Years ago, I was a police detective. I more or less liked my job; it wasn't nearly the way TV shows make out detective work to be, but it had it's moments. One day, however, while on duty, I was attacked and got in a hand to hand conflict with a man. He didn't come out of it alive. I went through all the legal process that followed that, it was ruled self defense, and I suffered no consequences. Shortly afterwards, I resigned. My coworkers thought that I left because of the weight of having the man's blood on my hands. Indeed, I had been preoccupied the event, and they thought it was because I was broken up over it. I wasn't. That is what was on my mind, why I was preoccupied. … Read entire article »