How does one go from wearing a badge and protecting others to wearing an orange jumpsuit and living behind bars?

I asked myself that question as I lay in my bunk.

“Med call!” The nurse shouted at 5:00 a.m. “Smith, you want your detox meds?”

Weak from not eating and barely alive, I collected myself, buttoned up, and walked over to the table.

“Child, you are one pitiful sight. The last time you were in here, you said you weren’t coming back,” she said as she took my vitals.

That day, I was a dead man walking—physically, spiritually, and emotionally. But now, because of the saving and healing power of Jesus Christ, I am a new man, full of life.

My childhood was tough. My mother tried her best to shield me from my abusive, alcoholic father, but there was no escaping the chaos. She also worked hard to protect our family’s integrity within the community, as both my parents served in law enforcement.

Because of their status, however, I felt I had nowhere to turn for help. Who would believe me if I shared what happened in our home? I was also afraid of what Dad would do to me if I talked. I was already the target of his drunken outbursts. I hid the abuse from Mom, terrified our family would split.

School life wasn’t any better. I was a social outcast with no athletic skills. Feeling unwanted at home and school, I became an introvert. My only place of safety was my grandparents’ home.

After graduating high school, I left home, got a job, and enrolled in a community college. There I found acceptance through partying. Drugs and alcohol, the very things I despised, became the cure for all my social anxieties.

Being under the influence gave me a false sense of security, but in reality I was awakening a monster of addiction that would eventually crush me.

Knowing I needed to straighten up, I moved away from the college environment and applied for a position as a detention officer. I felt proud and accepted, serving in law enforcement like my folks.

In my second year, I was selected to attend Basic Law Enforcement Training and graduated as president of my class. At 25, I was sworn in as a deputy sheriff. I loved the job structure and fighting for others. I’d always been an underdog.

A couple of years later, I became a sergeant and entered investigations. I still partied on my days off with other officers, but not like before.

In 2014, I injured my back on the job and endured a botched surgery. My doctor prescribed copious amounts of opiates to treat my pain. Once those drugs entered my system, everything changed. I felt euphoric! Unbelievably, the doctor had no problem prescribing 360 pills a month—more than most terminally ill patients take.

When I switched neurosurgeons, that all stopped. This doctor weened me off the opiates and provided other methods of pain management until I was able to return to work. But by then, I had grown tired of law enforcement, especially the constant bickering among staff, late shifts, and political atmosphere. Not to mention the trauma that came with the job.

I had experienced shootings and witnessed stabbings, child abuse, suicide, rape, and seen people burned to a crisp. The faces of those victims were seared in my mind, and I couldn’t take any more.

In 2019, I resigned as a lieutenant after 14 years in law enforcement and got my commercial driver’s license. I also got engaged and had a child.

I was excited about having a family, but before the birth of our son, I began drinking after hours with coworkers and dabbling in narcotics. Then came another back surgery, and once that first pain pill passed my lips, I was a goner.

When the doctor cut me off, I looked for another source. I felt lucky when my cocaine distributor gave me ten free bags of opiates. I didn’t realize it was fentanyl, but I knew that whatever it was, it worked! My back pain was soon gone, and I decided I should stop using.

That idea was followed by withdrawals that made me want to die!

Confused, I called the dealer and asked what he’d given me. “Welcome to the party,” he said. “Where can I meet you?” This time, the drugs weren’t free. I was in trouble.

From that point, addiction ruled my life. It took everything from me—my home, fiancée, son, and reputation. And then I started using the needle, something most addicts say they’ll never do.

Money soon ran out, so I sold items to get more, including things that weren’t mine to sell. When there was nothing left, I sold and distributed fentanyl to support my habit.

I overdosed three times. The first time, I came to with a medical team and authorities standing over me in my mother’s driveway. I was so angry at Mom for calling for help.

As soon as I could stand, I ran to my car and took off in a rage. A short car chase ensued before I hit some trash cans and came to a halt. I woke up in an orange jumpsuit with charges for felony flee-and-elude and possession of heroin.

News outlets across the state had a field day. The headlines read, “Former Police Lieutenant Arrested.” I was ashamed and embarrassed about how my actions had impacted my family and the departments I’d served.

The district attorney offered a plea bargain and probation since it was my first offense, but I soon violated my probation and returned to the courtroom. I could’ve slid under the bench when the young man beside me recognized me.

