fom
https://www.nbcnews.com/news/us-news/frank-had-always-wanted-be-cop-everything-changed-when-he-n1062141

Frank had always wanted to be a police officer. Everything changed when
he shot a man in the line of duty.

After he shot a violent man, New York State Trooper Frank Abbott
suffered from PTSD. He says he didn't get help — until a cop named Jim
stepped in.

New York State Trooper Frank Abbott, 29, was diagnosed with post
traumatic stress disorder after an officer-involved shooting in 2018. He
has been unable to return to work since the incident. "This has been the
worst place in my life," he said. "I've found myself wishing that I had
died that night."
New York State Trooper Frank Abbott, 29, was diagnosed with post
traumatic stress disorder after an officer-involved shooting in 2018. He
has been unable to return to work since the incident. "This has been the
worst place in my life," he said. "I've found myself wishing that I had
died that night."Hannah Rappleye / NBC News
Oct. 6, 2019, 4:00 AM PDT
By Hannah Rappleye
WINDSOR, N.Y. — Police officers don't like the word "routine." Any call,
any night that seems routine can suddenly turn bad.

It was one of those nights that changed Frank Abbott's life forever.

On Jan. 2, 2018, Abbott and his partner, both New York state troopers,
attempted to stop a man with an active arrest warrant as he drove
through a residential neighborhood in Binghamton, New York.

The man didn't stop. Instead, he led the officers on a high-speed chase
through snowy streets, nearly striking a child in a stroller before he
crashed into a utility pole. When Abbott and his partner got out of
their vehicles, the man took off again, swerving up onto a sidewalk and
coming to a sudden stop in a parking lot.

The fugitive's car was stuck on a concrete parking block. Abbott
approached the vehicle.

Abbott's memory of what happened next is hard to put back together —
each piece a fragment of the picture. The car as it roared toward him.
The crunch of wheel over bone as the car crushed his ankle. The sight of
the car accelerating toward his partner.

Abbott pulled himself off the ground, raised his gun and fired one
round, striking the man in the face.

"I thought I was going to die," Abbott said. "I was in a state of panic.
But still, my body reacted and I did what I had to do, even though in my
head I felt like, 'I'm not going to make it out of this.'"

To Abbott, it felt like time stood still. His partner was unhurt. The
driver, though gravely injured, sped off again — only to be arrested
after trying to hijack a vehicle.

Abbott recalls little about what happened next. But one memory remains.
As the emergency response vehicles lit up the snow-covered yards, a
woman helped Abbott sit down on a porch and laid a blanket over his
shoulders.

"Oh my god," he thought. "I just shot someone."

Abbott had dreamed of being a state trooper since he was 12 years old.
He was only 28, had just eight years on the job, and planned on serving
at least another 20.

He had no idea how the trauma he experienced that night, and what he
says was his agency's failure to help him recover, would cut that dream
short.

"I felt angry that I spent eight years of my life taking care of
others," Abbott said. "And it took so long to find someone who would
help me."

That someone was another police officer, on patrol nearly 200 miles
away, who had devoted his life to helping cops like Abbott.

"There isn't a cop in this country that I wouldn't work with, go through
a door with and be right by their side," said Jim Banish, 43. "We're in
this fight together."

Every year, the number of police officers who die by suicide outpaces
deaths in the line of duty. No federal agency tracks the data, but one
non-profit estimates that at least 167 police officers died by suicide
last year.

Studies show that first responders suffer from high rates of depression,
anxiety and post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD).

Police officers are exposed daily to the kind of trauma that can trigger
PTSD, from fatal accidents to homicide scenes, but they're often
reluctant to admit they need mental health care because of the stigma.
They're afraid of being discriminated against, of losing their guns and
badges, and their identities. Despite all of that, Abbott, who was
diagnosed with PTSD after the shooting, decided to ask the New York
State Police for help.

Frank Abbott, 29, stands in front of a car stuffed with Halloween
decorations and candy for children at a local church in Binghamton, NY.
Abbott dreamed of becoming a New York State Trooper since he was 12
years old. "I wanted to serve," he said. "I wanted to help."Frank
Abbott, 29, stands in front of a car stuffed with Halloween decorations
and candy for children at a local church in Binghamton, NY. Abbott
dreamed of becoming a New York State Trooper since he was 12 years old.
"I wanted to serve," he said. "I wanted to help."Courtesy Frank Abbott
He didn't get it, he said.

He is now suing the agency and his captain under the Americans with
Disabilities Act, alleging the agency failed to accommodate his PTSD,
and subjected him to relentless harassment to return to work, making his
symptoms worse.

The New York State Police said they could not comment on Abbott's case,
but a spokesperson said that "the health and safety of our members is
always a top priority." The captain did not return requests for comment.

"I wanted to go back to work," Abbott said. "I wanted to heal. I wanted
to get better."

"This has been the worst place in my life," he added. "I've found myself
wishing that I had died that night."

'I needed hope'
That night, after being released from the hospital, Abbott laid awake in
bed.

He felt disassociated from his body. Almost catatonic.

"I just didn't feel anything," he said. "My whole head was spinning. I
shot someone. My job's over. My career's done."

Within 72 hours, the Broome County District Attorney cleared Abbott of
wrongdoing. Ultimately, the man that Abbott shot would plead guilty to
aggravated assault on a police officer. He was sentenced to 12 years in
prison.

But that didn't ease his anxiety.

"Just because my shooting was ruled justified, doesn't mean I'm okay
with what happened," he said. "I don't think humans are meant to hurt
each other."

"Every interview I've ever had they ask, 'If you become a police
officer, will you be willing to use deadly physical force to save your
life, or save the life of someone else, and every time I said, 'Yes,'"
he added. "I knew I could do it. But I didn't know how it would affect
me afterward."

Abbott went on medical leave. He began having night terrors. Loud
noises, the smell of burning rubber and other triggers set off
flashbacks and panic attacks. Some days he felt like he could barely
move. Other days he was hypervigilant, constantly scanning the horizon
for any sign of a threat. The orthopedic injuries he sustained — he
would have to have at least two surgeries on his knee — made Abbott feel
like he'd never recover.

He began to isolate himself from his wife, Michelle. He didn't want her
to know the details of what happened, or how he felt.

"I thought I was protecting her, but I was really hurting her and
myself," he said. "It put a wall between us and made me feel more alone."

Abbott had no idea what it was like to cope with a mental health
condition. He had never been depressed or anxious. Compounding the pain
he felt was a gnawing feeling of shame.

"I had most of my life invested in law enforcement," he said. "It just
was out of my control. I felt helpless."

But in the days following the shooting, Abbott said his supervisors
asked little, if at all, about his mental health.

Frank Abbott, 29, poses in his New York State Police uniform with his
wife, Michelle Abbott, 27. "I knew he was struggling and not getting the
help he needed," Michelle Abbott said. "It was heartbreaking."Frank
Abbott, 29, poses in his New York State Police uniform with his wife,
Michelle Abbott, 27. "I knew he was struggling and not getting the help
he needed," Michelle Abbott said. "It was heartbreaking."Courtesy Frank
Abbott
"They asked about my physical injuries," he said. "They didn't refer me
to any mental health resources. It was, 'Hey, how you doing.' Like a box
to check. Not, 'Is everything okay? Are you sleeping at night?'"

"I didn't need to be committed," he added. "I needed hope. I needed
resources. I needed someone who could start a path toward something."

Like other law enforcement agencies, the New York State Police has an
Employee Assistance Program, that a police officer can draw upon to find
a psychologist, a rehabilitation program, or other resources.