Dear Chicago Police,
It’s been about a year since I called you. It was the first time he had ever hit me. I am not a punching bag so I called you, because that’s what people do to make violence stop. I had been staying at his house and my animals were in his house.
I didn’t ask you to arrest him, I didn’t ask that you press charges, I asked you to help me retrieve my babies and I would call a cab and never return.
You showed up, you told me to calm down and then questioned my sobriety. You did not help me get my animals and you drove me half way to my house at 4 am.
I want you to know that you helped continue the cycle. I want you to know that I had to beg, plead, apologize and agree to things I didn’t want to in order to get my animals back.
I want you to know that I am still stuck in this relationship. I want you to know that the abuse not only continued but escalated. I want you to know I have PTSD. I’m writing this because a Chicago police officer recently told me that domestic abuse is considered one of the top priorites of the CPD. I want to know why I wasn’t a priority that night. There were two of you one older officer and a younger one. The younger officer empathized with me, I will never forget staring into those incredibly black eyes as the older officer sucked up my significant others bullshit. It hurts me to know that night a young Chicago cop learned the lesson to ignore the cries of help and to continue the cycle of abuse. You were supposed to be my line of defense. Calling you when I did was supposed to avoid all the bruises I’ve endured, missed days at work, and in general a horrific existence.
I didn’t ask you to charge him, arrest him, or do anything more than help me. To any officer or a person in the position of authority please help the first time because that should be the last time. I’ve never called the police again. I just don’t believe they will help. I will live my violence and I will end it on my own. It would have been easier a year ago.