Lather, Rinse, Repeat.

When a new police recruit attends the police academy, a great deal of time is spent training new officers on how to deal with one of the most commonly encountered calls; domestic violence. It is widely accepted that calls involving family violence are exceptionally high risk. The reasons for this are apparent; emotions run extremely high in conflicts between romantic partners and family members. Often, emotions can be turned against the police responding to settle these disputes, some of which have simmered for years. 

Perhaps one of the hardest lessons for new police officers is how to deal with the volatile relationship dynamics present when dealing with domestic violence calls. In an instant, emotions can turn quickly, especially after seeing a loved one led away in handcuffs. Learning about the “cycle of violence” that often exists in dysfunctional domestic relationships is one thing. Seeing it play out before your eyes in real-time is quite another. 

Police officers are often portrayed as jaded and unsympathetic in dealing with these scenarios, and I do not deny that some are indeed insensitive and uncaring. Rates of domestic violence within the profession are higher than that of the general population, and this no doubt plays a role in some cases. But I suspect that there is another more human factor at work. The process of responding, often at significant risk, repeatedly, to the exact location, to deal with the same offender and victim can be exhausting, and at times come to feel almost pointless. Add to that a legal system that remains mainly indifferent to the serious problem of domestic violence, and you have a recipe for disaster. 

One afternoon, early in my career, I experienced a call that at the time seemed quite unique. However, as the years passed, calls like it would come to seem more and more routine. Dispatched to an apartment complex for a violent domestic dispute, my district partner and I raced through heavy mid-afternoon traffic as our dispatcher frequently updated us on the status of the call. A female caller, staying on the line with 911, was relaying information about her roommate’s boyfriend as he attempted to force his way into the apartment through a first-floor window. The caller stated that she was in the apartment with her roommate and her young daughter. As we drew closer, the updates grew grimmer, the boyfriend now inside the condo, choking the victim on the floor of the kitchen. As we pulled into the apartment complex, dispatch advised that they now had an open line, with screaming heard in the background.

As we entered the vestibule leading to each individual apartment, the suspect, apparently unaware of our arrival, ran from the apartment and directly into our path. A knockdown fight ensued. Reeling drunk and quite strong, the suspect resisted violently as we managed to pull him to the ground and wrestle him into a set of handcuffs. It was at that point that I heard a woman’s voice screaming, “don’t hurt him, I love him.” Looking up, I saw a young woman standing over me, her face contorted in rage. “Let him go,” she screamed at me, “I don’t want him arrested.” Even in the dim light of the entryway, I could easily see the marks on her face and neck where he had beaten and choked her. I ignored her for the moment and, with my partner’s assistance, dragged the still struggling suspect to the cage in my partner’s patrol car, where I left the two of them to go back inside. 

Entering the apartment, I first spoke to the victim, asking her permission to have the ambulance crew I had summoned come inside to check her out. Glaring at me, she nodded in assent, initially refusing to speak to me. While the ambulance crew treated her, I talked to the woman who had called us, explaining that I would need her statement as a witness. She quickly agreed and sat down to give me a deposition as her roommate angrily looked on. Finishing up, I turned to the victim. I asked if she would be willing to also give me a statement, explaining first that I was making the arrest under my own authority and that her cooperation, though it would be beneficial, was not needed. She refused at first but then seemed to have second thoughts as she realized that I, not she, would be signing the arrest paperwork. 

As we spoke, the bleak picture of her life began to unfold. The daughter of a police officer, she had moved out at age 18 and started a series of failed relationships, culminating at age 23 with her current one, which had produced their daughter, now age 2. She eventually confided that the abuse she had suffered today was a regular occurrence in her home and alluded to having seen her mother suffer similar abuse when she was a child. She went on to say that she had never had her boyfriend arrested before. I thanked her for helping me with the arrest paperwork and made my exit. 

A short while later, we were in front of a local judge. I requested bail and a “stay away” order of protection, both of which were quickly granted, and soon we were on our way downtown. My ride to the jail was punctuated by insults and curses from the back seat. My prisoner enraged that he was getting locked up, venting his outrage on me. Gratefully handing him over to the booking deputies, I left the jail and went back on patrol, already beginning to feel sore from the fight. After finishing my shift, I thought a little more about the encounter, comfortable knowing that the perpetrator was in jail where he belonged.  

A few weeks later, as I patrolled the apartment complex where the incident had taken place, I spotted the suspect, beer in hand, barbecuing steaks on a small grill outside the woman’s apartment. Seeing my approach, he waved mockingly, his mouth twisted into a smirk. Running a quick check through our records office, I learned that the order of protection I had asked for had been rescinded days earlier at the request of the victim, who had paid her boyfriend’s bail only a day after his arrest. Within a few weeks, the district attorney dropped all of the charges. All of my hard work and the considerable risk my partner and I had taken were simply disregarded. I felt disgusted and disillusioned.

I suspect there is no experienced cop alive who does not have a litany of stories similar to this one. I know I collected many more of my own as the years went by. Regular domestics were sometimes called “frequent fliers” by the cops on patrol, who often grew so familiar with some families they were on a first-name basis with victims and suspects alike. The frustration that comes from dealing with the same problem over and over, with no resolution, can become maddening. And some cops are unfortunately ill-equipped to deal with that frustration and maintain their professionalism. Cynicism creeps in, and the public suffers. 

While none of this is an excuse for any dereliction of duty, it can and should serve as instructive for those most critical of our legal system and the police, who are its most visible feature. Police are human beings. When all aspects of the system they work under do not act with a shared mission, failure is the result. In the case of victims such as the one I described, courts can and should maintain orders of protection despite protests from victims, who are often intimidated by their abusers into asking the courts to rescind these orders. District attorneys must press for jail time when there is violence involved in a domestic incident. Counseling should be made available as well, but incarceration is a must. Charges brought by police as opposed to victims should be pursued regardless of victim cooperation. 

In my career, I interacted with several women who were eventually murdered by the men they lived with despite our best efforts to assist them. All of these women requested and received help from the police many times before being murdered by their husbands or boyfriends. As police officers, it is our sacred responsibility to protect people whenever we can do so. We cannot allow our own negative experiences to poison the well of our commitment to this idea. But the police are not alone in this fight. More can and must be done to support the role police play in fighting domestic violence.