by Steve Martinez

I read, with great interest, Paul Milone’s article in last month’s Shield: "Train hard for the day will come". A year and a half ago I was one of those guys who thought – like Paul – that I needed to train myself to physically and mentally withstand the sensory overload that would occur in a critical incident. I went so far as to regularly envision myself in different critical incident scenarios. I would picture myself reacting appropriately to the situation while relying on my training.

Sometimes I would come out unscathed, other times I’d be injured (sometimes even critically). But I always would come out victorious. I wanted to condition myself to be able to withstand the stress of having to fight through injury as well as adversity during a critical incident. It was my way of planning for the future, just in case. I wanted to be prepared. I wanted to train my mind to stare into the face of the enemy and not blink.

Well, just in case turned out to be November 29, 2006, and August 6, 2007. Two moments, 250 days apart, that gave me that rare glimpse inside myself. Paul Milone is right. Train hard. Don’t train as if it might save you someday, train as if it will. It may save a citizen, a co-worker, or a friend.

On November 29, 2006 Robert Carter led officers on a pursuit that lasted the better part of 20 minutes before it culminated with an officer-involved shooting in Carter Lake. Of course, most of you know that when I say in Carter Lake I actually mean IN Carter Lake. When Carter exited his vehicle and pointed his shotgun at me I pulled the ol’ duck-and-turn maneuver and provided us all with about 30 seconds of really memorable video. In the end, Robert Carter was shot multiple times (and lived) and the good guys all went home.

When my cruiser plunged into the 30-degree water I remember trying to look out the back windows to see if I could see where Carter was. Because of the cage and the angle of my car in the water, I couldn’t see anything. Training kicked in. Survive. I figured if I was going to get shot that day it wasn’t going to be sitting in my car, so I opened my door and climbed out. Gun out, I found myself standing waist deep in the cold water when I spotted Carter plunge into the water himself some 40-50 feet away. When he turned towards us and raised his gun I felt machine-like as I fired in defense of my friends and myself. It wasn’t unlike many of the times I had envisioned myself having to pull the trigger, and yet, I had never pictured myself driving into a lake and firing at someone standing in freezing water. There was auditory exclusion, some tunnel vision, and lots of stress. But there was the goal at the end. Win and live.

Nine months later I found myself at 24th and Pratt working overtime at the Native Omaha Days celebration. I was standing and talking with two sergeants when a shot rang out not more than 30-35 feet from us in a crowd of people. Twenty seconds later I was on top of a young man who’d just been shot, securing him in handcuffs after my second officer-involved shooting in less than a year.

The circumstances couldn’t have been more different. Daytime, as opposed to night. A backdrop of a clear, wide-open lake as opposed to a neighborhood, with houses in the backdrop and people around us literally running and screaming everywhere. Having a 15-minute pursuit as a grace period in order to build myself up and prepare for the inevitable shootout and then having the other last – from the first shot fired to the handcuffing of the suspect – less time than it takes for me to tie my shoes. Talk about two extremes.

Looking back, there is one reason why I was able to withstand cycling through multiple adrenaline dumps, going from zero to Def-con 5 in half a second and still feel like I was on the range. Preparation. I hope none of you is ever forced to shoot at another human being.

However, I pray that each of you finds some truth in my words here and prepare yourselves for just in case.

Keep your head down.

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