Imagine … A World Without Police

Written by Skip Coryell on June 10, 2020

Imagine there’s no heaven
It’s easy if you try
No hell below us
Above us only sky
Imagine all the people living for today

– John Lennon

Wouldn’t it be great if society was peace-loving, kind, generous, always positive, and thinking about the best interest of its fellow man? What if there was unity; oneness of heart and mind; if no one disagreed; if we all shared our material things? What if the whole world lived in peace and harmony? Can you just imagine a world like that? I’m sorry, but I can’t. At least not this side of heaven. Okay, yeah, when Jesus comes back for us, yes, then I can imagine it; because I think the God of the universe could pull that one off. But mere mortals? I think not.

Now, don’t get me wrong, I’d love to live in a world like John Lennon wrote about … a true utopia on earth, but here’s the problem: It’s highly likely that John was on drugs when he wrote that song … as in … not in his right mind. After all, that’s what drugs do; they alter your state of mind from reality into fantasy, and that’s the big draw, right? Life sucks, so let’s take a break from it, drop some acid; shoot up some heroin, pop some pills and then … just drift away without a care in the world.

I’ve had a rough life; two divorces, financial problems, working at a job I hate, so I can understand the escapist temptation, but … here’s the problem: the fantasy doesn’t last. The drugs wear off, and you have to come down to the real earth again, and guess what?  You’re still late on your rent, because you spent the money on drugs; you lost your job because you were passed out on the floor beside the toilet.

Of course, John Lennon didn’t have to worry about that because he was rich, and rock legends don’t get fired. Right now, I see many people trying to defund the police, and I wonder if, they too, are on drugs. Our cities are on fire; buildings being smashed, looters having free reign, and the mental giants of our time, politicians, businessmen, and academians alike want to solve the problem by saying:  “Hey, we’ll just disband all the police officers. Imagine a world without police. It’s easy if you try.”

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So, just for the sake of being open-minded; let’s see what a world without the police would look like. Imagine this:

Charlotte was 14 years old, and her parents went out to a nice restaurant on a romantic date. It was no big deal; they’d done it many times before, and nothing bad had happened. Charlotte was a cheerleader, very popular at school, and also excelled academically. She had a bright and happy future. She was beautiful, with blonde hair and blue eyes, a slender figure, and the prettiest face you’d ever seen.

As soon as her parents left, she went to her room to study. She worked for a while, then texted her friends a bit. After an hour she went to the kitchen to make a sandwich. She liked tomato, cucumber, and mayonnaise so she whipped one up and was just pouring a glass of orange juice when …

Jocko was a lifetime criminal. He’d committed hundreds of crimes, many violent, and had been in prison twice already. He was 28 years old. Jocko had been watching this house for several weeks, and when the parents had left, he’d assumed the house was empty. So, he walked around the back and knocked on the door. There was no answer, so he smashed the glass and reached in to unlock the door. No alarm sounded, so he walked in and began to explore.

Charlotte heard the glass break, so she ran back to her room and locked the door. The police station was only a mile away, so she picked up her cell phone and dialed nine-one-one. It seemed to take forever for someone to answer. Finally, she heard a voice. “I’m sorry, due to limited manpower and budget cuts, response to your call will be delayed. We regret any inconvenience this may cause you. Please leave a message at the beep.”

After the beep, Charlotte left a detailed message explaining the situation and gave her name and address. Then she hung up the phone and hid in her closet.

Jocko heard a young woman down the hall talking, so he took out his long-bladed knife and crept closer to the door. The voice suddenly stopped, so he carefully and quietly pushed the door open slowly. There was no one in the room. He peeked under the bed. No one. Then he tried the adjacent bathroom, but not a soul was to be found. Then he heard a sound coming from the closet. He moved slowly forward, with the knife at the ready. When he opened the door, the light trickled in and he saw a beautiful, young, 14-year-old girl, cowering in the corner. And that’s when Jocko knew … he’d hit the jackpot.

