Mark Cuban once said, “Don’t follow your passions, follow your effort.” That approach seems to have worked out for him, but I clearly didn’t heed his advice. Strangely, I think it worked out for the better anyway. Had I realized my passion for policing, I’d have avoided the meandering and expensive route I took to get here, sure. But it was exactly that winding road that landed me in the unique position I’m in today.

Before policing I worked as an attorney for a law firm in downtown Indianapolis. Becoming an attorney takes a lot of effort — effort I followed through on for not even two years after passing the bar. The firm focused mainly on civil matters: wills, trusts, contracts, zoning. The people were nice, the coffee was free and the political and professional sports connections were interesting, but it wasn’t for me. It was honestly very boring. I was appreciative the firm gave me a shot, but I had no future there. None I could imagine anyway. Plus, I was working a terrible business model. As the least experienced person at the firm, I answered the cold calls.

Whereas most officers approach the job knowing their why, mine was more of a why not.

Ring. Ring. “DTB Law Office. Casey speaking.”

“Hi there. I’m looking for legal help.”

“OK, perfect. You’ve called a law firm, so you’re off to a good start. What’s the issue?”

They’d give me some way-too-drawn-out spiel, and I’d respond by telling the halfway helpless caller how to solve it on their own. I’d say something like, “Just Google X and follow the steps,” or “Search for this and fill out the form.” Not great for business, but I’ll argue, good for society. Helping people help themselves.

Maybe I wasn’t smart enough to work as a lawyer for long, but I was smart enough not to. I considered a handful of domestic options before attempting to pursue work as a U.S. Foreign Service diplomat, much to my homebody wife’s chagrin. Inspired in part by a law school trip to China — the resume-building highlight of which may have been vending snacks from some lady’s beer cart atop the Great Wall as she restocked all the cold ones we’d downed — I soon realized I was running away from a troubled home life as much as I was running toward diplomacy. Surrounded by the distraction, instability and negativity of my wife’s and my divergent paths in life, I inevitably failed the practical interview portion of the hiring process. The silver lining, however, was that my failure there was a great wake-up call when it came to diplomacy at home. Once my wife and I had no choice but to figure things out or split, the decision to act became a lot easier. That ultimatum got us speaking honestly with one another. In a story far too long for this article, we figured out how to align our paths in life, with plenty of help from others. And, another silver lining, it was an experience relatable to many of the domestic incidents I’d later respond to as a patrol officer.

Eventually, I connected enough dots to land a position with a local nonprofit that used the success of notable institutions in the area to improve the stability of nearby neighborhoods. As I worked there, I simultaneously developed an interest in and began preparing for the academy. Only, I wasn’t originally prepping for the police academy. Instead, I’d set my sights on Indiana Department of Natural Resources (DNR) conservation officer work. The “bunny police,” as a friend of mine says. I went into that onboarding process in top physical form, with a decent grasp on relevant laws and regulations, and was killing the hiring process. Fast-forward a month, and I received a rejection letter from the DNR: “We appreciate your interest, but unfortunately you will not be moving on in the process.” It was clearly a stock letter, but I took it personally. I pinned it to my bathroom wall and used it each day forward for added motivation, sticking with my exercise and eating routines. I was staying in top-notch shape, only I didn’t exactly know why anymore. What I did know was that the rejection was likely due to one or both of two incidents: smoking doobies in Colorado or joyriding in a borrowed cop car.

The cop car incident sounds more ridiculous than it was. My friend and distant cousin and eventual roommate and neighbor (that’s Southern Indiana for ya) was supposed to house-sit for his K-9 officer cousin in a small town. I was invited along to check on the house, which we did, before we feasted our eyes upon his cousin’s kegerator. I can’t remember, but I assume we each had a beer. One of us came up with the brilliant idea that we ought to drive the fully-marked police K-9 SUV around, and the other agreed it needed to be done. Not sure who played which role, but safe to say we were both idiots. He found the keys and climbed into the driver’s seat. I, being the brilliant mind that I was, seated myself inside the locking dog crate. Now I remember; I most definitely had a beer. OK, two beers. After three beers, I climbed into the dog crate. We were so scared of getting caught, we just circled the neighborhood a couple times. Turns out it wasn’t the cop car incident that got me nixed. It was “the Colorado thing.” That’s how they phrased it in an email I’d later receive.

Fast-forward a year, and I received a call from the DNR saying, “We discussed the Colorado thing and agreed to update that policy.” The policy had been automatic disqualification for consuming illegal drugs within two years of a hiring process. I’d smoked weed in Colorado with some buddies after a marathon up a mountain out in Breckenridge. Legal there, but still illegal in Indiana. That trip was one year and 10 months before I started the hiring process. By the time I received the reapply email, I was halfway through the city academy, and I liked it. The more I thought about it, the better a fit I found city policing. Sure, I’d love to have gotten paid to walk the woods and boat the lakes. But I was connected to and living in Indiana, and the silver linings of the city police gig began to brightly shine through.

Ultimately, a taste of conservation officer work found me even as a city cop. A beat partner who works a fairly swanky mall district was dispatched to an “aggressive animal” call involving a deer running through the designer mall, shattering glass panes and ripping apart clothing displays. Some young buck causing a disturbance in the mall. What’s new? My partner ended up working with city animal control to drag the then-ketamine-sedated and severely injured deer out of a ransacked rack of Brooks Brothers suit jackets and onto a freshly mulched flower bed outside the mall using a wraparound dog leash and dog catcher pole. Feeling for the animal, my partner dispatched the deer he was dispatched to dispatch — to the simultaneous horror and relief of many a mall-goer. No one wanted to take the deer, and I didn’t want the meat to go to waste, so I took it, or rather, animal control delivered it to my place via DeerDash, zero buck delivery fee! I butchered it in my garage after shift that night and had a roast in the crock and a couple steaks on the grill (and in my belly) by day’s end. You could say the Fashion Mall deer had expensive taste.

Back on the winding road, my ultimate decision to commit to working as a cop may have taken some thought, but getting involved with policing was simple. In my nonprofit role, I often ran into local police officers and brass, and I soon began to realize my admiration for their work. So, after receiving the disappointing DNR news, I began to consider conventional policing. I was a community leader, knew my history, was in shape and had studied law. To my mind, that was a pretty fitting combination for 21st-century police work.

After an impromptu meeting with the then-chief of police during a community meeting, followed by envisioning my path and the work I’d soon need to put in, I decided to jump. Whereas most officers approach the job knowing their why, mine was more of a why not — as in, I’m interested, I’m qualified and there’s a need, so why not? Not exactly the divine calling that leads some to the job, but same result nonetheless.

Turns out this culmination of seemingly unrelated experiences was a great foundation for police work and, eventually, teaching criminal law at our police academy. Maybe I was following my efforts after all. What’s my point? Point is, with recruitment down 50% to 75%, maybe there’s opportunity to be found in tapping alternative markets. If I was dissatisfied in my professional role, it stands to reason that plenty of others are too.