The House on The Hill.
Posted: Sat Dec 23, 2006 4:21 pm
Greetin's From Maine
Howdy again everybody, most of yall know me by now. Well, I was sitting here in my study with some egg nog, a warm fire in the fireplace, and my dog by my feet. Its almost Christmas time again, and about this time I can't help but think back to other times, the ones that difine who we are, and what it is we become.
Usually Im a bit more light hearted as most of yall have come to know. Even after that incident up here in Maine. I suppose its always good to keep some humor in your life, but sometimes even I get a little somber this time of year, especially when I think back to that one moment that defined me a man, and started my "new" life.
Alot of you folks have vivid stories of heroics, advenure, wild battles, and secret stuff. Not me, my life was defined one cold December night 2 years ago, with the shot of a gun.
You see, I always wanted to help folks. It was kind of my callin'
in life. I didn't want to be some ridiculous super hero crime fighter type who thought he could take on the world, but helping people is what I wanted to do, just like my dad. He was a decorated police officer with the Bangor PD, even my younger brother Ted became a cop.
I guess it runs in the family. I signed up at the academy after high school, did my time, and before I knew it I was out on the streets making a difference.
I know that Bangor isn't New York, or LA, but it has its problems like any other city. I walked a beat for a few years, got promoted to sgt. and did a little time as a crime scene investigator. I enjoyed all of it, sure there was bad times, but the good I knew I was doing
got me through them.
I was one year away from my ten years, when I decided to spend it back on the streets, training the rookies right out of the acadmy.
It was fun at times, cause I remembered when I got out of the academy how full of piss and vinegar I was. I didn't mind one bit. Heck I needed something to do, I wasn't about to take that coushy lt. position they wanted to stick me with. My place was out there, with the people, helping where I could.
I know what you're all thinking, where's the action, the suspence. Sorry to break it to yal, being a cop is a job like every other job. Its just how you handle it day after day. Thats what happened to my dad. He retired about five years after I joined the force, but it was a good thing. He lost sight of why, and focued more on who. He was always a bit heavy handed at work and a bit of a biggot on top of that. When it came time for him to retire, it was suggested that he just do it quietly (three years ahead of schedule).
Its a shame that my brother Ted is turning out just like him. Guess being a closed minded horse's ass also runs inmy family. Thankfully I take after my mom's side of the family.
Anyway, it was a night in December two years ago, and I was on patrol with a rookie right out the academy. Good enough kid, a bit gung ho, but hell, we all were at one time. We were crusing along when we got the call for a Code 30 (officer needs assistance -emergency)...this was followed by a 10-53. We flipped on the lights and siren and took off.
It was a gang fight that ended n a shooting with three dead and two injured. The first unit to arrived got shot at and the officer needed medical attention. His partner told us that the two gunmen ran off down the street and down an ally toward the train yard. Two additional back-up units arrived as me and my partner took off on foot. Our back up arrested the other gan members, as we persued the other two perps on foot. We chased them down like a couple of coon hounds hot on their trail. We caught the first one and my partner began cuffing him as I went after the second one. He I was 1 years away from 10 year, and I was chasing some pistol packin' gang banger through dark allies in the middle of night. What a way to have my career, not to mention my life, end.
I finally caught up to the second perp when he ran dow a dead end.
For a second I though he'd just give up, but he turned around, pulled out a Mac-10 and then the bang....just like that (Bang)...one shot. The guy dropped in the snow and never even had a chance to pull the trigger. I was standing thee with my pistol drawn, smoke still billowing up from the barrel. I fired once, just once. That was the first and time I had drawn my gun to kill another human being. I stood there in the cold night air, for a few more moments, letting it all sink in, before checking on him. I knew the perp was dead the moment I head the splat sound. I could tell by the watermelon pift it made that it was a clean head shot. When I rolled him over, I saw I was right. Just off center, above the right eye.
