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Dear Mr. Wilson by Tantroo

Tonight I want to do something a little different. An open letter to a human being who is free in body, but caged in spirit. Afraid and isolated for the wrong he committed against another, and uncertain of what the future holds for them.

So I begin this letter by saying:

Dear Mr. Wilson,

I am not a police officer. I don’t know what it is like to wake up every day with the feeling this day could be the one where you take the call. The call that could be your last. Or, on the other end of the spectrum, that sense of duty to one’s community that can overcome that fear of having to make that sacrifice. The one that eclipses the foreboding and allows one to get through the day. The sense that you are working to make your community a better and safer place.

But I hear stories. From others who became officers. I hear the stories of why their careers chose them.

So I begin my letter with an assumption: that your story is similar. You joined the police force to make a difference in your community. To make your city and county a safer place in your own small way. To make a difference.

We both know now that the path you wound up down was not the one you imagined. You probably had dreams of becoming a revered officer. One who did his job well and kept his head held high. Your record before this month shows this.

It may seem unfair, that one mistake is all it takes to have the house you built from all your years of training and hard work burn up in flame. Your dreams now mere ashes in the wind.

You now stand frozen, unsure of what to do. You were given freedom by your superiors, but you don’t feel free. You feel imprisoned. Imprisoned by media. Imprisoned by your community. You can’t even talk to your friends because they’ll talk to the radio about your conversations. But you find comfort in your family during this scary time so you stick by them. Mourning your dream that had died on the fateful day.

That feeling of imprisonment your feel, Mr. Wilson, I assure you you’re not alone in feeling that.

While you’re sitting at home with now, your fellow officers are putting in overtime. Overtime that comes with a heavy price. They face psychologically challenging conditions where they have to perform their duties of maintaining the peace but while trying to maintain public relations. I assure you Mr. Wilson, your fellow officers would rather things go back to the way they were. Where the press wasn’t swarming. Where they weren’t afraid that if one of their fellow officers make one wrong step that the whole city and country will bear down on them worse than they already have.

They would rather just come in, pull over some road-raging speeders, deal with one shouting idiot in their car, write the ticket, and call that a day. No one wants to deal with a crowd, throwing things at them, shouting at them from all directions. No one wants to wear really heavy gear in summer weather. Heck, paperwork in a nice air conditioned office seems like a infinitely better day, despite how mundane it may be.

But they can’t go back, and I have bad news for you Mr. Wilson. Your fellow officers are suffering through this. Their morale is taking blow after blow. Heck, there’s probably at least one snarky officer verbally wondering if they too could get some paid leave if they dispatched a peaceful civilian. Poor taste? Of course, but we all know that snarky co-worker typically says things in poor taste. But they have a point, Mr. Wilson. Is what you did deserving of a vacation?

For you, Mr. Wilson, they march day in and day out. They have press conferences. Call in help from the National Guard. They expend vast quantities of tear gas, and gas for their heavily armored vehicles. All the expenditure, Mr. Wilson, is because of you.

I don’t believe, as an officer yourself, that this is what you wanted. To feel like a hinderance to the team. That because of you there is chaos and unease in the community. You wanted a safer community, but now it is because of you that it is untrusting of the ones sworn to protect it.

At this point you may feel my statements unfair. You didn’t mean to do what you did. You can’t undo it. Do what good is my pointing this out to you?

I respond to this by saying it is not the fact you shot that man that this is happening. That is not the root cause of it. It is instead, Mr. Wilson what you are doing now. Or more specifically, what you are not doing.

When we hear about an officer sacrificing themselves for their community, we typically think of someone who died in the line of duty. One who took the bullet that they should not have had to. Mr. Wilson, what I ask of you is no small task. I ask of you to make your own sacrifice for the good of your community.

This uneasy freedom you have right now? Is it worth the strain to your fellow officers? To the justice system? Or would you stand up and do what you must for this community?

Turn yourself in, Mr. Wilson.

You’re already in a sociological cell, so all I’m asking is that you place yourself in a more physical one. I’m not asking you to plead guilty or to confess to anything. You have a right to a trail. However, you should be detained until that trail. Is your current state of ‘freedom’ worth the pain your fellow officers and community are going through right now?

If you simply do this I feel that the chaos will calm down. You Mr. Wilson, through your own actions will have done what the governor, the activists, the politicians, the press, and the officers in armor could not do. You, through allowing yourself to be held in lock up until your trial will have created peace in Ferguson. You will have made the sacrifice for your community. What a true officer would do.

Obviously you’ll have people who still won’t forgive you for your acts. But some will feel that your act would be a step on the right path towards redemption for what you have done. For now, I don’t see much to lose by doing this necessary action to ensure the peace of the community.

You have the capacity to take ownership of your regrets, and to act against letting them weigh you down. To redeem yourself in the eyes of justice and peace. To set a precedent which will create more trust for the men and women in uniform. You’re alive Mr. Wilson, you can still take actions to make the world a better place. Show the world what it means to be alive, and to move forward.

And I hope you will do just that.

May you consider the path ahead with great conviction,
Tantroo McNally

Dear Mr. Wilson

Tantroo

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