Back in the day when I was a newspaper columnist, there was nothing I could write that stirred the crazies up more than suggesting we no longer lived on a frontier and that there ought to be legitimate restrictions on gun ownership. All these years later, it’s getting worse all the time. I wrote this at Christmas 1996 just after a young LAPD officer was murdered by a kid who was in the process of stealing two six packs of beer.
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A father is dead.
I never met Mario Navidad, the young LAPD officer who was killed in the line of duty just before Christmas.
I never knew he existed until I heard he was dead, but I know there are a lot out there like him.
We call them the Thin Blue Line, the only thing standing between us and anarchy, and I think there’s a lot of truth to that.
We live in dangerous, desperate times. We live in an era when children carry guns and aren’t afraid to use them, an era when it has never been more dangerous to be a cop.
Officer Navidad was little more than a kid himself. He was 27 when he died, a veteran of less than two years on the force. He had a wife and two young children.
He lived in Chino, California.
For a lot of young guys these days, joining the force is upward mobility. It’s a way out of poverty. It’s a way to buy a house and move your family to a safer neighborhood, to give your own children a better childhood than you had.
But escape comes at such a high price.
Every time you go to work, you’ve got to worry that somewhere out there is an idiot with a gun who’d think nothing of ending your life.
The criminal who killed Officer Navidad was 17 years old. He had stolen beer from a convenience store, two six packs. Hardly a major crime.
When he saw the police car, he didn’t even try to escape. He shifted the beer to one hand, reached into his pocket for a semiautomatic pistol and started firing.
Navidad was hit six times. His partner returned fire, killing the assailant. Navidad died on a hospital operating table later the same night, outliving his killer by only a short time.
His children — a 4-year-old boy and a 9-month-old girl — will grow up without a father, all because their dad had the misfortune of running into someone who never knew what it meant to be a man.
I’m sure there are those among you who will wonder what societal pressures led a 17-year-old boy to open fire without warning at two police officers.
I’ve got to tell you, I don’t much care why he did it.
I just want it to stop.
My grandfather was chief of police in a small Ohio town during World War II. He was one of the lucky ones. Except for a modicum of sleaze and sin in the railroad district, Crestline was a pretty quiet place.
He didn’t get killed. I’m not sure if anyone ever even shot at him. He died in his bed at 89.
Yes, he was one of the lucky ones. He saw his children and his grandchildren grow to adulthood, and he even met a couple of great-grandchildren.
Some cops die of old age, but far too many die young. Far too many children of police officers out there are growing up without knowing their fathers.
We owe a lot to the Mario Navidads among us. If you think things are bad now, if you think crime is almost out of control, just imagine what sort of society we’d have if no one was willing to take the risks police officers take every day.
I don’t know how to solve this problem. I’d like to meet someone who does. It’s obvious that poverty, lack of education and a host of other issues contribute to it.
I do know one thing.
It’s far too easy to get guns, waiting period or no waiting period.
Gun advocates say only outlaws will have guns if guns are outlawed. I don’t care about that. I want us to keep guns away from sick, demented children.
Before you pick up your phone to tell me why private citizens should have the right to brandish semiautomatic weapons, take a second and think about this.
Think about Mario Navidad.
And while you’re at it, think about two fatherless children.