What I Would Do Differently If I Had to Leave Law Enforcement Again

On September 8, 2022, I put on my gun and badge for the last time. After 2,652 days as a deputy sheriff, my career on the Thin Blue Line was over. I had served on patrol, worked in community policing, represented my agency as a Public Information Officer, supervised recruiting and background investigations, and earned a promotion to Sergeant. Along the way, I was honored to receive two Life Saving Awards and be named the 2019 Virginia Deputy Sheriff of the Year. I had experienced more during those seven years than many people will experience in an entire lifetime, and I had served alongside some of the most dedicated, courageous, and selfless professionals I have ever known.

Law enforcement gave me a tremendous sense of purpose and allowed me to help people during some of the worst moments of their lives. It also exposed me to tragedy, violence, long hours, constant pressure, and the darker side of humanity. I responded to gruesome crime scenes, suicides, domestic violence incidents, mental health crises, serious crashes, and countless other calls for service. I saw friends and colleagues injured in the line of duty, and I experienced the stress and exhaustion that are so common among those who spend their careers protecting others. By the time I left, I was burned out. I was mentally and physically exhausted, increasingly frustrated with the direction of my career, and ready to experience something new.

At the time, I believed the most difficult part of the transition would be making the decision to leave. Once I finally accepted that I wanted another career, I assumed the rest of the process would be fairly straightforward. I would find a job, resign from my agency, turn in my equipment, and move into the private sector. In reality, deciding to leave was only the beginning. I still needed to determine what I wanted to do, understand how my law enforcement experience translated into a completely different professional environment, evaluate employers, compare compensation and benefits, prepare my family for a major lifestyle change, and come to terms with losing an important part of my identity.

I did some things well during my transition. I had the support of my wife, family, and friends. I had built a strong professional network through my time overseeing recruiting and managing my agency’s presence on LinkedIn. I had also identified recruiting as something I enjoyed and could realistically see myself doing outside law enforcement. Those advantages helped me land my first corporate position and gave me a direction that many transitioning officers do not have.

I also made plenty of mistakes. I focused too heavily on salary, failed to fully investigate my benefits before resigning, overlooked warning signs about the company I was joining, and rushed directly from my final shift into my new corporate career without giving myself time to decompress. I also underestimated the emotional impact of no longer being a police officer. Looking back, I do not regret leaving law enforcement. That decision eventually led me to start Recruiting Heroes, write two books, teach career-transition courses around the country, and help hundreds of law enforcement professionals prepare for careers beyond the badge. However, if I had to leave law enforcement again, I would approach the process much differently.

I Would Start Preparing Before I Felt Certain About Leaving

One of the most important lessons I have learned is that career-transition preparation should begin before you are completely sure you want to leave. Many officers believe that updating a resume, researching private-sector careers, building a professional network, or earning an outside certification somehow means they are giving up on law enforcement. It does not. Preparing for the future is not the same thing as submitting your resignation. It simply gives you options and prevents you from having to start from scratch when the day eventually comes.

Too many law enforcement professionals wait until they are completely burned out before they begin thinking seriously about life after the badge. By that point, they are no longer calmly and objectively evaluating their choices. They are searching for an escape. They may be frustrated with their agency, angry about a missed promotion, exhausted from working overtime, or simply unable to imagine continuing in the profession for another year. Those emotions are understandable, but they are not always the best foundation for one of the biggest professional and financial decisions of your life.

That was one of my biggest problems. By the time I seriously began pursuing private-sector opportunities, I was ready to move on as quickly as possible. My burnout created a sense of urgency, and that urgency affected my judgment. Instead of carefully comparing companies, roles, leadership teams, cultures, benefits, and long-term advancement opportunities, I became overly excited about the first company that offered me a significant salary increase. I focused on getting out rather than making sure I was moving toward the right opportunity.

If I could do it again, I would begin preparing at least 12 months before my anticipated departure. Ideally, I would start several years earlier. I would update my professional materials, identify several possible career paths, talk with people already working in those industries, and begin positioning myself as a strong private-sector candidate long before I felt pressure to accept a job. The goal would not simply be to leave law enforcement. It would be to enter the next chapter of my career with direction, leverage, and multiple strong options.

