text: Safety First As I opened the truck door and reached for the hood latch I noticed a meth kit on the bench seat and a rusty hatchet underneath it. I popped the hood and returned to my security partner to inform him of what I saw. We decided to stall instead of jumping her car off and call the police. After I hooked up the battery pack, without turning it on, I had the lady attempt to start her car. Once the truck failed to start I quickly said, “let’s wait a bit and let It charge.” While we were waiting for the cops to arrive her son walked up with a full gas can. He was just as strung out as she was. My partner and I swiftly informed him we were attempting to jump the car off to not freak him out. The cops arrived immediately after that and arrested them for public intoxication and possession, not to mention her 16-year-old son had five warrants out for his arrest. My first job out of high school was a security guard at mall. During my time there I witnessed many bizarre situations; however, these meth addicted drug addicts were the most disturbing. At nine o’clock at night, the parking lot closed and my job was to patrol the area and inform people to leave. When I approached the lady, she insisted on staying to watch the airshow. I was immediately uncomfortable and knew something wasn’t right. I radio my partner and we approached the situation with caution which was the right decision. I think I subconsciously entered the security field due to the trauma I encountered from my earliest memory. My earliest memory takes place in Birmingham AL of 1998 when I was roughly three years old. On a dark summer night, I was walking down a residential street with my older brother and my mom who was pushing a stroller with my baby brother in it. On the way to the gas station at the end of the street, I noticed a white truck drive past us a couple of times. Being young and practically having no thoughts at all I didn’t notice the danger of someone circling us. We finally reached the gas station for my mom to use the payphone to call my grandparents. While she was on the phone my brother and I to ran up and down in a ditch next to the gas station to entertain ourselves. My mom screamed, “Get over here you two.” I listened and returned to my mom standing in front of the store windows. As I was looking into the store at the twin pack of hostess cupcakes I heard a terrifying scream. I turned around to a giant man wearing a ski mask with devil red eyes, black long sleeve shirt, blue jeans, and black boots holding my brother with a gun to his temple. “Give me all your money or I’ll kill this bastard,” he yelled. My mother pleaded with him in tears explaining she had no money. She just used her last quarter in the phone booth to call her parents. The man pointed the gun at us. “Give me your money or I will kill you and all your children, you stupid lying bitch,” he said. I scuffled more behind my mom’s leg as she continued crying and begging for our lives, still repeating she had no money. The man picked my brother up and ran around the back of the building. My mom screamed out his name repeatedly, “Jacob!” Then I saw my brother running as fast as he could to us as we heard a truck start. As my mom grabbed the phone to dial 911 a white truck quickly left from behind the store. I don’t remember anything from this moment until the sea of cops arrived. Cops quickly became my heroes. I idolized them, and my goal for a long time was to become one until society started to criticize their every action making the job more dangerous than it has ever been. Police officers now work with a handicap while trying to make America a better place to live. Society wants revenge for unlawful killings by cops and the government wants a scapegoat resulting in police officers being locked up for years or at the very worst killed. A political issue I am not willing to risk my life for even though many people could benefit from my service. In this time of needing my family and I had no one else to turn to for help. The platoon of police that arrived found the men who robbed us and locked them up for a long time. To this day there is no better solace than knowing they got what they deserved, but it will never change the impression that night made on me in my foreseeable years. Twenty years later I am still always paranoid of everyone around. I trust no one except my family. I subconsciously pursued a security career to learn how to control my surroundings and secure my perimeter. Only years later did I realize why. I take every measure to be in control of me and my wife’s safety: I travel with weapons, I travel without cash, I lock the house at night, I have a guard dog, I watch everyone, I never sit with my back to the door at restaurants, and I avoid dark places. These are just a few examples of how this one man robbed me of being normal. I wash my face everyone morning and pray for a peaceful day.