23 Days

Copyright 2012 by Ty Gray. All rights reserved.

Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage or retrieval system without permission in writing from the author. eBook Pre-Release Edition of Chapter 1 (Subject to change in actual release)

Note to the Reader

This is a work of non-fiction. In some instances the names of characters, locations, dates, entities, and other details are the product of the authors imagination to protect the identities and privacy of those discussed in this book. This story does not reflect

23 Days official accounts, policy, or position of the police departments. Opinions, facts, and stories written in this book are completely those of the author and in no way should be interpreted as those of the Kokomo Police Department

Introduction
I was born into the MTV Generation in a Midwestern city, that claimed the title City of Firsts. It was a typical industrial city where Chrysler and Delphi held us together, with typical mid-sized city challenges. I grew up in an area the Police Department referred to as District 3, but to those of us who lived there, it was just the North End. The North End was similar to any other neighborhood you might find in a Midwestern city. It wasnt quite the hard streets of Detroit or Chicago, but we had our fair share of crime and lower-income housing. When Momma tried to sell our home, it appraised in the low twenties. But this isnt a story about a typical kid growing up in a typically Midwestern neighborhood. Nor is it a story about the struggle to survive or desire to escape. This is my story about the pursuit of the dream, right here in Kokomo, Indiana, a city that was nearly destroyed by a tornado in the sixties. The dream? To become a Kokomo police officer. But the journey turned out to be as unpredictable as the path of a tornado. 23 Days is a story of persistence, hope, disappointment and, ultimately, the incredible freeing power of forgiveness. Go ahead, climb into the passenger seat. Im taking you on a ride-along.

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Acknowledgments
Special thanks to My advisor, mentor, and coach, Howard Klausner, movie producer and writer of The Grace Card and writer of Space Cowboys. Your preliminary review gave me ample inspiration not only to share my story, but construct a powerful ending. Howie although you started out as a complete stranger, you are now my friend. I will always be grateful to you for your resilient belief in me and my future. Also the freelance team at Greysen Media House. You all helped make this book possible. You all took the raw story and helped me shape it into a publishable book that shines. My silent partner. If it wasnt for you I would have never learned how to shoot and none of this would have been possible. Thank you Officer Fossil. If I make it big in business, youre hired. You can be my driver and body guard. Link and Eddie. You guys believed in me at my lowest point in life. You didnt write me off. I couldnt be more honored to call you men my best friends.

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My kinfolk. Although, I may not always tell you, I really do appreciate all your support. Every last one of you. Brothers and sisters. Nieces and nephews. Aunt Lo and Uncle Rose. My cousins. And my two littles Sharde and T.J. When my niece, asked Sharde (who was four at the time) what the title of my book was called. Sharde responded, Shut the Front Door. It was her honest effort. All my loyal fans and supporters. Including, but not limited to: Lacey Dee Rudolph head of Lacey DEEzigns, Buffy Hedrick, Jeremiah Collier, Karen D. Johnson, Benita Tyler, Janice L. Hart, Chris Bryant, Joy Caraveo-Warren, Mary Curry, Missy Sutton, Jeff Sirmons, Janet Burnett, Rita Woodard McCoy, and Amanda Beasley. I couldnt name each fan by name but you guys and gals supported me from the very beginning, before the first rough draft was even complete. No matter how many times I pushed the release date back you folks were tolerant. If it wasnt for you, I wouldnt have completed the book. Thank you for your support. Lastly, recognition is deeply owed to the reallife colleagues at the police department portrayed in this book. With so many names I cannot publicly acknowledge all of you, but you know who you are. Some of you were on the sidelines with me while I was on the quest to be hired, throughout my rookie year, and even while putting this book together. Thank you.

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God bless you all.

ITH MY FOOT on the gas and my hands clenching the steering wheel, I sped toward downtown Kokomo. Traffic picked up. My adrenaline spiked. How would it all go down? The feeling was eerily similar when responding to 911 calls, but this time, I felt like the victim. Halfway to the station, I placed a call to Sergeant Aaron Jones. He answered after a few rings. I took a deep breath. Hey, Sarge, this is Tyrone. Sorry I missed your calls. I slept in late this morning. Im on my way to the station. The chief wants to see you in his office. The closer I came to the department, the more red lights I caught. Finally, I arrived and squeezed my black Impala into one of the rare vacant spots on the east lot which, like any other morning, was completely packed with city employee and civilian vehicles. After all the rushing, the panic to get there fast, I sat behind the wheel in a daze, looking through the windshield, engine still running.

