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The first time I stood at attention in formation at the Police Academy in my neatly pressed uniform I was determined to make a difference while confronting the criminal element.
The first time I went into service during my FTO phase of training with a loaded firearm I was keenly aware of the responsibility that I carried as a police officer.
The first time I placed my handcuffs on a suspect as I took him into custody, I was in awe of the exceptional authority placed in me by society.
The first time a suspect bolted from me on foot I was naively stunned that people really run and fight with police since that was not the way I was raised.
The first time I went to an off-duty party as a new cop with a bunch of non-law enforcement friends, and had to hear about everyone’s latest speeding ticket, I quickly learned how our institutional reputation is banded together by every LEO contact.
The first time I was involved in a vehicle pursuit I couldn’t believe I was getting paid for being a cop.
The first time I was named as a defendant in a lawsuit they couldn’t pay me enough.
The first time I was present at a homicide scene I nearly puked due to the horrible odor, but I managed to keep it together and the smell of death eventually became part of the job.
The first time I attended a funeral for a fellow police officer I was amazed at the reverence and respect offered by thousands of cops, most of whom didn’t personally know the brother who laid down his life for his community.
The first time I looped my detective badge onto my belt next to my weapon I vowed to work tirelessly on behalf of crime victims who had their lives upended by evildoers.
The fist time I worked a child-homicide made me nauseated. After being on duty for 24 hours I drove home with a sense of urgency and removed my own baby girl from her crib and walked around the house with her cradled in my arms, telling my newborn daughter, “Nothing like that will ever happen to you.”
The first (and only) time I had to notify a police-spouse that her husband had died made me feel like the Grim Reaper.
The first time I had an award medal draped around my neck came with a feeling of irony since I received the recognition for fighting to survive, something that didn’t seem all that remarkable.
The first time I took a step into retirement, I looked at my family and had a tear or two in my eyes at the overwhelming joy of having them by my side.
The first time I sat alone in my office at home and truly reflected on all the bitter heartaches that police officers experience during a career, I couldn’t be more thankful for the men and women in uniform who continue to carry the torch and fight the good fight against incredible obstacles.
– Jim McNeff
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