My Own Kingda Ka

According to the planet's foremost source of information, Wikipedia, the Kingda Ka roller coaster at the Six Flag's Great Adventure in New Jersey is reportedly the world's tallest roller coaster and its second fastest. The Kingda Ka is 456 feet tall, that's over 45 stories, with a top speed of 128 MPH, which is achieved in 3.5 seconds.  The entire ride lasts only 28 seconds.  That's insane.  And anyone who dares to ride that thing, for the brief 28 seconds or not of sheer hell, is nuts.  Take note, I think it goes without saying that I have no plans to ride that monster or any roller coaster for that matter...cuz I'd be this guy...

There's your fair warning.  Heed it or don't, but I do not do roller coasters very well, at an adventure park or in life.  I don't know anybody that really does.  But I'm sure there are...there's somebody for just about anything out there.

This last month or so for me has been my own roller coaster.  And there have been moments of sheer terror, of joy and, of sorrow.

I went out for the evening and to dinner one night.  By the end of it, a fellow officer from my department would be dead.  It was not a line of duty death and, sadly, it was expected.  It just wasn't expected to be on that day.  He and his family, his wife and daughter, had made plans to have a special daddy-daughter day at a city park.  He had stage 4 brain cancer and he knew he was going to die.  So, they set up this event to have one more lasting memory for his daughter.  She got a wedding dress knowing that he wouldn't be there to walk her down the isle when that time came.  Working the midnight shift, I wasn't there.  I saw the photographs later.  They were beautiful.  She was stunning.  As they were involved in this memorable occasion, my brother in blue would take his last breath right then and there.  How emotionally bittersweet.

He was laid to rest a week later.  As a member of the Honor Guard, I was privileged to be a part of this final farewell.  I served as one of the many casket guards during the viewing, standing right next to him as he laid there in his Class A uniform.  But it wasn't until the very end of the service, when family, friends, and other loved ones were making their way out and saying their last good byes and condolences to the family when it hit me.  I walked up to the edge of casket, came to attention, and rendered my own final salute.  And I looked down and saw him.  Saw him as the husband that he was...and the father, the brother, the son, and the friend.  It struck me like a ton of bricks.  Just out of nowhere.  I felt a tear roll down my cheek.  In an effort to maintain that proverbial "be strong for the family" mindset, I knew I had to end the moment.  I slowly dropped my salute and turned to his wife and daughter, telling them how sorry I was for their loss and how much he loved them both.  The next day, he was buried in Crownville Veterans Cemetery.

During this time, I was still making final preparations for the family of one of the officers, Lieutenant Thomas Forbes, whom I was going to be riding for in the Police Unity Tour.  An interview of one of the officer's daughters, Lauren, struck a chord with me.  So, I tracked her down and reached out to her.  Her father, a police officer for nearly 31 years, had committed suicide and now she was speaking out about it and mental wellness within the law enforcement community.  After I told her that I would be riding in the Police Unity Tour to honor her father, she spoke with her mother and sister.  They agreed that they would make the trip to our nation's capitol to be there when I, and the rest of the almost 2,000 members of the Tour, would arrive at the National Law Enforcement Officers Memorial.  I was so incredibly moved that they would make that journey, that I promised to cover their travel expenses.  But, as roller coasters go with their extreme ups and downs, my vision of riding onto the hallowed grounds of the Memorial came crashing, literally crashing, to an end less than a week before the start of the Tour.  I got into a bad wreck on my final training ride which put me out of the event.

Yet, this venture was never about me.  It was always about the family and their husband and father.  So, when they landed at Reagan-National Airport, I was at least their to meet them...finally.  I was humbled and honored.  My bad luck, though, didn't stop the Forbes' family and they continued with their pilgrimage.  As I talked to each one of the briefly while we made our way back to Reagan-National towards their respective departure flights, they all said that the trip had been a part of their much larger journey of healing.  Later, when one of them posted a photograph on Facebook that showed Lieutenant Forbes' picture deservedly taped to the Wall, like so many others who sacrificed, I was brought to tears.

