Inside The Thin Blue Line

By Grace Lazzara

 

Each day, law enforcement officers are on the streets fighting crime and coming against some of the worst on-the-job stress and danger around. Oftentimes, the strain for officers and their families can be too much to handle alone. That’s where Cindy Goss comes in.

Cindy Goss

It was the first time I dealt with a fallen officer’s family. I went to the emergency department and waited for the family members to tell them what had happened. Then I had the honor of returning the officers wallet and badge to his wife. When I went to her home, she was there with her clergyman and kids. I spent time playing with her 4-year-old daughter, talking to her. She had been told that her father was in Heaven, and she asked me, ‘When is daddy coming home from heaven?’ That broke my heart.”

So recalls Cindy Goss ’84 who, because of this poignant event, is now working on a book for law- enforcement officers’ families and the public that will include stories written by officers’ children.

She perceptively calls officers “ordinary people who do an extraordinary job.”

Indeed, Goss cites off the top of her head statistics related to officers’ job-related stress: “The average life span for law-enforcement officers is between 57 and 59 years; their life expectancy after retirement is around five years,” she says. “They experience double the national averages for divorce and domestic violence. Every 22 hours an officer commits suicide. One- third of them suffer from post-traumatic stress disorder. Estimates say that one in four develops alcohol- related problems.”

Goss should know. She’s one of the creators and developers of Catch A Falling Star, an internationally recognized employee assistance program (EAP) for the law-enforcement community. During her 17 years with the program, she’s come in constant contact with the stress under which law enforcers operate daily.

Goss’ belief in the need for Catch A Falling Star is palpable. “We owe them because they put their lives on the line every day. They should have the best treatment and assistance available that we can afford them.

 

“We teach recruits how to shoot someone but not how to deal with the effects of doing that. We let them know, from the time they’re recruits, that it’s OK to be a human being.”

Critical program

Catch A Falling Star assists police officers, sheriff’s deputies and others in law enforcement who have been involved in a “critical incident” — a sudden, unexpected event that’s outside the normal realm of everyday activity and the normal range of stress. Such incidents may include a colleague’s suicide or death, shootings, crimes or disasters with mass casualties, prolonged rescue attempts and more.

The offers peer assistance from specially trained fellow officers, exclusive AA meetings, special out-

patient services with area hospitals and a network of counseling professionals experienced in the culture of law enforcement.

Catch A Falling Star runs not only in Western New York but also in Canada and Australia .

Though Goss has been in the thick of it since the beginning, she seems as surprised as anyone that she’s lasted nearly 20 years with the program. “If you had asked me 10 years ago, I would have thought you were crazy. But I stuck with it because there was nothing like this available.”

The program has its roots in Goss’ experience as director of Erie County ’s general EAP. In her purview were the Erie County Sheriff’s Office and Alden Correctional Facility. Goss noticed that the program wasn’t getting any referrals from the two law-enforcement agencies. Not only that, she found it difficult communicating with them about the assistance program. “They’d say, ‘You’re not one of us, you don’t understand,’” she recalls.

Crucially, after the first six months of her tenure, she took a call from an officer whose brother had admitted him to a detox program at a local facility. “He called me to get him out,” she says. “He’d recognized another detox patient as someone he had recently arrested during a drug raid and feared for his safety.”

Goss and her colleagues saw the danger in the officer’s situation and realized they needed to find another facility for him. After finding an appropriate out-of-state program for the officer--who successfully returned to work--Goss received a referral after an officer was killed in line of duty. Though she responded to his traumatized colleagues, she realized she really didn’t have the experience necessary to give the right kind of help. She asked other police agencies and found out how and where she could get educated on responding to officers in crisis. Once Goss had the training she needed, then-Erie County Sheriff Thomas Higgins gave her the chance to work with his agency. She created a special EAP for officers and a Critical Incident Stress Debriefing Team, training sheriff’s officers to respond to any critical incident with other officers or emergency responders like EMTs or firefighters.

The going wasn’t easy. “They tested me,” says Goss. “They’d have someone give me a bogus problem to see how long it would take for me to divulge their personal problem to the department. That’s OK, because they were learning to trust me. It’s the nature of the beast.”

Captain Larry Eggert of the Lockport Police Department would probably agree with Goss about trust. In February 2003, he and his partner investigated a case in which a gunman had shot a man with an AK-47 automatic rifle and sprayed the front of a bar with bullets. Eggert and his partner responded to the call that the suspect had been located. At the scene, the suspect shot both officers, Eggert in the shoulder, his partner in the chest and leg.

During Eggert and his partner’s first hours in the hospital, Goss offered crisis intervention counseling to their families and coordinated efforts with the Buffalo Police Department, who was providing meals for the families. “The law enforcement community is kind of closed. We don’t trust many people,” Eggert says. “To find someone you can unburden yourself to is extremely difficult. But Cindy eased those first 24 hours.”

The ability to communicate within the culture of law enforcement--the tacit dictate to swallow emotion, mordant sense of humor, aggressive attitude—was critical. “They have to allow you to be part of their family. When you learn the dynamics of working with them and their personality traits, word starts to get out, and you earn a reputation.”