Heres the kicke though that makes a man stop and think. It was a kid no more than 14 or 15, and there he was lying dead in the snow because of a stupid decision. The kid had his whole life in front of him, and I ended it with a single shot.
Of course back up arrived, the press, the whole nine yards. Hell its was even on the news for a few nights in stories about police brutality, trigger happy cops, and gerupting gand violence in our cities. Of course ther wasn't much to tell after that. I did my job and that was that. IA studied the circumstance and no charges were brought up. I even got a citation for bravery in the line of duty.
But it didn't end there. Of course regardless of the facts, people were outraged, others were outraged
at those folks getting outraged.
It all boiled up and over, then fizzled out after two weeks. I stayed on with a desk job, my own choice.
I guess I just needed some time. I kept thinking about that kid and why he would do it, but I knew that it was him or me. I wasn't deranged over it, I still sleep at night and I got on with my life. But seeing how it effected others is what got to me. Especially my dad and brother. Hearing my dad say that the little bastard (I'ld rather not reapeat his exact words here) desrved it and one less of "them" out there I should have gotten a medal. My brother started taliking the same way and how he might go out and bag himself of couple too.
That was the first time I ever got up and walked out on Christmas dinner. It eventually came down to a yelling match at my folk's house, and I left. I left the force, my appartment, my entire life behind in Bangor and moved up here. To a better life and a much better place. Three months later I got a card from my mother telling me that Ted was discharged for excessive force and police brutality. Guess it does run in the family afterall.
He's a security guard at some mall now.
I sent a Christmas card to that kids's family this year, just like I did last year. I don't if they ever even read them, but at least I made my peace two years ago, and Im a better man for it now. Why though did I post this story as House on The Hill, because my thats where I was raised, thats where my folks and brother reside. And I hope one day, that they too may be able to move out.
So my story here to yall is this, sometimes it isn't the demons that stalk the streets or lurk in the shadows that you have to defeat that defines who we are, sometimes its the ones much closer to home and in ourselves that we have to face that makes us stronger because of it.
Merry Christmas everybody...
Howdy again everybody, most of yall know me by now. Well, I was sitting here in my study with some egg nog, a warm fire in the fireplace, and my dog by my feet. Its almost Christmas time again, and about this time I can't help but think back to other times, the ones that difine who we are, and what it is we become.
Usually Im a bit more light hearted as most of yall have come to know. Even after that incident up here in Maine. I suppose its always good to keep some humor in your life, but sometimes even I get a little somber this time of year, especially when I think back to that one moment that defined me a man, and started my "new" life.
Alot of you folks have vivid stories of heroics, advenure, wild battles, and secret stuff. Not me, my life was defined one cold December night 2 years ago, with the shot of a gun.
You see, I always wanted to help folks. It was kind of my callin'
in life. I didn't want to be some ridiculous super hero crime fighter type who thought he could take on the world, but helping people is what I wanted to do, just like my dad. He was a decorated police officer with the Bangor PD, even my younger brother Ted became a cop.
I guess it runs in the family. I signed up at the academy after high school, did my time, and before I knew it I was out on the streets making a difference.
I know that Bangor isn't New York, or LA, but it has its problems like any other city. I walked a beat for a few years, got promoted to sgt. and did a little time as a crime scene investigator. I enjoyed all of it, sure there was bad times, but the good I knew I was doing
got me through them.
I was one year away from my ten years, when I decided to spend it back on the streets, training the rookies right out of the acadmy.
It was fun at times, cause I remembered when I got out of the academy how full of piss and vinegar I was. I didn't mind one bit. Heck I needed something to do, I wasn't about to take that coushy lt. position they wanted to stick me with. My place was out there, with the people, helping where I could.
I know what you're all thinking, where's the action, the suspence. Sorry to break it to yal, being a cop is a job like every other job. Its just how you handle it day after day. Thats what happened to my dad. He retired about five years after I joined the force, but it was a good thing. He lost sight of why, and focued more on who. He was always a bit heavy handed at work and a bit of a biggot on top of that. When it came time for him to retire, it was suggested that he just do it quietly (three years ahead of schedule).
