The Risks and Realities of Policing in America (and Why They Matter to You and Me)
In Honor of Austin Derek Aldridge. End of Watch: Tuesday, June 21, 2022.
Note: This article is being written in the aftermath of the Uvalde school shooting where law enforcement agencies egregiously botched their response. I plan to address those failures and pay my own respects to those who lost their lives on that tragic day at a later time. For now, simply know that some of the statements below do not apply to the actions of many who responded in Uvalde. Moreover, for those who struggle with the role of law enforcement in our society more generally, I ask that you read until the end to see why understanding these realities is so important for the lives of our loved ones and the future of our nation.
This stack has been quiet for the past two months. The lack of content has been partly due to a larger project I’ve been working on (more on that soon). But since June 21st, my ability to write has been greatly affected by the sudden death of a young man who gave his life protecting others. Austin Derek Aldridge was a real-life hero. He was also one of my students.
Austin began serving with the Spartanburg County Sheriff’s Office in April 2019. He loved his community, he took his oath to protect and serve seriously, and he was by all accounts a great officer. On the day he was killed, Austin was responding to a domestic violence call—calls that are frequent and dangerous but where officers genuinely fulfill their oaths. He arrived on scene at 3:20pm and was immediately ambushed as he approached the house. Austin died of his wounds at 9:26pm.
For those who want to know more about the events of that day, see this short writeup from the Officer Down Memorial Page. For more about Austin’s life and family, his obituary offers a short tribute. My own reflections on Austin’s life can be found at the bottom of this article.
The Risks
Austin knew the risks he was taking when he signed up to be a deputy sheriff. He also knew the risks of responding to that call. I think most people realize that police officers face substantial risks on a daily basis, but I don’t believe most people understand how the kinds of risks faced by law enforcement affect both officers and their families. For my own part, these risks did not become real to me (or to my wife) until about halfway through the police academy. Our instruction on the use of force as well as subject control and arrest techniques—including numerous gut-wrenching videos, sobering personal testimonies, real-life scenarios, and actual physical pain—made real what was before only imagined.
I do not mean to overstate the risks that police officers face on a daily basis. Law enforcement is not the most dangerous job in America; other professions involve a greater risk of death. But no other profession in the United States (or honestly the world) carries the same risk of violent death as serving in law enforcement (or the military). This makes the stress of working as a police officer very different from any other career, and the anxiety felt by spouses, parents, children, and other loved ones is also categorically different. Again, other professions certainly have their own hazards, but no other job requires an individual to be prepared every second—literally every second—for the possibility of violent attack and the need to use deadly force. Add to this always-ready mindset the need to engage normally with members of the community without treating them as threats, and you can at least somewhat understand the unique stresses of serving as a police officer.
The Realities
For those unfamiliar with law enforcement or who do not have friends and family members who are cops, consider the emotional roller-coaster of this very realistic 12-hour shift:
7:05pm. You leave roll call at 7:05pm on Saturday and respond immediately to a traffic crash. You speak with the drivers (who are both irate), and you facilitate the exchange of information and issue the at-fault driver a citation. You’ll have to finish your full report later, though, as you’ve just been dispatched to a domestic call where you’ve been informed young children are in the home (a neighbor called after hearing crying and shouting). When you and another officer arrive on scene, you find two arguing parents and three frightened little girls, including one the same age as your own four-year-old daughter. You and your fellow officer interview each of the parents, comparing their stories to determine who is the aggressor and if any laws have been broken. The mother has bruises she claims are from yesterday when she fell down the stairs, but you believe—you know—that they were not from a fall. But without more evidence or an admission from the mother or father that an assault has taken place, there’s nothing you can do. You and your partner walk back to your vehicles, knowing that the father is likely even more angry because the police were called. Will he take this anger out on the mother? On the little girls? Will you be called back to this same address later in your shift? Will you return to find evidence of abuse—or will the dad leave and never return? Would it be better for the mom and little girls if he did leave for good? These questions run through your mind as you head to your next call.
