Encountering Isle of Palms Police Department’s Chief Kevin Cornett, one is immediately struck by the embodiment of authority and calm he presents. His uniform, meticulously kept, badges shining with the weight of honor, and a smile that radiates a tranquil assurance - a testament that under his watchful eye, all is well in this coastal sanctuary. But what lies beneath the surface of the Isle of Palms' esteemed police chief is a tapestry of life experiences far more complex and harrowing than his serene demeanor might suggest.
Invisible to the casual observer are the deep emotional wounds that time has etched into his gaze. A past marred by the abandonment of his parents, the cruelty of abusive guardians, the cold, impersonal shuffle through the foster care system, the gnaw of severe hunger, and the devastating loss of his brother to suicide. These experiences painted a bleak landscape in his early years, a time when pain and loneliness were constant companions, clouding both the path ahead and the memories behind. For Cornett, the horizon of his youth seemed devoid of light, with a future and past painted in equally grim hues.
Yet, the trajectory of Cornett's life unfolded in ways that defy the odds, marking an incredible journey of resilience and redemption. His survival and subsequent rise to become the picture of law, order, and peace on the Isle of Palms stand as a testament to an indomitable spirit. The stark contrast between the man he has become and the trials he has endured speaks volumes of his strength and character, shaping a narrative that is as remarkable as it is inspiring.
To truly appreciate the breadth of Cornett's extraordinary journey, it is essential to trace the contours of his origins. Born in Bismarck, North Dakota in 1982, Cornett was among four children, with two sisters, Susan and Kathy, and his older brother, Timothy.
His early life was a harsh rotation of homes—some kind, others abusive—a dichotomy that would impress upon him the profound effects of love and neglect. Born into a world that seemed intent on breaking him, he was left at a hospital as a toddler by his mother when he got sick. Cornett's grandmother from South Carolina bridged the distance to rescue him, providing a transient haven in Hopkins, SC. However, the semblance of stability was short-lived. He was taken to Indiana by the man his mother had married around the time of his conception, not his biological father. This move was dictated more by duty than affection. Arriving in Indiana, Cornett discovered he’d gotten remarried.
The veneer of family unity quickly cracked, revealing the dark underbelly of an abusive home. The scars were not just emotional; they were physical— During one such incident, as Cornett lay on the floor after being beaten, his step-mother and non-biological father’s demeaning words hurled at him—"You're never going to amount to anything. You're going to be a piece of trash. You will never accomplish anything in life"—threatened to crush his spirit. Yet, it was in this low moment that Cornett’s resolve crystalized. Silently promising, "Watch, just watch," he decided, in that moment, that he would define his life by his own measures of success.
"I walked into school the next day and my hair had blood in it from a wound on the back of my head,” Cornett explains, “it was from my stepmother.” When a vigilant kindergarten teacher refused to turn a blind eye, Cornett was ushered into the arms of the law and, subsequently, into the foster care system.
Fate, or perhaps a rare stroke of kindness, placed Cornett in the care of an elderly couple who lived on a farm—a stark contrast to his previous abodes. Life on the farm was simple and stringent. Television time was a rare treat, restricted to just an hour on Saturday mornings. Instead of modern plumbing, an outhouse was the norm. The farm served as both a workplace and a classroom, where tasks like tending to crops and harvesting berries filled the days. The Amish neighbors, in exchange for the farm’s crops, shared their milk, instilling in young Cornett the importance of community and the rewards of hard work.
This pastoral peace was shattered when Cornett’s sisters, too, victims of abuse, joined him at the foster home. But the system, with its flawed compass, eventually circled back, returning the children to the very environment that had bruised their young lives.
Cornett's life was a patchwork of siblings, some bound by blood, others by circumstance. Two sisters and a brother shared his mother's lineage, while three others were daughters of the man his mother married. Tragedy struck the Cornett family when his brother, Timothy, a beacon of potential with a passion for robotics and electronics, succumbed to his demons and took his own life at just 16.
The carousel of guardians continued to rotate, and Cornett found himself oscillating between Indiana and the false promises of a mother who lured him with the dreams of Disney World—a dream that would remain just that, a figment of a child's hopeful imagination.
“I was in second grade, and my mother popped into the picture out of nowhere. I hadn’t seen her, hadn't heard from her. But she showed up and all I know is I was at a courthouse in a little bitty town, and she promised to take me to Disney World if I moved in with her. And when the judge asked where I wanted to go, I said I wanted to go there,” Cornett shares.
