Every Day: Lives On The Line

I remember when I was training to be a dispatcher for the Baca County Sheriff’s Department in Springfield, Colo., in 1980. It was my very first job in law enforcement and I had a lady training me who was tough as nails - Ruth Church. Ruth had been with the sheriff’s department for several years and there was a few things one could learn about her right away - the number one priority was the safety of “her” officers and the community we served, and dedication and hard work were not just personality traits - they were a way of life for her. She pretty much had a “no nonsense” attitude, while at the same time dishing up a sense of humor that was all her own. I remember the Sheriff there at the time telling me Ruth had not missed a day of work except one - and it was the day there was a flood in the county. She spent that day looking for another road to get in to town to do her job.

Through that office, we dispatched for not just the sheriff’s department, but also for the local police department, highway patrol, ambulance and fire, while at the same time serving as detention officers taking care of the jail. It was while I was training with Ruth that I had my first taste of what it was like to have someone on the end of a radio be dependent on how we reacted. I was almost at the end of my training period, when a highway patrolman called in a tag number for us to run through the NCIC (National Crime Information Center) system. The car came back with a “hit” - it was wanted out of Texas and was possibly driven by a runaway. We gave the information back to the patrolman and soon we heard his voice - which was now higher pitched and urgent as he said, “shots fired, shots fired - I need an ambulance.” I got on the radio letting other officers know the situation and letting them know he was in need of assistance. For what seemed like an eternity, I waited after dispatching, making calls - doing all that I could for that moment. I waited to hear that “Ruth’s” officers were all okay. To say my heart felt like it dropped in my chest is an understatement. But as dispatchers know, there are times when you have done all you can do and now you have nothing left but to wait. Wait until someone asks for something else of you or gives you an update on what has transpired. I did not know if the ambulance was for the patrolman or the runaway. The next thing I remember (it’s been a day or two), was officers leaving the scene and heading back in to town. When they came up to the sheriff’s office, I learned the agency that had entered the information on the young man in the computer had failed to mention the part about him saying he “wouldn’t be taken back alive.” The young man apparently reached in the vehicle he was in, and came back out with a gun in his hand. After first pointing it at the patrolman, he then raised the gun to his own forehead and took his own life. The patrolman was fine - as fine as one could be after witnessing a teenager end his life in front of him.

When the call was “wrapped up” I sighed a big sigh and sat back in my chair. The adrenaline rush still working its way out and I reflected on what had happened. How important this job really was - and that there might be times, even in rural America, when someone’s life could be in my hands. I looked over at Ruth, who had for the most part let me handle the call. She had an ever so slight look of understanding on her face and then she said, “I think you’re going to do just fine.” Those words meant a lot to me coming from someone who had in just a few short training days become a mentor and a friend.

Thinking about what happened recently in Dodge City, my heart goes out to the officers, dispatchers and emergency responders who were involved.

Those who don those uniforms and go out each day are there to protect the communities they work in. They don’t get much pay for putting their lives on the line. For dealing with those who spit on them, throw up on them, punch and kick them, yell obscenities at them and yes, sometimes even try or even succeed in killing them. Did you know the average base salary for a police officer in Kansas is $46,665? That equates to $3,888.75 - before taxes are taken out. After taxes, which let’s say are around $9,245 (according to an Internet tax calculator program), that will leave said officer with around $36,756 a year or approximately $3,833 per month. For a 40-hour week that is about $22 per hour, $884 per week. That is $22 per hour to put your life on the line each and every day, not knowing if you will be returning to your family at the end of that day. 

I ultimately worked about 10 years in law enforcement as a dispatcher and detention officer in Colorado and Oklahoma. I’ve worked with some really good officers, and unfortunately, I’ve worked with and known some who should never have been given a badge. People seem to forget the one fundamental factor they all share - they are human. Not all of them are going to be a good fit for the job. Some of them will be great while others should never have even entered that career. Holding all accountable for what a few do, however, is wrong. The same can be said for any profession. Don’t include all in what a handful do or do not do.