9:32pm. Another traffic crash has happened—this one with more serious injuries. A young man was texting while driving and ran a red light, striking a minivan on the front right fender and spinning both the van and the car in different directions. You are the first to arrive on scene and immediately hear crying and screaming from the minivan that was struck. You see a female driver covered in blood and several children in the backseat. Thankfully the female driver was wearing a seatbelt, and your initial evaluation reveals only non-life-threatening injuries. Three children in the backseat—two boys and a girl—are crying and visibly shaken. Thankfully the children are also relatively unharmed except for a few scratches (thank God for carseats), so you begin removing the children from the van as another officer and EMS arrive on scene. While the mother and children are being evaluating by EMS, you run to the other vehicle where another officer is trying to pull the young man to safety. The young man is unconscious, and the vehicle has caught fire as a result of the crash. You and your fellow officer are able to pull him to safety, but he is not breathing and seems to be losing a lot of blood (he was not wearing a seatbelt). EMS quickly begin CPR and the young man begins breathing, but he’s not out of the woods yet due to possible head trauma and internal injuries. EMS prepares to transport him to the hospital, and you try to collect yourself for just a moment. You walk back to the mother and her kids; they are shaken but ok. You interview the mom, give each of the children a small stuffed animal (you carry a lot of these in your patrol car for moments like this), and you walk back to your vehicle to begin writing your report. But before you have a chance to finish, another call comes in.
11:03pm. An alarm goes off at a local supermarket, so you and another officer quickly drive to that store (the store closed at 10:00pm). When you arrive, you both exit your vehicles and draw your firearms to clear the building (standard protocol because you don’t know what you will face). You head to the back entrance where a door is propped open, clearly identifying yourselves as law enforcement officers. Startled, a young woman who is restocking shelves identifies herself as the store manager. False alarm. You head back to your patrol car to finish your report from the last traffic crash.
12:37am. You stop at a local 24-hour gas station for a hot dog and an energy drink. Not the healthiest snack, but nothing else is open and you need the boost to finish your shift. Only 6 more hours to go.
2:06am. You get a call about an angry customer at the gas station you left an hour ago. When you arrive on scene, the suspect is shouting at the clerk and making physically threatening gestures. You enter the store and try to deescalate the situation, but your presence only further agitates the suspect. He turns over a shelf and throws several 2 liter bottles on the ground before rushing at the clerk and punching him in the face. You command him to stop, but he continues to yell and now approaches you aggressively, threatening to “f*ck up this f*cking pig.” The suspect is unarmed, so you draw your taser, ordering the man to put his hands up and to get on the ground. Seeing the taser, the man quickly complies (he’s likely been tased before). You have him put his hands behind his back and place him in handcuffs just as another officer arrives on scene. You then place the suspect in your patrol car while you review the surveillance video. You transport him to jail a short time later.
6:15am. The remainder of your shift has been pretty quiet after the incident at the gas station. Only 45 minutes until you head home to your family and to (hopefully) sleep a few hours before returning at 7pm for your next shift. Just as you are preparing to head back to the station, another call comes in—the same address where you began your shift. Shots fired. You and a fellow officer run lights and siren the entire way to the house, getting there in less than 3 minutes. When you arrive on scene, you hear screams and then another two shots. You approach the house with your gun drawn (your partner is right behind you). You get to the front door (being careful not to stand directly in front of it), loudly announcing yourself as police. You hear another shot. You attempt to enter but the door is locked. You kick the door several times until it breaks open, heart racing as you make entry. What you find inside is a sight you will never forget. The three precious girls you saw earlier are lying in a pool of blood on the living room floor. You rush to see if they are breathing but then hear another shot. Your instinct is to stay with the girls, but your training tells you to move toward the shots to eliminate the threat. You run down the hall with your gun drawn, scanning the children’s bedrooms as you go. You reach the last room on the left—the master bedroom—with the door slightly ajar. You push into the room with your gun still drawn, only to find both the mother and father lifeless on the bed. The mother has multiple gunshot wounds, including one to the face. The father has one self-inflicted gunshot wound to the head. Knowing that the mother and father are both dead, you return to the living room just as several other officers enter the home. EMS is right behind. You run to the girls, hoping and praying that there is still life in them, but then you see the extent of their wounds. All three of these little girls—girls you had longed to protect just a few hours ago—are gone. All the evidence shows that the father did not simply shoot them in a fit of rage; he lined them up and executed them. You can’t take your eyes off the girls. Your heart races even faster. Your breaths become quick and shallow. You picture your own daughters—especially your four-year-old. You look back at the girls and let out a scream. You question what you did earlier—is there anyway that you could have taken the father to jail earlier that evening? Could you have helped the mother and girls leave? If you had, would they still be alive? All these thoughts bombard you as your shift supervisor places his hand on your shoulder.
7:04am. You walk out of the house and give statements as to what happened when you entered and to what you saw, who you saw, and how you saw them. Your shift is over, but it’s not over. And even when you clock out, it will not be over.
8:22am. You return to the station to shower and change your uniform, being careful to follow proper procedures for exposure to blood and bodily fluids. You scrub your hands and arms and are finally able to remove the girls’ blood from your skin. But the images in your mind . . . . Nothing can remove those. Nothing.
