Ileef 2007-7.4 PDF
Ileef 2007-7.4 PDF
FORUM
Police Administration
May 2007
Law Enforcement Executive Forum
Illinois Law Enforcement Training and Standards Board Executive Institute
Western Illinois University
1 University Circle
Macomb, IL 61455
Senior Editor
Thomas J. Jurkanin, PhD
Editor
Vladimir A. Sergevnin, PhD
Associate Editors
Jennifer Allen, PhD
Department of Law Enforcement and Justice Administration,
Western Illinois University
Barry Anderson, JD
Department of Law Enforcement and Justice Administration,
Western Illinois University
Tony Barringer, EdD
Division of Justice Studies, Florida Gulf Coast University
Lewis Bender, PhD
Department of Public Administration and Policy Analysis,
Southern Illinois University at Edwardsville
Michael Bolton, PhD
Chair, Department of Criminal Justice and Sociology, Marymount University
Dennis Bowman, PhD
Department of Law Enforcement and Justice Administration,
Western Illinois University
Weysan Dun
Special Agent-in-Charge, FBI, Springfield Division
Kenneth Durkin, MD
Department of Law Enforcement and Justice Administration,
Western Illinois University
Thomas Ellsworth, PhD
Chair, Department of Criminal Justice Sciences, Illinois State University
Larry Hoover, PhD
Director, Police Research Center, Sam Houston State University
William McCamey, PhD
Department of Law Enforcement and Justice Administration,
Western Illinois University
John Millner
State Senator of 28th District, Illinois General Assembly
Stephen A. Morreale, DPA
School of Public Policy & Administration/Criminal Justice, Walden University
Gregory Boyce Morrison
Department of Criminal Justice and Criminology, Ball State University
Michael J. Palmiotto
Wichita State University
Frank Morn
Department of Criminal Justice Sciences, Illinois State University
Gene L. Scaramella, PhD
Dean of Criminal Justice Graduate Studies, Kaplan University
Wayne Schmidt
Director, Americans for Effective Law Enforcement
Production Assistant
Linda Brines
The Law Enforcement Executive Forum is published six times per year by the Illinois Law
Enforcement Training and Standards Board Executive Institute located at Western Illinois
University in Macomb, Illinois.
ISSN 1552-9908
No part of this publication may be reproduced without written permission of the publisher.
Disclaimer
Reasonable effort has been made to make the articles herein accurate and consistent.
Please address questions about individual articles to their respective author(s).
Police Administration
Police Consolidation Revisited: Implications for American Law
Enforcement.......................................................................................................... 1
Randy L. LaGrange
The research field of police administration and management reflects the unique
demands and gaps faced by law enforcement organizations, but most of the
concerns concentrate on personnel, resources, and dynamic implications of new
departmental variables, ranging from politics to technology. As demonstrated in
this selection of articles, however, the most consistent police administration issue
today is change itself. Law enforcement administrators need to recognize, identify,
and manage change effectively and be prepared for many unknowns.
Modern police agencies are less conservative and less focused on keeping
traditional policies, models, and protocols. They are more open to innovations,
which enables them to be more effective in their mission and improve ties with
the community.
The articles that have been selected for this issue should meet the special needs of
those interested not only in current research of law enforcement administration,
but also in practical policing applications of academic findings. These articles will
aid law enforcement executives in enhancing the environment of the agency and
responding to various departmental challenges and expectations.
Introduction
A salient feature of the system of justice in the United States is its decentralized
organizational structure. To many historians, local autonomy and local control
of governmental services is the proud living legacy of the founding fathers who
were weary of a strong centralized government. Local governments handle a
multitude of tasks, including water and sewer, waste disposal, schools, building
regulations, zoning issues, fire protection, and so on. To add police protection to
the long list of local government responsibilities is hardly surprising. What may be
surprising, however, at least in retrospect from our present-day vantage point, is
the call for consolidation of local police departments. The President’s Commission
on Law Enforcement and Administration of Justice (1967) singled out American
law enforcement as being in need of fundamental reorganization. The report of
the President’s Commission called for improved law enforcement through the
consolidation of local police departments.
So, where are we today? Forty years after the President’s Commission heralded
the advantages of police consolidation, has American law enforcement followed
the sage advice of the Commission? With few exceptions, police consolidation
has not been embraced by police administrators, community leaders, or even
residents. To put it mildly, the President’s Commission got it wrong, or at least
vastly underestimated the organizational inertia impeding the fundamental
reorganization of local police departments.
This article revisits the issue of police consolidation with several goals in mind.
First, it reviews the issue of police consolidation and places it in a present-day
context. The article also identifies and discusses the driving forces behind the
consolidation issue 40 years ago and why those forces are much less potent today.
Finally, the article highlights alternatives to police consolidation that are of equal
or superior advantage. As we will see, because of dramatic changes in the way
American law enforcement conducts its business, small departments are no longer
organizationally disadvantaged.
Volume Two of the President’s Commission, Task Force Report: The Police, highlighted
the need for significant improvement in law enforcement. The report charged
American policing on the whole as lacking consistent standards and goals. It also
criticized policing as ineffective, wasteful, and incapable of meeting the complex
needs of contemporary society. Of particular concern was the highly fragmented
nature of American law enforcement. As the report stated, “A fundamental
problem confronting law enforcement today is that of fragmented crime repression
efforts resulting from the large number of uncoordinated local governments and
law enforcement agencies” (1967, p. 68). The abundance of small, overlapping,
and disjointed local agencies did not fit the professional model envisioned by the
reformers. The commission flagged Detroit as an example of illogical duplication
of services—85 separate law enforcement agencies within the metropolitan area
of Detroit with nearly half of the agencies employing 20 or fewer officers. That
was 85 separate and distinct everything—headquarters, organizational structures,
budgets, policy and procedure manuals, maintenance staff, property rooms,
holding cells, and so on. Clearly, there must be a more efficient organizational
model to save money and at the same time improve police effectiveness.
At least three factors helped push the consolidation issue. First, evidence then and
now makes a strong case that American law enforcement is highly fragmented and
decentralized. The President’s Commission cited 40,000 as the number of separate
law enforcement agencies in the United States. We know now that this number was
inflated. By today’s more refined and accurate method of counting, the number is
estimated at nearly 18,000—still a very large number. The average department has
around 10 sworn officers, and over 1,000 agencies have just one full-time officer
(Bureau of Justice Statistics, 2002). Clearly, policing American society remains
the primary responsibility of small local departments. Indeed, most Americans
receive their fundamental law enforcement services from small local departments.
This basic fact has not changed over the years.
A third factor pushing the police consolidation issue was the reform movement,
referred to by Nice (1983) as the classic administrative perspective (p. 111). According
to this view, excessive fragmentation hinders efficient government operations
because of a number of problems: the existence of servicing units too small to achieve
economies of scale, inadvertent overlap resulting in unnecessary duplication of
services, and lack of professional personnel and minimal accountability to the
public. The “good government” reformers were thinking broadly about the merger
of entire units of government, with police protection as just one of many essential
government services to be consolidated. The consolidation advocates were mostly
middle and upper-middle class residents who sought to rationalize and improve
government services (Lyons, 1977). Chambers of Commerce, Leagues of Women
Voters, civic-minded organizations, and local newspaper editors often favored
governmental reorganization. Generally speaking, however, the average citizen
was less impressed with the reform agenda and frequently opposed efforts to alter
local governmental arrangements.
Another stated benefit of consolidation also has not been supported: that larger
police departments provide better services than smaller departments. Larger police
departments may be able to provide a wider array of police services because they
have more resources and available personnel, but the quality of police services is not
necessarily better than that provided by small departments. The study by Ostrom,
Parks, and Whitaker (1978) strongly rebukes the “larger is better” argument. These
researchers carefully examined over 1,800 police departments in 80 regions of the
United States to determine whether the quality of police services was associated
with department size. They found no such link. Instead, the researchers discovered
“a much richer network of interrelationships among agencies, and a much higher
use of auxiliary services in general than we would have expected” (p. 3). Other
studies have found that the quality of police services in small to medium-sized
departments is at least equal to, and sometimes better than, the quality of services in
many large departments (Parks, 1976; Rogers & Lipsey, 1974).
As another check on the waning interest in the topic, a search of the Criminal
Justice Abstracts using the key terms “law enforcement consolidation” and “police
consolidation” revealed few entries. In the past 10-year span (1997-2007), only four
published works appeared: one was a doctoral dissertation (Fisk, 2004), and the
other three were journal articles (Finney, 1999; Krimmel, 1997; Shernock, 2004).
Clearly then, the lingering residual interest in police consolidation is nothing like
Independent of consolidation research, there are other reasons that were not
apparent to the President’s Commission that greatly diminish the need for police
consolidation today (e.g., technological advances, multijurisdictional task forces,
and community policing).
Technological Advances
The astounding pace of technological developments over the past 40 years has
changed the face of American law enforcement. Technological advances affect
virtually every aspect of modern-day policing, and emerging technologies have the
potential to fundamentally revolutionize the future of police work (Foster, 2005). At
the forefront of the technological development, and what makes the consolidation
recommendation of the President’s Commission much less meaningful today,
is enhanced information exchange. Small departments in remote areas have the
same access to critical real-time information as the largest departments; therefore,
small departments are no longer at such a severe disadvantage. Moreover, the
shared cost of big-ticket items among several departments provides the benefits of
the latest technology at minimal expense.
This is not to say that American policing is fully “wired.” Police departments
adopt equipment and technological upgrades at differing rates (Foster, 2005). In
addition, many departments use their own information systems and databases,
which are not always compatible with other agencies. This clearly impedes
information exchange. Nonetheless, information availability and exchange is far
Joint operations among local, state, and federal agencies are an innovative
extension of the multijurisdictional task force. Project Exile was one such joint
venture. Started in Richmond, Virginia, in 1997, Project Exile was a no-nonsense
federal crackdown on gun law violators. The program engaged the cooperation and
support of local and state law enforcement agencies. Project Exile prosecuted gun
law violators in U.S. District Court because stiffer prison sentences were available
under existing federal law. The operation included numerous federal agencies (the
U.S. Attorney’s Office; the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms; U.S. Marshals
Service; FBI) plus the local District Attorney, the Richmond Police Department,
and the Virginia State Police. Although highly controversial, Project Exile-type
operations were initiated in a number of urban centers in the late 1990s.
Community Policing
The President’s Commission could not have envisioned the emergence of
community policing. It began with the fear reduction studies in Flint (Michigan),
Newark (New Jersey), Houston (Texas), Newport News (Virginia), and elsewhere
in the 1970s and early 1980s. Researchers discovered a connection between old-
fashioned foot patrol and feelings of public safety. Wilson and Kelling (1982) added
the necessary conceptual foundation to community policing with their “broken
windows” theory. Support for community policing grew exponentially during the
1990s, and so did the financial incentives in the form of grants to local departments
through the 1994 Violent Crime Control and Law Enforcement Act.
Conclusion
Widespread police consolidation as envisioned by the 1967 President’s Crime
Commission never materialized. Too many obstacles stand in the way of police
consolidation. And as it turned out, because of developments in American law
enforcement, large-scale consolidation has not been necessary. Research fails to
demonstrate that bigger police departments serve citizens any better than medium-
sized or small departments. Moreover, developments in American law enforcement
since the President’s Commission (e.g., technological advances, the abundance of
multijurisdictional task forces, and community policing) significantly diminish
the problems associated with our highly fragmented system of policing.
References
Advisory Commission on Intergovernmental Relations. (1971). State-local relations
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Bartollas, C., & Hahn, L. (1999). Policing in America. Boston: Allyn and Bacon.
Bureau of Justice Statistics. (2002). Census of state and local law enforcement agencies,
2000. Washington, DC: U.S. Government Printing Office.
Committee for Economic Development. (1972). Reducing crime and assuring justice.
New York: Committee for Economic Development.
Conser, J., Russell, G., Paynich, R., & Gingerich, T. (2005). Law enforcement in the
United States (2nd ed.). Boston: Jones and Bartlett.
Ferrell, T. H., & Foster, B. (1982). Stopping short of merger: Obstacles to police
consolidation in Lafayette Parish, Louisiana. Journal of Police Science and
Administration, 10(1), 43-46.
Foster, R. (2005). Police technology. Upper Saddle River, NJ: Pearson Prentice Hall.
Gaines, L., & Kappeler, V. (2005). Policing in America (5th ed.). Southington, CT:
Anderson.
Grant, H., & Terry, K. (2005). Law enforcement in the 21st century. Boston: Allyn and
Bacon.
Hirsch, W. Z. (1968). The supply of urban public services. In H. Perloff & L. Hings
(Eds.), Issues in urban economics (pp. 477-526). Baltimore, MD: Johns Hopkins
Press.
LaGrange, R. (1998). Policing American society (2nd ed.). Chicago: Nelson Hall.
Langworthy, R., & Travis III, L. (2003). Policing in America (3rd ed.). Upper Saddle
River, NJ: Prentice Hall.
Manning, P. (1997). Police work: The social organization of policing (2nd ed.). Prospect
Heights, IL: Waveland Press.
McCamey, W., Scaramella, G., & Cox, S. (2003). Contemporary municipal policing.
Boston: Allyn and Bacon.
Ostrom, E., Parks, R. B., & Whitaker, G. P. (1978). Patterns of metropolitan policing.
Cambridge, MA: Ballinger Publishing.
Roberg, R., Novak, K., & Cordner, G. (2005). Police & society (3rd ed.). Los Angeles:
Roxbury.
Rogers, B. D., & Lipsey, C. M. (1974, Fall). Metropolitan reform: Citizen evaluations
of performances in Nashville-Davidson County, Tennessee. Publius, 4, 19-34.
Shernock, S. (2004). The MJTF as a type of coordination compatible with both the
police consolidation and community policing movements. Police Practice and
Research, 5(1), 67-85.
Walker, S., & Katz, C. (2005). The police in America: An introduction (5th ed.). Boston:
McGraw-Hill.
Wilson, J. Q., & Kelling, G. L. (1982, March). Broken windows: The police and
neighborhood safety. Atlantic Monthly, 249, 29-38.
Wilson, O. W., & McLaren, R. C. (1977). Police administration (4th ed.). Boston:
McGraw-Hill.
Community policing, with its focus on problem-solving, is one of the major innovative
reforms in policing. These community policing strategies are designed for, “delivery
of police services through a customer-focused approach, using partnerships to
maximize community resources in a problem-solving format to prevent crime, reduce
the fear of crime, apprehend those involved in criminal activity, and . . . improve a
community’s quality of life” (Ford, Weissbein, & Plamondon, 2003, p. 160).
Many large and small police departments have implemented a range of community
policing models with varying degrees of success.
While determining the impact on crime and violence and the improvement
of police-community relations of a new policing strategy are important, there
are other factors and issues critical to understanding this phenomenon. We
direct our attention to one municipal police department, which, over the span
of multiple police chief administrations, attempted to implement innovative,
problem-solving strategies. We examine the impact of incorporating community
policing and problem-solving strategies into a traditional police department
and report the continuity of the strategy over the span of multiple police chiefs
whose administrative styles vary. The obstacles faced by the Wilmington Police
Department (WPD), at the time of undergoing significant changes, are outlined
as well as how this experience may inform future efforts of police departments in
implementing new strategies.
Using a case study model to explore the impact of employing innovative strategies,
we review the literature on community policing, provide a detailed recent
history of the WPD, and assess its successes at putting into practice innovative
administrative enforcement strategies. Finally, based upon our experience as
researcher partners working with the WPD on a gun violence reduction grant,
we offer recommendations for the implementation of innovative enforcement
strategies in a traditional municipal department.
Literature Review
There are several models of community policing, but the central theme is to “build
meaningful partnerships for improving public safety” and police departments
are called on to “collaborate with practically everyone” (Thacher, 2001, p. 765).
Crime in Wilmington
We reviewed the crime rate in Wilmington between 1990 and 2005 with a focus
on the 1999 to 2003 period when the “pulling levers” strategy hit the streets of
Wilmington. In 1992, the first new chief of police, Chief “W” (the seven chiefs of
police referred to in this article are assigned identifiers in place of their names)
since the early 1970s implemented the concept of community policing. We provide
a comparison of the crime rate in Wilmington from 1990, prior to the introduction
of community policing with the rates following the appearance of this new
strategy. Our focus is on violent crime rates and homicide rates because these
The data shows that while the violent crime rate for North Carolina from 1990 until
2005 tended to decrease at a steady rate from 628.8 per 100,000 to 478 per 100,000,
the violent crime rate for Wilmington fluctuated. First, there was an increase from
1990 (1,201 per 100,000) to 1993 (1,353 per 100,000), and then Wilmington crime
saw a general decrease from 1993 to a low in 1995 (974) and an increase to 1,317
per 100,000 in 1998 to a steady decrease to 860 per 100,000 in 2005. Throughout
this time period, the violent crime rate in Wilmington continued to be significantly
higher, almost twice the state rate. Similarly, the murder rate for North Carolina
from 1990 to 2005 decreased from a peak of 12 per 100,000 in 1993 to 6.9 per 100,000
in 2005. By comparison, the homicide rate in Wilmington fluctuated erratically
over the time period with a peak of 21.9 per 100,000 in 1992 (up from a 9.3 rate per
100,000 in 1990) to a low of 3.5 in 1994 followed by an increase to 19.7 in 1997 and
remained in double digits until 2003 when the rates ranged between 5.6 and 8.9
through 2005. As with the violent crime rates, the Wilmington homicide rates were
often twice the state rate during the 1990-2005 comparison period; however, from
1990 to 2005, the homicide rate in Wilmington decreased from 15.9 per 100,000
to 10.8 per 100,000—roughly equal to the 1995 rate (11.9 per 100,000). The rate
in Wilmington (10.8) still exceeded the 2000 rate for North Carolina (6.9) (North
Carolina Department of Justice, 2005). Property crime rates in Wilmington were
less erratic yet were far greater than the statewide rate.
Gun violence rates in Wilmington during the late 1990s (when the violent and
homicide rates were at their highest) were concentrated in certain areas of the
city. For example, the WPD reported that during a 6-month period in 1999, 66% of
violent crimes (aggravated assaults, robberies, and homicides) occurred in public
housing or within a one-block radius of public housing. They also claimed that
there was a strong link between the violence rate and the local illicit drug market
(personal communication).1
Police reports also revealed that the greatest levels and greatest increases in crime
were concentrated in or near the public housing communities of Taylor Homes
and Creekwood. Taylor Homes has since been demolished. These are also areas
that had some of the greatest illicit drug activity. Moreover, some local justice
officials attribute the increase in violence to a “destabilized” drug market brought
on by enforcement efforts. Periodic “crackdowns” led to an unsettled local drug
market, causing increased competition for sales and conflict over control of the
territory. Essentially, during the 1990s, the violent crime rate in Wilmington bucked
the downward trend experienced both nationally and statewide. This anomaly in
violent crime rates led to the implementation of the “pulling levers” strategy in
Wilmington. We will address this strategy, crime rates, and its impact on the WPD
organizational structure in a later section. In the next section, we review changes
in police administration from the 1970s until 2005.
A 2005 estimate of poverty in the city indicates that 16.8% of the population lived
below the poverty line (see http://census.state.nc.us). The per capita income of
city residents in 2005 was $24,895, which was 13th in the state and higher than the
statewide rate ($22,519). Slightly more than one in three residents (37.5%) are college
graduates, and almost 9 out of 10 (86.6%) residents are high school graduates—
both figures somewhat higher than the statewide numbers. In addition, about one
in five (19.5%) of city residents are African American, down slightly from the 1990
numbers. Also, about one in five residents (21%) are under 18 years of age, about
equal to the 1990 figures (22%). In short, Wilmington is a mid-size city with a
greater than average African American population (U.S. = 12.3%) and a poverty
rate (16.8%) that is greater than the national average (12.6%).
In the 1970s, demands for civil rights centered on a search for identity and
propelled Wilmington into the modern era. Former NAACP leader Benjamin
Muhammed, then known as Ben Chavis, a divinity student from Duke University
and activist, was asked to come to Wilmington and organize protests for inclusion
of black history curriculum in a local high school. Ultimately, bombings and other
violence occurred, and nine black men and one white woman were arrested and
accused of conspiracy in these incidents. The police were involved in these arrests
and prosecutions of what became known as the “Wilmington 10.” The primary
criticism for the handling of these incidents fell upon the District Attorney’s office
and its handling of their prosecution. For example, one of the witnesses, a young
man, was apparently given a bicycle by the DA’s office. All suspects were convicted
and sent to prison. A few years later, President Jimmy Carter’s campaign for
human rights abroad drew criticism because of the domestic imprisonment of the
“Wilmington 10” (see www.lib.unc.edu/ncc/ref/nchistory/feb2005/index.html).
Under pressure, then Governor Hunt reduced their sentences and ultimately, they
were released. Nonetheless, this event overshadowed relations between whites
and blacks and may have contributed to a general suspicion of the criminal justice
system in the black community. This atmosphere has contributed to difficult
relations between police officers and administrators and the black community
over the years.
Chief “W,” the new police chief hired in 1992, was an advocate of “community
policing.” Under his direction, mobile police stations were placed in various
sections of the community, and he pushed for a beat approach to policing in an
effort to establish rapport between the officers and the community. He reorganized
the police department around the community policing concept, formed a Career
Criminal Section that targeted criminals who commit the most crimes, and instituted
a uniformed anti-drug squad called the Problem Tactical Team. He divided the city
into four districts, each with a mobile office and permanently assigned officers to
these Neighborhood Area Base Station trailers. A significant portion of the officers
opposed these changes, and stickers with “Community Wellness” and a red slash
through the middle began to circulate around town (see www.bluelineradio.com/
wadmantimeline.html).
His tenure as police chief, which was marked with controversy, lasted 3 years,
from August 1991 to August 1994. Some claims surfaced that he was involved
in “Satanic” cults. There was no evidence of his involvement in any of these
nefarious activities, but the accusations were used to oppose his approach to
policing. Considered to be too soft on crime, several officers and organizations
in the department opposed him, including the Police Benevolent Association. He
took a number of controversial disciplinary actions, which many, if not most, police
officers opposed. His greatest support came from the black community who saw
his community policing approach—and his personality—as supportive of their
concerns and interests. The Reverend Keith Wiley, president of the local chapter
of the Southern Christian Leadership Conference, commented that Chief “W”
“. . . (built) a coalition between the black community and the police and that
was very helpful” (“No Reason,” 1994). During Chief “W’s” term, violent crime
increased until 1993 and then began to decrease while homicide rates were high in
1992, his first year, and decreased to a low in 1994.
Following his forced resignation in 1994, the deputy chief was promoted to
chief of police. Chief “S” was a long-time veteran of the police department who
moved up through the ranks. A 1970s graduate of the local university, he received
widespread support among the rank-and-file cops, the community leaders, and the
community. His period can best be characterized as a “laissez faire” period—no
new programs/strategies introduced—although he vowed to continue supporting
the “community policing” concept. Nonetheless, some of the mini-stations were
closed down. After 3 years, Chief “S” left in 1997 to head the local Basic Law
Enforcement Training (BLET) program at the local community college. Violent
His replacement, Chief “C,” was hired in April 1997. He had been chief of police in
Virginia for several years prior to taking over WPD. His approach to policing can
best be summarized by the account found on the department’s website at the time:
The “problem-solving” approach under Chief “C” differs from that of the
“community policing” model of Chief “W.” Chief “C’s” was a proactive approach,
which attempted to incorporate “hot spot” and crime mapping analysis and a
COMSTAT approach. He also signed onto a federal task force approach, based on
the “pulling levers” strategy under the coordination of U.S. Attorney’s offices in
Raleigh. As the summary above suggests, his tenure focused more on the “problem-
solving” aspect of policing. Chief “C” was fired by the city manager after refusing
to resign in September 2003, following the controversial firing and reassignment
of some police officers in response to a complaint filed by a controversial city
council member, whose self-published book contained scathing criticism of the
Wilmington police (Fennell, 2003). During his tenure, the violent crime rate and
homicide rate began a downward trend through 2005.
This action and the ripple effect in the department and the local community led to
the city requesting an evaluation by the Police Executive Research Forum (PERF).
They completed their report in April 2004 and included several recommendations
concerning the implementation of the community policing model and a more
proactive approach. The deputy chief, Chief “T,” was appointed interim chief
of police in September 2003, and he served in this capacity until February 2004
when he left to take a position as chief of police at a department in the western
part of the state. Just prior to his departure in February 2004, a confidential memo
he had written was released to the media. This memo provided an extremely
candid and critical view of the department and its management staff. He wrote
that “I would describe the PD current status as coming apart at the seams . . .
(with) special interest groups . . . (in which) personal resentment pervades the
supervisory ranks. . . .” Among other actions, he recommends sensitivity training
for the department commenting that “our community is a powder keg waiting for
the right moment” (Fennell, 2004; also see www.bluelineradio.com/page1.html).
After Chief “T” left, another interim police chief, Chief “H,” was appointed from
within the ranks of the department. Chief “H” served, without pushing for any
major departmental changes, until August 2004 when the current police chief,
Chief “E,” was hired. Violent crime rates and homicide rates in Wilmington have
continued their downward trend to the lowest rates in years.
From 1991 to 2005, the WPD had been headed by four “permanent” police chiefs
and three interim chiefs for a total of seven chiefs over the 14-year period or an
The more traditional, professional approaches, found earlier in the WPD, tended
to be reactive in their response to crime. Even the more “proactive” responses
have proven to have limited effectiveness (Sherman, 1997; Walker, 2001). For
example, crackdowns may only temporarily deter crime, which is offset by decay
and displacement (Mazerolle, Ready, Terrill, & Waring, 2000; Sherman, 1990). The
“announcement effect” of such efforts soon disappear, and the rate of criminal
behavior soon returns to “normal” (Walker, 2001). Recent nontraditional and
innovative approaches follow the recommendations of Wilson and Kelling’s
(1982) broken windows theory and Goldstein’s (1990) problem-solving approach,
addressing crime prevention from the community perspective. We will next
Operation Ceasefire
Innovative policing strategies have often been embraced when found to be
successful elsewhere. Such is the case with Boston’s Operation Ceasefire. There
were two main components to Operation Ceasefire: (1) direct and intense law-
enforcement response directed toward the worst violent offenders and (2) general
deterrent effect on chronic offenders to stop their involvement in violent behavior
by providing them with alternatives to the violent lifestyle. The latter strategy
came to be known as the “pulling levers” strategy that clearly conveyed that every
“lever” legally available would be used to prosecute offenders if they continued
to engage in violent behavior (Kennedy, 1997). Violent offenders had failed to be
deterred by the traditional method of simply increasing the severity of sanctions,
when the certainty of the sanctions was, in fact, uncertain. Moreover, the state does
have tremendous sanctioning power that it can bring to bear on certain offenders
and certain areas, which could be effective if properly marshaled. Consequently,
Operation Ceasefire incorporated two major components: (1) “pulling levers”
in which they would respond to serious gang violence by “pulling every lever”
available on the gangs in question thus clearly communicating the consequences
of continued violence to the gangs and (2) “call-ins” in which gang members who
wanted to change their violent lifestyle were offered any assistance they might
need such as protection, drug treatment, and social services.
