On Monday night, November 26, 2001, around 9:15 p.m., five police officers
responded to a call that would change their lives and how they thought about
each other.
“The rain was coming down in sheets, a thunderstorm was peaking,
and visibility was reduced to a few feet when dispatch got a call saying that
a man was on the Hernando DeSoto bridge and appeared to be suicidal.
“Officer Corey Vann was the first to respond. As he pulled onto
the bridge he saw a small black car on the side of the road. He said later
that the hairs on the back of his neck raised and a chill went through him.
‘It just didn’t feel right,’ he said.
“Getting soaked by the rain, Vann walked towards the car and
tapped on the right rear window. The driver was sitting perfectly still in the
front seat. He opened the window just enough to very calmly point a pistol at
Vann. Vann immediately sought cover, drew his weapon, and called for
backup.
“I was the first officer to arrive after Vann’s call and was
thinking it was just another baloney call, that probably somebody with a flat
tire had been mistaken for a jumper on the bridge.
“Then I saw Officer Vann retreating towards me with his pistol
drawn and knew this was real. ‘What do you have, Vann? What’s up with the
gun?’ I asked him. ‘He’s got a gun!’ he yelled excitedly and through the heavy
rain I could just barely see the weapon. About 30 yards away, the man held the
pistol under his chin very calmly. The storm and the winds were causing the
bridge to sway violently and I could feel my adrenaline kicking in.”
The story comes from Memphis Police officer Robert J. Tutko. On that
November night he “jumped the call,” that is, he heard the radio
dispatcher and decided to respond even though he specifically had not been
summoned. As a member of the MPD’s Crisis Intervention Team (CIT), Tutko had
dealt with such situations before. All CIT members — there are about 210 in
the department — receive extensive training on how to confront the mentally
ill and de-escalate volatile situations.
Memphis began the CIT program in 1988 after a mentally ill man was shot
and killed the prior year by police officers when he approached them wielding
a knife. The public outcry that resulted from the incident spurred then-Mayor
Dick Hackett to form a community task force charged with reforming the
procedures police used to deal with the mentally ill. Representatives from the
police force, community activist groups, mental-health professionals, and
academicians pooled their talents and resources and created the CIT. Memphis’
program, called the “Memphis Model,” is now the national model and
has received extensive praise and recognition.
During the 40 hours of training CIT officers receive, they visit mental-
health treatment facilities and meet with patients. Representatives from the
National Alliance for the Mentally Ill (NAMI) and mental-health
professionals donate their time to train the officers on everything from
identifying someone who suffers from a mental illness to the words and tones
of voice to use to calm the person.
“We show these officers that people with a mental illness are not
all harmful,” explains Major Sam Cochran, director of the Memphis CIT
program. “They get to see the personal side of mental illness, and that
makes the officers more understanding.”
When the CIT program was implemented, the MPD also changed the temporary
chain of command. On the scene of a call involving the mentally ill, the CIT
officer is in charge, regardless of the rank of any other officers present.
Officers say this cuts down on confusion at the scene and helps expedite the
process.
But the process is seldom simple.
“By now, Officers Chester Striplin and Brad Wilburn had arrived,
and I, as a Crisis Intervention officer, had charge of the scene. I told them
to take positions behind us and block traffic coming onto the westbound side
of the I-40 bridge. The Grizzlies game had just ended at The Pyramid and
traffic was building. Officer Duane Dugger also arrived and took up a position
behind his squad car. He drew his shotgun and aimed towards the man, who was
still in his car.
“I yelled to Vann that I was going to run to his car and grab his
PA to try to talk to the man. I asked Vann to cover me while I ran across the
open area. Once I had the PA, I began to talk at the man. He wouldn’t
really talk to us. He just shook his head ‘no’ and made sure we saw the
gun. We saw it.
“He became frustrated, I guess, and slowly started to drive
forward. We all just looked at each other, astounded, and I said, ‘Jump in
your car, Vann. I’ll drive mine towards him. Cover me.’ I drove my car at a
45-degree angle with every light flashing and pointing in his
direction.”
