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It took me 20 years to finally sit and write something about how I felt. It felt good to do this. I sat and just typed away. Please forgive me for any spelling, punctuation, or grammatical errors. I wanted to share this with those of you who feel or felt the way I have at times, and to let you know you’re not alone.
Here goes….
I was a cop. I used to be so proud to wear this uniform and badge. I used to be able to help you solve your problems. I used to be able to help you settle an argument with your lover. I used to be able to help you correct your child when they made a mistake. I used to be able to call you a ride home when I stopped you after you had one too many. I used to be able to look the other way when you made a bad choice after having a bad day. I used to be able to chase down the stickup man or the burglar who stole what you worked so hard for.
Now, I am a policeman who hides his uniform and badge from the public, family, and friends. I am now a machine. I’m not allowed to make a choice. I’m no longer entrusted with the power to do the right thing. The right thing is now the letter of the law and the letter of a policy.
I must follow policy and the letter of the law to the T. If I don’t, I become the villain. If I don’t, I’ll find myself looking for a job, or worse…..a lawyer trying to keep me from going to prison and losing everything I have worked so hard for to give my family. All while the agency and some politically charged district attorney seeks to put me in his cap like a pimp’s feather.
If I try to help you out with the goodness of my heart, I’m burned. If I try to help you resolve a family dispute with your spouse and not make an arrest, I’m burned. If I try to get you a ride after seeing you made a mistake and drove home after having one too many, I’m burned. If I try to help you after you had a stressful day and you had a heated argument with your lover, I’m burned. If I chase down the guy who stuck a gun in your face and stole what you worked so hard for, I’m burned. No matter what I do or don’t do, I’m burned.
For hours, days, weeks, months or years, the agency and lawyers comb through what I did in a split second and crucify me from their chairs and desks. Never mind what I saw or felt at the exact moment I took action. Never mind my good intentions. Never mind I saved a man’s life. Never mind me looking the other way and giving a kid a break, a break that changed his life, a break helps him becomes something. Something so real.
No matter what I do or don’t do, I’m tried by the media and thecourt of public opinion, all while some hack smears me while not knowing the facts, and brings my family and friends into the mix. When I am in the right, I am always in the wrong.
The admin, not my friend. My coworker, not my friend. The citizen, not my friend. Often I wonder, who is my friend? Do I have any friends? Who can I trust? Who can I talk to? Often, the hard-way, I find out, it is no one, not even myself.
Perhaps it is me, not the criminal, who is serving the sentence watching the seconds, the hours, the days, the weeks, the months, and the years slowly drag on till I can get my pension. Then, maybe just then, I can move on to something better. Something happier. Maybe one day, I’ll be happy again. I feel like a parent who foolishly stays married to my spouse for the children, while counting down till the last child moves out and goes to college so I sign these damn divorce papers, and move on with whatever is left of my life.
If the agency offered me a fair buyout, I’d give them every little police item I have, right down to my very handcuff key I have in my drawer. They can keep that retirement badge along with the framed certificate of appreciation. Just let me go with what I earned.
Most of all, I wish I could get rid of the memories that haunt me. The times where I go out and have flashbacks that change my mood and stopped the fun I was having. The nightmares that wake me with sheets so sweat soaked, they have to be changed so I can try to fall back asleep. The nightmares that wake up my family as I squirm while yelling and screaming, as I fight for my life and your life. The moments I felt useless and helpless, while your loved one or child begged me to help. But, no matter what I did, I couldn’t stop what was already in motion. I wish I could erase the moments I sat in a patrol car, the office, and my garage, thinking about putting my gun to my head and pulling the trigger, ending my life, just hoping I can find peace and erase the painful memories that haunt me day and night. I wipe my tears and have to remind myself, if I was to pull that trigger, the agency and the savages of society would win, and my family and loved ones would lose, and be left to clean up my bloodymess.
I often ask myself, am I the fool for holding on? It seems only time will tell.
Like I said, I used to be a cop. Now, I’m nothing but a policeman. A useless machine that the government sends you. I'm here to follow a policy that says I shall or shall not. I'm here enforce a law that says you may or may not, nothing more, nothing less.
