In today’s society, we are inundated with movies and TV
programs covering big-city cops. When you turn on the TV, you can’t
help but see all the CSI, Law and Order, and COPS programs and
watch the exciting lives of police officers from Miami, New York,
Las Vegas, or Los Angeles. These officers are gifted in their abilities
to collect massive amounts of evidence that will allow modern
science, within the hour, to spit out the name of a suspect. The shows
unfairly characterize all cops as quick to use force and not affected
by traumatic events. You could also argue that such programs, along
with true-crime novels, lead viewers and readers to believe that crime
occurs only in large metropolitan areas and doesn’t really affect rural
places or small towns.
From my perspective of thirty years of police service, most of it
spent in smaller Oregon communities, I can say that many citizens
believe police officers are arrogant, badge-heavy ticket writers. Early
on in my career, I realized that I was a little different than most
officers. My friends were not just police officers. My wife and I had
a good marriage, and we were active as a couple and then as a family
with other couples and families mostly in my wife’s circle. I found that
our noncop friends were intrigued with my job but had no idea what
kind of evil really exists. They told me I didn’t fit the stereotype of a
police officer. I’m not sure that I was different or if their perception
came from a recent traffic ticket, which could have been their one
and only encounter with a police officer. More recently, I have heard
grumblings about the “luxurious” retirement packages for police
officers and how, because of fiscal difficulties in the government,
many are even calling for a change to these twenty-five-year pensions.
Everyone knows that police officers are different from other
people. They go against the basic instinct to flee danger and are more
Crimes, Confessions, and Convictions than willing to go to it—into the
school after the shooter, into a high
speed pursuit to stop the armed robbers, or into countless buildings
to search for the hidden felon. The US Department of Justice Bureau
of Justice Statistics revealed that between 1976 and 1999, more than
1,800 law enforcement officers were killed in the line of duty.
What media depictions of police and statistics don’t show is the
hidden killer of police officers. Police officers work in a high-stress
environment and are, for the most part, sedentary. They work
rotating shifts and are subject to being called in at any time. All of
these factors have been studied and restudied, and the results are
clear: police officers, specifically those from smaller agencies, with
as little as nine years on the job face a significantly high mortality
rates. Risks of cancer, cirrhosis of the liver, and heart disease are all
substantially higher in police than what has been recorded in the
average population. The studies go further to show that officers with
thirty years on the job face more than three times the mortality rate of
the general population.
Mentioned in the FBI Bulletin was the sad statistics relayed in
a 2004 report by the National Police Suicide Foundation: in 2000,
approximately four hundred police officers committed suicide. This
number was three times greater than the national average. According
to Dr. Dan Goldfarb, in his speech written for Heavybadge.com,
police officers also face a divorce rate between 60 and 75 percent,
depending upon the study, while the national average remains at 50
percent.
Researchers have also studied the life expectancy of police officers.
The most commonly cited study was done by John M. Violanti,
PhD, research associate professor in the University of Buffalo’s
Department of Social and Preventive Medicine. His forty-year study
of police officers with between ten and nineteen years of service
showed an average life expectancy of sixty-six years. Other studies
have shown life expectancy for police officers between fifty-three and
sixty-six years of age. At the same time, the average life expectancy in
the United States is seventy-four years for men and eighty years for
women.
What brought these risks home for me was the article “Issues
in Small Town Policing” from the July 2004 FBI Law Enforcement
Bulletin, as its authors suggested officers serving small towns were at
even greater risk of these health issues partly because rural officers
were not able to step away from the job. No matter where the
officers were at or what they were doing, people identified them as
police officers, so they remained hyperaware and often, because they
are identified as police officers and are expected to act, they are called
into service while enjoying a family outing. Officers serving larger
agencies have the luxury of anonymity while off duty and therefore
can truly unwind and spend quality time with their families.
These numbers are just that—numbers—and I am sure everyone
has heard the adage that statistics don’t lie but liars use statistics.
In 1998 my father, Roger Decker, retired at the age of sixty-two as
Wallowa County Sheriff. He had spent over thirty years in police
service, and prior to that, he spent twenty years in military service. In
October 1999, at the age of sixty-three, he died suddenly from a heart
attack.
So to those who may question why police officers are allowed to
retire early or to those whose only opinion of police comes from an
undeserving traffic citation, I challenge you to look a little closer at
what officers face and what sacrifices they make to provide us with a
safer community.