9:44am. You enter your house to the sound of your little girls playing happily in the living room. They’ve been up since 7:30 eagerly awaiting your return (you’re home nearly two hours late). Your wife comes to the door to greet you, but she sees the look on your face. You’re exhausted, still in disbelief. Your girls know you normally shower and change clothes, giving you a bit more time to compose yourself. But after you shower, you hug your girls as you normally do but find yourself unable to let go. Kids are perceptive, and they can tell something is wrong. You simply smile, tell them you love them and that you are just tired. But even as you look at your daughters, you can still see the other girls on the floor of their living room just a few miles away.
11:32am. You head to the bedroom to try to sleep for a few hours while your wife takes your daughters to the store. Your mind replays the events of last night over, and over, and over. Could you have gone back by to check on them? Could you have said something differently? What if you had arrived on scene a minute sooner? You toss and turn, the images of the girls you barely knew engraved in your mind. Your thoughts race as you then fear the worst happening to your own family while you are not with them. And then back to the girls, to the mom and dad on the bed, to the . . . .
How do you recover from a day like this? How do you interact with your own children in any normal way? How do you stay fully engaged with your family when your mind can’t help but wander to the tragic events of just a few hours ago (or a few weeks ago, a few months ago—even a few years ago)? The things officers see, hear, and smell are etched in their minds and hearts for the rest of their lives, leaving scars (and often callouses) that inevitably affect their spouses and children. How do officers cope with such evil? How do they avoid becoming numb to the world around them? How do they fight tendencies to bottle up—and turn to the bottle—in an effort to cope with what they see?
These are the realities of policing. And while officers may not see scenes like this on every shift, they see much more than most of us can imagine—and certainly more than most of us would like to see.
Why Does this Matter to Me?
I think it goes without saying that the vast majority of media segments on policing do not convey the realities described above; in fact, much of the coverage of police in the United States casts officers in a negative light. Police are often vilified as racist stormtroopers who run roughshod over the rights of those they are meant to protect. To be sure, there are some egregious examples where law enforcement officers fail to fulfill their oaths (e.g., Uvalde) and where officers abuse their authority (e.g., the case of George Floyd). These botched responses and indefensible acts make headlines (and stay in the news longer) because they keep viewers engaged. In contrast, feel-good stories of the valiant acts of police and the kind deeds of everyday citizens do not keep people’s attention like videos (and narratives) that elicit fear and anger. While it’s understandable that media companies will lead with what keeps viewers engaged (“if it bleeds, it leads,” according to CNN’s Charlie Chester), this kind of unbalanced coverage can result in a distorted understanding of policing. Even worse, many now believe that all cops are killers who deliberately target racial minorities. The reality, however, is that most local law enforcement officers are just like my student Austin—they care about their communities, they take their oaths seriously, and they would be willing to lay down their lives for others, including those they don’t even know.
What is the result of these distorted beliefs about law enforcement? Calls to defund or even abolish the police. When people believe that those who are meant to protect and serve are in actuality abusing and oppressing them, they understandably want to cast off those authorities. But the result is never what most people think it will be, as this scene from The Dark Knight powerfully illustrates:
If local law enforcement agencies are defunded or even abolished, some other authority will inevitably step in to restore order. Chaos will not be allowed to persist for long, as citizens will not tolerate it. So who will come to the “rescue” if local departments are weakened or disbanded? I personally don’t think a warlord like Bane is waiting to seize power (though what happened with CHAZ during the summer of 2020 is eerily similar to the above clip). But you know who will step in? The military. Federal agencies. Perhaps state agencies if they are still well-funded. But is this in the best interests of local communities? Do we really want the National Guard patrolling the streets of our neighborhoods? And do we really want the FBI, the TSA, or other three-letter agencies overseeing the everyday affairs of local citizens?
The principles of federalism (i.e., the division of power between federal and state governments) has arguably been THE saving grace of the United States of America. It’s the reason at least some U.S. citizens were not taken captive by covid tyranny for more than two years (and still counting in some places). But what happens if the authority of local departments is diminished or destroyed? The loss of state and local control is a gain for federal control—and a loss of liberty for everyone everywhere. Take a few moments and seriously reflect on the choice before us: Would we rather have local control of law enforcement where officers care about their communities—because the communities really are their communities—or would we prefer federal agents (or soldiers) who are disconnected and far removed from those they are policing? We must think long and hard about how we answer this question. A preference for local control of law enforcement does not mean we end up with the likes of Andy Griffith or Barney Fife; we will still have professional agencies, and these agencies will still make mistakes. As others have said, there are no perfect solutions—only tradeoffs. But which imperfect option do we choose? Local and decentralized control of law enforcement, or the faceless stormtroopers of the Empire (or the “peacekeepers” of the Capitol)?
