by Bob Herbert

About the author: Bob Herbert is a syndicated columnist for the New York Times and a former NBC News reporter.

The first thought of Police Officer Michael Robbins in the swirling, eerily quiet aftermath of the ambush was that he was going to die. He and his partner, Talmitch Jackson, were in their patrol car, the headlights off, in a dark alley on Chicago’s South Side, and both had just been riddled with bullets. They were moaning and they were soaked in blood.

As Officer Robbins sank toward unconsciousness and what he believed was death, he thought of his mother, who had died several years before. He had a vague sense that he could see her, that perhaps in his extreme distress she was there, encouraging him, somehow conveying to...