P1 First Person: There is hope in the world

Captain John K. Groves
Pulaski County (Mo.) Sheriff’s Department

My hope in humanity has come to the surface again and I can say that people still care and give of themselves. What makes me reclaim this passage? I guess I would have to recall the events of the past week and you would have to make up your own mind if humanity still cares.

One of my jobs is the Chief of Detectives in a Sheriff’s Department in Missouri. I have worked for the sheriff’s department for the past nine years and come to know many of the police officers in the area from different departments. My thirty-seven years experience of both military and civilian police work has allowed me to see the hardness of humanity and what great pain people can inflict upon one another. I had all but give up hope on the human race and its ability to extend compassion to others.

One day last week as I was checking my inbox at the sheriffs department, I ran into a friend and a fellow police officer. He is a corporal with the Missouri Highway Patrol and he was not wearing his usual blue uniform with the campaign hat that accompanies it. Instead, he was in civilian attire, and as I walked up to him with a smile and I asked, “Are you working undercover today?”

His response to me was not his usual comeback with a little bit of a smart twist to it, Instead, he looked at me with a determined look and said, “This is my job for the day!” He handed me a letter obviously written in the hand of a child — it was block-printed by a young child in pencil. I glanced at it quickly and then looked at him. I had not read the contents of the letter, I was more inquisitive of why he would have such a letter in his possession. I asked him why he had a letter of a child and what kind of mission was he on.

I looked down at the letter again and began to read the contents of it. The writer was asking Santa to please bring items such as food, clothing, and simple things we take for granted every day. The spelling was simple, not always accurate, but the feelings of pain and maybe desperation were in the context of it.

I looked back to my friend and asked him what it was all about. He told me he knew a gentleman who was a mail carrier and while making his rounds, a small boy confronted him at the front door a house. The boy had obviously been waiting patiently for him to arrive to collect and deliver the mail to his home. The boy was about ten or eleven years old and he held the letter printed on child’s notebook paper.

The young boy asked the postman if he could please give the letter to a police officer. The postman asked why. The little boy, with eyes gentle but intent beyond his years, said, “I send a letter to Santa each year, and for the last two years he did not answer it and my grandma needs help.” The postman asked him why he needed to deliver it to a police officer and the little boy said, “Police officers always help people, so they must know Santa Claus and the police officer would get the letter to Santa.”

The mailman talked to the grandmother to find out the true story and it seems the young boy and two of his siblings were living with the grandmother in a small rented house. The home they previously occupied in at another town was too expensive for the grandmother to afford the rent so, they moved to the smaller town and smaller house.

The grandmother also told the postman the boy’s mother had come up missing three years before in Texas and she had not been seen since. The family was basically destitute and the prospect of another Christmas without presents and a joyous dinner was imminent. The postman accepted the letter, contacted my friend the trooper and told him, “I am not sure what you can do with this but this boy has faith in police officers.”

I looked down at the letter and included with it was a flyer with a picture of a young woman and there bold letters of “MISSING” posted across the top of it. The information gave the basic physical description of the woman and the period she disappeared. This was the young boy’s mother!

I asked my friend what he was going to do and he said he had contacted the local grocery store in the town where the boy lived; they were donating food to the family. I asked him what about the rest of the items on the list and he said he was going to ask other officers for help. I reached into my pocket and took out my billfold and handed him money and told him if that was not enough to let me know. I also told him I would contact other officers to see if they could help.

I made one call to a friend of mine who is part owner of a corporation and he said, “Get me a copy of the letter and we will see if we can fill his list!” That man was a reserve police officer in an adjacent county.

I then called my youngest son who is a police officer in north county St. Louis and told him the story of the boy. My son, who has been a police officer for eight years, told me he would call me back. My cell phone rang about an hour later and he said, “Dad, send me a copy of the letter and the departments in the area will help, too.” He offered his own money in order that the family might realize one year of comfort and peace.

I called my friend the trooper back the next day, he told me he had such an out pouring of support from other troopers and officers in the area that the family would be well cared for now. He thanked me for the help and the thought of officers from as far away as St. Louis stepping up to offer assistance was almost too much for him. His voice quivered with emotion and he told me thanks and Merry Christmas.

As I hung up the phone, I sat for a moment and realized what had just happened. A bunch of battle-hardened cops just took on the persona of one of the greatest consummate beliefs of good of our society: Santa Claus! I also thought of the child’s words to the postman, “Give the letter to a police officer because they help people and they must know Santa!”

I realized how much the better my life was for that short period, and the stoic faith a child can have in good. Maybe we should all take a lesson from a child’s view of life.