I’ll never forget Officer Jerry Deacon’s smug face the day he ruined my life.
The bully in uniform who used his badge like a weapon, twisting the law to suit his needs.
He framed me without hesitation…like it was just part of his routine.
But I rebuilt my life, slowly and painfully, never forgetting what he’d done.
But, for the past year, I kept my eye on Jerry, waiting for the right moment to make him pay.
And that moment finally came.
It wasn’t just about revenge anymore—it was about justice.
He thought he could get away with it, but he didn’t know I was ready to take him down.
Scamming Drivers For Cash
One minute, I was driving home from work with my son in the backseat, and the next, I was dragged out of my car, slapped with handcuffs, and accused of driving under the influence.
That nightmare frame up was apparently revenge.
A week before, I’d been pulled over by Officer Deacon.
When I showed my license and registration, he claimed he pulled me over for a tail light infraction.
He explained he wouldn’t need to write me a ticket if I went ahead and paid the $100 ‘fine.’
None of that seemed right to me, so I refused.
I explained that my lights were functioning (thank God for video evidence), and he backed down, saying he would just give a ‘warning.’
Now, I’d been pulled over again, this time, he claimed I was driving under the influence.
Fortunately, my wife was able to come get our son because despite passing the sobriety checks, he arrested me anyway.
After months of fighting and proving my innocence, the DUI charge was reversed, but by the time I cleared my name, it had nearly destroyed me—my business collapsed, my savings gone.
But, I hadn’t forgotten the officer who’s petty retaliation started the whole thing.
Moving on To Bigger Targets
I guess extorting a couple hundred bucks a day from scared motorists wasn’t covering his needs, because I got wind that Officer Deacon was suddenly claiming a work injury.
I’d heard the story…he supposedly hurt his back responding to a call.
He played his part perfectly, showing up to work with a limp, clutching his back, and groaning in pain.
His old buddy, a shady doctor, signed off on the paperwork, diagnosing him with chronic back pain that would prevent him from working.
Jerry’s plan was simple: pretend to be crippled for a few months, go through the motions of therapy, and retire comfortably on the city’s dime.
A lifetime of pension checks while he spent his days fishing and golfing.
I knew all of this because I’d been following Jerry’s every move since the day he framed me.
That DUI nearly ruined me, but the fire inside me for justice—or maybe revenge—never went out.
And now Jerry had gotten sloppy.
Building My Case
Hiring the private investigator, Marcus, was the first time I felt real hope in months.
He was an old friend of my brother, a former cop now working in surveillance.
We met at a quiet diner, and I handed him a folder filled with news clippings about Jerry’s “injury,” printouts of his disability claim, and photos I had taken of Jerry walking around town without a limp.
“I need proof,” I said.
Marcus didn’t ask questions. He knew how guys like Jerry operated.
“I’ll get you what you need,” he replied.
The next few weeks were agonizing.
Finally, Marcus came through. He handed me a flash drive, and when I plugged it into my laptop, my heart raced.
There was Jerry, lifting weights at the gym, a barbell across his back as he did squats. The timestamp showed it was just two days after he’d filed his disability paperwork.
There were more clips—Jerry playing basketball, walking with his wife, fishing on a boat, wrestling with a cooler full of gear.
I had the proof. But I wasn’t ready to strike yet.
Surprise Witness at the Hearing
The day of Jerry’s medical hearing, I woke up calm, knowing everything was about to come crashing down on him.
Jerry had been bragging all week about retiring early, about his big pension, and how he was going to “miss the force.”
But today, I had the power.
Right before the hearing, I dropped off copies of the evidence I’d gathered to Internal Affairs: video footage, testimonials from Jerry’s victims, and his fraudulent medical paperwork.
I also sent a copy to the local news, itching to expose corruption in the police force.
I wasn’t invited to the hearing, but I had someone on the inside, and I sat quietly in the back, unnoticed by Jerry.
Jerry walked in, limping and wincing, playing the role of a man in constant pain. He recited his well-rehearsed lies about how hard it was to walk, how even sitting for long periods caused unbearable pain.
Then, the moment came. One of the officers leaned forward and slid a file across the table. “Officer Deacon, we received some new information this morning,” he said.
Jerry’s confident smile wavered as the officer opened the laptop and played the footage.
The room was silent as they watched Jerry at the gym, lifting weights, playing basketball, and fishing—all without a hint of pain.
His face turned white.
“You want to explain this?” the officer asked coldly.
Jerry stammered, trying to protest, but the evidence was damning.
His disability claim was denied on the spot, and he was placed on immediate suspension pending a criminal investigation.
Corruption Exposed
Jerry’s downfall hit the news that evening.
“Corrupt Officer Busted in Disability Fraud, Faces Misconduct Charges,” the headlines read.
The story spread like wildfire, and his victims came forward one by one, sharing their stories of extortion and false arrests.
Jerry’s name became synonymous with everything wrong in the system.
His pension? Gone. His badge? Revoked. His reputation? Destroyed.
He tried to fight back, claiming it was all a misunderstanding, but the evidence was overwhelming.
What started as a simple scam ended with criminal charges and a public disgrace so complete there was no recovering from it.
In the days that followed, I felt a sense of closure.
It wasn’t just about revenge—it was about reclaiming what Jerry had stolen from me. My dignity. My life.
Jerry Deacon was gone, and I was finally free.