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Would I be better off listening silently to what the chief had to say, or should I just interrupt him? Could I control my emotions? A muddle of conflicting thoughts filled my head. I killed the engine and got out of my sedan, trudged into City Hall by way of the southeast glass doors, and took the elevator up to the second floor. Capt. Jay Fischer met me near the common area. He invited me into his office while we waited for the chief. Tyrone, the chief wants to talk to you about your future. I have an idea how this thing works, I replied. We waited in silence for a moment. When the chief returned, Captain Fischer and I walked across the common area and entered the chiefs office. I stood tall, confident on the outside, but on the inside my stomach clenched. I surveyed the office. Major Toliver and Sergeant Jones were already there, sitting on the couch against the side wall. Capt. Fischer and I stood in front of the chiefs desk. Four against one. All the power Id felt while driving to the department evaporated. The chief gestured to the straight-back chairs in front of his desk, and I settled all 126 pounds of myself into one of them, feeling like a peon - a tiny peon - surrounded by the brass. I knew what the Chief wanted to talk about. He wanted to discuss my last twenty-three days on the beat. Twenty-three days. How a life can turn in twentythree days. The tornado was about to touch down.

ome folks call me Tyronie. Others call me Kokomo, Ty, Kane, Tyrone, Mista Gray, and a few even continue to refer to me as Officer Gray or the police. I gladly answer to them all. Prior to my birth, my

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parents had made a deal that if I was a boy, my pops would get to choose my name. He named me after Tyrone Power, a stage and film actor from the 1930s through the 1950s. Momma was forty-five years old, and my pops was fifty-five when I was born in 1985. I was the last of her six children. With my nearest sibling eighteen years older, it was as if I were an only child. I was a miracle baby, as Momma would have been quick to say. While she was pregnant with me, the doctor told my mother that she had to choose between her life and mine. Momma declared, I would rather die giving life than live knowing I have taken one. Fortunately, we both made it. The doctor said Momma was lucky to be alive. After that, Momma retired from the Chrysler transmission plant to be a stay-at-home mom. She brought me up in church, but since she was disabled, she couldnt always go herself. On those Sundays she made me catch the Sunday school bus. I faithfully went every week. Momma raised me with the help of my sisters. When I went places with Momma and either sister, people assumed that my sister was my mother and Momma was my granny. Not only was that annoying, it was embarrassing. What kid wants people to think his mom is his granny? I sure didnt. My two older brothers had their own lives, but they werent a big part of my life. Old-fashioned with bad nerves, would be a mild description of my mother. Momma had a security screen door installed at our home. It locked from the inside with a key. She kept it locked, to prevent me from sneaking out of the house. I wasnt allowed to play at either of the neighborhood parks; they were known as being breeding grounds for fights and the dangerous drug game. Instead, Momma made me stay inside and read books - nerdy reference works like the encyclopedia or the dictionary, mostly. But what I really enjoyed was

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reading the sales circulars, especially the ones from Radio Shack. When I saw a cool gadget in an ad, I would call the store and ask every question I could come up with about the device. If I didnt think the sales associate knew what he was talking about, I would call a different location. Momma set my curfew earlier than the other neighborhood kids. This led to my very first encounter with the KPD. One July 4th I stayed out past dark and Momma called the police on me. Momma had me believing I was going to the Kinsey Center for breaking curfew. When the officer arrived at our home, he said, Maam, hes a good kid. Most kids are uncooperative when we arrive or theyre still out missing. He didnt know that somewhere inside of this good kid, a childhood daydream to one day become a Kokomo police officer was taking shape. Thankfully, the officer didnt take me in. It wouldnt be for many years before I realized what this meant (besides his good judgment of my character:) no paperwork. My pops worked for the Elks Club as a bartender. He lived alone in a flat on the south side of the city. Prior to bartending, hed served in the armed forces during the Korean War. Pops was a drinker. Was he an alcoholic? I dont know. I do know this: when he had a few beers in him he really enjoyed singing. Pops would come by to visit, set money on the coffee table for Momma to use for me, and be out the door before shed put it in her purse. I was not his top priority. Even so, during the few times when my pops was around, I was always happy to see him. I had a wide range of interests as a child, and at the top of that list was electronics, specifically cell phones. My list included a few typical childhood interests like playing cops and robbers but also a few not-so-typical interests, like business. I sold Momma on the idea of

