I think that most of the people who believe police violence is impersonal have never experienced it.

The intimacy of being wrapped up, a tangle of bodies as people on the street stop to stare.

The smell of blood and sweat, burning your nose.

The spit in your face from a person yelling, inches from you.

The sound of fast breathing from not just him but your partners too.

The volume of a command, repeated despite the knowledge that there will be no compliance.

The crackle of a Taser cartridge, finally stopping the fight.

The release of adrenaline as you stand around and realize how fast things happen.

The smell on your uniform, in your hair, on your partners, that lingers as a reminder as the aftermath stretches on for hours for an incident that didn't even take minutes.

In some worlds to come home smelling of another man would rock the foundation of a relationship.

In my world, it starts with a text message - I got in a fight but I'm ok.

It is followed with a phone call, speaker phone shut off so the kids don't hear the details. A promise to come home on time.

Another text later, when you're supposed to be there, saying you must come home.  Your place is here tonight for there are small ones that need you.

An embrace at the front door before heading straight to the shower.  Acknowledgement that violence is intimate, and when you are wrapped up in such a violent embrace you will carry the smell of another's fear in your hair, on your uniform.

Until you wash it away and take your place.  Here, at home, because your work out there is done for the day.