I Would Spend More Time Deciding What I Actually Wanted to Do

When officers tell me they want to leave law enforcement, one of the first questions I ask is, “What do you want to do next?” The most common answer is some version of, “I have no idea.” Some officers tell me they want to work in security because it seems like the most obvious transition. Others say they want a remote job, a six-figure salary, or a position that gives them more time with their families. Those are understandable goals, but they are not clear career targets.

“Remote” is a work arrangement, not a profession. “Six figures” is a compensation goal, not an industry. “Security” can mean everything from supervising guards at a single location to managing global physical-security operations for a multinational company. Without a more specific target, it becomes difficult to build the right resume, earn the right certifications, make the right professional connections, or explain to an employer why you are a strong fit for a particular role.

If I had to repeat my transition, I would spend more time learning about the wide range of private-sector jobs available to law enforcement professionals. I would explore corporate recruiting, operations management, program management, fraud prevention, corporate investigations, risk management, physical security, public safety technology, training, compliance, employee relations, intelligence, and business development. I would read job descriptions long before I was ready to apply and take note of the qualifications, technologies, certifications, and terminology that repeatedly appeared.

I would also conduct more informational interviews. I would speak with people working in the roles that interested me and ask what their day-to-day responsibilities actually looked like. I would ask what they enjoyed, what they disliked, how they entered the profession, what challenges surprised them, and what advice they would give someone coming from law enforcement. A job title alone rarely tells you everything you need to know about the reality of a position.

Most importantly, I would separate what I was good at from what I wanted to continue doing. Law enforcement professionals become capable of performing many difficult tasks, but that does not mean they want their next careers to revolve around those same responsibilities. A highly experienced detective may be qualified to conduct corporate investigations but may be completely tired of investigating people. A SWAT commander may be a strong candidate for physical-security leadership but may want a career with no connection to weapons, tactical operations, or emergency response. Your next career should take advantage of your background, but it does not have to recreate your law enforcement career inside a corporation.

I Would Document My Accomplishments While I Still Had Access to Them

Law enforcement professionals are usually not very good at tracking their accomplishments. We remember the major arrests, promotions, awards, and critical incidents, but we often forget the everyday achievements that private-sector employers value. We may not remember how many employees we supervised, how many officers we trained, the size of a budget we managed, the number of applicants we recruited, or the amount of time and money saved by a process we improved.

During the final year of my career, I would create a comprehensive professional inventory. I would document every assignment, specialty position, certification, training course, award, major project, leadership responsibility, and measurable accomplishment from my time in law enforcement. I would review old performance evaluations, commendations, emails, statistics, project documents, training records, and public-facing materials to identify achievements I had forgotten.

I would ask myself questions that forced me to quantify the scope and impact of my work. How many employees did I supervise, train, or mentor? How many investigations did I conduct or oversee? Did I manage a budget, fleet, equipment inventory, training program, recruiting campaign, operational schedule, or specialty unit? Did I create a new process or policy? Did my work increase applications, lower vacancies, reduce crime, improve efficiency, save money, strengthen community engagement, or improve service?

I would gather this information while I still had access to it. Once you leave an agency, it can become much more difficult to locate old performance evaluations, personnel records, project statistics, training documentation, and other details. You may also lose access to agency systems and email accounts that contain valuable reminders of the work you performed.

I would preserve appropriate examples of my work that did not contain confidential, protected, or law-enforcement-sensitive information. These might include public press releases, awards, published articles, training certificates, recruiting materials, public reports, or publicly available statistics showing the results of a program I led. The goal would be to leave with a detailed record of my professional contributions so that I could build a stronger resume, LinkedIn profile, and collection of interview stories. You cannot effectively market achievements you no longer remember.

I Would Learn to Translate My Experience Earlier

During my transition, I initially assumed that private-sector employers would automatically recognize the value of law enforcement experience. After all, police officers make critical decisions, manage emergencies, investigate complex incidents, communicate with people from every imaginable background, write detailed reports, testify in court, train employees, lead teams, coordinate resources, analyze information, and solve problems under significant pressure. I believed that a recruiter would see words like “Sergeant,” “Deputy Sheriff,” or “Field Training Officer” and understand everything behind those titles.

