North State Voices: Christmas 2010

The seeds of a man’s destruction are planted deeply within his own heart.

This thought has been on my mind for several weeks now. Partly for personal reasons and partly from the experiences I’ve had in my professional life. These experiences have made me focus on the beliefs and mindsets, as well as what I have thought to be, “True” throughout my life. It’s been both affirming, as well as illuminating the things that are of little value in my life.

In large part, I believe that we are born individuals, with inherent personalities. This is modified by the experiences that happen to us, as well as the actions we take in life. It’s these actions that take us along one of many of life’s paths.

I recently spoke with a man who had found the end of his path. He’d called 911 and needed help. As my partner and I spoke with him, we found that he had grown up in an inner city where he began to abuse alcohol and cigarettes. He was raised with a heavy dependence on his racial identity, as well as the belief that the, “good life” lay on the path of money, and perceived power. He lived that life, repeating the same cycles over and over, until in his latter 30’s he found himself addicted, empty, and in despair. 30 plus years of living with a belief system came crashing down when he found that that system was as empty as the packaging it came in.

We spoke as we drove to the councilor’s office and I could sense a change in his heart. This was the turning point in his life and it was apparent that he was now seeing the hope that there was something more to life, as well as a chance to place his feet on another path.

As a Police Officer, I have the unique opportunity to visit numerous families and homes. This affords me the chance to observe family and personal dynamics from a perspective, often times more objectively than the people therein. I watch as child after child is sent off on the same path, never knowing that it leads to nowhere.

On this path, there is no guide but the distant laughter and glittering promises of fun and excitement. It’s as a mirage, just out of grasp. Drawing them further and further into the desert; never knowing until the end that it was empty vapor.

I watch the teenage young men who are fairly advanced on their journey along this path. Theirs is the pathway of “pain management.” Not anger management mind you, as that is what gives them a sense of power and control over their situations.

These are the young men, whom as children lived in homes full of anger, dysfunctional communication and violence. These were the children to whom Santa rarely came.

I thought for my last piece in this column, I could write a nice fluffy piece about Santa and Christmas memories and the like, but that wasn’t what was in my heart. I believe in Christmas. I believe in Christ. And during this holiday season, I’m choosing to do my little part, whenever I get a call to deal with someone on that path, to do my best to help them see another way.

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North State Voices: Dear Rookie...

North State Voices: Dear Rookie: Get ready for a challenge
Chico Enterprise-Record (Chico, CA) - Thursday, September 23, 2010

Dear Officer:

Congratulations on your new career. You're only one of 12 or so graduates from your police academy who actually got a job as a law enforcement officer.

You've passed a physical test, a background check and a psychological screening. Those are no easy feats.

As you enter this new field though, there are a few things I thought you should know.

Your first five years will be the most exciting of your life. You will look forward every day to going to work. You will show up early and you will go home late because the job is so much fun. What could be better than this?

Come about four to five years, though, something will start to change. It will be subtle and very difficult to understand. What's changing is you. More specifically, what is changing is your ability to deal with what you see. As psychologist Bobby Smith teaches, your cup will become full and there will be no room for anything else. Each new drop causes the cup to overflow.

You see, you are entering a field where approximately 52 bad guys kill officers in America every year. While this is a terrible number, the amount of officers who die by their own hand every year is on average 482.

You are entering a career field that is great at teaching you to defend yourself from violent encounters, but lousy at teaching its own officers to deal with the stresses caused by what they encounter.

The public you have sworn to protect and serve has no idea of what things you deal with. They have no clue that "those" types of things happen in "their town." The truth is they don't want to know. That's what makes them feel safe. And that's OK.

When you tell people what you do, they will assume they know everything about you. Their idea of law enforcement is largely gained by watching television and from that "one time" they got pulled over and got a ticket. And I guess that's OK too.

You will go inside "homes" that will make you sick. You will see filth and death and inhumanity in its worst forms. You will be judged by people. You will be yelled at, called a racist, a liar, a thief, a pig and told by people who pay no taxes that they "pay your salary." You will be expected to hold your tongue, stand tall and not let it bother you.