Research by David Kennedy (1997) revealed that many of the youth gang members
wanted to cease their participation in violent gangs but did not have an “out”—a
way to safely “escape” this lifestyle. Studies of the Operation Ceasefire program in
Boston show that it apparently had an impact on the rate of youth homicide, gun
use (less frequently used in crimes) and gun assaults (Braga et al., 1999).
Project Exile
Richmond, Virginia, had been experiencing rising crime rates, especially violent
crime for years. In the late 1990s, Richmond implemented two major programs:
(1) Blitz to Bloom and (2) Project Exile. Blitz to Bloom incorporated broken
windows theory with the crackdown strategy in an effort to reduce crime in
Richmond. The goal of the “blitz” phase was to reduce drug dealing and related
crime in the targeted area through a variety of proactive patrol activities, while
“bloom” referred to efforts at social intervention in these “blitzed” neighborhoods.
The Project Exile initiative concentrated on reducing gun violence by prosecuting
gun offenses in the federal system in which the sanctions are more severe, bond is
The task force, referred to as the Wilmington Task Force to Cease Firearm Violence
was formed in spring 2000 and continued in active operation until 2003. In
Wilmington, the community call-ins had begun in early 2001. Although viewed
as a proactive measure to address the violent crime problem, the calls-ins also had
troubles.2 A key feature of this approach is the clear communication (as in Operation
Ceasefire) that the illegal possession or use of a gun will not be tolerated. A
coalition of civic and business leaders worked with the police in posting messages
on television, billboards, and elsewhere that warned of the consequences of the
illegal use of guns. Results in early 2001 shows 196 persons were sentenced to an
average of 55 months of imprisonment.
The task force brought increased cooperation among all of the agencies involved
with the local police and ATF compiling a list of 14 violent offenders based
upon their rap sheets for the initial call-in. The list of offenders produced by
law enforcement brought complaints from their respective probation agents.
One offender was identified as one of Wilmington’s worst, yet he had a single
violent arrest. His probation officer reported that he was driven to the shooting
by hallucinations he suffered through a medication/alcohol combination and in
a paranoid shooting episode shot (but did not injure) a person and destroyed a
This conflict of values was most salient during the Chief “W” era in which mobile
substations and foot patrols were instituted by the department. Thacher’s (2001)
comments are relevant to WPD when he notes, “. . . these abstract affinities
foundered when police lacked enthusiasm for the concrete concerns communities
brought to them” (p. 777). To the police, this is not real police work. Until the street
cop accepts this notion, community policing and problem-solving strategies will
struggle to be successful. Many departments have created separate and special
community policing units, which insulate the officers from the pressures to practice
traditional policing. These units provide “protected organizational spaces,” which
allow the department to respond to community demands (Thacher, 2001, p. 781).
Selnick (1957), in his book on leadership in organizations, writes such “precarious
values” need a degree of autonomy within the organization to allow them to take
root. While this approach is not without problems, such as tensions between the
neighborhood unit(s) and the patrol units, it does allow a police department to
establish positive relationships with the community.
There is some evidence that the core values of community policing and problem-
solving strategies did not take hold among the police officers at WPD. For example, the
PERF report found that, during meetings with community residents, many commented
that the, “officers were ‘out of touch’ with young people . . . (and) . . . some were
playing it loose on the streets,” conducting pat-downs and searches without adequate
The PERF report notes that, while the department’s relationship with the community
is generally good, it could be better. The report also notes that while the police
are “responsive and reactive to calls, (they) do not appear to sustain a high level
of positive engagement within all their communities. A recommendation made
by PERF is that community policing by the department needs to be less reactive
and more proactive and ‘results oriented’” (p. 18). In their discussion of WPD’s
community policing division, PERF comments that this unit is more reactive
in nature than proactive. Furthermore, they note, “Though the department has
established a number of programs intended to engage the community, there are
no defined programs, strategies, or personal expectations, which incorporate the
community policing model in day to day operations” (PERF, 2004, p. 81). Among
the officers, community policing is considered a less than desirable assignment.
They also found that officers often complained that the “zero tolerance” policy
limited their discretion and was a waste of time to have to deal with nuisance
violations.
A survey of police personnel in spring 2006 as part of the WPD 2010 Strategic Plan
is instructive. Survey results point to skepticism among many police officers about
community policing and problem-solving approaches. While only 35% agree that
problem-oriented/community policing is the “most effective way of policing
the City of Wilmington as a whole,” it was chosen by a greater percentage than
traditional (call-response) and about equal to the “geographical/precinct model”
(36%). Also, about 39% chose “media/government TV” as the most effective
way to communicate with the public, more popular than “officer contact during
neighborhood patrols” (28%) and “community meetings” (15%).
Conclusion
Our contention is that the tension and stress brought by attempts to implement
a more “pure” community policing by Chief “W” were resolved by a movement
toward innovative yet more enforcement-based and crime fighting approaches
of the Operation Ceasefire and the recent MUD models and, in the latter years,
the compartmentalization of the COP unit. While COP and POP continued to be
part of the police vocabulary, our observation is that it was more talk than walk
or a “vocabulary of adjustment” (Cressey, 1958) in which the label, “community
policing” is used to identify any change in police strategy. Nonetheless, the internal
strife within the department, at least from 1992 until 2004, was not resolved by
a change in strategies or a movement from the original COP approach. Instead,
internal problems and problems with the community continued through the
successive police regimes until 2004. These problems hindered the ability to fully
and adequately implement strategies that may have made WPD a more effective
department. As a result, we see that the violent crime rates and the homicide rates
fluctuated erratically and did not reflect the more stable patterns found statewide
and nationally.3 While local and environmental conditions played a part, the
instability and internal problems of the organizational structure of the agency
proved problematic.
It will take the commitment of political leaders, police managers, and prosecutors
coupled with a strong concern from community leaders to adequately address
these long lived antagonisms. The key ways to stop it would be more sophisticated
data collection and analysis of arrests. This might involve moving towards goal-
orientated management processes that help to better track officers’ performance
and ensure management accountability. In addition, prosecutors must put a much
stricter standard on the “reasonable suspicion” rule that is often discarded in
“problem solving” efforts, such as the task force efforts discussed in this article.
Police management should focus on examples of ethical “community policing.” If
the community perceives police strategies to be misdirected, ultimately the police
are not going to contribute effectively to solving their community’s problems.
One final point: it is obvious from our review that a key obstacle to the successful
implementation of problem-solving strategies in WPD was resistance on the part of
a significant segment of the rank-and-file officers. Police management was unable
or unwilling to adequately address the cultural resistance to these innovative
strategies. One of the inherent strengths of the problem-solving approach is the
move from the “top-down” management model to a more participatory model.
Our observation is that from 1991 to 2005, management attempted to introduce
innovative strategies without changing the management structure. Rank-and-file
officers resisted because they were asked to change their essential philosophy and
approach to policing within the context of a traditional command structure. In
short, these innovations lacked an “umbrella of legitimacy” (Thacher, 2001).
Braga, A. A., Kennedy, D. M., Waring, E. J., & Piehl, A. M. (2001). Problem-oriented
policing: An evaluation of Boston’s Operation Ceasefire. Journal of Research in
Crime and Delinquency, 38(3), 195-225.
Braga, A. A., Weisburd, D., Waring, E. J., Mazerolle, L. G., Spelman, W.,
& Gajewski, F. (1999). Problem oriented policing in violent crime places:
A randomized controlled experiment. Criminology, 37(3), 541-580.
Cressey, D. (1958). The nature and effectiveness of correctional techniques. Law and
Contemporary Problems, 23(4), 754-771.
Eck, J. E., & Spelman, W. (1987). Problem solving: Problem-oriented policing in Newport
News. Washington, DC: PERF.
Fennell, B. (2003, September 9). Chief cease fired: City manager cites differing
philosophies. Wilmington Star-News, p. A1.
Fennell, B. (2004, March 1). Memo from interim police chief raises questions: City
council weighs in on problems in WPD. Wilmington Star-News, p. A1.
Maybe Ray Charles should be in charge! Editorial. (1999, December 23). The
Wilmington Journal, p. A4.
Mazerolle, L., Ready, J., Terrill, W., & Waring, E. (2000). Problem-oriented policing
in public housing: The Jersey City evaluation. Justice Quarterly, 17(1), 129-158.
No reason given; Wadman resigns as chief of police; Will receive $26,000 for
consulting deal. (1994, July 12). Wilmington Star-News, p. B1.
Raphael, S., & Ludwig, J. (2003). Prison sentence enhancements: The case of Project
Exile. In J. Ludwig & P. J. Cook (Eds.), Evaluating gun policy: Effects on crime and
violence (pp. 251-286). Washington, DC: Brookings Institute Press.
Rosenfeld, R., Fornango, R., & Baumer, E. (2005). Did Ceasefire, COMSTAT, and
Exile reduce homicide? Criminology and Public Policy, 4(3), 419-450.
Sherman, L. W. (1997). Preventing crime: What works, what doesn’t, what’s promising.
Washington, DC: U.S. Government Printing Office.
Skogan, W. G., & Hartnett, S. M. (1987). Community policing, Chicago style. New York:
Oxford University Press.
Skolnick, J., & Caplovitz, A. (2001). Guns, drugs, and profiling: Ways to target guns
and minimize racial profiling. Arizona Law Review, 43(2), 413-437.
Smith, D. (1986). The neighborhood context of police behavior. Crime and Justice:
A Review of Research (Communities and Crime), 8, 313-341.
Thatch, J. (1999, December 2). Sheriff McQueen is excluded from meeting. The
Wilmington Journal, p. A1.
Walker, S. (2001). Sense and nonsense about crime and drugs: A policy guide (5th ed.).
Belmont, CA: Wadsworth.
White, H. R., & Gorman, D. M. (2000, July). Dynamics of the drug-crime relationship.
The nature of crime: Continuity and change. Criminal Justice 2000. Washington, DC:
U.S. Department of Justice.
Wilmington Police Department Strategic Plan 2010. (2006, Spring). Wilmington, NC:
WPD.
Wilson, J. Q., & Kelling, G. L. (1982). Broken windows: The police and neighborhood
safety. Atlantic Monthly, 249(3), 29-38.
Cecil L. Willis is assistant vice chancellor for Academic Affairs and professor
of criminal justice at the University of North Carolina–Wilmington. He
earned his BS, MA, and PhD degrees from East Tennessee State University,
East Carolina University, and Virginia Tech University, respectively. His areas
of concentration are criminal justice theory, sociology of law, and criminology.
His professional experience includes 30 years as a faculty member, department
chair, and administrator. He has been principal or co-principal investigator
on several community-based research projects funded by local, state, and
federal agencies and organizations. He has presented papers throughout the
country and abroad and published more than 25 articles, book reviews, and
essays in professional publications.
Force Continuums
Police departments across the country have relied on various forms of force
continuums for several decades (Terrill, 2001). A standard force continuum
ordinally ranks varying levels of police force and citizen resistance in terms of
severity, with the explicit purpose of offering officers guidance on how to respond
when faced with noncompliant or aggressive citizens. Thus, continuum policies
attempt to more readily clarify what may be considered “objectively reasonable”
force as outlined by the United States Supreme Court in Graham v. Connor (1989).
One of the earliest continuums, the linear design, is modeled in the form of a
ladder or hierarchical steps. According to McEwen (1997), this type of “continuum
approach is to rely first on the officer’s presence to quell a situation, and if that
fails, to move to increasingly severe types of force” (p. 49). Another type of a
continuum structure is often referred to as a modified linear design in which subject
resistance is placed into one of several levels and force options for escalation (and
de-escalation) are presented within each level (see Connor, 1991). Other, more
nonlinear designs are laid out in matrix form or depicted by a wheel (see Hoffman,
Lawrence, & Brown, 2004). In the matrix approach, various forms of suspect
resistance are presented vertically along rows while various police responses are
offered on a horizontal axis. The wheel design is sometimes presented by a series
of concentric circles with the situation as the core (e.g., see the Ontario Model),
followed by an intermediate circle of suspect resistance behaviors, followed by an
outer circle displaying varying appropriate forms of police force given the type of
citizen resistance.
Regardless of what continuum approach a particular agency chooses to use (if any),
the placement of different forms of force within the continuum structure can vary.
For example, one department may place an Electro-Muscular Disruption (EMD)
weapon, such as the Taser, low on the continuum (e.g., right after verbal direction),
while another agency may place it high on the continuum scale (e.g., just before
deadly force). Of course, the implication is that some agencies view EMD use as
more of a “first resort,” while others encourage EMD use as a “last resort” before
turning to deadly force. Complicating matters further, some departments rely on
less specific types of continuum policies whereby force and resistance are referred
to only in vague terms and not categorized into specific levels, while others offer
very detailed policies that lay out many levels of both force and resistance.
In sum, force continuums are multidimensional in design and can vary in terms of
model type, as well as where various force tactics are placed within the continuum
framework. The exact nature of these diverse continuum policies, the merits of
An Empirical Examination
Given the wide variation in force continuum policies, in both form (i.e., design)
and placement (i.e., tactics), combined with a lack of knowledge concerning
effectiveness, we are currently engaged in a study (Assessing Police Use of Force
Policy and Outcomes, funded by the National Institute of Justice) to investigate
the relationship between varying “types” of policies and a multitude of
outcome measures, including the extent to which different policies guide officer
decisionmaking; enhance the control of suspects; and/or affect injuries, shootings,
citizen complaints, and lawsuits. The goal is to determine, from an empirical
perspective, whether certain types of policies offer more beneficial outcomes to
police practitioners. It is our belief that studies examining any particular tactic
* Some agencies have removed any reference of a force continuum from their policy completely (Terrill &
Paoline, 2006). In some cases, however, departments that have done so still employ a force continuum
approach from a training perspective (i.e., the continuum is part of training officers but not part of the
formal policy itself).
The current phase of the study involves eight mid-size police agencies representing
each region throughout the country. Over the course of the next year, researchers
will spend nearly one month on-site at each agency gathering data, which
will consist of two primary components: (1) conducting an officer survey and
(2) analyzing official agency records.
The officer survey will offer data on how different policies are understood and
viewed by front line personnel. Hence, one of the goals is to assess the extent
to which officers believe their policy offers guidance when faced with potential
use-of-force encounters. Part of this process involves measuring officer knowledge
and awareness (or lack thereof) of their respective force policy. The aim is to tease
out the potential disconnection between organizational policy and actual policy
awareness, implementation, and usefulness. A second goal of the officer survey is
to examine the extent to which officers believe their policy actually permits them
to effectively establish or maintain control of suspects. For instance, there is no
previous research that has identified whether a linear continuum design offers
more control than a nonlinear or wheel-type design or that continuum approaches
are more effective at controlling suspects than noncontinuum approaches. In
addition, no evidence exists as to how and where various forms of less-lethal
technologies fit into varying types of policies, as well as the resulting effect on
control. Furthermore, it is possible that an officer may know his or her policy and
believe the policy offers guidance with respect to “what to do and when to do it.”
It is also conceivable, however, that while officers may feel certain policies are clear
and offer guidance, the policies are viewed as ineffective in terms of controlling
suspects.
In addition to the officer survey, researchers will collect and analyze a series of
agency records (e.g., use-of-force report data, citizen complaint data, arrest and calls
for service data, training data, civil litigation data) to determine whether certain
types of continuum policies, in both form (i.e., design) and placement (i.e., location
of tactics within the varying forms), reduce the number and extent of officer and
citizen injuries, police shootings, citizen complaints, and lawsuits. The research
team will also attempt to compare and contrast departments employing a force
continuum approach within their policy to departments that do not incorporate a
continuum design. In the end, the overarching purpose is to determine not only
whether certain types of policies (continuum-based or otherwise) lend themselves
more readily to issues of guidance and control, but also to discern the interplay
between issues of guidance and control while considering injuries, shootings,
complaints, and civil litigation.
Results from the study will permit a unique opportunity to compare the
benefits and drawbacks of the varying types of policy approaches being utilized
by a large number of police agencies throughout the country. For example,
departments employing a linear type of continuum policy may be compared with
departments using a matrix design. Similarly, agencies with no continuum policy
In conclusion, the Assessing Police Use of Force Policy and Outcomes study will offer
valuable insight on how varying types of policies actually influence the effects of
police use of force. Researchers have investigated how often the police resort to
nonlethal force (Adams, 1995), variation in the types of force officers use (Klinger,
1995), views toward force (Muir, 1977), determinants of force (Terrill & Mastrofski,
2002; Worden, 1995), and the number of officers and citizens involved in force
incidents (Langan, Greenfield, Smith, Durose, & Levin, 2001). It is now time to
examine the effect of continuum policy approaches on resulting outcomes. The
study’s findings will provide practitioners with a guide for policy making and
development. Police administrators will have something to which to refer when
making a decision to employ a force continuum approach (or not) within their
agency’s use-of-force policy. More specifically, they will have empirical policy data
associated with lower rates of injuries or citizen complaints. Moreover, they will
be able to discern which policy types offer officers greater degrees of control and
even those policies that might offer an enhanced level of control but lead to more
complaints and lawsuits. In sum, results from the study will permit informed
policy decisionmaking based on an independent empirical assessment, rather
than speculation and anecdotal accounts.
References
Adams, K. (1995). Measuring the prevalence of police abuse of force. In W. A.
Geller & H. Toch (Eds.), And justice for all: Understanding and controlling police
abuse of force (pp. 61-97). Washington, DC: Police Executive Research Forum.
Aveni, T. J. (2003). Force continuum conundrum. Law and Order, 51(12), 74-77.
Connor, G. (1991). Use of force continuum: Phase II. Law and Order, 39(3), 30-32.
Hoffman, R., Lawrence, C., & Brown, G. (2004). Canada’s national use-of-force
framework for police officers. The Police Chief, 71(10), 125-141.
Langan, P. A., Greenfeld, L. A., Smith, S. K., Durose, M. R., & Levin, D. J. (2001).
Contacts between the police and the public: Findings from the 1999 national survey.
Washington, DC: Bureau of Justice Statistics.
Rogers, D. (2001). Use of force: Agencies need to have a continuum and officers
need to be able to articulate it. Law Enforcement Technology, 28(3), 82-86.
Terrill, W. (2001). Police coercion: Application of the force continuum. New York: LFB
Scholarly Publishing.
Terrill, W., & Mastrofski, S. D. (2002). Situational and officer based determinants of
police coercion. Justice Quarterly, 19, 215-248.
Terrill, W., & Paoline, E. A. (2006, November). Police use of force policy types:
Results from a national agency survey. Paper presented at the American Society of
Criminology, Los Angeles, CA.
Worden, R. E. (1995). The “causes” of police brutality: Theory and evidence on police
use of force. In W. A. Geller & H. Toch (Eds.), And Justice for All: Understanding
and Controlling Police Abuse of Force (pp. 31-60). Washington, DC: Police Executive
Research Forum.
I tell recruits, each precinct is its own little small town. You have certain
problems you handle in each precinct daily. They are all operated differently.
They are all little police departments inside one big department. The captain
is basically chief of this precinct.
– Officer assigned to Northeast Precinct
Introduction
Policing scholars have long held that environmental factors affect the prioritization
of police activities (Crank, 1990, 2003; Crank & Langworthy, 1992; Davenport,
1999; Maguire, 2003; Wilson, 1968). Policing scholars, consequently, have turned
their attention to explaining the varying roles of external factors and the degree to
which these factors affect police behavior (Davenport, 1999). According to Crank
(2003), many examinations have focused on the effects of environmental factors on
organizations as a whole (Davenport, 1999; Katz, 2001; Zhao, Lovrich, & Robinson,
2001) or interorganizational fields (Zhao et al., 2001). Few have examined the role
of the precinct as a suborganizational level of analysis (Kane, 2003; Klinger, 1997).
Legal Level
Precinct Level
Based on prior research that patrol practices vary at the precinct level of analysis,
this study investigates whether supervisory styles vary between precincts as
well. As Reuss-Ianni and Ianni (1983) emphasize, “Understanding how the police
precinct operates as a working social/administrative/operations unit is critical
to understanding the forces affecting the management and practice of police
work” (p. 256). This study investigates whether officers perceive that supervisory
styles vary within one police organization at the precinct level of analysis. More
specifically, this study investigates the following two hypotheses: (1) police patrol
officers will perceive that supervisory styles vary between the precincts and (2)
the variation in supervisory styles will be attributed to factors unique to each
precinct.
Methodology
Research Site
Midwestern Municipality (a pseudonym) is in the heart of the Midwestern
United States. According to the 2000 Census, the city population in 2002 was
approximately 400,000 persons. The racial breakdown of the city is predominantly
white (78.4%), with African Americans (13.3%) and Hispanics (6.1%) comprising
the two largest minority groups.1 The racial composition of sworn officers in the
Midwestern Municipality Police Department (MMPD) is 82% white, 11% African
American, 5% Hispanic, and 2% “other.”
Each precinct has a separate precinct captain. In addition to the precinct captain,
each shift in each precinct has a lieutenant, for a total of three lieutenants for each
precinct. Each crew, additionally, is assigned its own sergeant, resulting in nine
sergeants assigned to each precinct. Each sergeant is assigned a crew of patrol
officers, which varies by precinct and shift. Official records obtained from MMPD
reveal that the largest crews are assigned to the afternoon shifts in the NE Precinct
while the smallest crews are assigned to the morning shifts in the SW Precinct.
Research Design
The research design is a multi-method ethnographic case study including
observational fieldwork, both structured and unstructured interviews, and official
documents obtained from MMPD. During field observation, I accompanied patrol
officers, systematically recording the following data: the nature of police-citizen
interaction (officer-initiated or citizen-initiated); the reason for the interaction; the
start time of interaction; the response time (time elapsed between time of call and
actual arrival); the number of officers involved; the disposition of interaction; and
the end time of the interaction. All observational notes were recorded with pen and
paper. Field observations spanned a 6-month time period, from July 2003 through
November 2003. Participation by the patrol officers was voluntary. During roll
calls, the sergeant would request volunteers who were willing to participate in
the research. Most patrol officers were aware of the study, as the observer met
with officers during roll calls at each shift in each precinct prior to the start of data
collection. The observation period totaled 434 hours of participant observation.
Sample
Field observation was conducted with 76 patrol officers. Seventy-two structured
interviews were completed during field observation (18 completed questionnaires
in each of the four precincts).4 Seventy-three percent of the participating officers
were male while 27% were female. The overall composition of sworn officers in
MMPD is 80% male and 20% female. Eighty-seven percent of the sample identified
themselves as white, while 6% identified themselves as African American, 4% as
Hispanic, and 3% as other. These figures compare to the departmental racial/ethnic
population of sworn officers: 82% white, 11% African American, 5% Hispanic, and
2% as another racial/ethnic identity. The mean age of the participating officers is
34 (range of 23-53; standard deviation of 7). Officers participating in this study
ranged in their tenure at MMPD from one to 22 years, with a mean experience
level of 7.5 years (standard deviation of 6). Eighty-three percent of participating
officers have worked in other precincts: 61 officers have worked in SW, 47 in NW,
46 in SE, and 56 in NE Precincts. All participating officers were exposed to all
precincts during field training.
Precinct Descriptions
Southwest Precinct
The SW Precinct is one of the two largest (geographically) precincts with the
fewest number of patrol officers assigned. It is approximately three times the
geographic size of the smallest precinct. The precinct is a mix of residential and
business, including most of the city’s apartment complexes, three hospitals, the
local university, and the largest shopping mall in the city. The cluster of apartment
complexes within this precinct represents the densest part of the city. According to
MMPD statistical reports, the precinct has the lowest crime level with most calls for
traffic accidents, traffic hazard issues, and intrusion alarms. The residents of this
Northwest Precinct
The NW Precinct is the second largest precinct (geographically) with the second
fewest numbers of officers assigned (second to SW). The precinct is almost
three times the geographic size of the smallest precinct. The precinct is a mix of
residential and business, including two shopping malls, apartment complexes,
and one hospital. In addition, the precinct has an apartment complex that is part
of the scattered-site subsidized housing project. According to MMPD statistical
reports, the precinct has the second lowest crime level; like SW, most calls are for
traffic accidents, intrusion alarms, and civil disturbances. The demographics of
the precinct are mixed. The precinct is composed of two areas: (1) the 10-area and
(2) the 20-area. The 10-area is mostly middle- to upper-income white individuals
while the 20-area is composed of a blend of middle-income white individuals
lower-income African Americans, and impoverished Sudanese immigrants. Data
from unstructured interviews with command staff indicates that many of the
officers assigned to the precinct range from mid-level experienced officers (5 to 7
years of service) to newer officers. The sergeants vary from mid-level experienced
to newly appointed sergeants. According to the NW Precinct commander, the
policing style within the precinct is primarily reactive with a minor emphasis on
proactive policing. Patrol responsibilities within the precinct include answering
calls for service.
Northeast Precinct
The NE Precinct is one of the two smallest precincts (geographically) and has
the highest number of officers assigned. The precinct is primarily residential.
According to MMPD statistical reports, the NE Precinct has the highest crime level
within the city. On the first ride-along in the precinct, for example, there were
five armed disturbance calls within the first 15 minutes. It is also known among
the patrol officers as the most dangerous precinct, with respect to police officer
safety; the last four police officers killed in the line of duty were assigned to the NE
Precinct. The precinct is predominately composed of African American residents
with relatively few white persons residing within the precinct. The NE Precinct is
also the most economically deprived in the city. Additionally, according to officers
and newspaper accounts, there is a long history of racial conflict between residents
of the precinct and the police department. Data from unstructured interviews
with command staff indicates that the officers assigned to the precinct are a mix
of mid-level experienced officers (5 to 7 years of service) and newer officers. The
sergeants vary from mid-level experienced sergeants to newly promoted sergeants.
