It is 3:00 a.m. and the streets are now quiet but I’ve got a destination. I slow down the patrol car as I round the corner into a residential area and glance briefly at the street sign though I know exactly where I am. As I catch myself looking at the sign I wonder if my glance was merely my way of hopefully delaying my task at hand. I make a face at myself because I know that it’s true; I don’t want to be here.

I don’t speed up the patrol car as I move toward my destination but drive slowly looking at the houses next to the street. Nice home, nice cars and I suspect, nice happy families. But I don’t have a nice job to do. Everyone is probably sleeping but I know that I will be waking someone from that sleep and won’t make them happy - sometimes I really dislike this job.

I wanted to be a police officer because I thought I would be helping or at least that is what I told myself. Maybe it really was because there is a certain excitement that goes with being a policeman. But it isn’t all exciting, sometimes it is down right boring.

I can handle the boring but this part of the job I never signed up for. No one told me everything that I would be doing as a police officer. Though I probably would have become an officer anyway, jobs like the one at hand would certainly make me stop and think - as I’m doing as I slowly pull to the curb in front of the right address.

Quietly close the patrol car door so as not to wake up the entire neighborhood, straighten my tie and tuck my hat under my arm. I really do hate this. It’s dark even though there are street lights not far away. At least the weather is nice, but maybe that is part of the reason I’m here. If the weather was bad maybe I would still be doing the boring part of police work.

As I approach the darkened area of the front door of the house, I hesitate wondering if I should knock or if I should use the door bell. Dumb, dumb, just ring the bell. I really don’t want to be here.

As the door bell sounds inside, I secretly hope that no one will be home. But I hear a distant noise inside and see a light from the back of the house. As someone nears the front door, I hear a faint shuffling on the other side of the front door. I sigh to myself, take a deep breath and unconsciously reach to check my necktie - it’s straight.

"Who is it?" came a man’s voice from the opposite side of the closed door.

"Police sir". Should I say something else, I don’t know. As I wonder if I should say my name, the door unlocks and I see a man peer at me through a crack in the door.

"May I talk to you sir?" He is hesitant, but so would I be at this time of the morning if someone rang my door bell.

"I’d like to come in and talk to you for a moment." The door closes slightly as the man releases the chain on the door. I’m glad the man didn’t want to try to have me talk to him through the small crack in the door. I really don’t want to be here.

As the door opens, I step up into the doorway, I don’t want to stand at the door. I need to get inside. "Sir, I’d like to speak to you and your wife, if you don’t mind".

"What is it? What’s going on? I don’t understand."

"Is your wife at home sir?"

"Yes she is, but what is this about?"

"Sir, it would be best if I spoke to both of you, if you don’t mind" I said as pleasantly as I possibly could. In my mind I almost felt like I was pleading - I really don’t want to be here. I then heard a lady’s voice down the hallway leading toward the back of the home.

"Who is it honey?" she said.

†"The police. He wants to talk to us, both of us".

The lady walks sleepily toward the front door as both her husband and I watch her slowly moving toward us. She naturally, steps up to her husband and perhaps instinctively put her arm around his waist. They both turn and look at me.

"I need to speak to you about your son, can we please step into the living room". Fortunately, I can see that we are at the living room, so I step toward room and motion toward the couch. Without asking I sit on the edge of a big chair near the couch, hoping that they too will sit down. Following my lead, both sit on the couch.

I’ve rehearsed this moment for the last 20 minutes and thought of a hundred different things to say. I haven’t been trained for this. Why is it my job? Why me? Why is it that I have to be the one to cause the hurt that I’m about to cause? All of this I think about in the millisecond that I watch at the two parents staring at me. It’s me because it is a part of my job and there is no-good way, no easy way, but it must be said.

"Your son was killed in a car accident about an hour ago".

I wish that I could say that this only occurred once in my career as a law enforcement officer, but this was not to be the last. Unfortunately, I think that I remember them all. Not just the task that I had to perform but the devastation caused to the family by the news that I brought. Most difficult to understand in all of this was why I had to be there in the first place. Kids having fun, driving around usually with friends ‘just having a good time’. A good time that ended in tragedy.

I no longer have to wake up parents to bring them the news of their child being killed in an unnecessary car accident but the memories will live with me a long time - but never as long as the memories of the parents who lost their children.

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Steve Cilenti was a police officer for the City of Redding for much of his 20 plus years in law enforcement. Steve retired as the Amador County District Attorney in 1999 and now practices law in Jackson.