by Linda Olmstead
Tradition. This can be a system rich in history and steeped in honor. There's a lot of emotional attachment to traditions, too. Attend any memorial service, whether for past incidents honored during Peace Officer Memorial Week or for a recent loss, and those traditions will choke you right up.
My first agency funeral for an in-service death was something I will never forget. I'd never experienced anything like it previously, when working in the consolidated PSAP environment. The only similar experience had been the day of the funeral for our supervisor, who died suddenly, just two nights before the 10-year anniversary of the opening of our Comm Center.
We'd been involved in planning the open house ceremonies, arranged for a buffet and sent out all the invitations to our user agencies. I was a shift supervisor at the time, and one of the dispatchers called me at home, in tears, to tell me the Comm Center supervisor had just died, totally unexpectedly.
After discussion the next day, it was decided that we'd go on with the event as a memorial to him, because he'd been so proud of planning for the Comm Center's special day. His funeral was set for the day following the Open House.
We pulled it off, too. It was a far more somber "party" than we'd originally planned, but still nice that so many members of the user agencies made their appearance and stayed to talk with us about the history of the Comm Center and our supervisor's contributions-and foibles. [fond smile]
Several dispatchers wanted to attend his funeral. I chose to cover a shift and work the channel for the jurisdiction in which his memorial service was held. I was just fine as the hour approached. It wasn't until the chief of police came up on the air to advise, "Center, I'll be off the air, at Mission for the service, saying good-bye to Otto" that my composure dissolved. I could hardly acknowledge his transmission with a simple "10-4, 300."
The Family
That was years ago. I've attended funerals for officers who'd died in the line of duty, but they were, well, not members of my immediate family, if that makes any sense. Not until I joined my current agency and suffered the loss of an officer, have I had as deep an emotional response. Maybe that's because we are a "family" in this department.
Traditions in law enforcement funerals are many and varied. Full dress "Class A" uniformed Honor Guards. Amazing Grace played on bagpipes. "Missing man" flying formations of police helicopters. Miles-long processions of patrol vehicles with headlights and light-bars ablaze. Partners and dignitaries saying well-written and deeply emotional good-byes. Sometimes there's even a "Last Call" on the radio.
During my year of headset-less employment between agencies, I worked at a Pet Cemetery in southern California. It was a very interesting line of work, quite different, that almost made up for my missing the diverse incidents encountered in a public safety communications career.
While working there, I handled the arrangements for one or two law enforcement canine handlers who wanted their former partners cremated; you see, the business operated an on-site crematory and absolutely guaranteed each pet was cremated separately. Then one of Huntington Beach PD's K-9s was critically injured, dying two days later of knife wounds inflicted by a burglar he captured. HBPD had a plot at the cemetery for their dogs. We scheduled a time for a memorial service and subsequent burial.
K-9 handlers from agencies all over the nation arrived to honor Kim. The grounds were full of teams in full uniform-even the dogs had black bands across the badges on their collars. There was a color guard, a procession, and not a single dry eye in the vicinity. The media was present here, too; this was a formal, full-blown Peace Officer funeral.
Officer Death
Not very long after I joined my current agency, one of our motor sergeants was killed in a traffic accident by a drunk driver. The day before, he'd been in the Comm Center, shucking and jiving with us dispatchers, like always, and suddenly he was gone. I got to see how my department honored one of its own. One of "my own," now.
Those traditions dig deeply into your heart, where you may not even have known you'd been keeping a part of that person "safe."
Dispatchers are intrinsic personnel in any "Line of Duty Death." Not only do we need to be involved in Critical Incident debriefings, but we need to be considered during the plans for memorial services-and during the actual funerals, while on duty. Maybe we couldn't get away for the service, or maybe we need to keep doing our jobs to the best of our abilities while the rest of the world stops during the ceremonies. (Because the rest of the world doesn't stop, of course:)
Somebody's got to answer those calls. Even if an adjoining agency handles the beats for the duration, stuff still happens and people still need us. And call us.
We're luckier at my department, in some respects, because we operate multiple Comm Centers and the equipment is pretty much the same in all those Centers. CAD is the same, from one of our Comm Centers to another.
When a smaller Comm Center to the south of us experienced the death of two officers at the same time, we sent some of our dispatchers down to work there so the entire staff could attend their memorial services. And it helped create a closer bond between them and us (not that there was any friction prior to this, but the situation engendered a special closeness).
Those are the nitty-gritty traditions that bind us as a "family." The horribly sad ones.
Excellence
There are also the traditions of excellence. Good, good. Anybody acting outside that expectation goes against a deeply-entrenched tradition of service to the public. Unfortunately, sometimes there is also a tradition of "closed ranks" when one of our brothers or sisters in service have acted in a dishonorable fashion. "Code of Silence" is one term for a very bad tradition.
And then there is that old, old tradition of "we've always done it this way."
Change is hard. New procedures, new technology, new ideas, these all threaten our established comfort zones! "If it ain't broke, don't fix it!" is the rallying cry of many a traditionalist. Now, change for change's sake, that simply sucks. But if there is a better way to handle something, even if the "old" way still works, why is it so tough to make that change?
Because we are comforted by what we know, that's why. Even if some of the stuff we "know" is dysfunctional, it's familiar. Who knows what Change may-change-around here! [grin]
"Don't upset the apple-cart." Uh huh. Maybe there's a better way to cart them apples, ever think of that? Maybe those apples are bad and we need a change of diet? "Don't upset the status quo!" Whose status? What's quo? Who benefits from this situation, anyway? I see. "Don't rock the boat." Welllllif there aren't any life-jackets or you're far from shore without the ability to swim, that one might be something best addressed in a less destructive fashion. [nodding seriously]
More Tasks
And why am I philosophizing in this vein? Down here in the trenches in our Comm Centers, traditions and change are important factors. The world is not going to stand still, least of all for those of us in public safety!
It is the "tradition" to pile more tasks on dispatchers. After all, we're there 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, we can handle facility maintenance duties, can't we? (Just one example that springs to mind quite easily.)
It's the "tradition" for dispatchers to do more with less; we make it work. Short staffed? (duh!) It's got to be covered, those phones and radio have to be answered. New procedures established by outside authority (NCIC and other Federal agencies come up with some good ones), here, you dispatchers do this now. It's got to be done, butoh ummmwe don't have extra staff to give you to get it done; fit it in between the other stuff you do.
Let's go back to the discussion of that tradition of excellence, for a bit. What is a tradition and what is a perception? Rescue 9-1-1. That program established a perception of what every 9-1-1 center should do for the public. (Never mind that there were differences in procedures for every agency depicted; the public remembers what it wants to remember.) 20-20 and some other investigative reporting type programs depicted entirely different realities. Big chasm between the two.
Where does your Comm Center fit? The public will remember what it wants to remember, and inflammatory or sensational tragedy is more memorable than "somebody did a good job, yet again, just like always."
Both Rescue 9-1-1 and 20-20-good image and bad-have repercussions. How does one fight a perception? How does one avoid being painted with that tar brush, simply by association?
Well, down here in the trenches, we just keep trying to do the best we can with what we've got. It helps if you have a tradition of excellence. It helps if you treat others as if they are members of your family. And it helps if you are also treated as members of the "family" to which you belong in your department.
Help each other when things are going sideways fast, support each other when they perform with less than excellence-support them so they can reach that level of expectation!-and cheer at all the successes, because there's no greater feeling than having your family at the sidelines acknowledging something done well.
Happy to be here, proud to serve.
Linda Olmstead
June, 2000