I was a 911 dispatcher for almost 11 years.

Eleven long years of receiving the calls of everyone from entitled doogaters to terrified

pleading victims of serious violent crimes.

I spent a long time compartmentalizing the more harrowing calls, years letting go of

the pain and suffering I soaked up like a sponge during the years I spent sat in front

of a switchboard computer.

I've had numerous sleepless nights, countless visits to state appointed therapists, but

only one emergency call really sticks with me, one that I couldn't ever shake off or

push to the back of my mind.

I have a copy of the transcripts to the call so I'll be referencing my copy to ensure

my recollection of the events are as accurate as possible.

This is the story of the Ashland Jane Doe.

Working in more than 6,000 call centers nationwide, 911 dispatchers form the vital link between

callers and distress and emergency response teams that assist them.

Through a fish and handling and assessment we reduce response times and help save lives.

That's the idea that got me into the career in the first place, saving lives.

I'd never been particularly athletic so a career in law enforcement or the military

was never really in the cards for me.

That always bothered me.

I grew up intensely idealistic and I've always had my heart set on a career where I could

help people, help make the world a better place.

So when I found out that I could apply to be a 911 dispatcher and help play a part

...