More than just Socks, Creating Positive Presence

Our apologies in advance as both Sarah and I recognize it's been far too long since we last fed our "blog", but as is the case for many of us with the best of intentions, sometimes life and circumstance just get in the way. With that said, things seem to have quieted down enough for us to push out another excerpt from our upcoming book, this time from Chapter 6 which talks about things that influence us and sometimes guide our actions. You may find this post is perhaps more practical then introspective, but we hope just as meaningful.

Experience has taught me that our lives and behaviours are very much influenced by the compulsions we feel to adhere to the influences of the society we are born into. Understanding how these influences affect behaviour can be like unleashing our inner Jedi and for an experienced investigator the key to unlocking invaluable knowledge to help in apprehending “bad guys” or resolving crisis and conflict.

Take the influence of likability for instance, being likeable goes a long way towards influencing positive outcomes. It makes sense, how difficult is it to listen to someone we don’t like, let alone be persuaded or influenced by them? Professor, author and psychologist Robert Cialdini spoke to this point in his video The Science of Persuasion. According to Cialdini there are three important factors that increase likability:

• People who are similar to us.
• People who pay us compliments.
• People who cooperate with us.

Citing a study that speaks to these factors, Cialdini said that researchers found that business persons who met with perspective business associates were ninety percent more likely to close the deal if both sides spent some time getting to know the other side on a personal level through connection and communication. This was in fact a forty percent increase from those in the study who approached the same scenario with the attitude that time was money so let's get down to business.   

From my own experiences as an investigator, I believe Cialdini's three factors do increase likability, but I would also add a fourth: the ability to laugh at oneself and use self-deprecating humour. I believe these four elements are key to influencing likability and building those important connections with other people. 

Rapport building.

In TV and movies a prevalent interview tactic is the "good cop/bad cop” routine. The idea being that a suspect will draw quickly away from the unlikable “bad cop”, but will then draw closer to the likeable “good cop.” This may make sense as it does exploit the likability influence, however, in my view this is a tact that most investigators stay away from and with good reason. Statement admissibility will be judged in part on the treatment of the accused by all police officers they came in contact with prior to he/she ever making admissions or statements in an interview. If in this scenario the "bad cop” is too bad, too overbearing, or even threatening, there is a likelihood that any statements made by the suspect to the more likeable officer could be in jeopardy. If the Court identifies threats, coercion or inducements that may have come through in the bad cop’s role, the statements may be dismissed. So instead, most interviewers take a different approach and work on proper rapport building, seeking out that commonality, being empathetic to the accused’s plight, actually listening, and focusing on building a connection to the suspect, thus staying clear of any land mines the "bad cop" act can create.

Humour in this phase can also be used in creating a less adversarial and more likeable environment for statement taking. One such officer I know is an expert at this. Through discussions around his receding hairlines, his pot belly and his commentary of not missing too many meals, his expressions and tone build likability quickly and even the most seasoned of criminals are persuaded to at least listen to him in the interview suite.

Something light-hearted on a
really bad day can go a very long way.

For me, I have found that having a simple shtick that could make others smile is one of the ways I have learned to create positive presence in the lives of people I come in contact with in often tragic and sad circumstances. By simply wearing fancy, bold, sometimes obscenely colourful socks I have been able to produce humour and connections with people during often the darkest times of their lives. On more then one occasion I have watched people go from crying to smiling and sometimes even laughing out loud when they get a glimpse of my vibrant purple, pink or whatever colour of the rainbow socks are peaking out from the bottom of my suit pants. For me the socks become a jump off point for the introduction of humour or discussions on why I wear this often embarrassing apparel. Over time the socks become strangely meaningful for some victim families as I explain that they are worn as a sacrifice to fashion to make people smile. I have gotten frequent requests over the years to roll up my pant leg and reveal that day’s fashion blasphemy. In turn, for the smiles and laughs the socks generate, I have been rewarded with a steady stream of new pairs coming into my collection as a gesture of thanks, mostly from family members of murder victim's I have gotten to know over time. A reciprocal effect for creating this positive, unexpected light-hearted presence, and their way of ensuring my tradition carries on for others.

