# The last call: Reflections on retirement



## kwflatbed (Dec 29, 2004)

*Career Survival*
with Sgt. Betsy Brantner Smith

As I was finishing up in the range I heard one of my guys on the radio: "He's running from me, we're in a foot pursuit, southbound through the park!" As the radio came alive with units responding, I ran to my car, still loading one of my magazines. I got on my portable: "Sam-33 I'm responding from the PD!" The nineteen year old male was wanted on warrants and had committed some additional misdemeanor offenses and now he was on the run.

I was only two blocks away; the sun was shining, the traffic was light, it was a great day for a foot pursuit. I flipped on my red lights and was heading into the area when I heard the full description: white male, tall, thin, wearing a t-shirt, jeans, and a pink Mohawk. 
A pink Mohawk?! Did I hear that right? This was too good to be true. I parked my squad car on the street and bailed out into the back yards, grateful that I work out as much as I do. Besides, how hard was it going to be to find a guy with a pink Mohawk?
We never found him, but we know who he is. There will be another warrant for him by the end of the week; one with a really high bond thanks to a local judge who doesn't tolerate people running from the cops. But I won't be there when the warrant is served. I won't get to help arrest him or hang out in the lock up when they bring him in, just to comment on that pink Mohawk. I won't get to tell my guys "Good Job!" or sit with them while we laugh and recount the "man hunt" through the back yards of that suburban neighborhood, looking for a pink tuft of hair sticking out of someone's hedges. By the time that warrant is signed, I won't be their sergeant anymore; I won't even be a cop. 
I'll be...*retired*.

Full Article: The last call: Reflections on retirement


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