According to the NE Precinct commander, the policing style is both reactive and
proactive, with a heavy emphasis on proactive policing. The patrol responsibilities
Southeast Precinct
The SE Precinct is the second smallest precinct geographically and has the
second highest number of officers assigned (second to NE). The precinct is a mix
of residential and business, including the downtown area, which is the newly
renovated economic hub of the city. According to MMPD statistical reports, the
precinct has the second highest crime level with most calls for service for civil
and domestic disturbances, as well as gang- and drug-related activities. The
demographics of the precinct are mixed. The precinct is comprised of two distinct
areas: (1) the 50-area and (2) the 60-area. The 50-area is a mix of middle- to upper-
income white residents who live within the downtown area and lower-income
white and Hispanic residents. The 60-area is comprised primarily of lower-
income Hispanic residents. Data from unstructured interviews with command
staff indicates that the officers assigned to the precinct range from mid-level
experienced (5 to 7 years of service) officers to newer officers. The SE sergeants
vary from mid-level experienced to newly appointed sergeants. According to the
precinct commander, the policing style within the precinct is both reactive and
proactive, with a heavy emphasis on proactive policing in the 50-area. Patrol
responsibilities within the precinct include answering calls for service and
proactive law enforcement activities.
Findings
To test the hypothesis that patrol officers perceive that supervisory styles vary
by precinct, officers were asked during interviews whether supervisory styles
differed between the precincts. If officers answered affirmatively, they were asked
to explain their responses. When explaining their responses, officers were asked
to rely on their experiences in each precinct. The officers’ responses were analyzed
and grouped into two categories: (1) factors at the individual level of analysis and
(2) factors at the situational and neighborhood levels of analysis. Many officers’
responses included references to more than one factor. The analysis demonstrates
that 92% of participating officers (66 out of 72) do believe that supervisory styles
vary at the precinct level of analysis.
Other officers reported that the supervisor’s level of experience, or time on the
job, was an important factor in explaining precinct-level variation in supervisory
styles. Most officers reported that newer officers bid to work in the high-crime
precincts (NE and SE) and older officers, who have “done their time” in the high
crime precincts, bid to work in the low-crime precincts. The end result is that newer
and less experienced sergeants and lieutenants are concentrated in the high-crime
precincts during afternoon/evening shifts (C-shift) and overnight shifts (A-shift).
The more experienced sergeants and lieutenants are found in the lower crime
precincts and typically work during the day (B-shift). Official agency documents
obtained from MMPD validate these findings.
Several officers assigned to SW (the lowest crime precinct) discussed the differences
in supervisory styles based on level of experience. One officer (assigned to SW)
stated that such differences could be attributed to “the age and experience of the
supervisor. Younger supervisors are more hands on.” Another officer stated that
“newer sergeants usually work those areas [NE and SE Precinct areas] so they are
still in the officer role where they like to be on the street. In NE and SE, you still
hear command officers making traffic stops.” Another officer reiterated this point
when he/she said, “the two sergeants who are in SW are close to retirement and
don’t want to do anything. Sergeants in NE are out making traffic stops and are
more involved.” Finally, an officer currently working in SW detailed . . .
The SW sergeants have time on. They have been with [MMPD] for a lot
of years. In SE, NE, and NW [20-area NW], the sergeants tend to be less
experienced as sergeants out here. Out here, all sergeants have been on for a
number of years. SW sergeants don’t micromanage as much. They let officers
do their jobs. There is less intensive supervision in SW.
Officers assigned to NW (the second lowest crime precinct) also reported that
supervision varied according to precinct assignment and that variation was due
to level of experience. One NW officer said, “Time on at rank. In SW, the style is
less pessimistic, more materialistic. Rank is more important to senior officers than
younger officers. In NE, the sergeants are newer, just promoted, just came from
the street and understand the necessity of being more decisive and discretionary.”
Another officer conveyed . . .
SW has higher seniority sergeants and command. They are a lot more laid-
back and they [sergeants] didn’t want you to call a lot [did not want the
officers to call them with questions]. On NW C-shift [afternoon/evening
shift], you get younger sergeants and command staff, and they are more
hands on and by the book.
An officer, working in NW, also reported that there are differences between the
western and eastern precincts: “In eastern precincts, you are allowed a bit more
leeway out there. They don’t micromanage as much. NW [20-side] gets newer
sergeants, and they tend to micromanage more.” Finally, an officer said, “In NE,
Officers in the eastern precincts also remarked that the level of experience of the
command staff affects supervision. An officer assigned to SE said that “experience
on the job has a lot to do with it. A new, young supervisor is unsure how to handle
things. Then they go overboard and are strictly by the book.” An officer assigned
to NE reported, that “In NE, you get the sergeants who don’t want to be here to
those that still want to work . . . the sergeants are stuck in NE because they are
the lowest rung on bidding. The three sergeants with the most seniority work SW
C-shift.”
For most officers, the major distinctions in the nature of crime and deviance and
calls for service are between the western (low-crime; NW and SW) and eastern
(high-crime; NE and SE) precincts. In the eastern precincts, officers explained,
the crime is more serious, the pace is quicker, and sergeants are more actively
involved in calls for service. In the eastern precincts, there is greater demand and
higher expectations of supervisors. In contrast, sergeants working in the western
precincts, according to participating officers, are more relaxed and laid-back due
to the infrequency of serious crime and calls for service.
One officer assigned to SW explained the impact that the nature of the calls for
service has on supervisory styles: “Supervisors are laid-back where there are fewer
calls. They are more relaxed in SW. They have a bigger call load and more serious
calls in the east.” Another officer from SW reiterated, “Some areas of town have
a higher crime rate so responses will be different.” An officer assigned to the SE
Precinct also reported on the relevance of the nature of calls for service: “Sergeants
are required to respond to certain calls, and more of those calls are in NE.” Finally,
an officer in NW commented, “Sergeants will be out more in the eastern sector.
More interactive with [his/her] crew. The entire east and at night. More stuff goes
on at night. The bad guys are night workers.”
Officers in the NE Precinct were stronger in their opinions about how the nature
of crime and deviance and calls for service impact supervisory styles. An officer
in NE stated, “A lot of supervisors out west are laid-back; it’s a more laid-back
environment out west.” Another officer assigned to NE concluded, “There is more
crime in SE and NE and so they [supervisors] are more strict on officer safety here.
In SE and NE, officers have to have riot helmets. This is not the case in NW and
SW.”
Eleven officers further reported that the culture of the clientele, citizen expectations,
and local political influence produce precinct-level variation in supervisory
styles. Again, the field observation notes cross-reference these findings from the
structured interviews. In MMPD, there is a strong interaction between citizen
demand, the nature of the crime and deviance in the precinct, and police patrol
practices. In the eastern precincts, for example, the level of crime and deviance
is not only more visible and violent, but the crime levels are higher than in the
western precincts. Citizens residing in the eastern precincts witness higher levels
of more serious crime and, as a result, are generally more permissive of aggressive
police patrol practices (e.g., foot pursuits, automobile pursuits, traffic stops,
enhanced security measures during traffic stops, etc.) than citizens residing in
the western precincts. In contrast, official agency documents uncover that local
political interest groups/politicians focus their censure on the aggressive police
responses in the eastern precincts, largely arguing that police patrol practices are
influenced by racial factors rather than the nature of the crime and calls for service.
In the western precincts, as officers and precinct commanders explained, where
crime is consistently relatively minor and expectations for police service are high,
police patrol officers are obliged to forsake traditional law enforcement practices
for more service-oriented assistance.
Officers in the NE Precinct reported on the role of politics and citizen expectations/
demands in varying supervisory styles. One officer in NE explained, when asked
why supervisory styles differed between precincts, “In NE, it is more of a politically
charged atmosphere. NE is subject to more questions. Racial tensions are high.
Command styles revolve around that.” Another officer assigned to NE simply
responded, “Politics dictate what happens.” An officer in SE also mentioned
citizen expectations and local politics as the reason for differences in supervision:
“They are more relaxed out west. I think it is because of the demographics of the
area and the type of business in the area. In SE, they spend a lot more attention on
the downtown area and what those businesses demand. There are no businesses
in NE.”
Officers further reported that policies, and enforcement of policies, vary between
the precincts. An officer assigned to SE said that pursuits (foot and automobile)
“will fly quicker in NE and SE than in NW and SW.” One officer explained why
he/she bid to the NW precinct rather than the NE Precinct. This officer said that
Patrol officers also reported that the manner in which departmental policies are
applied is different in each precinct. An officer assigned to SE reported . . .
Each precinct has a certain way of handling things. Also, there are differences
in command officers. Such as mayor’s complaints [parking complaints that
are reported to the mayor’s hotline]. In NW, the LT [lieutenant] was very
serious about mayor’s complaints. You have to check it several times. In SE,
if you check it one time, you are good.
Officers in SW noted that mayor’s complaints are more frequent in SW than NW:
”We get a lot of mayor’s complaints, more in SW than NW. Not many in NE.” As
an officer in SW explains . . .
An officer assigned to SW said, “The way the rules are applied and interpreted
varies. Rules are always the rules, but the way that they are put into practice has to
do with the command you belong to . . . Policy varies by precinct.”
In NE, the racial tension is high, and the precinct is often the subject of local political
scrutiny and distinct policies. In NE, supervisors instructed officers to refrain from
wearing their department-issued uniform gloves (black leather gloves) when
responding to calls because they look “intimidating” to the African American
population. The racial issues between the precinct and the community are a high-
priority concern in NE and, in turn, shape supervisory styles and practices.
Discussion/Conclusion
The findings from this study suggest that the precinct is a viable and significant
suborganizational level of analysis. It is clear that most participating officers
perceived that supervisory styles vary within the police organization at the
precinct level of analysis. Furthermore, the officers identified factors at three
The findings of the study indicate that participating officers perceive that individual-
level factors are important as partial explanations of variation in supervisory styles.
This finding is sensible; there are few who would argue that individual-level
characteristics are insignificant. In addition, it would also be reasonable to conclude
that persons with aggressive personalities are attracted to increasingly volatile
work areas or that sergeants with more time on the job may desire to work in less
active precincts. What is particularly enlightening, however, is the unearthing that
personality, temperament, and level of experience converge to produce variation
at the precinct level of analysis. For example, concentrations of “hard-charging”
supervisors in high-crime precincts clearly influence supervision and, consequently,
police patrol practices; “hard-charging” supervisors are more apt to be permissive
of aggressive police tactics, even those tactics that may cross the line into the
extreme (Engel, 2000, 2001, 2002). Intensifying this pattern is the fact that newer,
less experienced supervisors are generally assigned to high-crime precincts (due to
personnel bidding policies), which has the potential to further restrict proper control
of police patrol behavior. Aggressive police behavior in high-crime areas is of much
concern among residents and policy makers. The concentration of less experienced,
uncompromising supervisors in these areas can only intensify these concerns.
The findings also demonstrate that factors at the situational and neighborhood levels
of analyses produce precinct-level variation in officers’ perceptions of supervisory
styles. Interview data, field observation notes, and official documents revealed that
the precinct-level variation in supervisory styles is attributable to the nature of the
crime and calls for service in each precinct. In the NE Precinct area, street-level
visible crimes (e.g., gang-related crimes, drugs, shootings, etc.) are more prevalent,
and officers perceive that supervisors are more aggressive. Similarly, in the SE
Precinct, street-level visible crimes and order maintenance crimes (e.g., prostitution,
public drunkenness, etc.) are widespread, and officers perceive supervisors to be
actively involved in the daily operations of patrol. In the SW Precinct, on the other
hand, most of the calls for service concern service-oriented matters, such as civil
disturbance calls (disagreements between neighbors), intrusion alarm calls, and
property and/or personal injury traffic accidents. Sergeants, consequently, are
perceived by their officers as not being as active or visible because most of the crimes
and calls for service are relatively minor (compared to the eastern precincts). Most
of the calls for service in the NW Precinct concern service-oriented matters, as well
as infrequent bursts of more serious street-level crimes (e.g., drugs, cuttings at local
bars/taverns, etc.). Sergeants in the NW Precinct are reportedly perceived as being
largely inactive (not patrolling and responding to calls for service) with moments
of vigorous activity. Not only do the findings indicate that police priorities (e.g.,
law enforcement, order maintenance, and service-oriented activities) vary between
precincts, but these priorities largely shape supervision.
Patrol officers in MMPD perceive that the culture of the clientele, citizen
expectations, and local political influences produce inter-precinct variation in
supervisory styles. In the NE Precinct (which has the city’s highest concentration
of African American residents) and SE Precinct (which has the city’s highest
concentration of Hispanic residents), racial and cultural tensions exacerbate the
Research demonstrates that when local political interest groups focus public
attention on racial tensions between the police and residents, the demand for
supervisory presence increases. The louder the public and political cries, as Van
Maanen implies, the more visible are the supervisors. Since the level of residential
segregation is high in many urban contexts (U.S. Census Bureau, 2002; Wilson,
1987), and if precinct boundaries generally reflect the same patterns (as they do in
MMPD), the suborganizational level of the precinct emerges as a crucial level of
analysis for explaining police behavior, including supervision.
These situational and neighborhood factors also reportedly affect the creation
and enforcement of policies in each precinct. According to officers, precinct
supervisors must react to the crime problems in their areas and adapt to the
expectations of citizen populations and local political groups. Because officers deal
with mass populations, and individual-level tailored responses are impractical,
precinct supervisors establish protocols for handling like situations (Lipsky, 1980).
Precinct supervisors respond by creating informal work rules that apply to specific
situations. As Lipsky (1980) uncovered in his fieldwork . . .
Although not explicitly reported by the officers, it is reasonable that factors at the
legal and organizational levels of analyses would produce variation in supervisory
styles. Laws specific to municipalities generate variation in police practices and
supervisory styles at the precinct level of analysis precisely due to situational
and neighborhood-level variables (e.g., more violent, street-level crime in eastern
precincts). It is also reasonable that organizational factors—bidding processes,
This study finds that the precinct is a significant level of analysis in explaining
officers’ perceptions of police supervision. The current study uncovers that the
standard levels of analyses converge at the precinct to produce a discrete unit of
analysis. Future research should test the external validity of this study’s findings
through replication and an explicit focus on supervision. This study involved one
police organization and relied on officers’ perceptions of variation in supervisory
styles. Furthermore, while research has demonstrated a link between supervisory
styles and patrol behavior, the findings are inconsistent and tenuous. Additional
research is needed to clarify the relationship between supervisory styles and patrol
behavior. As this study uncovers, additional research should employ the precinct
as a suborganizational level of analysis. Observing and analyzing behavior at the
precinct, whether at the line level or up the supervisory chain of command, can
offer us a glimpse into the dynamic world of law enforcement. This view from the
inside may offer clarity not yet achieved.
Endnotes
1
All references to race/ethnicity will follow the guidelines set forth by the United
States Census Bureau.
2
Law Enforcement Management and Administrative Statistics reports that the
national average number of separate and distinct precincts in large, municipal
police organizations is four, which strengthens the external validity of the
findings in the current study.
3
Statistical power analysis (SPA) was used to determine the appropriate sample
size. SPA takes advantage of the relationship among four variables involved
in statistics inference: (1) sample size, (2) significance criterion, (3) population
effect size, and (4) statistical power (Cohen, 1992; Weisburd, Petrosino, & Mason,
1993). In this particular study, because this is the first empirical deductive
assessment of precinct-level variation, it is expected that data analyses
would produce a large effect between each research group, or each precinct
(Cohen, 1992). Additionally, in criminal justice research, the standard alpha, or
significance level, is .05. As Cohen (1992) reports, to compare mean responses at
a large effect size across four groups using an alpha level of .05, the appropriate
sample size is 18 cases (in each group) (p. 158). For a multivariate analysis,
using the same effect size and alpha level, with nine independent variables,
the sample size would need to be at least 50 cases. Furthermore, in determining
the appropriate sample size, it is important to keep the number of cases in each
group similar. As Weisburd et al. (1993) explain, “. . . studies in which the sizes
of the groups examined are relatively similar are more powerful than those in
which the sizes of the groups are markedly different” (p. 350). For these reasons,
the total sample for the quantitative analysis in the current study is 72 officer
responses, or 18 officer responses in each precinct covering all patrol shifts.
4
Structured interviews were not completed with four participating officers;
therefore, only 72 structured interviews were conducted and included in the
analysis.
Crank, J. P. (2003). Institutional theory of police: A review of the state of the art.
Policing: An International Journal of Police Strategies and Management, 26(2), 186-207.
Engel, R. S. (2002). Patrol officer supervision in the community policing era. Journal
of Criminal Justice, 30(1), 51-64.
Engel, R. S. (2003, June). How police supervisory styles influence officer behavior.
Research for Practice, NGT, 194078.
Famega, C. N., Frank, J., & Mazerolle, L. (2005). Managing police patrol time: The
role of supervisor directives. Justice Quarterly, 22(4), 540-559.
Frey, W. H., & Myers, D. (2000). Analysis of Census 2000 and the Social Science Data
Analysis Network (SSDAN). Available online at www.censusscope.org
Hassell, K. D. (2006a). Police organizational cultures and patrol practices. New York:
LFB Scholarly Publishing, Inc.
National Research Council. (2004). Fairness and effectiveness in policing: The evidence.
Washington, DC: The National Academies Press.
Reiss, A. J. (1971). The police and the public. New Haven, CT: Yale University Press.
Reuss-Ianni, E., & Ianni, F. (1983). Street cops and management cops: The two
cultures of policing. In M. Punch (Ed.), Control in the police organization (pp. 251-
274). Cambridge, MA: MIT Press.
Sherman, L. (1980). The causes of police behavior: The current state of quantitative
research. Journal of Research in Crime and Delinquency, 17(1), 69-100.
United States Bureau of the Census. (2002). Racial and ethnic residential segregation in
the United States, 1980–2000. Washington, DC: U.S. Government Printing Office.
Van Maanen, J. (1983). The boss: First-line supervision in an American police agency.
In M. Punch (Ed.), Control in the police organization (pp. 275-317). Cambridge, MA:
MIT Press.
Weisburd, D., Petrosino, A., & Mason, G. (1993). Design sensitivity in criminal
justice experiments. Criminal Justice, 17, 337-379.
Wilson, W. J. (1987). The truly disadvantaged: The inner city, the underclass, and public
policy. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.
Introduction
The ethical values that law enforcement agencies exhibit can affect public
perceptions of the agency’s ability to protect and serve. The general public’s
perception is a result of the agency’s ability to demonstrate that the ethical values
they possess are a reflection of those possessed by the citizens. As public servants,
all law enforcement personnel are obligated to fulfill their duties in the best interest
of the public they serve. This obligation includes ethical responsibilities to both the
agency and the people. To the public, police officers must demonstrate a higher
level of ethical behavior due to their position of authority and power (Johnson &
Cox, 2005). The organizational values of an agency are instilled in its management,
which in turn ingrains it into subordinates. Any discrepancy between the values
and beliefs of a manager and those of the agency could have detrimental effects on
the subordinate. The focus of this article is to investigate the differences in ethical
behaviors among different levels of management and their impact on officers’
attitudes. By analyzing the responses to a National Institute of Justice survey of
law enforcement agencies, a better understanding of the ethical attitudes and
behaviors of law enforcement personnel can be achieved. The results will illustrate
the relationships, if any, that exist between the ethical attitudes and behaviors of
different levels of management and those exhibited by other law enforcement
personnel.
The ethical values of an agency can most readily be observed in those who have the
most contact with the general public. While the agency may have a strong ethical
responsibility to the public, the actual ethical values and behaviors exercised by its
personnel determine the perceptions of those they serve. Conflicting views about
right and wrong behavior by superiors can lead to confusion and misinterpretation
by subordinates. This, in turn, can lead to substandard performance and lack of
public trust.
It is the view of the “public servant” that will be taken within the context of
this article. As a public servant, law enforcement personnel are committed to
the varying behavioral expectations that the general public demands from this
profession. These expectations are higher than those of any other profession
due to the power and authority a law enforcement officer possesses (Johnson &
Cox, 2005). This behavior is affected by different levels of authority as well as
the culture of the organization. Administrators, supervisors, and line officers all
contribute to the ethical behaviors of each other. The intensity of these contributions
varies depending upon the organization and situation. Collectively, the ethical
contributions of all personnel comprise the culture and environment in which law
enforcement is conducted.
The different ethical considerations that are contributed are a product of the
duties that each line officer, supervisor, and administrator must fulfill. Line
officers are exposed to confrontations with criminals and the public. Their values
and behaviors are most readily seen and tested on a daily basis. They must deal
with many problems and situations that require them to use the combination of
the ethical values learned in training, those derived from personal values, those
influenced by peers, and those that are expected by the public. They use their
discretion to handle ethical dilemmas that occur while on duty. Discretion, as
defined by Pollock (1998), is “the ability to choose between two or more courses
of behavior” (p. 151). This is influenced by an officer’s ethical values and plays
The contributions of administrative ethics help to set the tone of the organizational
culture of a law enforcement agency. This is where the policies and procedures
for the values of the organization must begin. Administrators are responsible for
developing the goals and guidelines that subordinate officers are to follow (IACP,
2001). Administrators must consider the reputation of the organization and the
public trust it must uphold. Unlike line officers, administrators are not faced with
the daily street-level decisionmaking that occurs, but they are still responsible for
the influences on those decisions. This is why such an importance is placed on the
ethical values of administrators. An administrator’s personal ethical values should
not interfere with his or her duty to the goals of the organization (Burke, 1989;
Thompson, 1992). Although these values can still influence ethical standards, it is
the combination of organizational responsibility, public perception, and political
influence that administrators often use to shape the organizational culture that
exists within a law enforcement agency.
Supervisors are the one classification that is caught in the middle. Their ethical
contributions to the organizational culture of the law enforcement agency
are derived from their personal beliefs as well a mixture of line officer and
administrative ethics. The supervisor’s duties are to ensure that the policies and
procedures implemented by administrators are carried out by subordinates and
that subordinates adhere to these policies and procedures while fulfilling their
duties to the public and the organization. Supervisory responsibility also extends
to playing the main role in the development and utilization of ethical values by
line officers (IACP, 2001; Peak, Glensor, & Gaines, 1999). Some supervisors, such
as sergeants, have more of a connection with line officers, which can affect their
attitudes towards ethical values. Paoline (2001) found that street supervisors often
have the same attitudes towards organizational environments as line officers. The
contributions of supervisors to organizational culture helps to bring together the
organizational values of the agency as set forth by administrators and the day-to-
day ethical values that are exercised by line officers. This “mediation” role between
labor and management is important in order for the organization to run smoothly
(Peak et al., 1999).
The classifications of officers used here are formed by levels of authority within
an organization. The levels of authority used in this study are line officers, first-
line managers, mid-level managers, and senior-level managers. These levels can
influence the attitudes and behaviors of other officers. The next sections will
discuss what shapes these different levels of authority and what role organizational
culture plays in shaping law enforcement agencies.
First-line managers, such as sergeants and some corporals and lieutenants, are
viewed as a rank caught between management and line officer. Officers see them
as still tied to the street side of policing. Anyone above this level is viewed as being
out of touch with the streets. Higher ranks are considered to be more interested
in the political and economical interests than the safety of officers (Barker, 1999).
Line supervisors are caught in the middle of being told how things will be done
according to administrators and how things really are on the streets. Based on this
difference in perspective, a supervisor must use his or her judgment when making
decisions involving line officers and the public. Supervisors must win the respect
of their subordinates by not forgetting what it is like in the real world yet also
adhere to the management duties set forth by administrators.
Administrators are responsible for setting the standard for organizational culture
in a law enforcement organization, and recruiting the right administrators is the
first step to a fulfilling this goal. Needless to say, law enforcement agencies strive
to attract highly qualified, ethical administrators. Still, applicants to high level
administrative positions can often display traits that can impress interviewers
but often do not illustrate the true core values that comprise their integrity.
A careful examination into what a candidate believes and the values he or she
holds should be conducted. The programs of a leader who has strong beliefs and
values gain better support from the public, are more effective, and last longer.
Ethics and integrity can help determine how a person will behave and perform.
The future leaders of police agencies need to possess the ethical qualities that will
help to reshape policing and the public problems it faces (Plummer, 1995). Official
obligations and moral duties are dependent upon each other. It can become
problematic to place individuals into administrative positions that must choose
between personal morals and organizational responsibility. These positions
may require the incumbent to choose between their morals and values and the
institutional obligations (Burke, 1989). This is why a greater importance should
be placed on selecting the right administrator. To retain the trust of the people,
the administration should not be in conflict with the mission and goals of a public
organization. The administration should then be able to convey these goals and
ethical concerns to all personnel.
Promoting good ethical culture requires good ethical officers in those management
positions that have the greatest influence. This is done through the promotion
process, which can be a barrier to change in an organization. As officers advance
through the ranks of an agency, their attitudes and organizational beliefs are molded
by their experience and environment. Their commitment to the organization can
be affected by the promotional opportunities available (Jaramillo, Nixon, & Sams,
2005). The practice of promoting those who would make the best managers is often
wrought with favoritism and partiality. Barker (1999) suggests that many officers
believe that the process is not by merit but by political grounds that encourage
minority and female promotions. Bolton’s (2003) qualitative analysis rejects the idea
that minorities are favored over whites. From a minority’s perspective, promotion
in an organization is made more difficult. Whetstone (2001) also concludes that
the promotional system itself eliminates many from upward mobility. His study
showed that minorities and women were encouraged more than white males, but
even this was minimal. Whetstone also found that unfair testing processes, biased
administration, and lack of openings were organizational reasons for individuals
not to participate in the promotional process. Conflicting feelings about the
promotional process and lack of encouragement from management can create
problems and an unhealthy organizational culture. Suspicions of the intentions of
managers and loss of confidence by subordinates can result in lower morale and
distrust in management. These feelings can then affect an officer’s attitudes and
behaviors.
Cultural Influence
Organizational culture plays an important role in the development of new officers.
Wilson (1989) defines organizational culture as “a persistent, patterned way of
thinking about the central tasks of and human relationships within an organization”
(p. 91). It is a combination of factors such as environment, attitudes, feelings,
beliefs, morals, and values that exist within the people and the organization. This
“culture” has been cited as a cause of problems (Bolton, 2003; Johnson & Cox, 2005;
Klockars, Ivkovich, Harver, & Haberfeld, 2000; Trautman, 2000). Organizations
can often encourage unethical behavior by introducing the behavior that it expects
from its new recruits. Even the paramilitary methods used in training can influence
a new officer to accept the ethical views of the organization over his or her own
(Johnson & Cox, 2005).
Wilson (1989) describes the street cop/management cop cultures that often pit line
officers against management. Line officers want the assurance that management
will support them at any cost. Management must protect the entire agency at any
cost. This may mean disciplining officers and setting examples of those who do
misdeeds. Line officers can form distrust towards management when they believe
that management has “sold out” to the political side (Wilson, 1989). This division
between street work and administrative work can result in an agency that is
susceptible to problems or corruption from either side.
