Cinthia Alvarez saw two LA County Sheriff’s deputies walk into the store with a man she recognized from the neighborhood.
Her first thought was the worst one. The assumption so many people make when they see officers with someone who looks down on their luck, someone society has decided doesn’t belong. She thought they were arresting him. Harassing him. Removing him because his presence made someone uncomfortable.
So she followed them. Not to intervene—yet—but to witness. To see what was really happening. To document if needed.
What she saw instead changed everything.
The deputies weren’t arresting him. They were shopping with him. For him. Deputies Mee and Formica were walking through aisles, helping this man pick out new clothes. Not old donations or charity handouts, but new clothes. Clean shirts. Pants that fit. Items he could choose himself, with dignity intact.
He left the store carrying a bag from Sears, filled with clothing he needed. Clothing two officers had paid for out of their own pockets, not because it was their job, but because they’d seen someone who needed help and decided to provide it.
Cinthia realized in that moment how quickly she’d assumed the worst. How conditioned she’d become to expect police interactions to be negative, harmful, punitive. And while she acknowledged her stance against police brutality—a valid concern that shouldn’t be dismissed—she also recognized something equally important: that not all officers fit that mold. That some, like Deputies Mee and Formica, risk their lives to serve with genuine compassion.
The photo shows all three of them standing together at the checkout—two deputies in uniform flanking the man in the middle, who’s holding his bag of new clothes and smiling. It’s a simple image. Three people in a store. But it represents something profound.
It represents the officers who don’t make headlines. Who show up to work every day and help people in ways that never get reported, never get recognized, never become part of the narrative about policing. It represents the choice to see someone struggling and respond with humanity instead of authority.
Deputies Mee and Formica didn’t know Cinthia was watching. Didn’t know this moment would be photographed and shared. They were just doing what they felt was right—seeing someone in need and using their resources to help.
The man they helped had been taught by these officers that there are good people out there. People who see beyond appearance, beyond circumstances, beyond the judgments society makes about who deserves help and who doesn’t.
Cinthia’s post was both an admission and a call to action: I am against police brutality and it is amazing to know there are great deputies out there. Let’s not let the “bad seeds” taint the reputation for those great officers risking their lives.
Because both things can be true. Police brutality is real and must be addressed. And there are officers like Deputies Mee and Formica who genuinely serve their communities with compassion and integrity.
The man walked out of that store with new clothes. But more than that, he walked out knowing that two officers had seen him—really seen him—not as a problem to be managed but as a person deserving of dignity.
And Cinthia walked out with a changed perspective. A reminder that assumptions, even ones born from legitimate concerns about systemic issues, can sometimes blind us to individual acts of goodness.
Deputies Mee and Formica teach an important lesson: that the badge doesn’t define the person wearing it. That within any system—flawed as it may be—there are individuals choosing to do better. Choosing kindness. Choosing to help.
They weren’t looking for recognition. Weren’t trying to improve anyone’s perception of law enforcement. They just saw someone who needed new clothes and decided that mattered more than walking past.
Sometimes changing the narrative starts with one act of compassion. One decision to help instead of ignore. One moment where officers and community members see each other as human.
This was one of those moments.