{"id":47540,"date":"2026-04-20T08:48:40","date_gmt":"2026-04-20T08:48:40","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=47540"},"modified":"2026-04-20T08:48:40","modified_gmt":"2026-04-20T08:48:40","slug":"a-corrupt-cop-dragged-a-battered-boy-into-my-hospital-and-violently-assaulted-our-triage-nurse-for-trying-to-help-he-laughed-and-called-me-a-helpless-old-man-when-i-intervened-he-had-no-idea-i-was-a","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=47540","title":{"rendered":"A corrupt cop dragged a battered boy into my hospital and violently assaulted our triage nurse for trying to help. He laughed and called me a helpless old man when I intervened. He had no idea I was a former federal civil rights prosecutor. I made one phone call to the FBI and destroyed his life, but the dark secret he was trying to beat out of that poor kid will haunt you…"},"content":{"rendered":"
\n

Part 1<\/b><\/p>\n

My name is Robert Vance. I am fifty-eight years old, living a quiet, deliberately invisible life in the sprawling, gray suburbs of Philadelphia. For the past decade, I have worked as a low-level compliance director at St. Jude\u2019s Memorial Hospital, a job that requires pushing papers and avoiding people. It is a fitting purgatory. Fifteen years ago, I was a seasoned federal civil rights prosecutor, a man who believed in the absolute sanctity of the law. But I walked away when I failed to protect a crucial whistleblower\u2014a young paramedic who had bravely reported systemic police brutality. My bureaucratic hesitation allowed a corrupt department to destroy her life. The unbearable guilt dismantled my career, my marriage, and my courage. I convinced myself that staying out of the fray was the only way a broken man could survive.<\/p>\n

That fragile illusion shattered on a freezing Tuesday evening. I was walking through the chaotic emergency receiving bay when a city squad car screeched to a violent halt. A heavily built officer, a man whose badge read Miller, dragged out a handcuffed, badly beaten young boy named Marcus. The kid was barely conscious, bleeding profusely from a severe head wound that clearly had not come from a simple arrest.<\/p>\n

Evelyn, a dedicated and fiercely compassionate triage nurse, immediately rushed forward to assess the boy’s critical injuries. Instead of stepping back, Officer Miller aggressively blocked her path. When she insisted on doing her job, the officer\u2019s face twisted in sudden, unjustified rage. He violently shoved Evelyn against the concrete wall, twisting her wrist backward with enough force to make her scream, and reached for his heavy steel handcuffs to detain her for “interfering.”<\/p>\n

I stood frozen near the double doors. The hospital security guards looked away, paralyzed by the badge Miller wore. The sterile, fluorescent lights hummed above us as history threatened to repeat its darkest chapter right before my eyes. The ghost of my past failure gripped my throat, urging me to retreat into the safe shadows. But as Miller aggressively unclipped his heavy tactical baton, raising it toward the terrified nurse, the familiar weight of my old federal credentials suddenly burned in my breast pocket. I stepped off the curb, my heart pounding a frantic rhythm. Was I about to risk my life and my quiet sanctuary for two strangers, or was stepping into the line of fire the only way to finally resurrect my own dead soul?<\/p>\n

Part 2<\/b><\/p>\n

The cold rain swept through the open ambulance bay as I stepped firmly between the furious officer and the trembling nurse. I didn’t have a weapon, nor did I possess the physical strength of my youth. All I had was the heavy, suffocating weight of my past regrets and a sudden, desperate need to make things right. When Miller saw me approach, an older man in a wrinkled tweed jacket, he let out a harsh, dismissive laugh.<\/p>\n

“Back off, old man, or you’re going in cuffs too for obstructing justice,” he snarled, his grip tightening on Evelyn\u2019s twisted arm.<\/p>\n

I planted my feet on the wet concrete, ignoring the trembling in my knees. “Release her immediately, Officer Miller,” I said. My voice, dormant for a decade, emerged with the steady, unyielding baritone of the federal prosecutor I used to be. “You are on federal hospital property. There are six high-definition cameras recording every micro-expression on your face, and as the compliance director, I have the sole authority over that footage. If that baton touches her, you will not just lose your badge. You will face a federal civil rights indictment by tomorrow morning.”<\/p>\n