CIT officers volunteer to join the program, but before they are accepted
they undergo an interview process. Program coordinators use the interviews to
determine if the officer is a good match for the CIT. Major Cochran explains
that many of the current CIT officers have had some prior experience dealing
with mental illness. He says that many of the officers even have friends and
family who suffer from various mental illnesses.
“When the CIT officer gets the call they know that the ‘consumer’
[the term used to describe those receiving or in need of mental health
treatment], his family, and the community are depending on them,” says
Cochran. “A lot of these officers have a personal commitment to helping
this population.”
Tutko doesn’t have a family member with mental illness, but his
background played heavily in his decision to join the CIT. Prior to becoming a
police officer, he earned a Ph.D. and had a successful career as a radiology
educator. He trained many of the radiologic technologists currently working in
Memphis while he was director of the school of radiology at St. Joseph’s
Hospital and teaching classes at Baptist Minor Medical facilities. When St.
Joseph’s closed, Tutko found himself unemployed, and failing to find a
radiology job in Memphis, he decided to pursue his lifelong dream of being a
police officer.
“My wife never wanted me to do police work because she thought it
was too dangerous,” says Tutko. “So when St. Joseph’s closed and we
lost everything, I looked at her and asked, ‘Now can I be a police officer?’
She said, ‘Yes.'”
Three years later, at 46, he’s hardly typical of the force. Most of his
colleagues are between 21 and 25 years old and don’t have his life
experience.
“I’m a cop now; I’m one of them,” he says. “I think
sometimes that I should have done this 20 years earlier. But if I had, then I
wouldn’t have all the experience that I have and I wouldn’t have as much to
offer. I have a totally different life now.”
“Vann yelled to me to get out my big gun. Some CIT officers have
an SL-6, a weapon that looks like something out of Terminator 2. It’s a 37-mm
hard-baton launcher used to knock down an individual without killing him. I’m
very good with it.
“I pulled it from its case in the trunk and loaded it. Now the
guy got out of the car and was holding his pistol to his head and walking
towards the edge of the bridge. Vann and I were shouting, ‘You don’t have to
do this,’ and the man actually pointed his gun towards Vann and me twice, but
we didn’t fire at him. He was screaming for us to shoot, adding to the macabre
scene. I struggled to sight him with the SL-6 but was having a hard time
seeing him in the torrential rain.”
The SL-6 is an additional weapon available only to CIT officers who have
received special training. It fires hard plastic batons designed to take a
person out of commission without killing him. Officers are trained to set the
gun’s sight on the target’s body
since a shot to the head could be fatal. The baton usually knocks the
target down or out and the officer can gain control of the situation. Most
officers say that they rarely have to fire the weapon. Once suspects see it
they usually surrender.
In fact, CIT officers rarely use weapons at all. By utilizing the
communication skills they’ve been taught, officers are usually able to
convince the subject to voluntarily ride with the officer to the Regional
Medical Center for treatment.
“In those situations the individuals are really struggling,”
says Cochran. “We train the officers to soften their voices, use short
sentences, and repeat things again and again. The officers have to constantly
assure these individuals that they are safe.”
The benefits of this approach are twofold. It’s a safer tactic for those
suffering from mental illness. In other cities the mentally ill are often
simply arrested, handcuffed, and placed in jail — often receiving no
treatment. Many times they commit the same offense again after they are
released. But the CIT’s kindler, gentler approach has benefits for the
officers too.
“Three years prior to starting the CIT, the injury rate for officers
was eight times higher on mental-illness calls than on regular calls. Today
there is no difference between the injury rates,” says Dr. Randolph
Dupont, director for the Med’s Psychiatric Service. Dupont helps train CIT
officers and helps other cities implement the Memphis program.
Dupont says this lower incidence of officer injury is a top selling point
for other cities looking to implement the Memphis Model.
