Becoming The Change (Police)

If you've read these blog posts in chronological order of my story up until this point, you'll have read: My Childhood; A Young Man; and A Fifth & A Flannel.

If you're just tuning in... then at this point I've graduated college, sold everything I owned, backpacked across the country playing music on the street for 3 months. Knowing I wanted to become the police in a big city, I knew I would have to deal with homeless people often. At this point I had enough experience to understand most walks of life but lacked understanding of homeless peoples struggles and path. I had now checked that box and felt ready to protect & serve a community but had no idea that the next five years would unfold the way you're about to learn.

Becoming the Police...

Believe it or not, while we were stuck playing music on the street 8 hours a day trying to make enough money to get out of New Orleans... I met a girl.

After 6 months of applying and being denied from 20+ police departments, I realized Atlanta wasn't for me.

I moved down to New Orleans and continued my mission to serve.

In the same week, I applied for New Orleans Police Department and the Peace Corps.

I then proceeded to work executive security for movie sets, celebrities, sports teams and more for about 8 months.

Then in the same week of August 2014, both NOPD and the Peace Corps called with an offer and I was faced with a decision.

2 years in Tanzania or Ethiopia

Or a career in law enforcement that I had pursued relentlessly.

Catching A Cop Killer...

After 7 months in the Police Academy, I had graduated and got the assignment I had asked for.

I aspired to be one of the "jump out boys" that I had seen on first 48 and night watch. A proactive task force unit working in the lower 9th ward of New Orleans, also known as CTC "Cut Throat City" or "Cross the Canal".

The 5th District was known to be the worst area in New Orleans.

So that is exactly where I requested to go, along with the 7th District which at times was arguably worse.

After 6 weeks, I was then sent to the third for a few weeks, then eventually the 7th District.

In my first couple days in the 7th District, a signal 108 (officer's life in danger) came out over the radio.

Officer Daryle Holloway of the 5th District had been shot and killed transporting a prisoner after a bad search conducted by his co-workers.

I had worked with him in the 5th and had just gone out to dinner with him.

Long story short, A manhunt ensued for his killer Travis Boys and 24 hours later, I found myself in a foot chase with him and caught him without having to kill him.

The department and FBI were very impressed with how I conducted myself as a rookie and it set my career on the fast track.

Note: You can find a detailed step by step encounter of that day in a separate block titled "Catching A Cop Killer" that was later published by Law Enforcement Today Magazine.

Going the extra mile...

This unfortunate event put me in the department's spotlight as a rookie and brought opportunities that most wouldn't get until they had 5+ years on the job.

I was quickly written a "blank check" to stop taking calls for service and focus on proactive work whenever I wanted (thanks Lt.).

This allowed me to do exactly what I wanted to do. Get guns, drugs and killers off the street.

Over the course of the next 2 years I had the privilege to work with an incredible team of men in the 7th District Task Force and was spoiled with great Sergeant, Lieutenant and Commander.

I had the opportunity to work on human trafficking cases with Homeland Security as well as countless joint task force operations with Louisiana State Police, US Marshalls, FBI, DEA and ATF.

When I wasn't working I would spend hours training Israeli Self Defense Systems at Triumph Krav Maga, as well as weekend on the shooting range doing fighting/shooting drills.

My sole focus was to become the best police officer I could be and make a name for myself so that the S.W.A.T./T.I.G.E.R. Team knew who I was when as spot opened up in their unit.

They were the cream of the crop. 23 SWAT operators who were also detectives tasked with investigating and apprehending suspects of serial armed robberies, murders and more.

I made a DECISION that I was going to become their ideal teammate and earn my position in the unit.

But everything changed in a matter of seconds...

On Thursday, October 12th, 2017 I went into work early to work overtime (with the guys in this picture) because I had requested my first night off all year for my cousins bachelor party.

I fist bumped all the guys on the way out of the office, told them to be safe and took off to Taladega Speedway for the weekend.

8 hours later I was sitting around the camp fire drinking a beer in the middle of the racetrack when my Lieutenants name came up on my phone.

She was calling me just after midnight (Oct 13th) even though she knew where I was.

5 years later I still get chills run down my spine and tears build behind my eyes when I think of that moment.

I knew... I knew. I just didn't know who.

I answered the phone and she told me "It's Milkdud, he was shot in the head and didn't make it. He's dead"

If you can't guess, she was referring to Marcus "Milkdud" McNeil, the one on the far left with the head that looks like a milkdud.

I crumbled to my knees for hours, cried myself to sleep and then drove back to New Orleans in the morning to be with my unit.

