FIRST PERSON
requires you to step into situations that most people would flee from. You’ll never forget the first time you’re called to a scene of domestic violence. The sight of a human being, bruised and trembling, clinging to you as if you’re their only hope, can shake you to your core. In that moment, you realise the true weight of your responsibility. But it’s not just about protecting them physically—it’s about giving them the strength to break free, to start anew. You’ll go home that night, the image of those haunted eyes etched in your memory, and you’ll wonder if you’ve done enough. Detectives face a different kind of darkness. They are the ones who sift through the aftermath of violence, piecing together the stories behind scenes of horror. They enter crime scenes where the silence is deafening, and the remnants of a life violently taken still linger in the air. The photos, the post-mortem reports, the interviews with grieving families—these become a part of their daily life. Each case is a puzzle, but it’s also a story of loss, of lives shattered, and sometimes, of evil that defies understanding. As an officer, you quickly learn that no matter how much power the uniform gives you, you are still just one person in a vast, complex world. There’s a profound humility that comes with the role. You’re there to serve, not to command. You can’t fix everything, and you can’t save everyone, but you try. Each time you step out onto the streets, you’re reminded that
you are just one part of a larger system, a small piece in the puzzle of people’s lives. For detectives, this humility is felt deeply. The more you learn about the intricacies of human behaviour, the more you realise how complex, and often tragic, the world truly is. Despite all your skills, despite all the evidence you gather, there are cases
“As an officer, you quickly learn that no matter how much power the uniform gives you, you are still just one person in a vast, complex world.”
that remain unsolved, questions that go unanswered. The weight of unsolved cases is heavy, knowing that somewhere out there, someone got away with a crime, and a family is left without closure. It’s a reminder that you are not omnipotent, that there are limits to what you can do. Then there are the times when helplessness seeps in. Despite all your training, all your efforts, there are situations where you simply cannot do enough. You might be called to a tragic accident where lives have already been lost, and no matter how fast you arrived or how hard you tried, you couldn’t prevent the outcome. It’s a helplessness that lingers, a weight that’s hard to shake off. For detectives, the helplessness often comes from the cases that go cold. The leads dry up, the witnesses go silent, and despite all the hours you’ve poured into the investigation, there’s nothing more
you can do. You’re left staring at an open case file, knowing that somewhere out there, the truth remains hidden. It’s a helplessness that gnaws at you, a reminder of your own limitations. Or when you’re called to a scene of overwhelming tragedy, like the aftermath of a suicide. You stand there, among the remains of a life that could not be saved, feeling utterly powerless. The sorrow in these moments is palpable, and it stays with you long after you’ve left the scene. You carry these experiences with you, not just in your mind but in your heart, and they make you question how much one person can truly do.
The emotional toll is one of the hardest
parts of the job. You learn to build walls around your heart, but some things still seep through. The loss of life is something you can never get used to. Whether it’s delivering the devastating news to a family that their loved one won’t be coming home or being the first on the scene of a fatal accident, it takes a piece of you each time. Detectives, too, bear the emotional scars of their work. They are the ones who listen to the confessions of those who have committed heinous acts, who sit across from killers and try to understand their minds. They are the ones who tell families that the person who took their loved one from them has been found, but sometimes, they are also the ones who must tell them that no one has. The sleepless nights, the nightmares, the images that replay in their minds—it’s a
37 | POLICE | FEBRUARY | 2025
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