You will maintain a constant state of hyper-vigilance at work. You will crash harder than most others when you get home. You will carry a burden of stress continually from week to week, which eventually comes to feel "normal." This is a wicked cycle that takes a horrible toll.

You are not the only one who will pay for your career choice. Your wife and children will suffer consequences too. Your sons will suffer a greater likelihood of attention deficit disorders and type-2 diabetes. Your family will often not have daddy home for major events and holidays. Your wife will suffer many lonely nights, wondering if she will get the knock at the door, telling her that her world has just been turned upside down. She'll put on a good front, but inside it will tear her heart just a little every time you kiss her goodbye.

So, how do you survive? How do you keep from becoming one of the 482?

Exercise. Eat only good foods. Sleep well (good luck with that). Familiarize yourself with the works of modern police psychologists. They will give you the skills necessary to counteract the constant diet of negativity "the job" feeds you.

Perhaps the best thing you could do is to serve. Truly serve. The best moments in your career will be the times you show compassion and truly help someone. So many won't accept your help, but those times you connect with someone and make their lives better are the times that bring true satisfaction and make the costs of "the job" worth it.

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North State Voices: Remembering Randy Jennings

REMEMBERING RANDY

He stood in his green and tan uniform, filling the hallway with his large frame. He’d missed SWAT training due to scheduling issues and was noticeably disappointed. I don’t know why I stopped to look back, as the team was leaving, but as I did, the thought came to my mind, “What a tall, handsome man.” It was the last time I saw him, for in a matter of days he would be dead.

Randy Jennings was a Deputy with the Butte County Sheriff’s Department for 9 years. During his career, he’d worked in the jail, the courts, the civil division and in the special enforcement unit. He taught arrest and control techniques at Butte College and was a team member on the Special Incident Response Team. It was his dream and he worked hard to get on the team.

It was the night of May 21, 1997 Randy was working an overtime shift, covering south county. The call was for a domestic violence incident in Thermalito. A distraught wife who had fled the residence and a husband who was possessed by an, “evil spirit” having gone out after her. He’s left the residence. Does he have any guns? No? Alright.

Within a few minutes, Randy spotted the suspect at 10th and Grand. A short foot pursuit ensued into the field adjacent to a church. Without warning, the man who supposedly didn’t have a gun, spun and fired at Randy. He was hit.

Now, from a simple domestic violence call, Randy was in the fight for his life. He drew his sidearm and returned fire. The suspect now too was mortally hit. With reasoning only known to the unreasonable, the suspect turned his gun towards his heart and ended his own life.

“County 30, “ This was Randy’s last earthly transmission. The cup was broken. It would hold his life no more.

The funeral and its proceedings are a vague memory now. The members of the Special Incident Response Team were the pall bearers during the funeral. The dignitaries took our seats, so we sat in a side room of the church and told stories about Randy. It was about the best thing we could have done.

As he was laid to rest, the contingent of helicopters flew the missing man formation. It was so appropriate, as Randy loved flying in the helicopters for the Special Enforcement Unit. In my mind, it was then that his soul left and was free to go home.

Today, hundreds of people drive over the Randy Jennings memorial bridge separating Oroville and Thermalito. I wonder how many know the man to whom it was dedicated when they look at the plaque that features Randy’s image.

Many people have come and gone since that time and may not have any idea the complete sacrifice that one man gave to protect his community.

I have a copy of the memorial service in my locker, alongside of a rubbing from the National Peace Officer’s Memorial in Washington D.C. with Randy’s name. It’s the first thing I see every day I go to work and the last thing I see before I close the door on my work day.

In the poem, “In Flanders fields” the author calls out with the voice of those who have died. “To you from failing hands we throw the torch; be yours to hold it high.” For those who worked alongside Randy, these things will ride with us for the remainder of our lives. And despite the darkness, or perhaps in the face of such darkness, the best we can do is to keep the torches taken from those failing hands held high for all to see.

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North State Voices: Remembering Inskip

During the year of 2010, I had the unique opportunity to write for the local newspaper (The Chico Enterprise Record). I used this as a chance to help people understand the impacts of working in the law enforcement have on those who step up to the challenge.

The next several posts are articles relating to law enforcement. I hope you enjoy.