As a lesson, the likability influence teaches us that if we want to a create positive presence and connections in the lives of people we meet that it is important that we take the time to be genuine and ask them about their lives. In doing so, the law of this influence is more likely to be effective and even thrive when we engage and create real connections through finding those commonalities, paying honest compliments, and taking time to laugh at oneself.

Thanks for hanging in with us...

Dave and Sarah

Bystander Apathy

Life can be consuming, rushed, exciting . . . or so boring and lethargic that we’re actually really busy being consumed by it. But what happens when we are so focused on our own lives and the lives of our family and friends, that we become apathetic to our wider community?

Every one of us is a citizen of somewhere, and I’d hazard a guess that most of us are a part of many communities, beyond our cities and towns, be that school, work, sports team, hobby club, or volunteer work. And yes, sometimes we just want to keep our head down and roll with whatever we are experiencing, be that something so incredible we want to savour, or so awful we just want to push through.

I believe Sir Robert Peel was right when he said, “Police are the public and the public are the police; the police being only members of the public who are paid to give full-time attention to duties which are incumbent on every citizen in the interests of community welfare and existence.” (Sir Robert Peel's Principles of Law Enforcement, 1829)

I feel we all have a responsibility to each other, including ourselves, to pay attention, to care, to avoid apathy or expect that someone else will notice something that needs noticing. It is important we all do our part, to keep our communities, and each other, as strong, safe, vibrant and healthy as possible. I wish we didn’t have tragedy as our teacher, but sometimes we do.

The following is an effective video to remind us of a somber reality when no one notices.

As always, thanks for stopping by. We’ll have another post next week.
Sarah and Dave

Big Boy Debriefs

One of my favourite quotes is from Mahatma Gandhi, ”Be the change you wish to see in the world.” Those words can apply in a lot of different areas, but let’s explore it as it pertains to communication. I’ve noticed that much of the tension we experience in life can be traced back to a breakdown in communication. Our relationships are strained every time we muzzle our own voice or don’t listen when someone really needs us to hear. Miscommunication muddies the waters further, when we think we understand what’s going on, but actually don’t. Sometimes we can find this out in painfully humbling ways. Bottom line, effective communication is one of those key building blocks of solid, healthy relationships. That includes more than just individuals; families, workplaces, and communities can all benefit from honest, respectful dialogue. Our ears open in that environment, we’re also better able to articulate our thoughts, points and ideas. As fabulous a tool as tension is in a novel (says the writer), in real life it blows. We can make a positive difference in our relationships when we say what we mean and listen like we actually care.

This project has unwittingly given plenty of opportunity for misunderstandings. I remember once texting Dave back regarding edits and word choices with no idea that what I had perceived as a simple two sentence reply was loaded with what he took as implied grump. I got an immediate call for clarity. We could laugh about it then and I’m still laughing now because I know how sideways life can get when misunderstandings occur. We dodged a bullet by Dave simply asking for clarity and me answering honestly. In Chapter Four Dave discusses how integral a role honest communication played during his time in the organized crime section.

Our team was a band of six brothers and one sister. The importance we placed on each other was high, it had to be. We relied on each other to ensure the safety of all involved and our bond was tight. Through the years we were there to support each other; through the passing of loved ones, the births of new ones, all the while knowing it was in each of us to make sure the others went home no worst for wear. We all understood what the others were going through and when a member of the team expressed concerns, we all listened.

I came to learn that having a support mechanism was critical to our overall health and well being. Unlike the Hollywood concept of having a handler tame the "too-deep" undercover operator, our support mechanism came by way of regular debriefings within the team itself. Each of us were strong, confident personalities and our debriefs were rarely about butterflies and hugs. We would often disagree about how things should be done and openly shared our critiques of how each did. These were always honest and for the most part, healthy discussions. At the end of the day (or night), our practice was to not only debrief each other, but also air out any dirty laundry in what I affectionately came to know as big boy debriefs. Leaving pride and ego at the door, we would all meet in a safe location to discuss the day’s events. Feelings would sometimes get bruised and guys would fall on the sword if they needed to. But being able to just say it as it was, diplomacy and political correctness aside, was our way of ensuring that we all were performing at our highest levels and learning through our mistakes. There was never mincing of words, which was a good thing, and those debriefs kept each of us on our toes and perhaps more importantly, kept us honest with each other, even if sometimes our pride got battered in the process. 

