Something To Think About. . .

Yesterday was National Peace Officers Memorial Day and the Jackson Police Department and Mississippi Bureau of Narcotics held ceremonies to honor officers slain on duty.

When I was in high school I had a friend named Brian Kinsey. Brian was kinda odd, just like the rest of our core group of friends, but he was honest, likable and although he didn't say a whole lot at any given moment, you never knew when he was going to drop a few words on you at the best moment, bringing down the house in an instant.

I remember his denim jacket. He was almost never without it. And we would hang out after school, probably watching MTV or riding around trying to find someone who would buy us beer. I remember going to a Kiss concert together and I'll never forget it. Paul Stanley was screeching so loudly that I'm certain he permanently damaged our hearing. Brian and I loved every minute of it.

After high school we parted ways. I was off to college and I'm think Brian went to one of the local community colleges. I would run into Brian every now and then when I would come home to visit. He hadn't changed much. And the years went on. . .

I didn't hear from Brian again until I picked up the Clarion Ledger in October 1997. Little did I know that Brian had become a police officer and I was stunned to find out he was dead. Killed in the line of duty.

Brian was killed when he and his partner responded to a domestic violence call, which are certainly the most dangerous calls to make.

Brian approached the front door of the house and announced his presence. The devil, in the form of Eddie Bassett, answered the door with a point blank shotgun blast, striking Brian and knocking him to the floor. His partner, at the car took cover and before he could return fire, the devil ejected the shell and fired while standing over Brian's body, again at point blank range. If my memory serves me correctly I do no think Brian was wearing a vest. He must have been gone already after the first blast, the second was just plain and simple evilness.

The devil retreated into the house in a hail of return fire from Brian's partner and a standoff began. The JPD S.W.A.T. team arrived and it wasn't long before they breached the home and killed the devil. It is my understanding that very little negotiation took place. Rightfully so.

I hadn't thought about Brian in a long time until last year when I went to the Jackson music festival known as Jubilee Jam which is held outdoors in downtown. I walked past the main police station and out front, etched in granite, was his name along with 12 other Jackson Police Department officers killed in action. My hair stood up.

Brian, I miss you man. And I'm sorry we parted ways when we were younger. I can't somehow help think that maybe things would have been different for you had we not lost contact. I can only assure myself that you are now in a far better place than I am and one day we will meet again. And I will never forget you.