James Dimmitt


REMEMBERING INSKIP

Remembering is a way of honoring. Remembering is a way of tying ourselves and our children to our history and our culture.

This 4th of July season is a time to remember those who gave so much to make us a free people. This season, I choose to remember two local men who gave their lives attempting to maintain the law and order so necessary in a free society.

It was a quiet, warm summer afternoon, perfect for a family trip to Barnes and Noble. I was working as a Deputy with the Butte County Sheriff’s Department. My work pager went off while we were in the children’s book section, indicating that there was a SWAT call out.

I called in and the dispatcher’s voice quietly said, “Larry Estes and Bill Hunter went into a cabin in Inskip and we can’t reach them.” “What?” was all I could reply, trying to wrap my mind around what she was saying. She repeated herself and I hung up the phone. “This can’t be happening again.”

It was July 26, 2001 and that phone call began one of the darkest nights of my life. After dropping my family off, I was transported along with the other members of the Sheriff’s Department Special Incident Response Team (S.I.R.T.) to the Inskip Inn via helicopter.

We were briefed, finding that the Magalia resident Deputy, Bill Hunter had been dispatched to a disturbance call involving firearms. Lieutenant Larry Estes, finishing up administrative work in the area responded to back the lone Deputy. The two made entry into the small red two-story cabin and had not responded since.

Our information was that the suspect was in the cabin, reportedly with an AK-47 and likely other firearms. Going into the cabin that night, everyone on S.I.R.T. truly believed that they were going to be shot, if not killed.

A rescue was devised after which there were a few minutes to make final preparations. One of my team mates caught my shoulder as I walked past. He held tight and would not let go. It was then that I realized that he was praying. Here in the middle of the road, my friend whom I’d never known to be particularly spiritual was calling to his Heavenly Father for us to make it through the night.

The entry was made and we found the worst had occurred. Our friends were dead, ambushed upon entering the tiny cabin. In an act of pure courage, Lieutenant Estes stood barrel to barrel with the suspect, exchanging gunfire. Both men found their mark.

Even now, I can close my eyes and see that awful scene. Somehow, with time I suppose, those visions have faded somewhat into the background of my mind.

There are five law enforcement Officers who have given their lives protecting our communities in Butte County. CHP Officer William R. McDaniel (1934), Chico Police Officer Carleton J. Bruce (1938), Deputy Randy E. Jennings (1997), Deputy Bill Hunter and Lieutenant Larry Estes (2001). These are the men who have given everything to protect our citizens.

Their names and the lives they lived should always be remembered. In your July 4th celebrations, would you spend some time telling your children their stories?

Teaching them that there are those who stood against all odds to keep us free.

Published May 2010 Chico Enterprise Record

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"A Cop's Christmas"

I've held this story in my files for many years now. It's a story by a Long Island Officer's experience several years ago. I found it when I was a Deputy and haven't had the heart to throw it out, as every time I read it, it gets to me. Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays from us at the Chico Blue Review.

"A Cop's Christmas"

Sgt. Stan R. Kid of Long Island

One of the first things a new police officer learns is that cops work on holidays. It's a fact of life. Crime never takes a holiday. In 1974, when I first joined the police department, I knew there would be special occasions my family would spend without me. Knowing that didn't make the task any easier. The celebrations I missed during those first years depressed me and sometimes made me feel bitter. Working on Christmas Eve was always the worst. It felt like a thankless job. On Christmas Eve in 1977, I learned that blessings can come disguised as misfortune, and honor is more than just a word.

I was riding one-man patrol on the 4:00 p.m. to midnight shift. The night was cold. Everywhere I drove I saw reminders of the holidays. Families were packing their cars with presents. Beautifully decorated Christmas trees in living room windows and roofs adorned with tiny sleighs made me feel even more sorry for myself.

The evening had been relatively quiet. There were calls for a barking dog, a minor auto accident, a false burglar alarm. There was nothing to make the night go faster. I thought of my own family and sank more deeply into depression.

Shortly after 10:00 p.m., I got a radio call to the home of an elderly cancer patient. I stopped in front of a simple Cape Cod style house. First-aid kit in hand, I walked up the path to the front door. As I approached, a woman who seemed about 80 years old opened the door. "He's in here, " she said, leading me into the back bedroom.

