Dave, we got in a fight with some guy and they think he’s gonna die. Homicide detectives want to interview me. Do I need an attorney?”

I was at home, dialed in at full chill mode, when the phone rang. If stress isn’t the bride of our profession, the two are definitely dating. And after 23 years of police work, I look forward to respite from that life-draining bitch whenever I can get it. But it’s my job to answer. And when I did, a member of the LEO labor organization I lead, speaking in pressured speech, described a good old-fashioned polyester pile-on followed by an unresponsive guy who, it was looking like, had taken his last hit of God only knows what. My chances for a woosah-filled evening began slipping away faster than a twenty in a tweaker’s pocket. But like I said, it’s my job. And the adrenaline in his voice told me he needed help. At least he remembered to think about an attorney and call me so I could get him one.

“Has a supervisor taken your body-worn camera?” I asked him.

It’s the first question I ask. Officer-to-peer representative communications are not privileged in Arizona. And while I always avoid asking for specifics, you never know what they might start rambling about when they are stressed. I know better than to make myself a potential witness.

He told me yes, that a supervisor had relieved him of his BWC. I told him I was on my way and that our attorney would be right behind me. “In the meantime, don’t talk to anyone,” I told him before hanging up. I haven’t met a homicide detective I don’t respect, but they have a job to do. And the Constitution doesn’t have an asterisk followed by the words “except for police officers.” A phone call to the attorney who represents our members got him moving. I then ripped a fresh set of business casual from the closet, slapped it on and headed for the door. To hell with woosah. It’ll have to wait.

A test of your leadership

If you lead a LEO labor organization, perhaps your most important duty is to be available for your members 24/7 when they need help following a critical incident. Your reputation as a leader is at stake. Unresponsiveness at critical times like these projects undependability. And if you, like me, are elected to lead a LEO labor organization, you know how important it is to carry the trust of your membership. Since critical incidents like officer-involved shootings and in-custody deaths happen when we least expect them, it’s wise to have a plan in place. Here are some points to consider for your initial response:

• Ensure 24/7/365 responsiveness with a clear callout process that your members understand.
• Have backups trained and ready to respond in case you are out of town or otherwise unavailable.
• Obtain information needed by your on-call attorney (who was involved, synopsis of what happened, location, etc.) from on-scene command, not involved officers.
• For officer-involved shootings, your members may be compelled to provide an initial public safety statement — understand your agency’s policy on this topic.
• Scramble as soon as possible to secure legal representation to support involved officers.
• Identify a private space where involved officers can consult with an attorney before making statements.

Don’t forget member care and wellness. Consider these points:

• Know your agency’s protocol for handling blood contamination on your members’ bodies or uniforms, and, in collaboration with investigators, ensure it is removed as soon as possible.
• Remind involved officers to check in with a loved one (beat the news).
• Provide food and hydration.
• Ensure involved officers know exactly when they are due back to work, in accordance with your agency’s specific administrative time-off policy.

Stay until the end

Maybe you set aside an evening of Bob Ross reruns (if you don’t know, trust me, look Bob up and try some happy trees — you’re welcome) to get your involved members this far. Now, finish strong. Stay until each one is cleared to go home. And offer them a ride. You will probably be turned down, but this gesture lets them know you are committed to seeing them through until the very end of one of the worst shifts they will ever experience. Tell them you are glad they are OK and that you will follow up with a phone call in a couple of days.

Follow-up calls

Follow-up calls are an extension of member care. But resist the urge to call the following day. Critical incidents have a way of shooting a sleep cycle to hell and back. There is a high probability that a restless night answered with a sporadic day of sleep will follow a critical incident. Give them a couple of days to get back on track. Then, keep follow-up calls short. Understand that your call will likely trigger a stress response that will, emotionally, drag them back to the incident. I ask two questions and end with a statement:

• How are you?
• Do you need anything?
• I’m glad you’re OK, reach out if you need anything.

I’ll talk longer if they want, but they usually won’t. I don’t play counselor because I’m not one. But I know how to get my members professional help if needed. If nothing else, these calls let your members know you care about them. And there’s nothing wrong with that.

It turns out the dope who fought with my guys and gave my evening woosah the middle finger survived. The investigation revealed that the officers acted appropriately during the arrest and then got him medical attention when he went limp. They were cleared. And that officer whose pressured speech interrupted my Bob Ross reruns? He’ll never forget that I was there for him during that difficult time. For me, that’s the good stuff. And it makes those waiting happy trees a little happier when I make it back to them. RIP, Bob.