Much like in Star Wars or The Hunger Games, if we end up with federalized law enforcement agencies, we will have order. But will we have freedom? Will we have peace? As Haymitch astutely observed in The Hunger Games, “peacekeepers are not entirely peaceful.” This is why knowing the risks and realities of policing matters. I’ve written elsewhere about understanding what is really happening in our world and escaping the grip of narratives, as living in light of the truth is essential to human flourishing. What’s more, if we are to remain free, we must refuse to live by lies, which means rejecting the narrative that all cops are racists (or the related acronym ACAB—“All Cops are B*stards”) and recognizing what is actually happening in our nation, in our states, and in our communities. Yes, we should remember (and rightly criticize!) instances of injustice carried out at the hands of law enforcement (I intentionally highlight such instances in my criminal justice courses to show my students what not to do). But we must also recognize the multitudes of good law enforcement officers who are striving every day to protect and serve their communities.
Learning the Truth about Law Enforcement
If we want to escape the grip of false narratives about police in the United States (and thus preserve our own lives and freedoms), we must not only comprehend the risks and realities of life as a police officer; we must also know the truth about law enforcement training and tactics. Before I went through the police academy, I had effectively zero understanding of how officers were trained to enforce the law. The same is likely true for most people today who have no connection to law enforcement. This lack of understanding can lead to a host of incorrect assumptions, not the least of which is that many officers are killers who are “hunting down” certain groups. Consider this tweet from Lebron James:
For context, here’s the tweet that James deleted:
James is demanding “accountability” for the shooting of 16-year-old Ma’Khia Bryant. But what James and many others failed to acknowledge was that the officer involved in this shooting actually saved the life of another teenage girl that Ma’Khia Bryant was about to stab with a knife (see here for the full video). Much more could be said about this shooting, and a full evaluation of the media coverage demonstrates without any doubt the anti-police bias present in most mainstream reporting (a topic I hope to address more fully soon). But for now, simply note the assumption that an officer shooting someone who is advancing toward another person with a knife is morally equivalent to what happened to George Floyd. Such an assumption shows how little most Americans understand about police use of force.
For those who want to distinguish appropriate uses of force from excessive force (or too little force), I cannot recommend highly enough the PDF I linked on this previous stack:
For a more detailed evaluation of another high-profile case, see this analysis of the Rayshard Brooks shooting:
For those who want to understand what an officer-involved shooting is like in the days, weeks, months, and years following the event, I encourage you to watch the documentary “Officer Involved.” Have you ever wondered what happens to an officer in the aftermath of a shooting? This short film examines the legal processes, the physiological and psychological fallout, and the heart-wrenching conversations with spouses and children. It also examines the truly shocking effects that movies and television have on public perceptions of deadly force. Especially if you have a friend or family member in law enforcement, please consider watching this film, as it will truly help you understand the stress and grief that officers and their families experience. No officer wants to use deadly force, but many officers are required to use deadly force in the performance of their duties; indeed, they would be derelict in their duties if they chose not to use deadly force if a suspect posed an imminent threat of death or serious bodily harm.
Finally, for anyone who understandably doubts whether the 12-hour shift described above accurately represents what police may encounter on a daily basis, consider the following video:
The above video is not an outlier; in fact, other videos are even more intense. If you want to see more of the nearly limitless types of encounters that police officers have with suspects, victims, and everyday citizens, consider watching some of the videos at the YouTube channel Police Activity. This channel uploads new video footage nearly every day (sometimes multiple times a day), and while many other videos can be found on YouTube and elsewhere, the number and quality of full and unedited videos available on this channel are second to none. Truly, if you want to understand the risks and realities of life as a police officer, spend some time on this channel. Some of the videos I show my students each semester can be found here, here, here, here, and here. And here.
In Light of These Realities, Why Would Anyone Take the Risks?
I can’t speak for everyone else who chooses to become a police officer, but I can tell you why I and many of my friends entered the police academy. We know there is a tremendous amount of evil in the world—more than most people can imagine. We know that some individuals choose to prey on the weak and the innocent, and we want to do everything in our power to prevent this from happening. And we want to protect those who cannot protect themselves and bring to justice those who succeed in harming others.
These same desires are what motivate the scores of students I’ve taught during the past 10 years—including Austin Aldridge. Every semester, I try to impress upon my students the realities and risks of policing. Yet in spite of the dangers and the demands on their families, so many of them still desire to become police officers because they want to protect and serve their communities. These are the kind of men and women who make up the vast majority of local law enforcement in the United States. Honorable. Brave. Kind. Selfless.
