New Castle County police recruits shoot weapons for first time

Josephine Peterson
The News Journal
New Castle County Police recruits load their magazines before going to the firing line for their firearms training session.

First, there was a two-hour lecture about guns and weapon safety, including videos of different caliber bullets striking blocks of green gelatin made to mimic a human body.

Then the eight New Castle County Police recruits, seven white men and one African American woman, pulled bulletproof vests over their heads and tightened the Velcro straps on the sides.

They buckled on duty belts holding empty ammo magazines, a gun holster and their department-issued weapon, and later, protective glasses and noise-canceling headphones.

And they headed outside to the range off River Road, where for the first time they would shoot their service weapons.

Chrnita Jackson, 25, a former social worker from New Jersey, said she was nervous. This would be the first time she had ever fired a weapon.

She left her job because she wanted more excitement, and she thinks her social work experiences will be helpful in the field. As a social worker, she would have to go out and de-escalate situations, such as calming down a person threatening suicide.

Jackson believes this job means more to her than to her peers, because of her differences.

“I have more of a drive to finish and to be successful, being an African American female,” Jackson said. “I’m looking at it as different, so I have to be able to push through all that. I’m looking at it as more than a job. It’s something I have to accomplish.”

Chrnita Jackson, 25, a former social worker from New Jersey fires her service weapon during a training session in New Castle.

The recruits, one-third of this year's class, gathered near the targets to review rules of the range. Head range instructor Master Cpl. Kevin Woerner then guided the trainees to   a park bench, where a cardboard box full of bullets waited on them.

Each recruit loaded three magazines. Some were quick, others took their time pushing ammunition into the magazine as the spring tightened with each additional bullet.

Recruit Marcos Rivera, 25 from northern Delaware, had little difficulty with the task. He had served four years in the Army. He said he had grown accustomed to “that type of lifestyle.” 

Rivera said he enjoyed working in a non-stationary job and wants to continue to protect the community, so becoming a police officer was a natural next step.

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“I think there is a misconception that police officers are reactive, when really they are proactive," Rivera said. "They are trying to find problems to solve rather than picking up phone calls.”

The recruits lined up, one in front of his or her own target. They started three feet away from the targets, double-checking their “isosceles” stance—legs spread apart, knees soft, torso leaning forward and arms extending in front of them holding the gun.

Woerner had to shout instructions loud enough for everyone to hear them through their headphones.

“Three shots right in the center,” Woerner yelled. “Fire!”

Matthew Kibblehouse, 24 from New Castle, and the other seven trainees unholstered their gun, careful to follow the technique, aimed and fired.

Kibblehouse has known for a while he wanted to become a police officer. He majored in criminal justice at The University of Delaware, and during summers worked at the city’s police station.

“My whole life I have only ever had positive interactions with police,” Kibblehouse said. “I just want to make a difference in the community where I am from. It’s not just locking people up. It’s building a relationship between the police and the community.”

The recruits continued to take commands from the instructor: Shooting between the eyes. To the left of the target. In the neck. In the lower abdomen.

As the recruits shot, Woerner and three other instructors walked around talking to each trainee, giving tips and advice to improve performance.

Woerner said the public seems to think officers are taught to shoot to kill, but they actually shoot only to stop a threat.

“You shoot until the threat is no longer viable. If someone throws their gun, you don’t continue to shoot. That threat has stopped,” Woerner said. “If you try and shoot the gun out of somebody’s hand, that is not an easy target. The center mass is an easier target to make.”

The academy teaches future officers to aim for that center mass, or the torso.

Each of the 24 recruits who make up the 44th academy class of New Castle County Police Department will shoot nearly 2,000 bullets by the end of their six-month training, Worner said.

New Castle County Police recruits load their magazines before going to the firing line for their firearms training session.

“Nobody is going to be out there with them if they have to use their gun,” Woerner said. "If they need to use this weapon, nobody is going to be there to pull the trigger for them.”

If 2,000 bullets sounds like a lot, look at how many hours sports teams train, Worner said.

“Think about football. Think about middle school football, high school football, college football. They have years of training," Woerner said. "We have six months and then 16 weeks of field training. Then we are in the Super Bowl.”

What Woerner wants recruits to learn, is when to shoot and when not to. And the training seems successful: On-duty NCCPD officers have fired their weapons four times in the past five years.

During the morning training, recruits unloaded three magazines of bullets and then studied their targets riddled with holes. After picking up the empty cartridges, they headed inside for lunch.

Rivera was smiling as instructors congratulated him on how well he shot, teasing him that he didn't need to training after four years in the military.

“If you want to do this job, you have to be willing to give it 100 percent,” Rivera said.

Jackson was relieved.

“I made it. It was definitely different,” she said. “I have so much to learn and I’m open to learn.”

She says she will bring the same motivation for the job as she had as a social worker.

“It takes one positive person to change the views of at least somebody,” Jackson said. “If I can’t impact everybody, at least I can impact somebody.”

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Contact Josephine Peterson at (302) 324-2856 or jhpeterson@delawareonline.com. Follow her on Twitter at @jopeterson93.