Chief Dawn Layman, Breckenridge (CO) Police Department 

and retired chief, Lenexa (KS) Police Department 

For as long as I can remember, Christmas Eve meant setting an alarm around 2:00 a.m. to head into the police department to make breakfast—usually sausage and egg casseroles and a variety of fruit—for the midnight shift. I started the tradition early in my career and carried it with me as I moved through the ranks, then continued it as my time as chief.   

At first, it felt like a simple way to say thank you to the police officers, dispatchers, and public service officers who were missing time with their families so others could be safe. Over the years, there were times breakfast was delayed or interrupted by call volume, and plates were left while officers were pulled back out into the night. But eventually, we’d gather—sometimes tired, sometimes quiet—and share a few moments together before the next call or the end of the shift. 

After my recent retirement from the Lenexa Police Department, I was reminded by several officers how much those early-morning Christmas breakfasts had meant to them. One message, in particular, stayed with me: An officer shared they had been dealing with a difficult call that Christmas Eve, and later that same night I showed up and made breakfast for everyone. They said that simple act of care meant the world to them. Hearing that made me realize something I hadn’t fully appreciated at the time—while the tradition may have been for them, as the years went on it probably meant even more to me. Those quiet hours, the camaraderie, and the chance to show up in a small but meaningful way became a reminder of why we do this work. I was always happy to do it, and I’ll always be grateful for what those mornings gave me in return. 

Sheriff Grady Judd, Polk County (FL) Sheriff’s Office 

Christmas in law enforcement is often framed around tragedy and sacrifice, but for me it has also been the most rewarding time to serve. Rather than focusing on the difficult moments we’ve all experienced during the holidays, I prefer to remember all the good we’ve been able to do. Long ago, we started a tradition of filling the patrol vehicles of deputies working on Christmas with presents to hand out in the community. Watching deputies deliver those gifts—often during calls they were responding to—is a powerful reminder that even we in uniform can still help create a little Christmas magic. It keeps us grounded in the real reason for the season. 

One of the most meaningful experiences has been delivering Christmas presents to the children of mothers incarcerated in our jail. We’re intentional about every detail, from selecting the gifts to wrapping them and delivering them, because the most important part is that each present is clearly labeled “from Mom.” For those innocent children to still feel the love of their mother on Christmas provides a sense of dignity and hope that can’t be measured. When an inmate gets out of jail and says to me, “I will never forget the generosity of the Polk County Sheriff’s Office for helping my child,” that is the true meaning of Christmas. Christmas is a special day, and partnerships we have cultivated with the community allow the spirit of Christmas to be felt in all of the hearts and souls of the almost one million people who reside in Polk County. 

Chief Nishan Duraiappah, Peel Regional Police (Ontario, Canada) 

Christmas in policing has always felt a little different. 

Almost 30 years ago, when I was working patrol, I remember a Christmas Eve shift that reminded me why this work matters beyond the badge. It was late, snow in Canada was at its best, and calls were steady but manageable. One call took us to a small apartment building after neighbours reported [hearing] shouting. 

When we arrived, it quickly became clear there was no violence. Instead, we met a couple who were simply overwhelmed. Job loss, bills piling up, and the pressure of the season had caught up with them. Their raised voices were less about anger and more about uncertainty. 

We resolved the call, but before leaving, my partner asked whether they had food for the next day. They didn’t. 

As I’m sure many behind a uniform have done also, we did something simple. We stopped at a grocery store and picked up a few essentials—enough for a modest Christmas meal. When we dropped it off, there were no big words or speeches, just quiet appreciation. 

After leaving, my partner commented that moments like that weren’t covered much in training. He was right. But they’re a part of policing all the same. 

Now, years later, I think about that shift from time to time—especially at this time of year. Policing is of course about safety and accountability, but it’s also about understanding the people behind the calls we answer. 

To those working this holiday season, thank you for your professionalism and commitment. And to our community, I wish you a safe, peaceful, and warm Christmas. 

Melissa Hyatt, former Baltimore County (MD) police chief and retired Baltimore Police Department colonel 

My father served his career in the Baltimore Police Department, and growing up I remember him working every Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. He always volunteered to work so the officers with young children wouldn't miss the holiday and building memories with their families. I adopted his example and also volunteered to work each of those holidays, and I have many fond memories.  

The most impactful was my first Christmas as a patrol officer on the job. I remember responding to work early to relieve the prior shift and not expecting anything particularly special or notable for the day. At one point, our shift commander started calling units back to the station. When I arrived, there was a long table set up in the station house garage. The entire garage was decorated for Christmas, and the table was festive and piled high with food that had been donated from restaurants and community members. I remember sitting down, looking around, and feeling gratitude to be in my dream job and spending this special time with my work family. Although I worked many other Christmases, none was as impactful as that very first one. 

Chief Daniel Pistor, Sunnyvale (CA) Department of Public Safety 

The Sunnyvale Department of Public Safety is a fully integrated public safety agency that provides police, fire, and EMS services to our community under one department. Throughout my career, I have spent many Christmas nights working the graveyard shift assigned to uniformed patrol assignments.  

