We had a call at work this morning that went bad. My trainee handled the call appropriately, in fact, she had it in the system within 24 seconds, which is amazing. That wasn't the bad part, it was the end result. It was a domestic violence call in which the mother was telling us her son had a knife. We could hear him repeatedly refuse to put the knife down, and say he didn't care if the officers shot him when they got there. Well, after he charged them, that was just what happened. The officers shot him. And he died. My trainee was upset by the whole thing. She was shaken when she saw that he'd been shot, but she burst into tears and practically ran from the room once she learned that he died. The supervisor called in peer counseling to talk to her, and then let her go home early, but she was feeling better by the time she left. My supervisor came over to me and asked me what happened and how I felt about it. I summarized what the mother said to us, then told her I was fine. Because, really, I wasn't bothered by it at all. I mean, I felt really bad for the parents, but it wasn't something I was going to take home with me and stew about. It's not my life. He charged the police with a knife in his hand and he knew exactly what would happen. But then I started thinking about it, and wondered how and when I got to the point where a 21 year old being shot to death is really just part of the job. And now I'm upset that I'm not more upset.
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