Miller hesitated, his eyes darting toward the security cameras mounted above the automatic doors. The absolute certainty in my voice made him falter. But pride is a dangerous toxin. His jaw clenched, and instead of releasing Evelyn, he aggressively shoved her aside and lunged at me. His heavy shoulder slammed into my chest, knocking the breath from my lungs and sending a sharp, terrifying pain radiating down my ribs. I stumbled backward but refused to fall. I looked past him, locking eyes with Evelyn.<\/p>\n

“Get the boy inside, now!” I barked, coughing through the pain.<\/p>\n

Evelyn, finding a sudden reservoir of profound courage, grabbed Marcus\u2019s stretcher and pushed him through the sliding glass doors toward the trauma bay. Miller cursed and tried to pursue them, but I moved into his path again. I pulled out my phone, dialing the direct line of the current FBI Field Office Director\u2014a man who had been my junior partner fifteen years ago. It was a card I had sworn never to play, a connection to a past that brought me nothing but grief. Invoking his name meant dragging myself back into the ugly, political warzone of civil rights litigation, completely destroying the quiet, anonymous life I had meticulously built.<\/p>\n

As the phone rang, I stared into Miller\u2019s angry, desperate eyes. I saw the same unchecked brutality that had haunted my nightmares. He raised his fist, ready to strike me down, forcing me to decide if a stranger’s life was worth the physical beating. I didn’t flinch. I let the phone ring on speaker, the unmistakable voice of federal authority answering on the other end. I was terrified, my heart hammering against my bruised ribs, but as I stated my name and the officer’s badge number, a strange, overwhelming sense of peace washed over me. I wasn’t running anymore. The cowardly ghost of my past was finally laid to rest, replaced by a fierce, undeniable need to protect those who could not protect themselves.<\/p>\n

Part 3<\/b><\/p>\n

The arrival of the federal agents shifted the atmosphere in the emergency bay from terror to absolute, clinical accountability. Within twenty minutes, my former colleague arrived with a team of seasoned investigators. I watched quietly from the sidelines as Officer Miller, completely stripped of his duty belt and his arrogant sneer, was escorted into the back of an unmarked federal vehicle. His unprovoked assault, coupled with his desperate attempt to falsify the arrest report to cover up the severe, life-threatening beating he had inflicted on the boy, resulted in swift federal civil rights charges.<\/p>\n

Inside the hospital, the frantic rhythm of the trauma unit had finally stabilized. Evelyn, despite the dark, painful bruises rapidly blooming around her wrists, flatly refused to go home. I found her in the intensive care unit, meticulously checking the vital signs of the young boy, Marcus. He had suffered a severe concussion and internal bleeding, but thanks to her unyielding dedication and rapid intervention, he was going to survive. When Evelyn saw me standing in the doorway, she didn’t offer a dramatic, tearful speech. She simply offered a weary, deeply profound nod of gratitude. In that silent, heavy exchange, a resilient bridge of absolute trust was forged between two ordinary people who had chosen to hold the line against unchecked cruelty.<\/p>\n

The legal aftermath was a grueling, months-long ordeal. I was called to testify in a crowded federal court, standing mere feet away from the man who had violently assaulted us. My testimony, securely backed by Evelyn\u2019s impeccable medical documentation and the pristine hospital security footage, led to Miller\u2019s undeniable conviction. During the trial, I learned that Marcus had been targeted because he had witnessed corruption in his impoverished neighborhood\u2014a dangerous truth he chose to keep entirely to himself, an unspoken secret that remained permanently buried even after justice was served. It was a sobering, complex reminder that not every wound is visible, and not every truth is fully brought into the unforgiving light.<\/p>\n

