Читать книгу The Injustice of Justice - Donald Grady II - Страница 8

“The basic mission for which the police exist is to prevent crime and disorder as an alternative to the repression of crime and disorder by military force and severity of legal punishment.”

—Sir Robert Peel

The following Thursday, I got up early, put on my jogging clothes, and forced myself down the stairs and out the door. I was sore all over and just getting out of bed hurt beyond belief. I was never a great athlete and the pain in my legs reminded me why. Still, I’d promised myself I’d work to get back into shape, and I’d started a program over the weekend.

Groaning, I limped to the sidewalk, raised my right leg, but had to put it down straightaway. Man, did that hurt. I winced, grabbed my upper thigh, and rubbed vigorously, hoping the pain would go away, but no such luck. This was not going to be fun. This was supposed to be a cardio day but, if my legs didn’t cooperate any better than this, my heart wasn’t going to get much of a workout.

I tried again, this time a little more slowly and a bit more deliberately. There would be no running today. A very cautious jog was about all I could hope for. I remembered that if you do something for 90 days, it becomes a habit, but this change thing wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. Ninety days? I wasn’t likely to make the next 90 seconds. Running wasn’t going to be one of my habits if it didn’t get any better than this. But okay, just one more step, then another, and another, just one more step.

Making my way back into the house was more of a chore than I could’ve imagined. I struggled out of my clothes and sat on the floor of the shower letting the water gently massage my head and neck, although it was my legs and butt that needed massaging. I got dressed, grabbed a cookie, and then put it back, realizing I’d have to run that much longer tomorrow if I actually ate the thing. God forbid. I stood in the kitchen, staring at nothing and listening to the silence a few moments, then headed to the garage. I’d arranged to see Dylan this morning and it was about time I got going.

I arrived at the chief’s office a little earlier than scheduled, feeling none the better for having simulated a jog. After the fiasco I experienced trying to get to the Chamber meeting last week, I had decided not to take any chances and left my office a little sooner than necessary.

When I got there, I stepped inside the outer office. It was deathly quiet with the exception of the muted clicking of typing. The woman stationed there was intently focused on something at her computer. She glanced in my direction, gave a quick smile, but continued typing. After a couple of uncomfortable moments, I introduced myself.

“Good morning,” I said. “I’m Alan Pearson and I have an eleven o’clock appointment with Chief Dylan.”

She briefly held up one finger, typed for another moment, then paused and examined what she’d written. “I’m sorry,” she said, smiling as she stood and offered her hand. “I was right in the middle of a sentence and I needed to complete it before I lost my train of thought. And yes, it is a good morning,” she continued. “I’m Sheri, Chief Dylan’s assistant. If you’d like to have a seat, I’ll let him know you’re here. It’ll probably be a few minutes; he’s on a conference call, but he shouldn’t be much longer. He’s expecting you.”

“Thanks,” I replied. I meandered around the reception area, inspecting the prints hanging on the walls and the layout of the room. I was too nervous to sit down. My palms were sweaty and my stomach was doing back flips. I knew there was no legitimate reason for being so nervous, but there I was, feeling like a kid clinging to my mother’s leg on my first day of school. Sheri finished writing something, and then went into the chief’s office, presumably to let him know I was waiting.

“Did these come from the library?” I asked when she came back, pointing to a particularly nice piece of artwork.

“Oh, no,” she said, shaking her head as if she were moderately amused. “These belong to the chief. Beautiful, aren’t they? The mayor wouldn’t even give us the money to buy some of those cheap posters you see in most city buildings. Prior to the chief, the office was filled with old black-and-white photos of ex-police chiefs and the typical police paraphernalia.”

She laughed as she told me how ugly and drab the office used to be. “I used to dread coming to work; now I love it. The place was completely without color. It had no life. You know what I mean? I don’t think anybody wanted to be here. It showed, too. But it wasn’t just the building; it was everything. Everybody in the place had an attitude and most of them were pretty bad. Even the visitors had attitudes. Now when people come in, they bring their kids. Look,” she said, picking up a children’s reader from the coffee table and holding it out for me to see. “Children’s books and magazines—can you imagine that? If you go into the squad areas, you’ll find these huge posters of the officers’ kids all over the place. In the pictures, the kids are playing and having a good old time. No one dreamed of doing anything like that before Chief Dylan came,” she said, adding, “it was his idea.”

