The Day a Cop Showed Me Grace
Sabrina & Mark - March 2021
I was a high school dropout in 1995 working at a small gas station in Auburn, Indiana, barely clinging to the life I’d managed to piece together. I had finally graduated, though just by the skin of my teeth, but my world was still a mess. I was wrapped up in relationships without integrity, surrounded by people who treated crime as a right, not a wrong (as if we were entitled to break the rules without a thought for the lives we might impact in the process). I was headed down a path that promised either a cell or a coffin, as my mom would say, and I couldn’t see a way out.
Mark Heffelfinger was a regular at that gas station. Over time, we built a little trust. He’d stop in, talk about the day, shoot the shit, and never made me feel small for where I was or the choices I’d made. That might not sound like much, but when you’ve been swimming in shame and anger most of your adolescent life, someone talking to you like you’re a human being can mean a lot.
Then came the day he saw the warrant for my arrest. I had been denying my mistakes, convinced I could outrun the truth, even as my life spiraled deeper into a bigger mess. When the moment came, I was scared, ashamed, and desperate to protect the people I thought I owed my loyalty to—even if it meant sacrificing my own future.
That’s when Mark did something that still sticks with me. Instead of throwing the book at me or exacerbating my shame, he asked me to get into his squad car for a ride. As we drove, he looked over and said, “Young lady, if you sleep with a pig, you start to smell like one and you’re hanging around people who don’t really care about you. But you’re a good kid. You’ve got to find a way to make this right.”
In that moment, he offered me a choice. He believed in me when I didn’t believe in myself. He gave me a chance to see a future where I wasn’t defined by my mistakes, where I could still turn things around. Mark could have crushed me with judgment and more shame, and maybe that’s what I thought I deserved. Instead, he gave me empathy, grace, and accountability—the kind of words I had never heard from the men in my life.
He didn’t ignore my screw-ups or make excuses for me, but he also didn’t write me off as a lost cause. That mattered. It was the kind of language my brokenness needed, a reminder that I still had a shot at being something more. It took me a while to make good on that promise, but I eventually did. I found a way out, not just from the criminal charges but from the dark places in my mind that told me I was unworthy of anything good or decent in my life.
Mark showed up for me in a way that most wouldn’t, and it changed my life. It’s a testament to what law enforcement can be at its best—a force for grace, compassion, and healing in the hardest of moments. His choices that day mattered, and they still do. He held me accountable with empathy but more importantly; he believed I could be something more. When people ask me, “why are you helping cops?” — it’s a no brainer, you see. And for anyone who’s been in my shoes; you are not your mistakes—you can genuinely make things right and be a force for good. Please see yourself as Mark saw me; just a person, who isn’t a mistake, but who simply made one.
(Mark Heffelfinger is retired from law enforcement; as Police Chief in Butler, IN and from the Indiana State Police where he held various roles including his work on the April Tinsley murder case. He will not like this tribute to him — but, the truth sets many people free. I’m grateful that I can share this story out loud versus wish for it. Thank you, Mark.)
