The Cost of Doing Business? (Part 1)

Being a cop is stressful a lot of the time.  Chaotic calls, fast paced situations, use of force incidents, shooting scenes, large scale fights, people on drugs or in a state of excited delirium...the stress is just a part of doing business.

Then there are the complaints, going to talk to IA or a civilian oversight body, getting pulled aside in the hallway or into the sergeants office for a little chit-chat, or going down to Corp Counsel/city attorneys to talk about the lawsuit and why someone is suing you.

More than once I've seen the back side of this door

Then there is the ever present risk of injury from hopping fences, crashes in a squad car, being struck when outside of a squad on a traffic stop, and use of force injuries.  Lets not forget that always waiting-in-the-wings chance of being seriously injured or killed by gunfire or a weapon.  Every cop knows what the potential outcome is for an incident, even the "routine" or "mundane" calls that we handle everyday without incident.

A traditional business owner has their costs for doing business.  Prior to strapping on a duty belt and pinning on a badge I worked in a field where I needed a plethora of tools and training.  Basically to the tune of $10,000 just to have enough for entry level work, nevermind the specialty tools I needed for jobs where I had a knack for figuring out.  Plumbers, welders, contractors, automotive technicians, just about any blue collar manual labor job requires a "buy-in" or cost either up front for entry, or throughout a career.  

Not to mention the wear and tear on a body that both the aforementioned professions and law enforcement (firefighters, paramedics, and even our dispatchers) go through.  Whether that is wearing 40 lbs of vest and duty belt, nearly 50 lbs of bunker gear, lugging a heavy stretcher or backboard with a patient up and down stairs, or the constant sitting in a chair and getting the crap scared out of you when one of your officers calls for help as a dispatcher.  The constant state of hypervigilance or bouncing off the atmosphere of normalcy as you skip in and out of your fight or flight response wears down the nervous system and causes a sort of hypotrophy of the mind.

Yet again, every cop, firefighter, paramedic, and dispatcher knows there is a "cost" to doing our jobs.  While we might bitch about it to each other within our professions, the cathartic aspect, we know that people on the outside of our family and friend's circle really don't understand.  There are studies, academics, and research done into the things we face, but until you can sit with someone who has experienced that cost, it is hard to conceptualize. 

For many of us, it is a cost we are willing to pay for something we are passionate about and called to.

But there is one more cost, the taboo cost, the dirty one that no one wants to talk about:

Suicide.

I probably tweet about that cost recently, that one day I knew I'd get a call about a cop I personally knew that had taken their life.  Suicide is a cost that every cop knows is going to come calling to collect it's unfair share.  It is a cost that we all know about, even within our related first responder professions, but yet there is very little investment into prevention of it.

In the academy we are taught to be physically strong, know case law, know our local muni codes and state laws, know what we can and cannot do by policy; we are made book smart strong.  But even now, there are departments large and small that still teach a kindergarten level of mental preparedness to their officers.  Sure, we all KNEW what bloody scenes would be like, we all were warned calls with kids were going to haunt us, but a whispered word of warning does nothing when there is no "tool" given to "fix" the haunt on the back side.

I am sure every cop knows tactical breathing/box breathing/combat breathing techniques for immediately after a stressful situation to try to regulate again.  We've all seen BWCs of cops freezing on a call and hitting that condition Black and just mentally leaving the scene.  But what about all the moments leading up to a decision being made to end it all?

Chicago Police Officer Elena Bilyarska painted by Jonny Castro Art

I remember seeing the message in a group text thread I'm in that Elena had taken her life and I was flabbergasted.  Another friend called me tearfully and let me know that it was true.  I was as shocked as she was that Elena was gone; it just didn't make sense to us or anyone really.  

But when does suicide make sense to anyone but to the person, in that moment, as they take their life?

When I heard Officer John McKenna, aka Johnny Mac, passed in his sleep I made a personal vow to just be the nice guy around the district and anywhere I was.  Johnny Mac was unflappable in every situation and always went out of his way to talk to the newest officer and make sure everything was copacetic.  He was a friend to everyone, always ready with a joke, and ready to set any other copper at ease.

Elena was that wild spirit that was born to be a cop; an affectionate moniker she gained, but absolutely hated, was Wild Bill.  But that was Elena, she was always ready to go, be the first to a call, first with a smartass remark, or ready to jump into any photo with friends she could.  

That cost, one I dreaded since I stepped into the Chicago Police academy, the one that was always mentioned but never really talked about and discussed, had come to collect its unjust fare.

Since Elena's suicide I've been trying to reach out to coworkers, new and old, and just send a text to them saying hello and checking in.  A few minutes of my investment, I hope, helps to stave off the collection of another suicide fare.

I finished my drive to work in a silent stupor and let my supervisor know I'd have a funeral to attend and why.  The very first thing he said, after giving condolences, was I should take the time I needed to go back to Chicago.  He then gave me some direction to reach out to my new department's wellness unit and see what resources there are, but that even though I was in training with the new department I didn't need to worry about it and we would all figure it out.

I was able to return home without any mental hang-ups on whether I was going to have trouble finishing my TO phase and just be there for Elena, her family, and my friends.  I was able to participate in the funeral and try my best to showcase who she was to so many of us.

Every prayer said by a cop, every salute given in farewell and fair seas, every note on the bagpipes, every tear shed at that funeral was just us paying the price.

Yeah, in some sense "We signed up for this", we knew the cost, we knew the price that we would all have to pay one day, but it still blows.