Editor’s note: This excerpt is from the memoir and career success book by Chicago police officer Leatrice Woody, “Not Without Love: 7 tasks to check off.” Woody goes behind the badge to tell the story of Ms. Betty, the watch secretary and how everyone wants to be seen, heard, and loved.
Behind the Badge: The Story of Ms. Betty
“Don’t worry about her, Woody. She despises everybody,” another officer warned as I greeted the stone-faced woman behind the desk.
Ms. Betty, our watch secretary, was the gatekeeper of our day — deciding who partnered with who, silently shaping our shifts. No jokes. No smiles. No small talk. Her precision and sternness were legendary. Every officer had a story. None were warm.
She never joined parties, never shared a lunch. She was a fortress. But what I saw was more than her frown. I saw pain. I saw a woman who needed love.
So I gave it — relentlessly.
Every day, I knocked on her door, offered snacks, kind words, juice, even jokes. She said nothing. Threw pens at me. Slammed her door. But I didn’t stop. Ten months in, I finally got a smile. A laugh. A hug.
On our “friendiversary,” I surprised her with cake and a note. “To my Ms. Betty: Today is our one-year Friendship Anniversary. Love you always, Woody.”
I felt like I’d climbed a mountain. But the next day, everything changed.
My watch commander called me in. “Woody,” he said, “Ms. Betty’s gone.”
Gone?
He told me the story that shattered us all.
The night before, Ms. Betty heard a neighbor screaming. Her youngest son, tormented by mental illness, was in the street with a gun. She ran to him. Pleaded. Held him tight. Promised to help him get off the medication that made him feel broken.
But as officers arrived, guns drawn, her son cried out in agony, “I don’t want to live anymore, not like this, Mother.”
She wrapped him in a hug, trying to save him. “I’m a police officer!” she screamed. “Let me help my son!”
She clung to him, hand over hand, trying to stop him.
He said, “Bye, Mother. I love you.”
Then he fired.
The bullet passed through his chest — and into hers.
They collapsed together.
EMS arrived. Her son lived.
Ms. Betty didn’t.
I stood frozen as the commander relayed the details. The strong, unshakable woman I’d spent a year trying to reach was gone. But in her final moments, I saw who she truly was: a mother. A protector. A warrior in pain.
This is the real deal behind the shield.
We wear the uniform. We take the oath. But we carry the same heartbreak as the people we serve. Trauma. Stress. Family struggles. Mental health battles. Grief. The badge doesn’t shield us from life—it just makes us believe we can’t show it.
But we must.
According to a recent study, law enforcement officers are 54% more likely to die by suicide than civilians. The silence, the armor we put on emotionally, can be deadlier than any call we answer.
I now believe Ms. Betty wore that silence like a second uniform—one sewn from years of pain, losses she never shared, and battles we never saw. But love got through. Eventually, she let someone in.
Let that be a lesson for all of us.
If you see a fellow officer struggling — don’t just nod and keep walking. Reach out. Show up. Say something. Love them loud enough that they can’t ignore it. Be the person who won’t let them fight alone.
We’ve all seen the politics in this job. We know about favoritism, silent racism, and internal injustices. Some bring trauma and bias into the badge. But that’s not our calling. Our oath is one of justice, love, and courage.
This job will break you if you let it. But it can also build you if you stand on something greater.
That’s why I chose love.
I didn’t let the unfairness define me. I chose to be the person God called me to be—an officer who served with compassion, forgiveness, and faith.
Ms. Betty reminded me of that. She reminded me that everyone — no matter how closed off — wants to be seen, heard, and loved. Even the toughest among us.
So I say this to you, my brothers and sisters in blue:
Check on each other. Show grace. Extend kindness. Laugh more. Hug when you can. And when you see pain in someone’s eyes—don’t ignore it.
You don’t need to fix it. Just don’t let them feel invisible.
Because behind every badge, there’s a beating heart.
And every heart needs love.
– Woody
Excerpt adapted from Not Without Love: 7 tasks to check off by Leatrice Woody
About the author
Leatrice Woody is a Certified Business Coach and founder of Blue Heart Coaching, with a mission to empower individuals – including first responders, youth, and everyday citizens — through life and business coaching that fosters stronger, more peaceful communities. As a 21-year retired Chicago police officer, she brings deep experience and passion to her work, offering support that uplifts families and the communities they serve. As founder of the Not Without Love Foundation, she is dedicated to bridging gaps between law enforcement and the public through mentorship and a shared hope for equality and lasting change.
Editor’s note: If you or someone you know is struggling or having thoughts of suicide, you are not alone — and help is always available. Call or text the 988 Suicide & Crisis Lifeline to connect with a trained counselor, or chat online at 988lifeline.org. Whether you’re seeking support for yourself or someone you care about, please know that it’s never too late to reach out. You deserve help. You deserve hope. Someone is ready to listen.