he said. “Information is a double-edged sword, capable of setting us free or binding us by our knowledge. We have to make good use of our knowledge and information, understanding when to let go of what we think we know in favor of what we may know. We should also look for opportunities to include others in decision-making processes and to appreciate disagreement. If every time one of us speaks the other nods in affirmation, one of us is unnecessary. Each one of us is compelled then to offer and evaluate alternatives to find the best of the available options.
“We need to help our criminal justice professionals find new directions. We must learn to approach our problems differently and recognize that many of our current difficulties have originated from outdated models. Change is recognized as the one constant in the universe, yet we spend an inordinate amount of time resisting it. Isn’t it funny how we do that?
“The time for change, Alan, is now! We can ill afford to wait for a time when it feels better. Every day women are being battered, and people are being assaulted, murdered, raped, and robbed! Children are being beaten, sexually assaulted and taken from their families! Every—single—day! There are injustices in our courts. Offenders are abused within the corrections system and persecuted once they get out. The human tragedy continues, and more for reasons of comfort than anything else.
“The whole of the criminal justice system has been slow to change because change is uncomfortable. But tell me, what could be more uncomfortable than being raped? What could be more uncomfortable than having your son stolen and not knowing what indignities or horrors he may have been forced to endure? What could be more uncomfortable than being robbed, having a gun shoved in your face, having your home burglarized, or being beaten senseless because someone didn’t like your race or perceived sexual orientation? What could be more uncomfortable than having your rights or the rights of others abused? You tell me what could be more uncomfortable.”
I was completely dumbfounded. Everything he said was right on, and it was so simple. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t thought it out for myself. Even before Donnie went to prison, I knew the system wasn’t what it should be. I guess I just didn’t care enough to get involved. That’s the way of things, isn’t it? We don’t care until it affects someone we love.
Chief Dylan was on a roll. He continued by saying, “We have to develop a willingness to not only accept change but to regard it as an ally. We’re being pushed into a future of uncertainty. If we’re to take advantage of new opportunities, we need to change directions with ever-increasing speed and frequency. The current system is self-perpetuating and ensures the continuation of the indignities of the past we see to this day. We need a well-designed system based on doing the right thing, one developed with understanding.”
Chief Dylan was eloquently articulate. He reminded me of a preacher. As he talked, he used his hands to magnify the importance of his words. Sometimes his voice was almost a whisper, although not one you’d ever have to strain to hear and, as he became more passionate, his voice thundered with the force of his conviction. He was intense, and it wasn’t hard to tell he believed everything he said. This wasn’t idle chatter filled with popular platitudes and rhetoric. It was a revelation. I needed answers and I knew now I’d come to the right place to get them.
“We who call ourselves criminal justice professionals simply must begin to think creatively,” he said, “to take risks in developing solutions to problems in the designing of effective preventive mechanisms. We need to be managers sufficiently empowered to act in the best interest of the people, and we have to empower each citizen to take an active role in the development of future systems. The system needs to become one of acknowledged interdependence. It must be a true partnership where average people are as important as the police officer, the judge, the correctional worker, or the aftercare specialist. Information must necessarily be shared among us unselfishly in every direction. The fear and distrust some members of our society have of the system must be converted into respect and understanding. The lines and levels of communication must be opened and enhanced so we can solve our collective problems collectively.
“Change tends to be difficult, and it often comes with a heavy price tag. Consternation is a natural by-product of change, and individuals working for change sometimes become highly visible and accessible targets. Not much incentive for becoming a change agent, huh?” Chief Dylan stood and walked over to his desk. He opened the middle drawer and pulled out a handful of change. “Would you care for something to drink?” he asked.
“Sure,” I said, “what are my choices?”
“There’s always coffee; after all, this is a police station and some things never change.” We both laughed. “You can also have tea, Coke, Pepsi, diet Coke, Sprite, or pink lemonade.”
“I’ll have a pink lemonade.”
“Good choice. I think I’ll have one, too,” he said.
As he left the room, I heard him tell Sheri he was getting us something to drink.
“I just had something a little while ago,” she said. “How’s it going in there?”
He was moving away when he said, “That’s a question better posed to Alan. He’s the one looking for answers.”
Sheri poked her head through the door and said, “Finding what you’re looking for?”
“And more,” I replied. Sheri walked over near the bookcases and picked up a small piece of lint from the floor. “When he answers your questions, he doesn’t just provide an answer; he gives you an underlying philosophy,” she remarked.
Chief Dylan strolled back through the door. “Here you go,” he said, handing me an ice-cold lemonade. He looked at Sheri, gave a sly smile and said, “None for you.”
Sheri quickly turned, flipped her head slightly and gave a squeaky, deliberately effeminate sort of “Humph” as she pretended to storm out of the room, closing the door behind her. I couldn’t help laughing.
The chief just stood there looking at the closed door. Then he turned to me and said, “What?” as if he had somehow been personally injured. He cracked a smile and said, “Back to it, then. We don’t have much time left, but perhaps we can squeeze in a couple more questions if I can keep my responses a bit more succinct.”
“Good,” I said, “because I’d like you to identify some problem areas in the system and what you believe needs to be done to fix them. I mean, what are we doing about crime?”
“This may not be the best analogy I’ve ever used, but crime is similar in some ways to an infestation,” he said. “Whenever I use this analogy it generally makes it easier for the person I’m talking with to see that the methods we’ve been using to eradicate crime are fallible, so bear with me for a minute. Look, we’ve been trying to rid our communities of this ‘infestation’ by standing on the periphery, attempting to catch the bad guys one at a time as they become problematic enough to pop up on our radar. Then, we haphazardly use aggressive enforcement tactics, zero tolerance strategies, and dedicated warrant services, hoping to get lucky enough to arrest and/or incarcerate an unusually large number of violators. Those we don’t catch we’re satisfied to push into the surrounding communities. Unfortunately, such endeavors merely remove or displace the problem temporarily. You see, those we incarcerate eventually get out, and the displaced return as soon as conditions are favorable. Additionally, others will attempt to fill the vacuum left by those we’ve jailed or pushed out, exploiting what they see as an open market. So, while aggressive policing may produce an impressive short-term reduction in crime, long-term the offenders return and so do the problems. We simply can’t hope to rid ourselves of criminality by standing on the outside of