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buying me a computer when I was 8 and a cell phone by 9. Eight years old and I was already a little business tycoon. The school district decided that a few students from my neighborhood would be bused to a different middle school on the south side of town. I was one of those few. Presumably this was to diversify the schools and encourage more communication among the social classes. I didnt care about being diversified. I cared about going to school downtown with the people from my neighborhood, my real peers. I considered myself pretty independent then, but suddenly, instead of walking eight blocks to school with my friends, I now had to ride one of those foul yellow buses. I was being forced to go to a new school with kids I didnt know and I didnt like it. I had nothing against diversity. I just didnt want to be its pawn. My first day was one of new teachers, a new culture, and even some new friends. All the newness seemed so overwhelming. But the situation also presented me with an opportunity to re-brand myself, which would surely help me gain acceptance. A lot of the kids had teased me back in elementary school. They told me I acted like Steve Urkel. In case you havent heard of Urkel, he was the pestering nerd from the TV show Family Matters. I felt like a loser. Now I could aim high and be the new hip kid in middle school. I was cool for exactly four hours. That coolness came to a screeching halt at lunch-time when I had to interact with other students. After lunch we were allowed recess time. My new temporary friends, the cool kids, wanted me to go outside to play basketball with them. Take note: my middle school was predominately White. I have a sneaking suspicion my new White friends had assumed that just because I was Black I could shoot hoops.

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After one of my shots completely missed the goal and hit a teammate in the head, that assumption was history. I had been exposed, and before the first day had ended, I was once again Steven Q. Urkel. After my failed attempt at cool, I promptly aligned myself with fellow nerds and outcasts and resigned myself to endure continued my middle school career as little more than a walking pocket protector. Now, when I refer to myself as nerdy, Im not talking about academics. Fact: not all nerds are geniuses. I was one of these non-academic nerds. I also wasnt much of an athlete. Yet, regardless of what my fellow peers thought or said, I knew, deep down, that there was more to me than a label. In my last year of middle school, I decided to turn my old fifth-grade hobby of printing business cards for classmates into an official home-based business. I called my new venture TMCP, which initially stood for Tyrones Multi-Color Printing. Working from my mothers living room, I became a provider for business cards, letterheads, return address labels, fliers, and basic graphic and website design. My customer base included not only students but also local small businesses. I was able to launch TMCP with a Windows based desktop PC, an inkjet printer, and a small Xerox photocopy machine. When I first started high school, the hated bus journey only got longer. That meant I had to get up even earlier than during my middle school years. More than a few mornings I woke up late and the alwaysprompt bus driver, Carl, had already put the bus into gear and started driving by the time I arrived to the bus stop. I had to chase the bus. Sometimes I would jump onto my bike and pedal as hard as I could to the next stop. There I would throw my bicycle down on the ground and leave it until after school, hoping it would still be there at the end of the

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day. If I didnt catch the bus at all, I would get an earful from my youngest sister Sharie. Boy, if you would have taken your ass to bed on time, you would have woke up! shed rant, as she reluctantly dropped me off at school. I started high school as CEO and founder of, TMCP, which, eventually, became an acronym for my companys mission statement: Timely service, Modern technology, Computer-savvy representatives, Printing positive results. Suddenly I wasnt an outcast or a nerd anymore. Well, maybe still a nerd, but a nerd with an entrepreneurial vision. In my first semester of high school, my focus was not on girls, video games, the locker room, or even my grades. My focus was most definitely my business. Embracing my new identity, I often wore business suits to school, and I networked with teachers in the business department. Around October 2000, when I was freshman, I realized that if I wanted my business to grow (and the public to take me seriously) I had to look into the idea of expanding outside of my home. At my young age, I didnt have access to credit or banks, nor did I have much self-made capital. I therefore began a quest to locate an angel investor - is someone to provide startup capital in exchange for ownership equity. I told one of my older brothers about my venture, and he volunteered to be that angel investor. Before launching my storefront, I went to the local Chamber of Commerce where I met Miss Street, the chamber director. She became a mentor to me, and encouraged me. She went beyond her job description to educate me about the business world. So at the age of fifteen, I launched a business on the downtown square. My specialty was providing quick turnaround times and affordable pricing. In addition to printing services, I offered wireless products and