That freezing Tuesday evening fundamentally altered the trajectory of my remaining years. I did not return to the cowardly shadows of administrative purgatory. I actively renewed my legal license, taking a passionate position as a senior advisor for a civil rights advocacy group specifically protecting frontline healthcare workers. I finally understood that true redemption is not found in forgetting the past, but in using the heavy scars of your failures as a sturdy shield to protect the vulnerable. In stepping into the line of fire to save Evelyn and that battered boy, I had miraculously resuscitated the fractured, dying remnants of my own humanity. We cannot change the tragedies of our past, but we always have the power to decide who we will be in the unforgiving present. My quiet, miserable life was over, replaced by a beautiful, hard-fought purpose. I realized that the heavy burden of my past was no longer an anchor dragging me down, but the very foundation upon which I could help rebuild broken lives.<\/p>\n

Thank you so deeply for taking the time to read my story.<\/p>\n

Have you ever risked everything to help a stranger? Please share your own experiences of courage in the comments below.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Part 1 My name is Robert Vance. I am fifty-eight years old, living a quiet, deliberately invisible life in the sprawling, gray suburbs of Philadelphia. For the past decade, I have worked as a low-level compliance director at St. Jude\u2019s Memorial Hospital, a job that requires pushing papers and avoiding people. It is a fitting […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":47543,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"tdm_status":"","tdm_grid_status":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[4],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-47540","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","category-purpose"],"yoast_head":"\nA corrupt cop dragged a battered boy into my hospital and violently assaulted our triage nurse for trying to help. He laughed and called me a helpless old man when I intervened. He had no idea I was a former federal civil rights prosecutor. I made one phone call to the FBI and destroyed his life, but the dark secret he was trying to beat out of that poor kid will haunt you... - Purposeful Days<\/title>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" href=\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=47540\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"en_US\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:type\" content=\"article\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:title\" content=\"A corrupt cop dragged a battered boy into my hospital and violently assaulted our triage nurse for trying to help. He laughed and called me a helpless old man when I intervened. He had no idea I was a former federal civil rights prosecutor. I made one phone call to the FBI and destroyed his life, but the dark secret he was trying to beat out of that poor kid will haunt you... - Purposeful Days\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:description\" content=\"Part 1 My name is Robert Vance. I am fifty-eight years old, living a quiet, deliberately invisible life in the sprawling, gray suburbs of Philadelphia. For the past decade, I have worked as a low-level compliance director at St. Jude\u2019s Memorial Hospital, a job that requires pushing papers and avoiding people. It is a fitting […]\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:url\" content=\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=47540\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:site_name\" content=\"Purposeful Days\" \/>\n<meta property=\"article:published_time\" content=\"2026-04-20T08:48:40+00:00\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:image\" content=\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/04\/f142020b-e18b-4075-b6c5-b9cfd21afe52.jpg\" \/>\n\t<meta property=\"og:image:width\" content=\"1000\" \/>\n\t<meta property=\"og:image:height\" content=\"1000\" \/>\n\t<meta property=\"og:image:type\" content=\"image\/jpeg\" \/>\n<meta name=\"author\" content=\"Phong Nguyen\" \/>\n<meta name=\"twitter:card\" content=\"summary_large_image\" \/>\n<meta name=\"twitter:label1\" content=\"Written by\" \/>\n\t<meta name=\"twitter:data1\" content=\"Phong Nguyen\" \/>\n\t<meta name=\"twitter:label2\" content=\"Est. reading time\" \/>\n\t<meta name=\"twitter:data2\" content=\"7 minutes\" \/>\n<script type=\"application\/ld+json\" class=\"yoast-schema-graph\">{\"@context\":\"https:\/\/schema.org\",\"@graph\":[{\"@type\":\"WebPage\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=47540\",\"url\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=47540\",\"name\":\"A corrupt cop dragged a battered boy into my hospital and