On the day of the Tour's arrival, I had surgery on my left hand.  My gun hand.  I sustained a pretty significant injury to it in my bike wreck the week before.  As I took inventory of all of my injuries, I realized that my career hung in the balance of the success of this surgery, my healing from it, and then my yet-to-occur therapy and recovery.  The surgeon and the PA from the orthopaedic office all said "the surgery was textbook" and "it looks good", but there are no guarantees in life.  And certainly not with an offense to my aging body such as this.  Policing is a young man's game.  Sure, experience is crucial, but the bottom line is, if things go south, like they can in the blink of an eye, you gotta be, not only able to go from zero to a hundred in a nanosecond, but then finish the fight.  That takes strength and stamina.  I'm not saying I'm not strong or fit for my age (and size), but, let's face it, I'm dealing with shitheads half my age.  So, the question is then...am I strong and fit for their age?  When I lay down to go to bed at night to try and get some sleep with the wounds, bruises, aches, and pains that my body feels right now...I'm not so sure.

And that's the physical side of it all.  My mind is on its own Kingda Ka.  Maybe this is the life of a police officer.  Like I've mentioned before, politicians and media have been raking our asses over the coals for a while now.  It's no bullshit that that kind of stuff works over our emotions as well.  As a member of my county police's peer support team, we had been asked to respond to Baltimore to talk to those men and women in blue up there.  There's bound to be emotional and mental fallout from that.  Its been rough.  This up and down and up and down shit wears me out.  So, I dunno, is this the life of a police officer...?

Or is it just mine?

Suffering is Valor's Dark Shadow

In Valor There is Hope.  Those words were first said by the one of the greatest Roman historians, Tacitus. They grace the hallowed walls of the National Law Enforcement Officers Memorial in our nation's capitol.  And they are also tattooed on my right arm to serve as a reminder of those who gave the ultimate sacrifice before me and to honor those who continue to dedicate their very lives...mind, body, and soul...for their communities, their families.

But what is that phrase actually conveying?  What does it mean?  Of course, it varies with each individual.  For me, it means that, in the act or actions of courageousness or strength of character, there is hope for us as individuals and then collectively as a society.  I am inspired by others just like the next person.  And more so when its those who have devoted everything...sometimes literally and tragically everything...for the betterment and protection of the world we live in.  Firefighters, paramedics and EMTs, doctors and nurses, teachers and caretakers, and the like.

And yes, police officers.  Believe it or not.  Its not a secret that we've been getting the shit beat out of us in media outlets this past year, but I'm proud to say that I am part of this elite and devout brotherhood (please, don't take offense my sisters in arms...I'm just trying to keep it simple and maintain proper English to show that I have some level of higher intelligence.  I absolutely include you.).

So, police officers.  Who are these guys?  What are these people?  Who am I?  Lately, we've been monsters.  Murderers, to some, who have been given a badge and a gun and now have a legal avenue to start shooting the shit out of people for no reason.  "Fear for my life".  Pfffft.  Please...how easy of a fall back is that?  Cop out, right?  I read on a Facebook feed that someone (and I'm sure there's many, many more that agree) thinks that shouldn't be a defense for us.  That when we got into the job, we understood that people might be shooting at us or trying to stab us or trying to beat our asses with a bat, crowbar, sword or what the fuck ever tool that's now become a killing device.  Fuck that.  I reread my job description and, although we've had more training and  legal processes added to it, there isn't dick about its OK to try and kill me.

Homicide suspect, who returned to the scene of the crime
where a woman was stabbed to death, confronts police officers.

I am a human being.  I will react when confronted with a threat.  But here's the kicker...I'm a police officer as well. I have no duty to retreat in the face of that threat.  In fact, its my responsibility...my charge...to confront it so that others do not have to.  I got into an argument a couple of months ago with a family member about police shootings and "killings". Their stance, like so many who have no experience or true exposure and, therefore, no real understanding of the responsibilities and training of a police officer, was why can't we shoot to disable or disarm?  OK, beyond not truly understanding it from a law enforcement aspect, there is a lack of comprehension, or perhaps awareness, of the scientific, the physiological, side of how that idea is, well...ludicrous.