I want to reiterate why the truth about law enforcement matters. If we do not understand the risks and realities of policing, if we misunderstand how officers are trained to use force, and if we fail to recognize what motivates the vast majority of police officers, people who are more evil than any of us could imagine may one day rise to power. On that day, the police will not protect and serve their communities but will instead protect and serve those who have placed them in power. This is the nature of centralized control of the police and the military. Consider China, North Korea, and similar countries. Government agents do not exist to protect the public; they exist to protect the leaders and to further the interests of the elite.
While many of my current students still desire to take the oath and to serve and protect their communities, more than a few of my good friends and former students have moved on to different professions. Several more are actively considering other careers. Why? The number one reason for these officers leaving their departments is the hostile working environment created by false narratives—narratives fueled by sensationalized media coverage and a dearth of understanding. And this makes sense: If those you seek to protect regularly vilify you as a monster and a killer, how long would you continue to serve those people? Other reasons include lack of funding for their departments and exhaustion from covering many additional shifts (shifts that were vacated by other officers who left). It’s not hard to see the domino effects caused by these false narratives. And where does it end? More centralized or federalized control of law enforcement, if not something much, much worse (see “Why Does This Matter to Me?” above).
I have often been accused of whitewashing the bad actions of police or of defending the use of excessive force, and I understand that a piece like this could elicit such reactions. But as I said at the beginning concerning Uvalde (and as I have previously shared concerning what happened to George Floyd), I am not an apologist for the police. If officers abuse their authority or fail to protect others, I will be one of the first to criticize these actions (or inactions). And if I could explain how I become physically sick every time I watch footage from Uvalde, you would understand that I never make excuses for the failures of law enforcement.
So why write an article that seems to be taking the side of police? Because I care about the truth and living in accordance with reality—and because I know where living by lies can lead. My sincere hope and prayer in writing this piece is that more Americans will gain a better understanding of law enforcement and will be able to see through the false narratives—narratives that appeal more to emotions than to facts. I also hope I’ve at least somewhat adequately conveyed the risks and realities that officers face and that I have represented well the essential role that so many of my friends and students play in preserving life and liberty. Finally, I hope that the memory of Austin has been honored in what I’ve written. To that end, below is the tribute I wrote for him shortly after his passing.
To My Friend and Brother, Austin Derek Aldridge
I’ve started to write this post a couple times over the past two days. Each time I come away frustrated, as I genuinely do not know what to say. Austin Aldridge was ambushed while responding to a call on Tuesday. I had the privilege of teaching Austin in my Intro to Criminal Justice course in the spring of 2017. Every time I’ve looked at his picture over the past two days, I can see exactly where he sat in our classroom (on the left side against the wall). All I can see is his smile—the same exact smile in his deputy profile below.
Earlier this morning, I looked back through my emails from Austin, and I came across a short reply to an email I sent our class. I had to cancel class one day when we had a scare with our third daughter (my wife was five months pregnant), and Austin was so quick to reply to check in on my family and to offer his support and prayers. I only talked to Austin periodically over the past five years (thankfully I got to see him on campus this spring), but from what I’ve heard from many of his classmates and friends over the past two days, this eagerness to care for others defined who Austin was as both a deputy and a person.
When I went through the police academy 14 years ago, our commanding officers trained us to memorize the names of the 8 fallen officers who served our department, along with the dates they passed and their cause of death. When I started teaching criminal justice at North Greenville, and as our program has grown by leaps and bounds, I’ve often wondered when we would have to start a list of former students who were killed in the line of duty. I just never thought it would happen this soon.
Like anyone who works in or around law enforcement, you always know the risk. You hope and pray the day never comes, but that call or knock at the door is always in the back of our minds—and in the minds of our families. To Austin’s wife: I’m not sure you will ever see this post, but I want you to know how deeply I and others grieve for you—and with you. I am praying that you will know the comfort that only the Lord Jesus can provide.
To all my students, both past and present, I want you to know how deeply grateful I am for you. I’ve spoken to so many of you over the past 42 hours, and it is abundantly clear how deep the bonds are among our Criminal Justice and Legal Studies students. Your love and care for Austin and for one another has been on full display in these conversations. It is truly a privilege to teach at North Greenville University and to serve as your professor.
And finally, to Austin: I love you, brother. I am thankful for your service to your family, to your community, and to Christ. Your selfless example will live on in the hearts and lives of your fellow officers, your former classmates, and everyone who knew you. I wish I could shake your hand one more time and give you one last hug, but I am thankful—so thankful—that because of our Lord Jesus Christ, I will see you again.
Austin Aldridge’s Officer Down Memorial