Two months after the Sept. 11, 2001, terrorist attacks, random residents of Leesburg would walk up to now Leesburg Master Police Officer Matt Bennett and shake his hand. They would offer to buy him a cup of coffee and thank him for his service.

But it’s been 11 years and that sense of community is no longer there.

Bennett, 42, today still gets yelled at by residents for writing them tickets and cursed at by those he arrests.

He misses those days of togetherness that followed the attacks.

“It would be nice to have that kind of unity and compassion that we saw after 9/11,” Bennett said.

But it’s the small victories that have made the job worth every day of his 17 years with Leesburg Police Department – like the Christmas card he still has from a woman he busted for using drugs that credits him for saving her life or the rooter statue ( a symbol of warrior in Central America) he received from a woman he worked with to help protect her children who had been molested.

“The balance is kept in those little things that keep you going,” Bennett said.

Sept. 11, 2001, left Bennett worried about his friends in the Muslim community. He recalls the concern for their safety and the call he received from a friend who told him “I understand if we can’t be friends anymore.”

“It opened your eyes to what was really going on out there,” he said.

But Bennett, who also served two years with the Alexandria Sheriff’s Office, can recall a time pre-Sept. 11 that the community came together – at least for a brief moment.

Years ago, a man plunged over the Plaza Street bridge in his truck into a creek. As Bennett and his fellow law enforcement officers rushed to the scene, they saw members of the community jumping into the water, all working to help turn the man’s truck over before he drown.

“Looking back, it was a wonderful experience, seeing everyone working collectively to get this guy out. That to me meant more than making an arrest … It was really heartening.”
But there are days that the officer knows no matter what he does, some won’t understand his actions. Like the time he had to shoot a dog in front of a group of children that was charging at him (He took sharp criticism from not only the community but the media for the incident, he said.)

“I had to draw a line in the sand. It was something I didn’t want to do. To this day, that bothers me,” Bennett said.

Or the time he promised a parent of a handicapped individual he would ticket the person who kept parking in the handicapped area at a school, but never did because he was told it would be handled by the School Resource Officer.

“I still look for that person to this day so I can explain to them that I didn’t personally let them down,” he said.

But Bennett thrives on the minor victories, such as the Leesburg parking lot today, now clean, that used to be a hangout for drug pushers and criminals.

“I took a generational heartache and turned it around to be used for something good,” he said.