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services, as an authorized agent for TracFone Wireless, VoiceStream Wireless (now T-Mobile), and Verizon Wireless. (Since I was not of age, my mother had to sign most of the legal paperwork for me to become an agent.) In addition, I also sold wireless accessories such as car chargers, leather cases, and pagers. Yes pagers, those black square boxes that beep and display a number that you need to call back. I received local, state, and even some national media coverage and not because of some genius marketing plan that I created, but simply because of my young age. Black Enterprise for Teens magazine featured an article covering my business. I was also a guest on Inside Indiana Business, a TV show that aired in my state. During the second semester of my freshman year, I withdrew from traditional school and enrolled in a correspondence high school program so I could be present at my business during the day. But with all my energies invested in my business, I blew off my second semester. I didnt earn a single credit. Although I dreaded the idea of sitting in a classroom again, after one semester of correspondence, I returned to Kokomo High School. Juggling business with school was challenging. Not only did I have to worry about getting assignments completed on-time at school, I also had to be concerned with business concerns like managing operating costs, providing great customer service, and dealing with a lack of social connection. We didnt have Facebook back then. Even so, I never let my age discourage me from chasing business. I was too nave to consider my age to be a negative attribute. Sometimes being nave can work out to your advantage. I made the most of my determination to succeed.

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Yet, regardless of my success, I was met with an equal share of hardships. On Saturday, December 15, 2001, I received a telephone call at my business from my oldest brother Wayne. His voice was sad and grief-stricken. He said seven words to me. Seven words I will never forget. You know what happened with Momma, right? My heart-beat quickened. Tyrone? my brother asked. Instead of answering him, I dropped the phone, turned off the red-and-blue neon OPEN sign, locked the door, started my moped, and raced to Mommas house. As I drove up, I saw a Kokomo police car with its red and blue flashing emergency lights illuminating the faces of several family members, including my niece, my sister, and one of my brothers. I ran onto the front porch and saw my mother lying on the floor in the entryway to the living room. Her eyes were shut, her body was stiff, and her face was breathless. She was gone. My mother had passed away at home, alone, around 1:00 according to the coroner. Mommas was the first dead body Id seen that wasnt on TV. She was sixty-one years old. I was just sixteen. I later learned that diabetes played a role in her death. Overcome with emotion, I began shedding tears and walked off. I wandered down the middle of Ohio street toward the Markland mall. By the time I arrived near the intersection of Ohio and Vaile streets, a neighborhood buddy of mine, Brandon pulled up in a vehicle beside me. He saw that I was crying and apparently knew what was wrong. He forced me into his car and drove me over to Sharies house. I had been living at Sharies since the beginning of summer due to my mothers worsening health conditions. Once I got to her house, I cried myself to sleep, waking up hours later in her bed. After my mothers death I continued to stay with Sharie and my niece, Antoinique. It was a struggle to

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deal with the loss while going to school and running a business. I had stress coming from every angle. Id lost the woman who had been my foundation and rock. I needed to grieve, but I was anxious to move on with life and get into the workforce, so I tried to cope quickly. One way that I coped with my loss was focusing on my plans after graduation. In August 2002, I began my Junior year of high school. It was in Mrs. Becks biology class that I made friends with a skateboarder kid named Alex Ramos. Alex was a sophomore and a year younger than me. We came from two very different neighborhoods. He lived on the northwest side of town, I grew up on the northeast. At the time, some would argue the northeast was was the worst place to live. Despite how the newspapers sometimes portrayed it, my neighborhood couldnt compare to big city ghettos, even on the worst day. However, it was one of the higher crime areas for the city. Outside of skateboarding, Alex enjoyed hanging out, playing Call of Duty, and keeping it simple. Although we grew up under different circumstances and didnt have a lot in common, although we both had minority backgrounds and shared the desire to become policemen. While my family had neutral feelings toward the police department, Alexs had created a legacy within the KPD. Not long after I met Alex, I met that legacy. I met the entire Ramos family. Alexs dad, Link Sr., and oldest brother, Link Jr., were both policeman. Link Jr. had been a policeman in Florida, but had come back to Kokomo to continue on in the police force with his father. The friendship between Link Jr. and I all started one day when he telephoned me about a computer problem he was having. Alex must have told that I was smart with computers.

