A Baby in a Basket

Exodus 2:1-6 tells the story of Moses and how he as an infant he was put in a basket and floated down the Nile River. The daughter of Pharaoh found him, adopted him as a son and started a chain of events that brought Israel to the Promised Land. We can unknowingly be God’s instruments and be called as servants with results that we will never know. The challenge is to be willing to listen and respond to God’s calling when the opportunity presents itself.

For two years I was part of a street crimes enforcement unit. Our mission was to go out in t-shirts and jeans every day to find crimes in progress and arrest people committing them. It was one of the best jobs of my career. I spent most of the time was chasing drug dealers and users. One of the busiest areas for drug dealing was right in downtown Santa Barbara. On one block in particular were the Faulding Hotel and the Adobe Motel.

The Faulding was a five story hotel that might be described as a ½ star at best. The Adobe a two story property and was not much better.

The Faulding Hotel was not a place any officer felt comfortable in even during daylight hours. I always had a partner along as back up any time I ventured up the stairs looking for criminal activity. The good people who lived here were on general relief or some other form of government assistance. There were also drug dealers and users that wanted a place to sleep with no questions asked by disengaged desk clerks. These were the people we wanted out of the hotel.

Directly across the street from the Faulding was the Adobe Motel. Motel rooms were rented to prostitutes or dope dealer’s for as long as they had a supply of drugs to sell. I made a habit of stopping in to the front office at least once a week to take a look at the guest register. I was always sure to find a “registered guest” subject to search and seizure that pretty much guaranteed an arrest. The trick was to get through the motel room door and get in before drugs got flushed down the toilet.

On one particular day, I was with two other officers and we had just entered the ground floor of the Faulding Hotel. We walked through the musty lobby, passed the front desk and headed toward a carpeted stairs that led to a sitting room filled with mismatched couches. I was in the lead and saw a woman holding a baby in her arms walking toward me from the sitting room. I recognized her as a woman that had used drugs in the past and I had arrested for possession and prostitution many times. I used the word “had” because she was currently clean. Her reason to stop was in her arms. Her baby gave her the hope and motivation to stop using drugs but not the financial means to escape the hotel.

As she closed the gap between us, I could see a look of concern on her face. My two partners drew up close as she stopped in front of me and asked if I remembered her.

“Sure.” I said waiting for what she wanted to tell me.

“Last night, I heard that Kristy was shooting up in the third floor bathroom and she left her baby on the floor in urine soaked clothes after she was done. I picked up the baby and brought her to my room and put her in some of my son’s clothes.”

“Is she still in your room?”

“No, Kristy’s boyfriend got her this morning and took her over to room 108 at the Adobe across the street.”

“Where’s Kristy?” I asked.

“I haven’t seen her since last night.”

This mother didn’t care that she was talking to a cop in the middle of what was nothing less than a lion’s den filled with parolees, dope dealers and thieves. And yet, even among people that many would classify as criminals, there are times when it is acceptable to tell. This was one.

My first daughter was 8 months old at the time and I easily identified with the fears of the woman standing in front of me. It was clear to me that my partners and I needed to find this child and take action. I turned to my fellow officers to figure out our next step and to my surprise they had walked away leaving me standing alone with this reformed drug user that was seeking our help.

I had no idea where my “partners” disappeared to and I really did not care. I had a child to find and rescue. I could care less what I had to do to make sure a helpless little baby girl found refuge. I turned and walked out of the lobby and headed across the street toward the Adobe Motel. Room 108 was at the end of the “L” shaped motel on the ground floor. I walked through the parking lot in a direct path to the front door of the room. The door was closed and standing just outside was a man that easily weighed 300 pounds and would be a formidable foe if things went sideways. I was in street clothes and only had my weapon and a pair of handcuffs with no one to back me up.

There are times in our journey of faith that God motivates us to action with righteous anger. The junkie mother that preferred getting loaded over caring for her child, the desperate mother asking me to help a baby at risk, thoughts of my 8-month-old daughter and partners that conveniently disappeared because a felony arrest was unlikely to result if we found the child fueled my resolve to find this little baby.

I approached the door to the motel room with the large man in view. He was standing to the right of the door in front of the window that had the drapes drawn closed to prevent me from seeing inside. The large man either recognized me or saw my badge and gun on my belt but it was clear that even without a uniform on he knew what I was.

“Where is the baby?” I demanded.

“In the room, asleep.” The large man replied indignant.

“I am going inside to check on her.”

“Do you have a warrant?” He demanded moving in front of the motel room door.

I would do to him in a less than professional manner if he did not move. He made the decision to do the right thing and stepped aside.

I opened the door and stepped into what amounted to a 10 by 16 room with a bathroom to the rear. There was a double bed against one wall and the baby was placed in the middle, sleeping soundly. She looked healthy and dry. Between the bed and the bathroom wall were a pile of large plastic bags that were filled with clothes and other junk. I saw nothing in the way of diapers, formula, baby clothes or anything else necessary to care for an infant child of no more than 8 months.

“Where are the baby’s clothes?” I asked surveying the less than clean condition of the room.

“In those bags somewhere.” Came the response from the large man. It was clear he had no idea where anything was.

“What if the baby needs a diaper change?” I never thought as a cop I would be giving an oral parenting exam to anybody.

“I don’t change diapers.” Came the reply and that was all I needed to make my decision.

“The baby is mine.” I said and moved toward the sleeping baby carefully picking her up as if she was my own daughter.

As I picked up the child and turned to leave the room the large man insisted that he had women friends he could call on to help him with feeding and diaper changes. I don’t even think I gave the guy another look but brushed past him out the front door. Now I found myself standing in the middle of a crappy motel parking lot in street clothes with a baby cradled in my arms and a 9mm handgun and badge strapped to my side. The good news was that my partners made their way over to the motel and met me as I walked across the parking lot.

“Get the car.” I directed one of the guys I was working with. We returned to the police department. I turned the baby over to a child protective services worker. I never saw that little baby again.

Three months later I was back walking in front of the Faulding Hotel and I spotted Kristy walking toward me. It was clear that she was still using and was working as a prostitute for income. We had a short conversation and I wound up giving her a ticket for being in possession of marijuana. After this encounter, I made a beeline for the station. I immediately called the child protective services office and found out who this woman’s caseworker was. As it turned out, the caseworker told me that she was glad I called to tell her about my contact with Kristy because the caseworker was planning to give the child back to her at the end of the week!

After that, I made it a point to notify Kristy’s caseworker any time I arrested Kristy or saw her loitering around the area of the Faulding. The child was given up for adoption and a few years later I found Kristy once again in front of the Faulding. This time, she was clean. She told me about the family her daughter was with and that she got to see her daughter on occasion. The little girl I rescued from a drug using mother is now 19. I don’t know how things worked out for her or where she is. I do know that God put me in the lobby of the Faulding Hotel to take the “basket floating down the Nile” out of the water.