Icoasted on my bike, following the sidewalk around Pioneer Park. The smallish park was notorious for being a hangout of the city’s homeless population.Ahead, I spotted a familiar face ambling my way. Robert Jones was a black male in his early forties, a short, thickset guy with an accent that I couldn’t quite place, but I suspected Louisiana. I’d found him passed out drunk too many times to count.

Robert noticed me, grinned, and raised a hand in greeting. “What up, Officer Eric?” I slowed to a stop and said, “Robert, what? Where’s Bruce? You’re always with Bruce.” “Oh, he’s got some change. Off buying himself a snack. He’ll be around soon.” His mouth stretched in a toothy grin. “We can’t be the Braveheart Guys without Bruce.” “Robert the Bruce,” I said, smiling. “You patrolling the park?” Robert said. I hardly heard the question. There was something peculiar about Robert. He almost looked as if… “What’s the matter?” Robert said. “Officer Eric?”

My eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Holy cow, Robert, you’re stone cold sober.” Robert blinked, then wheezed with laughter. “I guess I am.” “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you not drunk. You’re…You’re coherent. We’re having a normal conversation. What’s the occasion, Robert?” “I know, man, I know. Things have been rough the last few years. I haven’t made the best decisions.” “You know,” I said, “I’ve always wondered where you’re originally from.You have an accent, but it’s always been slurred with booze.” Robert puffed up with pride. “Louisiana, sir.” I nodded, inwardly pleased that I’d guessed correctly. “So different from Utah,” Robert said. “Dry here; wet there.”

I opened my mouth to ask more about his home state, but a sudden urgency to know why he’d come to Utah struck me. I paused, confused. It was a natural enough question to ask, but why this sense of need surrounding the question?“Robert,” I said, interrupting his explanation of how Louisiana cuisine was superior to that of Utah, “what brought you all the way here from Louisiana?”Robert blinked. The question came to my mind and I knew I had to ask it the way I did.

His eyes lost their focus. His smile turned peaceful. “Officer Eric, God told me to come here. I’m still not sure why, but He did. I swear on my life.”

An idea popped into my head. A free movie about God played daily at the nearby Legacy Theater, one of the buildings belonging to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. I couldn’t explain why, but I knew Robert had to see it. I said, “Do you mind if I share a little about what I believe?”

“No, Officer Eric, please do.” I spent a while explaining my faith, then told him about the movie. I said, “It plays every hour and a half. Would you like to see it?” Robert chuckled. “I got nothing going on. Sure, I would.”

I took out my phone and looked up the theater. The next start time was in about fifteen minutes and was the last showing of the day. It would take about twenty minutes to walk there. No good. I had to get Robert there faster. I glanced at his gut and thought, No way he can run there. Gotta drive. My police car was parked about a block away at the nearby substation. I looked at Robert, then toward my car across the street. “Uh, meet me at that corner.” I pointed. “Be there in two minutes.” I pushed forward and pedaled hard. I reached the substation, secured my bike, jumped in my car, and rushed to the appointed corner. Robert stood there, shaking his head and grinning like this was all a splendid way to pass his evening.

I rolled down the window. “Get in back.” Robert obeyed. As I pulled into traffic and headed up the street, a thought jolted me: I didn’t search him before he got in my car. What if he had a weapon? No, Robert is a good enough guy. A drunken nuisance, not violent. But what if he had something illegal on him. No, no, no, just get him to the movie. There’s a reason for this. I know it. Stop stressing. But what if…The entire way there, I argued back and forth with myself.

A few minutes later, I pulled up to South Temple and Main Street. I parked, glanced over my shoulder, and said, “I’ll be back after the movie to pick you up right here.”  Robert nodded and grinned. “Alright, Officer Eric, I’ll see you after.” I watched him go inside. Was I crazy for doing this? Could I get in trouble with my sergeant if he found out? Despite my misgivings, I knew in my heart that this was what Robert had traveled across the country for. The thought humbled me. I was the one lucky enough to be put in Robert’s path.

I ate dinner and patrolled and fortunately, there were no calls or problems that prevented me from being there when Robert sauntered out, the setting sun splashing the city in gold, orange, and pink. Robert got in back, buckled up, and I turned to ask what he thought of the movie, but he spoke first. “Oh, Officer Eric. I loved it. I know that story is true. I could feel God all around me.”

I couldn’t speak, just smiled faintly, feeling content. I started to drive. Halfway to the shelter, Robert said, “I believe God wants me to go back to my momma’s house. I think I’m done with Utah.” “Here,” I said after we pulled up to the shelter, and handed Robert my card with my cell phone number on the back. “In case you need it.” Robert started to get out, but paused. “God bless you, Officer Eric.”I nodded, not entirely sure how I should feel about this bizarre day. Robert closed the door, waved, and went inside. “Good luck, Robert,” I murmured.

Months later, I received an out-of-state call. I hesitated to answer, as such calls were usually some kind of telemarketing pitch, but something inside told me to respond. “Hello?” I said. “Officer Eric, how you doing?” I barked a surprised laugh. “Robert. Hey, I’m great. Where have you been? I haven’t seen you downtown in forever.” He chuckled. “I told you, I had to go back to my momma’s house.” I grinned. Robert sounded great. His voice held real energy and a nuance of purpose. “That’s great,” I said. “You sound good.” “Better than good,” Robert said. “Guess what?” I shrugged. “I give up. What?” “I found your missionaries out here. They came to my momma’s house. I’m getting baptized!”

Chills tingled my skin. My mouth fell open. I searched for words, but could only say, “That’s…that’s amazing.” “Yep,” he said. “It’s great. I’m great. Anyway, I was just calling to say thank you. For what you did for me. God is good!”

I shook my head, thinking how I’d almost chickened out of taking him to that movie, how I’d doubted that inner voice when it told me to ask him a specific question –a question that opened the door to this miracle. After this phone call, I promised to never second guess myself again.

Robert called about once a month. I looked forward to those calls. They always boosted my spirits and left me with a sense of encouragement. He married a woman he couldn’t praise enough. He became a chef in Pennsylvania. Oh, and Momma started going to church, too. The life of a homeless drunk transformed. And all it took was one little, inspired question in my police uniform.