Cornett moved in with his mother, who’d remarried. At just nine years old, Cornett found himself on construction sites, subjected to the heavy hand and erratic behavior of his stepfather, a biker known for his alcohol-fueled outbursts. His childhood was devoid of leisure, replaced instead by grueling labor and unpredictable aggression. Despite his stepfather's acts of generosity, including offering well-paying summer jobs that funded Cornett's restoration of a prized '68 Mustang, the lingering scars of abuse and tension persisted.
"In ninth grade, I woke up to a shotgun in my face," he begins, his voice steady as he recalls the chilling morning when his stepfather stormed into his room. The question 'where's your mom?' was repeated, a double barrel shotgun looming ominously as the man prepared to fire.
The tension broke when, "like divine intervention," his mother arrived, unexpectedly backdropped by the roar of a motorcycle and the company of another man. Cornett describes the moment with an almost detached irony: his stepfather, the poor marksman, wildly opening fire and missing.
Stepping outside, Cornett confronted a scene of domestic violence: his stepfather attacking his mother. Fortunately, help was already on the way, as signaled by approaching sirens, prompted by concerned neighbors. His stepfather fled on his motorcycle, only to call Cornett later, justifying his actions with claims of manhood. Cornett, reflecting on the incident, smiled as he recounted his response in ninth grade: "A man would never hit a woman, and I don't think you were very manly."
With all their belongings hastily packed into a U-Haul, Cornett, only 14 years old, and his family fled the shadows of Tennessee violence for the safety of his grandmother's home in South Carolina. Unfortunately, the turmoil did not end there.
First, Cornett's great-grandfather, a pastor and pillar of strength in their lives, passed away, followed closely by his great-grandmother. Then, a few weeks later, his grandfather succumbed to emphysema, leaving Cornett and his sister to navigate the rocky terrain of high school life alone while his grandmother traveled out of state constantly for work.
Soon after, Cornett’s mother returned, bringing temporary stability to their household in Hopkins, SC. But her presence was short-lived before leaving yet again to move in with a new boyfriend in Fort Jackson, SC, leaving teenage Cornett and his sister, to bore the brunt of survival once again. They braved cold winters with plywood-covered windows and washed clothes in the bathtub, borrowing detergent and hanging laundry around the house to dry.
When their mother's fleeting romance ended, she returned, but not for long. By the following summer, Cornett found himself alone again, this time truly homeless after a sojourn in Indiana. His mother had moved to Tennessee, his sister was gone, and Cornett, still just a high schooler, sought refuge with his grandmother once more.
His home life found a semblance of stability when his uncle, a truck driver, moved in. Despite the frequent absences of his guardian figures, his uncle's presence brought a welcome semblance of family. Cornett's life was a solitary one, but he was determined, focusing on school and the future.
In the tapestry of Cornett's high school years, there was a thread that glimmered with the unexpected — a moment that would subtly align the chapters of his life yet to come. Back then, Cornett was the embodiment of teenage rebellion: long hair, black fingernail polish, and eyeliner were his armor against a world that hadn’t always been kind.
In 10th grade, a casual challenge among friends led Cornett to a youth group at a church. With curiosity piqued, he tagged along, unaware of what awaited. His unconventional appearance drew the attention of a stranger, who approached him with open arms and words of kindness: "Son, I don't know you, but you need this." It was a hug that felt like the final piece to a puzzle he didn’t even know he was putting together — a gesture of unconditional love that filled a void he'd long carried.
“She handed me a Bible,” Cornett reminisces. A gift that would become a cornerstone in his life. It was a token of faith that he would eventually pass down to his oldest son, a symbol of the legacy of love and belief that he wished to impart.
“I found Romans 12:21, which says, ‘do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good.’ And I kind of made that my goal. I wasn't going to let my past or all the negative things I'd been through set me back or make me believe that I can't be successful,” Cornett says.
Approaching the threshold of high school graduation, Cornett found himself reluctantly dialing a number he had long avoided. He had a bone to pick with his stepfather, who’d robbed him of his hard-earned mustang. “I called him, and I was going to tell him that he owed me a Mustang,” Cornett recalls. “He answered, and he said, son, I'm glad you called. I've changed. I cut my hair. I sold my motorcycle. I don't drink. I'm building a church right now in Tennessee and I want you to come help me.”
Thanks to a youth group that encouraged him to explore his spirituality, Cornett found the courage to accept his stepfather's invitation. Their collaboration in Tennessee wasn't just about construction plans; it was about sharing a vision. As they worked together, they not only built a steeple but also bridged emotional gaps formed by past conflicts. With each nail driven, their understanding grew. His stepfather, expressing remorse for past actions, sought reconciliation. Beneath the rising church, forgiveness bloomed, signaling a renewed bond.
