My name is Paul and I’m a medically-retired California cop; part of my story involves post-traumatic stress (PTS), cancer, and suicidal ideation. The last 10 years of my police career were quite violent. I’ve killed 3 men in the line of duty; in 1999 I was involved in my 5th and last officer-involved shooting (OIS).

The last day I worked as a cop started off as a lovely, warm June morning. I was working by myself in a rural beat car. Other deputies and I were dispatched to a call involving a 44 year-old man, high on drugs, who was reportedly armed with a pipe bomb and threatening to detonate it. It turned out the man (his name was Peter) had been up for 4 days; he was high on methamphetamine and had barricaded himself in a small shop-like space located between the main house and the garage. This all occurred in a densely-populated, rural residential neighborhood. The logistical and tactical circumstances ended up being a nightmare.

To make a long story short, we set up a perimeter, evacuated the area and requested additional help. I ended up personally negotiating with Peter for about 20 minutes. He was delusional, paranoid and frequently brandished his cannon-fused pipe bomb and a lighter, threatening to detonate it if we didn’t go away. I ultimately shot him when he began to carry out his threat. He later died.

All of my OIS’s occurred while I was in uniform. Memories of those lethal confrontations, their legal aftermaths, and the grueling experience of being the focus of three separate officer-involved homicides was unpleasant. I’ve been called trigger-happy and my shootings were disparaged by a few former coworkers; I know what that feels like. I had to learn that such is frequently driven by their own performance insecurities or inexperience, but at the time, I took that stuff pretty hard. I’ve also been treated wonderfully by many of the cops I worked with, the communities I served, the investigators assigned to my shootings, and by the local media.

I relished being a cop and for years after my retirement, I really struggled. I missed cop work and felt lost, adrift, and without purpose. Suicidal ideation became an issue and I ultimately developed cancer in my abdomen (non-Hodgkin's lymphoma, stage 3). That turned out to be a wake up call and a real life-changing gift, actually. I gradually quit feeling sorry for myself, found new ways to help others, and over the years my PTS symptoms have become way more manageable.

For the record, I began police work in 1974. In 1987, I lateral-transferred into the large Central Valley sheriff’s department which I later retired from. Throughout my whole career I declined to seek promotion, and instead, worked primarily between patrol and investigations. I also had the advantage of varied assignments in SWAT, FTO, and an Underwater Recovery Unit. Throughout my career I was lucky to work alongside many courageous and talented men and women at a number of different agencies.

Today I live a pretty happy, fulfilling life. I found my way into recovery and a few months ago, I celebrated 20 years of continuous sobriety in Alcoholics Anonymous. I’m a father, grandfather and husband. I’m actually married to a wonderful oncology nurse who I met during my chemo treatments; we live in San Francisco.

Over the years I’ve talked with a number of cops and ex-cops about their own work-related calamities. Professionals often say that a problem shared is a problem halved, and that’s been absolutely the case for me. I’ve discovered that others have had it way worse than me, and that survival has been a precious gift.

If you’d like to meet up someplace and talk, I’ll happily make myself available.