The responses to the survey were used to measure officers’ knowledge of their
own policies regarding the actions, their opinions of the seriousness of the offense,
how others view the seriousness of the offense, the level of discipline that should
be invoked, the level of discipline that would probably be invoked, whether the
officer would report another officer engaged in the behavior, and whether other
officers would report others engaged in the behavior (Klockars et al., 2000) (See
Appendix II).
The behaviors suggested by the NIJ survey give an indication of the organizational
culture that exists within each agency. This culture, as mentioned earlier, is a
culmination of all the attitudes and beliefs of all personnel as well as the policies
and views of the organization. To investigate this further, this article focuses on
Analyzing Case 7 can illustrate ethical disparities that could exist between different
levels of management and their impact on officers. By examining this, one may be
able to determine the ethical attitudes and even predict the ethical behaviors that
exist within a law enforcement organization. It is hypothesized that . . .
This study focuses on the attitudes of officers and managers towards Case 7 of the
NIJ survey. The responses to three questions concerning Case 7 will be analyzed to
determine any inconsistencies between the three different levels of management
and the attitudes and behaviors of officers towards supervisor misconduct. The
first question, “How serious do you consider this behavior to be?” is answered
using a five-point Likert scale ranging from “Not at all serious” to “Very serious.”
The second question, “If an officer in your agency engaged in this behavior and was
discovered doing so, what, if any, discipline do you think should follow?” uses the
ordinal list of choices “None,” “Verbal reprimand,” “Written reprimand,” “Period
of suspension without pay,” “Demotion in rank,” and “Dismissal.” The third
question, “Do you think you would report a fellow police officer who engaged in
this behavior?” again uses a five-point Likert scale ranging from “Definitely not”
to “Definitely yes.” The first and second questions reveal attitudes one would have
toward the situation; whereas, the third question is an indication of behavioral
action. These particular questions will be used to investigate the different levels of
management and officer attitudes.
The three levels of management (first-line, mid-level, and senior-level) and officer
attitudes will be the focus of this study. By separating these levels of management,
we will be able to acquire a better understanding of how management views
certain ethical situations and their impact on officer attitudes.
Validity
Thirty police agencies were contacted in which 3,235 officers from all of the
contacted agencies responded. This resulted in an overall response rate of 55.5%.
Due to confidentiality, the exact types of police agencies contacted were not
revealed; however, the types of agencies did not include any state agencies and
only one sheriff’s agency (Klockars et al., 2000). There is also selection bias of the
surveyed agencies as they were not randomly chosen. The sample taken from
law enforcement agencies was done as a convenience sample; hence, there is an
increased threat to external validity. The conclusions of this article are, therefore,
only representative of the agencies who participated in the NIJ study.
Results
Analysis of the data collected by the NIJ survey regarding Case 7 has been compiled
in the following tables. The first illustrates basic statistics of the groups that were
analyzed; the other three are regression models that could be used to address the
attitudes and behaviors of officers and management. The regression models are
based upon the independent variables listed in the tables; the dependent variable
is the response of officers. Using these different variables in each situation will
provide indicators for determining what factors influence an officer’s decision-
making process.
Table 1 presents the means, standard deviations, and variances of officers and
the three levels of management studied in regards to the three questions of
the scenario. These responses were based upon the individual’s attitudes and
behaviors towards the misconduct. One noteworthy item of interest here is that
there is a slight increase in the mean scores of the three levels of management as
rank increases. While there is a slight increase, the difference in means among
management levels is very small in comparison to the difference in means between
officers and managers. Also, standard deviations and variances are higher for
discipline and willingness to report. These results suggest that managers have
similar responses in attitudes towards the seriousness of the misconduct but are
not as cohesive in their attitudes about how to punish and whether or not to report
supervisory misconduct.
Table 2 represents the regression analysis observed from the attitudes of the
respondents towards the seriousness of a supervisor’s misconduct in the scenario.
The results show that although all three levels of management are significant, no
level of management has much of an impact on an officer’s attitude towards the
seriousness of supervisor misconduct (b =.061, .067, .017, respectively). Of all three
levels, mid-level managers have the highest beta weights. The same is true for length
of service (b =.029) and the size of the agency (b =.010). The results partially support
Hypothesis 1, which states that officers’ attitudes towards supervisor misconduct
is positively associated with the officer’s attitude regarding peer attitudes towards
supervisor misconduct, the officer’s awareness of policies prohibiting the supervisor
misconduct, supervisor position, length of service, and the size of the agency. The
impact of supervisory position, although small, does lend some support to this
hypothesis; whereas, the size of the agency, which is not significant, does not.
If an officer feels that a policy violation is overlooked or does not know if such a
policy exists, then the officer may not view this as serious. This model demonstrates
that a major influence on officer attitudes towards the seriousness of misconduct is
how he or she believes others will feel about the seriousness of the misconduct.
The regression model suggests that the level of punishment an officer feels is
justifiable can be regulated by what he or she believes the real punishment to be.
This affects an officer’s opinion in that the officer knows the possible “range limits”
set by the agency. Punishment cannot be too strict or too lenient. The officer’s own
feelings of how serious the misconduct is will also dictate how much punishment
should be bestowed.
The last regression model, Table 4, shows the willingness to report supervisor
misconduct. Although the three levels of management are significant, they are
still not very strong predictors of reporting supervisor misconduct (b = .080,
.074, .035, respectively). First-line managers have the strongest impact with mid-
level managers close behind. This third regression model also demonstrates the
trend of senior-level managers to have the weakest impact out of all the levels
of management. Senior-level managers tend to show the weakest beta weights
throughout the three models compared to the other levels of management.
As with the other two models, the length of service (b = .033) and the size of an
agency (b = .045), even though they are significant, still do not impact an officer’s
decision to report supervisor misconduct. Violation of policy (b = .022) and the
possible discipline that is expected (b = .041) showed no indication of being a
strong influence on decisionmaking. Hypothesis 3, which states that an officer’s
willingness to report supervisor misconduct is positively associated with the
officer’s attitude regarding peer willingness to report misconduct, the officer’s
attitude regarding peer attitudes towards supervisor misconduct, the officer’s
attitude regarding punishing supervisor misconduct, the officer’s awareness of
policies prohibiting the supervisor misconduct, actual punishment, supervisory
position, length of service, and the size of the agency, is partially supported by
No one wants to be a whistleblower and face the possibility of reprisal from fellow
officers or management, but this may also be opposed by a person’s own feelings
of how serious the misconduct is. It is in these situations when the internal pressure
of what to do is eclipsed by the pressures of others. This model illustrates what can
be expected when informal organizations and peer pressures have more influence
than rules and regulations. This can lead to unreported acts of unethical behaviors.
A strong indicator of a person’s willingness to report unethical conduct is how he
or she might perceive others’ willingness to report the same conduct. This could
be helpful in identifying and correcting problems with the “code of silence” within
an organization.
Correlations
Own
Own Attitude Own Attitude Willingness
Toward Seriousness Toward Punishment to Report
Own Attitude Toward Seriousness N 1 .586** .589**
3083 3074 3075
Others’ Attitudes Toward .778** .522** .522**
Seriousness N 3077 3071 3072
Punishment That Should Follow N .586** 1 .590**
3074 3077 3072
Punishment That Would Follow N .408** .748** .482**
3072 3070 3070
Own Willingness to Report .589** .590** 1
Misconduct N 3075 3072 3078
Others’ Willingness to Report .492** .532** .807**
Misconduct N 3074 3071 3074
Length of Service N .138** .139** .218**
3062 3056 3058
Size of Agency N -.021 .021 .012
3083 3077 3078
Violation of Policy N .554** .509** .424**
3071 3066 3067
First-Line Managers N .126** .098** .201**
3054 3049 3049
Mid-Level Managers N .100** .063** .146**
3054 3049 3049
Senior-Level Managers N .060** .069** .096**
3054 3049 3049
** Significant at the .01 level (2-tailed)
Attitudes towards punishment that should follow and punishment that would
follow exhibit a strong positive relationship. An officer’s beliefs about how others
feel towards punishment of supervisor misconduct play a large role in their own
attitudes towards punishment. Not wanting to be too harsh or too lenient on
punishment, officers may develop a consensus of the punishment misconduct
deserves from other coworkers. There is also a moderate relationship to one’s own
attitude towards seriousness and willingness to report, which may affect the level
of punishment for this misconduct.
The findings indicate that level of management has no major effect on the attitudes
and behaviors that are exhibited by officers. There are slight differences in responses
between first-line, mid-level, and senior-level managers, but these were found to
be insignificant. Even though these management levels do not play an important
role, the dependence upon the perceived notion of what other officers think does
play a significant role.
The most important aspect of this study is the examination of an officer’s willingness
to report supervisor misconduct. Level of management, length of service, agency
size, punishment that would follow, and others’ attitudes towards seriousness
play no significant role in the decision to report, but the willingness of others to
report does. This is illustrated by the major dependence upon the willingness of
others to report such misconduct and the smaller influence of one’s own attitude
towards seriousness. With such a strong influence by others on reporting ethical
misconduct, an officer surrenders his or her own beliefs and values to his or her
coworkers. This behavior is then controlled by the “group” or to a larger extent,
the organization. This can also be advantageous to the organization if it maintains
a culture of high expectations of ethical standards. By preserving these standards
throughout the organization, officers will adhere to them more if they believe
others are doing the same. This is why continued ethics training is so important to
the integrity of an organization.
Level of management, in this study, did not seem to have much of an influence
on officer attitudes or behaviors. The limits of this study do not allow for an
in-depth analysis of the varying levels of management. Using only one scenario in
As indicated by the regression models, the influence of others has a great power
over those making ethical decisions. This power can often lead to a subverted
culture that can exist within an organization. The peer pressure and perceptions of
what others may think can lead an officer to “go along with the crowd” or “watch
each other’s backs.” This can then develop into lack of integrity or even corruption
(Johnson & Cox, 2005; Klockars et al., 2000). Corrupt or dishonest organizations
are then at risk of losing public trust. Loss of trust, in turn, results in loss of support
(Feldheim & Wang, 2004).
The correlations found between the questions of attitude and behavior also help
to sustain the hypotheses that indicate that the influence of others can influence
one’s own decision-making process. This demonstrates not only that a relationship
exists between the supposed views of others and one’s own views, but it shows
that there is a strong relationship. The strength of this relationship is so strong
that it has been known to corrupt officers and ruin careers. The work of Weisburd,
Hamilton, Williams, Bryant, and Greenspan (2000) supports the idea that going
against another officer can result in social isolation. This work also reports that
most officers agree that not reporting misconduct is not uncommon (Weisburd et
al., 2000). This “code of silence” may often lead officers and management to step
over that boundary of breaking ethical rules and into corruption (Klockars et al.,
2000; Trautman, 2000).
This provides a starting point to determine what ethical problems can exist within
the law enforcement community and what areas need to be addressed during
ethics training. Ethics training needs to be a balance of theoretical and practical
applications. This training needs to address critical thinking, reasoning skills,
and problem-solving abilities. Identifying and defining the virtues that comprise
integrity is the first step in developing officers of integrity (Vicchio, 1997). Ethics
training should not end after the usual short 4-hour courses taught in most police
training academies (IACP, 2001). Instead, it should continue throughout an officer’s
career and into management. The use of ethics in a law enforcement agency is
something that just cannot be taught; it must be integrated into the organizational
culture (Vicchio, 1997).
References
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4. If an officer in your agency engaged in this behavior and was discovered doing
so, what, if any, discipline do YOU think SHOULD follow?
1. None
2. Verbal Reprimand
3. Written Reprimand
4. Period of Suspension Without Pay
5. Demotion in Rank
6. Dismissal
5. If an officer in your agency engaged in this behavior and was discovered doing
so, what if any discipline do YOU think WOULD follow?
1. None
2. Verbal Reprimand
3. Written Reprimand
4. Period of Suspension Without Pay
5. Demotion in Rank
6. Dismissal
6. Do you think YOU would report a fellow police officer who engaged in this
behavior?
Definitely Not Definitely Yes
1 2 3 4 5
Case Scenarios
Case 1. A police officer runs his own private business in which he sells and installs security
devices, such as alarms, special locks, etc. He does this work during his off-duty hours.
Case 2. A police officer routinely accepts free meals, cigarettes, and other items of small value
from merchants on his beat. He does not solicit these gifts and is careful not to abuse the
generosity of those who give gifts to him.
Case 3. A police officer stops a motorist for speeding. The officer agrees to accept a personal
gift of half of the amount of the fine in exchange for not issuing a citation.
Case 4. A police officer is widely liked in the community, and on holidays, local merchants
and restaurant and bar owners show their appreciation for his attention by giving him gifts
of food and liquor.
Case 5. A police officer discovers a burglary of a jewelry shop. The display cases are smashed,
and it is obvious that many items have been taken. While searching the shop, he takes a
watch, worth about 2 days’ pay for that officer. He reports that the watch had been stolen
during the burglary.
Case 6. A police officer has a private arrangement with a local auto body shop to refer the
owners of cars damaged in accidents to the shop. In exchange for each referral, he receives
payment of 5% of the repair bill from the shop owner.
Case 7. A police officer, who happens to be a very good auto mechanic, is scheduled to work
during coming holidays. A supervisor offers to give him these days off, if he agrees to tune
up his supervisor’s personal car. Evaluate the supervisor’s behavior.
Case 8. At 2:00 am, a police officer, who is on duty, is driving his patrol car on a deserted road.
He sees a vehicle that has been driven off the road and is stuck in a ditch. He approaches the
vehicle and observes that the driver is not hurt but is obviously intoxicated. He also finds
that the driver is a police officer. Instead of reporting this accident and offense, he transports
the driver to his home.
Case 9. A police officer finds a bar on his beat that is still serving drinks a half-hour past its
legal closing time. Instead of reporting this violation, the police officer agrees to accept a
couple of free drinks from the owner.
Case 10. Two police officers on foot patrol surprise a man who is attempting to break into an
automobile. The man flees. They chase him for about two blocks before apprehending him
by tackling him and wrestling him to the ground. After he is under control, both officers
punch him a couple of times in the stomach as punishment for fleeing and resisting.
Case 11. A police officer finds a wallet in a parking lot. It contains an amount of money
equivalent to a full day’s pay for that officer. He reports the wallet as lost property but keeps
the money for himself.
Introduction
The prevalence of management, leadership, and executive development programs
are evidenced by the literature that reveals a plethora of seminars and courses
delivered by public, private, and nonprofit organizations. There are consulting
companies, journals, consortia, and business schools in existence to specifically
address the development of leaders. Proquest/UMI’s dissertation database (2006)
contains more than 835 studies on leadership in the past 25 years as well as 65
specific studies on leadership development and executive development, but few
studies are aimed at the development of leadership in policing.
With the serious human capital issue (recruiting and retention) facing police
organizations related to impending retirements, succession planning, development,
and enrichment of future leaders is of paramount importance. Expectations have
been heightened for law enforcement and other public safety organizations. As they
undertake those efforts, there is the need for external awareness and outreach.
The manager has a short-range view; the leader has a long-range perspective.
The manager asks how and when; the leader asks what and why. The manager
has his eye always on the bottom line; the leader has his eye on the horizon.
The manager imitates; the leader originates.
The manager accepts the status quo; the leader challenges it. The manager
is the classic good soldier; the leader is his own person. The manager does
things right; the leader does the right thing. Effective performance by
supervisors and managers require an understanding and application of both
management and leadership skills. (p. 45)
While these contrasts may seem simplistic, upon close examination, the
comparisons show distinct differences in management and leader behaviors.
Clearly, leaders exercise several of the constructs laid out by Bennis (1989). In the
current climate of policing, police supervision and management is better served
by those with an ability to exercise both management and leadership skills at the
appropriate moments.
In the 1990s, the Royal Canadian Mounted Police (RCMP) undertook a fundamental
review of all its training, with the objective of introducing problem solving and the
continuous learning approach, which is essential to community policing (Himelfarb,
1997). Himelfarb further asserted that the RCMP training evolved into a learner-
centered approach rather than an instructor-centered model, leading to a paradigm
shift in which the impetus became more learning than training.
Birzer and Tannehill (2001) recognized changes in the approach to training with the
RCMP as a means to deal with the challenges of policing.
Another salient feature of the RCMP approach is the client-centered design of training.
For example, the police assess and define problems through understanding the needs
and expectations of their client base. The RCMP has placed increased emphasis on
self-directed learning and continuous learning. All members of the RCMP are now
expected to accept increased responsibility for their own development. This is in
stark contrast to many police agencies in which commanders or supervisors pick the
classes that their personnel will attend and the officer has minimal say in the type of
training he or she desires or needs to attend (Birzer & Tannehill, 2001).
There are a number of trainers that stress the importance of including the concept of
customer service in contemporary police training. This concept is being reinforced
in training sessions for management and executive development in New England
and California through the course content delivery model.
Pedagogy v. Andragogy
Facilitated discussions, led by skilled instructors, are aimed to encourage sharing,
enhance reflection, and encourage critical thinking skills. Knowles (1970) defined
andragogy as the “art and science of helping adults learn.” Knowles argued that
adults must be taught differently than children because the learning process of
adults is drastically distinct when compared to that of children or the traditional
pedagogical approach.
• Adults need to know why they need to learn something before undertaking to
learn it.
• Adults have a self-concept of being responsible for their own lives.
• Adults come into an educational activity with both a greater volume and a
different quality of experience from youths.
• Adults become ready to learn those things they need to know or to cope
effectively with their real-life situations.
• In contrast to children’s and youths’ subject-centered orientation, adults are
task-centered or problem-centered in their orientation to learning.
• While adults are responsive to some extrinsic motivators (e.g., better jobs,
promotions, salary increases), the more potent motivators are intrinsic
motivators (desire for increased self-esteem, quality of life, responsibility, job
satisfaction). (Adapted from Birzer, 2004)
Birzer (2004) worked to apply the benefits of Knowles’ Theory of Andragogy in the
discipline of criminal justice education. Birzer believes that there are advantages to
the adragogical application including that it draws on students’ past experience,
treats students as adults, adapts to the diverse needs and expectations of students,
and develops critical thinking skills, judgment, and creativity in the learner.
Oblinger (2005) likewise focuses on the importance of creating learning spaces
designed to encourage an active, collaborative teaching and learning style.
At the Institute, the conceptual continuum begins with the Command Training
Series: FLSC, which is intended to focus on the development of officers who are
responsible for the day-to-day immediate supervision of individual police officers.
Although most first-line supervisors are typically at the corporal or sergeant
rank, the curriculum and its presentation are delivered with role responsibility,
rather than rank title in mind. FLSC considers the difficulties of an employee
The Command Training Series: MMC, the second tier of the continuum, recognizes
the scope of responsibility of a police official, typically a lieutenant, who oversees
the function of a unit comprised of subordinate supervisors and police officers
over whom he or she exercises authority. At the mid-manager level, at which
sworn officers become responsible for larger groups of people, it is important to
recognize the need to develop interpersonal and administrative skills as a means
of accomplishing agency goals and objectives.
There are unique approaches and dynamics for each component of the continuum,
dependent upon the role and responsibility of the audience, with each level
designed as a stand alone course. Course topics can be found in Appendix A.
In the FLSC and MMC, case studies are introduced for problem identification
and group process problem-solving exercises. At the EDC level, real-life issues
are presented by students. Through collaboration, they identify the problems,
potential stakeholders, and possible alternatives along with recommendations for
action, implementation, and evaluation.
During focus group research conducted by the Institute, New England regional
police executives and training officials indicated that courses should be taught
by instructors with extensive “real-world” experience and strong academic
credentials. In that regard, faculty has been drawn primarily from throughout the
New England law enforcement community, representing various sized agencies
and jurisdictional responsibilities. Faculty typically hold, at a minimum, a master’s
degree while a significant number hold doctoral degrees in public administration,
law, criminal justice, and education.
Jurkanin and Sergevnin (2003) analyzed current national programs that focus on
police executive development. This research expanded on past research by Heck
(1990) in which police executive development programs were defined as being
“specifically designed to develop the skills of upper-level police administrators.”
Heck (1990) identified 10 topics as principal areas for focus in executive development
training. Jurkanin and Sergevnin (2003) found that only six topics appeared in
50% or more of recent programs, including personnel management, executive role
in management, strategic planning, legal issues, budget management, and media
relations. Additional topics were found in newer programs, including leadership,
organizational theory and culture, ethics, communication, and forecasting issues.
Effective January 2006, all police academy recruits in California are now exposed
to leadership, ethics, and community problem-solving skill development in the
basic academy. The concepts are reinforced throughout the basic academy. Since
POST academy graduates are employed by California’s 600-plus local, county,
and state agencies, all new officers are receiving leadership development training.
Furthermore, most of the state’s 81 academies are affiliated with community
colleges; thus, basic academy recruits earn college credit for the academy
experience.
The curriculum team designed a four-course, 160-hour program and field tested
each course three times, revising and refining them based on feedback from
professionals participating in the pilot courses.
Program Overview
The target audience for the CPSLEP includes a primary audience of presupervisory
successor development. Preservice personnel are the secondary audience along
with journey level/supervisory members of police, fire, and corrections. The
courses include Developing a Personal Philosophy of Leadership, Leading Others,
Organization Leadership, as well as Ethics and the Challenge of Leadership.
Course descriptions can be found in Appendix B. Each course is intended to build
on the other. The facilitator guide for each course is generally set up for 8-hour
days but may be modified for shorter segments as necessary to meet local needs.
To this point, several hundred students have participated in this program. The
program is administered through community colleges and universities, as well as
public safety agencies.
Through the utilization of facilitated discussion delivery in the two locations, the
adult learners are engaged in self-directed learning. This interactive methodology,
which appreciates the reservoir of knowledge intrinsic in the life experiences of the
students, serves as an increasing resource for learning consistent with Knowles’
beliefs and hopefully creates a desire for lifelong learning.
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Robert W. McKenna, MS, JD, is an assistant dean and the director of the
Justice System Training & Research Institute in the School of Justice Studies
at Roger Williams University in Bristol, Rhode Island. Prior to his tenure at
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lieutenant in command of the Planning and Training Unit.
FLSC Topics
• Exploring Leadership and Communication Styles
• Meyers-Briggs Type Indicator: Leadership, Management and Transitions
• Leadership and Management for the First Line Supervisor
• Situational and Crisis Leadership
• Communication: Interpersonal and Organizational
• Problem Solving and Data Analysis
• Planning
• Ethical Decisionmaking
• Discipline, Labor Relations, and Labor Law
• Performance Evaluation
• Community Policing, Leadership and Management
• Action Planning – Bringing It All Together
• New England Police Chiefs’ Roundtable
Mid-Managers’ Topics
• Emotional Intelligence
• Leadership, Coaching, and Mentoring
• Communications: Internal and External
• Problem Employees and Conflict Management
• Labor Issues and Legal Research
• Data Analysis, Planning, and Project Management
• Organizational Culture and Change Management
• Budgeting: Understanding the Process
• Management from a Systems Perspective
• Contemporary and Critical Issues
• New England Police Chiefs’ Roundtable
Executive Leadership
• Leadership
• Change Management
• Generational Issues
• Budgeting
• The Political Landscape
• Legal Issues for Executives
• Personality Self-assessment Survey
• Executive Core Qualifications
• Action Plan
In law enforcement, the research suggests that proper decisionmaking on the job
can be fostered, in part, through the promulgation of sound policies at the agency
command level, which can translate into appropriate patterns of practice on the
street by incumbent officers (Becknell, Mays, & Giever, 1999; Brown, 1979; Walker,
1999; Wilson, 1970). The research further suggests that basic recruit training can
play a fundamental and significant role in preparing law enforcement trainees
to properly and ethically handle the intricacies of contemporary policing prior to
working the street (Baker & Carter, 1994; Vander Kooi, 2006).
In a practical sense, law enforcement officers are faced with a number of decisions
during a typical tour of duty. They are required to successfully, and quite often
independently, handle situations that range from the most serious and complex to
the most mundane and routine. The outer limits of discretionary authority may be
shaped by departmental policies and court precedent, but individual choices are
influenced by a variety of situational factors (Bittner, 1990; Brown, 1979). Recruit
training must produce quality decisionmaking skills, and, as Brown (1979) points
out, we should probably be less concerned “. . . with worrying about how much
discretion patrolmen have and searching for ways to eliminate it, than with trying
to enlarge their qualities of judgment and making them responsive to the people
they serve” (p. 31). Those in law enforcement training must continually look for
learning approaches that will improve their effectiveness in developing the very
competencies that may ultimately influence officer behavior in a positive way.
This article offers one approach to validity. Higher thinking skills can be identified
through sound job task analyses, which form the basis for content validity. Job tasks
can be linked to the learning domain, which in turn, can be linked to basic training
objectives, which are delivered during training. Test measures must be reliable as
well, or more accurately, the inferences one makes from test performance must be
valid and reliable. As discussed in this article, the Rasch statistical methodology of
measurement is one option that may be used to ensure the validity of testing and
assessment in the academy setting.
Problem-Based Learning
In a theoretical context, decisionmaking is based on Bloom’s (1984) taxonomy
of higher learning and consists of three major components: (1) identifying a
problem, (2) blending newly acquired information with existing information for
an appropriate resolution, and (3) evaluating outcomes, both immediate and long
term (Bittner, 1990; Boostrom, 1992; Brown, 1979; Ruggiero, 1991). Bloom (1984)
and others refer to these higher thinking components as analysis, synthesis, and
evaluation (Bloom, Englehart, Furst, Hill, & Krathwohl, 1956). The challenge for
law enforcement training, then, is to identify viable learning and educational
methodologies that will best develop higher order thinking at the recruit level.
Currently, most basic training academies are tooled for lecture-based delivery
platforms (Post, 1992). Students typically listen to lectures, take notes, and then
apply their newly acquired knowledge to contrived situations. The idea that
student-centered pedagogies, specifically PBL, however, seems to be gaining
popularity, and may be potentially productive strategies to improve the quality
of learning and develop higher order thinking in the basic training environment
(Knowles, 1984; Mager, 1973; Vander Kooi, 2006; Woods, 1994).
PBL is grounded in the constructivist theoretical model (Eggen & Kauchak, 1999).
Constructivist thinking is an overarching theory of human learning posited by
psychological and philosophical theorists (Fosnot, 1996; Piaget, 1950). Those
concerned with law enforcement education and training are now seriously
exploring the efficacy of cognitive and social constructivism to serve as the
primary training theory for building modern policing competencies and higher
order thinking. The several dimensions of constructionist theory typically become
operational in the classroom through practical approaches such as problem-based
learning and interactive teaching (Brookfield, 1986; Sims, 2006).
