We were closer than the police. Eight of us, having breakfast after a charity ride.
This time, when we arrived, Officer Daniels was first on scene. Young cop, maybe 23. He saw us pull up, recognized our vests.
“Yes sir.”
He looked at the school, then at us, then made a decision that went against everything in his training.
“I’m going in. You coming?”
“Lead the way, brother.”
We entered together. Found the kid in the bathroom, gun to his own head, crying. Wasn’t planning to hurt anyone but himself.
Took him alive. No shots fired. Kid’s getting help now instead of being dead.
Officer Daniels took heat for breaking protocol, for entering with civilians. His response at the review board?
“I’d rather be fired for saving lives than promoted for following rules that cost them. Spider taught us that.”
We’re those assets. Old men on motorcycles, leather vests and gray beards, carrying the weight of wars foreign and domestic. We’re not heroes—that was Spider. We’re just guys who refuse to wait when waiting means dying.
My cut has a new patch now. It sits right above my Purple Heart from Afghanistan. It’s a spider in angel wings, with four words beneath it:
“Protocol Doesn’t Save Lives.”Continue reading…