Many will not.

Most private-sector recruiters and hiring managers have never worked in law enforcement. They may not understand the difference between a patrol deputy, detective, corporal, sergeant, lieutenant, or specialty-unit supervisor. They may not know what it takes to manage a critical incident, conduct a complicated investigation, train a new officer, lead a shift, prepare a search warrant, or coordinate a multi-agency response. They are not necessarily dismissing your experience. They may simply lack the context necessary to understand it.

It is not their responsibility to figure it out. It is our responsibility to explain it.

If I had to transition again, I would begin translating my experience long before applying for jobs. Instead of writing that I “supervised patrol operations,” I would explain the number of personnel I led, the geographic area or population we supported, the resources I coordinated, the decisions I made, and the outcomes for which I was responsible. Instead of simply writing that I served as an FTO, I would describe how I trained employees, evaluated performance, documented deficiencies, delivered feedback, recommended corrective action, and determined readiness for independent work.

If I were describing my recruiting experience, I would not stop at saying that I supervised recruiting and background investigations. I would explain the size of the team, the campaigns we developed, the processes we improved, the applicant data we analyzed, the relationships we built, and the results we achieved. Those details would allow a private-sector employer to see my experience in talent acquisition, project management, team leadership, marketing, data analysis, and process improvement.

Your badge and title may have carried tremendous meaning inside your agency. In the private sector, you must communicate the responsibilities, scope, complexity, and results behind them. Simply listing your law enforcement duties is not enough. You must show employers how those experiences will help solve their problems.

I Would Treat Networking as a Long-Term Strategy

Networking was one of the things I did well during my transition, although I did not initially recognize how important it would become. During the final years of my law enforcement career, I managed my agency’s LinkedIn presence and built relationships with law enforcement professionals, recruiters, executives, vendors, and private-sector leaders. Those relationships helped introduce me to the company where I eventually accepted my first corporate position.

Since leaving law enforcement, networking has helped me build Recruiting Heroes, secure speaking opportunities, create partnerships, connect with clients, and meet professionals who have significantly influenced my career. It has opened doors that never would have opened through online applications alone.

If I had to transition again, I would be even more intentional about building those relationships. I would not wait until I needed a job to begin contacting people. When you only reach out after seeing an opening or when you desperately need help, networking can feel forced and transactional. Instead, I would use the final year of my career to consistently build genuine professional relationships with people in the industries that interested me.

Each week, I would connect with professionals working in my target fields. I would engage thoughtfully with their content, ask questions about their experiences, attend professional events, join industry associations, and schedule informational conversations. I would focus on learning and building credibility rather than immediately asking for referrals or job opportunities.

I would also make sure my network extended well beyond law enforcement. Our law enforcement connections are valuable, and many former officers are eager to help others make successful transitions. However, if everyone in your professional network currently wears or once wore a badge, your exposure to private-sector companies, terminology, hiring practices, and opportunities will remain limited.

The objective would not be to ask every person I met for a job. It would be to learn from them, support them, and build real professional relationships before I needed assistance. When the time came to apply, I would no longer be another unknown applicant in a stack of resumes. I would have people inside the industry who knew my background, understood my value, and might be willing to make an introduction.

I Would Look Far Beyond the Salary

When I received my first private-sector offer, the salary immediately caught my attention. It was significantly higher than what I was earning at the Sheriff’s Office, and I was excited about the financial opportunity. I believed the increased salary was clear evidence that I was making a smart move.

I quickly learned that salary tells only part of the story.

Leaving law enforcement meant walking away from a government pension, affordable healthcare, generous leave, supplemental retirement benefits, employment stability, and a take-home cruiser. My healthcare expenses increased approximately fourfold while the quality of the coverage decreased. That increase alone consumed a noticeable portion of my higher salary.

Losing my take-home cruiser also affected our finances more than I expected. During much of my law enforcement career, I rarely drove my personal vehicle. After leaving, the mileage on our Ford Escape increased dramatically, along with fuel costs, maintenance, and wear and tear. A take-home vehicle may not be a strong enough reason to stay in a career you no longer want, but it is still a financial benefit that should be included when comparing total compensation.

