It was in the morning. I had my usual roll call with the officers of the police department. I brief the officers on the day’s tasks, if there are any, and then conduct a brief training session during roll call. I also ensure they are equipped with the necessary resources before sending them out on the road. I tend to joke a lot with the officers because, in this business, we deal with crisis after crisis—and if you’re unable to keep some sense of humor, then you won’t last long.
I was sitting in the dispatch room talking shop with the dispatchers. One thing about dispatchers: their job is extremely challenging. What the public doesn’t see is what dispatchers go through when they’re on the phone with someone facing a real-life emergency. These dispatchers have to listen to screams that will echo in their minds for the rest of their lives. God bless them.
Back to the story. We received a frantic 911 call from the daughter of an elderly man with dementia. He was 83 years old and had been gone for several hours. It was already warm out, so several officers from my police department rushed to the scene. I got there—being the road sergeant, I was in charge of the entire situation. I parked my cruiser, and the officers were already gathering all the necessary information. I had one officer canvass the neighborhood, looking for any cameras on houses that might give us intelligence on which way he went.
We had very little information at this point, so we had to assume the old man had been gone for several hours. There is a method for conducting searches. Since this man was on foot, we can theorize that he would walk at approximately two miles an hour. So, if we think he’s been gone for six hours, that would mean he could have walked up to twelve miles. That’s a lot of ground to cover, especially since part of the area is wooded.
Time was definitely of the essence now. Every minute wasted was another minute of not finding this man. As the minutes ticked by with limited information, I called in a K9 to assist in the search. We were now about 45 minutes in. We double- and triple-checked the daughter’s house and the neighborhood.
One of the officers approached me and informed me that a neighbor had captured the elderly man on camera walking toward the central area, about two hours before we arrived. This was excellent news—it shortened our search area. I set the officers up to conduct a grid-like search of the entire four-mile radius. Each officer had his or her sector. I told them to check every convenience store, deli, breakfast joint, park—you name it. Anyone walking a dog? Show them the elderly man’s picture. Show the post officer, the mail courier—show them all.
A countywide alert was issued, and he was eventually found by one of our officers a couple of miles from his home. The officer described him as very weak by that point. His family was overjoyed he was found. I learned that he didn’t speak English. His son was at the house, and I had him follow me to his father’s location.
I got out of my cruiser, and the elderly man tried to stand up and give me a salute. His son said he had been in the military from where they were from. After I ensured the man was okay, I checked on my officers. I noticed we had a couple of officers from one of our local jurisdictions who had come out to assist. After I shook hands with one of them—an older, weathered veteran who probably had a year or so left before retirement—he said to me, “Biden’s America.”
I looked back at him with a mix of shock, rage, and then sadness.
Is it because the man did not speak English that this becomes “Biden’s America”? What in the world does that have to do with caring for another human being who has dementia? This was not a violent criminal. This was an innocent man with children who were concerned for him.
I do not blame the officer. I blame the system that created this division in the collective American heart.
At war, you learn real quick about showing love to your fellow man. At war, you learn real quick about the toll it takes to make it home. The inner scars that I came home with made me a much more compassionate man. If you’ve read my work on here, then you know exactly what I mean.
My family escaped two civil wars, and it took us over a decade to get our citizenship here in the U.S. It wasn’t until I went to war and came back that I finally became a U.S. citizen. Both my mother and father still have heavy accents to this day. Is that Biden’s America?
I ask this question: have we lost our humanity?
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Ayman is a combat veteran and seasoned law enforcement leader with over 20 years of operational experience. He served in Iraq as a U.S. Army soldier and translator during the height of the war against Al-Qaeda, gaining firsthand exposure to combat stress and leadership under fire.
In law enforcement, Ayman has worked in diverse high-risk roles including SWAT, DEA Task Force Officer, DEA SRT, plain clothes interdiction, and currently serves as a patrol sergeant. His experience offers deep insight into the physical and psychological demands faced by tactical professionals.
Ayman holds a Master of Science in Counterterrorism (MSC) and is the founder of Project Sapient, a platform dedicated to enhancing performance and resilience through neuroscience, stress physiology, and data-driven training. Through consulting, podcasting, and partnerships with organizations across the country, Project Sapient equips military, law enforcement, and first responders with tools to thrive in high-stress environments.
Follow Project Sapient on Instagram, YouTube, and all podcast platforms for engaging content. Feel free to email Ayman at ayman@projectsapient.com.
Follow Project Sapient on Instagram, YouTube, and all podcast platforms for engaging content.
Contact: ayman@objectivearete.com
Project Sapient: https://projectsapient.com/
YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC8cO-sLPMpfkrvnjcM8ukUQ
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