Faced with family violence, as law enforcers, do they enforce the law strictly?

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I saw this online; truly, it’s difficult for an impartial person to mediate in family matters. Faced with family disputes, as an enforcer, do you handle them strictly in accordance with legal procedures, or do you take into account human considerations and consider the parties’ own opinions? I am a firm enforcer of the law, or maybe what many people call a simpleton. I only consider my area of responsibility; you take action, if she seeks to hold someone accountable, then I will act as the arbitrator. Once your detention is over and you come out, if you hit her again, I will detain you once more and impose a stricter punishment. You might get divorced or your family might break up; it’s a choice made by both parties, as they are adults. That’s a problem with your perception. The law does not grant me the right to intervene. In my opinion, the approach is simple and requires strong execution. I don’t like you crying at me with tears streaming down your face; I don’t want to hear about your romantic relationship. At the same time, I’m not afraid of working overtime either; no matter how late it is, I will always abide by the law. I won’t act heroically to speak on your behalf. Because in my eyes, one of you is a victim and the other is an aggressor. You are equal; I just want to focus simply on my work. I’ve talked about myself now; let’s talk about you. When you came, you were crying and sobbing, recounting how he was violent and cruel, how he beat you multiple times. You said you no longer wanted to live. If we did nothing, we’d essentially be allowing him to kill you; he deserves to be cut into a thousand pieces. And a written complaint was submitted; he must be held accountable and detained. You’ve filled out the paperwork, gone to the hospital to get a medical record, and signed it as well. My partner and I stayed up all night waiting for you, and when you arrived we questioned him; he admitted it and signed the statement. At that moment, you quietly pulled me out of the office. Proud yet reluctant to lose my confidence, I asked him if he realized his mistake Looking at the un dried blood on your face and clothes, I answer you that I don’t know whether he knows he was wrong or not. The role of the law is to educate and warn others. I don’t have any responsibility for education. You also said that he must realize his mistake, because when you went to see a doctor, his parents had already apologized to you, saying they knew they were wrong and promised to behave better in the future. I got what you meant. Pretending to be oblivious, I said, “Good to know. In the future, once he’s released from custody, you two can just live your lives happily.” You say that he realizes his mistakes; a little admonishment is enough. But you need to ensure that he won’t act again, and you should also retain the right to take action against him in the future. There’s no need for detention today. I saw you acting condescending toward me; despite my height being one head taller than yours, you tilted your head up high, showing no sign of the pitiful attitude you had when you first arrived, and even imitated lines from **movies. I was displeased, so I came up with two words: “owing” and “deserved”. But I can’t say anything; I don’t want to give anyone any leverage. If I say one wrong word or sentence, I might be able to vent my emotions, but I won’t be able to achieve my goals. In my profession, I must stay calm and learn to control my emotions. I remained silent. You said again that if he’s detained, he’ll still beat you when he gets out; you that I’ll destroy your family, you have elders and children, your family faces many difficulties, and so on. . . I pretended to be distracted and checked my phone; it was already 3 a.m. I looked at my colleagues who were working overtime, the police officers who were staying in the office to keep watch, and all those unfinished case files. I didn’t want to say another word to you, nor did I want to hear you speak. I say, difficulties are no excuse for breaking the law. Look at what time it is. I know you’re having a hard time, but many of us have gone through tough times; we’re all working. If you would like, please wait in the reception room for the public outside the office area, or go home and wait. You’re stupid. You never thought I’d say something like this. You’re not willing to accept it; you think I have no compassion at all, that I intend to destroy your family. On TV, police officers are supposed to be middle-aged uncles like 40-year-old Zhao Zhongxiang—grinning, holding a big teacup, wearing thick cotton coats, and cheerfully telling you, “Just live well, that’s all you need to do.” Go back and stop making a fuss. But that young police officer’s eyes were filled with indifference, neglect, and even contempt for you. **The movie’s dialogue is completely useless, the plot makes no sense, and reality seems on the verge of collapsing. You’re too embarrassed to talk to me any more; your report is still in my possession, and it’s signed and stamped with your fingerprints. But you know you can’t face this reality. You chose to call your in-laws and tell them that the police wanted to detain your husband; of course, you didn’t describe the statements you had made, nor your pitiful appearance when you arrived, or your determination to kill him. You said that the police completely ignored you and insisted on detaining your husband. It sounds like he has some kind of deep hatred for the police. Your in-laws are concerned about their son; at 3 a.m., they are upset. They rushed over, put on smiling faces, and said that their son and daughter-in-law were thoughtless; they were willing to make peace. Never mind, forget it. I said the case has already been accepted and entered into the police system, so it cannot be canceled. Your wife has prepared written documents, in black and white, requesting that your son be detained; citizens have the right to protect their personal rights through the public security authorities. You’re afraid your in-laws will scold you, so you quickly say that you didn’t write it. Your in-laws asked me to take it out and show it to them. I know you want to destroy the evidence. Very officially, I must say that I can’t show it to you. I only deal with the parties involved; the evidence has already been filed in the records. You claim that the materials I provided are forged. I say you can think whatever you want – that I can conjure it up by magic – and you can go to court for administrative reconsideration after receiving the administrative penalty decision. You’ll know right away; from my eyes, you’ll see that I won’t give up. You’re speechless; you keep threatening me, saying you’ll file a complaint and call the mayor’s hotline. You threw a tantrum and grabbed onto the door of the processing area. I ignore it. You and your relatives argued throughout the night. As you watched me take him to the detention center, you cursed me in the vilest terms. I can’t hear what you’re saying. I’m so tired; it’s been a whole night, and I’m emotionally exhausted. I didn’t even change my uniform; I got into my own car and wanted to leave the police station to go home and get some sleep. You blocked my car, threatened that I had ruined your home, and demanded that I run over you. The leader came and pulled you away. I drove away without looking back. I don’t know how long I slept; then my boss called to ask about my situation. I’m telling the truth. The leader said, You did the right thing. But when I heard the word \"but,\" I put my phone aside. There’s no need to listen anymore. My political judgment isn’t mature, and I’m not malicious at heart. In today’s harmonious society, I caused an elderly man, an elderly woman, and a young woman to go through such distress. I’ve brought shame to my workplace and caused trouble for my superiors. I’m a bookworm who graduated from a police academy; I only know how to handle cases and am not familiar with the ways of the world. I also have to write replies to calls made through the mayor’s hotline, as well as replies to complaints submitted via 110. It’s not troublesome; for me, it takes 5 minutes to finish writing it all. I write often; I have templates. It can’t do anything to me. The next day, when I entered the office, an old colleague who was about to retire and with whom I got along well greeted me smilingly, saying that I had given the director a huge headache. Call me stubborn; so stubborn that I’d rather die. They say I have no experience, and that by doing this I only cause trouble for myself and let others say that I’m politically immature and not fit to take on responsibilities – what good can I gain from that? Yes, he’s absolutely right. What good can I possibly get from this? He was the only section chief in the history of the branch at the age of 25, and he was proud and arrogant. But he just happens to like me, and I just happen to play with him. He’s absolutely right; what more can I expect? Yet, with such sharp political wisdom, he gets along best with someone as simple-minded as me. What else has he gained besides that regular government position? Later I thought that perhaps I had gained what he hadn’t had in his youth. Yesterday, the couple came again and called 110, saying that he wanted to kill her because he was drunk. As soon as they got out of the police car, they saw that it was my shift; the man had sobered up, while the woman was stunned. I looked at them and said to her, go write up the report; don’t forget to put your fingerprint on it. . .