A CISO, a Writer, and a Grieving Police Wife: Trying to Make Sense of It All

I’ve always turned to writing to help process the things that sit heavy on my heart, whether it  be sadness, grief, or rage. Today is one of those days.

Wednesday, September 17, 2025, just minutes from our home in Pennsylvania, five police officers were shot while serving a warrant meant to protect a woman from her violent ex-boyfriend. Three of those officers were killed. Two are still fighting for their lives.

I found out through a dear friend and fellow police wife, Jenn, when she sent me a text, “Jess, we are on lockdown here. Scott (her husband, a police lieutenant, and my husband’s former partner) said multiple cops have been shot. Some are already dead.”

I immediately turned to the news and there it was. A scene in a cornfield, not unlike the one off our driveway. Five officers. Ambushed. One person. One warrant. So much devastation.

And my husband… my husband was out serving a warrant at that exact moment. Working nights this week. With only 45 days left before his retirement.

I’ve never taken his safety for granted. Every shift he’s worked over these decades, I’ve said the same words: “Have a good night. Be safe. I love you.”

Just in case.

I remember after Sandy Hook; I changed how I said goodbye to my kids before school from “Do you have your lunchbox?” to “Do you have your lunchbox? I LOVE YOU!”

Because violence never feels far away.

This week alone, we’ve seen heartbreak in Colorado, chaos in political spaces, and senseless deaths that never make headlines. It feels relentless. And with all that noise, the one truth that compelled me to write this morning:

We cannot, and should not, try to govern how someone else grieves.

Empathy Is Not Agreement

It’s easy to feel judged for your sorrow, especially when it doesn’t align with someone else’s expectations.

If someone were to say to me:

• “Why are you upset? Those cops knew what they signed up for.” OR

• “You didn’t even know them.”

I can’t argue with these facts, but those words cut like a knife.

Do I need to justify why I feel shattered after watching officers die in a field that looks like the one outside my window, just 30 minutes from our house? Do grieving families need to explain why they are crying? Do any of us have to earn the right to mourn?

Empathy does not require agreement. It simply asks us to acknowledge someone else’s pain. And frankly, that’s what’s missing in the world right now.

Let Grief Be Grief

You may not have known the person. You may not agree with their choices, politics, profession, or platform. But the most powerful act of human decency is this: Let people grieve.

And if you are the one grieving, like I and countless other police families are this week, please remember this: You don’t owe anyone an explanation.

You deserve space. You deserve compassion. You deserve to be held, even by strangers, in a moment of support instead of judgment.

Can we do this for each other? Can we set aside assumptions, politics, and sides, even briefly, to just show up for someone else?

A Note on Leadership and Humanity

I’ll close with this thought because this is, after all, a professional network:

The most transformative leaders I’ve worked with weren’t trying to walk in everyone’s shoes. They were aware that it is not possible, and they simply acknowledged that every person’s journey was different.

And in that recognition, they became safe places.

They didn’t need to fix everything. They just showed up with empathy, grace, and without judgment.

That’s who I want to be.

And that’s who I hope we can all strive to be, even on the hardest days.

Thank you for holding space. Thank you for letting me write through this. Thank you for being good humans.

Stay safe out there.

Jessica Nemmers CISO | Writer | Police Wife