THE GOOD COP. » DENZEL WASHINGTON

One

For Quincy knew of the dangers that his job entailed; for goodness sake, he dealt with purse snatchers, drug dealers, trespassers, and even stone cold murderers- for that is just what his job called for. He was the gold badge wearing, silver handcuffs baring, blue uniform sporting black man that people have come to despise due to those very aspects of him. As a child Q had always looked at police officers as heroes- the good ones, of course- thus leading him to have such a desire to be his very own hometown hero, he yearned to be the people protector but he found that quite difficult to do due to the common belief that police officers were nothing but the devil. Quincy had not wanted that perception to phase him but he found that even more difficult to do as various radio stations continuously played NWA's Fuck The Police and even as he walked down the streets of Queens, noticing the many children run away as if they had seen a ghost. It sometimes killed him on the inside but he figured to change that as he from time to time offered those very kids and others in the neighborhoods some money for food, snacks, and clothes- not that he felt that he needed to nor was he obligated to. . . Quincy simply enjoyed viewing the bright smiles of the youth and even the adults as they titled him as nothing other than. . . "The Good Cop." For that was what the thirty-three year old truly was.

The Good Cop.

The drive to the police station continued as Aaron's brawny right hand gripped the steering wheel as he kept his attention on the road. The calm quietness within the vehicle allowed his mind to wander- thinking of the minor altercation that he and his wife Katerina had been included in a week ago. Although seven days passed he still couldn't get over the entire ordeal. He recalled the ridicule he had endured as he stood at the trains platform alongside his wife as two male teenagers repetitively spewed such disgusting terms at the pair. He simply wanted to take his wife to the city to go shopping for a few leading him to leave his own car at home seeing that Manhattan's city traffic would've been a pain within itself. He felt as though that was a smart decision but he quickly rethought that on the couples way home as the two teenagers titled him and his wife "crackers on the wrong side of town" and "racist pigs" he didn't like it. . . but yet he didn't say anything. Oh, how he wanted to but his wife gripped his arm all too tight- with her Burberry and Banana Republic bags in hand- not wanting him to say anything at all. Katerina was much stronger than him at this point in time, not letting a single word the pair had declared get to her head; she had no desire to let the young men ruin her day. . . although on the other hand Aaron's blood was burning. His wife had noticed him clench his fists and grit his teeth but she knew better than to call him on it in front of the pair. She glanced at the teens- noticing how one was much quieter than the other, this making her feel as though he didn't even want to bother them but it was his friend that looked significantly older than the boy that seemed to be having fun taunting them. Aaron took one good glance at the pair- not noticing the aspect that his wife had before placing his head down. He recalled his pride being swallowed in that very moment just before boarding the train that finally had arrived that would ultimately lead the couple in the direction of their home which was also located in Forest Hills.

Aaron couldn't get the event out of his head. . . He ever so often questioned the audacity the teenagers had that late afternoon. He has yet to fathom the boldness the two showcased - his pride quickly faded away and died at the realization of the fact that this had all happened in front of his wife. How did he look? Weak he supposed. Aaron wanted his pride back. That very pride that his late father had instilled into him at such a young age. The very pride that took him from the young foolish boy he once was to the gold badge baring man he is today. He needed it. . . he yearned for it. This scene hurt his soul so much that he failed to let his feelings of it escape his lips, leaving his best friend unaware of the whole happening and his wife dumbfounded as to how he felt. He wasn't letting this one go. . . his grip was all too tight- similar to the very grip that his wife had on his arm that day. He knew he couldn't let this one go. He just couldn't.