It was obvious Sheri was having fun with this. She pointed to a print as she walked across the room, and told me it was her favorite. “It’s a papyrus of the Final Judgment,” she said. “It’s the chief’s favorite, too. He brought it back from Egypt.” She was telling me how the person standing in judgment had to have a heart lighter than a feather or they couldn’t pass, but would instead suffer an unpleasant fate, when the chief stepped out of his office. Sheri interrupted herself. Still smiling, she ushered me over to the chief.

As we entered his office, I said to him, “This is really quite nice.” His office was extremely well appointed, tastefully decorated, and there were several compelling pieces of art on his walls, too. There was a noticeable absence of clutter on his desk. Everything was neat and orderly, nothing out of place or askew. In an attempt at being humorous—obviously nervous humor—I said, “You do realize, of course, that an office this neat isn’t normal? Some say a clean desk is a sign of a sick mind!”

Chief Dylan smiled. “It’s not the first time someone has suggested I might be something other than normal.”

I’d fully expected to find an office with a metal desk, a couple of well-worn chairs, and a shallow carpet of dust covering it all. Instead, I found an oasis of corporate opulence. Of course, if I’d used my head, I would’ve been able to predict the chief’s office would look this way. I guess old habits die hard—old stereotypes, too.

Chief Dylan was dressed impeccably. I knew it would be impolite, but I wanted desperately to ask who the designer was. Whoever it was had included hand-stitching around the collar of his jacket. The chief wore a crisp white shirt with French cuffs and an exquisite silk tie. Even his socks were elegant. I suddenly realized I wasn’t nervous any more. I’d relaxed and was completely at ease.

Chief Dylan sat in a chair next to the one he offered me. I’d expected him to sit behind his desk, which was huge, but only partially concealed an extremely comfortable-looking overstuffed leather chair.

“Sheri told me the artwork in the outer office belongs to you.”

“Yes, it does,” he said, “as do all the things you see in here.” He rotated from one side to the other as he motioned around the room with both hands held out just above shoulder height.

“All of it?” I asked.

“All of it,” he replied. “Some of the stuff the officers had before was in pretty poor condition. So I gave them the furnishings from this office and bought my own. The way I figure it, I spend twelve to fourteen hours a day in this building. I might as well be comfortable.”

“It certainly is that,” I was thinking to myself, when I realized I wasn’t thinking it, I was saying it out loud. Chief Dylan flashed me a toothy smile and said, “So what’s on your mind, Alan?”

“Well,” I replied, “one of my employees got into trouble a little while back and ended up in prison. He and I both realize what happened was wrong, and he’s accepted the consequences. But it got me to thinking about this whole criminal justice thing and the impact it has on all of us. That’s why I came to hear you speak the other night. It seems something is terribly wrong, but I don’t know exactly what it is. I thought perhaps you could provide me with some insight and point me in a direction that will help me understand the system better.”

He raised an eyebrow and said, “To tell you the truth, Alan, I’m just as confused as you are. You see, we have so much potential, but we don’t use it. We could do so much if only we’d try. Do you know what potential is?” he asked.

“Of course I do,” I said, “It’s having the power or ability to do some given thing. Basically, it’s an expression of possibility.”

“That’s very good,” he said. “Expression of possibility is the key. Potential, simply put, is nothing more than unused ability. If you have the potential to do something, it’s intimated that you haven’t actually done it yet. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“I suppose it does at that… yeah, I agree.”

“Therein lies part of the problem,” he said. “We’re so busy reveling in our high-tech potential that we’ve forgotten to put it to work in the criminal justice arena. We do a good job in the field of medicine, in space exploration and in the development of information systems. But we don’t apply the same energies to the work of policing. What I do is policing, and policing is community building.”

“You said that the other night.”

“I’ve been known to repeat myself on occasion,” he said, grinning. “Forgive me if you’ve heard this before. But, as I was saying, we’ve been entirely too focused on forcing the use of technology in policing and we haven’t spent nearly enough energy developing new processes.

“People aren’t as involved as they should be with the police, and current police conventions are antiquated. Police work can’t be done in a vacuum, Alan. And it can’t be done without thinking about the implications and consequences for the future. We have to be insightful enough to find solutions for next year’s problems today. The difficulties associated with today’s crime and disorder issues require a criminal justice solution that considers its effects on our tomorrows. Remember the Chamber meeting the other night? I told the group that Sir Francis Bacon once said: ‘It would be an unsound fancy and self-contradictory to expect that things which have never yet been done can be except by means which have never yet been tried’?”

“Yeah…”

“Well, if you think about it, you’ll realize that our possibilities are endless, provided we don’t restrain ourselves with arbitrary boundaries predicated on history or convention. Unfortunately, that’s exactly what we’ve done with criminal justice and—in particular—policing. If you want a different result, you have to do something different. We’ve tried precious little in policing by comparison to our talents. Instead, we generally allow ourselves to be ruled or controlled by the conventional thinking of the time. We tend to adhere to the predictions of individuals who rely on the past as a precursor for the future. We’ve developed a mindset akin to that of sheep. We allow ourselves to be herded mindlessly in a kind of chauvinistic devotion, having no idea of where we’re going.” Chief Dylan paused for a moment, then he asked, “Have you noticed that there are no pictures of previous police chiefs in my office or the reception area?”

“Sheri pointed that out when I first got here,” I said. “She told me there used to be a lot of pictures and police stuff on the walls and shelves.”

“That’s right. The entire operation was focused on the past. Past practices, past chiefs, past association presidents—all past tense.

“Alan, people have an innate fear and distrust of anything unfamiliar. As a result, we tend to resist change and limit ourselves to activities that we’ve previously undertaken. We seem to have a need to hold on to remnants of the past, to embrace the comfortable and familiar, even to extol it as if it were better because of its familiarity. Tradition guides our predilections, and the willingness by some to transcend tradition provokes disdain in others.

“However, this inexorable need to have such close connections to the past may severely limit our ability to positively affect the future. And our future is likely to be amazingly different than our past. It will undoubtedly engender a whole range of issues and circumstances requiring substantially new levels of thought and understanding.

“An extrapolist would have us believe that the future can be reasonably predicted by analyzing events of the past. But I’m here to tell you that, in light of new technologies, increased personal mobility, and dwindling resources, that perspective is somewhat suspect. The Industrial Age has been succeeded by an age of information, and the models and systems that worked in Industrial Age societies can no longer be counted on as reliable predictors for conditions likely to arise during this millennium. We can no longer afford to isolate ourselves in the past while trying to make predictions about the future.”

“Chief, you’re not suggesting that history isn’t important and that we should somehow attempt to move into the future without the benefits of the past, are you?”

“Of course I’m not,” he said. “What I’m suggesting is that our willingness to ground ourselves in the erroneous beliefs of the past may cause us to miss some wonderful opportunities. For example, the global population generally recalled the many failed attempts at flight and concluded that flight for humans was impossible. Two brothers, however, viewed the various aborted attempts, not as proof of the human inability to fly, but rather as evidence that particular methods were not conducive to flight. They then used the information on how not to fly to assist them in identifying ways more probable to lead to flight.

“On December 17, 1903, the Wright brothers managed to fly just a few short feet, staying in the air a mere twelve seconds. Those few feet of flight resulted in a significant global paradigm shift. People, in reality, could fly. Finally freed from the historical obstacle of failure and disbelief, people were now prepared to improve the process. Sixty-six years later we walked on the moon. Just 66 years later! Now, we regularly circumnavigate the planet, docking with satellites from other nations, and return to Earth in reusable aircraft. So, you see, we’ve always had the potential to fly. Remember what I told you about potential? It’s nothing more than unused ability. What we lacked was the knowledge as to how and the belief in ourselves that we could.

“So I’m not suggesting that historic events be discarded as unimportant or irrelevant. I am merely suggesting that we be more discriminating and critical of past circumstances, giving them only that credence that is suitable to a particular situation of the present, in light of its potential for the future. We sometimes view past events as either proving or disproving the things around us. In reality, they should be reflected upon as transient conditions that offer value consistent only with the conclusions drawn from them to future circumstances.”

“Point well taken,” I said. “It’s not the history; it’s what we do with it.”

“Exactly,” he said. “Information is a double-edged sword, capable of setting us free or binding us by our knowledge. We have to make good use of our knowledge and information, understanding when to let go of what we think we know in favor of what we may know. We should also look for opportunities to include others in decision-making processes and to appreciate disagreement. If every time one of us speaks the other nods in affirmation, one of us is unnecessary. Each one of us is compelled then to offer and evaluate alternatives to find the best of the available options.

“We need to help our criminal justice professionals find new directions. We must learn to approach our problems differently and recognize that many of our current difficulties have originated from outdated models. Change is recognized as the one constant in the universe, yet we spend an inordinate amount of time resisting it. Isn’t it funny how we do that?

“The time for change, Alan, is now! We can ill afford to wait for a time when it feels better. Every day women are being battered, and people are being assaulted, murdered, raped, and robbed! Children are being beaten, sexually assaulted and taken from their families! Every—single—day! There are injustices in our courts. Offenders are abused within the corrections system and persecuted once they get out. The human tragedy continues, and more for reasons of comfort than anything else.

“The whole of the criminal justice system has been slow to change because change is uncomfortable. But tell me, what could be more uncomfortable than being raped? What could be more uncomfortable than having your son stolen and not knowing what indignities or horrors he may have been forced to endure? What could be more uncomfortable than being robbed, having a gun shoved in your face, having your home burglarized, or being beaten senseless because someone didn’t like your race or perceived sexual orientation? What could be more uncomfortable than having your rights or the rights of others abused? You tell me what could be more uncomfortable.”

I was completely dumbfounded. Everything he said was right on, and it was so simple. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t thought it out for myself. Even before Donnie went to prison, I knew the system wasn’t what it should be. I guess I just didn’t care enough to get involved. That’s the way of things, isn’t it? We don’t care until it affects someone we love.

Chief Dylan was on a roll. He continued by saying, “We have to develop a willingness to not only accept change but to regard it as an ally. We’re being pushed into a future of uncertainty. If we’re to take advantage of new opportunities, we need to change directions with ever-increasing speed and frequency. The current system is self-perpetuating and ensures the continuation of the indignities of the past we see to this day. We need a well-designed system based on doing the right thing, one developed with understanding.”

Chief Dylan was eloquently articulate. He reminded me of a preacher. As he talked, he used his hands to magnify the importance of his words. Sometimes his voice was almost a whisper, although not one you’d ever have to strain to hear and, as he became more passionate, his voice thundered with the force of his conviction. He was intense, and it wasn’t hard to tell he believed everything he said. This wasn’t idle chatter filled with popular platitudes and rhetoric. It was a revelation. I needed answers and I knew now I’d come to the right place to get them.

“We who call ourselves criminal justice professionals simply must begin to think creatively,” he said, “to take risks in developing solutions to problems in the designing of effective preventive mechanisms. We need to be managers sufficiently empowered to act in the best interest of the people, and we have to empower each citizen to take an active role in the development of future systems. The system needs to become one of acknowledged interdependence. It must be a true partnership where average people are as important as the police officer, the judge, the correctional worker, or the aftercare specialist. Information must necessarily be shared among us unselfishly in every direction. The fear and distrust some members of our society have of the system must be converted into respect and understanding. The lines and levels of communication must be opened and enhanced so we can solve our collective problems collectively.

“Change tends to be difficult, and it often comes with a heavy price tag. Consternation is a natural by-product of change, and individuals working for change sometimes become highly visible and accessible targets. Not much incentive for becoming a change agent, huh?” Chief Dylan stood and walked over to his desk. He opened the middle drawer and pulled out a handful of change. “Would you care for something to drink?” he asked.

“Sure,” I said, “what are my choices?”

“There’s always coffee; after all, this is a police station and some things never change.” We both laughed. “You can also have tea, Coke, Pepsi, diet Coke, Sprite, or pink lemonade.”

“I’ll have a pink lemonade.”

“Good choice. I think I’ll have one, too,” he said.

As he left the room, I heard him tell Sheri he was getting us something to drink.

“I just had something a little while ago,” she said. “How’s it going in there?”

He was moving away when he said, “That’s a question better posed to Alan. He’s the one looking for answers.”

Sheri poked her head through the door and said, “Finding what you’re looking for?”

“And more,” I replied. Sheri walked over near the bookcases and picked up a small piece of lint from the floor. “When he answers your questions, he doesn’t just provide an answer; he gives you an underlying philosophy,” she remarked.

Chief Dylan strolled back through the door. “Here you go,” he said, handing me an ice-cold lemonade. He looked at Sheri, gave a sly smile and said, “None for you.”

Sheri quickly turned, flipped her head slightly and gave a squeaky, deliberately effeminate sort of “Humph” as she pretended to storm out of the room, closing the door behind her. I couldn’t help laughing.

The chief just stood there looking at the closed door. Then he turned to me and said, “What?” as if he had somehow been personally injured. He cracked a smile and said, “Back to it, then. We don’t have much time left, but perhaps we can squeeze in a couple more questions if I can keep my responses a bit more succinct.”

“Good,” I said, “because I’d like you to identify some problem areas in the system and what you believe needs to be done to fix them. I mean, what are we doing about crime?”

“This may not be the best analogy I’ve ever used, but crime is similar in some ways to an infestation,” he said. “Whenever I use this analogy it generally makes it easier for the person I’m talking with to see that the methods we’ve been using to eradicate crime are fallible, so bear with me for a minute. Look, we’ve been trying to rid our communities of this ‘infestation’ by standing on the periphery, attempting to catch the bad guys one at a time as they become problematic enough to pop up on our radar. Then, we haphazardly use aggressive enforcement tactics, zero tolerance strategies, and dedicated warrant services, hoping to get lucky enough to arrest and/or incarcerate an unusually large number of violators. Those we don’t catch we’re satisfied to push into the surrounding communities. Unfortunately, such endeavors merely remove or displace the problem temporarily. You see, those we incarcerate eventually get out, and the displaced return as soon as conditions are favorable. Additionally, others will attempt to fill the vacuum left by those we’ve jailed or pushed out, exploiting what they see as an open market. So, while aggressive policing may produce an impressive short-term reduction in crime, long-term the offenders return and so do the problems. We simply can’t hope to rid ourselves of criminality by standing on the outside of the problem, hoping for an opportunity to eliminate one or more of the contributors on the off chance we’ll get lucky enough to catch them after the fact.”

“Crime has been with us forever,” I said. “Nothing we’ve done or are likely to do is going to stop all the burglars, thieves, and social deviants from doing what it is they do. So are you telling me you have a solution to end all crime? I mean, what can anyone do that’ll really make a difference?”

“You’re right,” Dylan replied, “we may never completely eliminate all unwanted behaviors, and no, I don’t have a solution to eliminate all crime. But we can eliminate some crimes and greatly reduce the incidence of others. Now, it’s important to remember that the commission of a crime is a behavior, and it’s the behavior we want to eliminate—not the people. This can be accomplished, at least in part, by radically and permanently altering the environment so the surroundings and conditions are no longer conducive to deviant behavior.”

“How do we do that?” I asked.

