Is it ever worth it?

"Gimme two packs of Marlboro Reds and a pack of stunners." The clerk turned to get what I asked for when someone behind me reached around and grabbed my wallet from my hand and took off running out of the store. I gave chase. That was a mighty fine wallet. It didn't have much cash in it but it did have my Detective Sergeant badge in it and I worked damn hard for that badge. The suspect got the leap on me. He was fast but I was able to keep pace. I followed him for about a quarter of a mile and watched him run into the front door of a duplex and slam the door behind him. Now, this just got even more serious. I ran up to the same door but it was now closed and locked. I knocked. No answer. I knocked again. Still no answer. A lady was outside across the street and I yelled for her to call the police, to tell them an officer needed assistance. In a few minutes, several units arrived. I knocked a third time and a woman answered the door. She claimed she had been sleeping. She said she lived alone. She said no one other than her was inside. She didn't believe me and refused to let us come in and search, then she heard a noise and invited us in. We searched both upstairs and downstairs and found nothing. There was no one inside that duplex.

All of the officers except me, a training officer, and his rookie cleared the scene. We stood at his car discussing what had happened and how I didn't look forward to telling the Captain I had lost a badge. The rookie asked why didn't we search the other side of the duplex and it was a eureka moment. Maybe the thief had entered the first apartment and managed somehow to access the other side before we searched. Jay, the training officer knocked on the second door and it was opened immediately. A second woman answered the door and before we could tell her what we were looking for, she volunteered her brother wasn't home. Jay motioned for her to step outside and she complied. The three of us stepped inside quietly and began a room-to-room search. Again, nothing. Jay said, "I'm going next door again. I'm gonna climb up in the attic and see what I can see." That left me and the rookie standing in the upstairs bedroom. I pointed at the closet and asked him to check it.

The rookie had been on the job for maybe 3 weeks. He was a clean-cut kid right out of college. I could tell he didn't have much in the way of street smarts yet, but given time, he might make a good patrol officer. The rookie checked the closet and turned back to face me. He said, "Sgt. it's all clear. I don't think the guy is here." Those were the last words he ever said. There was a sudden crash and a loud thud. The thief we were looking for fell from the ceiling just above where the rookie was standing. Jay must have spooked him causing him to fall through the thin sheetrock and onto the rookie. It was over in a split second. The fall broke the rookie's neck. In a split second, the thief was on his knees grabbing for the rookie's gun. I jumped on his back and the fight was on. If you've never wrestled with a man who's just killed a cop and is trying to escape, then you don't truly know what you are capable of. This guy was strong. He wasn't wearing a shirt or if he was, it was one of those wife-beater tanks. He stunk from being in the attic and he was covered in sweat and fiberglass. My goal, if I had one at the time, was to prevent him from gaining control of the handgun. My secondary goal was to keep him from escaping again. My only hope was Jay would hear us and join in the fray. This guy was physically bigger than me and he was stronger. If I could get my arms around his neck I might be able to choke him out but that was a big "if". I was faster than him. I sandwiched my way onto his back and then I went limp. I had been taught deadweight made it more difficult for an adversary to move. That might be true if the guy wasn't Hulk. This guy tossed me around like I was a bad sweater. I tried a few pressure points called triggers to see if they would work. They teach you a quick knuckle strike to the mandibular angle of the jaw can cause excruciating pain. I think that only applies to trainees in the academy because this guy shrugged it off like it didn't bother him. I had both of my legs wrapped around this guy's waist and both of my arms and hands were focused on preventing him from removing the rookie's handgun from his holster. He was using his left hand to repeatedly punch me in the face while continuing to jerk on the gun. I was in a very bad place. If I released my grip on his arm even for a second, he would get control of a .40 caliber Glock. I would have less time to reach for and draw my own weapon and bring it on target. The chance of me beating him to the shot wasn't good. I also didn't think I could survive too many more punches to my face. I was losing this fight.

