NYPD Police Academy renamed for Steven McDonald, the cop who forgave the teen who shot and paralyzed him

The massive ceremony took place at 130-30 28th Ave and was attended by Mayor Zohran Mamdani, Police Commissioner Jessica Tisch, Queens District Attorney Melinda Katz, and others. Most notably, his son, NYPD Captain Connor McDonald, and his wife, Patti Ann McDonald, were also in attendance. 

McDonald became a legendary figure within the department, a man high-ranking police officials point to as an example to all incoming cops due to the dignified way he lived his life after being paralyzed on July 12, 1988. He was responding to a robbery in Central Park when a 15-year-old boy opened fire on him. The bullet struck his spine and left him as a quadriplegic — yet McDonald found the inner strength to forgive the shooter years later.

Detective McDonald lived the rest of his days in a wheelchair and on a ventilator, but that is not what defined his legacy. Instead, he became known for taking this message of forgiveness to schools throughout his remaining days.

“Him being there all the time and just following my life and making sure that I stayed on the straight and narrow, and also understanding, although what happened to him was an awful thing, love transcends all,” Connor McDonald told amNewYork. “He made sure that the number one disciple in his message was me.  I’ll take from my father’s life. Times are tough; it can be very difficult. You might get angry and upset about a lot of things because life is hard. But you know, there’s a lot of good people out there, and as he said, love is the way. So, I’m just very blessed that he’s my dad.”

Steven McDonald passed away in January 2017. Commissioner Tisch shared that the inspiration for renaming the academy came as she sat in a cathedral, describing it almost as a message from God to ensure future generations of cops follow in the footsteps of McDonald.

“Steven McDonald gave this city more than most people could give in a lifetime. And after giving nearly everything in the line of duty, he spent more than three decades finding new ways to serve,” Tisch said. “When he spoke about forgiveness, peace, and the value of a single human life, people listened because they knew he had earned the right to say it. And when Steven described the life he was trying to lead, he did it in the simplest possible terms. ‘I try to do something good every day,’ he said. There is no better summary of his life than that.”

Mamdani said that McDonald’s goodness “was not given; it was a choice.”

“Detective McDonald was above all else, human,” the mayor said. “Again and again, he reached for forgiveness instead of frustration, decency instead of despair, love instead of hate. … He was a man of deep faith, and he had wisdom.”

Tisch’s speech was watched not only by top police brass but also by police recruits currently in training, packed into the facility’s auditorium. Additionally, to mark the occasion, the academy opened a small exhibit featuring McDonald’s belongings, including his police recruit uniform, wheelchair, and ventilator.

“I feel him. I feel him especially today. I know he’s smiling down. I know he’d be extremely humbled and taken aback that the commissioner chose to do this,” Patti Ann McDonald said. “He got up every day, got into that wheelchair, went and spoke at precincts and schools to continue his job being a police officer. Even though he wasn’t able to do it as an able-bodied police officer, he did it in that chair, and he was an example.”

Hundreds gathered in the roadway outside the building to watch as a black covering was pulled away to reveal the words “Detective Steven D. McDonald Police Academy.”