Personal Narrative: A Career As A Police Officer

As a trained police officer, I run towards the fight while everyone else retreats. This sometimes means putting my personal safety second to someone in need. There are inherent dangers that come with my profession. In fact; if I take the time to actually reflect on my 23-year career, it is terrifying to comprehend the situations that could have ended a number of different ways. Every call I answered potentially could have been the last.
Not knowing what to expect, the day filled simultaneously with nerves and excitement when I started my career as a police officer in the summer of 1992. Looking back now, I was a mere naive twenty-one year old kid who looked even younger. Being small in stature, the gun belt resembled an inner tube

hanging around my waist and little hands made holding the heavy Smith & Wesson .40 pistol a challenge. The idea of her daughter becoming a police officer frightened my mom. She couldn’t bear the thought of her baby girl being in dangerous situations associated with police work. Nevertheless, I felt this was my calling and determined to fulfill the dream I had been carrying since the seventh grade.
After completing four months of the physically challenging and mentally rewarding police training program, I started on the morning watch shift – working 11:00 p.m. to 7:00 a.m. – in the county’s busiest and fastest paced precinct. This is definitely where I would be able to utilize my newly learned skills.
Within the first week of being on the road with my Field Training Officer, we arrived at a traffic stop to assist another officer. The occupants in the vehicle suspected of shoplifting after stealing cigarettes from a convenience store. As I stepped out of our patrol car, my nerves kicked in and felt my heart rate increase. At 2:00 a.m. on a brisk, dark November morning I could see my breath every time it hit the air. Within seconds, I observed the original officer drawing his weapon as he backed away from the passenger side door of the violator’s vehicle while simultaneously yelling, “GUN!” Before fully comprehending the situation, my gun was in my hand. All of the gruelling hours spent drawing my weapon during the academy training apparently created the muscle memory necessary and reaction kicked in without me having to process the motions. Although, the back seat passenger had a gun lying on the floorboard under his feet, he did not show intent to harm us that night.
Expressing an interest in the undercover narcotics until, I transferred after working five years as a patrol officer.

During an investigation of a known drug house the unit prepared to conduct a search warrant. Because of the late hour when we arrived, most people had already gone to bed. Knowing this, we loudly announced “Police, open the door!” as we knocked. Standing on the front porch, waiting to enter, a series of gunshots rang out from inside the residence in our direction. Instinctively, to take cover, I dove off the porch into a row of hedges. Fortunately, no one got shot by gunfire in the incident. After further commands given to the resident, he surrendered enabling us to resolve the situation peacefully.
After a three-year stint in narcotics, I returned to a precinct to work uniform patrol. As a patrolled during my shift on a Tuesday morning around 10:00 a.m., I passed two men in an older model Mustang who were not wearing their seat belts. In addition to the known violation, my instincts told me there was something different about the occupants. As the hair on the back of my neck stood up it furthered my suspicions. This would later prove to be anything but a routine traffic

stop.
To initiate a traffic stop, I activated my blue lights and followed the vehicle down Discovery Boulevard until the driver pulled into the Simmons Mattress Company. When I approached the vehicle, I recall taking note of the passenger more so than the driver. Sitting starkly upright with his knees together and his hands on lap, the passenger reminded me of someone scolded by his parents for poor posture. With the intent to issue both a citation for failing to secure their seatbelt, I asked for their identification. The passenger unable to provide one he hesitated and had difficulty spelling his name. In general, most people don’t normally forget their name; much less how to spell it.
Once I obtained the driver’s license and supposed name of the passenger, I returned to my patrol vehicle. By that time, my partner arrived and I was in the process of telling him something didn’t seem right with the occupants. To my surprise, the brake lights come on and the Mustang sped away. Reaching speeds of 90 mph as we gave chase, the driver ultimately lost control as he spun out in the gravel parking lot. Both occupants bailed abandoning the vehicle. The driver went one way; the passenger another. As I play the scenario in my head, I can vividly see the passenger reach to his right side as he ran. Over the years, one thing I learned is people instinctively check for their possessions.
During a short foot pursuit, I located the passenger lying in a brush pile in the wood line. Knowing what I previously perceived, I held him at gunpoint until my partner located us. After securing him in handcuffs, we found a gun on the ground where he lay. Moreover, chills run down my spine when I consider how this situation could have ended.
In conclusion, going through my career, encountering situations that displayed a high propensity for violence and injury changed how I approached the next call. I learned to rely on my instinct, knowledge, and training. There are countless situations where the end result could have been different; however, these in particular, stuck in my head more so than others. Any of these calls could have been the last.