CopShock: Second Edition
Surviving Posttraumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD)
by Allen R. Kates, MFAW, BCECR
Chapter Excerpts
LAPD Detective William H. Martin (Ret.) was the inspiration for CopShock and wrote the Foreword for the book. In part, here is what he says:
For most of my police years, I was addicted to alcohol and prescription drugs. I often had suicidal thoughts and once tried to kill myself. I didn’t realize that my exposure to frequent trauma was causing PTSD.
Fortunately, I have benefited from counseling and am now in recovery. But if I had had this book when I was a rookie cop, maybe the quality of my life would have been better.
I have never read a book with so much truth, honesty, eye-opening emotion and problem identification as CopShock. This book will begin the healing process for thousands of dedicated, active-duty officers. These officers have decades of service left to perform, yet do not know that the cumulative effects of PTSD have taken a heavy toll on them. Even retired officers, once they identify their symptoms, will begin to heal. (more)
The conductor slid open the rightside door and Christine leaned out, one foot on the catwalk. The man whose face was shrouded in darkness crept toward her.
"Excuse me, sir, would you mind stepping into the train?" she said, her voice non-threatening.
She could see in the gloomy light his coat was rumpled and dirty. His pace did not change.
"Sir, you're not supposed to be out here. Please get into the subway car."
The man brushed against her as he passed, and then stopped, turning to face her. His beard was matted and he smelled bad. The brief physical contact made her uneasy. Did he mean to touch her? She suppressed a momentary revulsion. (more)
He took a couple of steps in the direction of Vesey Street . He was maybe a hundred feet from the north tower on the concourse level-when the top floors of the north tower began to collapse, pancaking on top of each other.
"The sound started out faintly and picked up speed like a train and got closer. Because of all the air being pushed out of the building," said Jimmy. "I felt this huge blast of wind."
He could see beams and debris on the ground, but didn't know they were from the south tower, and there was so much dust billowing toward him, he couldn't even tell that the north tower was thundering down. (more)
From a few feet away, the man fired his Magnum. Ian felt something hot hit his forehead. On reflex, he jerked the trigger of the shotgun.
The slug tore into the bandit’s chest. The man stood there, puzzled. He didn’t fall down. Then he tried to back toward the elevator, his gun still pointed at Ian.
“I shot him again,” Ian told me. “And he kept looking at me, trying to get to the elevator. And I shot him again. And then I heard over my shoulder, BANG, and then he went down.”
Over Ian’s shoulder, Eric had fired his shotgun into the bandit.
“I stepped on his wrist,” said Ian, “and took the gun off of him. And he immediately got like apologetic and he said, ‘Oh shit, I’m hurt.’ And he told me, ‘Take my shoes off, man. I can’t feel my feet.’ And I thought, He’s dyin,’ I’ve severed his spine. And he tried to give me his jewelry. I said, ‘Relax, guy, relax. We got an ambulance coming." (more)
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Copyright © 2008, 2022 by Allen R. Kates