One of our department’s most meaningful traditions is that the officers assigned to our fire stations prepare and host Christmas dinner for the uniformed patrol officers working that night. I have many warm memories of gathering around a large kitchen table at a fire station, sharing a meal with my firefighter partners laughing and telling stories. 

Although the dinners are often interrupted by fire or police dispatches, this tradition always brings a sense of camaraderie, connection, and warmth to the public safety officers working on Christmas night away from their families. This tradition has made working on Christmas just a little more enjoyable. 

Chief Bob Day, Portland (OR) Police Bureau 

Three stories come to mind. First, I was working Christmas Eve and promised my bride that I would be home early enough Christmas morning to put together a small table and chairs we’d bought for our toddler-aged daughter. I failed to anticipate how tired I would be and was barely able to complete a simple IKEA set prior to the arrival of Santa. It was an early lesson in my career that I am not Superman and this job will challenge even our best intentions. 

Second, after several years of working nights, weekends, and holidays, I was assigned a new role on the day shift with weekends off. As we went to bed on Christmas Eve, I said to my wife that for the first time in almost 10 years, I am not working this particular holiday. An hour after my head hit the pillow, I was paged out on an officer-involved shooting and gone most of the night. The officers and detectives were fine, but I reminded them after the fact that robbery stakeouts on Christmas Eve could be “optional” in the future. 

Third, during my first six years on the job, I was single with no kids, so any time Christmas fell on my day off I would switch with an officer who had a family to allow them to be home. As I advanced in my career, I worked several Christmases, some by choice and others not, but I found it to be a very meaningful way to support our officers. I am not planning on being out there this year, as our daughter and son-in-law are flying in on Christmas Day. We recently learned we will be grandparents for the first time in 2026, so this year’s celebration is even more exciting as we look to the next Christmas with our grandson. But the men and women of PPB will not be far from my thoughts and prayers. 

Commander Amy Daum, Montgomery County (MD) Police Department 

Holidays can always be a mixed bag—the season itself full of joy, but for many in our communities struggling with depression, intimate partner violence, or abuse, the holiday season is one of the hardest of all. 

This year, many in our community are struggling with job and food insecurity. My district partnered with Montgomery County Regional Services, the Greater Bethesda Chamber of Commerce, Bethesda Urban Partnership, and Imagination Stage. Together, we collected more than 2,000 pounds of people and pet food for Nourishing Bethesda and Montgomery County Partners for Animal Well-Being (MCPAW). 

We often meet people on their hardest days, and through events like these, we can share joy in the holiday season while reminding ourselves of the good in the community. 

Chief Larry Gonzalez, Riverside (CA) Police Department 

Late Christmas Eve 2022, a single mother and her two sons returned home to find their apartment had been burglarized, with the presents under their Christmas tree stolen. Patrol officers responded to investigate the crime and take a report, but they didn’t stop there. Wanting to make sure this family’s Christmas wasn’t defined by what was taken, the officers quickly came up with a plan to help. 

They gathered extra toys that had been collected at the station, and fellow officers and dispatchers generously donated money so the family could still have a joyful Christmas morning. Just before 3:30 a.m., the officers returned to the apartment with gifts and financial support for the mom and her sons. We couldn’t be more proud of the compassion shown by our Riverside Police Department family! 

Bruce Sokolove, Field Training Associates president, 

former Washtenaw County (MI) Sheriff’s Office undersheriff, and former Ann Arbor (MI) police officer 

My [Ann Arbor] patrol car crew partner and I were wrapping up paperwork and evidence from a nonstop Christmas Eve late show when the street boss dropped the lump of coal: As the two lowest-seniority uniforms (barely two years out of the Academy), we were being held over for Christmas Day watch. Not exactly the gift we wanted under the tree. 

Mids had already been a circus—families deciding they didn't like each other, plus one super-drunk driver who kissed a bridge abutment. In short, we'd had all the "fun" a cop should be permitted in one tour. 

Day shift’s roll call was bare bones but included a special detail: delivering Christmas baskets and gifts to families in need. Suddenly, we were Santa's helpers, loading bundles into the squad [car] and launching into bitter cold and fresh snow just after 0800. 

Sector by sector we went, until we hit 1520 Hill Street—a magnificent 1892 Queen Anne mansion once home to the city's elite. By Christmas 1972, though, it was occupied by the White Panther Party, including the families of John Sinclair and Lawrence "Pun" Plamondon, both then incarcerated for the CIA office bombing in Ann Arbor. 

Our luck? Still bad. 

We knocked and were greeted by Patricia Plamondon, five pajama-clad kids in tow, and a vocabulary that would make a sailor blush. As we stood there with packages stacked knee-high, the youngest kid pipes up: "Santa's no pig." 

We improvised: "Santa's sleigh broke down, so he asked us to help." 

Packages were snatched, door slammed, no thanks given—but hey, detail accomplished, no shots fired. 

What I'd [have] give[n] for a body-worn camera back then—classic footage lost to history. Thankfully, the rest of the deliveries came with warmer receptions. After two long shifts back-to-back, we'd found laughs not listed in the job description. 

By year's end, we reflected on the helmets, batons, and mobile field force deployments at every wave of demonstrations—SDS, New Mobilization Coalition to end the war, Weather Underground. Compared to that chaos, playing Santa wasn't such a bad detail after all.