During a threatening incident, such as confronting a person with a gun or a knife or a sword or some other deadly weapon, your body...yes, everyone's bodies...goes into an autonomic response.  Its a hyperarousal state commonly known as the "fight or flight" response.  When this happens, the body goes into overdrive and changes occur that are out of anyone's control.  Adrenaline is dumped, blood vessels dilate for increased oxygen flow to the now much needed muscles, vision and auditory exclusions occur,  heart and lung activities increase, and intestinal functions are inhibited.  And my mind is functioning in the limbic part of the brain where emotions take a backseat and instincts kick in.  All of this in an effort for your body to react quickly and instinctually to the threat.   Everyone experiences this response to one degree or another.  Its our bodies.  We cannot debate this.

Now, take the situation at hand...let's say its a fight with a person who is reaching for your gun or who is trying to stab you with a knife.  The conditions are dynamic.  Bodies are moving, including their extremities.  So, when I'm in this life or death struggle, real or perceived after the fact...at that moment, its real to me...when my body is under extreme stress and experiencing all of the physiological responses stated above and extremities, arms and legs, are moving around like crazy, you want me to stop, take aim, and try to hit a small diameter, rapidly moving object?!  Ummm, no.  Completely impractical for the confrontation at hand and the responsibilities I have vowed to uphold.  So, I do what I have to do to survive it.

But what happens afterwards?  That adrenaline has to go somewhere.  Relatively speaking, my body returns to a normal functioning mode.  My heart begins to slow.  I start to breath easier and unhurried.  And, although I'm probably still functioning primarily in the limbic part of my brain, my emotions return.  And that's when it can hit me.

I'm still a human being.  I want to preserve life.  Mine as well as others.  Not only is that innate, but its also a conscious idea for me.  I'm a police officer, a public servant, because I truly want to help people, however that may manifest itself.  (And, however, naïve that sounds, its still true for many of us in this profession.)  That may be taking the life of one in order to protect the many.  But that doesn't mean I won't suffer somehow for it...for that decision and then my subsequent actions.  And no, I'm not at all talking about any legal bullshit that follows, but the suffering I may place upon myself.  That's a heavy fucking burden to bear to decide to take the life of another human being, regardless of their standing in life and how much of a shitbird they may be.  Whatever I do, I do it because I believe in it.  I believe in my virtues and the actions I take to uphold them.  But there will be a reaction for what I do...an emotional reaction that can come unexpectedly once my body returns to a more normal state.

Las Vegas Metro police officers react after two of their own
where assassinated while eating lunch.

Because I'm a compassionate human being as well as being a cop.

Billings (MT) Police Officer Grant Morrison is an excellent example of this.  He performed a traffic stop and confronted a suspected shooting suspect, whom Officer Morrison believed to be armed with a handgun.  After failing to comply with Officer Morrison's repeated orders to keep his hands in plain sight, the suspect moved them out of view.  Officer Morrision, already in his "fight or flight" mode, feared for his life...yes, feared for his life because cops can experience fear...and shot and killed the suspect.  This video shows the reaction that followed once Officer Morrison's body began to "normalize".  He cried.  No shit, right?  A police officer, a figure whom the public regularly treats as feelingless robots, showed emotion and felt a sense of humanity after taking the life of another.

I don't, even in the least, watch this video and then think that Officer Morrison is a pussy for crying.  No, not at all. I think he's human...a courageous man who stood up and committed his mind and body to serving and protecting his community.  I have the outmost respect for Officer Morrison and the deepest of compassions for him.  If it were me instead of him, I'm sure I would have done the same from the intense start to this emotional finish.

And, despite my convictions to the righteousness of valor, there can be a hidden, dark side to it.

Because I'm a human being.