Its a shame that my brother Ted is turning out just like him. Guess being a closed minded horse's ass also runs inmy family. Thankfully I take after my mom's side of the family.
Anyway, it was a night in December two years ago, and I was on patrol with a rookie right out the academy. Good enough kid, a bit gung ho, but hell, we all were at one time. We were crusing along when we got the call for a Code 30 (officer needs assistance -emergency)...this was followed by a 10-53. We flipped on the lights and siren and took off.
It was a gang fight that ended n a shooting with three dead and two injured. The first unit to arrived got shot at and the officer needed medical attention. His partner told us that the two gunmen ran off down the street and down an ally toward the train yard. Two additional back-up units arrived as me and my partner took off on foot. Our back up arrested the other gan members, as we persued the other two perps on foot. We chased them down like a couple of coon hounds hot on their trail. We caught the first one and my partner began cuffing him as I went after the second one. He I was 1 years away from 10 year, and I was chasing some pistol packin' gang banger through dark allies in the middle of night. What a way to have my career, not to mention my life, end.
I finally caught up to the second perp when he ran dow a dead end.
For a second I though he'd just give up, but he turned around, pulled out a Mac-10 and then the bang....just like that (Bang)...one shot. The guy dropped in the snow and never even had a chance to pull the trigger. I was standing thee with my pistol drawn, smoke still billowing up from the barrel. I fired once, just once. That was the first and time I had drawn my gun to kill another human being. I stood there in the cold night air, for a few more moments, letting it all sink in, before checking on him. I knew the perp was dead the moment I head the splat sound. I could tell by the watermelon pift it made that it was a clean head shot. When I rolled him over, I saw I was right. Just off center, above the right eye.
Heres the kicke though that makes a man stop and think. It was a kid no more than 14 or 15, and there he was lying dead in the snow because of a stupid decision. The kid had his whole life in front of him, and I ended it with a single shot.
Of course back up arrived, the press, the whole nine yards. Hell its was even on the news for a few nights in stories about police brutality, trigger happy cops, and gerupting gand violence in our cities. Of course ther wasn't much to tell after that. I did my job and that was that. IA studied the circumstance and no charges were brought up. I even got a citation for bravery in the line of duty.
But it didn't end there. Of course regardless of the facts, people were outraged, others were outraged
at those folks getting outraged.
It all boiled up and over, then fizzled out after two weeks. I stayed on with a desk job, my own choice.
I guess I just needed some time. I kept thinking about that kid and why he would do it, but I knew that it was him or me. I wasn't deranged over it, I still sleep at night and I got on with my life. But seeing how it effected others is what got to me. Especially my dad and brother. Hearing my dad say that the little bastard (I'ld rather not reapeat his exact words here) desrved it and one less of "them" out there I should have gotten a medal. My brother started taliking the same way and how he might go out and bag himself of couple too.
That was the first time I ever got up and walked out on Christmas dinner. It eventually came down to a yelling match at my folk's house, and I left. I left the force, my appartment, my entire life behind in Bangor and moved up here. To a better life and a much better place. Three months later I got a card from my mother telling me that Ted was discharged for excessive force and police brutality. Guess it does run in the family afterall.
He's a security guard at some mall now.
I sent a Christmas card to that kids's family this year, just like I did last year. I don't if they ever even read them, but at least I made my peace two years ago, and Im a better man for it now. Why though did I post this story as House on The Hill, because my thats where I was raised, thats where my folks and brother reside. And I hope one day, that they too may be able to move out.
So my story here to yall is this, sometimes it isn't the demons that stalk the streets or lurk in the shadows that you have to defeat that defines who we are, sometimes its the ones much closer to home and in ourselves that we have to face that makes us stronger because of it.
Merry Christmas everybody...