From this perspective, learning occurs when students resolve real problems that
simulate work-related situations, problems that force the students to synthesize
information from a variety of sources. The advocates of PBL argue that by working
through problem situations, often in peer groups, the students will not only
acquire new skills (knowledge) but will do so contextually while building generic
problem-solving and critical thinking competencies. The focus is on experiential
(contextual) learning (De Lint, 2002).
Validity
By most estimates, the PBL approach is gaining momentum in law enforcement
training. Its popularity is growing, and an increasing number of states are showing
genuine interest in the model for recruit training; however, as intuitively pleasing
as the approach seems to be, one must ask about the evidence that supports the
validity of teaching critical thinking and problem-solving skills at the recruit level.
If state regulatory agencies encourage their training delivery systems to place an
increasing emphasis on teaching higher order thinking, as they seem to be doing,
it is essential that those same agencies identify ways to establish the supportive
validity of those approaches.
In the law enforcement context, validity refers to the concept that standards and
evaluation must be based on the essential job tasks performed by patrol officers
working in the profession. Data must be collected that supports the job-relatedness
of statewide standards. Determining minimum competency for a profession, as
state regulatory agencies are required to do, is a high stakes endeavor. Ultimately, it
is essential to satisfactorily maintain not only the job-relatedness of the training and
educational standards, but also the validity of classroom testing and measurement
(Cherryholmes, 1988).
The validation strategies outlined in this article are based on content and construct
evidence of validity. It is the process used by the Michigan Commission on Law
Enforcement Standards (MCOLES), the law enforcement regulatory agency in the
state of Michigan, to establish and maintain the validity of its employment and
training standards. To maintain content validity, a strategy can be structured for
higher order thinking in the same manner as for any other training objective in the
learning domain. It need not deviate from processes already in place. What may
be of particular interest, however, is Michigan’s approach to construct validity for
testing and measurement and how such validity can best be maintained in the PBL
environment. The approach suggested in this article is based on a statistical model
known in the measurement literature as Rasch measurement, which is a relatively
recent innovation in psychometric theory. This article suggests its potential as
a viable strategy for establishing the validity of evaluation in the PBL training
environment.
MCOLES is the state agency that sets statewide standards for the selection,
employment, training, and retention of law enforcement officers. More specifically,
MCOLES’ statutory responsibilities include the authority to promulgate medical
and nonmedical standards (e.g., education, hearing, vision, physical fitness,
reading ability, good moral character, and training). The current governing body
of MCOLES consists of 15 members who are appointed by the governor. The
membership is diverse. It consists of representatives from police agencies, sheriff’s
departments, labor organizations, prosecution, and defense. MCOLES serves a
diverse population and oversees 23 basic recruit academies statewide.
The MCOLES basic training objectives are job-related in the sense that they
represent the essential job tasks of a patrol officer as identified in the JTA. As is the
case nationally, this one-to-one correspondence between the learning domain and
what is taught in the classroom forms the foundation upon which the validation
strategy is structured. It should be pointed out that the state’s training objectives are
not written in terms of basic knowledge or comprehension. Instead, the objectives
and subobjectives are written as behavioral outcomes, and student performance
becomes the demonstration of learned competencies. If a law enforcement training
curriculum is to have content validity, job-relatedness, and a logical structure,
those responsible for its creation must initially identify and document the requisite
competencies and skills that lead to appropriate behavioral outcomes in real-life
situations.
If instructors use PBL methodology and the training environment gradually shifts
from traditional pedagogies to the PBL approach, however, it will be necessary
for the measurement of student competency to shift, as well. Paper-and-pencil,
multiple-choice tests have their place in the training environment and should never
be eliminated. They are useful tools to measure knowledge, comprehension, and
application, but if the students are taught higher order thinking, as suggested by
the PBL model, conventional evaluation may no longer be adequate. Practitioners
must consider alternative assessment methodologies when evaluating higher order
thinking. As with other types of assessment, PBL evaluation need not be restricted
to pass-fail determinations. Rather, outcome-based assessments should be used as
diagnostic instruments, as well as a way for the instructional cadre to monitor and
evaluate students as they make their way through the PBL environment.
If students are taught higher order thinking, they will ultimately be required to
demonstrate knowledge by performing or behaving in a minimally acceptable
manner. In other words, students will be required to apply their knowledge and
skill within the context of a real-world situation. Measurements must be reliable.
Similarly, the inferences made from the observed behaviors in the PBL environment
must be valid, and the testing instruments themselves must be well grounded in
content and construct validity.
Staff first closely examined the existing job task analysis to ensure content validity.
Then, using an interactive group process, staff obtained input from a panel of
subject matter experts (SMEs). It was believed that the model should include
direction and input from those in the law enforcement profession who possessed
the requisite experience, expertise, and insight regarding acceptable recruit
performance. Eventually a working prototype was created for measuring behavior
in a domestic violence situation. Experimentation at selected academies statewide
is ongoing.
As the recruits work through the prototype, they are required to reach reasonable
outcomes, maintain officer safety, ensure constitutional protections, behave
ethically, perform consistently with policies and procedures, and make reasonable
decisions. In addition, the model requires evaluators to use objective, declarative
sentences to document recruit behavior. The evaluators are essentially being asked
to assess as if they were the student’s supervisor on the job, rather than as part of the
instructional cadre. In that manner, the model assumes a more qualitative nature
as it shifts from the use of observational checklists of tasks to written observations
of actual behavior. Since PBL teaches the recruits to think holistically when faced
with a situation for which several possible outcomes may be acceptable, the use
of qualitative assessment is better suited to measure such behaviors. Bond &
Fox (2001) state that when summarizing human attributes, there is “the need for
augmentation by some qualifying descriptive data” (p. 197).
MCOLES will continue experimenting with the prototype and continue to collect
data regarding its efficacy and utility. On an intuitive level, such a model seems
to be a more meaningful way to assess the higher thinking skills. Bond and Fox
(2001) point out, “This at least recognizes the inherent subjectivity involved in
collecting information about any human condition” (p. 66).
At its core, the Rasch dichotomous model analyzes nonlinear test scores using log-
odds probabilities that are independent of the sample. Furthermore, both person
ability and item difficulty are measured using a single interval metric. Using
log-odds probabilities transforms nonlinear test data into interval data suitable
for linear measurements and interpretation. In the Rasch model, the logarithmic
transformation of test results is really a natural log of the ratio of correct responses
to incorrect responses, or the natural log of the probability of getting an item
correct. Rasch produces output that indicates how well a set of test items fits the
model’s expectations (probabilities), the reliability of both persons and items in
terms of ability and difficulty, and a display of items and persons measured on
a single equal-interval scale (Bond & Fox, 2001; Michell, 2003; Wright & Masters,
1982; Wright & Stone, 1979).
As discussed by Bond and Fox (2001), the Rasch model addresses several
measurement principles that are central to construct validity: unidimensionality,
item to model fit, difficulty and ability estimations, and reliability of inferences
made from scores. Taken as a whole, the resolution of these issues can help
In the Rasch model, item difficulty and person ability estimations are measured in
terms of logits and are placed on a common interval scale for evaluation. The logit
scale positions both items and persons. As Bond and Fox (2001) point out, “Each
item and person is located along the logit scale according to its estimated value:
more positive (higher) persons are more able and more positive (higher) items are
more difficult” (p. 34). The evaluator can then determine which items and persons
fit the model’s expectations.
MCOLES has been using the dichotomous Rasch model for its licensing examination
since the late 1980s. Similarly, the partial credit model for polytomous data can be
used for performance-based assessments.
During the design phase, staff asked several fundamental questions. First,
how confident can one be in making inferences about those taking the test? In
other words, how well does the test discriminate among test takers (examinee
separation)? Secondly, do the four events create a well-defined construct called
“fitness” (item reliability)? In addition, to what extent and in what manner do
the four events contribute to an understanding of the underlying construct?
Do the events contribute in an equal way, or are there varying degrees in their
contributions? Finally, where along a common hierarchical continuum would the
events be distributed?
In order to address these questions, MCOLES used the Rasch rating scale model
for polytomous data (Bond & Fox, 2001; Wright & Masters, 1982). Staff selected
a convenience sample of 81 examinees from Grand Rapids Community College
and the Flint Police Academy and subjected their physical performances to Rasch
statistical procedures. Staff then examined person and item reliability estimates,
standard errors in measurement, difficulty levels, person abilities, and model fit
statistics based on the Rasch estimations.
The reliability statistics for both persons and events was 0.75 and 0.82 respectively.
The person reliability of 0.75 indicated that the measurement scale discriminated
relatively well among the test takers (person separation). Thus, staff was confident
in making inferences about the examinees’ abilities from their performances.
Similarly, the item reliability of 0.82 demonstrated that the events created a well-
defined construct. That is, the items were unique and distinct, yet measured one
competency (item separation). Table 1 displays the Rasch output. The outfit mean
square statistics indicated that the events fit the Rasch estimations well, as do the
ZSTD statistics. Outfit measurements are unweighted estimates of the degree of
fit to the model estimations and are expressed in terms standardized z or t scores.
Outfit statistics are sensitive to unexpected extremes; whereas, infit statistics are
weighted estimates that give more value to on-target observations. For model
fit, the analyst looks for outfit and infit mean square statistics near 1 and ZSTD
statistics near 0. The logit measures indicate how close the events are to one
another in terms of their contribution to the construct. The outfit statistics in Table
1 indicate that all four events fit the Rasch expectations and are therefore suitable
as measures of fitness.
Entry
No. Logit Error Outfit MNSQ Infit MNSQ Outfit ZSTD Infit ZSTD Items
1 -.25 .15 .97 .98 -.2 -.1 Jump
2 .08 .15 .99 .95 -.1 -.3 Sit-Ups
3 .55 .15 .95 1.01 -.3 .1 Push-Ups
4 -.38 .15 .96 1.03 -.2 .2 Run
Table 2 displays the comparison of the examinees and the events on a common
hierarchical scale represented in logits. The examinees are plotted to the left of
center, and the events are located to the right of center. The better performing
examinees appear toward the higher end of the continuum, and the lesser
performing examinees appear toward the lower end of the continuum. Each “X”
symbol represents two examinees and each “#” represents one examinee (N = 81).
Similarly, events that contribute less to an understanding of fitness are located
toward the higher end of the continuum. That is, it is more difficult to determine
its contribution to the underlying construct and therefore less likely to be endorsed
by staff. The Rasch model establishes the midpoint logit values at zero (M+M)
along the measurement scale. S and Q are one and two standard deviations from
the mean respectively.
Persons Items
3 X
#XX
2
XXX
XX Q
1 #XX
XXX
#XXX S
Push-ups
0 XXXXXXXX M+M Sit-Ups
XXXX S Jump Run
-1 XXXXX
Q
#XX
-2
#X
-3
X
-4
X
-5
In examining Table 2, one can see that all events are located in close proximity in
terms of their contributions to an understanding of the construct. Push-ups and
sit-ups contribute slightly less, and the shuttle run and jump contribute slightly
more. It can also be seen that the push-ups differentiate among those of higher
Conclusion
Construct validity can be established by linking the learning domain with the
job tasks performed by incumbent officers as identified through a sound job task
analysis. Blueprinting what is taught in training to what officers actually do on
the street ensures the job-relatedness of the process. When considering the efficacy
of testing instruments, however, the discussion essentially shifts from issues
concerning content validity to issues concerning construct validity. Evaluation
instruments must be constructed in such a manner that individual items on a
written test, or the individual components of a behaviorally based performance
assessment, are validly constructed and provide reliable inferences based on
scores. The Rasch family of measurements can provide the evaluator with viable
options for maintaining such validity and can be beneficial when used properly in
the testing environment. Equally important, adequately structured performance
assessments, together with the conceptualizations of Rasch measurement, can assist
state regulatory agencies in maintaining the evidence of validity for higher order
thinking. It should be noted that the recommended use of Rasch measurement
models is not intended to replace standard statistical analyses. Instead, the models
can by used by the analyst to complement the more conventional statistical
methodologies.
This article offers a validation strategy for the PBL training environment and
examines the feasibility of using a statistical methodology known as Rasch
measurement to establish and maintain the validity and reliability of assessment
in such an environment. It suggests a methodology and demonstrates an approach
that can be used in the development of sound validation practices for both training
and testing. Although no measurement is perfectly accurate and all contain some
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Introduction
Conducting an annual criminal justice career fair since 2000 has convinced us of the
value of a discipline-specific event that brings students majoring in criminal justice
into direct conversations with criminal justice agency recruiters over employment
and career possibilities. We have been the two chairs of our Department of
Criminal Justice and Criminology career fair at Ball State University these past
6 years. The dearth of academic and professional literature offering practical and
empirical insights comprises the major catalyst for this article, which provides us
an opportunity to . . .
• Share our rationale for a discipline-specific, criminal justice career fair in place of
the more typical university-wide event in the best interests of students, program
utility, and the high quality of public safety service offered by agencies.
• Encourage practitioners to approach academic criminal justice departments at
their local and regional universities about the prospect of holding a discipline-
specific career fair.
• Provide key information to academic departments concerning how to
successfully hold a career fair, including what we have found through experience
to be useful caveats.
• Present some supporting student survey and recruiter evaluation findings
emphasizing the value of such an event as an effective collaboration among
criminal justice agencies and academic criminal justice departments.
The point of transition from the study of criminal justice to the practice of criminal
justice is critical. Nevertheless, before and after graduation, academicians
typically leave students to grapple with launching their careers despite being
relatively ignorant about how best to accomplish such an important undertaking.
Future success as practitioners is a key component to the lasting impact of a
college education, so we view the hands-off approach to student job-seeking as
unfortunate.
This article appears to be the first of its kind, though very general information can
be found on the subject of career fairs (e.g., tips for jobseekers on how to prepare
for and then participate in a job fair) (“Job Fairs,” 2000; Rindegard, 1999). Students
also can access self-assessments as they ponder possible career paths that suit
their personalities and preferences (Arenofsky, 2001). TypeFocus™ offers a free
Background
The 21st century confronts U.S. employers and employees with some substantial
difficulties, ones that hardly bypass the public sector. Lower tax revenues for local
and state criminal justice agencies and departments have in many cases led to
service reductions, unfilled positions, and delays in capital outlays. The flux in
our local, state, and national economies over the past few years, particularly when
combined with the unprecedented levels of retirement in the law enforcement
field, creates serious hurdles for agencies and departments as they strive to
identify, gain access to, and successfully recruit highly qualified candidates for
critical public safety professions. Technological advances now enable web-based
recruiting efforts, and this can be a useful allied approach. A wholesale shift to
web-recruiting is doubtful, however, because this seems unlikely to provide a
suitable substitute for face-to-face interactions at employment fairs (e.g., Chung,
2003; Hill, 2004; Ligos, 2004; Tyler, 2000). Career fairs, therefore, offer distinct
advantages unlikely to be trumped by the relative convenience of the Internet,
and we consider some of these key advantages below.
Here at our institution, Ball State University, the Career Center holds a large
employment fair in both the fall and spring semesters (Ball State University Career
Center, 2005a). Because of the relative size of the smaller public sector versus larger
private sector workforces, in combination with needing to satisfy a broad spectrum
of student interests that reflect highly varied disciplinary backgrounds, the vast
majority of recruiters at university-wide job fairs are from the private sector. In
addition, a university-wide event generally maximizes the variety of employers
at the cost of focusing on relatively narrow student subpopulations, such as is the
case of those who aspire to criminal justice and allied positions (e.g., see Payne &
Sumter, 2005). Anecdotally, our university-wide job fair appears to hold limited
interest among our criminal justice and criminology majors since so few seem to
avail themselves of this on-campus event. The solution to the problem that we
perceived in the Department of Criminal Justice and Criminology in the spring
of 2000 was to bridge the sizeable chasm between being a criminal justice student
and becoming a criminal justice practitioner, something we accomplished through a
discipline-specific career fair (generally, see Payne & Sumter 2005; Zechmeister &
Helkowski, 2001). We discuss this in greater detail in the coming pages, beginning
with our rationale for devoting so much time, energy, and other resources to this
event.
Students majoring in criminal justice too often wait until late in their university
studies to begin meaningful pre-professional career planning. This behavior can
seriously hamper students in making smooth and timely transitions from the
college classroom to the workplace. In their own interests, students should develop
the widest possible array of entry-level career choices early in their academic
experiences. This requires considerable initiative on their part, and, frankly, the
message of pre-professional planning can be difficult to impress on them. We
believe our annual career fair provides an important motivational element.
The next section covers some of the more compelling reasons to conduct a discipline-
specific career fair. Following this discussion, we share our thoughts on some of
the major considerations in conducting a career fair (i.e., department committee
composition, first-time planning considerations, scheduling and choosing a site
for the event, recruiter mailing list and invitations, registration information, fees
and processing applications, and promoting student involvement). This article
concludes with our empirical findings from an evaluation by participating recruiters
and surveys of CJC majors and minors who did (or did not) attend our recent annual
career fair. Both instruments have been informative, and we share some pertinent
findings to exemplify the value we see in having an empirical foundation—one
absent in the literature to date—for reflecting on past decisionmaking, determining
near-term preferences, and considering enhancements for future criminal justice
career fairs.
No Commitment Necessary
A discipline-specific career fair brings practitioners and students together in a
neutral setting where questions can be posed from both sides of the table, answers
provided and considered, and preliminary decisions made about suitable fit. This
provides a relatively low-stress setting for both students and recruiters alike where
neither needs to make binding commitments.
Despite our best efforts in the classroom, hallways, and office hours, student
perceptions about careers in criminal justice and the allied private sector are
deeply influenced by the bombardment of media images. These perceptions can
fuel rather fantastic notions about the range of choices and the nature of certain
work, along with their relative importance as novice employees at the bottom
of the organizational pyramid. For instance, we have spoken with countless
high school seniors and college underclassmen who, upon graduation with a
bachelor’s degree, anticipate a career in forensic psychology, criminal profiling,
or specialized crime scene investigation. In addition to not recognizing the post-
graduation education and/or training that these specialties typically require,
they often are oblivious to the practical matters such as seniority and relevant
professional experience. Furthermore, many students are surprised to learn that
a stint as a patrol officer is a typical precursor to more specialized assignments,
such as criminal investigations (not to mention carrying a firearm and using force
when reasonably necessary). Being guided closer to reality through interactions
with knowledgeable recruiters as to the types of positions that actually exist and
are open to entry-level employees can be invaluable. Recruiters naturally cast their
general fields and specific employers in a positive light, but the realities about
entry-level opportunities can usefully ground students while simultaneously
sparking greater critical thinking about their priorities. In the process, better
informed decisionmaking can be developed. Both of these outcomes are central
to broad university educational goals associated with lifelong learning. Among
other things, students should carefully examine differences that exist between
starting salaries, shift-work arrangements, and the timing and size of raises; the
range of, and probabilities associated with, particular assignments; promotional
and supervisory opportunities; health insurance plan coverage, deductibles,
and copays; expectations for continuing education and inservice training; and
employer retirement plans and access to supplemental employee-funded options.
Learning about these factors reinforces a broad embrace of lifelong learning among
students. For employers, students who possess a general familiarity with these
matters demonstrate their abilities to probe a problem and gather information,
and this often becomes obvious during conversations at the career fair.
Over the past 7 years, the mock interview experience has helped many students
prepare for the usually stressful experience of a real panel interview punctuated
by challenging questions—which is not uncommon for law enforcement positions
at the local, state, and federal levels. There is nothing quite like sitting across from
several working professionals in uniform or other professional attire and posing
questions that cannot be completely anticipated. These realistic interviews last
around 20 minutes and conclude with approximately 10 minutes of “debriefing”
during which the panelists offer constructive criticism and practical advice. A trial
run such as this might provide a crucial experience for students whose first real
interview turns out to be with their dream employer.
A mailing list of prospective recruiters must be created and then regularly updated,
while announcement and registration forms have to be created or updated, printed,
and mailed. The mixture of public and private employers needed to attract wide
• State and local police, along with specialized federal law enforcement agencies
• Probation, parole, and/or community corrections departments (adult and
juvenile)
• Correctional institutions (adult and juvenile)
• District/prosecuting attorneys’ offices and defense attorneys (public and
private)
• Private sector loss prevention and insurance investigative services
• Private sector contract service providers
Our experience has shown that the majority of the recruiters who represent
agencies at our event come from law enforcement, followed by corrections. More
recently, private sector employers have been increasing their presence, and we
think that this trend will intensify.
Committee Composition
We strongly recommend the committee approach to planning, conducting, and
evaluating a career fair due to the shear volume of work necessary for even a
modest event. Our department’s Criminal Justice Career Day Committee (CJCDC)
is comprised of faculty members with complementary backgrounds, interests, and
abilities. Ours is nearly a committee of the whole at seven members, which likely is
a good idea for smaller departments, particularly the first time. Determining how
faculty might best contribute to the event is important. For example, one of our
committee members is the faculty advisor to our student chapter of the National
Criminal Justice Honor Society, Alpha Phi Sigma. This individual’s presence on the
committee provides direct access to student assistance for processing registration
forms and depositing fees, creating a database of recruiter needs for the event, and
mailing receipts/invoices. Another committee member is the faculty advisor to
our student chapter of the American Criminal Justice Association, Lambda Alpha
Epsilon, as well as our internship coordinator. This individual’s presence on the
committee also provides direct access to student assistance, which in this case is
directed towards updating our contact information on agencies and recruiters and
assembling each year’s mailing list. This faculty member’s internship coordination
responsibilities involve constant contact with scores of agencies around Indiana
and contiguous states. This provides specialized knowledge about current needs
and preferences and is a factor in identifying the most beneficial recipients of each
year’s career fair announcement. Several of our committee members have had
experience as law enforcement or probation officers, and this has made it easier
Scheduling
Selecting a time and date for a criminal justice career fair is more complicated
than it might appear. For one, it is important to avoid direct competition with
other major discipline-specific and large-scale university-wide career fairs hosted
in the general area. Recruiters brought this to our attention at our first career fair
because we unwittingly scheduled ours for the same week (but different day,
thankfully) as an already established one here in Indiana. Formal coordination
between institutions can be difficult, so we eventually moved ours several weeks
away so that minor year-to-year fluctuations would be unlikely to create a “this
one or that one” dilemma for recruiters.
Another consideration is strong support from the department chair and one’s
colleagues. If a career fair is a valued component of the overall educational and
preprofessional development of one’s students, then the necessary cooperative
environment likely exists for a highly anticipated, well attended, and successful
event. It is important to gain the cooperation of faculty members whose class times
overlap with the career fair, and early announcement of the date enables faculty
members to accommodate the career fair in their course plans. Although we all
bemoan not having enough contact time in courses to cover all of the material
desired, canceling one of roughly 30 to 45 class periods during a semester seems a
relatively minimal cost for being able to provide students with convenient access
to a large and motivated group of prospective employers. A faculty member who
cancels a class session once a year during the short span of the career fair—perhaps
3 hours or so—might provide the time necessary for students with tight class and/
or work schedules to participate. This form of collegial support can increase student
participation not simply because of the time it frees up, but also because the career
fair looms larger as a matter of high priority for a criminal justice department
and its students. If “covering” classroom contact time remains an issue, consider
assigning students a short response paper about their experiences at the career fair.
This can have the added benefit of generating useful insights that faculty could
pass along to the organizing committee.
A wide range of local, state, and federal departments in Indiana and from contiguous
states attend our career fair. Keeping the combination of recruiters’ commuting
and the career fair close to an 8-hour day in length will earn you their appreciation,
and with it comes greater interest in your future events. Because of travel time, the
vast majority of recruiters favor the early afternoon, and we soon settled on 12:00
to 3:00 pm. The morning is available for commuting to campus from any corner of
the state, setting up displays, and grabbing a quick lunch before the doors open.
The late afternoon and early evening remain for the trip home. (Worth noting here
is our recent experience with providing a refreshment table in a draped-off area of
the room containing small sandwiches, cheese and crackers, and some fruit and
drinks. This was instantly popular with recruiters because finding lunch could be
removed from their to-do list upon arriving.)
As for the day of the week, we prefer Wednesdays because practitioners can avoid
both the very beginning and end of their workweek. For us, this avoids the longer
Location
It is important to use an easily accessible campus building for the career fair. A
carpeted room is preferable, and it should allow for wide aisles between the tables.
Vinyl or wood floors create a terribly noisy environment and should be avoided.
Flow is important, and neither students nor recruiters want to find their access to
one another limited by physical inconveniences that the organizers should have
foreseen and, thus, prevented. Recruiter location needs thoughtful consideration,
too. For example, we distribute the local, state, and federal agencies around the
room so as to avoid concentrated pockets of police, probation, and institution-
based corrections recruiters. In this way, we spread student traffic around the
room to maximize flow, and students see a wider variety of employers as they
circulate. This reduces palpable recruiter competition for student attention, too, by
providing a modicum of privacy from one’s most direct competitors. We think that
this also improves comfort and minimizes frustration for all concerned despite the
obvious lack of true privacy. This can be important, as recruiters naturally want
a setting in which they can contrast their departments with others that are just
beyond elbow-rubbing proximity.
Inviting Recruiters
Employer participation in any given year will depend on current hiring needs,
agency budgetary considerations, and the recruiter schedule availability. Our
most consistent year-to-year participation comes from law enforcement agencies.
We work from three general sources: (1) those recruiters who recently participated,
(2) those departments and allied private sector entities that accept our students
as interns, and (3) those that learn of our career fair through word-of-mouth. All
interested entities receive a mailed invitation, but this is preceded by an “early
bird” e-mailing with PDF attachments of the announcement letter and reservation
form to those that participated the previous year. We receive prompt responses in
this fashion from the most interested recruiters.
The Fee
A $25 fee is payable to one of our student organizations that shares responsibility
for conducting the career fair. This nominal fee covers the cost of updating
our advertising banner, tablecloth rental, photocopying/printing forms, and
miscellaneous supplies (e.g., name badges and felt pens). We estimate that our
mean cost per recruiter is around $15, so the remaining $10 serves as a fundraiser
for the two student organizations. The most expensive cost is refreshments, and
the faculty currently covers this expense through a departmental fund. That the
financial benefit goes to the student organizations is clearly communicated in the
invitation letter. While we do encounter the occasional department that would
like us to waive the fee—more importantly, a few are precluded from paying for
access to our students such that we waive it on a case-by-base basis—we maintain
Student assistance has been extremely helpful, and we do not hold the opinion
that students cannot be depended upon to carry out important responsibilities
under faculty supervision. On the day of the event, student helpers handle on-site
check-in, hand out name tags to recruiters, and assist them in locating their tables.
