I grew up during the 1960s and 1970s. Becoming a private investigator never crossed my mind. What was clear, even at a young age, was that people in our community were often treated unfairly by law enforcement. Officers would come into our neighborhoods, throw drugs on the ground, and arrest innocent people. Those experiences stayed with me.
My brother and I had a newspaper route, which meant waking up very early and going to the distribution center while it was still dark. One morning, while on our route, we were stopped by two police officers. They told us that since we were not police, we must be burglars. That encounter shook me. After that, I didn’t want to deliver newspapers anymore. A deep distrust of law enforcement took root.
By the age of twenty-four, I was still trying to figure out a career path. I realized I had very few marketable skills, so I decided to go back to school. I also needed a job while attending classes. I took a position as a bus person at a Marriott property. I wanted work, but I also wanted to prove that I was capable of more than bussing tables.
After several months, I asked to transfer to the sales department, but management didn’t take that request seriously. Instead, my supervisor told me that if I learned how to make mixed drinks, I might be considered for a bartender position. That same day after work, I went to a bookstore and bought a bartender’s guide.
The bartender who worked my shift agreed to help me. He told me to study at least three drinks a night, and if a customer ordered one of those drinks, he would let me make it. Five months later, I had my own bar. A year after that, my supervisor suggested I apply for a bar manager position at a five-star restaurant. I took the opportunity.
That fine-dining establishment became the turning point in my life. One of my coworkers—who would later become my mentor—had worked at the same restaurant years earlier while attending law school. One day, he stopped by to speak with a client who worked there. We had a brief conversation, and I mentioned that I was curious about how cases moved through the legal system.
A few months later, he returned and invited me to visit his law office. I began spending time there, then attending court with him. He showed me how courthouses operated—how to research cases, file documents, locate records, and understand how the system actually worked. I learned by observing, listening, and doing.
After about a year, while sitting in his office one day, he told me I needed to start my own business. I had no idea how to start an investigation business. He instructed me to go to court, watch trials, learn who the defense attorneys were, observe how prosecutors worked, and pay attention to how judges made their rulings.
That advice changed everything.
I soon became familiar with one defense attorney who I believed then—and still believe now—to be one of the best. While watching him defend a case, I realized I could be of assistance. I approached him and offered to help, without compensation. He agreed. From that point forward, I became his investigator.
Other attorneys began noticing me working alongside him. They would ask who I was, and he would say, “That’s my investigator.” That’s how my reputation began.
One of my first real investigations involved an aggravated assault case. I was tasked with locating and interviewing a witness. I found him and went to his home one evening after dark. When I knocked on the door, a large, burly man opened it and asked, “What do you want?” His size and tone intimidated me. I told him I thought I had the wrong house and walked back to my car.
Sitting there, I made a decision. If I was going to do this work, I couldn’t be afraid.
That moment never happened again.
From that point forward, I committed myself to becoming the best investigator in my home city. Over the years, I learned that there are few things more gratifying than helping to exonerate an innocent person. I have been fortunate to accomplish that outcome in several real case investigations, and those moments reinforced why this work must be done carefully, ethically, and with discipline.
The reason I teach others today is because of the help I received along my own journey. People took the time to show me how things worked when they didn’t have to. They opened doors, shared knowledge, and trusted me enough to let me learn by doing. Without that guidance, I would not be where I am today.
I have always wanted to teach others, but for a long time, I didn’t know how. I understood that experience matters, and that judgment cannot be learned from a book. I also understood that this profession carries real responsibility, and not everyone entering it is prepared for that reality. Until now, I didn’t have a meaningful way to share what I had learned.
That is why Frontline Investigator Training Academy exists. It is not a certification program, and it is not based on textbooks or television portrayals of investigative work. The training is built on real-world experience, hard lessons, and decades of working actual criminal cases. It focuses on judgment, discipline, and ethics—because those are the things that protect people, cases, and investigators.
The first three training modules are free because access should not be a barrier to learning. The goal is not to sell a title, but to prepare people for the realities of investigative work and help them avoid mistakes that can follow them for the rest of their careers.
Teaching is my way of giving back what was given to me. If someone is considering this field, they deserve honesty, preparation, and guidance rooted in reality—not fantasy.
Experience isn’t something you inherit or download—it’s earned, often the hard way, and once you have it, you owe it to others to use it responsibly.
Disclaimer:
Educational content only. Not legal advice, investigative advice, or certification.
Marvin Dixon/Founder
vmgreview.com, and Frontline Investigator Training Academy
VMG Review 