Detective William �Wally� Rolniak, Jr., husband, father of two daughters, was the first Riverdale police officer ever killed in the line of duty. Unfortunately, he probably won�t be the last.
It happens nearly every other day now. A police officer somewhere in the U.S. is killed in the line of duty. It�s so common that it barely makes the news anymore. Certainly when the networks are all caught up in the latest celebrity scandal, the death of a police officer doesn�t make the cut.
So, outside of the south suburbs where Detective Rolniak served his community, and northern Indiana, where he lived with his family, not much was heard. Outside of the brotherhood of police officers, the loss of a fellow officer is no different from anybody else.
But I�m telling you it is!
Very much so.
Who else puts on a bullet resistant vest every day, knowing full well that the uniform makes him/her a target? Who else kisses their family goodbye as they head off to work, knowing they�re praying for a safe return? Who else would stand between you and an outrageously insane person with a knife after you just called him or her stupid?
There were approximately five hundred squad cars from throughout the Midwest at Detective Rolniak�s funeral. Why do they come from so far away for a fellow officer they�ve never even met?
Because of the brotherhood of police officers. Because if they don�t support each other, nobody will. And from where I stand, as the wife waving goodbye with the kids, things are just getting worse.
While more and more cops are being killed or injured on the job, I hear more and more whining about how they do their jobs. Openline callers complain about how much money they make, what cars they should and should not be stopping, how they should be solving the gang problem � etc. Always civilians who know nothing about the job have some very strong opinions about it.
And they don�t even teach their children to respect the police anymore.
And I hear the clicking noise coming from my husband�s ankle as he walks by, a reminder of an altercation with a drunk nearly fifteen years ago, and a middle-of-the-night phone call I will never forget. Nor can I forget the weeks of recuperation, hoping he passes the physical that lets him get back to work. Because if he can�t be a police officer anymore, what else is there for him to do?
Think about it: this is a man who goes to a job that changes every minute of every shift. No call is ever the same, no traffic stop is ever routine. And the rules change, too, the result of improvements suggested by still more civilians who could never actually do the job themselves, nor would they even have a prayer of passing the training program. And all the while, being second-guessed by everybody that crosses his path, and having to wait months, or even years for his employer to settle his contract and come up with an equitable compensation plan.
But what could ever be fair and equitable for the people who are willing to put their lives on the line for anyone who needs their protection?
A little respect would go a long way. And please don�t ever call them stupid.
All text � 2005 Patti Hermes. All rights reserved. No part of this site may be reproduced without the written permission of the publisher and copyright owner. This article was first publised in The Beacon News, February 27, 2004.