It’s a lonely feeling. You’ve submitted your papers to retire, and you’re slowly completing the final days of a career that has occupied more than half of your life.

Colleagues are envious. The family is excited. 

But, as the end approaches, you quietly go through a range of emotions you had never anticipated. 

I remember it clearly. In those final days, there were occasions when it felt like an out-of-body experience. I could hear conversations as if I wasn’t in the room. Soon, I wouldn’t be. 

And although I knew it already, it was becoming increasingly clear that the organization would go on without me. In truth, there wouldn’t be much more than a ripple left by my departure. My responsibilities would be divided up, and the agency would continue to function. It is just the way it has always been.

As I waded through those last days, I began assessing the 25 years (20 on the road, five in investigations) I had spent with this organization. I began asking myself, “Did I accomplish everything I wanted to accomplish?”

It’s a difficult question. What exactly did I want to accomplish, and which version of the answer should I use: the version from my first day or the version from my last day? During those 25 years, I grew. I matured. I evolved. My priorities changed. I changed. You can’t not change after a full law enforcement career. 

The word that began appearing in my head was legacy. But legacy was for presidents, CEOs and chiefs, not street cops. Not detective sergeants.

As the final hours of the decades-long countdown ticked by, it became clear to me that everyone leaving an organization leaves a legacy. We only talk about legacy for presidents, CEOs and chiefs, but every person retiring leaves a legacy.

What also became clear to me was what “legacy” meant. It’s actually rather simple. Legacy comes down to two things: your collective body of work and how you treated others.

Law enforcement is a roller-coaster career with highs and lows. The highs can be very high. The lows can be very low. 

For me, the key to career survival was constantly reinventing myself. I accomplished this by continually taking on new responsibilities. 

It’s been said that in year seven, proactive officers begin to slow down. That was the exact time for me. Becoming a road supervisor the following year completely reignited my interest and love for the job. Later, it was becoming a firearms instructor and then a range master. Training officer, youth police academy coordinator and press information
officer all did the trick at different
times. Constantly taking on more responsibility was so crucial to my career survival. 

Overall, I was happy with my body of work. However, although I was a great believer in and practitioner of community policing, I wish I had stopped by more businesses, talked to more kids and befriended more addicts. If you are still active, there is still time. 

As far as how I treated others, I was satisfied with that as well. But, again, I could have done more. I could have made a periodic phone call to a colleague going through a divorce, sought out opportunities to praise younger officers or stayed in touch with that retired lieutenant. If you are still active, there is still time. 

I always thought it was vain, perhaps even obnoxious, to talk about one’s legacy. It isn’t. It means you care. It means you care about your contributions and deeds in the noblest of all professions. We need people in law enforcement who care. 

Legacy is something that should be talked about throughout our careers. That last day will come, and most want to feel they made a difference. 

If you are still active, the time to start thinking about legacy is now. It doesn’t matter where you are in your career. 

It’s especially important for those who have lost their passion for the job. If you are no longer that proactive road officer, ask yourself, “What’s next?” There must be a “What’s next?”. There are many ways to contribute: community policing, training, specialty units or even creating a new program.

Law enforcement officers have an incredible amount of power. They can do an incredible amount of good. In most cases, the exit is a one-way door. After going through that door, I promise you will look back with pride and regret. How much of each is up to you. 

What will be your legacy?