I also learned an embarrassing lesson about vesting. My agency offered several supplemental retirement accounts, including a Retirement Health Savings account. A few weeks after leaving, I logged into the account and discovered that thousands of dollars were missing. I assumed there had been a mistake and contacted human resources. There was no mistake. I had resigned before reaching the service requirement necessary to become fully vested in the employer contributions.

Had I reviewed the policy more carefully or spoken with the correct people before leaving, I would have known exactly what I was forfeiting. Instead, I learned after the money disappeared. I had been so focused on leaving and beginning my new job that I failed to fully investigate one of the most important financial consequences of my decision.

I also left with more than 500 hours of unused sick leave. Because I had not reached ten years of service, those hours were not eligible for payout. Fortunately, my agency allowed employees to donate leave, and I was able to give those hours to a fellow deputy who had been shot in the line of duty. I was grateful that the leave could help someone who needed it, but the experience still reinforced how important it is to understand every policy before leaving.

If I had to make the transition again, I would request a complete separation-benefits review from human resources. I would ask for written information about my pension, healthcare, leave payout, supplemental retirement accounts, vesting schedules, life insurance, disability coverage, equipment obligations, and any benefits tied to specific service milestones.

I would compare total compensation rather than salary alone. That comparison would include the new employer’s base salary, bonus potential, retirement match, vesting schedule, healthcare premiums, deductibles, paid leave, commute, vehicle expenses, schedule, professional-development funding, advancement opportunities, and overall job stability. A $20,000 salary increase can disappear quickly when healthcare, transportation, retirement, and other expenses rise.

I Would Investigate the Company as Carefully as It Investigated Me

Law enforcement professionals are trained to investigate, evaluate evidence, identify inconsistencies, and ask difficult questions. Yet, when I received my first corporate offer, I failed to apply those same skills to the company that wanted to hire me.

There were warning signs. The hiring process felt rushed. Employee reviews were poor. The company’s website was outdated. I had questions about the culture, stability, and leadership, but I did not press hard enough for answers. I was so ready to leave law enforcement that I focused more on being selected than determining whether the company was the right place for me.

That is a common mistake among job seekers. We often approach interviews as though the employer has all the power. We believe our only responsibility is to impress the interviewers, answer their questions correctly, and convince them to extend an offer. In reality, an interview should be a two-way evaluation. The company is deciding whether it wants to hire you, but you should also be deciding whether you are willing to entrust that company with your livelihood, career development, time, and family’s financial stability.

If I could repeat the process, I would thoroughly research every employer I considered. I would examine its website, leadership team, financial condition, employee reviews, recent news, products, services, reputation, turnover, and long-term direction. I would look for patterns rather than allowing one positive or negative review to control my opinion.

I would connect with current and former employees and ask respectful but direct questions. What is leadership really like? Why is the position open? How long did the previous person remain in the role? How is employee performance measured? What causes people to leave? Does the company promote from within? Have there been recent layoffs or major reorganizations? What do employees wish they had known before accepting their offers?

During interviews, I would ask what success should look like during the first 30, 60, and 90 days. I would ask what problems the new employee would be expected to solve, what training and resources would be provided, and how the position fits into the company’s broader strategy. I would pay attention not only to the answers but also to whether the interviewers seemed aligned with one another.

Most importantly, I would be willing to walk away. A job offer can feel like powerful validation, especially after spending months wondering whether your law enforcement experience has value outside the profession. However, the wrong opportunity can create financial stress, damage your confidence, and place you in another environment you are desperate to leave. Waiting a little longer for a better opportunity may be far wiser than accepting the first offer simply because it allows you to resign.

Ironically, my imperfect first corporate experience eventually helped inspire me to create Recruiting Heroes and discover a greater purpose. I am grateful for where the journey ultimately led me, but that does not mean I would recommend repeating my decision-making process.

