The Policeman in the Pew

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AMONG THE PEOPLE I remember from the parish where my wife and I were married, one still stands out in my mind. That was over 45 years ago, but the memory is still clear: a policeman, probably in his mid-forties, who bore a passing resemblance to a dark-haired Timothy Olyphant of popular series such as Justified and Deadwood.

I don’t recall his name, and I don’t think I ever even spoke to him. But I do remember seeing him every Sunday at Mass. Although my own work schedule rarely permitted me to attend daily Mass, I was told that after what happened he became a daily Mass-goer.

This true story has stayed with me over the years, and I believe it will offer comfort and encouragement to anyone who finds himself in danger of being swept away by the storms that so often follow in the wake of sin’s chaos.

Picturing the cruciform interior of that little parish church, I can still see him in my mind’s eye, sitting with his wife and children off to the left, several pews back, just another Catholic family.

What’s important to this story, and what I remember most about the policeman, isn’t his appearance, or where he sat at Mass, or even the mortifying scandal that engulfed him after the local paper printed bawdy details of the malfeasance he was accused of committing with a local woman while on duty. It must have been utterly horrible for him and his family.

The scandal swirled for a while, as scandals do, especially when they involve someone who, by all appearances, is exemplary and upright. No doubt it was an excruciating crisis for him and his family to endure. But it was what he did during and after the scandal that made such an impression on me.

As I recall, the policeman lost his job. I think he also lost his marriage, many friends, and his standing in the community. Word gets around quickly. He may even have come close to losing his faith, but I don’t think he did. That’s because he never stopped going to Mass. He refused to retreat into hiding under the strain of public scrutiny and opprobrium.

Sunday after Sunday, at the height of the scandal and beyond, I saw him at Mass, sitting alone in the same pew he had previously occupied with his wife and children. Sometimes he sat alone; sometimes his teenage daughter sat beside him. She, perhaps the only one in that hurting family, never gave up on her dad.

When I think of him, I can’t help but think of her too, and how brave she must have been to stand by her father in the midst of that storm. She couldn’t have been more than eighteen, but her quiet witness was, in its own way, as poignant and powerful as her father’s.

This beleaguered man, in the midst of that crushing ordeal, refused to let go of his lifeline to God. The proof was his dogged persistence in attending Sunday Mass, where he surely felt the eyes upon him, even if he couldn’t quite hear the whispered gossip and quiet judgments:

“Yes, that’s him over there.”

“Can you believe it?”

“Well, I never.”

“And he was a policeman!”

Even the profound embarrassment couldn’t prevent him from showing up, week after week. I’m certain the Lord sustained him when everything else in his life had collapsed.

I sometimes wonder what ever became of him. Did he reunite with his wife? Was he able to find another job in law enforcement? Did he persevere in his Catholic faith and remain close to God?

The policeman’s public downfall, even as I witnessed it from a distance, taught me important lessons about clinging to the Lord, especially when sin, failure, and shame press in from every direction. It reminded me that God’s grace is more powerful than my sin, and that no failure is beyond His mercy for the repentant sinner. Ever since then, I’ve found myself seeking His mercy and forgiveness more fervently whenever I fall through pride or weakness.

The words of Psalm 51 ring true in my heart whenever I pause to reflect on this lesson about sin, perseverance, and restoration. The Psalmist’s cry is one every fallen soul recognizes:

“Have mercy on me, O God, according to thy steadfast love; according to thy abundant mercy blot out my transgressions.”

This heart-felt prayer for forgiveness and restoration lays bare what that policeman, and every one of us, most deeply needs:

“Create in me a clean heart, O God, and put a new and right spirit within me.”

I never heard what happened to him, but I’ve never forgotten him.

Every so often, the memory of his painful public humiliation comes to mind, and I pray for him and thank God for the difficult, unexpected lesson it taught me. Every man and woman who has stumbled badly in life can, and should, still cling to God and the Church when everything else in life has begun to collapse. Most especially then.

The policeman in the pew failed in one profound obligation, true, yet he remained faithful in another. He refused to let go of God, trusting, I have no doubt, that the Lord will never turn away those who cling to Him in faith and repentance.

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Copyright © 2026 Patrick Madrid. All rights reserved. All text, images, and other original content are the property of the author. Adapted and expanded from my 2009 St. Anthony Messenger article “The Policeman.”

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