I was immediately excited when I was asked to write this blog. I took advantage of every opportunity to discuss my career because it was everything I dreamed it would be. I recently retired as a Captain after more than twenty-three years of service with the Prince George’s County Police Department. I started my Law Enforcement career after graduating from Towson University in 1996. After High School, I got a strong desire to become a police officer. I would talk to every officer I saw and ask them about the job. I was usually greeted with negative comments about the job, but that didn’t deter me. I made a deal with my parents that I would graduate from college with a degree in Criminal Justice and, if I still wanted to be a police officer, I had their blessing. With a Bachelor’s degree in hand, I flooded the market with applications. I was hired in 1998 by Prince George’s County, Maryland Police Department and my career began.
After graduating from the academy, I was assigned to District 1/Hyattsville and was the only female officer on my squad. I remained the only female for more than five years. The squads at this time were predominately male. I settled into my squad and proved myself a capable and intelligent officer. It helped that I was a tomboy and found ease being around men. I loved patrol and what it offered. I would always tell my family and friends who were not in law enforcement that the shifts were like a lottery. You would go in-service and never know what you were going to get. No two days were ever the same. The adrenaline and the thrill of the unknown are addictive. I had picked the perfect career, and the years would fly by. I decided early on that I was not going to focus on the fact that I was a female and on doing the best job I could. I would go on as many calls in a shift as I could to learn, grow, and be exposed to the challenges and dangers of police work. As a field training officer and supervisor, I would pass down this philosophy to my rookie officers. In my early career, I was not a parent, and now that I am a mother to a daughter, I know that not being a parent made police work easier. I could handle the tragedies that I saw, especially concerning kids, without thinking personally about it. I had this ability to process crime scenes mentally at work, and when the shift was over, I went home and left it at work. I would tell my family the funny stories and fascinating events at work but kept much of the darker stuff to myself. Law Enforcement can be a lonely career; I say that because you become a different person and live a different way of life, no longer a civilian. You become part of a different family that works around the clock, on holidays and long shifts, and also places your life on the line daily. You become more isolated from the civilian world and change your habits, thinking of tactical advantages in your daily personal situations. It no longer becomes a trip to the mall or a meal at a restaurant. Every cop lives with their head on a swivel. Attention to detail and knowing your surroundings drilled into your head from day one at the academy. As a female, it can be lonely at work. The male officers hang out together; some want to be your protector. It can become hard to navigate your role. I remained focused on contributing equally to the squad and handling my business. I never wanted to show weakness, mentally or physically. Sometimes it becomes impossible not to. I remember responding to a fatal pedestrian accident on Annapolis Road. Upon arrival on the scene, I located an older female lying in the road, deceased. She was crossing the street after getting groceries for the church where she volunteered. The scene was active because she was hit directly in front of the church. Her body remained on the scene under a white sheet, and I secured the scene for accident reconstruction. While canvassing, I found the victim’s key chain lying on the road several feet from her body. I bent down to mark it as evidence and saw that it said “world’s best grandmother and mother.” I immediately got sad inside and quiet. A senior male officer on the scene came over to me, and I showed him the key chain. He said to me, “is that your grandmother?” I said no and immediately got back to work. This is just one example of how the job can be isolating. I can honestly say that it doesn’t get easier, especially with promotions. After ten years on the job, I went for Sergeant and got promoted on the first list. Before it was official, my Lieutenant field promoted me after my sister squad Sergeant got into a departmental shooting in Tacoma Park on a cold February morning. The Sergeant and two officers were involved in the shooting and were placed on administrative leave. Immediately after the incident, I became the supervisor for the remaining squad members. I relished the Sergeant role. It was my favorite. I was still very much in the action, still handling calls, but I was in charge and could make it my own. I loved mentoring the young officers and leading from the front. I considered myself strict but fair. I still was not a parent at this time, but many of my troops had young kids. I often wondered how these young men and women handled the job and the family. The exhaustion on their faces was apparent. I would ask them on occasion how they were and check in with them, but I also expected them to do their job day in and day out. Supervision is a tight balance