19 July 2009-19 July 2022 (13th year anniversary of my fatal OIS)

First of all, I’m not looking for a pity party where I sit at the head of the table. I don’t need “are you okays?”

I don’t need anybody to feel sorry for me. I “Really” don’t need any unlearned jackasses to tell me to get over it, or move past it and get on with my life (so far, for me, not possible)

I’ll use this as a teachable moment. For cops, young and old, because you are all one “New York” trigger pull (12lbs) away from dealing with the same shit.

Thirteen years is a long time to carry heavy shit. It’s on a continuous loop. I replay the killing of a bad guy every. Blessed. Day. I relive it multiple times a day. There are too many triggers to avoid ( 4th of July , the week prior and week after, where the pyromaniacs continued to blow shit up near my house were a particular hoot)

I’ve attached the audio to this post ( I’m not sure if it will work on the column. If it doesn’t, visit my Facebook page and you can find it) …sorry I couldn’t post the audio folks

It should run real time. I’ve gone over the recording many, many times and from the time of the call to the time I called out shots fired is about 2 minutes 22 seconds. From the time I go 23 (on scene) to broadcasting “shots fired” is a little shy of ten seconds.

That’s not much time to get ready, get there, have someone actively try to kill you (OODA loop), outdraw them and you kill them first (technically, it took him a few minutes to bleed out enough to silence his screams and curses) get him handcuffed, call an ambulance, and keep watch over an active home invasion robbery, interrupting an attempted assassination of two occupants of a mistaken drug house while not knowing there were additional armed bandits in the house who abandoned their blanket covered would-be victims and not executing them (because the cops showed up).

I still hear the bad guy’s spirit leaving his body. I could no nothing for him but pray that he passed quickly and had a chance to make peace with his maker.

I can still smell the gunpowder, still see the muzzle flashes. I can remember everything about that night, the darkness, the heat and humidity. And yes, I can still smell his blood (we were that close).

Sounds haunting? I wouldn’t do one thing different except have a camera crew with me because it would have been a great training aid. None of that haunts me really (although I think about it a lot… maybe it does haunt me), but the tidal wave of bullshit that would soon wash over me, with every boss and white shirt that showed up on the scene.

The armchair quarterbacking was laughable (from guys who had done nothing extraordinary in their careers)

The preliminary “It appears to be a legitimate shoot,” said a white shirt on the phone to a turd of a politician , too lazy to get his ass out of bed to see for himself. Does that haunt me? Yes! Daily!

The violation of my civil rights and the rights of two other officers, by bosses whom I would label as idiots (and that’s not fair to real idiots).

Word to the wise: keep your mouth shut. As soon as they start questioning one thing you had to do to stay alive…stop! Hire a lawyer. A good one. Every major city has a lawyer who is “That guy”, so yes, hire “That guy!”

Do not enlist the help of an FOP attorney (change my mind) Here in the Midwest I found them to be no more than toothless dogs. If you do, and the pendulum swings in the direction of you being a bad guy, you might find yourself on the inside of a prison cell (especially in the current anti-police climate).

“Keep your mouth shut !“

It took nearly ten years to face off in court to argue my department “separating” from me citing “inability to do the job.” All because I had a prick of a boss taking jabs and me and he was allowed to do so untethered.

I asked for reasonable accommodations as I needed some time to decompress and needed some help to deal with the weight I was carrying. I was told that light duty did not exist. And that was that. The trial was a three-ring circus loaded with rats (including my own attorney). I’m sure the judge was a rat too (or just too stupid to ride the bench).

The city found out that I had an implanted cardiac defibrillator/ pacemaker in my chest and instead of being glad at the way I performed my job with it on board, they acted as though it was a hindrance and/or a liability (it was neither)

I was eviscerated in front of my family and a few friends. The only cops from my department in the courtroom were there under subpoena (had they made an appearance, there would have been Hell to pay! The lies they told haunt me like a rotten ghost! And I mean every. Night!

The jury was bamboozled and lied to. Scenarios surrounding the end of my career, visit me every night and I can’t do shit about it! Meds don’t turn it off! So, I cope. I deal with it.

I don’t drink. I don’t do illegal drugs. I don’t over medicate!

I wake up and it’s “Well, I’m still alive, better get up and get after it!”

So I take what happened to me and share it with recruits (or anybody who cares to listen)

The point is, I am still alive. I have purpose. I have value. I have honor and integrity and those are qualities and blessings that cannot be taken from me. I am fearless. I am still deadly if need be. And, I’m not afraid of death.

If I can stay alive, so can you. If I can stop one more cop from serving himself or herself a last meal of a gun barrel sautéed in Hoppe’s No. 9, I’ll keep doing it. I ain’t gonna kill myself!

Right now, I have bandaids on eight of my ten fingers. The PTS has me tearing at the skin around my nails until blood runs down my fingers and hands. Oddly, the pain reminds me that I’m alive.

And, 19 July draws closer, I really feel alive.

You will have haters if you do your job and do it well. If you’ve done your job, “Fuck em”

If you’re struggling, reach out to someone. I’m easy to find. Call me 314-302-0511. I’m just a guy, but I’ll help you if I can.

Stay safe!

Kirk