Note: this is a guest column by Joseph Scott Morgan, a former senior investigator at the Fulton County medical examiner's office. He now teaches forensic science at the University of North Georgia and is the author of "Blood Beneath My Feet: The Journey of a Southern Death Investigator."  

Recently in Atlanta, Reese Witherspoon and her present husband were pulled over. Witherspoon's husband had apparently drawn the attention of the officer because of his inability to operate his motor vehicle in a manner that the police officer deemed incompatible with Georgia State Statue. After stopping the vehicle and her husband was removed from the vehicle for an apparent field sobriety test, Ms. Witherspoon asked, "Do you know who I am?" 

If I could ask one question of the person who embodies modern Southern womanhood to those who dwell in the studios of California, it would be:

"Do you know who the Atlanta Police are?"

Having worked along side the Atlanta Police Department for 14 years I have a bit of insight.

My first thoughts drift back to one occasion in the Grady Emergency Room. I stood over the body of a dead female Atlanta Police officer, her blood dripping onto my electric blue rubber gloves, contrasting the horror of her death with the pain and anger of her colleagues. Sitting in the family room with her family and seeing their tears, no words were sufficient. My offerings were nothing but babbling.

The sensation of the wind blowing over my skin in the Grady curve as I stood over the dead body of an Atlanta Police Officer struck by some person rushing to get to some place that didn't matter. The blue uniform stained by the black of the tires and the blood of his vessels. Nobody on the Connector stopped to weep. 

The ramshackle apartment where the young Atlanta Police Officer lived for free, providing security because his marriage was at an end due to alcoholism and depression. His head split open by his own service weapon because of the pain and loneliness that no one else understood.

Sitting in the filth of Midtown Atlanta outside of a mission. There I stood, a grown man listening to the tear-filled sobs of the Atlanta Police Officer who had to take the life of an insane homeless man who refused to drop his weapon. I had no means to console or comfort . The officer was escorted away to be questioned by the Office of Professional Standards, fearing the loss of a job, presentment of charges and the judgement of God for having end another person's life.

Standing next to a homicide detective feeling his anger over the raped and destroyed body of an 8-year-old girl. Having no answers to the big questions, he did have an address of her family that he had to visit. "Whys" were thrown at him like grenades. He stood there and absorbed their full impact and yet he drove on, promising to soothe their pain with capture. 

I do know who the Atlanta Police Department and their officers are.  

Sincerely, 
Joseph Scott Morgan 
Senior Investigator (Retired)
Fulton County Medical Examiner's Office