Those debriefings taught me that the risk of offending never out weighed the risk of not learning from our mistakes and honestly sharing how we were feeling. 

Photo credit D. Sweet

Back to Gandhi. Are there areas in your life that could use better communication? Sure, right? By being an attentive listener you create a space for someone else to be heard. That is gold. As so often happens, that action empowers a reciprocal attentiveness. Sometimes positive change just needs that one person to give it a go to start those worthwhile dominoes.

It’s been a crowded week, thanks for hanging in there as this post got elbowed and jostled back. We’ll have something for you next week.

Until then,
Sarah

Perspective is an Antidote to Worry

As Ralph Waldo Emerson once said, “For every minute you remain angry, you give up sixty seconds of peace of mind.” I think Emerson was on to something. People have a tendency to catastrophize what they anticipate will become a negative experience instead of taking on the challenge and owning the problem, or even flipping the negative and making it an accomplishment that they survived. Are the negative experiences we have had ever as bad as we dreamed they were going to be? Catastrophizing robs us of peace of mind and can prevent us from moving forward, and in extreme cases can even lead some into a noose or to the top of a bridge deck to contemplate a permanent solution to almost always very temporary problems.

Baz Luhrmann said it best in his song Everybody is Free to Wear Sunscreen: "Don't worry about the future. Or worry, but know that worrying is as affective as trying to solve an algebra equation by chewing bubble gum. The real troubles in your life are apt to be things that never crossed your worried mind, the kind that blindsides you at 4 p.m. on some idle Tuesday.”

Photo credit D. Sweet

It is true, the things we don't prepare for are most apt to really change us in the moment; it's not things we see coming, it's the ones we don't. This isn’t a lack of planning, either, sometimes life derails us and no amount of planning changes that. Like what happened to a beautiful young mother of three small children I met one morning when I went to inform her of her husbands murder on the fifth anniversary of their oldest son's birth. For her, the night before was like any other as she wished her hubby off for a good time on the town with his buddies not knowing it would be the last time she would speak with him. He was a normal, hard working, and by all accounts great father who on the night of his homicide attended a house party with a couple of friends, one unbeknownst to the others in the group was not welcome. In the skirmish that followed a knife was stuck into the father's chest without cause and he died minutes later in his friend’s arms. This outcome obviously changed his and everyone who loved him lives forever. It is one of many cases that really provides perspective when I think about the things we worry about, versus what his young widow must now contend with; suddenly being passed over for that next raise or getting into an argument with your spouse seems somewhat insignificant by comparison.

We all have bad days, I of course have them too, and that is when I remind myself how fortunate I am. The reality is I work in a career that many would find interesting. The fact is there are more professional hockey players that live in this town then homicide detectives and the stats say only one in every 85,000 kids playing hockey will ever get an opportunity to play one game in the pros. I live in a city of more than a million people, work in an organization of more then two thousand, and there are only fifteen of us city wide who have the opportunity to work in a career many people have only dreamed of as kids as they read the Hardy Boys or Nancy Drew. The odds that I would even get this chance seems near impossible, yet here I am. Experience has taught me that worrying over every detail of every day that has troubled me takes away from what I consider to be the very enviable situation that I find myself in. Perspective is a powerful antidote to worry.

Thanks for popping in, we appreciate you taking the time. We’ll have another post next week.
Until then,
Dave

A Time and Place for Ceremony

Before this book, I knew Dave in a peripheral sort of way. He was that homicide detective that gave presentations to writing groups: pleasant enough, with a sense of humour and surprisingly patient. Dave’s schedule is no less crammed than everyone else’s, arguably more so with that whole time-sensitivity of murder investigations, yet he would always answer writer questions long after the allotted presentation time was up. He would also use his own brand of humour to offset the heaviness of the topic. For years he was that dude that graciously answered random law enforcement questions from us writers to more accurately depict characters or hammer out plot points.

