Editor’s Note: This week’s essay comes from Anonymous. As a rule, I never post anything to PoliceOne under such a byline, and I never accept contributions from anonymous sources, but in this case I personally know this individual (and consider him a friend) and can personally vouch for his LE status. In fact, I can share also that he is a regular PoliceOne Contributor. However, because of the sensitivity of the subject about which he writes today, I will allow him to remain anonymous here. 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 Anonymous
Police1 Contributor
Friday night always ended the same way. I always dreaded getting of the school bus on Friday afternoon. Friday night was “Family Night” in our house, where we would eat frozen pizza and gather around to play a nice family game of Monopoly.
When my father’s monopoly move didn’t end up the way he wanted, a psychotic rage would ensue. The monopoly board would be thrown across the living room, and my helpless mother would be pinned in the corner of the room, the recipient of repeated blows to the head by my “God Fearing” father.
When my poor innocent sister would scream out for him to stop beating our mother, he would commence to beating her next. All of this would be followed up just two days later, as we’d sit listening to him pound the pulpit of “his” church, telling his congregation that they would be burning in Hell if they were homosexual, or if they didn’t give up the alcohol and cigarettes.
Ah, but one day, I grew up and got the hell out of that house. The destructive behavior of one man fueled the desire to help innocent victims in now what was also a grown man, and that is why I became a cop.
Have you ever stopped to think about what burned inside of you that made you decide to pin on that badge? I bet if you dig deep down you will find the reason — that is, if you don’t already know.
I’ve heard other cops say, after responding to a bad call of domestic violence, “I just don’t understand why these people don’t call 911.”
Well, I do understand. Often, as the case was when I was growing up, “calling the cops” just isn’t even an option. The beating would be harder if that were to occur, so out of fear you just take the beating and move on.
Funny thing is, once someone is removed from those abusive situations they learn that they aren’t (and didn’t have to be) victims anymore.
I’ll never forget the first time I dropped by my parents house to say hello after I had been sworn in. As I walked through the front door I was met by my mother, wearing a cast on her recently-broken arm.
All the anger of 21 years came to a head. I wasn’t afraid anymore, and now I had the power to put this coward where he needed to be. I drove my mother to the local police department and she gave a statement, and a warrant was promptly issued for that spineless fool.
But I had a few things to say to him. I called him on the phone and told him his cowardly behavior was over, and that, if he was lucky, the local cops would get to him before I did.
For the first time in my life I was empowered, and I could hear the fear in his voice.
Long story short, he was stopped on traffic violation that night and arrested for his outstanding family violence warrant. The arresting officers told me he cried like a little baby when they slapped the cuffs on him and hauled him off to the county lockup.
From that moment on, I knew pinning this badge on would allow me to help victims of senseless abusive crimes.
You don’t have to feel sorry for yourself or think you aren’t “tough” if you look back and recognize what motivated you to wear the blue. Your experiences, whether good or bad, molded you to become a crime fighter. Turn those negatives into positives — you may just save a life.
