Friday, January 12, 2018
The Loss of Two Friends
January has been a difficult month, and not because of the weather.
We've lost two local patriot heroes, members of America's Greatest Generation.
On January 3rd, Crestline's Stan Schneider, a Marine during the Second World War, passed away at the age of 96. This morning I awakened to news that Roy Walter, who served proudly in the United States Navy during the same war, had died.
The significance of the passing of these two patriot heroes is that I'd had the privilege of writing Stan and Roy's stories of military service for the Mansfield News Journal this past year; during these veteran interviews, developing a friendly relationship with the veterans I talk to is unavoidable, especially with the men who served in WW II. They're from a different time in this nation's history, a generation that was shocked into war by the despicable attack on Hawaii's Pearl Harbor naval base on December 7th, 1941. Though militarily sound from a Japanese perspective, the sneak attack and resultant wreckage of America's Pacific fleet enraged the nation; men young and old reported to military induction centers across the country in droves, eager to exact revenge on the Empire of Japan and her heinous ally in Europe, Nazi Germany. In many cases nationwide, men who were found physically unfit for military service committed suicide, unable to bear what they must have perceived as shame at being rejected by the Army, Navy and Marine Corps.
That was the mindset of their generation, because they all wanted to do their part in protecting America. They didn't seek out 'safe spaces' or run off to Canada to avoid serving. Even Charles Lindbergh, the hero of flight in America and an ardent anti-war isolationist prior to the Pearl Harbor attack, flew combat missions as a fighter pilot in the Pacific theater.
That makes a pretty good case for theirs being America's Greatest Generation, doesn't it?
By no means am I casting negative aspersions on later successors in America's military. I have an ardent, very high level of respect for anyone who saw combat or served our country in uniform; we ALL owe each and every one of them a debt of gratitude, one we can never repay, for their service, commitment and sacrifice.
I consider each of the men I've written about this past year as friends.
This month, I've lost two of them.
May God bless the souls of Roy Walter and Stan Schneider.
Wednesday, January 10, 2018
'Administrative Leave' Is No Vacation
Recently, four officers from the Mansfield Police Department were placed on administrative leave following a Christmas Eve officer-involved shooting, pending an internal investigation of the incident.
Administrative leave is a common practice at police agencies after officers are involved in a serious incident; after all, you wouldn't want officers on the street after they'd been involved in an event in which they may be culpable in a crime or serious violation of departmental policy and procedure. When placed on this leave, the coppers are paid their regular wages but they don't work the streets. Occasionally, men and women on AL will be assigned in-house duties, working within the department in positions that generally won't involve contact with the public, but in most cases they are paid to stay home.
Nonetheless, administrative leave is no vacation; I speak from experience.
Back in 1992 I was placed on AL after being compelled to use deadly force on an armed subject, a man who was drunk and had already fired a shot into the air amidst a large crowd in the parking lot of a bowling alley, just as responding officers had pulled into that lot after a fight complaint. After the man fled into a wooded area, he emerged in the rear yard of an apartment complex, fired a shot into the ground and then started to raise his weapon towards other officers. I fired one shot, hitting the man and putting him down. He survived and eventually spent eleven years in prison for his actions.
I am not proud of having been forced to fire on another human being.
The man was transported to a local hospital; my watch commander, Lt. Steve Sheldon (who is now Richland County's sheriff) relieved me of my weapon (per departmental guidelines) and a shift sergeant took me to the hospital for blood and urine samples. Again, common practice to ensure an officer involved in a use of deadly force isn't under the influence of drugs or alcohol.
Once back at the station, notifications were made to the Chief of Police, the Prosecutor's Office and the president of our local Fraternal Order of Police. Detectives from the Major Crimes Bureau were called in also and, as expected, wanted a statement. After conferring with union-provided counsel and telling him what had occurred, I'll never forget the man's words: "You tell them whatever they want to know. You did everything by the book." That attorney was Don Teffner; his words reinforced my conviction of having been justified in my actions, that I had fired to protect the lives of the five other officers on scene when the suspect had raised his handgun in their direction.
I gave my statement and was then sent home on administrative leave, after having been set up with an appointment to see a local psychologist the next morning. Regardless of what you see on TV cop shows, shooting someone is a traumatic psychological event; the session with the psychologist was to ensure I wasn't suffering 'problems', known today as Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.
Sleep evaded me for the next three nights.
The entire chain of events kept running through my mind like a bad movie. It churned over and over, sometimes in slow motion; though I knew I was justified, I'd been raised to respect the sanctity of life and being compelled to shoot someone didn't sit well with my religious beliefs. As a policeman, you know there's always a possibility you'll have to use deadly force in the line of duty, but when it actually happens your psyche may not be prepared for it. The event being in the news for days on end didn't help, so I stopped reading the paper and listening to local radio stations.
The departmental Shooting Review Board, as it was called back then, cleared me within the week after having reviewed the statements of the five other officers in addition to my own, as well as the physical and medical evidence. The only thing that awaited was the decision of a specially-convened Grand Jury after they, too, heard all the testimony and evidence.
Let me tell you now, there is no worse feeling for a police officer than sitting on a witness stand and being read your Constitutional rights by a prosecutor. I was the last to testify that day and, afterwards as I sat in a hallway outside the courtroom and awaited the Grand Jury's decision on a possible indictment, I was nervous. Even though I knew I had been right, even though the department had cleared me of any violations of policy and procedure, I was still nervous. As the old law enforcement saying goes, you never know what a jury will do.
The jury shortly returned a 'no bill', meaning there had been no grounds to indict me for a criminal offense. I had been cleared.
The day I went back to work was a huge relief, giving the feeling of being a part of the team again. During that week off, though I received many phone calls and a few visits from my brothers in blue, I still felt 'outside the circle'.
The four Mansfield PD officers went back to work a couple of days ago, so I can only assume they, too, have been cleared of any wrongdoing. They're back on the team, doing what they were meant to do.
And I am happy for them, knowing exactly how they felt during their stint on administrative leave.
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