Another long story short - We went through the police academy together, ended up being partners for a while and then switched. That night he road with my new partner because I wasn't there. So any other night it would have been me.

I quickly went into full self-destruct mode, drowning myself in whiskey every night for 150 days straight, putting on 50 lbs, destroying my relationship with my now ex-fiancé and spiraling into a suicidal depression.

The only time I was fully functioning and not a complete mess was when I was working.

210 lbs of anger, guilt and bourbon.

Most nights I'd sit on the couch with a bottle of whiskey, a glass and my duty weapon... just staring at it. - Contemplating.

Other nights, I'd try to sleep but after an hour or two, I'd sneak out of bed, tiptoe into the kitchen, wedge my fingers between the rubber of the freezer to open it quietly, grab two pieces of ice, put it in my glass and then proceed to sit there with my drink and gun. And I'd either drink myself to sleep or cry myself to sleep.

I was actually somewhat terrified to be sober, afraid of how I'd feel.

I didn't really sleep for about 6 months. And I think what kept me alive was the fact that I was more worried about the rest of my guys.

I was still doing a great job at work as far as the arrests I was making but not only was I a bit slower in foot chases and fights...

I began operating very unsafely. I thought to myself 'if it was supposed to be me that night, it will be me today".

So whether it was how I drove during car chases, or where I positioned myself in foot chases, I began taking chances I shouldn't have.

But I ended up hearing a rumor that the T.I.G.E.R. team was about to have an opening and immediately started getting my shit together.

I got myself back in the gym, poured out all the whiskey in my cabinet, started eating clean and solved my sleep problems.

T.I.G.E.R. - Tactical Information Gathering Emergency Response Team

After I passed the PT test it was time for the interview.

I walked up to a black door that said "War Room" on it. I walked into the room to find the entire S.W.A.T. team sitting and standing around a large conference table.

Arms crossed, straight faces, as I sat down at the head of the table.

Right as the interview was about to begin, the door opened behind me but I didn't look back.

It was the S.W.A.T. Commander. A man's man. 6'4', 250 lbs of Marine Corps muscle who was known for his unfuckwithable leadership and inability to be swayed by politics.

He may be the only man I've ever been truly intimidated by.

He decided to pull a chair up on my right side, sit down facing me and lean in just a few inches from my face while spitting his Copenhagen chew into his styrofoam coffee cup as him and the team asked me scenario based questions.

Before I got to my car, some of the guys on the team were texting me telling me I crushed it and just a few days later the transfer order came in.

For the next year, I got up most morning around 3am, dressed in my blacks, kitted up, and went into the War Room to be briefed on the high risk warrant we'd be executing that morning.

Afterwards, I'd spend two hours in the gym with the team. We would grab breakfast...

And then I'd dress up like a crack head or a construction worker named Zach, get into an undercover car and proceed to follow around gang members, hitmen and cold blooded killers waiting to get them in the right spot at the right time to take them down.

It's Time To Go Dylan...

A moment came on a Friday in December 2018 where I found myself standing in the mirror looking at a man I didn't set out to become.

I was headed south and all signs started pointing north.

That Monday... I didn't know it but my cover had been blown while I was doing surveillance during a 6 week investigation.

That Tuesday, an uncle I hadn't heard from in years reached out about New York State Police hiring... "Just in case I was thinking about coming home". This led me to call a few departments in NY that would be active enough for me to work in just to see what there tattoo policies were.

I ended up on the phone with two different recruiters offering me jobs over the phone saying "We don't have anyone with your level of experience applying."

That Wednesday, while dressed like I am on the right... I was following a group of stolen cars that were "wolfpacking" through a neighborhood when they all went into a house. I had my team move in, we stacked up on the door and executed a high risk warrant. One of the double-homicide suspects we apprehended inside made a statement in the interrogation room that he saved my life on Monday (which he did, and I didn't know) and that the gang was going to kill me the next change they had.
- A story for another time.

That Thursday, my fiance's dad called me (who never calls me), to let me know "Listen, I love you and the way you've taken care of my girl so I'm gonna give you a heads up. If you don't get your shit together, she's going to leave you."

That Friday, I was put on desk duty and told that all the cars I had been driving are burnt, and that I couldn't work the street or ride with anyone because it would put them in danger too.

The week prior to this, my plan was to work my way up to point man and be on the S.W.A.T. team until I retire or die.

That entire week I was feeling off. My gut was screaming at me but I couldn't identify it until the end of the week.

It was screaming at me "It's time to go Dylan".

Read the next part of my story here!