For several years, I prayed for one photographic moment that would grant me credibility. I worked for a leading photography college, but I doubted my ability. I belonged to organizations where other people were recognized around the world, and though people knew me, they didn't know anything I had done. Probably, because I hadn't done anything. I thought that I took "cute little kid photos," but I wanted to be daring. I wanted status.
Then the moment came.
One early afternoon, I was driving north along the Golden Gate Bridge on the bay side. I noticed traffic slowing, and I moved into the right lane. An empty police car blocked the right lane. With the San Francisco Bay on my right, I could see people walking along the bridge.
Then I saw it.
Four police officers were rescuing a man who appeared to have changed his mind about jumping off the Golden Gate Bridge. The man was dangling off the wrong side of the bridge. The four officers were trying to pull him to safety. A woman, who seemed to know the dangling man, was screaming for the police to save him. Even if this started as a practical joke, people don't survive falls from the Golden Gate Bridge, and he was ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE BRIDGE.
Because there was a police car stopped in the right hand lane, it would be easy to stop without interrupting traffic. I had my camera in the trunk, and I have a press pass for my window. The timing was perfect. On a macro scale, the Bay Area was debating whether to spend millions of dollars to install a suicide prevention retaining fence along the bridge walkway. Personally, the story was significant, because my father had committed suicide, AND he was a former law enforcement officer. Even the light was great that day. Everything was perfect, which made my next decision puzzling.
In a blink of an eye, I chose to pull out into traffic. Keep driving, and not interfere.
For months, I struggled with my decision. I figured that I ruined my one chance. I wrote to Jim McNay, an experienced photography educator and mentor. He said all the right things about how some people are meant to tell certain stories while others are meant to drive past accidents. Because of my insecurity, I feared that he really thought, "some people are meant to take real photos and you are meant to take cute little kid photos." Fortunately, I trust him, and I figured that some day I would learn more by not taking the photo than if I had taken it. As usual, Jim was right.
About ten months later, I was on my way to photograph a pre-school for a local community paper, when I noticed a crime scene to the right. This time, instead of turning away, I turned towards it. I recognized the scene quickly; the location was different, but everything else looked like something similar to what police officers encountered when my father committed suicide in Las Vegas. I photographed the scene from a distance, and then I spoke with the sergeant.
The photos below are not dramatic. Some people, who don't know police officers personally, might misunderstand their behavior and think they are relaxing or joking. Some people might even wonder why the police officers are ignoring me. As a child of a law enforcement officer, I see the photos differently. Every officer was aware of every person watching. Every officer was wondering about the victim and his family. Every officer was planning ahead in case something changed suddenly, and every officer was thinking about a former colleague who had committed suicide recently. A few officers might have wondered if their life would reach the same conclusion as the victim and the former colleague. The officers might also wonder how they would explain their day to their spouses and children.
When I spoke with the sergeant, I shared my father's story, and learned more about each officer. People often forget that officers have personal stories. We forget that each officer is a father or mother or son or daughter. And usually, police officers prefer to keep their work life and personal life separate. Sometimes I learned accidentally about my father's career. The first magazine I remember "reading" was the California Highway Patrol journal that my father left on the coffee table. Even in black and white, I remember the gruesome car crash photos. About the same time, I remember my father returning home from the hospital after a motorcylce accident; a semi-truck didn't see him. Two of three other officers helped him into our house; he looked like a mummy. But I never really knew the daily danger. Officers shield this from their families, when they can help it.
A few months after I met the officers below, four Oakland Police Officers were killed during a routine traffic stop and subsequent pursuit. Every time a peace officer is killed, I am sad. When I was a child, my father's best friend was ambushed and killed; my father never recovered. I imagine that every time my father stopped a vehicle, he knew he could be shot. Every time some motorist would ask, "Don't you have something better to do?" I am sure my father had answers these people didn't really want to know.
My cousins joke that my father would never smile once he put on his uniform, but he didn't relax much once he took it off either. He was always on-duty. When we went out to dinner, he always watched the door. He watched traffic. He watched people's behavior. He knew who was dangerous and who was safe. I learned from him. I also learned how to appear relaxed even if I am always watching people, and I am always watching. This helps my photography, but sometimes I have trouble relaxing too.
Before I understood my reasons for driving past the bridge, I wondered if I were weak and stupid. Now I realize that I quickly calculated all the variables and instinctively chose the correct decision for me. Whatever the outcome for the dangling man, the events would have been dramatic, and if I had taken the photo, it might have been a career defining photo, but that isn't how I wanted to define myself... and it isn't how I wanted to define the officers or the person who apparently had second thoughts about ending his life.
Police Story - Images by bryan farley
PS. After I took the photos of the police officers, I went to the day-care, and my camera broke. After thousands of photos, my camera just stopped working. That camera had taken me as far as necessary. I wonder where my current camera will take me.
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