Tell Us About That Scar

Photo Credit

There's not a cop on the job that, after five years on, doesn't have a scar or two. It's just part of what we do.

I had about two years on when I was sent to a burglary in progress call. O'Neal* answered up as back-up. While enroute, we were updated that the neighbors were now chasing the burglar through the alley. O'Neal beat me to the alley and I was on his heels. We both slammed our squads into park and bolted towards the screaming in the back of one of the yards. O'Neal flew over the fence like a wild gazelle. As I attempted to do the same, he yelled back,

"Be careful, it's double fenced!"

Thanks a lot, I was in midair at the time. I cleared the first fence but came down not onto ground, but a lower lying fence made of chicken wire or barbwire. I felt my leg stick. Subconsciously, I knew it wasn't a good thing, but adrenaline and chaos were reining in my mind at that moment. I unstuck my leg from the fence and continued over it. I ran up to where the neighbors had the burglar pinned down. O'Neal and I cuffed and searched him all while holding off the angry mob of bystanders. We walked the burglar around to O'Neal's squad and got him secured in the back seat. I told O'Neal I would meet him down at HQ after I got my info for the burglary.

Back at HQ, the adrenaline started to wear off and the pain in my leg started to seep in. Once in the report writing room, I found an open computer and grabbed one of the thread bare chairs. I knew it wasn't a good sign when I noticed the bottom of my polyester uniform pants were sticking to my leg. The next sight I saw was a totally red sock that used to be white sticking out of the top of my Rocky boot. And further up my leg, two jagged,bloody puncture wounds.

O'Neal's response, "I told you it was double fenced!"

Thanks alot, buddy! Considering I just had a tetanus shot a month earlier, I just dug out a first aid kit from the squad trunk, wrapped my leg up tight, and hoped I wouldn't be chasing anyone else for the rest of my shift.

Thirteen years later, the scars are barely visible. Do I miss those days? You bet! I enjoy being an investigator now, but I tell ya, those early years in my career were the best!

*Not his real name.

* * * * * * *

Thanks to Mama Kat over at Mama's Losin' It for her Writer's Workshop. This true story is based on her #3 prompt: "Tell us about that scar."