In late 2006 I finally resigned from policing. It was the best decision I’d ever made in my life and I regret not doing it years earlier. Not only did I walk away from policing, I also took the first important step away from the blackness (later to be diagnosed as post traumatic stress disorder) that haunted me. After a stint in Melbourne, my husband’s work took us to Canberra and it was there in September 2009 that I was sitting in front of the computer, surfing the morning news when I opened one of the Tasmanian papers and nearly fell off my chair.
But firstly, consider this. Three years had passed since I’d left policing. Not only was I geographically a long way away from Tasmania Police, but was also very mentally removed from it. I’d stopped waking in the night and worrying that all the dead bodies I’d dealt with were hiding under the bed. I’d stopped shuddering every time I heard the wail of a siren. I’d begun to see the beautiful things in life again – things I hadn’t seen for over a decade – the birds in the trees, flowers, people smiling as they walked by and wished me good morning. I’d stopped assuming the worst of everyone and everything and was happier than I’d ever been.
When I opened the article however, I was catapulted back in time. For there was a photograph of an ex-colleague who I’d known since our academy days in 1995, had worked with on and off, but had lost touch with after I left policing. He’d been involved in a horrific situation involving a firearm where he could easily have been killed on duty.
I was astounded at how emotional I became just reading the article. I’d considered myself completely cut off from policing, but obviously I was wrong. Thus The Brotherhood was born that morning from a simple question. ‘How would those nearest and dearest (and even those very far away) feel if one of their colleagues had been murdered on duty?’
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