Thoughts of a Retired Police Officer

By Richard Hannibal, Retired Police Sergeant

I begin with a quote I heard recently, "Cops wake up every morning different than the rest of us. Our worst nightmare is their Wednesday."

Unlike many of my brother and sister police officers, I have come out of a 30-year police career relatively unscathed. However, many retired officers are not so fortunate. Like military veterans, they suffer the ravages of war, especially those who policed larger urban areas.

Unlike a soldier, cops come and go from the war-zone on a daily basis. They leave the comfort and security of a loving home and are suddenly immersed in a hostile, threatening environment. If they survive their shift, they return to loving friends and family. However, there is always a remnant of their experience that tags along with them and joins the cumulative effect.

This constant juxtaposition takes its toll. By the time cops retire, they have many demons nipping at their heals and dragons left to slay. I often think there should be a national "Veteran's" type day to commemorate all of society's First Responders, not just police officers. However, like Veteran's Day, it would probably just end up as another day of special sales promotions at local chain stores.

Police retirement brings with it a growing league of troubled souls, all seeking to reaffirm their purpose, and wonder if they really made a difference. Particularly disappointing is the apathy of the existing police "fraternity" to the plight of the retiree as he or she searches for lost camaraderie and belonging.

I understand. I clearly remember being a young cop and into immediate gratification. Retirement was a thousand years away. Most cops have tremendous identity with the public's sacred trust. However, in retirement, they tread the waters of life, desperately seeking the life raft of meaning and challenge that police work once gave them. Some, unfortunately, give up and take life's "emergency exit."

Many retired police officers go to bed each night with a sea of faces staring down at them. They arrive in dreams, the result of a long police career. Some of the faces smile — some cry. Some appear from the distant past when he or she assured a dying victim that everything would be all right just before they took their final breath. Some of the faces rage with anger and some whimper with defeat. Cops see them all, and they haunt them far into retirement.

Every cop has had partners that they shared every emotion with — tears, laughter, excitement, boredom, tragedy, and injustice. Even in retirement, the memories remain by their side. Some retired cops have lost dear partners — killed in the line of duty. They have passed on, but are still remembered as they once were, full of energy, enthusiasm, and hope. Then there are officers who were involved in fatal shootings or pursuits and forever lost their innocence. Alcohol and drugs are their crutches.

Cops see life from a very different perspective. Some have seen life begin in the beam of a flashlight, as a milky white head emerges, and eyes squint in reaction to a new environment. Some have seen life end through the smoke and flame of their service pistol. Cops hug mothers as they tearfully tell them their child will not be coming home — not ever. And, most have held the hands of victims as life slowly drains from their bodies.

Cops fight a thousand fights, physical and emotional, trying to see some glimmer of justice, and, often to their surprise, seeing it. They feel the joy of helping an old woman back to her feet and a terrified motorist on a desolate highway to a service station. Most police retirees know their life had the meaning and purpose only police service can provide. However, many cling to fond memories while fighting dragons from the past.

Cops, present and retired, will not admit it, but they don't do the job alone. There are the faces of police dispatchers. They hear the calls, "officer down," "roll me a backup code-3," "the child isn't breathing," or "this is a multi-fatal accident." They are the guardian angels that hear an officer's scream for help and send gladiators, with carburetors sucking air, sirens screaming, and tires smoking. Cops, dispatchers, and support people are all part of a team that gives society a chance to breathe and grow.

Police officers are not the only victims of urban warfare. There are the spouses, life partners, and loved ones, many of whom are almost killed in the line of duty emotionally. They experienced the daily trauma of watching police work take its toll on the person, family, and relationship. Through strength and determination, with little help from the police fraternity, they maintain the will to live, nurture, and inspire the next generation of spouses, life-partners, and loved ones.

Retirees have good memories of camaraderie, breaking graveyard monotony by chasing possums down alleys, or road racing on the curving roads of nearby hills. There are the bad memories of just clearing a fatal accident and are immediately submerged in the emotions of rolling to another. There is the "yahoo" of a exciting pursuit, and the confusion of feeling good after surviving a shooting. And, there are memories of the dreaded dispatch, "respond to the Watch Commander's office," writing paper, and the "oh shit, how am I gonna get outa of this one."

Again, come the faces, rushing before the retiree's eyes — never ending. The thousands of snarling, calm, happy, sad, energetic, lifeless faces that make up the memories of a cop's career. These faces don't really go away, but hover in that dark place where they try to hide.

I had a buddy who told me about a reoccurring dream he had. He loved his job. In his dream, he would make one last round of the streets at the end of his shift. He hoped for one last "rush" before ending the watch. In his dream, he reluctantly turned towards the station. He slowly pulled into the parking lot, not wanting the night to end, and suddenly woke up, realizing it is 2013, and he had been retired for ten years.