Cornett then sought closure on another front. He picked up the phone, dialed the number of his stepmother, and extended an olive branch, "Hey, I forgive you," he said, the words heavy with the hope of healing old wounds. But the response was a door slammed shut: "I don't care, I didn't ask for it.” It was a rebuff that stung, a dismissal that left him with a bitter taste.
In the interlude between these calls, Cornett's journey took an unexpected turn. As he stood on the precipice of adulthood, ready to enlist in the Air Force, an offer from a military college in Alabama diverted his path. Skeptical at first, the promise of a paid education and a commission as an officer was too significant to pass up for someone from a family where college was not the norm. "My family doesn't go to college," he recalled thinking, a realization that propelled him to accept the offer.
Thus began his time with the Alabama National Guard, where he cultivated discipline and dedication, traits that would carry him far. He emerged from college ranked fourth in his class, returning to the South Carolina Army National Guard as a lieutenant at the tender age of 19. Commanding a platoon of soldiers older than himself, he faced the daunting task of earning their trust and assuring them of his leadership.
His approach was humility. Heeding the advice of a special forces major — "know that you don't know anything" — he sought the wisdom of his platoon sergeant. "Will you teach me?" he asked. The sergeant's affirmation, "You're gonna be okay," was a pivotal moment, a nod of confidence that Cornett would cherish.
In 2005, while Cornett was set to take a life-changing polygraph for the Columbia Police Department, his phone rang. On the other end was an attorney with news that would add yet another layer of complexity to his life: he had a newborn daughter, and he needed to make an immediate decision about her future. With only 30 minutes to choose, the weight of the situation bore down on him. Without a support network and working part-time at a church and in the National Guard, he made the heart-wrenching decision to sign the paperwork for her adoption.
After making this difficult choice, Cornett went to the hospital. There, he held his baby girl, kissed her, and said goodbye. Then, with a heavy heart, he proceeded to take his polygraph test, passing it despite the emotional turmoil. Cornett transitioned to the Columbia Police Department, starting with regular patrol duties before taking on more intense responsibilities in the community response team. This role included night shifts, court appearances, and interventions in violent crimes, alongside SWAT duties, leading eventually to a promotion to Corporal. Eventually, Cornett initiated a fugitive team, despite initial reservations. Tracking down violent offenders led to his promotion as supervisor of the narcotics unit, overseeing organized crime.
It was during one of his night shifts that Cornett met his wife, Sarah. She was a student at the University of South Carolina, and he was working in Five Points, SC.
“I met her when I was 24. She worked at a ‘Pop’s Pizza’ joint that gave out free pizza to police officers. She was beautiful, and I would eat that terrible pizza just to see her.”
Their courtship was far from typical, with missed dates due to Cornett's commitments to training with the SWAT team. Yet, when they finally connected, their relationship quickly escalated from dating to engagement, and then to marriage, all within the span of mere weeks. The whirlwind romance reflects the decisive nature that had guided Cornett through life's challenges, leading him to seize happiness when it presented itself. “She’s my best friend,” Cornett shares. “And we’ve been married 17 years.”
A few years later, a chief position in Springdale caught his eye through a local newspaper ad. Initially hesitant due to his age, he applied after encouragement from his wife and colleagues. Surprisingly, he was offered the role after an interview, becoming chief in February 2012, leading a dedicated team of eight officers. Fast forward to 2019, Cornett applied to work for the Isle of Palms Police Department because Sarah always wanted to return to her hometown in the Lowcountry near Beaufort. Today, the couple share four boys, Skyler (7), Zachary (11), Chase (13), and their oldest, Timothy (14), named aptly after Cornett’s late brother.
In December 2023, Cornett’s daughter, whom he’d given up for adoption, contacted him. “I had been calling the attorney every year since her birth, seeking updates. She reached out to me the Tuesday before Christmas, and we met,” Cornett reveals, smiling. “Gosh, she's a remarkable 19-year-old attending the University of South Carolina. My boys have met her-they love her, too – and joke that she's like my son Timothy, but with long hair.”
The Cornett household is full of life and energy. Cornett finds joy in teaching his boys how to stack up on a door and "clear a room" — games that make him “like Superman” in their eyes.
