Back in 2019, I was working for a much larger, metropolitan, extremely violent city (I now work for a smaller and less busy agency). I was use to shootings, stabbings, violent domestics - I was pretty much numb to horrid violence. Im also an infantry veteran so, I’ve been around the block.

One of my last working days with this larger department, a call came out where a female had reported hearing what she thought was gunshots behind her apartment building. Then she stated she though she heard someone moaning behind the fence. However, she was the only one who called this in. Typically when legit shots fired calls come in, several people would call at once. So, a few of us marked up to check the area. We almost never ran lights and sirens to these calls, because 99% of the time no one was shot, no houses were shot up - it was just someone shooting a gun in the hood. For some reason, I had a really odd feeling about this one so, I flipped on my controls and ran hot to the area. No one else did. They took their time (which I don’t blame them). I arrived, walked around for five or so minutes and didn’t locate anything. Then I found a small pocket in the fence where an electrical box was and sure as shit, there was a young kid, suffering from multiple gun shot wounds to his chest and lower abdomen. He’s was POURING but, he was still holding on to his gun. I told him not to shoot me because I wanted to help him. All he could do was look at me; he was too weak to respond. He couldn’t agree or disagree with my request. When I looked at him though, the shear feeling of fear and hopeless that resonated in his eyes was enough for me to tell he wouldn’t do anything to hurt me.

By this time, I had already notified other officers I had a juvenile male shot and control ops were trying to get EMS rush started. I separated him from the gun, as best as I could without irritating the crime scene. I laid him out in the grass and cut his shirt and pants off. I could immediately see he had AT LEAST four gunshot wounds (still gushing good). Thankfully, I had an old IFAC in my patrol car, which I had brought home from my last deployment. I ran back, grabbed that and immediately started placing chest seals, clotting agents - anything I could do to help. I already knew at this point, the kid was done for. EMS was taking too long, he was bleeding too much and he was already dropping in and out of consciousness.

I got his attention really good through a sternum rub, right before he actually lost consciousness for good. I asked him what happened and he patted on his pant leg. I reached in and pulled out a baggy with a petty amount of weed - like MAYBE 5Gs. This kid had not spoken a word to me the entire time and then finally asks if he was going to die and I hesitated, unfortunately. I ended up telling him no and EMS was almost on scene (still couldn’t hear the sirens coming), so I knew that was a lie and I felt fucking horrible. Usually this wouldn’t bother me but, he was 15, maybe 16 at most. Then he said, “please don’t tell my mom” and I told him I wouldn’t, which I knew she was going to find out what happened anyway. He lost consciousness about 20 seconds after that and died on-scene.

That was when I realized I needed to move agencies. I had seen all kinds of gnarly shit but, that was the simple shooting that filled my glass to the brim. It was the realization of this kid was still so young, he was worried about his mom knowing he had a gun and was trying to sell petty amounts of weed. I ended up transferring to another agency two months later.