violently assaulted our triage nurse for trying to help. He laughed and called me a helpless old man when I intervened. He had no idea I was a former federal civil rights prosecutor. I made one phone call to the FBI and destroyed his life, but the dark secret he was trying to beat out of that poor kid will haunt you... - Purposeful Days\",\"isPartOf\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/#website\"},\"primaryImageOfPage\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=47540#primaryimage\"},\"image\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=47540#primaryimage\"},\"thumbnailUrl\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/04\/f142020b-e18b-4075-b6c5-b9cfd21afe52.jpg\",\"datePublished\":\"2026-04-20T08:48:40+00:00\",\"author\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/#\/schema\/person\/4bbf0aec017fee1fb5027b7c39e98951\"},\"breadcrumb\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=47540#breadcrumb\"},\"inLanguage\":\"en-US\",\"potentialAction\":[{\"@type\":\"ReadAction\",\"target\":[\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=47540\"]}]},{\"@type\":\"ImageObject\",\"inLanguage\":\"en-US\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=47540#primaryimage\",\"url\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/04\/f142020b-e18b-4075-b6c5-b9cfd21afe52.jpg\",\"contentUrl\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/04\/f142020b-e18b-4075-b6c5-b9cfd21afe52.jpg\",\"width\":1000,\"height\":1000},{\"@type\":\"BreadcrumbList\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=47540#breadcrumb\",\"itemListElement\":[{\"@type\":\"ListItem\",\"position\":1,\"name\":\"Home\",\"item\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/\"},{\"@type\":\"ListItem\",\"position\":2,\"name\":\"A corrupt cop dragged a battered boy into my hospital and violently assaulted our triage nurse for trying to help. He laughed and called me a helpless old man when I intervened. He had no idea I was a former federal civil rights prosecutor. I made one phone call to the FBI and destroyed his life, but the dark secret he was trying to beat out of that poor kid will haunt you…\"}]},{\"@type\":\"WebSite\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/#website\",\"url\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/\",\"name\":\"Purposeful Days\",\"description\":\"\",\"potentialAction\":[{\"@type\":\"SearchAction\",\"target\":{\"@type\":\"EntryPoint\",\"urlTemplate\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?s={search_term_string}\"},\"query-input\":{\"@type\":\"PropertyValueSpecification\",\"valueRequired\":true,\"valueName\":\"search_term_string\"}}],\"inLanguage\":\"en-US\"},{\"@type\":\"Person\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/#\/schema\/person\/4bbf0aec017fee1fb5027b7c39e98951\",\"name\":\"Phong Nguyen\",\"image\":{\"@type\":\"ImageObject\",\"inLanguage\":\"en-US\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/#\/schema\/person\/image\/\",\"url\":\"https:\/\/secure.gravatar.com\/avatar\/9e2b64a6c1ed5f8027bfe6755272684b8d3b9607a7de613d6bdb22d00442333c?s=96&d=mm&r=g\",\"contentUrl\":\"https:\/\/secure.gravatar.com\/avatar\/9e2b64a6c1ed5f8027bfe6755272684b8d3b9607a7de613d6bdb22d00442333c?s=96&d=mm&r=g\",\"caption\":\"Phong Nguyen\"},\"sameAs\":[\"http:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\"],\"url\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?author=3\"}]}<\/script>\n<!-- \/ Yoast SEO plugin. -->","yoast_head_json":{"title":"A corrupt cop dragged a battered boy into my hospital and violently assaulted our triage nurse for trying to help. He laughed and called me a helpless old man when I intervened. He had no idea I was a former federal civil rights prosecutor. I made one phone call to the FBI and destroyed his life, but the dark secret he was trying to beat out of that poor kid will haunt you... - Purposeful Days","robots":{"index":"index","follow":"follow","max-snippet":"max-snippet:-1","max-image-preview":"max-image-preview:large","max-video-preview":"max-video-preview:-1"},"canonical":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=47540","og_locale":"en_US","og_type":"article","og_title":"A corrupt cop dragged a battered boy into my hospital and violently assaulted our triage nurse for trying to help. He laughed and called me a helpless old man when I intervened. He had no idea I was a former federal civil rights prosecutor. I made one phone call to the FBI and destroyed his life, but the dark secret he was trying to beat out of that poor kid will haunt you... - Purposeful Days","og_description":"Part 1 My name is Robert Vance. I am fifty-eight years old, living a quiet, deliberately invisible life in the sprawling, gray suburbs of Philadelphia. For the past decade, I have worked as a low-level compliance director at St. Jude\u2019s Memorial Hospital, a