They also help bring in and set up the displays, though this now is rare given the
collapsible, self-contained displays. An added benefit to our student helpers is
the ability to develop personal contacts with agency representatives. To promote
an overall professional appearance to our career fair, we insist that our student
helpers wear appropriate attire and are well-groomed. To clearly identify student
workers to the participating recruiters and fellow students, we provide them with
nametags that feature a “staff” ribbon identical to those worn by department
faculty members.
Methods
The Instruments
We used two instruments to evaluate our criminal justice career fair. First, recruiters
were asked to evaluate various facets of their career fair experiences and provide
related information. At least one anonymous recruiter evaluation form (n = 57)
was collected from each department during a recent career fair. As is typically the
case, the vast majority (77%) of the departments operated at the city or county level
of government. This is consistent with what many criminal justice professors share
with students in that most criminal justice services are found at the local level. The
categorical breakdown for the 33 employers represented by these recruiters was
as follows:
Findings
Recruiter Evaluation
The evaluation forms completed by recruiters indicated a uniformly high degree of
satisfaction (see Table 1). The median rating for six of the seven Likert-scaled items,
as well as the one measuring their overall experience, was “excellent.” Around two-
thirds of the recruiters provided a score of 5 for each item. Only one mean rating,
a 4.25 for “student flow/contact,” dropped below a score of 4.5. Nevertheless,
approximately one-third of the recruiters rated this item as a 5. We came to the
Student Survey
The subsample of students (n = 199; 97.5%) that provided usable surveys was
comprised of 87 (43.7%) who attended the career fair and 112 (56.3%) who did
not (see Table 2). This distribution among those who did and did not attend was
not surprising given that our program consists of over 600 undergraduate majors,
while student career fair attendance hovers around 150. Our initial interest was in
whether gender, class level, or age influenced attendance generally. Neither gender
nor age made a noteworthy difference in attending or not attending, though class
level did make a difference. This latter finding should not be surprising. Freshmen
were the least likely (20.0%) to attend. Sophomores (49.0%) and seniors (54.2%)
attended in very similar numbers, while juniors landed in between (39.1%). The
fact that seniors attended in the greatest numbers is not surprising given that they
are likely to be the most attuned to the pressures brought by the approaching
conclusion to their academic pursuits and their initial forays into the marketplace.
We separately examine the attending and nonattending groups of students below.
Class Level
Did you attend? Freshman Sophomore Junior Senior Total
Yes 5.7% 28.7% 28.7% 36.8% 100.00% (n = 87)
No 17.9 23.2 34.8 24.1 100.00% (n = 112)
Response
Strongly Strongly
Item Agree Agree Disagree Disagree Total
Printed materials were
excellent. 32.9% 61.2% 5.9% 0.0% 100.0% (n = 85)
Recruiters were easy to
approach/talk to. 33.7 51.2 14.0 1.2 100.0 (n = 86)
Recruiters were informative. 37.6 54.1 8.2 0.0 100.0 (n = 85)
Recruiters were articulate. 36.5 55.3 8.2 0.0 100.0 (n = 85)
Vendors respected you and
your interests. 40.0 52.9 7.1 0.0 100.0 (n = 85)
Response
Item Yes No Total
Federal agency made the best impression on me. 39.1% 60.9% 100.0% (n = 87)
State agency made the best impression on me. 36.8 63.2 100.0 (n = 87)
Local agency made the best impression on me. 52.9 47.1 100.0 (n = 87)
Response
Item Yes No Total
We talked about the types of positions and assignments 74.1% 25.9% 100.00%
available.
We talked about the testing and/or selection process for 65.9 34.1 100.00
becoming an employee.
We talked about starting salary. 62.4 37.6 100.00
We talked about how to submit an employment application. 47.1 52.9 100.00
We talked about work schedules and shift work. 35.3 64.7 100.00
We talked about the salary schedule after the first two years of 34.1 65.9 100.00
employment.
We talked about promotion opportunities. 34.1 65.9 100.00
We talked about retirement/pension programs. 20.0 80.0 100.00
We talked about other issues. 8.2 91.8 100.00
As for other likely topics, not quite half (47.1%) of those students who attended
the career fair reported discussing how to submit an application for employment,
something that understandably was most common among seniors (75%). There
was far less discussion about longer-term employment issues. For example, only
around one-third of attending students reported having discussed issues such
as salary schedules after the first two years of employment (34.1%). For some
unknown reason, this was most common among sophomores, not juniors and
seniors. Overall, discussion of promotion opportunities was a topic among a bit
more than one-third (34.1%) of students, while retirement/pension programs
trailed much further behind (20%). Only slightly more than one-third (35.3%) of
attendees discussed the specifics of work schedules and shift work that might
have serious consequences for their health, family commitments, recreation, and
safety.
Few students among the group that did not attend the career fair (n = 112) reported
missing it for other than class conflicts due to the time of day (35.7%) and/or work
and/or child care responsibilities (39.3%) (see Table 6). Most students appear to
have missed the career fair due to circumstances not easily mitigated and had
little, if any, connection to the quality of the event itself. The next most common
reason was simply not yet feeling ready to talk with recruiters (16.1%), while
the remaining six reasons individually attracted no more than 12.5% of student
responses. Percentages for four of these six items fell well under 10%.
Response
Item Yes No Total
I had to work/had a child to care for/or other important 39.3% 60.7% 100.00%
responsibility.
I had class at the same time as the event. 35.7 64.3 100.00
I wasn’t ready to talk with recruiters. 16.1 83.9 100.00
I don’t want to work in the criminal justice system. 11.6 88.4 100.00
I wasn’t interested in talking with recruiters about their 8.0 92.0 100.00
departments.
I didn’t know about the criminal justice career day. 7.1 92.9 100.00
I was intimidated about talking with department 6.3 93.8 100.00
representatives.
The agency list for the event didn’t appeal to me. 6.3 93.8 100.00
I did not attend because of some other reason. 12.5 87.5 100.00
On the one hand, holding a career fair demands much effort for faculty already
faced with ever-increasing expectations about scholarly productivity, excellence in
teaching, and service to the university and professional communities. On the other
hand, we find the benefits to a career fair to be compelling. A well-run criminal
justice career fair fills a crucial void within the student-focused criminal justice
department’s range of extracurricular opportunities. We firmly believe that events
along the general lines of ours can be equally successful elsewhere, so we hope that
criminal justice departments that currently do not sponsor a discipline-specific
career fair might take encouragement from our experience and decide to tackle
one. We also hope that criminal justice agencies and private sector employers
might be encouraged to approach academic departments about a career fair. While
our career fair was campus generated, the idea for the law enforcement mock
interviews came from a police department that was interested in our students as
well as willing to provide valuable career-building skills.
Altogether, we think that a discipline-specific career fair holds many benefits for
students, employers, and the faculty. For criminal justice employers, there is not a
suitable substitute for a career fair that offers convenient face-to-face conversations
with a targeted, interested, and motivated pool of potential candidates. For
students, this is an opportunity to gain important career and “market” information,
References
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Acknowledgement
The authors first thank the many public criminal justice and private sector employers
who participate in our annual fair hosted by the Department of Criminal Justice
and Criminology at Ball State University. Without their interest in our students,
there would be no career fair. We specifically extend our thanks to the students and
recruiters who attend the career fair each year and by doing so reinforce its value
for academicians and practitioners alike. Finally, we appreciate the Department’s
Criminal Justice Career Fair Committee for its efforts throughout the year, as well
as our faculty colleagues, staff members, and student organizations whose support
figures prominently in this routinely successful event.
Introduction
The purpose of this article is fourfold: (1) to emphasize the role of community
policing as an important faction of society, (2) to examine officers’ perceptions of
their personal safety while performing their daily job/tasks, (3) to explore how
the perceptions of the officers perceivably affect their ability to be effective and
efficient while performing their jobs, and (4) to examine the extent of officer tragedy
taking place in American society. We propose a model that will assist agencies
in providing optimal training that could serve to make officers feel safer while
performing commendable work. Community policing is defined by Meese (1994)
and Moore & Trojanowicz (1988) as the use of sophisticated investigative problem-
solving techniques while interacting cooperatively with community institutions
such as families, schools, neighborhood associations, merchant groups, and
social service agencies to create safe secure communities. Although the primary
responsibility of officers is to serve, protect, and create a safe community, Clarke
and Zak (1999) suggested that in every community in the United States, law
enforcement personnel and firefighters regularly put their lives in harm’s way to
protect the public. The authors went on to suggest that the risk of a fatal incident
for law enforcement personnel and firefighters is three times greater than for all
other workers. Although we are intrigued with officer/community interaction(s),
this work focuses primarily on police safety.
The issue of “police safety” is synonymous with the term officer survival. Law
enforcement agencies, officers, and trainers have been looking for ways to enhance
the skill levels with limited budget and time constraints. This complex problem is
dependent on more than just training. This literature review examines the issues
associated with police safety.
Literature Review
During basic police recruit training, every officer develops an understanding
and foundation of “police/suspect violence.” It is also the place where recruits
develop the necessary skills, which are considered minimal, to control a threat. The
foundation of that training can be found in what is classified under the umbrella
of “high liability training.” These areas are classified as such because this is where
officers and agencies are mostly to be involved in litigation. High liability is an
area in which mistakes can be made and cause serious injury and/or death to
unintended bystanders.
To understand a need for advanced and continued training above and beyond
that of the police academy, one need only look at The FBI Uniform Crime Report:
Officers Killed and Assaulted 2005. This document is an annual document that
details who, what, when, where, and how officers are killed and/or assaulted. An
examination of the 2005 statistics offers the following data: 55 officers killed with a
profile of the victim officers as white males, average age 37, and 10 years of service.
The most common situations in which these officers were killed include traffic
stops or pursuits, making an arrest, ambush, disturbance calls, and investigating
suspicious persons. The most dangerous assignment was uniform patrol, and the
most common weapon used to murder an officer was a handgun. The deadliest
months were August and November; the deadliest day of the week was Thursday;
and the deadliest hours were between 10:01 pm and 12:00 am. Finally, the profile of
the suspects was as follows: white male, average age 30, height 5’10”, 175 pounds.
From 1996 through 2005, the numbers are fairly consistent. The number of officers
killed varies, but the circumstances surrounding their deaths, as well as the victim
officers’ average age, race, and years of service have remained consistent over
time.
Petrocelli (2006) identifies what are known as the 10 deadly errors of policing.
These errors are nothing new, as they were identified some 30 years ago by
Detective Pierce Brooks of the Los Angeles Police Department and have remained
a constant today:
If you examine the Ten Deadly Errors closely, it is clear that most are associated
with mental errors. Remsberg (1986) supports this with the following statement:
“Your mind is the most dangerous weapon you carry on patrol” (p. 16). When it
comes to officer safety, officers are their own worst enemy and feel a sense of false
security and entitlement. Thomas (2006) examined the development of fitness
standards for inservice law enforcement personnel and noted the following:
In fact, officers have made the following statements regarding training and the
implementation of new initiatives (Thomas, 2006):
“I’ve been doing this job for 20 years, and I can tell you that training isn’t
important.”
“I am a detective and work inside, and no one is going to attack me.” (p. 14)
The one aspect of this complex puzzle that has not been discussed is the loss of
learning without repetition. In essence, certain skills are lost because they are
not utilized. The recruit who graduates from the academy is indoctrinated with
patrol tactics and is eager to apply all of the skills that he or she has learned in the
academy. As an officer gets older, however, his or her duties become routine much
like the assembly line worker, and therein lies the danger—apathy. The Florida
Department of Law Enforcement (1997) explains skill deterioration or loss of
learning without repetition in the following manner: we lose 42% of what we have
learned in 30 minutes; 56% in an hour; 64% in 8 hours; and 75% in a week (p. 7.8).
Methodology
A qualitative research method was used to analyze the nature and contextual
experiences of law enforcement officers who had received training at their agency
or at least at an academy that certified them in the area of law enforcement. A
qualitative method was used in order to provide a rich description of law
enforcement officers’ experiences and their training. Bogdan and Biklen (1992)
defined qualitative research as being “rich in description of people, places, and
conversation, which are not easily handled by statistical procedures,” stating that
“qualitative researchers are concerned with understanding behavior/experiences
from the subject’s own frame of reference” (p. 2). Consequently, analyzing the
training and experiences of the law enforcement officers is more easily understood
utilizing qualitative research because this approach permits the in-depth
exploration of the experiences of a group of people in their own voices.
Participant Selection
The population studied consisted of 90 law enforcement officers who had received
training in the area of law enforcement and 4 training supervisors who led the
training department at each participating agency. The officers represented four
different law enforcement agencies in Florida. Surveys were distributed to officers
through the training office. Once the surveys were completed, they were retrieved
from the respective training officers.
Each of the potential participants was briefed by the training officers and told the
purpose of the survey. After explaining the survey, the officers were given time to
complete the survey. The participants were encouraged by both the researchers
and the training officers to be as candid as possible and told that the information
gathered from the surveys would be used to analyze and critique the existing
training program at the respective agencies. The primary method of gathering
data for this study was through open-ended questions on a survey instrument and
a program analysis based on interviews with the training officers/supervisors.
The program analysis consisted of reviewing initiatives/programs geared at law
enforcement safety and having conversation with training officers about their
respective training departments.
As interviews progressed with the training officers, probes were used to encourage
the officers to illustrate their reflections with specific examples and experiences.
Tangential topics and questions evolved, however, and the investigators pursued
what Spindler and Spindler (1992) refer to as a flexible format, encouraging the
interviewee to speak freely about concerns and, in the process, answering questions
that had not been asked.
The interviews usually lasted about 30 minutes, although some of them were
longer. Notes were taken during the interviews and later served as a means for
data analysis.
Data Analysis
There is a unique relationship between the data and its analysis in a qualitative
study. As the data is collected, “units” emerge that suggest further data needs
to be collected. Categories of information may also emerge. Typically, the data
is coded according to these categories and analyzed to explore meaning and
interrelationships (Bogdan & Biklen, 1992).
As we analyzed the surveys and reviewed the notes from the interviews, similar
terms, phrases, and experiences emerged. The terms, phrases, and experiences
were carefully examined, resulting in the development of two key experience
areas: (1) social and (2) intellectual. The experience allowed us to gain a sense
of the participants’ situational perspective. Within the social arena, there are
the experiences of the officers interacting with the community, especially the
combative. The intellectual arena includes such experiences as knowledge (the
training process), perception, and reflection.
Significant Concern
One theme that emerged from the study that stood out more than any other was the
concern that the officers expressed in regards to their interaction with the seriously
mentally ill population. The majority of the officers agreed that responses for
assistance with seriously mentally ill (SMI) persons could change quickly from a
routine call to one that could become either dangerous or life-threatening. The officers
attributed this fact to their lack of training as well as their lack of understanding
about the SMI persons. Eighty-four of the 90 officers (93%) voiced concerns about
the relationship that their department had with social service, especially mental
health agencies. Officers reported a great divide in the agencies knowing the full
range of duties by law enforcement agencies and law enforcement knowing the
full responsibilities of the social service agencies. The officers suggested that there
is still a great deal of stereotypes present in regards to what these different entities
Furthermore, the officers also suggested that more emphasis should be given
to improving human relations skills because the ability to listen to people and
respond in a sensitive manner is essential to good police work. Lastly, the officers
suggested that mental health professionals become part of the training process of
law enforcement. The officers advocated a seamless system that would provide
opportunities for social service professionals and law enforcement officers to
become knowledgeable about the services provided by each agency as members
of the same team, not competitors.
General Themes
• On a scale of 1 to 10 with 10 being the safest, the officers were asked how
safe they felt while performing their job. The mode score was 7; the average
score (mean) was 6.5; and the median was 8. This basically tells the reader that
for the most part, officers are feeling somewhat unsafe while performing their
daily duties/tasks. As gleaned from the literature review, this unsafe feeling
can have devastating consequences.
• When asked to what degree officers thought that their agency valued safety,
52 of the officers said “very much,” 30 said “somewhat,” and 8 said “very
little.” This helps the reader appreciate the fact that most of the officers at least
acknowledge that their agency values safety. Perhaps this perception allows
the officer to feel valued by the agency.
• When asked whether or not their respective academies spent adequate time
on officer safety, the majority of the officers answered “no.” These officers
suggested that more time should have been devoted to more realistic
scenarios. These officers also suggested that there should have been less time
in the classroom and more time spent analyzing and responding to realistic
scenarios. Another point that was highlighted by these respondents was the
perceived need for more refresher sessions and mandatory inservice training
involving officer safety. The overall theme for this question was, “too little, too
fast.”
• The officers were also asked to relate which aspect of their job made them
feel the safest: 33% suggested that adequate back-up them feel the safest while
another 33% suggested that sufficient training made them feel the safest, 20%
identified proper equipment, and the other 14% were divided into areas such
as time off, vacation, and experience.
• When asked how many officers they knew who were injured over the last
year in the line of duty, and how they were personally affected, the officers, on
average, knew of six other officers who were injured over the past year. These
were accounts within the officers’ own agencies and not knowledge gained from
the mass media. As for how the officers were affected, the majority suggested
that the incidents caused them to be more cautious as well as more aware of
the need for more training in different areas. Again, most of the dialogue was
about policing the SMI population.
• When asked how concerned they were about personal safety when they
applied for the position, interestingly enough, there was a split between two
answers. Approximately half of the officers shared that they were “somewhat
concerned,” and the other half suggested that they were “very concerned.” The
other two possible answers were “not concerned” and “concerned.” None of
the officers chose those responses.
After considering the findings of the study, we offer the following model as a
workable, systems approach to law enforcement personal safety training.
In addition to the academy training, all officers will be required to attend refresher
courses on an annual basis. This training will be offered as inservice training
conducted by a trained mental health professional.
The crisis team would consist of trained law enforcement officers as well as social
service personnel who would be housed at the agency. The crisis team would be
on call 24 hours a day in order to assist officers who need crisis intervention.
Both agencies would get the public involved by offering workshops and seminars
(free of charge) to the community and prepare pamphlets and brochures that
would be given to citizens who have mentally ill family members and/or friends.
The literature would explain the process of dealing with the mentally ill and list
numbers for assistance. It is believed that the above effort would help gain the
trust of the citizenry.
Consequently, we suggest that the above model could improve the training of law
enforcement officers who are spending a significant amount of time engaged in
community policing with SMI persons.
As for the BARTH model in general, it can be implemented in the following manner:
B. Beware of officer apathy: This step addresses the issue of being lax and careless.
As was shown in the literature review, apathy decreases the officers’ personal
safety by allowing the officer to perform risky behaviors and/or become less
safety conscious.
A. Allow the officers to be a part of the training curriculum. One point that was
noted from this study was that the officers wanted to have a say on the subject
matter that would be offered by the agency. This gave way to having a special
section on the area of mental illness.
R. Realism in training: The offers suggested that the training department should
duplicate real-life incidents in which the officers had been exposed, thus
allowing for each officer to learn from the experience(s). The majority of the
officers expressed that they lacked realistic training.
T. Tactics: The goal should be to maintain a high proficiency in tactical skills
by providing the most up-to-date skill sets in the profession. This can be
accomplished by the training officer(s) being aware of the most current trends
in the law enforcement field.
H. Hone and refine the skills, thus allowing for the skills to become second nature.
This can be accomplished by offering refresher courses on an ongoing/regular
basis.
The researchers feel that if the BARTH model is implemented, more agencies will
be able to meet the training needs of its officers. It is the belief that most of the tools
and/or resources that are needed in order to implement the model are currently in
place at most agencies. It becomes a matter of grouping and streamlining resources.
The researchers cannot stress enough the importance of allowing the officers to be
a part of designing and implementing the BARTH model. The agency supervisor
will find the officers’ insight to be invaluable.
Based on the findings that have been shared in this article, it is clear that what is
necessary for officers is meaningful training to address the issues associated with
apathy and routine to keep the officers sharp. This issue needs to be addressed more
fervently as the officers get older and look at the job as routine, understanding that
safety is essential to their survival. Another important aspect of the study was the
call by the officers to be more involved in the development of their training. The
researchers have provided a model that would accommodate such a request.
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Petrocelli, J. (2006). Preventing the 10 deadly errors: 30 years later. FBI Law
Enforcement Bulletin, 75, 10-20.
Spindler, G., & Spindler, L. (1992). The handbook of qualitative research in education.
San Diego, CA: Academic Press.
Strauss, A. L. (1987). Qualitative analysis for social scientists. New York: Cambridge
University.
Tony A. Barringer, EdD, currently serves as the associate dean in the College
of Professional Studies at Florida Gulf Coast University. Dr. Barringer also
chairs the Division of Justice Studies and has over 18 years of experience in
the criminal justice field. Dr. Barringer welcomes collaboration on research
projects and has varied interests. Dr. Barringer also serves as director of a
community project that pairs mentors with at-risk youth. The program has
existed for over 5 years and is federally funded.
The primary job of the patrol officer is to answer 911 and 311 calls for service. The
problem of misuse and abuse of 911 has been broken down into unintentional calls,
misdials, hang-up calls, and prank calls (Sampson, 2004). This article examines all
dispatched police calls for a period of one year in Baltimore’s Eastern District. While
the Eastern District is by no means a typical police district—98% African American
with high levels of poverty, drugs, crime, and blight—it provides a snapshot into the
world of 911 and rapid response. This study combines a quantitative analysis of 911
and 311 calls for police service with a qualitative analysis of the worthiness of these
calls and the effectiveness, if any, of police response. I served as a uniformed police
officer in the district for the period of the research.
Police departments are committed to responding to every citizen’s call for police
service. More than any tactical strategy or mandate from the police administration,
citizens’ telephone calls control the majority of police services. The emphasis on radio
calls means that in busy districts, officers can do little other than answer dispatched
calls for service. A system allowing all citizens unlimited and equal access to police
services, is, at its core, very democratic. The reality, however, is anything but. Police
service is not unlimited. Access must inevitably be controlled. Police respond to
the most overt manifestation of a problem or to the location at which one citizen,
justified or not, demands repeated police presence (Force, 1972).
Those who viewed police as provocative and hostile to the public applauded
reduced police presence and discretion. Controlled by the central dispatch, police
Car patrol eliminated the neighborhood police officer. Police were pulled off
neighborhood beats to fill cars. Levels of motorized patrol—the cornerstone of
urban policing—have no effect on crime rates, victimization, or public satisfaction
(Kelling, Pate, Diekman, & Brown, 1974). Lawrence Sherman (1983) was an early
critic of telephone dispatch and motorized patrol: “The rise of telephone dispatch
transformed both the method and purpose of patrol. Instead of watching to prevent
crime, motorized police patrol became a process of merely waiting to respond to
crime” (p. 149).
A quick response time became an end in itself rather than a means to crime prevention.
In order to respond quickly, police must be available to receive dispatched calls. Police
are pressured to be “in service” as much as possible. Parked alone in the middle of
an empty parking lot—the ominous police car and the long walk discourage pesky
citizens from approaching—a police officer is considered “in service.” When dealing
with people—the essence of the job, some might argue—police are considered “out
of service.” David Bayley (1994) explains this police prime directive:
Because patrol officers spend most of their workday sitting in a police car or driving
around, officers develop a car-centered method of policing their post. Officers learn
most of their knowledge of an area through the window of a patrol car. Even in an
area where most crime occurs on the sidewalk and most residents do not own a
car (much less drive to work), officers are more attuned to pot holes and stoplight
timing than to street crime and quality-of-life issues. The high volume and low
content of 911 calls further discourage any routine nonconfrontational interactions
between the police and the public.
The theory behind car patrol, still taught in today’s police academies and criminal justice
textbooks, is known as the “three Rs.” The first R is “random patrol”: police driving in
nonfixed patterns to create the illusion of police “omnipresence.” This stands in direct
contrast to the older idea of police walking in a fixed and regular beat. As Professor Carl
Klockars (1983) memorably wrote, “It makes about as much sense to have police patrol
routinely in cars to fight crime as it does to have firemen patrol routinely in firetrucks
to fight fire” (p. 130). Gary Cordner and Robert Trojanowicz (1992) summarized the
widely cited Kansas City Preventive Patrol Experiment (Kelling et al., 1974):
During 1972 and 1973, a year-long experiment was conducted in Kansas City,
Missouri, to test the effects of preventive patrol. . . . Fifteen patrol beats were
included in the study: five were control beats with normal levels of preventive
In debunking random patrol and omnipresence, the Kansas City study cast doubt
on the previously unquestioned faith in motorized random patrol as an effective
and essential means of policing. The impact of the Kansas City Report, however,
despite being one of the most heralded scientific police studies, was negligible.
The second of the three Rs is “rapid response,” the theory that a quick police
response to the scene of a crime will result in the greater apprehension of criminals.
For fire trucks and ambulances, the benefit of rapid response is obvious: quick
response saves lives. Rapid police response is not designed to prevent crime,
however, and its failure to do so should come as no surprise. Though it may seem
counterintuitive, rapid police response does not prevent crime and has almost
no effect on the odds that a criminal will be caught. Even instantaneous police
response would be ineffective, as the vast majority of the time, most 911 callers—
whether by necessity, choice, or confusion—wait until a suspect is gone before
reporting a crime (Kelling & Coles, 1996; Spelman & Brown, 1981).
But it is pointless to blame the victim. Even if victims were to respond “correctly” or
a third party calls police while a crime is in progress, dispatch takes time. If police
do not arrive within one minute of a crime, rapid police response has virtually no
effect (Bieck & Kessler, 1977; Spelman & Brown, 1981; Tien, Simon, & Larson, 1978).
The 911 operator must answer the call, gather the relevant information, and enter
it into a computer. This information is then sent to the relevant police dispatcher.
The dispatcher then finds time to dispatch the call to a police officer. More often
than not, even if police just happen to be in the right place at the right time, callers
have been waiting for 5, 10, even 20 minutes.
The illusion of omnipresence and rapid response is usually shattered the moment
one calls with a need for police service, yet despite its basic failure, reactive car-
based policing is popular on many levels. Radio cars provide a means to account
for and control officers; police officers like being sheltered from the street in the
comparative comfort of a car; and police administrators generally find it easier to
focus on response time than crime prevention.
The third of the three Rs is “reactive investigation,” the effective working of the
criminal justice system to “solve” crimes and provide deterrence against future
crimes. While investigation is rightfully a key part of police work in solving crimes,
the public’s beliefs in these techniques is hugely inflated. The O.J. Simpson trial
raised the bar too high for the preservation of chaotic crime scenes, and TV shows,
most notably CSI: Crime Scene Investigation, portray a faith in technology that, when
not absolute fiction, is science-fiction for most police departments. Crimes get
solved because people talk. Call them rats, finks, stoolies, confidential informants,
cooperating witnesses, or good citizens; it’s the good old-fashioned snitch that
Calls for service have been categorized into three basic categories: (1) requiring a
written report and relate to a crime (26% of dispatched calls), (2) resulting in some
police service, even if very limited in scope (35% of calls), and (3) unnecessary or
illegitimate calls, receiving but not needing any police response (40% of all calls).