“By either eliminating or mitigating the opportunity,” he said. “If we minimize the opportunity to commit a crime, then we’ll minimize all related criminal behavior as well. And one simple way to do that is by increasing the possibility of detection. If we increase the number of people that report suspicious activities, utilize appropriate technology, detection devices, and warning systems, we necessarily increase the possibility of detection. The bad guys count on people turning their heads and looking the other way. Identify the offender and you’ll increase the potential for apprehension, incarceration, and successful prosecutions, all post-event. However, if you eliminate or reduce the opportunity for crime, you’ll also eliminate or reduce its occurrence. It’s important to reinforce the notion of prevention because there’s so much we can do with time and space to limit the potential for criminality.

“There’s an equation regarding crime that seems to have all but disappeared as a relevant factor from modern policing. Means + Motive + Opportunity = Crime. Traditional policing methodologies wait for the left side of the equation to fulfill itself before attempting to do something about the right. This is an ill-founded prescription and it just plain doesn’t work. While trying to figure out ‘who done it’ may be an interesting and clever game idea, it makes for lousy policing. The police use the equation primarily as a way of explaining to new officers the factors necessary for crime to exist or as a method to assist in identifying likely suspects. Its greater value, however, is in helping us understand the most effective course to reduce the potential for crime.

“We learned in basic mathematics that whatever you do to one side of an equation necessarily affects the other. If we reduce any one or all of the factors necessary to produce crime—the left side of the equation—we necessarily reduce the incidence of crime on the right, thus prevention, not apprehension.

“The most salient factor on the left side of the equation and the one most susceptible to immediate intervention is Opportunity. By reducing the level of opportunity, we necessarily reduce the amount of resulting crime. Using this model, the police practitioner—in cooperation with the community—can identify appropriate intervention measures to reduce the level of opportunity immediately while further working to mitigate circumstances that give individuals the means or motives to undertake acts of criminality over the long term. Educating people to practice personal safety and to accept responsibility for the safety and security of their own persons and property is critical to effective crime prevention. Working together is our best protection from those who are inclined to take advantage of the uninformed and the unaware.

“It’s difficult to believe people are ready to accept personal responsibility for helping reduce crime. However, it’s individuals who are victimized and it’s the individual who’s in the best position to minimize his or her susceptibility to crime.

“I’m only beginning to understand the interconnectedness of things myself. I used to work, unilaterally, on finding solutions to what appeared to be the problem—the symptoms—never considering the implications for others or the impact others might have on the issue. I failed to examine the cause. I only looked at the effect and who was affected, not what effect they could have. Now I recognize the potential peripheral consequences that altering any part of any system may have on other parts of the system. I also recognize the need to identify the causation and not a mere symptom. I see everything as being inextricably tied. As we progress, we’re likely to become even more dependent upon one another.”

“You already know the kinds of problems the police have working with the people in this community. There’s an overwhelming strain between the police and the minorities here,” I interjected. “Getting people to work together and to accept individual responsibility sounds good, but that requires trust. And we don’t trust each other, partly due to personal biases and partly because of a lack of knowledge and understanding of each other.”

“I can’t argue with any of that,” Dylan said. “I can only tell you the future shows promise, but we’re going to have to be careful to ensure that biases from our past don’t follow us into the future. Our determination to cling to past assumptions could block important advances. For example, myths and stereotypes regarding race, ethnicity, or gender inequalities need to be eradicated. Comparatively speaking, we’re just beginning to appreciate the need for parity among all people and the benefits that may result. We’ve only begun to realize the importance of inter-cultural development in policing. The minorities of our nation should be viewed as assets and not as an infringement on an overburdened welfare system. We must develop a willingness to educate ourselves, to speak other languages, to learn other customs and to appreciate—even revere—different perspectives.

“But I want to shift gears and touch on the drug problem, if you don’t mind. We’re running close on time, but I just wanted to say something briefly about drugs.”

“I don’t mind at all. I know we’ve gone over a lot and I appreciate it. I’m sorry to keep bugging you, but right now I’m a sponge. I’ll take whatever you’re willing to give, so please go on.”

