Cop Under Fire

by David Clarke

  Going home doesn’t mean literally going back to the place where you were a kid. Sometimes, it means going back to the place you know you should be. When the prodigal son went home, he wasn’t sure what to expect. But you know how that story ends:

  He arose and came to his father. But when he was still a great way off, his father saw him and had compassion, and ran and fell on his neck and kissed him. And the son said to him, “Father, I have sinned against heaven and in your sight, and am no longer worthy to be called your son.”

  But the father said to his servants, “Bring out the best robe and put it on him, and put a ring on his hand and sandals on his feet. And bring the fatted calf here and kill it, and let us eat and be merry; for this my son was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.” And they began to be merry. (Luke 15:20–24 NKJV)

  The older brother, who’d stayed on the straight and narrow his whole life, resented the celebration. He complained to his father:

  These many years I have been serving you; I never transgressed your commandment at any time; and yet you never gave me a young goat, that I might make merry with my friends. But as soon as this son of yours came, who has devoured your livelihood with harlots, you killed the fatted calf for him. (Luke 15:29 NKJV)

  You can just hear the resentment dripping from his voice.

  The challenge of the modern American is to begin that journey home. That might mean literally getting in the car and making up with your spouse, going to your kids’ baseball games, taking a job you think is beneath you, or even sitting down and eating dinner together. It also might mean going back to the faith that your mother taught you, or apologizing for the thing you did that’s been separating you from the ones who love you.

  The challenge of modern political and religious leaders is to not be the older brother who resents that the younger brother has problems.

  Regardless of whether we are in the “stay put” crowd or the “go home” group, we all need to take assessment of life once we’re back at the house. The world doesn’t need a bunch of prodigal sons. The world doesn’t even really need a bunch of older brothers. Eventually, people have to grow up and mature. Your goal should be to become more like the father in this scenario. All of us—regardless of whether we’re parents—need to mature, extend our arms, and welcome the people in this culture who are desperately searching for the ever-elusive place called home.

  After all, America is merely a bunch of these homes seemingly connected by miles of dirt roads, blocks of city concrete, or just hallways in an apartment building. What really connects these homes into a larger collection that creates a nation has nothing to do with the type of house or the geographic location. What really connects us is our hope that we can do better.

  We can—and must—if our nation is to survive. It’s time to tune out the constant drumbeat trying to get us to leave the values we’ve long cherished. It’s time to turn off the Internet and our computer screens, to forget the hashtags, and to cherish the people right before us.

  It’s time to come home, America. The door is open for now. But if we keep maligning, criticizing, and complaining about each other, we might accidentally destroy the very nation many have called home for the past 240 years.

  The journey back won’t be easy, but it’s a path worth taking.

  11

  God Is Not the Enemy, but He’s Being Attacked

  “SHERIFF CLARKE?” a man said. I winced but tried to make sure he didn’t see it. Julie had gone to a different aisle to get bread. “I just wanted you to know I’m your biggest fan.”

  I’m very thankful that I’ve had opportunities and success as the Milwaukee County sheriff. I have to assume that God has put me in this position—one that usually doesn’t receive an inordinate amount of attention—for reasons I can’t possibly begin to understand. Normally, I’m very grateful for all of the love and support that people give me, but I’m not the guy who loves to be recognized, who needs constant accolades and praise. I’m just a foot soldier, not someone who wants to be in the spotlight. Honestly, it’s taken a bit to get used to being recognized in public, and sometimes I just want to get milk and go home.

  “Thank you, sir,” I said, nodding and moving toward the checkout line. That’s when Julie walked up and said, “Hello, how are you?”

  I couldn’t believe it. Why was she prolonging a conversation with a total stranger? One thing you have to know about my wife is that she is incredibly hardworking. Another is that she loves to chat with people.

  “Oh, I’ve just gotten off work,” he said.

  I started heading down the aisle when I heard my wife say, “Really? Where do you work?” The woman really doesn’t know how to cut off a conversation.

  By the time we got into the car, I was flummoxed.

  “Why did you stand there and talk and talk?” I asked.

  “It was five minutes,” she shot back.

  The criminals in Milwaukee never even look at me cross-eyed, but I can’t tell this little blonde woman anything. She said, “It’s called being nice. You should try it sometime.”

  On the silent drive home, the milk gathering condensation in the backseat, I wondered why she viewed the world so differently. Finally, I just pushed it out of my mind by thinking the one thing I think all the time: she’s not a cop; she wouldn’t understand.

  Hypervigilance Comes Naturally to Cops

  Have you ever heard a police officer say something on television or in a movie like this: “I’ll ask the questions, ma’am”? That’s because cops don’t like to be interrogated. The ones asking the questions are the ones with the power. If someone is asking you questions, you are at a disadvantage. Although people who come up to me mean well, it makes me start to bristle. “Did you just get off work?” might be an innocent way to initiate conversation. But a police officer would interpret that as someone trying to get potentially damaging schedule information. We notice things you never would. We’re trained to always observe the landscape for things out of place, suspicious activity that might need attention. And one suspicious thing is people asking too many questions.

