One psychologist knows the terror and traumaof police work
firsthand: He's also a cop.
The smoke from the shooting was still drifting through the
intersection as my police car slid to a stop at the crime scene. The
perpetrator, Ron, was a cop. He had already confirmed that the suspect
was dead and was absentmindedly holstering his weapon, staring blankly
into space. This was yet another fatal shooting in a string of shootings
already being scrutinized by the media and activist groups. Ron knew that
regardless of his legal and tactical justifications, things were going to
get ugly again. As the department psychologist, I knew he was
right.
I bought Ron something to eat to get his blood sugar up and had him
call home to his family to let them know he was all right, but that they
might see something on the evening news. The meal also gave Ron an
opportunity to compose himself for the upcoming interrogations. We
briefly explored ways to deal with the impending negative media coverage.
Understandably, Ron was upset about having to kill the suspect. He was
moderately anxious, but still fully functional.
Law enforcement officers are more stringently screened than people
in any other occupation. Officers tend to be mentally stable and
resilient. This allows them to absorb emotional blows, function during
times of crisis, recover and go on. But that doesn't mean that they don't
suffer psychological damage. Many officers pay a heavy price for trying
to serve and protect. They can become depressed, lonely and suicidal. The
job can erode one's soul.
Cops and deputies see a lot of death. The San Francisco City-County
Medical Examiners Office reported 7,188 deaths for fiscal year 1998-1999;
there were 7,051 in fiscal year 1997-1998, and around 1,700 of these are
brought into the coroner's office for police investigation, so everyone
sees a number of death cases a year. In the study I did for my doctoral
dissertation, I asked officers in San Francisco how many times they had
responded to a variety of cases. The mean estimated number of death cases
for each officer was 4.5 per year. Following are the officer estimates of
the types and number of cases they responded to in a 10-year period:
homicide [14]; child abuse [28]; domestic violence [127]; death [45];
resisting arrest [45]; assaults upon a police officer [25]; drunk driving
[58]; and family disturbance [452]. Ninety-one percent said they had been
injured to the extent that they could not work.
Counseling police in trauma, like Ron, is part of my job. I've
worked in crisis intervention and stress training for over 20 years. I am
a licensed clinical psychologist. But l have a distinct advantage over
other psychologists working with the police: I am also a cop. I've been
in the San Francisco police department for over 50 years. The majority of
my experience is in uniformed patrol. My familiarity with law enforcement
and being part of the police subculture affords me a degree of
credibility and access unavailable to almost all civilian psychologists,
allowing me to help my fellow officers in ways that other psychologists
can't. This involves not only understanding the mental health crisis cops
face on the job, but implementing programs like peer support and making
it easier for them to get health insurance.
Fighting Crime--and Burnout
There had been a time when I preferred patrol assignments to those
involving psychology. I can remember the day and events that changed my
mind.
Blood is bright red when it's fresh. There was a pool of it at my
feet that Easter Sunday morning. It was coming from the back of a dead
woman's head, filling the cracks in the sidewalk with a bronze sludge as
it dried. Another woman had shot the victim during a drug deal gone bad.
We were in the courtyard of the old Alemany Projects in San Francisco's
Mission District. A female relative of the dead woman was wailing and
trying to cradle the victim in her arms. The dead woman was bigger than
her relative, however, and, being limp, was too heavy to be cradled. She
would flop out of her relative's grasp and bounce back against the
sidewalk. I knew from bitter experience that it would incite the crowd to
separate the relative and victim forcibly, so the grotesque grasping,
fumbling and flopping became bloodier and bloodier.
It was over a half-hour before the coroner arrived, and by then,
the relative was finally willing to give up the body. By the time we beat
our way into the suspect's locked apartment, we knew she was long gone. I
remember leaving the apartment and realizing my shoes were wet from urine
on the stairs. Walking out into the bright sunshine, I felt tired and
sad.
Being a cop for over 28 years, mostly working uniformed patrol in
San Francisco, had been a wonderful experience. Even so, I was feeling
down. I know when I'm getting emotionally overloaded. I tear up over
commercials for Hallmark greeting cards; it's the damn-dest thing. That
Easter Sunday I felt, for the first time, that I didn't want to see and
feel what I had that morning ever again. I had seen much worse. I had had
someone die in my arms. But my ugly quotient had been reached. I was your
typical burnt-out cop.
Tags:
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death cases,
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functional law,
interrogations,
justifications,
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medical examiners office,
negative media coverage,
police,
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police work,
psychological damage,
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