WITH HELEN DRIVING like a bat out of hell, lights and sirens blaring, we get to Gladys’ in just over five minutes. Helen jumps out of the car, weapon drawn, and dashes up the walk to the front door.
I stay in the car, continuing my Rosary, waiting until she clears the scene. Television makes it look heroic for someone to run in and help, but the truth is you put people in danger when you do that. One of the things that I’ve learned from dating Helen and being police chaplain is that the safest police work does not take place when someone goes rogue, like I did just a month ago at the church, but when everyone follows procedure.
So that’s what I do now, fingering the beads, muttering Hail Mary after Hail Mary, for Helen’s safety, for Gladys, and for whatever has happened. I hear sirens ap