Over this past year that random peripheral shifted into first person narrative. He’s still pleasant enough if there is an energy drink at hand, and his sense of humour is dark but entertaining the few times I’ve seen it off-leash. His patience has extended to my bottle-necked edits and I know to bring in humour when needed as there are indeed heavy parts to this book. A few weeks ago Dave mentioned in passing that he was getting an award.

Photo credit R. Graham

So of course me being me, was all, “Dude, an award? That sounds cool. Can I come?” Writing in first person Dave is a constant exercise in appropriate coaxing: enough to be accurate without being invasive. Any chance to peer inside his world could only make the book stronger. More importantly though, an award from the Chief just seems like one of those things you go to to support your buddy and everyone who is receiving the honour. I went, and witnessed men and women, civilian and officers, honoured for their hard work, quick thinking, and acts of bravery. It was a discreet ceremony, and stronger for it’s brevity. The concise stories we heard, for me, only drummed harder everything that wasn’t said, like those pauses we talked about in the last post. It also kicked my butt to get these edits finished. This book is not an awards ceremony, but it delivers some parallel messages: the human spirit is an amazing thing to behold, our actions impact others, we can make a difference in another’s life, and giving a damn goes really, really far, just to name a few.

As mentioned a million times before, I’m not from the law enforcement world. I have to say, walking into a room full of men and women all decked out in their spiffy dress Blues made a pretty rad impression; there is a time and place for ceremony, this was totally one of those times. Congratulations to all of those honoured.

Thanks for checking in, we’ll have another post next week.
Happy Friday,
Sarah

An Undercover Perspective: Matching Actions to Intentions

Throughout this project, I have listened to what Dave hasn't said as much as what he has. When we all listen to each other, when we notice the voice of the pauses, as much as we do the words, we hear that much more. As Dave recounted his time with an undercover street team, I couldn’t help but wonder about those moments of pause, as he replayed past experiences in his head, making sense of memories before sharing. We all have stories, and Dave racked up quite a few of his own during his three year tenure with the drug unit. He gained unique perspectives, one of which was just how different the public’s perception and attitudes towards various people within a community can be. It was a lesson he learned first hand. The following story shares a part of his experience.

It took about a year to really develop a look that masked the real me. My beard had grown long and straggly, hanging well down my chest. My ears had contained numerous piercings, and heavy metal icons adorned many of my shirts and hoodies. I learned what it felt like to be marginalized by my community. My children, by association, learned it, too.

My family and I were fortunate to live in a nice middle-class neighbourhood with pretty, luxury SUV-driving soccer moms around every corner. One particular day, my three-year-old son and I had been sent to run errands and pick up groceries for the week. Like any other day, we entered the store and went about our business selecting our eggs, milk, meat, and cereals. Happy, my son sat in the cart as we made our way through the store. As we turned down our next aisle I heard a young boy say, "Look at the guy, mom." My son and I both turned to see a young boy, with his well groomed mother, pointing at me. "Look at that guy, mom," he repeated, this time catching his mom's attention. As her eyes met mine I saw them widen, then an expression of fear or disgust flashed across her face. "Quiet," she answered him before they promptly fled the aisle. Without missing a beat my boy, realizing what had just happened, put his hands on mine and rubbed them, proclaiming, "You're the best dad ever, I love you."

That day stayed with me; my son's innate social wisdom and compassion, and the knee-jerk reaction of the well-heeled mom and her son. That response became our new normal. Whenever I was with my spouse and kids, at the zoo, the mall, or an amusement park, people stared. The judgement and disapproval were clear, those poor kids. When they saw the pretty brunette with me I can only assume those confused stares meant they were trying to figure out if she was my sister, or maybe my parole officer. I'm certain they never suspected she was my wife at the time.

Living that experience taught me many lessons. It made me much more empathetic towards the marginalized and disadvantaged. In the past I had often thought, “Why can't these folks get jobs? Why aren’t they working? Why is he wearing his underwear on the outside of his pants?” Now I know that's easy to say if you are a person who knows the proper undergarment layer order, or you have an appearance that is inviting instead of off-putting, or you just naturally know how to walk tall and speak eloquently. I also now know first hand that if you are not those things, some in society may devalue and judge you harshly. From what I experienced, you must also care for yourself if you wish to have others care for you, too. Like it or not, first impressions count. And if we are to control how we wish others to view us, then we must match our actions to our intentions.

