National View / Trampling the thin blue line: Watching police officers get assaulted has become a trash-talking bloodsport

But one time I went too far and he drove me to our local police precinct, where Max the cop was waiting. Everyone in our 1960s neighborhood knew Max. He was a jovial ex-boxer with a paunch and nasal voice, intimidating as Barney Fife. And he belonged to our synagogue. I marveled that the same guy who waddled around with a holstered revolver and wooden club would also recite Torah and show up at Friday night services in a suit.

On this…

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