Suicide is not an easy topic to discuss. Whether you’ve lost a co-worker to suicide or have had your own suicidal thoughts, you have support through Concerns of Police Survivors (C.O.P.S.). Law enforcement is not an easy career, and it changes a person. You see things no person should ever see. The stressors put on officers can carry immense weight, but C.O.P.S. is here to help lift that off of you.

Many life-changing conversations have been had through events specific to active and retired officers. Whether it’s at the Co-Workers Retreat, Co-Workers for Couples Retreat, one of nine Traumas of Law Enforcement trainings or the National Conference on Law Enforcement Wellness and Trauma, careers and lives have been changed. In a lot of cases, lives have been saved.

Such is the case with Max Morgan. Max became a surviving co-worker when he lost his friend and colleague in the line of duty in 2014. Here is Max’s story, in his own words.

Ten years ago, on January 30, 2014, Sergeant Cory Wride was shot and killed after he pulled over to help a motorist who had pulled to the side of the road with their flashers on. After a short conversation at the suspect’s vehicle, Cory returned to his vehicle to find more information on the occupants. A 17-year-old female driver with her 36-year-old boyfriend in the passenger seat, who was acting strangely, made the tiny hairs on the back of Cory’s neck stand up. The passenger had a “board of pardons” warrant issued the day before and he needed to go back to prison.

The stressors put on officers can carry immense weight, but C.O.P.S. is here to help lift that off of you.

Cory’s dashcam showed the truck’s rear slider window open, and the passenger presented a handgun and shot at Cory seven times. The first two rounds entered the windshield, hit Cory in the head and were instantly fatal. When dispatch attempted a Code 4 check, Cory was not answering. I vividly remember when dispatch radioed me and asked if I would go check on Cory. January 30th was a cold, snowy, foggy day in Utah, with low visibility. I knew where Cory was, and I was only a mile away.

I will never forget arriving at Cory’s vehicle, the images of what I saw and the feelings I felt when I found Cory dead in his driver’s seat. With the suspect vehicle already gone from the scene, I was initially unsure of what had happened. I thought this might be an ambush, with the suspects waiting for us to pull up one by one and intending to shoot us like they did Cory. This scared me to think, “This is where I could die.” My life at the time was not in a good place. Ten days earlier, I had arrived on a call involving a co-worker who had killed his entire family and then himself. Days after that, my wife and I decided that I needed to move out of our house. It instantly shook me that I had not talked to any of my family that morning — not my kids or my wife.

I composed myself, and it was quickly discovered that this was not an ambush. We then went to work on locating the vehicle. About 30 miles south, one of my co-workers located the vehicle and attempted to get behind it. As he got close, the suspect again opened the rear window and shot my friend in the head through the windshield, causing lifelong challenges for him. The suspect was shot and killed as he fled south of this location. The girlfriend is still in prison.

I was in a deep, dark place with everything that had recently happened in my life, and I turned to alcohol and seclusion to cope. I was not sleeping, and my work was below par. The massive alcohol use turned into nights of deep, dark suicidal thoughts. I thought I would be better off and my family would be better off without me around.

A short time later, I received a phone call from an individual I did not know from California, who said he wanted to take me to a C.O.P.S. Co-Workers Retreat. I laughed at him and told him no. Over the next few weeks, he was persistent, and I decided I had a decision to make: stay home and pull the trigger, or give this a chance. I thought my kids and wife deserved better from me, so I decided to go. I attended my first retreat in September 2014. As I and a couple of my co-workers from my department waited in the room at the St. Louis Airport, I looked around and wondered why these people were laughing, having a good time and excited to see each other. If I could have, I would have walked out of the room, bought a plane ticket and gone home (probably with a stop at the airport bar first). The bus ride ended in the backwoods of Potosi, Missouri. As I exited the bus, more people were there to greet me, laughing, smiling and excited to see everyone. I thought, “What the hell? Do they not get the hell I have been through? Why is everyone so happy?”

The next morning was our debriefing. I hated those. But this one was different; this one was not with people in my department or surrounding agencies who had no clue what I was going through. As I started to tell my story, I used several boxes of tissues and struggled to get through it. Then the next person started telling their story, and I was instantly like, “Holy crap, these people in this room get it, maybe not the exact circumstances, but very similar circumstances.” These people became my friends and people I bonded with and didn’t want to be away from. These people understood me. I left that retreat feeling hopeful for the first time in a long time.

Just when I thought I was doing better, in February 2015, my brother, who was my best friend, decided that pulling the trigger was the best option for him. I instantly lost my person. But the crazy thing is, it was all my C.O.P.S. co-worker friends who reached out to check on me through calls and texts and some even showed up unannounced on my doorstep. C.O.P.S. is the only reason I made it through this time. Just when I thought God couldn’t possibly give me anymore, my daughter was in a car crash that placed her in a coma and in the hospital for 30 days, followed by 90 days of rehabilitation. Again, it was my C.O.P.S. family who reached out and was there for me.

So here’s an update: My wife and I decided to not give up, and I moved back home 21 months after I moved out. My daughter will never be 100%, but she is alive, happy, married and has given us two amazing grandkids, which they said would never happen. I have three amazing daughters, two sons, three grandkids and a knock-dead gorgeous wife. It scares me to think I was almost not here for all of this.

This last fall I attended my tenth retreat. I have not missed a year; now I’m the one laughing, smiling and having a good time. This is a place I look forward to going every year to be with my people — the people who understand me and get me. This is where I became a better person and left the darkness behind. I continue to attend the retreat to help the first-year people who are just like I was back then — scared, nervous and unsure if they want to be there.

My wife and I have attended two of the Co-Workers for Couples Retreats. This is an amazing weekend where my wife and I get to spend time together working on our relationship. These programs literally saved my life, my family and my marriage. There is never a way to repay that, so I deeply and sincerely say thank you to the C.O.P.S. organization from the bottom of my heart.

Max found his place among his fellow surviving co-workers at the Co-Workers Retreat. There is a retreat or camp for every survivor including spouses, children, adult children, parents, siblings, fiancés/significant others and extended family. Co-workers also have the option to attend the Co-Workers for Couples Retreat, where a surviving co-worker and their spouse/significant other attend to work on healing together, as C.O.P.S. recognizes that trauma on the job is often carried home.

As Max described, one of the most vital pieces of the healing puzzle is peer support, which is found at these camps and retreats where survivors come from all over the nation to be with others who truly understand what they’re going through.

For officers who have had thoughts of suicide or are struggling with post-traumatic stress, C.O.P.S. has a place for you. You do not have to be a surviving co-worker to attend a Traumas of Law Enforcement training or the National Conference on Law Enforcement Wellness and Trauma. You do have to be willing to cover difficult topics while also acquiring the tools and resources to set you on a path for wellness, safety and a healthy work–life balance. It’s time to put the focus on you, to bring you home to them.

For more information about C.O.P.S. and how to get connected, visit concernsofpolicesurvivors.org or follow @nationalcops on social media.