Thanks for joining us on this leg of the journey. We appreciate you tuning in. We’ll have another post next week.

Until next time,
Sarah

Just Because You Can, Doesn't Mean You Should

Policing has taught me that there are very few certainties in life and just because we can do something doesn't mean we always should. Our actions, even if by-the-book, can have unintentional yet still incredibly damaging consequences to people. Discretion is an intangible, perhaps that is why it is so often under estimated, but it is a powerful tool that when applied judiciously, allows us to make wise, thoughtful decisions that can make a significant, positive difference in people's lives. Discretion allows us to mindfully go about our business and problem-solve at our best, not just when it is easiest.

Policing 101 teaches us that when it comes to the management of witnesses, it is a best practice to keep them separated until each has had an opportunity to speak with investigators. Sound logic in a lot of cases as it avoids the potential for contamination of their statements, their evidence. In many cases police witnesses do not have to be eye witnesses. In homicide cases, most people who provide information are actually providing evidence of the back story. Witnesses may have information around the last time they saw the victim alive or the circumstances in the victim's life like problems they may have been having with people or criminality they may have been involved in. With that said, what happens when several of our witnesses are also victims of the crime? Should the rules learned in Policing 101 still hold true?

photo credit D. Sweet

Several years ago I was involved investigating an extremely sad and brutal murder.  A mother of four, and one of her children, were found dead in their family home. The husband and father of the two victims discovered the bodies and immediately called police. Upon arrival to the scene, the husband was brought in by us for questioning and to hear his backstory. The surviving children, who were all in school when the murders occurred, were also brought in for the same purpose. Once at the station, each was to receive the news about their mother and sibling's passing. It was at this moment that it became the discretion of our officers on how best to do this. Should investigators bring the family members together for the delivery of the news, or should each be told separately? For me and the other investigators in my unit, this was a no brainer. But it does go against the established processes of procedural controls pertaining to witnesses. Does that really matter? I didn't believe it did then and I don't believe it does now. The empathetic and compassionate choice was to tell everyone together and then speak with each one separate afterward if that could have been possible, which of course in this case it wasn't.

How do we know we made the right decision? Imagine the outcome if discretion wasn't applied or picture the headline in tomorrow's news. In this same scenario, each child after being told the awful truth was left to deal with it on their own in a room sobbing and wailing with a stranger they had never met before.

Does the use of discretion this way affect the investigation in the short term? It does. But regardless of this fact, in this case and those like it, putting others before ourselves trumps everything and I am blessed to work with a group of people that see it that way too.

Thanks for checking back in. We’ll have another post next week.

Dave


Failure as an Evolution to Success

I believe that in people driven to be successful, failure is part of that evolution towards success. For people who are not driven, failure too often becomes the reason to quit. But with each failure we ultimately get closer to the solution, if we let ourselves fall forward. The following story is from Chapter Two, Owning Your Path, and explores this lesson.

During my tenure in homicide, I have become keenly aware of just how colorful peoples’ lives are through years of investigating murders. What people kept hidden or not well-known while they were alive, the skeletons in their closet, often come to light during the investigation into their deaths.

Not all of these skeletons are ominous, but we pay attention to them during murder investigations as we work towards identifying the person responsible for their death. Moving through this process inevitably leads to the identification, and subsequent elimination, of persons of interest. This cycle of try/fail can be frustrating in the pursuit of the person responsible, but eliminating people of interest is simply the evolution of an investigation moving forward; from “failure” as people are cleared, to success when the perpetrator is identified and found.

A half dozen years ago I was called out on a Wednesday morning after a young man had been found dead in a parking lot of a strip mall in a residential area on the south side of town. In the investigation that followed, we learned a lot about this victim and his life. First, he was a "low risk" victim, a simple man who lived with his parents, had several adult siblings, no girlfriend and no criminal history with the police. However, he had an entrepreneurial spirit and although not a lawyer, he provided legal advice to people who were navigating the legal system and suing others. In some of the cases he took on, the associates he was working with had colourful and sometimes shady backgrounds.

photo credit S. Graham

When we examined the scene, there were several nuances that suggested robbery could have been a motive. While canvasing the neighbourhood, information was learned that suggested other dark possibilities. Nearby residents known for criminal activity lived close to the crime scene. Time-lining the victim’s last known movements highlighted he had been at a bar earlier in the evening where he had met with several different women.