"Bam...bam bam bam." I let go with both hands and fell to the floor. My ears were ringing from the shots. I was numb from the adrenaline and I was weak. I was losing consciousness, but not before I heard the thief fall to the floor. From my position, I was looking up and through the hole in the ceiling, I saw a lot of smoke. I also saw Jay's face and the barrel of his gun. Jay had shot the thief four times. I closed my eyes. I heard another loud noise and saw Jay dropping from the ceiling to the floor beside us. He kicked the thief to make sure he was dead and I sat up and rolled him off of me and the rookie. Jay said, "I thought I might have shot you too." I replied, "I'm good. I almost got my ass whipped bad, but I'm ok." Jay bent down to check the rookie and I shook my head. I said, "He's gone, Jay. The asshole fell on him and broke his neck." I stood up and we pulled the dead thief off of our fellow officer. In his hand was the rookie's Glock. I wretched. I vomited everywhere. This wasn't my first rodeo. This wasn't my first fight or my first shooting. I had been on the job for 15 years.

Jay asked me if I was okay. I was sick to the point I couldn't answer. I felt like I was gonna cough up my insides. Then Jay started coughing too. He grabbed me by the waist and helped me to my feet and we stumbled downstairs and outside. I fell to the ground on my hands and knees still vomiting. Both ladies came over to see if they could help me but Jay waived them off. He got on his radio and called for assistance. "Base, we have an officer down and another sick." Send units and send paramedics. Send the Sgt." I could hear the sirens turn on from different directions. That was the last thing I heard before I passed out. A few days later I awakened in the hospital. Jay was sitting there along with a few other officers. The guy who stole my wallet was out of the penitentiary on parole for armed robbery and aggravated assault. He had been storing chemicals used to make meth in the attic of his sister's home and the containers had broken when he crashed through the ceiling. He was dead. The rookie was dead. Jay was on suspension pending an investigation. I was in the hospital with lung damage from inhaling the chemicals. The only good thing about this was I retrieved my wallet and badge. The Chief walked in unexpectedly and saw I was awake. After exchanging pleasantries with everyone, he asked me if I was okay and if I needed anything. I shook my head no. He smiled and looking at everyone said, "At least we got a really bad dude off the street." I thought about that long after the Chief left.

A few days after I was released from the hospital, I made the trip to the department. I went to my office and sat at my desk for a while, said hello to everyone, and then made up my mind. I walked over to the Chief's office and knocked on his door and asked if he had a moment to visit. He motioned me inside and stood and closed the door behind me. I sat down in front of his desk and waited for him to take his seat again. We sat there looking at each other for what seemed like an eternity and I finally reached into my pocket and removed my wallet, placed it on his desk, and slid it towards him. The Chief stared at it then said, before you say anything, let me say this. Yes, it's worth it. The job we do every day is worth the loss and pain we suffer. We owe it to the officers who don't get to go home because some drug-addled convict decides to fall on his head and break his neck. If we don't this job, they win and that's not acceptable. The Chief leaned forward and pushed my wallet back towards me. I stood up and picked up my wallet. The Chief continued, "You aren't expected to deal with this alone. We will provide you the support you need to deal with this trauma and I expect you to use this support. Do you understand Sergeant?" I nodded and left.

True to his word, I received top-notch care and access to resources and support to help me "deal". The problem is you never fully "deal" with these sorts of things. You only learn to live with them. So the next time you see that officer on a traffic stop or on a call for service, remember, you have no way of knowing what they are "dealing" with. They typically only see people at their worst. That traffic officer that stopped you for speeding, may have also worked a fatality accident only a few hours earlier where speed was a factor. The officer responding to a domestic disturbance may have answered numerous other domestics where the offender nearly killed the victims. These incidents have a way of building upon an officer's consciousness over time. I'm not suggesting anyone cut an officer some slack. They are and should be held to a high standard. However, do have a little empathy and more importantly, try not to make their jobs more difficult than they already are.