Another me.
Let me tell you a true story.
While in college, one of my friends quit being a chemical engineer and became a biology major. She was in ROTC, and wanted to join the army. Her move away from the CHEG major made me realize that I didn't like it either. I shifted my focus away from traditional engineering, and joined the UD gym. By the time I graduated, I had broken up with Sherry, my girlfriend at the time, but was ready to pursue the career I was really interested in -- law enforcement. Following my dad's suggestion, I moved to a major city and tried out for the police academy. To my surprise, I got in.
At 26, I was a beat cop, and a good one, despite being a rookie. I had learned quickly to follow my hunches and as such had made a couple of surprising, if minor, arrests. My Lieutenant saw me as having definite potential for moving up. Maybe that's why, when a group of homicide detectives needed some backup going after a suspect in a public park-like setting, I was one of the team.
I had my standard-issue firearm, and owned my own gun, which I actually preferred - a .38 revolver. The suspect we were after was reported as being potentially armed, so I had that gun in my hand. The team, led by the two DTs, quietly surrounded the park and we jumped him from all sides. He ran away from me towards one of the other beat cops, who managed to bring him down onto his back. During the struggle, something happened I don't quite remember, but it ended up with the suspect on his back without a cop on top of him as I ran forwards. It was then that the man pointed his own gun, also a revolver at me and fired. I returned fire, and hit him twice. As he lay on his back, I approached him and found his gun empty and his lying still. The rest of the team quickly swarmed in, and the suspect was brought under control. I thought he was dead until he raised his revolver and tried to shoot again. Click. After that, he collapsed.
It was only then that I looked down at myself and realized I was bleeding pretty badly from my upper chest. One of the other cops looked at my back and informed me that there was no exit wound. I could breathe fine and was still standing, so I deduced the bullet had missed anything vital, but I was keenly aware of how close I'd come, and that I was about to go into major surgery to get the bullet out and stop me from bleeding to death.
This me I've described is a real me. For a little over an hour, while sleeping last night, I got to walk in his shoes. I don't know if he's going to pull through the shooting or not. I also don't know how having killed a man is going to affect him later on in life. All I know is that I have an answer to another "what if I'd..." question. The Juan Borla who became a city cop thinks differently, feels differently from me. But he's me, and I could have been him. He finds his life very satisfying, despite not having any romantic interests at the moment. He feels like he's making a difference.
I wish him luck.
While in college, one of my friends quit being a chemical engineer and became a biology major. She was in ROTC, and wanted to join the army. Her move away from the CHEG major made me realize that I didn't like it either. I shifted my focus away from traditional engineering, and joined the UD gym. By the time I graduated, I had broken up with Sherry, my girlfriend at the time, but was ready to pursue the career I was really interested in -- law enforcement. Following my dad's suggestion, I moved to a major city and tried out for the police academy. To my surprise, I got in.
At 26, I was a beat cop, and a good one, despite being a rookie. I had learned quickly to follow my hunches and as such had made a couple of surprising, if minor, arrests. My Lieutenant saw me as having definite potential for moving up. Maybe that's why, when a group of homicide detectives needed some backup going after a suspect in a public park-like setting, I was one of the team.
I had my standard-issue firearm, and owned my own gun, which I actually preferred - a .38 revolver. The suspect we were after was reported as being potentially armed, so I had that gun in my hand. The team, led by the two DTs, quietly surrounded the park and we jumped him from all sides. He ran away from me towards one of the other beat cops, who managed to bring him down onto his back. During the struggle, something happened I don't quite remember, but it ended up with the suspect on his back without a cop on top of him as I ran forwards. It was then that the man pointed his own gun, also a revolver at me and fired. I returned fire, and hit him twice. As he lay on his back, I approached him and found his gun empty and his lying still. The rest of the team quickly swarmed in, and the suspect was brought under control. I thought he was dead until he raised his revolver and tried to shoot again. Click. After that, he collapsed.
It was only then that I looked down at myself and realized I was bleeding pretty badly from my upper chest. One of the other cops looked at my back and informed me that there was no exit wound. I could breathe fine and was still standing, so I deduced the bullet had missed anything vital, but I was keenly aware of how close I'd come, and that I was about to go into major surgery to get the bullet out and stop me from bleeding to death.
This me I've described is a real me. For a little over an hour, while sleeping last night, I got to walk in his shoes. I don't know if he's going to pull through the shooting or not. I also don't know how having killed a man is going to affect him later on in life. All I know is that I have an answer to another "what if I'd..." question. The Juan Borla who became a city cop thinks differently, feels differently from me. But he's me, and I could have been him. He finds his life very satisfying, despite not having any romantic interests at the moment. He feels like he's making a difference.
I wish him luck.