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Link Jr. said his computer was running slowly, so I recommended that he add more memory. He then asked me to stop over at his house to explain what I meant and help him order whatever part he needed. Once I arrived there, he said, Hey Tyrone, I dont know anything about computers. I trust you know what youre talking about. Can you install whatever I need? In a couple of days Im leaving for vacation. Of course, not a problem, I replied. Are you sure you know how? Yep. Ive done it before. Youre not going to mess up my computer? No. Its as easy as putting batteries in a remote control. I had imagined that Link Jr. would set up a time for me to come over and install the memory when he got back in town. It was a ten minute job, if that. Instead, he handed me his key and told me to install the RAM after FedEx delivered it. All I could think in that moment was, this cop isnt very streetwise. In my neighborhood, people didnt just pass out their house keys to someone they barely knew. I could have stolen all of his belongings or thrown a house party and invited the folks from my old neighborhood. I didnt, of course. But I had been wrong about Link: he did know the streets. I questioned him later about why he trusted me. He said, I can tell a good person when I see them. Plus my bro wouldnt be friends with someone who couldnt be trusted. The friendship I developed with Link Jr. grew stronger than the one I had with his brother Alex. In fact, Link Jr. and I eventually became best friends. This friendship, along with other elements, helped spark a post-graduation goal of becoming a Kokomo Police Officer. One of those other elements was my relationship with Link Sr., who had become a role model

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in my life. Senior gave me a number of long mentoring father-son talks in his garage during high school and even after. I considered Link Sr. and his wife, Lorna, my parents. Also while I was in high school, I befriended Officer Eddie Forestal, who had been hired by the Kokomo PD because of a government funded program that allowed him to go straight to police academy after graduating from college. Hearing about this was music to my ears. I did several ride-alongs with both Eddie and Link during the midnight and afternoon shifts throughout my high school years. One of my favorite ride-alongs was with Eddie. It was a midnight shift on a school night. We were on patrol when one of Eddies co-workers, Officer Tombaugh, suddenly keyed up to dispatch. 340: 340 Kokomo. Dispatch: Go ahead 340. 340: Can you TX the clerk at Sallys on Apperson and Morgan to make sure shes code 4? (meaning stable) Dispatch: Im clear. Standby. Officer Tombaugh, who was parked across from Sallys, had seen two guys run out of the store and into a van. Seconds after his radio transmission to dispatch, the robbery tones sounded over the police radio, followed by the hyped up dispatchers voice, All cars be advised, a robbery just occurred at Sallys Wine & Spirits. Dispatch: 340 are you clear? 340: Affirmative. Ill be following a van with the suspects in the east/west alley just north of Sallys until more units get up here. 360: 360 Kokomo Im en route. Eddie flipped the switch to activate his emergency lights. Without warning, he busted a sharp right turn onto Purdum street from Jefferson. I could hear the six

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cylinder engine kicking up in the car. He put the pedal to the metal and gunned it to Monroe, turned right on Monroe and took it all the way down to Locke. He then busted a left turn onto Locke street. We bounced over the railroad tracks, then floored it the rest of the way down to North and waited at the intersection of North and Locke. My adrenaline was pumping rapidly as my lightweight body squirmed around in my seat. Dude put your seatbelt on! Eddie commanded. Click. Within a minute or two, we were at the four-way intersection with the suspects van heading straight toward us. Officer Tombaugh was right behind it, and then he initiated a felony traffic stop. Eddie jumped out of his patrol car using his drivers side door for cover and his Glock .40 pistol extended in his hand for protection. There were police cruisers blocking off all sides of the intersection. I will never forget the scene. Every officer on sight had the suspects in the van at gunpoint. I was in the midst of the action without a bullet-proof vest. Because the setup wasnt textbook style, there was definitely potential for crossfire. At the time, I didnt know how much danger I was in. I was just stoked about being in the middle of it. I felt like I was a KPD officer. Within seconds, the three suspects in the van were arrested and one of them was thrown into the backseat of Eddies squad car. Eddie looked back at the suspect and said, Hey man whats your name? Ax Tyrone. I aint tellin you shit. Let his bitch-ass snitch! Eddie then turned his head to look me square in the eye. You know him? he asked. Yea, thats Terrance Wilson. He goes to my school. Mannn! He goes to your school? Yeah, he does.

