It started with a domestic dispute.
I warn you: my husband has been known to say that I don't just beat a dead horse to make a point. I will beat it, bury it, dig that poor horse back up again, and then start all over.
And sometimes I'm hard to take.
I get it.
I don't even mind it. I am tenacious at best.
Relentless when I'm at my very worst.
But I will tell you something with no shame whatsoever: I will never back down when I know I am right, especially for the sake of something righteous.
I admit; I am pedantic at times.
Therefore I will say this again: it all started with a domestic dispute.
Those things that happen to other people...those disturbances that so many New Yorkers pretend not to hear through the wall...the hard truth that hits on all levels.
Now an NYPD Sergeant is dead.
Yet Another Officer is...dead. He will not be going home to his wife and children ever again. Our Department will attend another funeral this week, the bunting will be brought out, the candles will be lit.
All because a career criminal was out on the street (don't get me started here) and chose to terrorize his estranged wife and then, in a split-second, chose to take the life of one of our own.
And it's not okay.
Our Officers are constantly berated; they are a target in a world gone wild, and they are certainly not fodder for the various Idiots that may be running our Illustrious City, but do not have a clue.
I would say more, but the horse needs a break, and I'm a Cop's Wife who is tired of seeing her husband off to a funeral.
RIP Sgt. Paul Tuozzolo.
You deserved better.