I can still picture my son, Daven, dashing towards me that day, his tiny hands gripping a bag of cookies as if they were treasures. He was smiling widely, his eyes sparkling, speaking rapidly.
“Mom, the police officer got these for me!” he exclaimed.
In that moment, it was merely a small gesture—thoughtful, indeed, but nothing that appeared to alter the course of the world. A man in uniform stands in line at McDonald’s, listening as my son requests ten cents and choosing to take action.
“What do you aspire to be when you grow up?” the officer had inquired.
“A basketball superstar!”
“You really need to put in the effort for that.”
That was all there was to it. An efficient and straightforward interaction. A man who unfastened his wallet and, in that moment, revealed his heart to a boy he had never met.
Moments later, that officer—Jeremy Henwood—had vanished. Fired upon while seated in his patrol vehicle.
I will always remember how Daven’s expression shifted when he listened. The transition from excitement to confusion, followed by a weightier feeling—something that no 13-year-old ought to bear.
“Mother…” “I just spoke with him,” he repeated incessantly. “He was simply present.”
How can you convey to a child that being kind does not grant you immunity from challenges? That good men can be lost in a moment? Life, despite its value, often lacks fairness.
I was unable to. I am still unable to.
However, what I can say is this: That single moment lingered in my son’s memory. It molded him. It opened his eyes to the value of kindness, even in a world where good people often do not remain.
Thanks to Officer Henwood, my son—now an adult—embraces that lesson every single day.
In the weeks following the shooting, Daven grappled with understanding it. He frequently mentioned Officer Henwood during dinner, while driving, and before going to sleep.
“Mom, why him?” He was kind.
“I understand, sweetheart.”
“However, he did not commit any wrongdoing.”
“I understand.”
A silence lingered, an emptiness that felt disproportionately vast for a boy so young. He paused his discussion about basketball for a time. Reduced the amount of time spent playing. The light in his eyes faded slightly, and I feared that this tragedy had taken something away from him.
Then, one day, a change occurred. Daven arrived home from school, set down his backpack, and exclaimed, “Mom, I want to do something good.”
“Such as?”
“I’m not sure at this moment.” However, there is something.
He began with modest beginnings. He would assist in carrying groceries for our elderly neighbor. He would join the new kid at lunch, the one whom everyone overlooked. He ceased waiting for others to request assistance—he simply recognized the need and took action.
I recognized Officer Henwood’s influence within him. In subtle ways, he reflected that kindness, ensuring he left the world slightly improved from how he encountered it.
As high school began, Daven rediscovered his passion for basketball. He played with a passion I hadn’t witnessed before, fueled by something more profound than a mere aspiration for the NBA. He put in a great deal of effort, just as Officer Henwood had advised him to do. However, it had evolved beyond merely being about the game.
In his final year, an event occurred that highlighted the profound impact that moment from years past had on him.
On his team, there was a boy named Ramon who did not stand out as the star player. He remained silent, frequently unnoticed. One day, following a difficult defeat, I noticed him sitting by himself in the bleachers, his head bowed. Daven approached and took a seat beside him, even though the other players had departed.
I didn’t catch his words, but I noticed how he leaned in, how Ramon’s shoulders rose just a bit. The following day, during practice, Ramon exerted himself more than ever before.
That night, I inquired with Daven regarding the matter.
“I simply expressed to him that he was important,” he stated. “That single game does not define him.” He possesses something truly remarkable.
A lump developed in my throat. “That was truly generous.”
Daven gave a slight shrug. “It’s what Officer Henwood did on my behalf.”
With the arrival of college, new challenges emerged. Daven received a scholarship to a state university, yet he chose to decline it. He opted to pursue a career in criminal justice. I was taken aback, yet when I inquired about his reasoning, his response was straightforward.
“Good people deserve to wear the badge as well.”
He put in the effort, as he always had, and years later, he completed his studies at the academy. The first time I saw him in uniform, my heart filled with a mix of pride and apprehension. Yet within his gaze, I perceived assurance. He understood the reason behind his actions. He was aware of the one who had guided him onto this journey.
And then, one day, everything came together perfectly.
Daven was on duty when he paused at a small corner store for a quick coffee. A young boy stood at the counter, carefully counting the coins in his hand, his brow furrowed with focus.
“Are you missing something?” Daven inquired.
The boy glanced upward and gave a nod.
Daven promptly retrieved his wallet and gave the cashier several dollars.
“What do you aspire to become as you grow older?” he inquired.
“An individual who fights fires.”
Daven beamed. “Then you must put in the effort for that.”
It was a brief moment. An efficient and straightforward interaction. A man in uniform, revealing his wallet and, in that moment, revealing his heart to a boy he had never met before.
Similar to what Officer Henwood had done for him.
Life often returns to us in unexpected ways. We may not have control over the duration of our lives, but we do have the power to decide the legacy we create. Officer Henwood’s kindness may not have saved him, but it continues to resonate—in my son, in those my son has influenced, and in the many lives yet to be impacted.
Perhaps that is the takeaway. Kindness is not contingent upon what we receive in exchange. It involves sowing seeds in others, even if we might never witness their growth.
If you ever find yourself questioning the impact of a small act of kindness, keep this story in mind.
Indeed, it does. It invariably happens.
If this story resonated with you, please share it. Let us nurture kindness continuously.
