Editor’s Note: This week’s essay comes from PoliceOne Member Jim Coleman, a Detective at a Police Department in the Western United States. Coleman wrote in with his essay and requested that we also publish his email address, in case any officer out there would like to reach out to him for assistance in a similar matter. In PoliceOne “First Person” essays, our Members and Columnists candidly share their own unique view of the world. This is a platform from which individual officers can share their own personal insights on issues confronting cops today, as well as opinions, observations, and advice on living life behind the thin blue line. If you want to share your own perspective with other P1 Members, simply send us an e-mail with your story.
By Jim Coleman
Police1 Member
A little over two years ago, while I was still on patrol, I handled my first suicide. I found a 14-year-old boy who hanged himself.
At the end of my shift that day, I wrote a journal entry about the scene and my emotional processing of it.
Here is the writing in its raw form from the night I wrote it.
June 29, 2010
Had a rough night at work tonight; worked my first suicide. I was dispatched to a 14-year-old kid who was unconscious and not breathing. I was first on scene.
The kid’s stepmom met me outside the house and was frantically waiving me in. I go into the home and find the kid lying lifeless on his bedroom floor. His Dad was also in the bedroom, distraught, crying, and wearing a helpless-hopeless look on his face.
The kid had liquid, vomit I presume, coming from his mouth. I did not see the point of giving rescue breaths, so I went straight to chest compressions — my first time giving them for real. To my surprise, the kid’s chest felt just like the Red Cross CPR dummies. I was surprised to not feel his ribs break, as I had expected to. Later I learned Dad had already been doing CPR and may have broken them then...
Fortunately for me, the ambulance and fire crew were less than two minutes behind me. Although none of us were early enough. I continued chest compressions on scene while medical personnel gave the kids intravenous drugs and tried to clear his throat.
I looked up at one point and noticed the homemade noose hanging in his closet. I guess Dad found him hanging there. The amazing thing is the noose was just 42 inches above the ground (as we later learned). Amazing tenacity for a 14-year-old, or anyone for that matter... A total commitment to ending his life.
We continued trying to get a response from the kid, but he was well gone. At the end of my shift I was telling my wife how I somehow knew he was already gone, even when I was ‘working’ him. There is an odd, unexplainable feel in the air... I could just tell I was doing compressions on an empty shell.
At the hospital I met with the victims advocate, who requested my assistance in contacting the kids mom, who lives out of state. Happy one year anniversary Jim, you get to do your first suicide and your first death notification in the same day... Exhausting.
I think sometimes our minds are wholly unprepared to comprehend some things.
Like hearing from two strangers — over the phone — that your kid killed himself. His mom didn’t know what hit her or what to say... All that came out of her mouth were indiscernible, loud sounds. Poor lady, I can’t begin to imagine the pain.
The law enforcement profession is an interesting one... The expectation of officers, who, shall we forget, are humans too, is to handle such traumatic events with perfect emotionless poise and continue on as if you just handled an everyday call.
I have to say, I’m a little confused by my own emotions. Of course you must employ self control during the incident and the aftermath. Stifle all emotion. Be the rock for others to turn to and lean on.
It’s kind of like stifling a sneeze or other body function when giving in would be inappropriate. After you hold it for just the right amount of time, the desire disappears. Apparently the same is true for repressed emotions. When given the opportunity to display my emotions, in the privacy of my dark bedroom, I had no desire to. The incident clouded my thoughts, but I had no emotion for it. And have not in the days since. I have compassion, but no emotion.
Makes you wonder if Law Enforcement alters your very personality and emotional makeup?
And in such a short time.
If this is the effect of one year, what happens after 30?