I Would Prepare My Family for the Entire Lifestyle Change

Leaving law enforcement did not affect only me. It affected my wife, our finances, our insurance, our transportation, our daily schedule, and our vision for the future. One of the best decisions I made was including my wife throughout the process. We had numerous conversations over several months and ultimately made the decision together. Her support became even more important after I left, when I experienced doubts and began processing the emotional reality of no longer being a police officer.

If I had to transition again, I would make those family conversations even more detailed. We would calculate our expected take-home pay after accounting for the new healthcare plan, retirement contributions, taxes, and commuting costs. We would discuss the possibility of a layoff, something far less common in law enforcement than in many private-sector industries. We would determine how much emergency savings we wanted before I resigned and how the transition might affect childcare, vacations, major purchases, and long-term retirement plans.

We would also discuss the emotional side of the transition. Your family may be relieved that you are leaving a dangerous and stressful profession, but that does not mean the adjustment will be easy. You may be physically home more often while remaining mentally distracted. You may miss the camaraderie, authority, excitement, structure, and sense of mission that came with the job. You may question whether you made the right decision even after accepting a good opportunity.

Your spouse and family should understand that leaving law enforcement is much more than changing employers. It is a major identity and lifestyle transition. Their support will be important not only when you make the decision but also during the months that follow.

I Would Prepare for the Loss of Identity

More than a month after leaving law enforcement, I was getting dressed for my corporate job. I was tired and moving through my morning routine on autopilot. Without thinking, I reached toward the hook where my gun belt had hung for years.

There was nothing there.

In that moment, the full weight of my decision finally hit me. I was no longer a deputy sheriff. I would never again put on that gun belt and head out for a shift. A career that had shaped my identity, friendships, routines, values, and view of the world was over. It was a heavy day filled with reflection and a real sense of loss.

Most former officers will eventually experience their own version of that moment. It may happen when they see a cruiser running code, hear former coworkers discussing a major incident, clean out a closet filled with uniforms, or realize they no longer know what is happening inside their old agency. It may happen when someone asks what they do for a living and they instinctively begin to say, “I’m a police officer,” before remembering that they are not anymore.

I underestimated that part of the transition. I knew I would miss my friends and certain aspects of the profession, but I did not fully appreciate how much being a deputy sheriff had become part of who I was. Law enforcement is not a normal job. The uniform, oath, responsibility, danger, camaraderie, and experiences create an identity that can be difficult to separate from the individual.

If I had to do it again, I would begin strengthening my identity beyond law enforcement before leaving. I would invest more time in my family, friendships, health, hobbies, community, and professional interests that were not tied to wearing a badge. I would remind myself that being a law enforcement officer was something I did and an important part of who I became, but it was never the entirety of who I was.

Leaving the profession does not erase your service. You will always carry the experiences, lessons, relationships, and pride that came from standing on the Thin Blue Line. However, you must also give yourself permission to become something new.

I Would Take Time to Decompress Before Starting the Next Career

I worked my final law enforcement shift on a Friday and started my corporate job the following Monday. If I had to do it again, I would not make that same decision.

At the time, beginning immediately seemed responsible. I did not want to lose income, and I was eager to prove myself in my new position. In reality, I carried years of stress and exhaustion directly into an unfamiliar environment where I needed to learn new terminology, technology, expectations, relationships, and cultural norms.

I had no time to process the end of my law enforcement career. I never gave myself an opportunity to rest, reflect, or reset. One chapter ended on Friday, and another began Monday morning as though I had simply changed schedules.

If financially possible, I would create at least a one- or two-week break between careers. I would spend time with family, sleep, exercise, organize my home office, prepare for the new role, and allow myself to recognize the significance of what had happened. Even a few days would have helped me separate the two careers and begin the new one with greater energy and clarity.

Law enforcement conditions us to move immediately from one emergency to the next. Your career transition does not need to follow the same pattern. You do not have to reach complete exhaustion before allowing yourself to rest.

The Final 12 Months of My Career Would Follow a Clear Plan

If I knew I were leaving law enforcement one year from today, I would approach the final 12 months with a deliberate and structured plan rather than trying to complete everything at the last minute.