“Sergeant Smith, is that you?” he asked, shocked. “Everyone back home saw the news, bro. You did it all! It was like an episode of Cops.” Then he added, “Keep your head up, OG, you’re still a good man.” I sure didn’t feel like one.

The judge showed mercy but warned me that if he saw me again, I’d be heading down the road to prison. I left defeated and angry with myself, the world, and God.

Not long after, I walked outside in the rain, threw my hands up, and screamed at the sky, “Love me. Hate me. Kill me. I don’t care. Just let me know You’re up there!” I was not prepared for God’s answer.

The next day, my probation officer showed up for a house check. While there, he revealed the police department had launched an investigation against me. I had eight pending felonies.

Two days later, while riding with my mother, I noticed a couple of patrol cars. I knew they were waiting for me. Then another car whipped in behind us and pulled us over. I told Mom I was sorry and that I’d be going away for a while.

The police handcuffed me and took me to jail. The judge set an astronomical bail, and I underwent another nightmare detox experience. Afterward, I was moved to the general population where a chaplain soon visited me.

He told me that if I built my life on anything but Jesus Christ, it wouldn’t stand (Matthew 7:24–27). I thought he had a lot of gall at first, but that night, I reflected on his words, and I prayed, “God, will You help me lay this foundation the chaplain spoke of?”

I received God’s answer a few days later when an officer pulled me aside and told me about the S.H.A.R.P. program (Sheriff’s Heroin Addiction Recovery Program) at the Pitt County Detention Center. Three days later, I was moved into the program.

Various individuals came into our block to provide counseling and guidance for overcoming addiction, including ministers like Pastor Mike Dixon, Chaplain David Linton, and Victorious Living publisher, Kristi Overton Johnson.

The faith-based recovery approach they presented intrigued me, as did the hope of Christ in their lives. I became deeply convicted about my sin and grabbed a Bible off the shelf. I confessed to God that I’d made a wreck of my life and promised that if He would save me, I’d worship Him forever.

I started reading in Genesis and made my way through the entire Bible. My faith grew stronger daily, as did my level of peace. Soon, the torment of my incarceration became a place of blessing. I felt alive and free.

Five months later my bond was dropped, and I received a pretrial release on a leg monitor. I was afraid to leave when the officer told me to pack it up. The rubber was about to hit the road, and I wasn’t sure I’d make it.

The first person I called when I got home was Pastor Mike. He offered an addiction recovery program called L.I.F.E. I knew that if I wanted to stay clean and continue to grow in my faith, I needed to stay connected with the program and the people who had helped me.

Pastor Mike visited me, and we talked about my next steps. He warned me the journey wouldn’t be easy, but promised that through faith in Jesus, all I needed would be provided. We knelt in my mother’s living room and prayed, and in the months that followed, I watched God do miraculous things.

When I left jail, I had nothing but the clothes on my back and those eight pending felony charges. I had no driver’s license, no job, no phone. The local reentry program helped me with clothes and counseling, but because of the pending felonies, their attempts at finding me employment failed. “Come back when your legal troubles end,” they all said.

I managed to find a job at McDonalds. Flipping burgers was not exactly what I wanted, but I was thankful and determined to work for God’s glory (Colossians 3:17). I reminded myself daily to be faithful and kind, and to work with integrity. The Bible promised God would see my efforts and reward me in due time (Luke 16:10).

People often asked about my leg monitor. This allowed me to share my testimony and life lessons. I was so pleased when, as a result of my encouragement, one of my coworkers enlisted in the Navy and another returned to school to get his GED.

God soon provided more opportunities for me to serve Him and others when Pastor Dixon asked me to teach at his L.I.F.E. recovery meetings. I was amazed that God and Pastor Mike would trust me to help others find freedom. I still had a trial pending.

Days before my court date, my lawyer informed me that the state had dismissed all eight charges. Tears flowed as I praised God for moving on my behalf. I could now apply to the local community college.

More blessings followed when I got my driver’s license back and was approved for financial aid. Today, I am a full-time student with a 3.5 GPA, preparing to enter nursing school. To God be the glory!

God sure does have a knack for restoring broken people and raising dead things back to life. He crushed my addictions, healed my depression, restored what I’d lost, and gave me more than I could’ve imagined. He can do all that for you too. It doesn’t matter what’s going on in your life—there is always hope in Jesus Christ.

Clint Smith helps others live in freedom from addiction in his position as a recovery leader in L.I.F.E. Ministries. The L.I.F.E. program is available to the incarcerated on VL’s digital platforms on EDOVO and PANDO.