In his head, Captain Thompson shook his head affectionately at his most complex patient … why a colonel with a Special Forces and JAG background would choose police officer as his first civilian career in the first place made all the sense in the world and absolutely no sense at the same time … but see, it was Colonel Henry Fitzhugh Lee who had done that, and Colonel Lee, just like his relative of that same rank just before the Civil War, just had to be, as the young people said, “all extra and brand new.”
Colonel Lee had wisely chosen a desk job – a captain solely involved with using department resources as they were available to solve the embarrassing backlog of cold cases that his choice of police department in Big Loft, VA had to offer.
“A glorified data manager,” he had described it to his therapist. “Should be regimented enough for me to have good structure, and safe for everyone all around.”
Nope. Newly minted Captain Lee had solved the first case out of cold case in a week, which then brought to everyone the question of why someone hadn't done that before.
And then, someone had put forward a Freedom of Information Act request that was going to surface the answers.
And then, all war broke loose, to the point that the glorified data manager ended up killing the commissioner of police in the course of the commissioner's arrest. The glorified data manager kept his job because everyone was too scared to fire him – two later appointees literally died of the fear.
The glorified data manager thus justified his nickname from Special Forces and JAG in his civilian life thus far – the mild-mannered officer and gentleman was still very much the Angel of Death.
And yet, the Angel of Death had not killed in personal combat the type of man that everyone thought should be killed – a would-be mass shooter who had actually shot Colonel Lee in the process of being subdued.
The Angel of Death had subdued the man without killing him anyhow, and couldn't figure out how, or why.
“I mean, I should have, given my conditioning, and the circumstances,” he was saying.
“Well, let's unpack this, Colonel. Tell me your initial thoughts, from the moment you perceived the threat to when you had Lieutenant Dobson in hand.”
Colonel Lee's memory for everything was crystal-clear unless he was having a PTSD/bipolar episode or a blackout – the two were interlinked, but if neither were in play, the things he knew about his own thinking were sometimes stunning.
“I was thinking of how much I love the kind of work I am doing at the church, and at the Veteran's Lodge, and how I wanted to talk with you about declining the business opportunity to build a new division of my brother-in-law's company in New York. I was going to bring it up to Maggie [Maggie Thornton, his fiancee] that evening, because she knows we can live on consulting fees I'll be getting from both Morton Technologies and the Army.
“Then, I saw the car – from the erratic way it was being driven, I could tell that the driver was clearly intoxicated, so not in his right mind. Because the church runs a battered women's ministry, it does get occasional visits from angry ex-husbands, and that happens more often than people come driving up desperate to be saved from their sins, so I just told the people who could get inside to get inside and the rest to get down. I knew the men who have the charge would be backing me up momentarily, but it just so happened that I was out front bringing out the next 100 lunches at the moment.
“I am the commander of the Blue Ridge precinct, and I know the profiles of the men dismissed because of their brutality just before I was appointed interim commander. I thus recognized Lieutenant Dobson, recognized he was a serious threat, and closed with him accordingly, largely sidestepping his attempt to shoot me – he was drunk, and I didn't give him enough time to aim properly anyhow. Once I had the gun out of his hand, that took care of the danger to anyone else, and then I slammed him onto the roof of his car with sufficient force to overcome his resistance.”
“But, you didn't kill him,” Captain Thompson said.
“No, I didn't. I could have, but somehow I didn't.”
“It didn't occur to you to do that.”
“No, it didn't.”
“Let's go back to some things you said and some things you didn't. You just told me the point when you neutralized him as a threat – you got the gun out of his hand, and that was that. He was no longer a threat at that point, and you knew that.”
“Yes.”
“Here's what you didn't say. You didn't say that Maggie was out there with Mrs. Dobson, even though I know she was.”
“You're right, Captain, she was there, but it wasn't an issue.”
“You didn't say you flashed back to battlefield X, Y, or Z.”
“No, I didn't.”
“So, you had no reason to kill him, and you had no impairment of fear or rage to make you think that you needed to.”
“Ah … I am still mystified, but I think I see where you are going.”
Captain Thompson smiled slightly.
“Obviously, Colonel, you have lived the life of a violent man – you don't get the title of the Angel of Death playing pattycake. You are a professional killer, one of the best this country has ever had in its service.”
“Correct. I am. It is a terrible responsibility.”
“That's the point, Colonel. You see it as a grave responsibility. You're not ashamed of it, but you don't feed your ego on it. You never got to the point of enjoying the fact that you can not only dominate but destroy anyone without similar ability around you, but because you know, you walk around not afraid of the vast majority of other people on earth.
“Do you realize how many people – tons of Black men like me, but people across racial lines as well if you check the data – are brutalized or dead because some officer said, 'I feared for my life'?”
“I am aware, Captain.”
“Do you realize how many officers are walking around with a badge and a gun and with unrelieved traumas and fears, fearing for their lives every day, enraged about whatever they feel is going wrong in their world, and then meeting a situation like you met – or any situation that triggers that rage and fear?”
“There must be a fair number of officers so afflicted, given what keeps happening in that other data to innocent citizens brutalized and dead.”
“Our whole society can't figure out why you didn't kill Lieutenant Dobson, Colonel Lee. In my community, people would be quick to default to, 'well, he was White – Captain Lee would have killed a Black man without thinking about it!' But the reality is, with your actual conditioning, that wouldn't have made the difference. The only explanation is this: you didn't go in with fear or rage. You didn't go on your triggers. You went on your tactical assessment skills, did the harm necessary, and stopped.”
“So, I didn't kill him because I'm healing,” Colonel Lee said.
“And we wish that every man carrying a gun or badge or under oaths anywhere in the world that same healing, Colonel,” Captain Thompson said. “We wish, for the safety of men like myself and the public in general, that men would take the time and do the work and get the support to heal instead of taking their fear and rage out in positions in which they can break and kill people nearly without impunity.”
Henry Fitzhugh Lee thought about that for a long time, and then sighed.
“I leave clear about my own situation and grateful to God, but still more mystified than ever about something else: how long will we say a society that knows nothing about the expectation that men and women should be encouraged to heal before taking on responsibility for the lives of others is itself healthy, and at peace?”
“Only God knows, Colonel,” Captain Thompson said. “The current societal taste for denial is as strong as it has ever been. I have an even better question for you, though: how long will it be before the truth makes itself felt in no uncertain terms?”
In December 2019, the answer was nearer than either man could dream.
The graphic was designed by the author, Deeann D. Mathews