Reference no: EM131373775

PART : The Making of a Bad Cop
What makes a police officer go sour? I can tell you. I was a Denver police officer until not long ago. Then I quit so I could hold my head up. Don't get me wrong. I'm not trying to shift the burden of responsibility for the burglaries, break-ins, safe jobs, and that sort of thing. This is bad, very bad. My concern is about the individual officer-the hard-working, basically honest guy.

For most, being a cop starts out as an honorable, decent way of making a living. Then, as the pressures mount, the guy becomes disillusioned. Before long, he's walking down the road that, for some, leads to the penitentiary. Let's back up a little. The trouble really starts with how you get to be a policeman in Denver. It's a cinch. They ask the predictable questions- "Why do you want to become a police officer?"-and just about everybody gives the predictable answer: "I want to help people." They take five or ten minutes to spot the sadist, the psychopath, the guy with an eye for an easy buck. They weed some out, but some get through. The police academy is point No. 2 in my bill of particulars. It's a fine thing in a way. You meet the cream of the police department. Your expectations soar.

But how well are you really prepared? You have six hectic weeks in which to learn all about the criminal laws you have sworn to enforce, to assimilate the rules of evidence, methods of arbitration, use of firearms, mob and riot control, first aid (including some basic obstetrics), public relations, and so on. And even this early there is a slight sour note. You knew, of course, that you had to provide your own uniforms, your own hat, shoes, pistol, and bullets. What you didn't know was that you don't just choose a tailor shop for price and get the job done, you're sent to a place by the police department- always the same establishment-and you have to pay the price even though the work may be ill fitting.

There's also something intangible that's not on the formal agenda. You begin to learn that the police department is a fraternity into which you are not automatically accepted by your peers. You have to earn your way in; you have to establish that you are all right. If the rookie's fortunate, he gets little signs that he's been making a good impression. It may happen like this: An older cop stops at a bar, comes out with packages of cigarettes. He explains that this is part of the job, getting cigarettes free from proprietors to resell, and that as a part of the rookie's training it's his turn to "make the butts."

So he goes into a skid-row bar and stands uncomfortably at the end waiting for the bartender to acknowledge his presence and disdainfully toss him two packages of butts. A hint of shame takes hold. But he tells himself this is unusual, that in six months, after he's off probation, he will be the upright officer he meant to be. One thing leads to another, and after six months the rookies have become conditioned to accept free meals, a few packages of cigarettes, turkeys at Thanksgiving, and liquor at Christmas from respectable people in the district. The rule book forbids all this. But it's winked at on all levels. So the rookies say to themselves that this is a far cry from stealing, and they can still be good policemen. Besides, their fellow officers are beginning to accept them as good guys. This becomes more and more important as the young officers begin to sense hostility toward them in the community. Other negative aspects of the job also build up, like the people they come in contact with: thieves, con artists, narcotics addicts, and out-and-out nuts. Off the job the officer's associations narrow.

Sometimes, when he tries to mix with neighbors, he senses a kind of strain. When he's introduced to someone, the guy is likely to say, "This is John Jones. He's a police officer." And someone is likely to tell you that there are a few guys in uniform he hates. It's no wonder the officer begins to think of himself as a member of the smallest minority group in the community. The idea gradually sinks in that the only people who understand him, that he can be close to, are his fellow officers. But that isn't the whole story. An officer lives with tensions and with fears. Part of the tensions come from the incredible monotony. Part come from the manifold fears. Paramount is the physical fear that he will get hurt to the point where he can't go on working, or that he will be killed. But his biggest fear is that he will show fear.

This is the reason he will rush heedlessly in on a cornered burglar or an armed maniac if a couple other officers are present. He is now at the stage when he wants to be one of the guys. And then one night his car is sent to check on a "Code 16"-a silent burglar alarm. By the time the officer and his partner get to the scene, the burglar's gone. They call the proprietor. He comes down to look things over. And maybe he says, "Boys, this is covered by insurance, so why don't you take a jacket for your wife, or a pair of shoes." And maybe the officer takes a jacket, just because his partner does. Or maybe the proprietor doesn't come down. But after they get back in the car his partner pulls out four $10 bills and hands him two. "Burglar got careless," says the partner. Mind you, not all officers do this. But for others it's just a few short steps to participating in and planning crimes. And what has happened to a few could happen to others.

Questions for Discussion
From what you have read and learned in Part Three, what decision-making, leader, group, and political influences contribute to the making of a bad cop? What recommendations would you make to restructure the selection, training, and apprenticeship processes to reduce the likelihood that a police rookie will "go bad"?