Early in the investigation we had a lot of information, a lot of leads to follow and eighteen persons of interest to be either eliminated or focused on more closely. We began the process of systematically investigating each. The list eventually dwindled down to two, the two known criminals. This may seem like a lot of work, and it is, but almost every case requires it. But through this process, the case against the two individuals indirectly became stronger every time one of the other eighteen were eliminated through alibis and forensics.

It was through that process of “failure,” eliminating sixteen of the original eighteen persons of interest, that the evolution of success could happen. In my view, we should look at failure as simply a stepping stone or prelude on our path to the outcomes we strive for.

Thanks for checking back. Look for another post next week.

Dave

"Lessons from Dad"

A year ago I was sitting around a pool in Palm Springs, California, watching my kids play and reflecting on life. They have always had a lot of questions about my job. This career has always provided opportunities for me to reflect both on my own success and family, and to realize how lucky we are. So many go through tragedy, strife, and any number of unfortunate circumstances. My kids live in a world where they are provided the things they need, and a lot of the things they want. I wished to share with them and in some part teach them the understanding of what others go through, as well as the lessons many of these situations have taught me. I considered writing a book that talked about these things, lessons from Dad that they could go to as they grow older.

I began the process of outlining ideas:
"staying out of dark places keeps you safe,"
"just because you can do something doesn't mean you should,"
"not everyone lives behind white picket fences,"
"always leave people in a better place then you found them."

These became the building blocks of what has now become the draft manuscript for Unconventional Classroom. As this book has come into focus, additional themes and content have been added: practical lessons pertaining to ethical decision making models, selling life sentences, the power of social influences, project management, and leadership to name a few.

Now a year later, I am pleasantly surprised how far the book has come. With the help of co-authour Sarah Graham, who I am grateful for and required to help me temper the realities of writing real life, I have found myself cathartically reflecting back over my eighteen plus years and have come to realize that damn, I have learned a lot.

We have almost finished writing this book that I believe represents the many facets and lessons living a career in policing teaches. I also hope we have written a book that my peers, my Service and I will be proud of, and that also captures a different side to what people may think "cops" actually are.

I look forward to the book’s completion, recognizing it is definitely a balancing act to find time to do so. Once it is finally finished and out, I hope it will be a launch pad for other opportunities such as public speaking, and who knows, maybe even a sequel.

But first, we must finish. So it's back to writing and editing those finishing touches. Thanks for checking in.

Dave

Mentors can be as Unexpected as their Lessons are Wise

It has been cool to witness how Dave and I navigate our way through this project. Besides the typical project planning and tasks, there is the added dynamic of our differing world views, default approaches, different triggers and buttons, et cetera. But our surficial differences have been amusing instead of alarming, helpful instead of hindering, and have generated insights and built solid, real ground that we share these positive universal messages on. The following story from Chapter One shares another example of Dave working with someone different than himself and how sometimes our mentors can be as unexpected as their lessons are wise.

"Mentors can be as unexpected as they are wise."

