“You see… our daughter has been crying nonstop for days. We can’t calm her down. She keeps saying she wants to see a police officer to confess a crime. She barely eats, she cries constantly, and she can’t explain to us exactly what’s wrong. Forgive me, I’m really embarrassed, but… could an officer spare us a few minutes?”
One of the sergeants overheard the conversation. He walked over and crouched down to the little girl’s level.
“I have two minutes. How can I help you?”
“Thank you so much,” said the father, relieved. “Sweetie, this is the police officer. Tell him what you wanted to say.”
The little girl looked closely at the uniformed man, sobbed, and asked:
“Are you really a police officer?”
“Of course,” he smiled. “Look at the uniform, do you see it?”
The girl nodded.
“I… I committed a crime,” she stammered.
“Tell me about it,” the officer replied calmly. “I’m a police officer, you can tell me everything.”
“And will you put me in jail afterwards?” she asked in a trembling voice.
“That depends on what you’ve done,” he answered gently.
The little girl couldn’t take it anymore; she burst into tears and almost immediately blurted out the thing that left everyone around completely stunned:
