4CHP
03-14-2006, 07:47 AM
CHP: Counting the cost
By John Lindblom - Record-Bee staff
Tuesday, March 14, 2006 -
KELSEYVILLE -- It didn't matter that California Highway Patrol motorcycle officer Gregory Bailey's Rancho Cucamonga patrol area was more than 500 miles from the Clear Lake CHP offices in Kelseyville. When Bailey was struck and killed by an alleged drunk driver during a traffic stop on Feb. 25, it hit close to home for the 26 officers of the local station.
Bailey, killed by a driver said to be three times over the limit for alcohol in his blood while operating a vehicle, was a father of four. When not on patrol, he was a cowboy in a Stetson hat. Given that he was the sixth officer killed in the last five months, most, if not all, of the 7,000 CHP officers employed by the state probably felt pretty much the same about his death. No one was immune.
"I've been with it (the CHP) for 16 years and each time an officer gets killed everything that has happened to me personally all my friends who have been killed on the job and the incidents I've gone through first-person I relive for several days," said CHP Sgt. David Stark.
Lt. Commander Dane Hayward, commander of the Kelseyville CHP station, added, "When one of the six officers was shot in the face, I remembered a shooting incident I was in; I remember my friends who have been killed in shootings. It never goes away."
Said Officer Kevin Domby, "When you hear about something like this you think about how many times you have stopped a drunk driver and seen a car going by, thinking, I hope nobody's going to run into me."'
Sensitive to how his officers have been affected by the series of deaths, unprecedented in CHP history, Hayward met with them for two hours on the day after the shooting, much as did other commanders up and down the state.
The meeting was important to relieving stress, said Domby, "to make you realize that you're not just thinking about it in your own mind. There is a group of people that has feelings about it."
Highway patrolmen are among the most empathetic and inclined to grieve over the death of a fellow CHP officer, even those they have never met, Domby believes. That's why the force attracts individuals, who, as Domby said, want to "make a difference."
The deep-running empathy among CHP officers is rooted in their common experiences, beginning with six months at an academy.
"That bonds you right there," said Domby. "You go through a rigorous process background checks, interviews and tests for physical fitness. When you show up for your first day at the academy, you're like a fish out of water. Then, you look at each other and think, We're all fish out of water."'
The proud, paramilitary-oriented CHP program in some ways is reminiscent of the "esprit de corps," and "a few good men" cohesion of the Marine Corps.
"The approach gets people to where they need to be," Domby said. "It sort of casts you out of your old life and gets you to think as a department because we need to function as a group."
Remembering his own entry into the CHP, he added, "You have to work hard to get into this organization and once you're in it's hard not to stay."
For Domby, winning entry into the organization was a priority; so much so that he flew to California from the East Coast four times during the course of a year to complete the testing.
CHP officers are further bonded by their work on the road, "so that when you read about an officer being killed and their family you can really relate to it," noted Domby.
Why this sudden rash of fatalities among the people who patrol California's roads and highways?
The danger is inherent to law enforcement, Domby said.
"There is always that potential risk of your life in this profession," he explained. "And I think we cherish each other a little bit more because of that. Every time there's an accident where someone is hurt or killed, it really puts your life into perspective."
Hayward said, "It's always been a dangerous job, but with more cars on the road it creates more exposure for the officers. Two (drivers) had the intent of killing. Most are driving too fast, driving drunk and not paying attention to what they're doing on the road.
"Across the nation, I believe it's an upward trend. Officers getting hit more, people driving faster. As a society we are losing sight of what's important, putting our ability to get there at a certain time ahead of what's safe."
There may be impact additional impacts for the CHP and law enforcement in general.
"There is a national trend of people not wanting to go into law enforcement," Hayward said. "Units across the country are experiencing this all the time. There is not a one-statement answer as to why. There are a lot of reasons people are not choosing to go into law enforcement. The danger, the money. There are budget constraints and there is a definite decline. People are leaving the profession."
But, he added, "What we have are the finest people you will find."