When I was still a young officer, full of way too much piss and vinegar, I got saddled with an “old school” veteran cop. Looking back, I appreciate the value in these pairings. But at the time I wanted a younger officer, someone who would be more run and gun, more action, more fun. Like me. The old guy was cramping my inexperienced, thrill-seeking style. One shift we attended a break and enter complaint together and I hate to say it, but these can be relatively routine. As I went through the house with the traumatized homeowner, notebook in hand and ticking off each by-the-book task, I wondered if we would get a chance to get to a "real" call, something with action, a chase, something bigger. As I was wrapping up to go my partner stopped in the front living room with the victim and spent the next ten agonizing minutes talking to her about the people in the various pictures hanging on her walls and grouped nicely on her fireplace and I wondered what was going on. They talked about her children, her grandchildren, her family. As I stood there tapping my feet to go, a new call came in; other police officers were following a stolen car as my partner continued to politely ask the victim more questions about the people in her photos. More units booked into this new complaint, clearly there was a bad guy to catch, maybe even a foot chase to be had. I silently lamented about the partner I had been saddled with and how much more fun I would be having joining other teammates in this new, exciting and unfolding scene. At first I subtly nudged my partner that we should go, thinking he must have missed the initial transmissions over the radio. Why else would he be stalling? He completely ignored me and continued his conversation with the home owner who was now smiling and caught up in her own stories of her different loved ones. As they continued to talk, I not-so-discreetly began packing up my gear. Then I headed towards the door. Maybe now is a convenient time to mention I don't do subtle particularly well. I quickly said goodbye and made my way out the front door thinking he would follow behind. 

Nope. 

Now I was at the car, still waiting and listening intently as the other call ratcheted higher. Units involved in the stolen car were drawing up their tactics over the radio on how best to safely stop the vehicle and bring the offender into custody. Then it happened. Units behind the stolen car had activated their lights . . . there was a chase . . . the vehicle did not stop . . . now the helicopter was in the action?! I was a million miles away from the action and my partner was still inside the house, missing it all. The radio squawked again. The helicopter spotter called the driver out of the vehicle, he ran for it and the ground units swooped. Minutes later, I heard, "one in custody." 

Ugh. I missed being part of the best call of the shift. As I sat there feeling sorry for myself, my partner finally emerged from the house. He got into the car and began to drive away. It would be the first of many times I was firmly put in my place. With a snap in his tone, he delivered one of the greatest lessons of my career: "When we go to calls, we leave people in a better place then we found them. Got it? We take the time, we talk to people and allow them to reflect on the things in their life to be thankful for, like family or friends. We do what we can to remove them from the trauma of whatever experience brought us to them in the first place." 

He might have also added dumbass. 

He was right, a life of service is exactly that, leaving people in a better place then you found them.

Sneak Peek of Chapter One, A Life of Service

Dave and I continue to plug away on Unconventional Classroom. The rough draft is done, but as is so often the case while editing, additional content continues to flow and we’re weaving in those new facets. This project has captivated both of us and to help tide us over until its release (seriously, it’s hard to keep still this close to the finish line) we want to leak - I mean share - a few sneak peeks with you. Chapter One focuses on what a life of service is and in this snippet from that chapter Dave speaks of his grandfather, a former New York City police officer, and the impact that growing up with stories of him had on Dave’s career choice.

"You're a lot like your grandfather."

Rekindled 

Newspaper clipping circa 1908

I never met my grandfather, but he had a profound impact on the path I choose to take in my life. He was a New York City police officer. Thirty years my grandmother's senior, I only knew him from family stories, a small collection of memorabilia, and a handful of newspaper clippings that I read as a kid. Those articles, chronicling his seemingly distinguished NYPD career between 1908-1918, included rooftop chases, eventful arrests, even saving the life of a drowning man. Heady stuff for a kid. How he came to be a Justice of the Peace in Alberta, Canada after his rambunctious days in New York only added to his mystery. But for my mom and her younger sister, he was simply their dad, a strict disciplinarian and of a different generation.

Still, his early career choice captivated me. I, too, wanted to choose a career that made a positive difference, that meant something important to me. As cool as chasing bad guys on rooftops sounded, teaching high school physical education seemed like an equally compelling choice. In my experience, coaches and gym teachers were happy and quite frankly seemed to have fun playing. It helped that in high school there had been a collective group of teachers that had a significant, positive impact on me. There dedication, their service, meant something. I started college, focused on a degree in education.

"You're a lot like your grandfather." The echo of my mom's voice quieted and my fascination with his career choice took a backseat to the real life of studying, exams and work. I was taking core education classes, doing my thing, my way. But when it was time to choose electives, I found myself sitting in a criminology course, then another. Those two courses rekindled that spark that had been smouldering since I was a kid. The college I was attending had a criminology program. It wouldn't be the only time I thought I had life figured out, only to find myself quite firmly on a very different path than I had originally set out on. 

from Unconventional Classroom