  Every interaction activates cops’ sixth sense. It forms our reasonable suspicion that criminal activity may be afoot, that a person may be armed with a weapon and may plan to do us harm. Cops gain experience from constant exposure to this over time. When we do this for, say five to ten years, it becomes second nature. Though it could happen more quickly in urban or high crime areas because of constant exposure, most cops will tell you it takes about five years to become seasoned or truly experienced. This state of constant observation causes us to be hypervigilant, something that could very well save an officer’s life. Imagine what I’m like after thirty-eight years of this.

  It sometimes drives Julie crazy. Frequently, she’ll be telling me a story, and I’ll immediately start poking holes in it.

  “What do you mean exactly?” I might ask. “I just don’t see how that story adds up.”

  That’s when I see the hurt in her eyes and wish I had never said a word.

  “I was just trying to tell you what my friend told me about her shopping experience at the mall,” she might say. “I didn’t realize I had to meet some sort of standard like I’m presenting to a jury.”

  She’s right, of course, but I can’t seem to help myself. People lie to police officers so much, we never believe the first thing that comes out of someone’s mouth. We expect deception and try to head it off. When Julie starts talking, I don’t think, Okay, David, don’t find any faults in this. Just listen and nod. Instead, my cop nature kicks in and I think, What’s wrong with this story, this statement? I’m not in other cops’ homes, but I’ve heard other officers say that they sometimes interrogate their kids instead of having a conversation with them. Julie would probably agree that I have that tendency with her.

  “Every time I tell you a story,” she laments, “you try to find something that’s not believable about it.”

  We don’t
have to think about being hypervigilant. We just are. Always. The hypervigilance stays activated and doesn’t turn off at the end of a tour of duty. That takes its toll on cops’ physical, mental, and emotional health. Even off duty, we process everything with a tinge of suspicion. We look for what might not be right about something. Suspicion is good when we’re looking at evidence and suspects, but it can be problematic with family and friends. If we’re not conscious of it, we’ll become cynical about everything.

  I always stand with my right hip away from people when I talk because that’s where I keep my weapon holstered. For almost four decades, I’ve been aware of weapon retention, so it’s become second nature to turn slightly away from people when talking. Do people perceive this interview stance to be stand-offish? Perhaps, but it’s just a natural by-product of training. All humans need personal space, but cops tend to keep people at arm’s length. We let in only certain people. Spouses and kids, of course, don’t have to ask to invade personal space. But we don’t want anyone else in there. We’re trained to survive in the field. When a random guy at the grocery store puts his hand on my arm, I realize I can’t easily turn it off.

  It should surprise no one that cops are profane. If a cop can trust you with his life, he’s going to assume he can trust that you won’t be overly sensitive about language. Instead of saying, “Move over, please,” a cop might phrase the request to his partner in a much harsher, even vulgar, way. It’s just the way some police officers communicate. The challenge is that a cop might slip and say something like this in off-duty life and seem incredibly rude.

  It’s natural for officers to begin to withdraw from people who don’t understand why we are the way we are, and for many cops to exclusively hang out with our own kind. For better or worse—or like most things, both—a circle-the-wagons mentality sets in. Hanging out with other officers cuts through a lot of the hassle of relationships. Cops understand each other so we don’t have to spend a lot of time explaining our unique proclivities.

  I have rarely hung out with other cops off duty. I’ve never been on cop bowling leagues, or dart leagues, or participated in card game socials. That wasn’t by design; I just had different interests. That separation helped but did not totally cure me from that state of hypervigilance. I’m more hypervigilant today after all my years of service than I’ve ever been. The politics of my job taught me that politics is a cutthroat business.

  In early May 2006, George Papachristou, a former Milwaukee police officer who was involved in a deadly-use-of-force incident, contacted me with an idea. He told me about a new faith-based support group he was organizing for police officers.

  Papachristou’s organization was faith-based, nondenominational, and strictly voluntary. You could be a Christian, belong to another faith, or have no faith at all. Elmbrook Church in Brookfield, Wisconsin, sponsored the group designed to help police officers deal with their unique set of concerns, habits, and problems. The suicide rate for police officers is three times the rate for civilians, as are the rates of alcoholism and divorce. Police officers have life expectancies ten years less than the average person. It was intriguing to me that a new group existed to provide emotional and physical support for police to receive the understanding and help they need.

  Roll Call and Community Groups

  We hold roll call every morning at the office when all of the officers on shift duty get together to make sure everyone is on the same page about crime trends and are properly equipped. I’d gotten in the habit of inviting groups from the community into our office during roll call to inspire my officers. Some of these groups have a faith element while others do not. Over the course of my time as sheriff, we had a number of organizations meet with us.

  In other words, I didn’t care about the religious background or political viewpoint of the group. I just cared whether it could inspire police officers. I wanted them to hear the best of a wide variety of views. After all, if we protect freedom, I believe in practicing freedom. One of the groups I invited was the Centurions.