Contact
By John Lindblom at jlwordsmith@mchsi.com.
By John Lindblom - Record-Bee staff
Tuesday, March 14, 2006 -
KELSEYVILLE -- It didn't matter that California Highway Patrol motorcycle officer Gregory Bailey's Rancho Cucamonga patrol area was more than 500 miles from the Clear Lake CHP offices in Kelseyville. When Bailey was struck and killed by an alleged drunk driver during a traffic stop on Feb. 25, it hit close to home for the 26 officers of the local station.
Bailey, killed by a driver said to be three times over the limit for alcohol in his blood while operating a vehicle, was a father of four. When not on patrol, he was a cowboy in a Stetson hat. Given that he was the sixth officer killed in the last five months, most, if not all, of the 7,000 CHP officers employed by the state probably felt pretty much the same about his death. No one was immune.
"I've been with it (the CHP) for 16 years and each time an officer gets killed everything that has happened to me personally all my friends who have been killed on the job and the incidents I've gone through first-person I relive for several days," said CHP Sgt. David Stark.
Lt. Commander Dane Hayward, commander of the Kelseyville CHP station, added, "When one of the six officers was shot in the face, I remembered a shooting incident I was in; I remember my friends who have been killed in shootings. It never goes away."
Said Officer Kevin Domby, "When you hear about something like this you think about how many times you have stopped a drunk driver and seen a car going by, thinking, I hope nobody's going to run into me."'
Sensitive to how his officers have been affected by the series of deaths, unprecedented in CHP history, Hayward met with them for two hours on the day after the shooting, much as did other commanders up and down the state.
The meeting was important to relieving stress, said Domby, "to make you realize that you're not just thinking about it in your own mind. There is a group of people that has feelings about it."
Highway patrolmen are among the most empathetic and inclined to grieve over the death of a fellow CHP officer, even those they have never met, Domby believes. That's why the force attracts individuals, who, as Domby said, want to "make a difference."
The deep-running empathy among CHP officers is rooted in their common experiences, beginning with six months at an academy.
"That bonds you right there," said Domby. "You go through a rigorous process background checks, interviews and tests for physical fitness. When you show up for your first day at the academy, you're like a fish out of water. Then, you look at each other and think, We're all fish out of water."'
The proud, paramilitary-oriented CHP program in some ways is reminiscent of the "esprit de corps," and "a few good men" cohesion of the Marine Corps.
"The approach gets people to where they need to be," Domby said. "It sort of casts you out of your old life and gets you to think as a department because we need to function as a group."
Remembering his own entry into the CHP, he added, "You have to work hard to get into this organization and once you're in it's hard not to stay."
For Domby, winning entry into the organization was a priority; so much so that he flew to California from the East Coast four times during the course of a year to complete the testing.
CHP officers are further bonded by their work on the road, "so that when you read about an officer being killed and their family you can really relate to it," noted Domby.
Why this sudden rash of fatalities among the people who patrol California's roads and highways?
The danger is inherent to law enforcement, Domby said.
"There is always that potential risk of your life in this profession," he explained. "And I think we cherish each other a little bit more because of that. Every time there's an accident where someone is hurt or killed, it really puts your life into perspective."
Hayward said, "It's always been a dangerous job, but with more cars on the road it creates more exposure for the officers. Two (drivers) had the intent of killing. Most are driving too fast, driving drunk and not paying attention to what they're doing on the road.
"Across the nation, I believe it's an upward trend. Officers getting hit more, people driving faster. As a society we are losing sight of what's important, putting our ability to get there at a certain time ahead of what's safe."
There may be impact additional impacts for the CHP and law enforcement in general.
"There is a national trend of people not wanting to go into law enforcement," Hayward said. "Units across the country are experiencing this all the time. There is not a one-statement answer as to why. There are a lot of reasons people are not choosing to go into law enforcement. The danger, the money. There are budget constraints and there is a definite decline. People are leaving the profession."
But, he added, "What we have are the finest people you will find."
Contact
By John Lindblom at jlwordsmith@mchsi.com.