It’s your fault, too.
Look, Chief, I know this is bad.
But the street wheel just wouldn’t turn the way I wanted.
Other people saw me. They got scared when they thought I might hit them.
I kept thinking someone with a cell phone might call you and get me in trouble again, so I tried to get out of the area fast.
I remember what you said about me drinking while on duty and didn’t want you to suspend me again.
You know and I know I can’t stay away from the stuff.
Even when I was a kid I thought I could handle the stuff. I always seemed to be able to drive a car when I have to, walk a straight line when the cops pulled me over, even win a bar fight when someone looked at me wrong.
Back then, I didn’t have to worry about getting fired from no job.
My old man didn’t care what I did as long as I didn’t bother him. He was drunk most of the time anyway.
You know and I know how much trouble I got into with the law.
Not a weekend went by when I wasn’t locked up for something, and as good a driver as I thought I was, I wrecked a lot of cars. I guess I thought I was superman and did everything possible to try and prove it.
You were a patrolman back then, you saw what I was doing to myself, and hated me for doing it.
I never did ask you why you helped get me straight like you did, making sure I had a good sponsor at AA.
For a time, the program worked as if you and God were looking out for me and I began to forget my old man and started looking towards you for guidance.
Heck, I let you talk me into becoming a cop like you were. I even believed your spiel about doing for others what others have done for me.
You seem to think I had all the right skills to be a cop and that I only used them wrong.
Later, you even warned me against hanging out with a certain group of cops, saying their constant carousing would only lead me back to the place where I was before.
I didn’t believe you. I liked to party. I liked the women I met when with them. I guess that’s what ruined my marriage and made me go from social drinking right back into the binge.
It got so bad that I was flying high even while I was on patrol, stashing bottles in the drunk so that nobody would see them.
I tried to stop. Honest I did.
I even came to you so I could take time work so I didn’t have to worry about doing anything stupid while on duty.
I told you I was in trouble. I begged you to walk me through the ritual again, and to your credit, you did.
Some people thought I was some kind of hero for making the effort like I did.
But deep down, I knew I was no hero. Not in the way they meant.
That’s why I’m back on the sauce. That’s why I hit the back of the car as hard as I did.
I didn’t even see the station wagon until I was plowing through as if through ice. And I certainly didn’t see the kid in the back seat until she was dead.
Damn it, chief, it’s your fault as much as mine. You should have stopped me a long time ago. You should have known how I couldn’t stop myself.
I know I’ll never be a cop again. I know I’m going off to jail. But at least locked up I know I won’t be hurting anybody else for a long time.