anything you believe is out of the ordinary, just take a note of it.” “Yes that’s fine sir.” I replied. “And if you feel like playing super-cop you can always take a stroll outta the patrol car.” He turned around and left the hall back in to his office expressing a few quite laughs under his breath.

There I drove, in a police car for the very first time by myself. For the first time outside any prior education and training of course. The block wasn’t too far up ahead, I decided to go straight to the job instead of stopping at Roy Roger’s for breakfast. I had woke up too late and got to work too early to eat anything decent. I had taken a shortcut through an alley way which in the end saved me from driving through a couple of busy lights. I figured I could take a ride or two around the block and if there weren’t too many people out, I was going to walk through this neighborhood at least once. However, I knew what type of place this was, but who knows exactly what type of people lived there. What I did know though, was that the type of people from these neighborhood’s didn’t necessarily like people that come from my kind of neighborhood so to speak.

As I approached the street to which I was turning on, the alleyway in which leads us to our newly watched neighborhood, I began to hear noise. Noise that was at first uncertain to me, but as I drew closer, the noises became more clearly. Children playing. Babies. Babies crying. And boys of all ages yelling and shouting. Then as I made the turn, the noises that filled my head with thoughts began to take faces. People came in to picture. People of all ages, each gender and different races. They saw me and I looked right back at them. I tried not to stare. I was