between showing concern and holding them accountable. I had a few occasions where I thought being a female was an issue for some of the men that worked for me, but I viewed it as their problem. After a year and a half of being a Sergeant, I went for Lieutenant and got it on the first list again. I believe in a blog; I can brag a little. It was at this rank that I felt extremely lonely. I was further removed from the everyday activities of the streets and supervision. I now had two Sergeants and two squads under me. I did not want to be a micromanager. I wanted to give my Sergeants the same freedom that I was afforded to run their squads. It was definitely a tough transition for me. I worked alone and ate alone. I had a great sense of pride because, at this rank, only a handful of female Lieutenants and only a few had street ‘creds’. I was one of them. I loved patrol and the 2excitement that came with it. I believed I could make the most impact on officers at the patrol level. I enjoyed the other roles I had in my career, which included: Detective, Pawn Task Force, IAD, Narcotics, Records, and Evidence, but patrol was my favorite. I joined the police department to be the police. I never sought out administrative jobs; I was forced with rank to work some of them. In retrospect, I am glad that I became well-rounded and learned different aspects of the Department. When I was transferred to IAD as a Sergeant, I was angry. I wore my anger as a sweater, which was apparent to everyone. I was summoned to the Chief’s Office to speak with the Assistant Chief (he was a former Major of mine). He told me sternly, “this assignment is not a punishment. Sometimes you have to be forced into uncomfortable positions to grow.” As an immature Sergeant at the time, it went in one ear and out the other. I realized how true that statement was when my year in IAD ended, and I realized how much I had learned and how much better I would supervise. Cops hate change. Some cops will stay in a job their whole career and never promote because they hate change. I became a cop who hated a lot of change to one that embraced it. I stayed in patrol and on the same squad for seven and a half years before I went for Detective. A senior corporal told me early in my career, “hey, you need to have the attitude that you have a gun and will travel. That way, if you get transferred, it won’t be so devastating.” Every cop knows that transfers happen often. I would pass this statement down to my troops throughout my career too many times to count. The same corporal also said at the gas pumps one shift, “hey, you know what happens to female cops, don’t you?” I said, “no.” He said, “their ass becomes two-night sticks wide after a few years on the job.” It became my mission never to let that happen. I stayed fit and maintained my appearance in my uniform. I knew that female cops were judged by their male counterparts based on looks. It helped me stay fit and look the part, especially as a supervisor. It was at the rank of Lieutenant that my daughter was born. Her birth changed my mindset about everything. I became more anxious at work and more aware of the danger. I had to stay safe and come home after every shift. At home, I had to protect her and be there for her. I immediately had so much respect for all of the Officers that were parents. I related to them. Calls for service involving children became much harder. I was a mother. I had the most important title of my life.
I stayed a Lieutenant for four years and went for Captain. My main reason for going for Captain was for my daughter. The other reasons were money, prestige, retirement, and female representation in the rank. When I retired this past June, I was the only female Captain in the Department. I was the loneliest at this rank. I was so far removed from police work and action that I was depressed. I was also stressed because I was running a District Station with 185 officers under me. My first assignment was as Assistant Commander of District 1. A very busy high crime District. I was paired with a female Major, and we became the first two females to run a District Station. I had made history as a Captain in my first assignment. It took me a good two years to adjust to this rank and my role in the Department.
At this rank, the Department was competitive and ruthless. Captains breaking their backs to be noticed, fighting to make Major. Most lose sight of where they came from and ignore the needs of the troops. So I separated myself from the pack and decided not to loose sight of who I was and what I believed. I was a lone wolf. I was not a politician. I said at my retirement party that I came on a cop in 1998 and left a cop in 2022.
Many cops do not share this sentiment in the high ranks, but it makes me proud. It also didn’t make me a Major! I am typing this because I don’t have many regrets about my career. I was a tomboy growing up, very athletic, and related very well to the opposite sex. I wanted to play soccer when I was five, but the league had no girl teams. I told my parents I didn’t care and begged them to sign me up to play with the boys. They did, and I played and never looked back. Working in a male-dominated field did not deter me at all. I belonged in the Police Department, and everyone else would have to adjust.
I am forever grateful to my parents for their love and support. The little girl who played with boys picked the best career in the world.
