Feathers were ruffled recently in Farmington when a Dunkin Donuts employee gained media notoriety after shouting to a line of waiting customers, one of whom was a West Hartford police officer, “We don’t serve cops here.”

Such poor judgment illustrates once again that the average citizen neither appreciates nor understands police officers.

Put yourself in a police uniform. You’re in a dimly lit place. Your equipment belt is heavy, laden with tools of the trade: baton, mace, Taser, handgun, extra ammunition clips, handcuffs, flashlight, radio. It’s 3 a.m. and there’s an angry man in your face. You’re told he hit his wife, he thinks it’s none of your business. You were tired ten minutes ago but not anymore.

He’s bigger than you, irrational and has no respect for the uniform. He’s coming at you but not breaking the law yet. As you try to calm him, your five senses are constantly analyzing him and his surroundings. How strong is he? Anger can increase one’s physical strength. How agile? Anything in his pockets? What’s within his reach? Is he alone? Wives will defend even abusive husbands.

Your response to violence is governed by words on paper: regulation, policy, law. Words written by calm people in business suits who have never met the kind of violent people you meet every day.

No weapon is visible but he sees that you’re carrying plenty on your belt. He knows you have a lot to consider before you can use any of them. He knows you’re handcuffed with red tape.

He’s made full contact. You feel something. Were you stabbed? Or just poked? Don’t look down. You have so much adrenaline flowing you wouldn’t feel a wound if you had one. Is there something in his fist? Knife? Brass knuckles?

You’re fighting for control of his hands but watching his eyes, arms, legs, the immediate area within his control. He’s flailing his arms around, sometimes reaching behind his back.

You have mere seconds to do something to save yourself from harm. Can’t let this maniac get your weapon. He’ll kill you. Something flashes in the corner of your eye in the dark. You can’t afford to be incapacitated. Incapacitation means death.

He knocked the mace out of your hand and he means to take your weapon. You try hard not to weaken your position by thinking about your kids and how this night will end.

As you struggle, your overloaded senses are contemplating regulations, policies and statutes governing the level of your response in a fast and furious fight! What’s a reasonable response! What’s he holding? If it can cause serious physical harm, you have every right to shoot!

If you’re shot or stabbed, you know you’ll have three seconds to stop him before your body freezes in shock. Incapacitation means death! Get control! He grabs your arm while you try to grab the hand holding the object! He’s swinging something! Knife? Gun? Screwdriver? Damn this darkness! It’s you or him! Shoot or don’t shoot?

What would you, Joe Citizen, do? This scenario could easily run its course in 30 seconds and if you hesitated for a split second, you lost the right to judge.

Connecticut statue authorizes police officers to use deadly force only when they “reasonably believe” it is necessary to “defend themselves or a third person from the use or imminent use of deadly physical force.”

Reasonable belief and perceived deadly physical force are legally fluid concepts that get dissected in quiet courtrooms every day by people who have never feared for their lives.

A police officer’s decisions are a tangled web of law, regulations, policies, training, department politics and survival instinct. It’s never black and white. It’s complicated.

All things considered, America’s police do a remarkable job. Society throws far more at them than mere insults in a donut shop.

John Steward graduated from the Connecticut Police Academy in 1984 and served as police sergeant for the Connecticut Bureau of Aviation before being promoted to fire captain. He can be reached at tossinglines@gmail.com