Lawrence Weglarz

Some people serve once and call it a chapter. Others serve again, and again, and again—because their purpose never really leaves them. Lawrence Weglarz is one of those people. His story is not just about uniforms, deployments, or medals. It’s about unwavering commitment to country, community, and the belief that everyone deserves redemption.

With over 30 years of combined service in the military and law enforcement, Lawrence’s legacy is still unfolding—not in combat boots, but in a quiet fight for those who’ve returned from war and now battle to rebuild their lives at home.

A Soldier in Two Generations

Lawrence first joined the U.S. Army in 1980, just after high school, with a dream of becoming a police officer. Military Police (MP) seemed like the perfect entry point, a stepping stone into a life of order, law, and public service. But his first tour of duty wasn’t what he hoped it would be. Stationed in Germany, he found himself surrounded by a military culture plagued with drug abuse—even among MPs. “There were only two of us in my platoon who didn’t use,” he recalled. That wasn’t the kind of uniform he wanted to wear.

Disillusioned, he left the Army and pursued civilian law enforcement instead. And for the next 28 years, Lawrence served his community as an officer and detective—eventually working as a polygraph examiner and rising to the rank of sergeant with the Pinellas County Sheriff’s Office.

But after 9/11, something stirred inside him. At 43 years old, while most are thinking about stability and retirement, Lawrence felt the call to serve again.

A New Mission: Counterintelligence in a Time of War

In 2003, with the U.S. engaged in Iraq and Afghanistan, Lawrence re-enlisted—this time in the National Guard. With his years of law enforcement experience, he shifted from MP to counterintelligence. “I had a skill set that could help,” he said. Interviewing, investigations, and leadership—these were tools the military needed.

Deployed to Afghanistan, Lawrence worked closely with confidential informants, investigating weapons caches and enemy movements. He spent long nights bouncing down dangerous mountain roads in a basic, unarmored Toyota pickup—carrying over 180mm Russian artillery shells in the back. “We couldn’t help but laugh,” he said. “It was absurd. But laughter is how we survived.”

His perspective on danger was shaped by experience. At the Sheriff’s Office, a single blasting cap once shut down the entire building. Now, he was riding with a truck full of active munitions across craters and chaos. The irony wasn’t lost on him—but neither was the responsibility.

Duty and Sacrifice: A Father’s Honest Regret

Lawrence doesn’t sugarcoat the cost of service—especially the toll it takes on families. During his second deployment, his absence left a deep impact on his children, particularly his son who had to grow up fast. “I owe them an apology,” he said, with rare vulnerability. “They thought I left for different reasons, but it was pure patriotism.”

His words are raw and honest. “If you’re not part of the solution, you’re part of the problem.” He felt a duty to step up when the world was at war. But the burden of that decision wasn’t his alone—it was shared by his family. And to them, he offers gratitude, respect, and a heartfelt “thank you” for their tolerance and strength.

A New Mission at Home: Giving Veterans a Second Chance

When Lawrence came home, he didn’t stop serving. He noticed something troubling—veterans returning from combat were being arrested at higher rates than the general population. Often, the offenses were nonviolent: bar fights, DUIs, or domestic disputes. But the consequences were life-altering. Even when a veteran completed diversion programs like Veterans Treatment Court, the arrest would remain on their record—blocking jobs, housing, and dignity.

So Lawrence took action.

He founded Expunge US Veterans, a nonprofit (now for-profit LLC) dedicated to helping veterans and first responders clear their criminal records. “It’s not about erasing the past—it’s about giving people a future,” he said. While lawyers often charge $1,500–$2,500 for expungement services, Lawrence’s organization connects veterans with pro bono legal help and charges little or nothing for those who serve.

He’s watched veterans “graduate” from court, celebrate their second chance—only to be denied a job at a fast-food restaurant because their record was still visible. “You make a poor choice in a dark time,” he says, “and it becomes a life sentence. That’s not justice.”

His mission is simple: give good people a clean slate. Because when veterans feel they have no future, they’re more likely to fall again. When they’re given opportunity, they rise.

Perspective From Both Sides of the Badge

Lawrence is uniquely qualified to do this work—not just as a soldier, but as a former sergeant in law enforcement. He knows what a criminal record does. He knows how courts work. He knows what it takes to get clean, stay clean, and re-enter society.

He also knows what changes within the military—from the drug-heavy 1980s to the far more disciplined 2000s. “It’s cleaned up now,” he said. “It’s professional. It’s a place where you can get real training and build a career.”

And he encourages young people to consider it. “Whether you stay for life or just serve a few years, you’ll grow. You’ll learn discipline. You’ll walk out stronger than you walked in.”

A Soldier’s Final Reflection

In closing, Lawrence’s message is one of humility, service, and gratitude.

“I’m thankful to the military. It gave me structure. It gave me purpose. And it still impacts my life in powerful ways. I’m thankful to my kids—for sticking with me. I know I wasn’t easy. I had a lot of training, a lot of rules, and a lot of expectations. But I did it because I love them.”

He thanks all veterans and first responders who sacrifice daily—often without recognition. And he calls on veterans to use the support systems available: the VA, community nonprofits, peer support groups. “Don’t do it alone,” he says. “Let your family be part of your healing.”

From law enforcement to Afghanistan, from the courtroom to the redemption of others—Lawrence Weglarz is still fighting for what’s right. Not with weapons, but with advocacy. Not with rank, but with purpose.

And through his work with Expunge US Veterans, he continues to do what he’s always done best: serve.