Don’t blame me, you've created this mess.
Here goes….
I was a cop. I used to be so proud to wear this uniform and badge. I used to be able to help you solve your problems. I used to be able to help you settle an argument with your lover. I used to be able to help you correct your child when they made a mistake. I used to be able to call you a ride home when I stopped you after you had one too many. I used to be able to look the other way when you made a bad choice after having a bad day. I used to be able to chase down the stickup man or the burglar who stole what you worked so hard for.
Now, I am a policeman who hides his uniform and badge from the public, family, and friends. I am now a machine. I’m not allowed to make a choice. I’m no longer entrusted with the power to do the right thing. The right thing is now the letter of the law and the letter of a policy.
I must follow policy and the letter of the law to the T. If I don’t, I become the villain. If I don’t, I’ll find myself looking for a job, or worse…..a lawyer trying to keep me from going to prison and losing everything I have worked so hard for to give my family. All while the agency and some politically charged district attorney seeks to put me in his cap like a pimp’s feather.
If I try to help you out with the goodness of my heart, I’m burned. If I try to help you resolve a family dispute with your spouse and not make an arrest, I’m burned. If I try to get you a ride after seeing you made a mistake and drove home after having one too many, I’m burned. If I try to help you after you had a stressful day and you had a heated argument with your lover, I’m burned. If I chase down the guy who stuck a gun in your face and stole what you worked so hard for, I’m burned. No matter what I do or don’t do, I’m burned.
For hours, days, weeks, months or years, the agency and lawyers comb through what I did in a split second and crucify me from their chairs and desks. Never mind what I saw or felt at the exact moment I took action. Never mind my good intentions. Never mind I saved a man’s life. Never mind me looking the other way and giving a kid a break, a break that changed his life, a break helps him becomes something. Something so real.
No matter what I do or don’t do, I’m tried by the media and thecourt of public opinion, all while some hack smears me while not knowing the facts, and brings my family and friends into the mix. When I am in the right, I am always in the wrong.
The admin, not my friend. My coworker, not my friend. The citizen, not my friend. Often I wonder, who is my friend? Do I have any friends? Who can I trust? Who can I talk to? Often, the hard-way, I find out, it is no one, not even myself.
Perhaps it is me, not the criminal, who is serving the sentence watching the seconds, the hours, the days, the weeks, the months, and the years slowly drag on till I can get my pension. Then, maybe just then, I can move on to something better. Something happier. Maybe one day, I’ll be happy again. I feel like a parent who foolishly stays married to my spouse for the children, while counting down till the last child moves out and goes to college so I sign these damn divorce papers, and move on with whatever is left of my life.
If the agency offered me a fair buyout, I’d give them every little police item I have, right down to my very handcuff key I have in my drawer. They can keep that retirement badge along with the framed certificate of appreciation. Just let me go with what I earned.
Most of all, I wish I could get rid of the memories that haunt me. The times where I go out and have flashbacks that change my mood and stopped the fun I was having. The nightmares that wake me with sheets so sweat soaked, they have to be changed so I can try to fall back asleep. The nightmares that wake up my family as I squirm while yelling and screaming, as I fight for my life and your life. The moments I felt useless and helpless, while your loved one or child begged me to help. But, no matter what I did, I couldn’t stop what was already in motion. I wish I could erase the moments I sat in a patrol car, the office, and my garage, thinking about putting my gun to my head and pulling the trigger, ending my life, just hoping I can find peace and erase the painful memories that haunt me day and night. I wipe my tears and have to remind myself, if I was to pull that trigger, the agency and the savages of society would win, and my family and loved ones would lose, and be left to clean up my bloodymess.
I often ask myself, am I the fool for holding on? It seems only time will tell.
Like I said, I used to be a cop. Now, I’m nothing but a policeman. A useless machine that the government sends you. I'm here to follow a policy that says I shall or shall not. I'm here enforce a law that says you may or may not, nothing more, nothing less.
Don’t blame me, you've created this mess.
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