with the training. By the end of the academy I was easily able
to defend myself, my coworkers and the general public.
Classroom studies, which included learning how to enforce
laws, write reports and make a case against a defendant, were
as grueling as the physical fitness and by the day’s end my
brain was as exhausted as my body.
It was finally time to visit the shooting range. I was terrified
by my lack of knowledge about guns in general. As my
instructor gave me a handgun I was suddenly struck with the
overpowering realization that I may someday have to draw
and fire my gun on a suspect. How would I feel, could I really
shoot a person who was breaking the law? I was immediately
filled with conviction that if needed, I could and would defend
the innocent against any and all harm no matter what.
Shooting came easily to me and I loved the power I felt
holding my gun. It did seem a little ironic to me that although
I was able to purchase my duty weapon and protect the public
I was not old enough to buy ammunition. My father stepped up
to the task and always went with me to buy my bullets.
Twenty weeks flew by and I was graduating with forty-two
of my fellow classmates. As I stepped up to the stage for the
handing off of my papers I was surprised to find out that I had