We passed through a living room furnished in a style I had come to associate with older people. The sofa had an afghan blanket draped over its back and a dark, solid colored Queen Anne chair sat next to an unused fireplace. The mantle was cluttered with an eclectic mix of several photos, some porcelain figurines and an antique clock. A floor lamp provided soft lighting.

We entered a small back bedroom where a frail looking old man lay in the bed with a blanket pulled up to his chin. He wore a blank stare on his ashen, skeletal face. His breathing was shallow; he was barely alive.

The trappings of illness were all around the bed. The nightstand was littered with a large number of pill vials. An oxygen bottle stood nearby, its thin plastic hose, with facemask attached, rested on the blanket.

I asked the woman why she called for the police. She simply shrugged and nodded sadly toward her husband, indicating it was his request. I looked at him and he stared intently into my eyes. He seemed relaxed now. I didn't understand the suddenly-calm expression on his face.

I looked around the room again. A dresser stood along the wall to the left of the bed. On it were the usual memorabilia-ornate perfume bottles, a white porcelain case and a wooden jewelry tray. There were also several photos in simple frames. One caught my eye and I walked to the dresser for a closer look. The picture showed a young man wearing a police uniform. It was unmistakably a photo of the man in the bed. I knew then why I was there.

I looked at the old man and he motioned with his head toward the side of his bed. I walked over and stood beside him. He slid a thin arm from under the covers and took my hand. Soon, I felt his hand go limp. I looked at his face. There was no fear there. I only saw peace.

He knew he was dying; he was aware his time was very near. I know now that he was afraid of what was about to happen and he wanted the protection of a fellow cop on his journey.

A caring God had seen to it that His child would be delivered safely to Him. The honor of being his escort fell to me.

Since that night, I have considered it a high honor to be present at the moment of a person's death. As a cop, I have had that honor many times and feel I have been given a very special responsibility: ensuring someone's safe passage home to his or her Father.

I no longer feel sorry for myself for having to work on Christmas Eve. I have chosen an honorable profession. I pray that when my time comes to leave this world that there will be a cop there to hold my hand and let me know I have nothing to fear.

I wish all my brothers and sisters who have to work this Christmas Eve all the Joy of the Season.

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The people in your neighborhood...Traffic Officer

I recently had the opportunity to speak with Officer Travis Johnson. Officer Johnson is currently assigned to the traffic division and answered some questions about his enforcement activities:

CBR: How long have you been in law enforcement?

Officer Johnson: 8 years.

CBR: How long have you been assigned as a traffic Officer?

Officer Johnson: 3 years.

CBR: What does your typical day entail?

Officer Johnson: I usually start my day with traffic enforcement during the busy evening commute hours. After the traffic slows down, I return to the police station to complete reports and other office duties. In the late evening hours and early morning hours, I concentrate my efforts to the detection of DUI violators.

CBR: What type of enforcement do you do?

Officer Johnson: Enforce the vehicle code by issuing citations, investigate traffic collisions and DUI enforcement.

CBR: Why is it important to work traffic?

Officer Johnson: Multiple studies by organizations such as the National Highway Traffic Safety Administration and the Office of Traffic Safety show that when traffic enforcement by law enforcement is increased, traffic collisions are decreased.

CBR: Are there other benefits to working traffic?

Officer Johnson: Another benefit of stopping vehicles is the ability to detect other types of crimes. An occupant may be wanted or be in possession of illegal items. Additionally, if criminals see Officers stopping a large amount of vehicles, they may chose to leave the areas in favor of one that does not have a high level of enforcement.

CBR: Do most people complain at the time of their tickets?

Officer Johnson: Actually, the far majority of citizens that I issue citations to do not complain and take responsibility for their driving.

CBR: There is a popular myth about quotas. Do you have quotas on tickets?

Officer Johnson: The Chico Police Department does not have any quotas for issuing citations.

CBR: Where do you think those myths came from?

Officer Johnson: Some departments do have quotas, but more than that, I think most citizens believe that citations are issued as a way of generating money for the department.

CBR: Do you get paid any extra for writing tickets?

Officer Johnson: I do not get paid any extra for writing citations. If fact, the issuing agency receives only a very small portion of the cost of the citation. The majority of the money received from issuing a citation goes to the State.

