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"Sorry honey, I have to work late again tonight, there was an accident." Sorry honey, I got forced out for a shift, I'm going to miss the birthday party." After about six years of hearing this, my very understanding wife, Frannie, decided if she couldn't beat me, she would join me. My wife, a 53-year-old cancer survivor, decided that she would follow her dream to become a police officer. To do this she would have to attend the grueling 18-week Maine Criminal Justice Academy. First she completed the 100 pre-service classes which enabled her to work the road for a police department.
Frannie then had her physical fitness, polygraph and psyche tests and completed her field training. 18 weeks after starting her academy class I was so proud to be the guy that got to pin her badge on her chest.
Then I got scared. Frannie would be working the same streets that I had worked when I first started, dealing with the same people, answering the same calls as I did.
The department she worked for was a small one that could only afford single coverage, she would be responding by herself. It seemed like for the first month on the road Frannie was responding to gun calls, guys with baseball bats, domestics and everything in between.
I patrol in a small city about 30 miles from where she works so I could hear what she was being dispatched to. After she cleared each call I would give her a ring to see what had happened and how she handled it. Frannie would tell me her "war story" and I would give her my opinion on how she did and what she might want to do differently in the future.
Just my opinions mind you.
Over the next few years when I would go to the police academy for in-service training I seemed to run into her classmates from her 18-week course. They would tell me stories about my wife when she was put into different scenarios and how she used her training and her wits to come out on top.
Men that she went through with would tell me they were inspired by her drive and determination. Her cadre's used her as an example to motivate new cadets.
The women that went through with her all seemed to look up to her. My wife was not only a cop she was like a rock star. A few more years have passed and now I don't call her after each call that she handles, because she does just that, she handles it.
I call her now and ask her for her opinions and how she would have done something. Frannie doesn't always do it the way I would, but she gets the job done. She's a good cop and I am no longer scared.
-Bob Fitzsimmons is with the Calais Police Department Add this page to your favorite Social Bookmarking websites        
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