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The next day at school, everyone was talking about the robbery, but I kept to myself with the inside scoop. After that call I decided to take the same path Eddie had, and I applied for the police corps program. In order to gain acceptance into the program, I was required to obtain two professional recommendations. I went first to one of my business teachers. His name was Mr. Cooper, but like everyone else, I called him Coop. He was as just much of a comedian as he was a teacher. Mr. Cooper wrote: I have known Tyrone Gray for three years. During this time he has been a student in my Marketing, Business Law, and Entrepreneurship classes. In each and every one of these classes he has performed well above average, had a good attendance and had been very cooperative. Tyrone especially liked the criminal sections of the law class. He was inquisitive, and participated in class discussions. He has always had an intense interest in criminal justice and it is obvious in his actions and demeanor. He has participated in the police cadet program sponsored by the citys police department. He is proud of his affiliation with the program and makes NO EXCUSES when questioned about his participation by other students. He is proud to have chosen this as his career goal. Tyrone is a very focused young man, knows what he wants and is willing to sacrifice to attain his goal. He would make a fine addition to your program and should be considered for admission. He will do well and be an asset to the community and a great role model for other students in the future. One down, one to go. With that type of recommendation, I thought I was a shoe-in for acceptance. I didnt want to go to Mr. Minton, my other business teacher because I didnt want the recommendations coming from the same organization. I pondered this a little and decided to ask Link Sr.

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After getting his recommendation, I completed the rest of the application and mailed it in. A short time later, I was notified via mail that I had been accepted into the program. With this good news, I was assured that I would be a cop and maybe even at my dream police department. Years went by, and as my twentyfirst birthday approached, I received a letter stating that due to financial constraints and budget cuts, the program had ended. However, I stayed strong and continued working towards my dream. One of my goals for TMCP was to franchise the idea, but prior to my senior year, personnel at my high school suggested that I either keep my business open and get my GED or shut it down and re-open one later. My attendance was horrible and this was dramatically affecting my grades. Although a GED would satisfy the education requirements for being hired by the KPD, education was important to me. I decided then that I would make school a priority. I wanted to walk across that stage at graduation. I could get back in business after school. I had two post-graduation career paths in mind: business and law enforcement. Fall of 2003 brought the start of my senior year, and since Id closed my printing business, I began working part time at a mall department store as a commissioned salesperson in their appliance and electronic departments, which were referred to as brand central. For the first time in my life, I was working for someone else. Working at the mall was certainly a lot less stressful than running my own business. My senior year went by fast, and on the evening of, May 28, 2004, I walked across that graduation stage with my peers. And that is about all I did that night because I hadnt yet earned my diploma yet, the result of falling behind in school. I would eventually get it, though, after attending summer school.

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After graduation, most of the graduating class attended the Final Fling dance. I can count myself among the few of who skipped the event. Eddie, who by this time had become a good friend, invited me to do another ride-along instead. Unfortunately, it was a slow night. A short time later, I hosted my graduation openhouse at the Hampton Inn. My oldest sister, Debbie, made a scrapbook for me to show to my guests. It listed some of my career and life goals: to attend college in the fall of 2004, to major in business, to get hired by the Kokomo Police Department, to start another successful company, and to eventually become a millionaire. While some of my peers were out celebrating their graduation by getting drunk (fake IDs were common back then), I choose not to drink. Im sure my graduation party might have seemed tame, by comparison to other parties, but I thought it was just about perfect. The gathering had quite a turnout. Several police officers even showed up. I felt good. What other students could say they had police officers at their party? I mean, apart from officers responding to a disturbance. The officers that attended my party believed in me. They would be the same officers who watched me on my journey. An officer who Id ridden along with a few times in high school, Officer Fossil, showed up with his wife. Little did I know, Officer Fossil would become a silent mentor during my journey by sharing wisdom on various topics including how to overcome my fear of the loud noise a gun makes, and, perhaps even more importantly, how to shoot. After my time in high school, I continued my education by enrolling in the Lumina Summer Transition Program offered by Indiana University Kokomo. The program was designed to transition students from high

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school to college. During my session, I studied Folklore. While in the program, I wrote the following note: In five years I want to be completing my rookie year as a patrolman at the Kokomo Police Department. My long range goal is to start a business revolving around law enforcement. In order to achieve my goals I have to keep my nose clean. I need not to get involved in drugs or alcohol. I need to get and keep high integrity standards to live by. At the end of my summer session, I had a few weeks off, and then I began my college career as a freshman. I began studying pre-business at Indiana University. I was off and running toward my career goals.