This column was contributed by the San Benito County Sheriff. The opinions expressed do not necessarily represent BenitoLink or other affiliated contributors. Lea este articulo en español aqui.
“Beep, beep, beep… 2-3, Watsonville, respond with fire and AMR to 610 Tuttle Avenue for a baby not breathing.”
This is a call I responded to years ago. This was just one call, for one cop, at one department. But these are the calls all in public safety get more often than you would, or should, imagine. These calls take a toll. They forever change you and there is no going back.
When I arrived, I saw a lifeless two-year-old girl in her father’s arms. She had black curly hair, baby soft brown skin, and was noticeably “chunky” in her white diaper. It is strange the things that become vivid in memory. The family was in a panic, understandably. I saw a light red and cream-colored fluid around her mouth and on her clothes. I would later find out it was liquid medication and formula the baby had aspirated on.
Medics arrived and took the little angel from her father’s arms and began working their heroics as our medics and fire personnel do every day. True heroes. As they ran out of the apartment, I had hope they would be able to save this child.
However, as is so often in police work, I had to prepare for the worst. My former Deputy Chief, Kim Austin, taught us to treat every scene as a homicide scene because you can never go back later and collect what you missed. So, I began to collect the medication, formula, bottle, and bedding as evidence. I took pictures of everything and responded to the hospital to conduct my interviews of the family. This causes a strange, immediate shift in mindset from seeing a baby who needs help to preparing for a homicide investigation. But that is how our minds must work, we must always be suspicious. If not, we miss things and victims lose out on justice.
When I got to the hospital, I saw the medical team working to save this little baby. The family was kept in the waiting room as to keep them from unintentionally interfering with the staff. Then I heard it, the doctor “called it” and noted the time. I knew then the child had not survived. My partner and I had to retrieve the family from the lobby and inform them their baby had passed. Few things in life are more difficult than to have to deliver that news.
Then I watched as this family grieved, holding their lifeless baby, an unimaginable pain. A call was made to the coroner and they would be responding from Santa Cruz so it would take some time. “What do we do?” This question amongst us cops was a true question as to what exactly was best for everyone. Do we take the baby? This could be a homicide. What a terrible thought, right? These people had just lost their 2-year-old baby, and we were supposed to suspect foul play? But what if it wasn’t criminal, how then can we interfere in their grieving?
We opted to step out of the room, close the curtain and let the family caress their baby and say their goodbyes in private. After all, the deputy coroner would be there soon and would have to take the child from them. It was a gamble but it was a gamble in good faith.
I would learn this beautiful little girl was named Bella. I collected the family’s information, helped the family transition the child to the deputy coroner and made sure they had “resources” to help them navigate this process. Shaken and sad, I left the hospital and went on to the next call, then the next, then the next. Then we go home and must act “normal.” For those wondering, this was a case of SIDS, an unexplained end to a life that just started. Nothing criminal or negligent had happened to her.
Not long after Bella passed, my family and I were celebrating Dia de los Muertos at Valley Catholic Cemetery in Watsonville. Right next to my wife’s grandmother’s grave, who had also recently passed, was baby Bella. Talk about serendipity. I knew, in that moment, Abuelita Esperanza was going to take care of Bella and they were destined to be next to each other. That brought me immediate comfort as I still had not processed that call. But in that moment, the call came back to the front of my mind.
Months later, my nieces were visiting from Southern California. My one niece, Aubrey, was two years old and very “healthy” (chunky). She was tired and was in need of a nap. Anyone who knows me well, knows I cannot pass up the opportunity to hold a baby. So, I took her to the couch to take a nap while I held her. It was a warm day, and she had been running around in just a diaper. She fell asleep. As I watched TV with her sleeping on my chest, I looked down at her and saw black curly hair, baby soft brown skin, and her noticeably chunky body in her white diaper. I began to sob, almost uncontrollably. In that moment I was holding Bella. To this day I get emotional about it. She will never leave my thoughts. Strangely in my career I would lose two more baby Bellas. One to murder and one to drowning.
This was not written for sympathy, its just offered as a glimpse into what we deal with in our jobs. It is something we don’t talk about enough. The trauma your public safety members experience and endure, has been ignored for far too long. Yes, police, fire and medics make good money, have good benefits and enjoy a nice retirement. However, that comes at a great cost. We suffer from addiction, have high rates of divorce and suicide and usually die soon into our retirement years. Our bodies are also broken from years of wear and tear. It’s an amazing job but there is a reason so few want to perform it.
As this county continues to recover from some budget mishaps, I wanted to express my gratitude for every first responder we have in our community. As Deputy Coroners in our office, the men and women who work for me see death at a rate few could comprehend. Some of the most incredible praise I receive for our deputy sheriffs is the way they take care of our community during times of loss.
You will see me become increasingly more vocal about how these men and women need to be prioritized in the county budget. I do feel our board takes this topic seriously and wants to do the right thing. I also know their hands are somewhat tied with such a limited revenue stream. So please, understand, the more we invest in the Sheriff’s Office, the less we will have to go around for other amenities in our county. But the men and women who suit up each day to keep you safe and to be there for you in your worst moments, deserve your support and the support of our county leaders. And as we go forward and my office is increasingly used as a pawn in political infighting, know the true value of your Sheriff’s Office is not me, the guy at the top. It is the men and women who serve you 24-hours a day, seven days a week, 365 days a year with limited resources and below average compensation. I am here to be their champion and they deserve to be prioritized.
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