The Hero’s Price – May 11, 2018
 On May 11, 2018, while pursuing a suspect armed with a firearm, I was struck at full speed by a massive SUV. The impact was catastrophic. But training took over. I got back up, continued the pursuit, apprehended the suspect, and recovered the firearm. Only after the suspect was secured did my body finally give out. I collapsed on Wolf Street. I spent a week in Shock Trauma. But that was only the beginning. Living With CRPS
Months later, I began experiencing sudden paralysis at crime scenes. My left foot would simply stop working. Eventually, doctors diagnosed me with Complex Regional Pain Syndrome (CRPS) — a severe and permanent nerve disease caused by blunt force trauma. CRPS is often referred to as the “suicide disease” because the pain is relentless and life-altering. As my condition progressed, I lost movement from the waist down and in my left arm. To preserve my ability to walk, I underwent a rare surgery to implant a battery pack in my waist with wires threaded into my spine. Today, I must charge my body every three days and regulate my movement with a remote control. The medical costs alone are overwhelming.

Choosing Service, Even While Broken
When COVID-19 shut the world down, I was largely bedridden. Instead of asking “Why me?” I asked, “How can I help?” I raised my own funds and sewed hundreds of protective masks, mailing them free of charge across the country to protect others. My story reached national and international news, including coverage by CBS News. https://www.cbsnews.com/baltimore/news/from-first-responder-to-fashion-designer-bpd-detective-sews-to-manage-pain-after-car-accident-now-sews-masks-during-covid-19-pandemic/ Eventually, my health forced me into early retirement. It was one of the darkest periods of my life — until now.

The Final Betrayal
 In 2025, determined not to waste over a decade of investigative experience, I accepted a civilian investigator role with a government agency. To prove my commitment, I commuted three hours a day by train for three months before uprooting my life to move closer to the job. I gave that agency my loyalty, my integrity, and my expertise. Eight months into the role, I uncovered systemic misconduct, fraud, and unethical investigative practices. When I refused to look the other way and advocated for the rights of vulnerable individuals harmed by those practices, the system turned on me. I endured months of retaliation and sexual harassment. Two weeks before Christmas, and one week before my birthday, I was terminated under false pretenses. The government weaponized the very disability I earned in the line of duty.

Where I Am Now
I am 92 days without income. I am pursuing justice through the Office of Human Rights in a civil rights case involving disability discrimination, retaliation, and sexual orientation discrimination. My standing has been verified by senior EEO specialists. But while the legal process moves forward, reality is brutal. My kitchen is empty. I am facing eviction. I cannot consistently afford my medication. My son’s stability now depends on the outcome of this fight. I stood up for what was right — and lost everything.

UPDATE: GOOD NEWS!! I have now secured legal representation through the Center for Employment Justice in Washington, DC and am preparing to pursue civil rights claims under the DC Human Rights Act.
What Your Support Will Do
 I am not asking for a handout. I am asking for a bridge. Your support will help cover: • Emergency rent to prevent eviction • Groceries and basic necessities • Transportation to medical appointments • Medication gaps while my case proceeds Every dollar buys time, dignity, and survival. 

Why This Fight Matters For Everyone
 This fight is bigger than me. I am fighting so that:
 • No disabled investigator is discarded for doing the right thing
• No LGBTQ employee is targeted for who they are
• No first responder is punished for the trauma they endured in service.

  I spent 13 years protecting others.

 Today, I am asking for help so I can stay on my feet long enough to finish this fight. Even if you cannot donate, sharing this fundraiser can make a tremendous difference.

 Thank You Thank you for seeing me. Thank you for standing with me.

 Ret. Det. “Mack”