The valley where I was assigned consisted of over a thousand acres of agricultural land and oil wells.  Many farmers moved to the coast and leased their land to large corporations which in turn subcontracted the planting and harvesting. The labor demographics depended on the crop and season.

Small cafes, stores and honky-tonks enticed hard luck women to leave the city's mean streets behind.  Again, the type of men who followed crops and the rough-necks who chased new petroleum contracts made up the labor demographics.  All were hard working, but many were looking for fast cash and a good time.

The rape victim in the call for service was a tweeker slinging booze for a living.  She had three young children to take care of, but she didn’t care about taking care of them.  She needed meth and a stable man of her dreams.

She brought the wrong man home. 

When push came to shove and shove came to slapping and ripping her blouse off, she screamed for help in front of her children as he forced her into the bedroom.

The seven-year-old daughter dialed 911 for help.  A female dispatcher heard and understood what was taking place, thus the code three directive.   

All that being said, there is no real happy ending to my memory.  I am grateful I survived.  However, while the woman suffered violence, there was an active arrest warrant for her from an earlier arrest for prostitution. 

The old farmhouse she rented was beyond filthy; it was vermin and cockroach infested.  There was no appearance of cleanliness and an empty jar of peanut butter stacked on a pile of garbage growing in the kitchen corner was the only evidence of a recent meal.  She alone was responsible for the subtle violence she allowed her children to endure.

I think the hardest thing a law enforcement officer with children can do is take children away from an irresponsible adult and place them into Child Protective Services.  While it is best for both the children and parent(s), hearing children plead to stay with their neglectors is heart breaking.