As coded by responding officers, 39% of calls have no need for police response.
An additional one-third of calls are minor matters, not needing rapid response.
Just over a quarter of calls involve a crime or require a written report. Drug calls
account for one-fourth of all dispatched calls. Citywide, excluding the Eastern
District, drug calls account for approximately 7.5% of all calls.
A written police report serves as a proxy measure for a “legitimate” call. Any call
involving a crime, victim, injured person, or property damage results in a written
report. Legitimate calls can be major or minor. Examples include a stolen car, a
fire in a vacant building, a person shot, an arrest for drug possession, a window
broken by a thrown rock, or a man who hits his girlfriend. As an indicator for a
legitimate call, written reports tend to overestimate the percentage of legitimate
calls because of the inclusion of all “domestic-related” calls.
Four dispatched calls illustrate the concept of an “illegitimate” domestic call. All
of these calls require a written report but lack a crime, victim, injury, or damage.
• A worried man calls police to report that his girlfriend has not yet returned
home from work. Police receive a call for a domestic-related missing person.
• A woman calls police because she believes her baby’s father stole her house
keys. Police receive a call for domestic-related theft. When police arrive, the
woman apologizes because she has found the misplaced keys.
• A resident calls police and reports that a man and his girlfriend are yelling in the
street. Police respond to find two people, casual friends, loudly planning when
they will see each other next.
Illegitimate domestic calls are responsible for increasing the number of written
reports and thus overestimate the number of “legitimate” calls as defined by
a written report. Given the limitations of available data, I could not analyze
domestic calls separately. Approximately one-third to one-half of all written
reports are domestic-related, and a majority of domestic calls—in a ratio similar to
nondomestic calls—are unfounded.
The bias of using written reports as a proxy measure for legitimate calls is not
entirely one way. There is not a written report for every required call. Police officers
do not like writing reports and will avoid doing so if at all possible. The number of
required reports that are not filed, however, is not a large percentage of all reports.
An officer cannot get in trouble for writing an unnecessary report, and officers who
do not write a required report risk severe trouble. Reports are written for some
unfounded calls in order to protect the officer from accusations of mishandling a
call. Outside of the time required to write most reports—five minutes to half an
hour depending on the report—there is little downside to writing a report.
Before the 911 system was introduced, citizens in need of police service found
a police officer or called the local police station. All calls for service required a
written report. After 911 was introduced, requests for police service skyrocketed,
and police were overwhelmed by report writing. The system was changed so that
today only arrests, crimes with victims, and domestic-related incidents require
written reports. If no report is required, officers may “close” a call with one of
six “oral codes”: (1) call unfounded, (2) unable to locate complainant, (3) no such
address, (4) no police services needed, (5) suspect gone on arrival, and (6) call
abated.
Thirty-five percent of calls are coded “abated,” a catch-all oral code that implies
some need for or effect from police services, however minor. While there is not a
great deal of significance as to which oral code a call receives, calls coded “abated”
may, as in the case of drug dealing, involve a victimless crime but usually, as in
an auto accident, do not involve a crime. Some minor crimes without personal
• A strong wind opens a store’s poorly secured rear door, setting off a burglar
alarm. There is no sign of forced entry, and a search of the building shows no
person present nor any sign of stolen or damaged property. The responding
officer closes the door securely.
• Two cars collide with damage but no injuries. In Baltimore, only accidents with
injury or involving city vehicles require written reports. The majority of “abated”
car accidents are legitimate in that cars did crash, but there is little police can do
other than direct traffic and facilitate the exchange of drivers’ information. To
the frustration of insurance companies, no police report is written.
• An assault call reveals two friends engaged in a loud public discussion. The
men apologize for their noise and go home.
• A man claims he was robbed. Investigation reveals the man to be a drug addict
who freely gave ten dollars for drugs but received nothing in return. This call
could be handled in many ways (including the arrest of the addict), but most
likely the complainant would be dismissed and the call coded “abated.”
• A caller states that boys on a neighboring stoop are selling drugs. When a police
officer approaches, three young men on the stoop disperse.
• A call for a family disturbance reveals a 17-year-old man sitting on the stoop.
He says he called the police because his mom locked him out and he wants to
go back inside. His mother, inside the home, says she kicked him out because
he’s out of control and disrespectful and called her a “bitch.” The son is given a
stern lecture, but the mother is told in private that she can’t kick her son out of
the house until he turns 18.
Based on the broad range in the “abated” category, it is not possible to dichotomize
these calls as either legitimate or undeserving of police response. A majority of
“abated” calls are minor but legitimate in that police perform some function
or service, even if this service could come from agencies other than the police.
“Abated” calls are grouped in their own middle-ground category of “some
police service” required, however minor. One-third of dispatched calls fall in this
category.
Along with all calls coded “abated,” the oral code “suspect gone on arrival”
indicates “some police service” for drug calls, armed person calls, and disorderly
calls (see the “Calls for Service” table). While including all these calls as legitimate
overestimates the legitimacy of these categories, it acknowledges that many calls
are irrelevant by the time police arrive but were legitimate when they were first
made. Gunshot calls coded “no police services needed” are also included in this
category. By custom, the oral code for gun discharge refers to the presence of a
victim rather than the existence of gunshots. If a gunshot victim is found, the call
is reclassified as an “assault by shooting,” and a report is written. Most calls for
gunshots do, in fact, reflect actual gunshots. The remainder are prank calls or loud
firecrackers.
Something we shouldn’t be there for. “Bullshit” is people call police, but then
get mad that you show up. Or when you show up, and they make shit up.
Bullshit is any junkie who wastes my time because they got burnt [ripped-off
on a drug deal] and say, “I was robbed.” Or some bitch who don’t get paid and
says, “I was raped!” Everything out here is bullshit. Half the CDS [drug] calls
are bullshit . . . What can we do about it? People want their rights. People
here just want their drugs, their “hair-ron” [heroin], some malt liquor, and
a “little some’m’ some’m’” [something something, i.e., sex]. We just get in the
way.
While all unfounded calls are considered “bullshit,” not all “bullshit” calls are
unfounded. Legitimate but minor calls most often achieve their bovine descriptive
because of an uncooperative victim or the inability of the officer to “do anything.”
Many victims of even violent crime are uncooperative with police due to fear of
or friendship with the suspect. Other victims simply—and sometimes wisely, if
they are wanted—choose to avoid interaction with an ineffective criminal justice
system. It is not unusual for crime victims to be uncooperative and, for example,
not even reveal their name.
Illegitimate calls stem from a variety of sources. A large percentage of calls are
simply fictitious: people use 911 to harass enemies, draw police away from an
area, and make prank phone calls. Calls that require no police response include a
complainant who cannot be located; a location that does not exist; a call reporting
that an unarmed stranger at a bus stop is armed; a burglary at a location at which
there is no building; a false report of a man shot; and a person, usually a child,
who dials 911 and hangs up. As a category, 90% of these “911 hangups”—6% of all
dispatched calls—are unfounded.
In general, officers can determine the validity of a call from the sparse information
given by the dispatcher. One officer said, . . .
Drug Calls
Drug calls, usually anonymous, don’t help police officers. Police already know the
hot drug corners:
What’s the point of telling us there’s CDS [drugs] on 700 Port, or Madeira and
Chase, or Wolfe and Eager? No shit. Either you let us jack everybody up [stop
and search people on the street], lock everybody up just for being there, or you
live with it.
We’re not going to stop drug dealing. Look at all the junkies around. They’re
gonna buy! But people call 911 and we drive by. Ninety percent of this job
is clearing corners, harassing junkies, and paperwork. What’s left? I got to
eat lunch and take a dump, too. How much worse would the city be if I just
turned off the radio and did my job? I guarantee you I could do a better job if
it weren’t for [the dispatcher] always shouting in my ear.
We can’t get shit done because call are always coming in. How many are
really “in progress”? Five percent? How many are innocent victims? None.
As police must appear at each call request, the quality of these responses plummets
as the quantity increases. Temporary dispersal of drug suspects is usually the best
that can be achieved.
In part because of police officers’ inability to solve the drug problem, however,
officers generally welcome drug calls as “easy calls.” Drug calls are less likely to
require a written report than other calls, and as most drug calls are anonymous,
there is no victim or complainant to placate. There is a modus operandi to police
response to an active drug corner. When a police car approaches, drug activity
stops and people—dealers, friends, addicts, lookouts, and any “innocents” who
When a police officer approaches a group of suspected or known dealers, the officer
will slow his or her car down in front of the individuals. This tells the suspects
that the officer is there for them and not just passing through on the way to other
business. If a group of suspects does not disperse when an officer “rolls up,” the
officer will stop the car and look at the group. The mutual stare, known to police as
“eye fucking,” serves a dual purpose: the police officer scans for contraband and
weapons but also declares his or her dominance over the turf. Police officers assert
their right to control public space. Every drug call to which police respond—indeed
all police dealings with criminal or social misbehavior—will result in a suspect’s
arrest, departure, or deference, but usually there is little long-term impact.
A drug call can be resolved in a few seconds or, with surveillance and investigation,
can take upwards of an hour. Such a range gives patrol officers the ability to “sit
on the call,” remain “out of service,” and not receive other dispatched calls. With
this block of time, officers may finish paperwork, go to the bathroom, eat an
uninterrupted lunch, or avoiding answering “bad” calls for another officer who
is also trying to avoid taking calls. “Bad” calls, such as suspected child abuse or
DOA (dead body), involve more time commitment, paperwork, or unforgettably
horrible smells. When “sitting on a call,” conscientious officers will come back “in
service” for any call on their post, an ideal, believed to be disappearing, known
as “post integrity.” If no officer is “in service” (available to answer calls), the
dispatcher may assign the call to their sergeant. This is a sure way to get officers
back “in service” because sergeants are not supposed to answer calls for service.
Discussion
This study quantifies the level and misuse of police resources in the majority
of dispatched calls for service. More than half of all dispatched calls for police
service are fictitious, involve no crime, or peacefully resolve themselves before
police arrive. In Baltimore’s Eastern District, the majority of 911 calls are for drug
dealing, prank calls, and noncrime-related calls. The fact that drug dealing persists
is perhaps the best example of the failure of police patrol based on rapid response.
The high call volume of dispatched calls virtually precludes any form of patrol
focused on crime prevention.
The impact of rapid response goes beyond the single quantifiable misuse of police
resources. During slow periods, the possibility of receiving a dispatched call
prevents officers from doing foot patrol, in-depth investigations, or any activity
that may cause an officer to stray too far from the patrol car and the false promise
of rapid response. Formally, police officers have no discretion over the calls to
which they must respond. Informally, officers go through great effort to control
their time and labor. In a throwback to old days when the dispatcher placed index
cards in a police officer’s box, officers ask for backed-up calls on their post to be
Police isolated in squad cars will not know the community. An officer with over 30
years of experience talked about the greater knowledge he had before patrol was
car-based and dispatch-controlled:
Back in the old days [the late 1960s and 1970s], there was such a thing as post
integrity. You were out there walking around and people knew you. Things
were different. You [police] could get away with anything . . . But that’s just
the way things were. We had a lot of fun. But we also knew what was going
on. People talked to us and trusted us. Well, some of them.
There is an inherent conflict between rapid response and knowing the community.
There are not enough patrol resources to emphasize both rapid response and
an alternative to a reactive, car-based patrol. The public that most needs police
protection is already aware of the failure of 911 and police response; the rest of
the public—the more influential and prominent citizens that generally defend the
status quo and do not call for the police—need to be “unsold” on the necessity and
inevitability of the reactive patrol.
Even with fewer cars and a de-emphasis of rapid response, police officers would
better respond to all citizens’ needs. Free from the tyranny of dispatch, officers
could focus on quality rather than quantity of response. A better system would
require police dispatchers or police officers to exercise professional judgment
and separate legitimate from illegitimate calls for police service. Such a system
would need to affirm current legal protection for good-faith police errors. Freeing
these police resources would make rapid response more consistent and reliable for
the very rare serious crime in progress. By not promising (and usually failing to
deliver) rapid response to all calls, patrol officers could be free to focus on crime-
enabling problems and community concerns on their post.
Such a system would not be perfect, but it could be demonstrably better than the
status quo. It could be tested in an area as small as one sector covered by the dozen
or so police officers under the command of one sergeant. Experienced patrol officers
would respond to all calls on their post. These officers would be free to walk their
beat and use their discretion to solve local criminal problems. Nonemergency
calls could be kept on an appointment basis. These officers, perhaps ironically,
would still need access to rapid police response for backup. Inexperienced and
lazy officers could be placed in patrol cars to learn the ropes, respond to legitimate
emergency calls in progress, and provide officer back-up.
No police officer is ever promoted to beat cop. Foot patrol is most often a form of
punishment. While the public generally favors increased foot patrol, the opposition
to foot patrol in the police organization is strong. A car is comfortable; your feet
don’t get tired; you can listen to the radio; you can talk to your partner in private;
you stay warm and dry; and it’s easier to avoid problem people until after they
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Introduction
Private security is one of the largest industries in the United States and shares
many of the same missions as public law enforcement, including protection of
property and crime prevention. The private security industry is almost triple the
size of public law enforcement in terms of the number of officers employed (Joh,
2004). While employment in private security was on the rise prior to September
11, 2001, since the terrorist attacks on the Pentagon and the World Trade Center
(WTC), increased focus has been given to private security as part of the first line of
defense against future terrorist attacks.
Much of the capability for prevention, crisis response, and crisis management
lies in private hands. . . . And many of the targets of terrorist attacks may
be privately owned—banks, businesses, suppliers of transportation and
communications infrastructure, shopping malls, and major building . . . like
the World Trade Center in NYC. The first person to discover an actual attack
against the homeland is likely to be a private security guard. (McIntyre, 2006,
paragraph 23)
Indeed, the first responders to the attacks on the WTC were private security
staff of the WTC and surrounding buildings, who helped to save thousands of
people before the towers collapsed (Hall, 2003; Morabito & Greenberg, 2005). In
its final report, the 9/11 Commission (2004) recommended private preparedness
as a means of protecting against and preparing for another terrorist attack: “ . . .
unless a terrorist’s target is a military or other secure government facility, the ‘first’
responders will almost certainly be civilians. Homeland security and national
preparedness, therefore, often begins with the private sector” (9/11 Commission,
2004, p. 398).
Research conducted prior to September 11, 2001, indicated that the relationship
between private security professionals and law enforcement personnel could
most aptly be described as a lack of mutual respect between the two groups, with
neither group reporting high levels of trust or cooperation with the other (Calder,
1980; Nalla & Hummer, 1999). Putatively, there have been many changes to law
enforcement and private security since the 9/11 terrorist attacks. It is possible
that the perceptions of each group towards the other might have changed due to
appeals for increased cooperation between the groups since the start of the war on
While there has been increased attention to cooperation between private security
and public police since 9/11, this attention is nothing new. During the 1970s,
the Law Enforcement Assistance Administration (LEAA) chartered the Private
Security Advisory Council “to improve the crime prevention capabilities of
private security and reduce crime in public and private places by reviewing
the relationship between private security systems and public law enforcement
agencies, and by developing programs and policies regarding private protection
services that are appropriate and consistent with the public interest” (Private
Security Advisory Council to the LEAA, 1977, p. ii). The Advisory Council to the
LEAA published reports on the regulation of security services, crime prevention,
ethics for security managers, prevention of terrorism, legal authority of security
employees, and training curriculum. One of these reports outlined guidelines for
the establishment of advisory councils at the state level. The report concluded,
“Law enforcement must learn to respect and utilize the role of private security
in crime prevention and reduction, and private security must be willing to earn
that respect by substantially upgrading the quality of its personnel and services
. . . councils can meet this challenge by providing a mechanism to combine the
resources of private security and law enforcement” (Private Security Advisory
The Private Security Council to the LEAA is not the only group to highlight these
conflicts. A 1971 study by the Rand Corporation had previously outlined the same
issues as the Private Security Council did a few years later. Kakalik and Wildhorn
(1972) stated that “there should be a predetermined, clear-cut policy for public/
private police interaction” (p. 22). In 1977, the National Advisory Committee
of Criminal Justice Standards and Goals formed a task force to examine private
security. Their report called for improvement in the relationship between law
enforcement and private security. “Effective interaction between the private
security industry and law enforcement agencies is imperative for successful crime
prevention and depends to a large extent on published clear and understandable
policies developed by their administrators” (National Advisory Committee on
Criminal Justice Standards and Goals: Task Force on Private Security, 1977, p. 205).
The first Hallcrest report in 1985 showed that there was a mutual lack of respect
between law enforcement and private security, with law enforcement officers and
administrators rating private security as only somewhat effective. In addition,
both administrators and officers viewed private security as a “junior or silent
partner” rather than an equal in crime control and prevention (Cunningham &
Taylor, 1985, p. 189). To be fair, it is not only law enforcement personnel that tend to
view private security in this manner, with terms like “rent-a-cops” being common
descriptors of private security personnel (Greene & Seamon, 1995, p. 5). Private
security is viewed by both the general public and law enforcement to be less
trained, less confident, and less professional than their respective law enforcement
counterparts. This perceived lack of training on the part of private security leads to
a general conception that private security personnel are less adequate in handling
a situation as compared to law enforcement. Certainly, there are still concerns over
the training, or lack thereof, of private security personnel. According to the Service
Employees International Union (SEIU) (2006), there are no federal regulations of
the industry, and 31 states require no training for private security personnel. In
addition, 21 states do not require private security officers to be licensed, and in
16 states, criminal background checks are not required for employment in private
security. Mangan and Shanahan (1990) point out that the perception of private
security as lacking in training has served to make cooperation between law
enforcement and private security less likely.
This is not to say that there is a complete lack of cooperation between these two
entities. The Hallcrest Report II emphasizes that cooperation between private
security and law enforcement has improved, including state and federal sponsored
partnerships as well as more local partnerships between law enforcement and
private security. Mangan and Shanahan (1990) note that on two occasions there
were summits held by the boards of the American Society for Industrial Security,
the State Association of Chiefs of Police, and the National Institute of Justice. In
addition, due to the increasingly national and international nature of security, the
Cooperative efforts also include partnerships at the local level. The Bureau
of Justice Statistics (1999) published a document called Operation Cooperation,
which lists partnerships between private security and local law enforcement.
These partnerships include the Austin Metro High Tech Foundation, Dallas
Law Enforcement and Private Security (LEAPS), Miami Association for Security
Administration Professionals, New York Area Police/Private Security Liaison,
the Law Enforcement and Private Security Council of Northeast Florida, the
Philadelphia City Center District, and the Southfield Michigan Pooling Resources
in Defense of our Environment (PRIDE) (Bureau of Justice Statistics, 1999).
Given that there are cooperative efforts between law enforcement and private
security, it is surprising to find very little in the academic literature systematically
evaluating these partnerships. The need to evaluate the level of cooperation, its
effectiveness, and avenues for enhancement are necessary if law enforcement and
private security wish to improve cooperative efforts. Although academia has shown
little interest in evaluation of these cooperative efforts, there are some instances of
empirical and exploratory research on the police-security relationship.
Police-Security Attitudes
Morley and Fong (1995) surveyed top administrators of police agencies and owners
of security organizations in California regarding their opinions of what causes
strained relationships between public police and private security. They found that
a majority of respondent law enforcement officers reported that the largest cause
of their mistrust of private security was the lack of training in the security industry.
In addition, law enforcement respondents reported that a respective lack of
understanding of the roles of each organization as well as security’s understanding
of the legal consequences of their actions also contributed to the poor relationship
between the two entities (Morley & Fong, 1995). Security respondents, on the other
hand, reported that the main reason for strain was the lack of communication
between police and security. They did, however, also feel that a lack of training of
security personnel, as did the law enforcement respondents, contributed to strain
between the two entities (Morley & Fong, 1995). Certainly, examining the attitudes
of administrators in both public police and private security is important and
useful as this is where partnerships and cooperation are likely forged; however,
it is generally in the lower ranks that cooperation and partnerships must play
out. Administrators can create partnerships and call for cooperation, but this
does not guarantee success. Successful cooperation must also rely on the attitudes
and actions of the people expected to collaborate. In these public police-private
security partnerships, this is often the rank-and-file personnel. For this reason, it
Nalla and Hummer (1999) observed the perceptions between law enforcement
and private security professionals in a Midwestern state. They found that security
professionals and police professionals generally believe that there is cooperation
between the two groups. The police officers in their sample, however, rated their
relationship with security more positively than did the private security personnel,
who tended to view the relationship as not positive and even adversarial. In
addition, police were less likely than security personnel to report that the two groups
were equal partners in crime prevention. Both groups reported that they could do
more to improve the relationship between the two. Two factors differentiated the
opinions of police and security personnel from one another. For police officers,
time on the job influenced their view of the relationship, with officers working less
than 10 years having a more positive view of the relationship than those working
over 10 years. For security personnel, previous experience in law enforcement was
a key factor in the overall opinion of the relationship. More specifically, security
personnel with no prior police experience view the relationship more positively
than do those with prior police experience.
In his historical analysis of private security, Albanese (1986) notes that the private
security industry has, at various points in time, prospered due to major social or
technological change, which brought about forms of crime to which public law
enforcement was slow to respond. While terrorist attacks are not a new form of
crime for many parts of the world, the terrorist attacks of 9/11 were new to the
United States. Certainly, there has been a response by public law enforcement,
including the passage of legislation such as the Patriot Act and the creation of the
Department of Homeland Security. Due to the ownership of the infrastructure and
the vast numbers of people employed, private security has also, however, stepped
up to take its place in the prevention of terrorism much as it did in the early 1900s
with labor unrest, in the 1960s with urban riots and anti-war demonstrations,
and in the 1970s with the advent of the screening of airline passengers (Albanese,
1986).
Sarre and Prenzler (2000) argue that there are at least two factors that have led to
the growth of private security. Public disillusionment with public policing, they
argue, may create an atmosphere in which private security can flourish. As the
police are criticized as being insensitive to victims, overzealous with criminals,
In addition, it is possible that another factor is also partially responsible for the
growth of private security after 9/11. The attacks added to the responsibilities of
public law enforcement at all levels. Not only are local, county, and state agencies
responsible for the crime-fighting duties entrusted to them prior to 9/11, they are
now expected to be active participants in the protection of the homeland. This
additional obligation has the potential to overburden the existing resources of
public police. This, then, may create more opportunity for private police to step in
and perform some of the duties historically reserved for public police. A related
example can be seen in the protection of army facilities in the United States.
After the terrorist attacks, the Department of Defense (DOD) increased security
requirements at domestic military installations. At the same time, both active duty
and reserve military personnel were deployed overseas to fight in the war on
terror, leaving a shortage of military personnel to protect domestic installations. As
a result, Congress has allowed the DOD to temporarily use private security guards
to provide security, which it has done. As of April 2006, private security guards
were being used at 57 Army installations in the United States (GAO, 2006).
The survey was made available to both samples via a web portal. In order to
maintain anonymity, the heads of ASIS and each of the police departments were
sent an e-mail message with the appropriate website through which their staff
or members could participate in the survey. The primary e-mails were sent out
on November 22, 2004. The survey expired on November 29, 2004. Each of the
police departments chosen provides Internet access to all officers for each shift,
making the instrument readily available to possible respondents at the police
departments.
Findings
Security Police
Item (n = 59) (n = 123) F
1. Security personnel generally have a positive opinion of police
officers. ---- 3.51 (1.09) .611
Police officers generally have a positive opinion of security
personnel. 2.55 (1.03) ----
2. My view of security personnel is positive. ---- 2.98 (1.11) 16.29**
My view of police officers is positive. 4.12 (1.02) ----
3. I characterize the relationship between police and private
security as strong. 2.65 (1.23) 2.14 (0.94) 28.21**
4. In my view, security personnel generally cooperate with
police officers in most crime prevention activities. ---- 3.41 (1.23) .215
In my view, police officers generally cooperate with security
personnel in most crime prevention activities. 3.20 (1.29) ----
5. In my view, police officers share information with security
personnel on matters related to professional interest. 2.34 (1.21) 2.24 (1.09) 1.60
6. In my view, police officers excel in promoting working
relationships with security agencies. ---- 1.90 (1.19) 3.12
In my view, security personnel excel in promoting working
relationships with police agencies. 2.04 (1.00) ----
7. Police and security personnel carry equal weight in crime
prevention activities. 2.57 (1.28) 2.14 (1.21) 3.90*
8. Terrorism has affected the relationship between police officers
and private security. 3.60 (1.22) 2.08 (1.39) .03
9. Homeland security funding has affected the relationship
between police officers and private security. 2.69 (1.61) 1.53 (1.21) 18.91**
10. I believe the relationship between police officers and private
security is stronger now than before the World Trade Center
attacks of September 11, 2001. 3.44 (1.22) 1.97 (1.23) 4.09*
Mean scores are reported (1 = strongly disagree and 5 = strongly agree)
Standard deviations are reported in parentheses.
**p<.01; *p<.05
In regards to the calls for more cooperation and the sharing of information since
9/11, it is interesting to note that there were no significant differences between
the two groups regarding the promotion of working relationships or the sharing
of information, with both groups tending to disagree with these statements. Both
police (1.90) and security (2.04) personnel generally disagreed that the other excels
in promoting working relationships between the two. Also, both police (2.24)
and security (2.34) tended to disagree that police officers share information with
security personnel on matters related to professional interest. Both groups did,
however, generally agree that the other cooperates in crime prevention activities.
This is consistent with Nalla and Hummer’s (1999) findings, the only difference
being that their mean differences were statistically significant for this item while
ours were not. Given that both groups tended to agree with this statement prior to
9/11, the terrorist attacks and the subsequent calls for increased cooperation do not
seem to have impacted the opinions of either group in regards to cooperation.
Security personnel were more likely than police to agree that terrorism, Homeland
Security funding, and the attack on the WTC had impacted the police-security
relationship. Given such differences of opinions, it is perhaps the case that the
primary first defenders of a unified America against terrorism are, in fact, not
entirely unified. Given that private security personnel putatively secure the
majority of the nation’s infrastructure and it is public law enforcement that is
most likely to advance knowledge of impending attacks, the lack of perceived
cooperation is somewhat troubling. Perhaps now more than ever, education of
both the public law enforcement and the private security communities about
the duties and importance of the other as well as the necessity for cooperation
and partnerships is warranted and, in fact, essential to the future security of our
nation’s infrastructure.
