Guardian angels . . .

It's been a hard couple of weeks. The wolf is at the door again for layoffs. Now they want to eliminate two entire patrol shifts. God help us.
A few nights ago I was going to pick up one of our inmates from another county. I am a deputy sheriff with full arrest powers, I just happened to be assigned to the jail and not patrol. A man turns the wrong way down a one way street in front of me. I stop him in the cruiser. He gets out on me in the middle of a completely shitty section of town. Flight or fight. Looks like flight. Behind me I hear the unmistakable sound of a police K9 and his handler. The driver freezes and suddenly becomes cooperative.
I've never met this officer, he comes from one of the biggest city departments in our state. He works in the county adjacent to mine. We left that stop and I asked how he heard me call the stop out on my channel. He didn't. He told me he was just watching over me.
Thank God for guardian angels.

Callin' Baton Rouge . . .

We have an inmate in our jail on a holder from the Baton Rouge Police Department. Nationwide pickup radius, they will come almost 1,000 miles across more than five states to get their prisoner.
Family calls about the prisoner. "What are they charged with?"
"I don't know, I didn't confirm the warrant. All I can see is the holder."
"Well. When do we know when they'll let them go? They're not coming up here for that."
"Uh. Yes. Yes they are. That's why they sent a holder that says 'We will extradite."
"They don't even know what they're charged with! That's not legal!"
"Tell them to think back to the last time they were in Louisiana and see if any felonies jump out."
"How do you know it's a felony?"
"Police departments don't come 1,000 miles for misdemeanors."
"Well you need to call them and see when they'll lift the holder."
"They're not lifting the holder. An extradition hearing is scheduled for the beginning of the week."
"Do you have the number to Baton Rouge?"
"No."
"Why not?"

That's like asking me why I don't have the number to the police department in Juneau, Alaska. I'm sorry, we don't just call them up to chat on a weekly basis.

Political games . . .

So a friend of mine called today all upset over the elections. Like crying upset. Now to be clear, I'm an informed voter and I enjoy politics in moderation. I could care less about political smear campaigns and constant bickering. She rages on and on about how she's experiencing the stages of grief. No joke. She doesn't work for a candidate or a campaign, she just follows politics.
I'm not trying to be an asshole here, but really?
The candidate you wanted to win lost. I've lost my best friend. You're crying about the governor. I'm trying to put my dress uniform together for an awards ceremony without crying. You can't believe they were predicting the wrong winner in an election. My Sgt. can't believe he had to go tell a child's parents that the media was wrong, their child is dead. You're trying to reconcile the next 2 to 4 years of politics. I'm trying to reconcile leaving my department of 4 years and starting over.
I guess we all take a different view on life.
As I polish my nameplate and collar brass I'm reminded of the one person who would have enjoyed seeing me get my commendation for exemplary service more than me. My award will be just like his. I just wish he was here to see it.

But then, I've been there before . . .

Repeat offender syndrome: (noun) - 1) Displayed by any inmate who informs you "this isn't my first rodeo" or "I've already been to prison so this is nothing." 2) Any pattern of events at the intake desk that lead you to believe the same thing is happening over and over. (i.e everyone has been arrested for domestic violence, is drunk or both) 3) Any time you release someone from jail and they get arrested again during your shift. 4) When any inmate states they got arrested just so they could come to jail for food/shelter 5) When any inmate explains any part of the process to you better than most officers

See also: Rehabilitation (obsolete)

Take it to God . . . or your Lt., whoever you find first

Recently things have been hectic at work, as I'm sure you've gathered from the posts about my coworkers' mental health. Our chief deputy recently came forward and told the sheriff that "our jail is sick." He laid out everything to the sheriff, and it was ugly.
Our lieutenants have been pulling various employees in to talk with them about problems at work. Luckily I got selected by one of the trustworthy ones, you know the supervisors that you can have a meltdown on and they never tell anyone.
When I was done voicing my observations and concerns my Lt looked sick. I don't know if he was ready to take confession when he started the meeting. Some of the things I told him visibly disturbed him. He asked how supervisors could willingly and purposefully belittle a suicidal officer. He asked why no one came and debriefed the officers that had sat with him until help arrived so he couldn't harm himself. He asked how a sergeant could lie and falsify documents to protect one officer and implicate an other.
I had no answers. I still don't.
I feel better, because I gave my problems up to someone with power. I'm pretty sure that's not what my grandmother meant when she told me to give my problems up to higher power. She was talking about God. Unlike my inmates, I have never found God in my jail. I did however find someone willing to listen.
I don't think the administration's willingness to take action now will affect my decision to leave for another agency as soon as the opportunity arises. Just like the Wizard of Oz, you can never go back once you see what evil stands behind the curtain.

Crisis epidemic . . .

When one of my colleagues committed suicide over the holidays I posted this. Now belatedly the people I work with have realized the big picture. Since my date of hire 4 years ago, our department has had 2 suicide attempts while on duty and 10 people go out on "stress evaluation leave." Only 3 of those 10 have returned to duty. 2 officers have walked in to the brass, put their service weapon on the desk and stated: "I'm going to quit or I'm going to kill myself." All but 3 of these incidents have happened within the last year.

My administration is clueless. "What problem?" Like your employees running like lemmings to a cliff isn't a big enough clue something is wrong. More and more officers are expressing signs of stress; yet we are told to do more with less.

This week a man who trained me, joked with me and cried with me simply walked off the job. He walked into the Captain's office laid his equipment and his paperwork on the desk and left. Again I'm left with the feeling of "What did I miss?" Surely to God we should have noticed something in a man we worked with every night, drank with and talked to every day. I hope he's happy in a world far from law enforcement and corrections. I hope we can stop the trend, our lives depend on it. Only thing is, how do you fight a monster you can't see?

No, I am not poison control . . .

One of our frequent fliers calls 911. We get called out for "an overdose on unknown substance." Nice, so it could be bleach or Tums. Upon arrival we find our resident system abuser who says this: "Why are you here?" Behind me I can barely make out my engineer whisper, "I was wondering the same thing."

FF: "I called poison control"
Me: "No, you called 911."
FF: "Well yeah, but that was because I wanted the number to poison control."
Me: "That's what 411 is for, not 911."
FF: "No, 411 is information not poison control, everyone knows that"
Me: "Clearly not."
FF: "So are you going to do your job and give me the number?"
Me: "Did you take something you think is dangerous?"
FF: "No, I wanted to see if this pill my girlfriend gave me is really a Vicodin."
Me: "Right. Go back in the house before I call the cops."