The Ones Who Swore to Serve
If there’s one thing that ignites a fire in me faster than anything else, it’s watching someone in power use their position to bully others. Especially when it’s someone who once raised their hand and swore an oath — an oath to serve and protect. There’s a particular kind of rage that builds when that trust is broken. When that badge becomes a weapon. When the gavel becomes a hammer of personal vendetta instead of justice.
And here’s the real kicker — most of the ones who abuse their authority? I’d bet my life they were the ones picked on in school, the ones stuffed into lockers or laughed out of the lunchroom. Now, all grown up, they flash a badge or bark orders with a little too much glee, like it’s payback time for every wedgie they ever got.
I didn’t ask for a fight. I didn’t go looking for trouble. But trouble found me anyway — wearing a uniform, carrying a badge, and driving a patrol car late one October night.
I’ve always believed in giving people the benefit of the doubt, especially those in uniform. I’ve defended officers when others generalized them all as corrupt. I’ve tried to be that person who honors the law, even when the law doesn’t honor me back.
But what happens when that respect gets weaponized? When being polite, quiet, or cooperative doesn’t protect you — it only fuels their arrogance?
Let me be clear: not all officers are bad. But the ones who are? They are dangerous, and worse — protected. And that makes them even bolder.
This post isn’t just about my story. It’s about holding a mirror up to the system that enables this kind of abuse, intimidation, and unchecked authority. It’s about being the voice for others who were silenced, humiliated, or broken by those who were supposed to protect them.
I’ll take you back to the night of October 20th, 2024 — the night when a routine drive home became anything but. I was obeying every law, doing everything right. But it didn’t matter. Because when someone’s already decided you’re guilty, facts don’t stand a chance.