Every few months, police academies graduate new officers. At first glance, these young officers seem to know everything. But looking prepared and being experienced are two different things.
I learned that early, when what should have been a routine arrest turned into a trip to the emergency room, a series of shots and one of the most embarrassing moments of my career.
I don’t recall why I arrested this person, only that it was a misdemeanor — something like public drinking or trespassing. After completing the paperwork, I returned to the street, only to be called back by the lock-up officer. When officers get a call from the lock-up, their first thought is “What did I do wrong?” The worst-case scenario was that I missed a weapon during the search, or illegal drugs were found on the person afterward.
The good news was that I didn’t do anything wrong; the bad news was that the arrestee claimed to have hepatitis B, which sent me to the emergency room. There, as a precautionary measure, I was immediately given a shot; one month later, another, and finally, another as the final booster to ensure long-term, lifelong protection.
A few weeks later, I arrived at the defendant’s court hearing. As I looked around the courtroom, I noticed the assistant public defender handling the case was noticeably pregnant. When the judge sat on the bench and began calling cases, the assistant public defender called her clients and directed them to the hallway for pretrial preparation. When she came around to call my arrestee, panic set in. I felt anxious because she was obviously unaware that he had hepatitis B.
To be clear, hepatitis B isn’t transmitted though casual contact. But I thought the assistant public defender should be aware of her client’s health since I had been sent to the hospital following the arrest.
There was an unwritten rule, or at least one I had quickly picked up as a young officer: Police officers and assistant public defenders were not supposed to be friends. You kept your distance. I didn’t want to be seen talking to her, and I was sure she felt the same way. So I pivoted toward the prosecutors’ table and asked a prosecutors to inform the defense attorney about her client’s hepatitis B. The assistant state’s attorney assured me he would, but he left the courtroom without informing the assistant public defender.
As the judge continued hearing cases, I jumped up when I saw the assistant public defender heading toward the hallway. “Officer, if you have something to say to me, go talk to the prosecutor!” she said loudly enough that everyone in the courtroom turned to look. Embarrassed and now angry, I walked over and told her, quietly that her client had hepatitis B.
The bewildered judge could only say, “Everything OK, officer?” I snapped back, “Yes, everything is just fine.” I sat there steaming, convinced I had just embarrassed myself in front of an entire courtroom. A few minutes later, the assistant public defender sat down beside me. She thanked me, and I wished her and her baby well.
That day I learned I didn’t have to get so worked up and that assistant public defenders, like all other members of the community, can be friendly to police officers, in spite of what I was told.
Knowledge comes with experience
Police academies are not designed to teach police culture or the unwritten rules. Those are absorbed through courtroom culture, squad room conversations and years of watching how things actually work. Over time, I learned to exchange subtle nods in the hallways, stay professional and keep my distance on active and inactive cases. Nobody taught me that. Experience did.
The academy gives recruits knowledge. Experience, mentorship and time turn that knowledge into judgment. The public sees the badge and assumes that officer has both. Often, they have only the first.
In other professions, inexperience is often visible. Medical residents work under attending physicians. New pilots spend years under the supervision of experienced captains. But when a rookie police officer steps out of a squad car, no sign tells the public this may be their third month on the job. The badge looks the same.
Before they become veterans, they will eventually find themselves in a situation they were trained for, only to discover that real life has introduced something the academy could not have anticipated. A detail. A person. An emotion. A decision with no clear answer. And somewhere in the back of their minds will be the same question I once had: “Now what the heck do I do?”
Louis Martinez is a professor of law enforcement at Oakton College’s Des Plaines campus and a former Chicago Police Department officer. He has written about law enforcement issues for nearly two decades.