The family humorously dubbed their minivan the "UFAV," standing for "urban family assault vehicle," a playful nod to their adventurous spirit and Cornett's law enforcement background. Parenting, for Cornett, is a journey of learning and improvisation, informed by his own experiences of "what not to do" and the creation of new memories with his children. "One thing that sets me apart is that I constantly tell my kids I love them. I’ll randomly yell down the hall, making it a point to tell each of them individually, out of the blue, 'I love you.' It's essential for them to feel loved and valued,” Cornett shares.
Cornett had long believed he was the first in his family to don the badge and uphold the law, but destiny had a remarkable revelation in store. In 2021, a DNA test uncovered his true heritage: he was not just a police officer but a third-generation one, following in the footsteps of his newly discovered biological father, Earnest Boyd, and grandfather who had both served as chief law enforcement officers.
The discovery was astounding; he had not only found his biological father, but a lineage steeped in the same calling he had unknowingly pursued. He met his father in July of that year, a meeting that would hold a place of profound significance as his father passed away in December, just a few short months later. Cornett was gifted with a brief but powerful connection, learning of brothers he never knew he had.
The siblings he found were diverse in their occupations, several working with Amish construction companies in southern Indiana, echoing his own experiences with the Amish during his childhood. His sister and her husband were in construction equipment, while his brother, Kevin — sharing his name — ran a waste management company, illustrating the uncanny parallels between their lives.
Today, Cornett proudly displays his father's law enforcement badge next to his own in his office, honoring his legacy. Despite age differences, Cornett remains close with newfound siblings, expanding his sense of family beyond biological ties to include the sisters he grew up with, enriching his life with a sense of belonging.
Celebrating five years with the Isle of Palms Police Department in June 2024, Cornett revels in the diversity of his responsibilities. Each day presents new challenges, from managing powerful storms to ensuring public safety amidst shifting tides. Unlike his previous post in Columbia, encounters with local wildlife, especially alligators, require hands-on management to ensure community safety. “In Columbia, if someone reported an Alligator sighting, we’d be like, yeah, don’t pet it,” Cornett jokes.
“When I was a kid, I wanted to work with endangered animals, and fate sort of led me to protect endangered species here on IOP, like turtles and birds” Cornett says. His tenure here has been marked by managing the delicate balance between protecting wildlife and adapting to population surges, showcasing the multifaceted nature of his role.
Cornett holds onto the philosophy that improving someone's worst day, even in a small way, is a valuable service. Echoing sentiments from "The Dark Knight Rises," he knows that “heroism isn't always about grand rescues but often about providing a measure of comfort or a moment of kindness when it's needed most.”
As Cornett looks forward to future aspirations, he is considering a path that continues his commitment to public service beyond the sphere of law enforcement. His intent, upon retirement, is to enter the political arena, with aspirations of potentially running for U.S. Congress. “I am keenly aware of the significant influence legislators and Congress members have in shaping our society,” he shares.
His years of service have shown him the impact of dedicated public servants, and he believes that God has positioned him to serve the public in various capacities throughout his life. His vision for the future is not just about a change in career but an extension of his lifelong commitment to serving and improving the community on a broader scale.
Chief Kevin Cornett's life is a testament to the power of resilience, the capacity for redemption, and the enduring spirit of service. From the depths of childhood adversity to the pinnacle of leadership as the esteemed head of the Isle of Palms Police Department, his journey is marked by unwavering determination, integrity, and compassion. With each chapter of his life, Cornett has defied the odds, emerging stronger, wiser, and more committed to making a positive impact on the world around him. As he continues to lead with grace and humility, his legacy serves as an inspiration to all who encounter his story, reminding us that no matter the challenges we face, there is always hope for a brighter tomorrow.
AWARDS:
In 2017, Chief Kevin Cornett made history as the second Springdale Police Department member to attend the prestigious FBI National Academy, reserved for the top 1% of law enforcement leaders globally, showcasing his unwavering commitment to excellence.
He currently serves as the first vice president for the South Carolina chapter of the FBI National Academy Associates, inspiring his team with his achievement. His dedication to community service earned him the title of Public Servant of the Year from Sexual Trauma Services of the Midlands in the same year.
His participation in "Walk a Mile in Her Shoes," an event supporting victims of sexual violence, became deeply personal when a recent victim thanked him at the event, unaware of his involvement, reinforcing his dedication.
Chief Cornett's accolades include a South Carolina House of Representatives house resolution and a special congressional recognition from U.S. Congressman Joe Wilson in 2019. These honors, alongside numerous commendations, highlight his exceptional service and contributions to law enforcement and the community.