During the first three months, I would focus on career discovery and financial preparation. I would identify several potential career paths, read dozens of job descriptions, conduct informational interviews, and learn which industries aligned with my skills and interests. I would meet with human resources and a representative from my retirement system to understand every benefit, vesting requirement, leave policy, and financial consequence of leaving. I would also begin increasing my emergency savings to give my family greater flexibility.

During the next two months, I would complete my professional inventory. I would document my assignments, leadership responsibilities, skills, certifications, major projects, awards, and measurable achievements. I would gather performance evaluations, training records, public work samples, and statistics that I might lose access to after leaving.

Around the midpoint of the year, I would begin building my private-sector brand. I would create or completely overhaul my LinkedIn profile, develop a clear civilian-facing headline and summary, and begin consistently connecting with people in my target industries. I would attend virtual and in-person industry events, join relevant professional groups, and schedule conversations with former officers who had successfully transitioned.

With approximately five months remaining, I would finalize my master resume and develop targeted versions for the positions I planned to pursue. I would create a cover-letter framework, build a collection of strong interview stories, and practice explaining my background without relying on law enforcement jargon. I would also complete certifications or training programs that appeared repeatedly in my target job descriptions.

At the three-month point, I would begin a focused application campaign. I would apply for carefully selected positions rather than sending the same resume to hundreds of unrelated openings. For each serious opportunity, I would tailor my materials, research the company, identify potential internal contacts, and follow up professionally.

During the final two months, I would intensify interview preparation and company research. I would practice behavioral questions using the STAR method, prepare thoughtful questions for employers, review compensation and benefits carefully, and speak with current or former employees whenever possible.

During the final weeks, I would make sure the administrative and emotional sides of my departure were handled correctly. I would confirm all benefit decisions in writing, determine exactly when my insurance coverage ended, return equipment, preserve appropriate professional records, and thank the people who shaped my career. I would request an exit interview and provide constructive feedback without turning the conversation into a list of complaints or an opportunity to settle old scores. I would want to leave with professionalism, gratitude, and my reputation intact.

You Do Not Have to Repeat My Mistakes

I am proud of my law enforcement career and thankful for where my transition eventually led me. The difficulties I experienced helped shape my current mission of helping other law enforcement professionals prepare for meaningful careers beyond the badge.

However, success after a difficult transition does not mean the mistakes were necessary.

You do not need to wait until burnout controls your decisions. You do not need to lose money because you misunderstood a vesting schedule. You do not need to accept a questionable job because it is the first company willing to offer you a higher salary. You do not need to discover too late that your healthcare, leave, transportation, retirement, and government benefits were worth far more than you realized.

Most importantly, you do not have to navigate the process alone. Talk with your family. Connect with former officers. Learn from professionals working in the industries that interest you. Ask questions of your human resources and retirement representatives. Build your resume, LinkedIn profile, professional brand, and network before you desperately need them.

The decision to leave law enforcement should never be made impulsively. You worked too hard to build your career, serve your community, and become the professional you are today. Give your next chapter the same preparation, discipline, and commitment that you gave your time in uniform.

Leaving law enforcement will bring uncertainty. There will be parts of the profession you miss and parts you are relieved to leave behind. There may be days when you question your decision, especially when the private sector fails to match the camaraderie, mission, excitement, and stability you once knew.

There will also be new opportunities. You may discover talents you never realized you possessed. You may become a corporate investigator, security leader, program manager, recruiter, consultant, instructor, technology professional, business owner, or something you have not yet considered. You may gain greater control over your schedule, experience new professional challenges, increase your earning potential, spend more time with your family, and discover a renewed sense of purpose.

Your law enforcement career was not wasted time or an experience you must leave behind. It prepared you to make difficult decisions, lead people, investigate problems, communicate under pressure, manage conflict, and persevere through challenges that would overwhelm many others. Those skills still belong to you after the badge is gone.

If I had to leave law enforcement again, I would take more time. I would ask better questions. I would investigate every opportunity. I would calculate the true financial impact. I would prepare my family and myself for the emotional change. I would rest before starting the next chapter.

But I would still believe in what was possible.

You have already proven that you can serve, sacrifice, adapt, and overcome. Now it is time to apply those same qualities to building a life and career beyond the Thin Blue Line.