References
9/11 Commission. (2004). The 9/11 Commission report: Final report of the National
Commission on Terrorist Attacks upon the United States. New York: W. W. Norton &
Company.
Albanese, J. S. (1986). The future of policing: A private concern? Police Studies, 9(2),
86-91.
Bradford, C. A., & Simonsen, C. E. (1998). The need for cooperative efforts between
private security and public law enforcement in the prevention, investigation, and
prosecution of fraud-related criminal activity. Security Journal, 10, 161-168.
Cunningham, W. C., Strauchs, J. J., & Van Meter, C. (1990). The Hallcrest Report II:
Private security trends, 1970-2000. Stoneham, MA: Butterworth-Heinemann.
Cunningham, W. C., & Taylor, T. H. (1985). Private security and police in America: The
Hallcrest Report I. Boston: Butterworth-Heinemann.
Greene, J. R., & Seamon, T. M. (1995). Merging public and private security for
collective benefit: Philadelphia’s Center City District. American Journal of the
Police, 14(2), 3-20.
Hall, M. (2003). Private security guards are homeland’s weak link. USA Today,
Retrieved January 22, 2003, from www.usatoday.com
Joh, E. E. (2004). The paradox of private policing. Journal of Criminal Law &
Criminology, 95(1), 49-131.
Kakalik, J. S., & Wildhorn, S. (1972). Private police in the United States: Findings
and recommendations (DOJ R-869). Washington, DC: U.S. Government Printing
Office.
Morabito, A., & Greenberg, S. (2005). Engaging the private sector to promote homeland
security: Law enforcement-private security partnerships (NCJ 210678). Washington,
DC: Bureau of Justice Assistance.
Morley, H. N., & Fong, R. S. (1995). Can we all get along? A study of why strained
relations continue to exist between sworn law enforcement and private security.
Security Journal, 6, 85-92.
Sarre, R., & Prenzler, T. (2000). The relationship between police and private
security: Models and future directions. International Journal of Comparative and
Applied Criminal Justice, 24(1), 91-113.
Service Employees International Union (SEIU). (2006). About the industry. Available
online www.seiu.org/property/security/about_industry/index.cfm
In spite of this strong start, serious problems loomed over the horizon; the marshal
service would almost be destroyed within a few years of its creation due to
political fallout caused by internal fighting among the governing branches of the
Cherokee Nation. This article will focus on the rebuilding of the Cherokee Nation
Marshal Service in the aftermath of that political turmoil. It will address the
Nation’s struggle to once again obtain cross-deputization agreements with local
and state agencies, examine data revealing the nature of calls and arrests made
by the Cherokee Nation, and address jurisdictional issues currently confronting
Cherokee Marshals.
Principal Chief Byrd arrived and ordered them to stand down. When Ragsdale
refused to comply, Chief Byrd placed him and Wright on administrative leave.
Ragsdale immediately made emergency application to the Judicial Appeals
Tribunal, and both he and Lieutenant Wright were reinstated the following day
by ex parte order. In issuing the order, Chief Justice Dwight Birdwell cautioned
that any further interference with the investigation would constitute contempt
of court. In response, Chief Byrd fired the entire marshal service and announced
that any further orders of the Judicial Appeals Tribunal pertaining to the marshals
would be ignored (Mouser, 1998/1999).
In the mix of political confusion, Byrd created a new marshal service on March 21;
however, many of the original marshals refused to stand down and remained on
duty without pay. The original marshals were now acting under the authority of
the judicial branch and stationed themselves in the Cherokee Nation Courthouse.
The Byrd marshals were acting under the authority of the executive branch and
remained at the W. W. Keeler Complex. Realizing his inability to maintain control
over a split judicial and law enforcement agency, Chief Byrd solicited the BIA
to assume law enforcement responsibilities in the Cherokee Nation (Mouser,
1998/1999).
In the early morning hours of June 20, Byrd’s marshal service with the assistance
of the BIA stormed the Cherokee Nation Courthouse in downtown Tahlequah.
The BIA, with the assistance of the FBI, seized all court records and locked down
the building. Chief Byrd then sent a certified letter of termination to the only
remaining tribal prosecutor (Romano, 1997, p. B1).
The Judicial Appeals Tribunal had continued to operate from the basement of
the chief justice’s home. They retaliated by immediately issuing a writ ordering
Byrd to reopen the courthouse. When Ragsdale and several remaining original
marshals attempted to serve the papers on Byrd’s marshals, violence erupted. In
the aftermath, six people were injured, and three, including Pat Ragsdale, were
arrested (Gibbons & Glen, 1997).
In response to the melee, the U.S. federal government and the Tribal Council
set up an independent commission, the Massad Commission, to mediate and
attempt to resolve the conflict. After conducting several public hearings and
interviewing numerous tribal officials over several weeks, the three-member
Massad Commission submitted its findings and recommendations to the Tribal
Council. All three branches received some degree of criticism, but ultimately
the Massad Commission held that Byrd’s attempt to impeach the justices of the
tribunal was clearly in violation of the Cherokee Constitution and therefore void
ab initio (Massad, Layden, & Gibbons, 1997, p. 381). Under considerable pressure
from the BIA and the Justice Department, Byrd finally agreed to abide by the
commission’s recommendations and relinquished control of the courthouse to the
judicial branch.
Subsequently, Chief Joe Byrd was defeated at the polls by Chad Smith in the
summer of 1999. Because they had no formal authority and had to function for
so long without pay, most of the original marshals were forced to abandon their
jobs. Only a few dedicated souls remained throughout the conflict. Consequently,
when Principal Chief Chad Smith assumed power, rebuilding the Cherokee Nation
Marshal Service to its original strength became a priority.
In an effort to demonstrate unity to the Cherokee people, Chief Chad Smith worked
closely with the Tribal Council and was able to double the budget by 2002. Hiring
resumed, and the department increased to its current force of 30 regular marshals
and two contract officers who serve as special investigators for the Cherokee
Nation casinos.
Reestablishing Jurisdiction
In 1992, Cherokee Nation Marshals were cross-deputized with both county
officers and the U. S. Marshal Service. Cross-deputized officers enjoyed full
interjurisdictional law enforcement authority; however, when the BIA assumed
law enforcement responsibilities in 1997, the Marshal Service was abolished and
cross-deputization agreements ceased in practice. Interestingly, Delaware was
the only county that formally withdrew its agreement. Other counties merely
assumed that the agreements were no longer in force and stopped providing law
enforcement on Indian lands.
Another casualty suffered by the marshal service was the loss of cross-deputization
with the U. S. Marshal Service. Although it has not been renewed, 13 of 31 marshals
still have federal jurisdiction through Special Law Enforcement Commissions
(SLEC) with the BIA. In order to acquire SLEC certification, marshals must have
either completed the Indian Police Academy or completed the BIA’s Indian Country
Jurisdiction Course within the past 2 years. Certification can be renewed for two
terms, or a total of 6 years. After that time, the course must be retaken to retain
certification. Of particular interest, Oklahoma counties can now approach the tribe
and request the same certification. Upon completing the required training, county
law enforcement officers would be granted the same SLEC jurisdiction on tribal
lands.
The Indian Civil Rights Act of 1968 limits tribal punishment for any crime to one
year in prison and/or a fine of $5,000; therefore, the Cherokee Nation notifies the
FBI and the U.S. Attorneys office of major crimes. The FBI either investigates the
case jointly with the Cherokee Marshals Service or merely delegates the case to
the Cherokee Marshals to investigate. Then, the U.S. Attorney’s Office determines
whether the case should be prosecuted in federal court, tribal court, or both.
Sharon Wright became acting director in January 2004 and was permanently
appointed to the position in May 2005. A captain works directly under her and
helps oversee the agency’s four major divisions: (1) investigation, (2) patrol,
(3) operations, and (4) security. The investigative division includes one chief
investigator and eight investigators. Patrol includes 20 marshals under the
supervision of one lieutenant. The Operations Department is run by an operations
manager who supervises dispatch and records personnel. Security is directed
by a lieutenant who oversees 13 security personnel and promotes community
policing.
In addition to the four major divisions, the department has several specialized
units. Fourteen marshals serve on a special operations team that primarily assists
county officers serving high-risk warrants. The Cherokee Marshal’s Service also
maintains a four-member narcotics division, a two-member DARE unit, and a six-
person underwater dive recovery team.
Because the Indian Civil Rights Act of 1964 limits tribal punishment to a maximum
incarceration of one year, most major crimes are prosecuted by the federal district
court in the Eastern District of Oklahoma. During 2004, this court prosecuted seven
major crimes cases while the Nation prosecuted only two such major crimes.
This explosion in both the number and nature of crimes presents the Cherokee
marshals with a complex maze of jurisdictional issues. The Cherokee marshals
must consider the following:
Such complexity almost mandates the equivalent of a law degree for every
Cherokee marshal. Otherwise, the officer might overstep jurisdictional authority
and expose both him- or herself and the Marshal’s Service to civil and criminal
liability. Understandably, the obvious solution is cross-deputization among all
city, county, and state law enforcement officials, but even this seemingly simple
solution has complex ramifications. Once the Cherokee marshal is involved in the
arrest of a non-Indian, the officer acquires an additional duty of testifying in a non-
Indian court. With limited resources and manpower, appearing at depositions and
preliminary hearings and being called as a witness in court could prove to be an
incredible drain of time and money.
The apparent solution might be to simply exclude non-Indian offenders from tribal
lands and casinos, thereby turning a blind eye to non-Indian offenses such as petit
larceny, minor drug offenses, and simple domestic disorders. Such nonfeasance,
however, might expose the Cherokee marshal or the tribe to both civil and criminal
Similarly, tribal officers may act as state, county, or federal officers when cross-
deputized. By consenting to cross-deputization agreements, the Cherokee Nation
may well be consenting to all state and federal laws associated with carrying a
state or federal badge. As such, any Cherokee marshal who commits nonfeasance,
malfeasance, or misfeasance while acting in the capacity and under color of law
of a county or federal officer may well be subjecting both him- or herself and the
Marshal’s Service to civil tort liability.
As such, Cherokee marshals must become elite, well educated law enforcement
officials, highly trained not only in tribal law, but also in state and federal law.
The Cherokee marshal must be trained on how to diffuse conflict arising among
diverse and varying cultures, arrests of Indians as well as non-Indians, and a
quagmire of jurisdictional issues. In essence, the Cherokee Nation marshal faces
some of the most extensive and complex multijurisdictional training requirements
in the nation.
To address that need, the FBI’s Indian Country Unit has integrated training with
the FBI and the Bureau of Indian Affairs – Office of Law Enforcement Services
(BIA – OLES) as well as tribal, local, state, and county law enforcement agencies.
The FBI provides training on Indian Country Basics, Law Enforcement Training
for Safety and Survival, Crime Scene Management, Crime Scene Processing, Child
Sexual Abuse, Physical Abuse Training, Child Homicide, Stress Management,
Indian Gaming Investigation, Interviewing and Interrogation, First Responder
Course, Forensic Interviewing, Critical Incident Training, and local training as
requested.14
Conclusion
The aftermath of Ross v. Neff has forced the Cherokee Nation’s Marshal Service to
evolve from the frontier day Light-Horseman into a modern-day law enforcement
expert. The Cherokee marshal must be well versed in tribal, state, and federal law
in order to properly handle the vast array of jurisdictional issues that might be
encountered on tribal lands. Otherwise, the marshal may find him- or herself in a
high-tension situation making untrained, unwise, and potentially incorrect arrest
decisions. To overcome this particularly complex jurisdictional mine field, Director
Sharon Wright is taking a proactive stance by providing Cherokee marshals with
education and training geared to diffuse those land mines before they explode.
Bibliography
Assimilative Crimes Act, 18 U.S.C. § 13 (2006).
Duro v. Reina, 495 U.S. 676, 696‑97, 110 S.Ct. 2053, 109 L.Ed.2d 693 (1990).
Gamallo, M. (1995, August 15). Cherokee chief sworn in. Tulsa World, p. 7.
Gibbons, B., & Glenn, E. (1997, August 14). Violence erupts at tribal courthouse.
Tahlequah Daily Press, p. 1.
Heck, B., Keen, R., & Wilds, M. (2001). Structuring the Cherokee Nation justice
system: The history and function of the Cherokee Nation Marshal Service.
Criminal Justice Policy Review, 12(1), 26‑42.
Horton v. California, 496 U.S. 128, 136‑37, 110 S.Ct. 2301, 110 L.Ed.2d 112 (1990).
Indian Civil Rights Act of 1968, 401, 404, 25 U.S.C.A. § 1321, 1324 (2006).
Indian Country Crime. (2005). Retrieved November 15, 2005, from www.fbi.gov/
hq/cid/indian/about.htm
Massad, A., Layden, R., & Gibbens, D. (1997). The Massad Commission Report to
the Tribal Council of the Resignation Initiative Committee. Norman: University of
Oklahoma.
Public Law No. 88‑280, 67 Stat. 588 (Act of August 15, 1953).
Rice v. Rehner, 463 U.S. 713, 103 S. Ct. 3291 U.S. (1983).
Romano, L., (1997). A nation divided: The Cherokee government is in crisis and
tribal leaders say Chief Joe Byrd is to blame. The Washington Post, p. B1.
18 U.S.C. § 922(g)(1).
18 U.S.C. § 924(a)(2).
18 U.S.C.A. § 1151.
18 U.S.C.A. § 1153.
18 U.S.C.A. § 2258.
25 U.S.C.A. § 479.
25 U.S.C.A. § 1321.
25 U.S.C.A. § 1324.
William Heck earned his PhD from Sam Houston University in 1990. He
has been a police officer in Louisiana and Texas and is currently an associate
professor of criminal justice, legal studies, and homeland security at
Northeastern State University.
Introduction
In a perfect world, the observations and conclusions derived from research would
move practice toward the development of insightful ideas used to create more
effective strategies for addressing social issues. Logically, it seems as though
research and practice would easily complement one another; however, while this
is an appealing notion, each currently plays a minimal role in the formation or
improvement of the other.
Both sides of this partnership, researchers and practitioners, have often recognized
this apparent gap, but solutions to the dilemma have yet to be thoroughly addressed.
Incentives for change are, however, beginning to shift previous paradigms relating
to the relationship between research and policy/practice. For example, in recent
years, federally sponsored programs have begun to require a significant percentage
of funds to be allocated toward the assessment of respective program goals and
objectives (typically 10%) (Lane, Turner, & Flores, 2004; Murphy & Dienemann,
1999; Tilley & Laycock, 2000; Welsh & Farrington, 2005). Consequently, “as funders
require programs and interventions to be evidence-based and expect outcome
evaluations to be conducted, clinicians, administrators/policy makers, and
researchers/educators will more likely participate in the integration of research to
practice” (Campbell, Daood, Catlin, & Abelson, 2005, p. 12).
In an effort to assist vested parties in bridging this gap, we suggest that greater benefit
could be derived if those attempting to address common issues developed more
dynamic and reciprocal relationships utilizing the concepts of translational research.
Originating in the medical field, translational research offers vested parties (i.e.,
researchers, practitioners, policy makers, and community leaders) the opportunity
to work together in an effort to develop a more thorough understanding of the
intricacies of a particular problem, as opposed to simply looking to the literature
for solutions others have used to address similar problems.
To date, there have been few initiatives throughout the criminal system that have
actively employed the concepts of a translational paradigm. For this reason, we
have reviewed studies from a number of other disciplines with some history of
effectively utilizing such concepts in an effort to promote a “model” of best practices
that might be used in appropriate future criminal justice-oriented endeavors. The
underlying issues that lead to the gap between research and practice inform these
practices. It is important to acknowledge and adjust for these existing limitations if
those vested are to begin shifting their current paradigms toward more evidence-
based policies and intelligence-led criminal justice strategies.
The Gap
In exploring issues that have typically fostered the gap between research and
practice, it became evident that several variables have traditionally contributed to
the manner in which the relevant parties related to one another. The factor that has
perhaps demonstrated the greatest impact was that these parties often worked in
organizations with very divergent paradigms. This can spur a resistance to change
among parties, fueled by negative attitudes and stereotypes, making it difficult for
them to consider the perspectives and ideas of those outside their familiar venue.
Because working successfully in partnership essentially requires some adjustment
on the part of each group member, it was fitting to explore this element of the gap
by considering the differing demands placed on researchers and practitioners.
Another factor that has impacted the gap is that, “much research by social scientists
can be rather unhelpful to policy-makers and practitioners” (Tilley & Laycock,
2000, p. 215). While research findings are meant to provide knowledge and
support for the activities utilized in practice, they are typically not disseminated
in a manner conducive to a general audience (i.e., scholarly publications, academic
conferences, etc.). Moreover, the language common to this mode of dissemination
is not readily accessible to non-science-based audiences. This has tended to be
particularly problematic for practitioners as they have attempted to interpret and
apply research findings.
Taken together, these factors result in the lack of a common agenda as well as precise,
rigorously tested interventions (i.e., a gap between research and practice). Often,
when an intervention appears effective, the “why” necessary for reproduction of
the positive outcome is likely based more on speculation rather than concrete,
empirically grounded evidence.
As the criminal justice discipline advances, a means for bridging the gap between
research and practice is necessary for vested parties to best meet the needs of
those served. Hence, improving strategies requires understanding of two primary
considerations: (1) research questions and endeavors must be grounded in, and
continuously informed by, the practices and/or issues realized from the field
(i.e., the “practitioner reality”) and (2) field policies and related strategies are
implemented based on empirically driven information.
In the 1998 article entitled, Bridging the Gap Between Practice and Research, the Institute of
Medicine (IOM) called on scholars and clinicians to begin addressing the needs of the
public through “research to practice” (Lamb et al. as cited in Campbell et al., 2005). In
Within this framework, the initial research itself was, and continues to be, informed
by the dynamics of the field as it creates a cooperative venue for applying what
is learned in the empirical world to the treatments and interventions needed by
practitioners. The fact that the field is determining the applicable and necessary
solutions creates a reciprocal relationship among the various stakeholders,
offering the necessary venue for developing a “shared dialogue.” Here, a mutual
understanding of the problem facilitates the formation of common goals and a
sense of partnership among participants. This is an important concept, as the
goal of translational research is to promote circumstances in which all parties at
the table feel they have a voice and are benefiting in some capacity. Moreover, a
combined effort offers a higher likelihood that the resulting solution will be more
efficacious than if one group or the other attempted to perform the task alone.
Since its inception in the medical field, the utilization of translational concepts
has been effectively illustrated in areas such as cancer research, cardiovascular
disease, and gene therapy (Hudgins & Allen-Meares, 2000). Attempts at combining
research and practice have also proven valuable in other contexts including
social work (Allen-Meares, Hudgins, Engberg, & Lessnau, 2005; Berg-Weger
et al., 2004), public health education (Roe & Lancaster, 2005) and occupational
health (Kramer & Wells, 2005), where collaborative endeavors of this nature have
joined researchers, practitioners, and policy makers in efforts to develop a shared
dialogue about widespread problems. Moreover, applying these concepts within a
criminal justice context will also likely provide successful results. While this seems
like common sense, the reality can be both time-consuming and difficult (Tilley &
Laycock, 2000).
For this reason, few cooperative projects of this nature have been initiated to date;
however, some projects in criminal justice contexts have been conducted using a
collaborative model conceptually similar to that of translational research. These
efforts have been published in the area of substance abuse treatment (Campbell
et al., 2005), juvenile probation (Lane et al., 2004), evaluation research (Tilley &
Laycock, 2000), and abuser intervention programs (Murphy & Dienemann, 1999;
see Table 1). In addition, two authors in the area of corrections have offered insight
and guidelines as to how mutual partnerships between agencies and academics
might be created and fostered (Smith, Tewksbury, & Potter, 2005; Gentry-Sperber,
Henderson-Hurley, & Hanley, 2005; see Table 2).
Reviewing the discussions related to these studies has indicated that a number of
the authors agree that the incorporation of a “research to practice” philosophy is
both necessary and inevitable in the area of criminal justice but that it has yet to
be fully realized. While the project documentation shows that the collaborative
process has not been completely refined within a criminal justice context, it does
offer insight as to how future efforts can best employ the translational model.
Additionally, these studies have allowed the authors to address some of the
practical needs and obstacles inherent to projects of this nature (e.g., necessary
Table 1
Based on a review of these initial studies, translational research within the context
of criminal justice is grounded in a spirit of collaboration and ongoing reciprocity.
It involves building an alliance among individuals linked by a common problem in
order to develop a viable solution for addressing that problem. With this in mind,
issues to consider at the outset of a project might include the type(s) of problem(s)
that need to be addressed, the resources an agency can offer, the expertise and
experience of the researchers, the time frame in which the group must operate, the
degree of control over the process each party wants, and expectations for the final
outcome of the project (Smith et al., 2005).
Logically, the first, and perhaps most important step in this process, is assembling
the right combination of representative individuals. These individuals must
possess strong leadership and communication skills, as successful collaboration
requires active leadership on many levels. Moreover, it may be prudent to appoint
leaders from each representative organization/agency who possess a solid
understanding of the problem and what outcomes are feasible in order to better
facilitate communication among the group.
Here, leaders can encourage participants to accommodate the needs of the group as
a whole by promoting a sense of understanding for all perspectives and ensuring
that the concerns of every participant are adequately addressed. Designating
leaders who are able to assist the group with communication may increase the
likelihood of the group’s ability to effectively address the issues.
In addition, this helps facilitate the ongoing conversations necessary for successful
advancement of the issues (Lane et al., 2004) in that positive exposure can be
used in this way to encourage collaboration by emphasizing the benefits of
translational research. It may also guide those who have not previously embraced
these principles, toward considering it a viable possibility. What’s more, talking
Additionally, but perhaps less formally, projects of this nature might inform
changes to curriculum, incorporating innovative ideas through service learning.
These opportunities can enrich the course of study by offering students aspiring
to work as practitioners the chance to gain relevant work experience and network
with the agencies. Agencies benefit from this practice as well by gaining access to
“up and coming” practitioners. This likely guarantees that translational research
practices will perpetuate beyond the scope of immediate projects as the concepts
are instilled as part of the educational process.
The first issue that might be considered a limitation is that the translational
process can be arduous and challenging in nature. Specifically, the process may
be particularly time-consuming for those involved (Allen-Meares et al., 2005).
For instance, requiring practitioners to read through research that may or may
not offer meaningful suggestions or relevant ideas is not practical—other job
requirements likely take precedence over reading literature written in “technical”
terms (Campbell et al., 2005).
Another illustration of this point may come in how the group communicates
regarding the findings of the research. In particular, practitioners may find that
“researchers often have, at best, rather vague answers . . . to pressing questions,
with many caveats, qualifications, and admonitions for more research to be
done” (Murphy & Dienemann, 1999, p. 1322). Without adequately addressing
this limitation, solutions to problems can result in knee-jerk reactions by criminal
justice leaders, rather than well thought out strategies based on sound research,
input from relevant parties, and program evaluation.
A second limitation that would present a concern for the researchers is that
organizations might unintentionally abuse the findings of the research. This
occurs when an organization generalizes the findings beyond the original scope of
the project. While inference can be fine when the facts are placed within context,
the results must be used with caution, lest the entire process be delegitimatized.
“Most policy decisions are taken in a political context” (Tilley & Laycock, 2000,
p. 221), and maintaining a position may be difficult given political pressures. With
this in mind, it becomes important to closely guard the integrity of the project from
anyone who might use the findings to fulfill a personal or political agenda.
When the group identifies and discusses these potential limitations at the outset
of a project, they can effectively address the limitations in a number of different
ways. Recognizing the limitations also requires vested parties to be aware of
the idea that “translation is more dynamic than simply applying our research to
problems” (Petronio, 1999, p. 88) and that it requires a group effort in developing
ways of negotiating a strategy toward a practice that satisfies all parties to some
degree (Lane et al., 2004).
References
Allen-Meares, P., Hudgins, C., Engberg, M., & Lessnau, B. (2005). Using a
collaboratory model to translate social work research into practice and policy.
Research on Social Work Practice, 15(1), 29-40.
Berg-Weger, Tebb, S., Loveland Cook, C., Gallagher, M. B., Flory, B., & Cruce, A.
(2004). The Collaborative Research Education Partnership: Community, faculty,
and student partnerships in practice evaluation. Journal of Community Practice,
12(3/4), 141-162.
Crawley, W., Hughes, F., & Dopke, L. (2006, October). Research utilization in criminal
justice. Paper presented at the Annual Meeting of the Midwest Criminal Justice
Association, Chicago, IL.
Ferguson, J. (2002). Putting the “what works” research into practice. Criminal
Justice and Behavior, 29(4), 472-492.
Gentry-Sperber, K., Henderson-Hurley, M., & Hanley, D. (2005). Bridging the gap
between theory and practice: A call to action. Federal Probation, 69(1), 3-6.
Kramer, D., & Wells, R. (2005). Achieving buy-in, building networks to facilitate
knowledge transfer. Science Communication, 26(4), 428-444.
Roe, K., & Lancaster, B. (2005). Mind the gap! Insight from the first 5 years of the
circle of research and practice. Health Promotion Practice, 6(2), 129-133.
Tilley, N., & Laycock, G. (2000). Joining up research, policy and practice about
crime. Policy Studies, 21(3), 213-226.
Weisbord, M. R., & Janoff, S. (1995). Future search. San Francisco: Berrett-Koehler
Publishers.
Lisa Dopke, BS, completed her bachelor’s degree in legal studies in 2005.
Currently, she is working for a large Michigan-based law firm as a litigation
support specialist, while completing her MS in criminal justice at Grand
Valley State University. Her area of research focus involves communications
with and throughout the criminal justice system.
Harry Dolan, MS, is currently the chief of police for the city of Grand
Rapids, Michigan. Prior to this appointment, he served as the chief of
police in Lumberton, North Carolina, and the chief of police for the North
Carolina Department of Human Resources Police Department located in
Black Mountain. Chief Dolan received his BS degree in criminal justice from
Western Carolina University and his MS degree in organizational leadership
and management at the University of North Carolina in Pembroke. In
addition, he is a certified public manager through the National Certified
Public Managers Consortium, North Carolina Office of State Personnel, and
has attended the Police Executive Development Program at the University of
North Carolina in Chapel Hill.
This book examines the problem of police discipline from the collective
perspective of professional law enforcement leaders. It offers the reader
practical, not theoretical, solutions in dealing with problem employees
and misconduct incidents. It reflects the experience and dedication of a
highly experienced group of Illinois police chiefs and sheriffs.
For further information, contact the Illinois Law Enforcement Training and
Standards Board Executive Institute at (309) 298-2646.
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