Iraqis shoo the vultures.

My partner called me Saturday and said, "Let's get in to the station early Sunday and watch the returns." I was a little surprised, as he's just a typical police officer, not a political nut like me. Then I thought about it and realized that many of my fellow cops were talking about the upcoming election in Iraq. Those of us who stand on the line between good and evil hate bullies, and we know what happens when liberty, and decency, and choices disappear from life.

Many of us also have a personal stake. Plenty of our coworkers have been called up as reserves. They disappear for a year, then come back a little older and grayer--and more jaded about the major media. They've seen the things in Iraq that the big networks refuse to show: the graves, the crippled people and long-broken society, the progress, the hope in the eyes of Iraqis.

So I sat at my desk that morning watching FOX. I saw Iraqis walking miles to vote, to ink their fingers, possibly marking themselves for murder. I saw them dancing, crying, singing, and praying. I had to wipe my own eyes.