Doing the Right Thing Still Has a Price—But Do It Anyway

By Doug Rinderknecht | Firefighter & Paramedic, MTI Athlete Team

There’s a hard truth in the fire service—and in life—that I’ve learned firsthand:

Doing the right thing doesn’t always lead to praise. Sometimes, it leads to isolation, tension, and fallout.

But that doesn’t make it any less right.

A while back, I made a decision that put me at odds with a neighboring agency’s fire chief. I won’t get into specific names or private details, but the issue involved a clear violation of both ethical standards and departmental policy. After wrestling with it privately, I chose to report it through the appropriate channels. Legally and morally, it was the correct move. But what came next surprised me.

The professional relationship between our departments deteriorated quickly. What had once been smooth mutual aid became strained. Informal cooperation all but vanished. Behind the scenes, people began to talk. Some respected the choice; others distanced themselves. And worst of all, our crews—good men and women on both sides—felt the tension. They were the unintended casualties of a conflict they had no part in.

I’ve spent a lot of time reflecting on this. Not because I regret doing the right thing, but because I now better understand the cost that sometimes comes with it.

The Fallout No One Talks About

We love to say “integrity matters” in this job. We put it on plaques, mission statements, and recruit academy walls. But what we rarely acknowledge is that integrity can cost you. It can cost you relationships, support, and even your own peace of mind.

Leadership often means standing alone—not for attention, not for pride, but because someone has to hold the line when it counts. Still, knowing you’re right doesn’t make it easier when others treat you like you’re the problem just because you said something.

I won’t pretend I handled everything perfectly. Could I have communicated the issue differently? Maybe. Could I have tried harder to resolve it quietly? Possibly. But even with the benefit of hindsight, I still believe the decision itself was the right one.

Because at the end of the day, we wear this badge not just to run toward danger, but to represent something bigger than ourselves: public trust.

Five Hard Lessons I Learned

1. Doing what’s right isn’t enough—you also have to do it right.
   Integrity without tact can do as much damage as silence. It’s not just what you say, it’s how and when you say it that matters.
2. The ripple effects are real—and unavoidable.
   No action happens in a vacuum. Whether it’s policy, ethics, or leadership decisions, every move you make will affect others. Own that.
3. Accountability isn’t always welcomed.
   Just because something is obvious to you doesn’t mean others want to hear it. People protect their silos. And when you shake things up, don’t be surprised if you’re treated like a threat—even when you’re acting in service of the mission.
4. Keep the mission above your pride.
   If relationships get rocky, resist the urge to double down or get defensive. Apologize for any unnecessary friction, but not for doing your duty. The goal isn’t to win—it’s to protect the team, the public, and the standard.
5. Extend a hand, even after the fallout.
   I’ve reached out to that chief since. Not to apologize for holding the line, but to acknowledge the tension and offer a way forward. We don’t have to agree to restore respect—but we do have to keep our focus on the communities we serve.

Bottom Line: Leadership Isn’t About Being Liked

We’re not in this job to make friends, though it’s great when we do. We’re here to be guardians of safety, integrity, and accountability. And sometimes that means saying hard things or making uncomfortable calls.

The fire service is a brotherhood, but it’s not a boys’ club. We can’t protect our own at the expense of our values. When something is wrong, we fix it—even if it costs us professionally or personally. That’s the burden of the job. And it’s also the honor.

So to anyone reading this who’s stuck in a similar situation—torn between the consequences of speaking up and the weight of staying silent—let me say this:

Do the right thing. And accept the consequences like a professional.

You may lose a few handshakes. You may walk into cold rooms. But you’ll sleep at night. And in this job, that matters more than fitting in.