“This’ll be short. Part of our problem with trust is wrapped up in this drug thing,” the chief said. “This nation is experiencing significant increases in addictive and violent behaviors. Minorities have been pegged, unfairly I might add, with being more involved and pretty much responsible for drugs across the country. But drugs are not a minority problem. We have to acknowledge that and take the problems associated with the production and distribution of illicit drugs, both nationally and internationally, more seriously. Oh, we think we’re serious. After all, we’ve declared war on drugs; we’re losing, but we’re still fighting. Unfortunately, drugs haven’t gone away and the war is hurting us all.

“The drug trade contributes significantly to the impoverished conditions of certain segments of our society. The elimination or mitigation of the flow of drugs into our communities should allow for greater stability and normalization of activities more conducive to a healthy environment. We desperately need a concerted effort to eradicate the illegal manufacture, distribution, and use of drugs in our communities. But jailing the addict is not the solution. That proposition has us merely standing on the periphery again. There are currently more people in American jails and prisons than the Soviet Union incarcerated at the height of Communism.”

“Chief, what are we doing about problems associated with the use of handguns? Guns and drugs seem to go together.”

“Not a whole lot,” he admitted. “At some point, we have to realize the folly of participating in a mini-arms race. The number, capability, and production of small arms accessible to the general population are causes for concern. Our children are killing each other with guns. They seem to think a gun is an acceptable manner by which to resolve disputes. We need to reverse the trend of violence and promote a sense of compassion and unity as we provide one another with a better understanding of—and respect for—life. We need to provide our children with alternative conflict resolution mechanisms and limited access to the more destructive implements.

“If we’re to flourish in this millennium, we must learn from our experiences and adapt more rapidly to changing conditions. We need to develop an understanding of conflict that allows us to view it as an opportunity to engage in creative thinking rather than an excuse to engage in violence. We must learn to live with each other, inspiring hope, dignity, and respect for one another. Our future is dependent on our willingness to embrace our differences—good or bad, rich or poor, black or white, mothers, fathers, sons and daughters—with pride and compassion, with trust and belief and with benevolent reverence. We have to learn to treat others the way we want them to treat us, to love them, and accept their love in return. The people we lock away will most likely get out someday. What happens then? What are we doing to prepare them and ourselves for their return? Prisons are the number one growth industry in America today, and that speaks volumes about the people occupying this nation.”

There was a knock at the door. Sheri peered in as she pushed her way through the portal. “Chief, you have a meeting at City Hall in about 30 minutes,” she said.

“Thank you,” he replied, but the door was already closing and Sheri had disappeared from sight. He raised himself from his chair and started across the room.

“I guess that’s my cue,” I said, standing. “I want to thank you for taking time to talk with me. You’ve given me a lot of good information. Unfortunately, the more answers I get, the more questions I have.”

The chief was rummaging through some files, apparently selecting the ones he needed for the meeting. He was putting his selections in his briefcase when he said, “It’s funny how that works. If you’d like, we can talk again. I’ll arrange for you to attend a couple of classes at the academy that may be of some benefit, and I think it would be good for you to talk with a couple of my friends, like Judge Archuleta and Superintendent Joe Thomas of the Department of Corrections, to get their perspectives. Here, let me get you their numbers.” He shifted his attention to another drawer. “I’ll give them a call to introduce you,” he said as he retrieved a couple of business cards from the drawer he was rummaging through.

“That’d be great. I’d really appreciate it,” I said. “I’m sure they’ll be able to help me understand the system better.”

He wrote down the numbers and handed them over. “I’ll give you a call in a couple of days, once I’ve set things up for the classes, okay?”

“All right,” I said. I shook his hand and started to leave. I paused momentarily, turning back to face him. “Chief, I want you to know how much I appreciate this.”

“Thanks, Alan. I’ve enjoyed talking with you, and I appreciate your listening. It’s refreshing to talk to someone interested enough in what the police do to take the time out of a busy schedule to learn more about it. You’re to be commended.”

I liked the idea of talking to the judge and the superintendent of prisons. I was feeling immensely gratified, yet somewhat overwhelmed. This was becoming quite a project. I stopped to speak momentarily with Sheri, and then left the office to begin a quiet, thoughtful drive home.