  The Centurions—a reference to cops as guardians—dealt specifically with the concerns and struggles of police officers and served as a peer support group. And so, they presented to the officers throughout the month, offering encouragement and advice. Two police officers—Ilir Sino (a Muslim) and Mark Zidek (a Catholic)—didn’t like these presentations. They and their union, the Milwaukee Deputy Sheriffs’ Association, brought an action against Captain Edward Bailey and me in our official capacities, as well as Milwaukee County.1 They claimed listening to the Centurions’ talk during roll call was a violation of the establishment clause and the free exercise clause of the First Amendment. Not only did they seek an injunction to prevent future presentations from the Centurions at department events; they sought damages. Imagine my reaction. No good deed goes unpunished.

  I didn’t understand why it was a big deal. If I had refused to let the Centurions speak based solely on their religious point of view, I’d be violating their rights, correct? Besides, no one says things that everyone likes. We don’t have a right not to be offended, and if the officers disliked the message one day, they may love a different speaker the next day. I argued that the First Amendment’s free speech clause provided a defense to the establishment clause claim. How could I possibly be violating the cops’ rights when I wasn’t discriminating in my speaker choices? Is religious speech actually disfavored in this country? Do the religious have fewer rights than the nonreligious?

  When both sides filed motions for summary judgment, the district court sided with the plaintiffs, and the Seventh Circuit Court of Appeals affirmed. Turns out, Judge Ann Claire Williams—who happened to be appointed by Ronald Reagan—was not happy with me. In her opinion, she wrote that “the Centurions also provided a benefit to the officers in the form of a support group. But their unique faith-based approach sets them apart from the secular organizations invited to speak. The Centurions offered peer support, but also sought to foster discussion on how the officers could ‘impact others for Christ’ and on Christ’s impact in their lives.” She went on to write:

  In this case, the Centurions gave a heavily Christian-focused presentation at a mandatory conference for government employees, and the Sheriff subsequently invited them to present at mandatory roll calls during work hours, granting them unfiltered access to a captive audience of subordinates. At each roll call, they were personally introduced by the Sheriff’s command staff and were permitted to distribute additional Christian-focused literature. Even more telling was the Sheriff’s refusal to cease the presentations after some of the deputies complained of the Centurions’ proselytizing. He took no steps to disentangle himself or the Department from any of the religious messages, … and his actions, at the least, appeared to place the Centurions in the same category as the other “partnering” organizations, like Johnson’s Bike Company—all of whom presumably received the Department’s approval.2

  The court awarded the plaintiffs $38,687.41 in attorneys’ fees. Thankfully, they only awarded $1 in damages to each plaintiff. The case had taken so much of a toll on me that I had to talk to my spiritual advisor who, at the time, was the archbishop of Milwaukee and is now the cardinal of the New York diocese.

  Though I lost this case, I learned important lessons, and I’m still fighting. Unfortunately, we live in an era when some people will make even God the enemy. This is particularly sad, since God is the only answer to our deep-seated concerns and issues. With my own eyes I’ve seen God make a difference in cops’ lives. It makes no sense to discriminate against the Christian message. It’s an injustice. Supreme Court Justice Clarence Thomas said it might be time to revisit this case.

  One thing is certain. The legal battle that I went through gave me much compassion and appreciation for Christians who are fighting for their rights in legal battles that will help determine the flavor and shape of our nation in years to come. People are losing their businesses and facing heavy fines because they live out their
faith. And if you think that these stories are the exception, and that you are immune to this type of discrimination, you are wrong. Three examples tell the concerning condition of religious freedom in this nation.

  The ACLU Loves You,

  The ACLU Loves You Not …

  Barronelle Stutzman has been a florist in Richland, Washington, for three decades. During that time, she’s met many people—both customers and employees—but one client in particular stood out. Customer Rob Ingersoll loved flowers the way that Barronelle did, with the eye of an artist.

  “We see not just potential bouquets, but how different combinations and just-right arrangements can bring a special beauty, memories and even a little humor to someone’s birthday, anniversary—or wedding,” she said. “For 10 years, we encouraged that artistry in each other.”3

  Barronelle knew Rob was gay; he knew she was a Christian. Their differences weren’t a hindrance to their friendship. Baronelle had employed people who identified as gay. But one day Rob came in and told her that he was getting married to his same-sex partner and wanted her to design something special for their wedding.

  “If all he’d asked for were prearranged flowers, I’d gladly have provided them. If the celebration were for his partner’s birthday, I’d have been delighted to pour my best into the challenge. But as a Christian, weddings have a particular significance,” she explained. “Marriage does celebrate two people’s love for one another, but its sacred meaning goes far beyond that. Surely without intending to do so, Rob was asking me to choose between my affection for him and my commitment to Christ. As deeply fond as I am of Rob, my relationship with Jesus is everything to me.”

  She wasn’t ashamed of her faith, but she described that conversation as one of the most difficult of her life. She gave him the names of three other florists who would create something beautiful for him and his partner, Curt Freed. Rob told Barronelle that he understood, and she believed they parted as friends.