She also found that law enforcers get stuck between internal discipline and public condemnation, oftentimes leaving them with nowhere to turn in crisis. Explains Lockport PD’s Eggert: “We’re the big, strong people; nothing is supposed to bother us.”

Goss agrees. “When I first started doing this, I saw the devastation and pain in their lives. I wanted to do what I could to help.”

Growing scope

Goss’s reputation did grow, and neighboring police agencies—the Erie County Police Academy and the Buffalo Police Department— began requesting similar programs.

The black humor that found Goss as its target signaled her arrival in the world of law enforcers. “They joke: ‘When you see Cindy, some one screwed up, or something bad happened.’”

Goss continues, more seriously, “I can’t tell you the days and nights we spend in the corridors of Erie County Medical Center making sure an officer makes it through.”

The program’s name comes from the questions Goss gets about how she and her team save a job, a marriage, a life . . . “We say you’ve got to catch them before they fall.

And the star is the badge of every aw-enforcement officer.” Catch A Falling Star has grown steadily in scope. Currently, each participating WNY law-enforcement agency has one officer trained to identify officers who are having problems. The issues vary, and not every problem is the same for every officer. “They might also have private issues that affect how they react,” Goss notes.

In addition, the police academy now offers education about job stress. All new recruits receive critical-incident stress training. They’re also required to bring one family member to a special program that introduces them to the hazards of the law enforcement family and the resources available in the event of a critical incident. Says Goss, “We teach recruits how to shoot someone but not how to deal with the effects of doing that. We let them know, from the time they’re recruits, that it’s OK to be a human being.”

Dispatchers and other appropriate civilians get similar training. As well, all supervisors are trained when they’re promoted so they can more easily identify officers with problems before their agency’s internal discipline mechanism kicks in.

Goss also has identified counseling professionals who have a good rapport with officers, who, she says, “can be intimidating if you don’t know what they’re like. We have to have people who can stand up to  hem and say, ‘You’re not in charge here.’”

The single most important aspect of the program, Goss believes, is a “safe environment that they can trust to work out their stress. They have to know it’s available before a tragedy happens. We have one shot to get a person to a counselor, so we have to get them to someone who’s the best we can get because we could lose them.”

Goss also specifically credits the peer officers who care for their colleagues. “Without them and their assistance, none of us would be where we are.” Captain Eggert adds “she’s kind of an unheralded hero. She filled a niche that no one else did, and for her it’s a labor of love more than money. She’s gone out of her way to make herself available.”

Memories of crisis Goss easily calls up milestones in her career. She says one of her proudest moments was her coordination of a massive drill that focused on the mental-health effects of a disaster. She staged a bus hijacking by terrorists who were trying to get to the airport to get out of the country. The drill included 15 hostages held at “gunpoint,” 125 law-enforcement responding personnel from federal, state and county agencies from the U.S. and Canada , mental health professionals, clergy who work with emergency responders, peer officers and others. A post-drill debriefing focused not on how participants had responded, but on how they felt emotionally.

She also vividly recalls her experiences after the World Trade Center attacks. Arriving in New York City just hours after the event, she responded with a group of peer officers, providing ‘round-the-clock debriefings to police and firemen working the “pile.” “We tried to make sure they were mentally handling the side effects of being traumatized—not being able to eat or sleep, alcohol consumption, etc.,” says Goss. “They were distraught, in shock. There was really nothing we could do to help except be there for them.”

Proof in the pudding

Goss cites the results she sees from her team’s efforts in developing and implementing the EAP. Since 1988, the team has dealt with well over a thousand officers and family members. “Today we see more self- referrals by officers or their family members than referrals mandated by a department head,” she notes.

“Some 95 percent of Western New York ’s enforcement-agency management supports the peer-helping mechanism. That means (the program is) working.”

The program’s success is also evident in the attention it has received from outside the law- enforcement world. When ABC’s “Prime Time Live” produced a segment on police suicide, it featured the efforts of Goss and several peer officers working to reduce the officer suicide rate in WNY.

Furthermore, Goss served as a consultant on an HBO documentary on the Memphis Police Department called “War on the Street.” She also took part in an A&E documentary on the uniqueness of officers and why general EAP or generic psychotherapists don’t work for them.

A book called Copshock about surviving post-traumatic stress disorder listed Catch A Falling Star as a resource. And an AP International article on police suicides cited the program as one of best in the U.S.

Goss doesn’t rest on any laurels, however. “I’d like to make sure that every police agency in the country has a program like this.

We pay more on fixing cars and copy machines than we do on officers’ mental health. Someone has to care about these people who sacrifice their mental and physical health and families for us. We owe this to them for what they do for us. We can make a difference in their lives.”

Grace Lazzara is a freelance writer and public relations consultant residing in Buffalo , N.Y.

 

A Reprint from A Publication for Alumni, Family, and Friends Published three times annually by Hilbert College 5200 South Park Avenue Hamburg , New York 14075 TEL (716) 649-7900 FAX (716) 558-6381 www.hilbert.edu E-MAIL alumni@hilbert.edu 2005