CBR: You have turned in some very impressive DUI arrests over the last years. Why do you focus on DUI’s so much?

Officer Johnson: Year after year, more American Citizens are killed in DUI related collisions than by all violent crimes put together. On average, a little more then 17,000 people are killed each year. This is a tragedy that is so easily prevented, yet it continues to destroy families every year.

CBR: What recognition have you received recently regarding your DUI enforcement?

Officer Johnson: I have been honored both locally and at the state level for the high number of DUI arrests I have made. However, these awards have nothing to do with my determination to remove impaired drivers from the road. I simply want our roads to be safe for the innocent people that are responsibly driving.

CBR: If there was one thing you could let the public know about your job, what would it be?

Officer Johnson: If we all slowed down a little bit and drove in a courteous manner, the road would be a safer and more enjoyable place for us all to be on.

Additionally, to those who may chose to drive under the influence of drugs or alcohol - If you are stopped and you are impaired, don't bother asking for a "break" or a "warning." I do not care if your livelihood depends on your ability to drive. You will be arrested. You will go to jail.

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The people in your neighborhood...Public Safety Dispatcher

For the first interview in this line of posts, I interviewed public safety dispatcher (A.K.A. 911 Operator) Wendy Gebicke. I have known Wendy for about 4 years and really like her insights into the job. She is an interresting person who has a GREAT deal of patience on the job. For those who don't know, Public Safety Dispatchers are the first line in dealing with emergencies and often have to help calm and sort through the problems of both hostile and hysterical callers.

It takes a very special person to be a successful Public Safety Dispatcher. I have seen several people try their hand at the job and quit soon thereafter. They have a very hectic job and are constantly juggling information.

Chico Blue Review (CBR): How long have you been a public safety dispatcher?

PSD Gebicke: 15 years.

CBR: What does your typical day entail?

PSD Gebicke: Answering 911 & business calls. Dispatching fire & police calls on the radio.

CBR: What type of calls do you take in a day?

PSD Gebicke: Shootings, stabbings, robberies, assaults, brandishing weapons calls, domestic violence, fights, dui's, stolen vehicles, welfare checks...the list goes on.

CBR: What type of training do you have to take part in to become a PSD?

PSD Gebicke: 3 weeks of schooling but the most important training is on the job & that can take years. I still learn something new almost every day.

CBR: What type of personality does it take to be a successful PSD?

PSD Gebicke: I think first and foremost you have to want to help people. That is really what this job is all about. You have to keep a good attitude and try to treat people like you would want to be treated.

CBR: What was one of the funniest 911 calls you've taken?

PSD Gebicke: Just recently, I took a call where the male caller thought "wildlife" was after him. I asked what kind of wildlife "bears, coyotes, deer?" Due to his intoxicated state, he couldn't understand WHAT it was that was after him. His roommate then got on the phone and said he had seen a raccoon in their yard & was concerned for his safety...

CBR: What is one of the most annoying reasons people call 911 for?

PSD Gebicke: Noise complaints. People need to understand that 911 is for life-threatening emergencies.

CBR: Are there any calls that stick with you, and why?

PSD Gebicke: Anything to do with children is hard. I think it is sometimes hard to be a dispatcher in general, because we never hear what happens as the end result. We are helping people with what is probably one of the worst days of their lives. We send help to them but rarely ever hear what happened at the end of that call.

CBR: What other responsibilities do you have at the Chico Police Department?

PSD Gebicke: I am also a tactical assistant on the SWAT team. I help the lieutenant run the command post on most critical incidents. As a tactical assistant I am responsible for all radio traffic between the SWAT team & the command post. I am also responsible for mapping the area, keeping track of the officers locations and making sure the communications are clear, consise & understood.

CBR: Is there anything you would like the public to know about being a PSD?

PSD Gebicke: One of the biggest misconceptions that people on the other side of the phone have is that if they are answering our questions, it is somehow delaying a response to their problem. This is not true. The person talking to them on the phone has given the call over the person who is dispatching it on the radio. This is all happening while we are asking you questions. So...answer our questions, it helps us to help you. Remember we are human too and are doing our best to help you.

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