I am a 75-year-old white lady, who grew up in Greenville, S.C., the daughter of a policeman. Every time my daddy put on his uniform and left our home, I would pray, "God, please, don't let a bad man shoot my daddy."
The "bad men" in those days were bank robbers, "moonshine runners" and fighters. The crime was nothing then compared to today's crime.
Night or day I would listen for my daddy's whistle -- one of the old hymns -- as he returned home from his shift as a policeman, and I would thank God for another day with my daddy.
As a young girl, I decided I would never marry a policeman or a fireman, knowing that everyday they put on their uniform and go to work they are laying their lives on the line. I don't want to face the fear for myself or my children -- that fear I had as a child. ...
My heart goes out to the family of Alfaigo T. Davis who died after he fled from the two deputies leading them on a chase through Apple Valley.
However, my heart also goes out to the two deputies who were doing their duty, and now have their pictures plastered on the front page of The Chronicle. Also, my sympathy goes out to the families of those two deputies placed on administrative duty pending an investigation, waiting to see if they were "two bad apples in the barrel," or if they were forced to shoot to protect their own lives. Time will tell, but I want to ask the citizens, black and white, to stop and think.
You ask policemen and firemen to protect and help you, just as you ask your doctor to protect and help you.
As a child, I put my hand in the hand of our Heavenly Father, asking protection for my father. Do not condemn those we ask to protect us, if we cannot have faith in the protector and are unwilling to abide by the heavenly laws and the laws of this land.
Kitty C. Hopkins, Augusta
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