With his bald head, light goatee and bulging arms covered in dark tattoos, Officer Kenneth Knox is an imposing figure.
The Georgia sheriff's lieutenant has been a police officer for 25 years, serving in Meriwether County since 1990. During his time on the force, he's suffered many police officers' worst nightmares - he's been stabbed and engaged in shootouts.
But the most important moment of his career, and the one that has brought him Internet fame, was when he saved a dying baby by dislodging a chunk of cereal lodged in her windpipe.
It began on September 4, when Knox received a call that a child was choking across town.
"Being a father, I go as fast as I can go to get there," Knox said. "I was going so hard, I almost jumped out of my car when it was rolling, leaving it in drive."
Added Knox, "When I jumped out there were probably 30 or 40 people in the yard, and I knew immediately who the father was, because he was running around yelling, 'Someone please save my baby.'"
When he walked into the home of Kristen Parham and her husband, he found two-month-old Ma'Yavi, who had "turned bluish purple and her eyes had gone dark."
"I had fed her an hour prior to her choking," Parham told KDFW. "We were sitting outside ... and all of a sudden she started gasping for air and white stuff was coming out of her nose and mouth."
In a panic, her father attempted CPR, but Knox thinks that further lodged cereal, which had somehow travelled back up Ma'Yavi's esophagus, in her throat.
Knox laid the child on the sofa, not a clue what he should be doing.
"All I could think was, 'Not a baby and not me, please God,'" he said.
Though Knox doesn't sound like the sort of man who generally cries in front of others, he choked back tears as he described his epiphany.
"That's why I said it came from God, [because] it hit me like a rock," Knox said. "Suck it out. She's a baby, you're a man."
He put her mouth to hers and, with all his force, attempted to do just that. It took four or five tries, but suddenly a chunk of cereal shot into his mouth and down his own throat.
Colour flooded back into Ma'Yavi's eyes.
"I swear to God she looked at me for two or three seconds with the most beautiful smile in her life," Knox said.
He posted a short version of this story along with a photograph of himself and Ma'Yavi to his Facebook. In it, he wrote:
"Out of my 25 years being a cop this is my greatest and most profound accomplishment and it made every second of those 25 years worth it all. I am forever humbled and changed by this."
It's a strikingly positive image - the burly white cop holding a fragile black infant and looking down in concern - especially now.
But, most important to Knox, is Ma'Yavi. Because, about a week later, Knox said, "The mama called me and asked if I would be interested in being her godfather, and I said it's ... a privilege."
"I know he is a great person and my baby will love him," Parham told KDFW. "Every time she sees him, she gives him a big smile."
He thinks that more acts like this could be a "gamechanger for the US" in terms of race-relations, but his personal focus is on the child, now his goddaughter.
Parham sends him photos and a short video of the child every day, and they call him Uncle Knox.
"I know the baby's part of my family," Knox said. "My grandkids and kids are gonna get to know her well. They're all family now."
Added Knox, "No matter what she does, not matter what she becomes, I'll get to see her grow up."
Washington Post