“Normally, when you talk to police departments about taking a
different approach with the mentally ill, they think, You’re going to get me
hurt,” says Dupont. “But this program is supplemental, not a
replacement. It provides a greater level of safety to the officer.”
“I noticed Lt. Tim Canady behind me trying to stop the eastbound
traffic coming from Arkansas. We all knew this scene was turning bad and that
we might have to kill this guy to keep it from getting worse. Vann and I
continued to yell at him not to do it but he swung one leg over the side of
the bridge. Finally I zeroed in on him with the SL-6 sight. But I realized
that if I hit him, he would fall off the bridge.
“Then he stepped back from the edge and started coming towards
me. Vann said something that distracted him and he started to lean towards the
ground. I took that brief instant to run towards him, jump over the concrete
barrier, and take him to the ground.
“I kicked the gun and watched it slide off the bridge to the
construction scaffold below. Handcuffing the man, I suddenly realized how hard
the rain was actually coming down. The man was crying and saying, ‘Why didn’t
you shoot? I wanted you to shoot.’ The guys all rushed to help and Lt. Canady
helped me get him to his feet.
“The man was shivering and crying and he was cold, so I took off
my coat and wrapped it around him. Just minutes earlier we thought he was
going to shoot us. Everyone let out a sigh of relief and worried about how we
were going to retrieve the gun that I had kicked off the bridge.
“Knowing that I had to get this guy off the bridge and to the Med
Psychiatric unit fast, I left and Lt. Canady escorted me. On the way, the man,
a 27-year-old, told us his sad story. He had been abused since he was young;
he came from a broken family and had experienced a lot of misfortune. He said
he had heard of the ‘suicide by cop’ ploy and really hoped we would shoot
him.
“I assured him he would be taken care of immediately when we
arrived at the Med. Officer Dugger was still on the bridge. He saw the gun
below and climbed down to recover it, probably cursing my name as he
did.
“While I was at the Med with the man, filling out paperwork, I
got a message from Dugger saying that the gun was a fake, a pellet gun that
looked so real officers on the scene couldn’t even tell when they held it in
their hands.”
Cochran, Dupont, and others all credit the cooperation between the
various groups — the police department, the Med, advocates, and treatment
providers — with the success of the Memphis Model.
“If you just have a police crisis response, that’s not nearly
enough,” says Cochran. “You have to have the commitment of the
entire community for it to work.”
“I am convinced that the CIT in Memphis is the best in the
nation,” says Turner Hopkins, a member of the local NAMI chapter who got
involved in the issue after a family member was diagnosed with a mental
illness. “Instead of treating the mentally ill in hospitals, much of the
nation is still warehousing them in jails.”
Cochran also says that because of the Med’s cooperation, an officer can
be back on the streets in as few as 15 minutes after surrendering a mentally
ill person to the Med’s care. In cities using other approaches, the officers
often have to wait several hours before returning to the streets.
Cochran and Dupont receive requests almost daily from police departments
in other cities interested in implementing the Memphis Model. According to
Dupont, almost 40 cities have or soon will have adopted the CIT program,
including Albuquerque, Seattle, San Jose, Minneapolis, Houston, Orlando,
Akron, Toledo, Kansas City, Salt Lake City, Jacksonville, Louisville, Roanoke,
Spokane, and Portland, Oregon. Programs will also be fully implemented in Fort
Lauderdale, Daytona Beach, Oklahoma City, Anchorage, Portland, Maine, and
Tucson. Already in 2002 Cochran and Dupont have received requests for
information from police departments in Los Angeles and Queensland,
Australia.
“This story could have had tragic consequences but the men on
that bridge that night made the right decisions, followed the orders given,
and it ended with no one hurt. We all met the next night with a critical-
incident debriefing team. It was a tremendous session and I know we all were
better for it.
“This is a story where everyone goes home and no one was shot or
killed. Maybe not what the media usually jumps on, but I thought you might
want to hear it.”