Charlotte put up a fight, but Jocko was bigger and stronger. He punched her several times in the head until she lay unconscious on the carpet. He pulled out a roll of duct tape, and tied her hands and feet together. Then he taped over her mouth and picked her up and carried her carefully back to his van.

Outside, Lucille, the 75-year-old neighbor peeked through the curtains and saw the stranger carrying away Charlotte. Lucille was good woman, so she picked up the phone and dialed nine-one-one. It rang several times and then a woman said, “I’m sorry, due to limited manpower and budget cuts, response to your call will be delayed. We regret any inconvenience this may cause you. Please leave a message at the beep.”

Lucille left a brief message and returned to the window. She took a picture of the van with her cell phone, meaning to give it to the responding officers. They never came.

Charlotte became conscious in the van several miles from her house. She tried to scream, but the duct tape wouldn’t let her. She kicked the side of the van, but to no avail. Jocko laughed out loud. He wasn’t worried. Instead, he just thought about all the fun he was going to have with Charlotte.

Charlotte’s parents came home a few hours later and walked into her room to tell her good night. They found evidence of a scuffle, and blood on the white carpet. Her mother broke down in tears, while her father pulled out his cell phone and dialed nine-one-one. He waited for what seemed like an enormous amount of time before a woman spoke, “I’m sorry, due to limited manpower and budget cuts, response to your call will be delayed. We regret any inconvenience this may cause you. Please leave a message at the beep.”

Charlotte’s father left a message, then drove to the police station. The doors were locked. He went back home and cried with his wife.

Jocko played with Charlotte for several hours. He beat her, then raped her. Then talked to her for a while and raped her again. When morning finally came, and he’d grown tired of the sport, he unceremoniously slit Charlotte’s beautiful throat and tossed her in the weeds at the side of the dirt road. He didn’t care if anyone found her, because his was a life of impunity, of wanton pleasure and debased, carnality. He knew that no one would track him down. He went home and got a good day’s sleep, then he woke up at sunset … and then he did it all over again.

Imagine a world without police. Imagine a world without religion, with no one to tell you what is right or wrong. Without God, we all decide for ourselves.

Three days later, as Charlotte’s body was bloated and rotting, and maggots feasted on her decomposing flesh, a social worker from the state visited her parent’s home. And she said, “Oh, I’m sorry for the delay, we hope it wasn’t too much of an inconvenience, but, we are short-staffed right now. I’m sure you understand.”

Charlotte’s parents were progressive and open-minded, but they didn’t understand. They’d marched with Black Lives Matter, and they’d kneeled dutifully in compliance. At the time, they’d felt good about it, superior, and even proud. They were doing their part to make the world a better place. They’d always believed that people should just get along; that the world really could be a heaven on earth.

Imagine a world without consequences, a world without heaven or hell. Without police, there is no consequence in this world, and, without hell, there is no punishment after death.

Three days after that, Charlotte’s body was found by a farmer. The next day they held a memorial service in her honor. They had marched for change, but … the change they got was … unexpected.

In reality, the whole John Lennon utopian world is a free-for-all, where only the strong endure. I understand that improvements can be made; improvements can always be made. But let’s not make policy based on a drug-infested rock star’s utopian lyrics. After all, your daughter’s life may depend on it.

Skip Coryell lives with his wife and children in Michigan. Skip Coryell is the author of nine books including  Blood in the Streets: Concealed Carry and the OK Corral; RKBA: Defending the Right to Keep and Bear Arms; The God Virus, and We Hold These Truths. He is the founder of The Second Amendment March and the President of White Feather Press. He is an avid hunter and sportsman, a Marine Corps veteran, and co-host of the syndicated radio show Frontlines of Freedom. Skip also hosts the weekly podcast The Home Defense Show, which can be heard 24/7 at www.americaswebradio.com/home-defense. For more details on Skip Coryell, or to contact him personally, go to his website at skipcoryell.com