job that requires pushing papers and avoiding people. It is a fitting […]","og_url":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=47540","og_site_name":"Purposeful Days","article_published_time":"2026-04-20T08:48:40+00:00","og_image":[{"width":1000,"height":1000,"url":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/04\/f142020b-e18b-4075-b6c5-b9cfd21afe52.jpg","type":"image\/jpeg"}],"author":"Phong Nguyen","twitter_card":"summary_large_image","twitter_misc":{"Written by":"Phong Nguyen","Est. reading time":"7 minutes"},"schema":{"@context":"https:\/\/schema.org","@graph":[{"@type":"WebPage","@id":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=47540","url":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=47540","name":"A corrupt cop dragged a battered boy into my hospital and violently assaulted our triage nurse for trying to help. He laughed and called me a helpless old man when I intervened. He had no idea I was a former federal civil rights prosecutor. I made one phone call to the FBI and destroyed his life, but the dark secret he was trying to beat out of that poor kid will haunt you... - Purposeful Days","isPartOf":{"@id":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/#website"},"primaryImageOfPage":{"@id":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=47540#primaryimage"},"image":{"@id":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=47540#primaryimage"},"thumbnailUrl":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/04\/f142020b-e18b-4075-b6c5-b9cfd21afe52.jpg","datePublished":"2026-04-20T08:48:40+00:00","author":{"@id":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/#\/schema\/person\/4bbf0aec017fee1fb5027b7c39e98951"},"breadcrumb":{"@id":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=47540#breadcrumb"},"inLanguage":"en-US","potentialAction":[{"@type":"ReadAction","target":["https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=47540"]}]},{"@type":"ImageObject","inLanguage":"en-US","@id":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=47540#primaryimage","url":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/04\/f142020b-e18b-4075-b6c5-b9cfd21afe52.jpg","contentUrl":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/04\/f142020b-e18b-4075-b6c5-b9cfd21afe52.jpg","width":1000,"height":1000},{"@type":"BreadcrumbList","@id":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=47540#breadcrumb","itemListElement":[{"@type":"ListItem","position":1,"name":"Home","item":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/"},{"@type":"ListItem","position":2,"name":"A corrupt cop dragged a battered boy into my hospital and violently assaulted our triage nurse for trying to help. He laughed and called me a helpless old man when I intervened. He had no idea I was a former federal civil rights prosecutor. I made one phone call to the FBI and destroyed his life, but the dark secret he was trying to beat out of that poor kid will haunt you…"}]},{"@type":"WebSite","@id":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/#website","url":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/","name":"Purposeful Days","description":"","potentialAction":[{"@type":"SearchAction","target":{"@type":"EntryPoint","urlTemplate":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?s={search_term_string}"},"query-input":{"@type":"PropertyValueSpecification","valueRequired":true,"valueName":"search_term_string"}}],"inLanguage":"en-US"},{"@type":"Person","@id":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/#\/schema\/person\/4bbf0aec017fee1fb5027b7c39e98951","name":"Phong Nguyen","image":{"@type":"ImageObject","inLanguage":"en-US","@id":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/#\/schema\/person\/image\/","url":"https:\/\/secure.gravatar.com\/avatar\/9e2b64a6c1ed5f8027bfe6755272684b8d3b9607a7de613d6bdb22d00442333c?s=96&d=mm&r=g","contentUrl":"https:\/\/secure.gravatar.com\/avatar\/9e2b64a6c1ed5f8027bfe6755272684b8d3b9607a7de613d6bdb22d00442333c?s=96&d=mm&r=g","caption":"Phong Nguyen"},"sameAs":["http:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org"],"url":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?author=3"}]}},"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/47540","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/3"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=47540"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/47540\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":47544,"href":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/47540\/revisions\/47544"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/47543"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=47540"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=47540"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=47540"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}