He was working the "drunk watch" shift late one night on a rural road near Bethel Island, when he pulled over a car that had been weaving erratically and asked the driver for identification. When she turned her back on him and he focused his flashlight on her actions in the front seat, a male passenger in the back flung open his door and "...

Well, let Augusta, a lifelong Antioch resident, explain:

"When I faced him — he was only a couple of feet away — he had a gun on the door edge pointed right at me. We weren't wearing (bulletproof) vests in those days, so I turned sideways to cut down his angle.

"He fired two shots — one missed and one hit. It punctured my left kidney and lodged next to my spine, just missing a renal artery. The impact knocked me to the ground like being hit by a linebacker."

He said the attack unfolded almost in slow motion. He felt blood soaking his uniform as he drew his weapon to return fire before the car, whose occupants were wanted for armed robbery, sped away. Soon a priest was giving him last rites and his family was awaiting news of his surgery.

It was the definition of trauma and an early example of post-traumatic stress syndrome.

When Augusta returned to duty nearly a year later, he realized he was no longer suited for the job. He couldn't push the incident out of his mind.

"At the slightest provocation, I was ready to draw my gun," he said.

So he quit at 38 and went to work for the postal service.

The story helps explain why he and fellow former trooper Andy O'Hara teamed up to create The Badge of Life in January 2008, a program focused on the mental health and emotional well-being of police officers.

Their Web site (http://badgeoflife.com) tells of the seminars, lectures and DVDs that are available free to police agencies. Notable among the takers is the Sacramento County Sheriff's Office, which incorporates elements of the program in its academy training.

Augusta and O'Hara started the organization on their own dime — grateful supporters have since donated funding — because of the growing number of police suicides in the United States. More than 140 were reported last year.

"None of them were attributed to the stress and trauma of the job," August said, disbelievingly. "They were all in the generic area of 'personal problems.'"

He said a cop's traumatic experience comes in one of two forms: (1) immediate and overwhelming, as was his on an East Contra Costa County roadside, or (2) cumulative and imperceptible, from an endless barrage of confrontations, car chases, arrests, shootings and traffic fatalities. "Twenty years of being a cop in the street is almost equal to being a soldier in a combat zone," he said.

A police officer often is his own worst enemy because of the macho mask he wears. ("Cops never want to show weakness," Augusta said.) Not surprisingly, they are reluctant to undergo psychological therapy.

"Every police officer should see a therapist of his choice for one hour every year," Augusta said, "just like a dental checkup or a flu shot. The time to do this is before there's a crisis."

Take it from someone who was lying on the road, watching his life flash before his eyes.

Reach Tom Barnidge at 925-977-8591 or tbarnidge@bayareanewsgroup.com