Sometimes, I feel like I belong in law enforcement. There was a time in my life that I seriously
considered a career where I would haul in the bad guys and make society a
better place. Of course, every American
male youngster fantasized that he would one day drive the Aston Martin, get the
girl, defuse the bomb, and sip on a martini that was shaken, not stirred. I was no different. I was 10 years old then when my pal Lewis and
I were secret agents with the requisite weapons, invisible ink and secret codes. At the risk of disclosing that I have a
tincture of obsessive compulsiveness, I still retain the files of our secret
organization. While Lewis has expressed
concern that these files in the wrong hands could threaten international order,
I have reassured him that the enemies of mankind will be unable conquer our layers
of sophisticated encryption. At risk of
being accused of hyperbole, Israeli and American intelligence agencies studied
our secret files as a template for the Stuxnet worm.
I have had many patients who are law enforcement
professionals. I respect them and the
work they do. I have had patients who
served in the FBI, the Secret Service and all levels of local law enforcement. I
feel a kinship with these folks. Like a
community gastroenterologist, much of what they do is routine. We both endure endless paperwork that often
seems to serve no useful function. We
both are exposed to extremes of the human condition. We both get scared. We both serve a public that is sometimes
skeptical of our biases and motivations.
We both may need to make urgent decisions relying upon our training,
experience and instincts. We both
deeply understand that sometimes the right decision leads to a dark result.
Last November in Cleveland, 2 people were killed by police
after a harrowing high-speed chase. It
was a tragic finale that left many painful and raw questions. Thirteen officers fired 137 rounds that
killed two citizens who were ultimately found to be unarmed. Understandably, there was outrage in the
communities, and the matter continues to be under investigation. As expected, the initial facts were murky and
in dispute. Anger and haste are poor
catalysts to develop the truth.
I have no opinion at this time if law enforcement personnel
should have held their fire and pursued a non-lethal strategy of capturing
these two individuals who were fleeing from them at high velocity. A dispassionate investigation will determine
this.
But, while it absolutely necessary to investigate this
tragic episode, as a doctor, I am very sensitive about being judged after the
fact by investigators who have endless manpower, resources, audio and video
evidence and months of time to evaluate the propriety of a split second
decision. A catastrophic outcome is not
evidence of negligence, despite the ease of reaching this conclusion,
particularly by those who have been injured and their families. In
addition, a fair judgment on what transpired must consider the context of one
who had to make an immediate decision to act.
If an investigation requires a 4 month inquiry involving dozens of
professionals to conclude that an officer erred, could the policeman be
expected to reach the same conclusion in 2 seconds in the field?
When football referees review a call on the field, sometimes
the call is reversed. Of course, the
review offers instant replay in slow motion at various angles, none of which
were available to the official who first made the call. Get the point?
None of us envies a cop who faces a situation where he must
discharge his weapon. Sure, there is
training, but as every professional knows, one can’t train for every
contingency. This is not a board exam;
this is real life with lethal consequences and no time to ponder the
alternatives. Was the suspect reaching
for a weapon or an innocuous item? I
can’t imagine the lifelong trauma one would endure after killing another
person, even if this was a necessary act. I suspect it would be a greater trauma if a policeman didn’t pull the
trigger when he should have, and missed the opportunity to save innocent
lives.
I was raised to respect law enforcement, and I do. While their job is tougher than mine, I can
personally relate to their profession.
We both serve and protect the public.
We both make decisions based on what we know at the time, which is often
less than we want to know. We agonize
when something awful happens and wonder if we contributed to the outcome.
There’s something else that binds our professions. We both are often judged retrospectively by
those who weren’t there when we were blinded by white heat and couldn’t see
then what later seems to be in such clear focus.
We learn from our errors and misadventures. As readers know, I believe that the
negligent must be accountable for their actions and resultant
consequences. The process to determine
this, however, must operate at the highest level of fairness and
integrity. Too often, this standard is not achieved or
even reached for.
And now, my thoughts wander back to Miss Moneypenny, ‘Q’,
boat chases and ejector seats, when I contemplated a profession that I know now is better left to other others.
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