I Felt Nothing*

When I shot him
I felt nothing.
He fell in a lifeless heap
And did not move.

I remember everything
About that night.

I remember
The street light sparking
Off the cheap gun in his hand
The tang of gunpowder in the air
The loud pipes on a motorcycle
A block away
And my partner running past me
As I holstered my weapon.

But I felt nothing.

Squads with flaring strobes
Closed on the scene.
The EMT’s arrived.
Investigators placed numbered signs
To detail the spread of spent shells.

But I felt nothing.

I was interviewed by Internal Affairs
By detectives
By my sergeant
And I answered the same
Every time.

But I felt nothing.

I did not discuss it with my wife
But the recurring nightmare
Was a continual loop
Every damn night.
So I slept less and less.

When I returned to duty
I was easily angered
Jittery
Prone to check
And recheck my weapon.

My home life imploded.
My wife left
Taking the kids
And when the bottle became my solace
I felt nothing.

I was placed on administrative leave.
My friends stopped coming around
My anger consumed me
But I insisted I felt nothing.

Then came the night
I went to the park by the river walk
And in the dark
Outside and inside
I placed a 9mm to my head
And pulled the trigger.

After that
I felt nothing.

*Obviously, this is not autobiographical.
But this does reflect my experience after
22 years in law enforcement, and the loss
of more than one friend and officer.
Police Suicide is not widely discussed
But within the “Thin Blue Line"
it is deeply felt. But the duty
continues its demand every shift.