We met in the summer of 1993. Our flirtation was akin to the mating ritual of birds-of-paradise dancing toward each other with their colorful outstretched wings. I knew her problematic family history all too well.

Her cousin in Washington, DC, routinely chased my friends and me through alleyways simply because we were young and Black. Her Atlanta cousin held me at gunpoint mere blocks from my college campus because I “fit the description.” I don’t know why I fell for her like I did. I was more shocked than anyone when I said, “I do” and vowed, “to protect and serve.”

In my relationship with law enforcement, I’ve experienced some of my highest highs and lowest lows. I lost a friend to a line of duty death and another because he betrayed his oath of office.

I truly thought I was doing the lord’s work. But I continued to struggle with the reality of being a Black man with a badge and gun entrusted with the authority to summarily take another person’s life.

Despite the internal conflicts, which gnawed at my soul, I continued to serve one way or another as a police officer for nearly a decade. In my early twenties, I was a full-time officer. For the past seven years, I have been a reserve and part-time police officer.

I tarried on in the belief that my service was sufficient to change the flawed dynamics and cracked foundation of American policing. In my mind, I was this super magical unicorn of a Black man who, by my very presence, would change American policing. I convinced myself the love and passion I gave would be rewarded with systemic change. Somewhere along the line, I recognized my relationship with policing was premised on a love that never was.

This month I completed my final shift as a police officer. I have mixed feelings about ending this nearly ten years long journey. Although it felt, at times, like a loveless relationship, I’m not leaving regrets because each experience on this journey has contributed to the man I’m today. I leave with a treasure trove of lifelong friends and invaluable life lessons.

I step away at a moment in history where American policing stands at a crossroads. As a former police officer and member of Denver’s Citizen Oversight Board, I’m acutely aware of the challenges facing modern policing. Police departments are struggling to recruit and retain quality officers. According to 2021 data from the Colorado Peace Officers Standards and Training Board, Colorado law enforcement agencies have only been able to replace 73% of vacancies.

Many have speculated as to why law enforcement agencies are struggling to recruit and retain. The most prominent theory posited by law enforcement is the lack of community and political support, as evidenced by the “defund the police” movement. Oftentimes it is said that perception is reality. In this case, I categorically reject this truism as it applies here.

Across the nation, police department budgets have continued to increase. President Joe Biden’s Safer America Plan proposes an investment of $35 billion to, among other things, fund the recruitment of an additional 100,000 police officers. Nearly 40% of Denver’s 2022 municipal budget is consumed by public safety spending, which includes funds for 144 new officers.

Regardless of the reasons for law enforcement’s recruitment challenges, the most significant challenge facing law enforcement is diminished public trust and, in some communities, the complete erosion of public trust. To paraphrase the father of modern policing, Sir Robert Peel, successful policing begins and ends with the level of trust it enjoys from the public.

As I end this chapter of my life, I share these parting words on how to restore public trust:

1.     Restoring public trust must become the primary objective of American policing.

2.     Accountability to and radical transparency with the public must become core values.

3.     Acknowledge racism is still all too prevalent in American policing.

4.     Embrace civilian oversight as a significant value-added.

5.     Take community concerns seriously.

So long, my love that never was.

Terrance Carroll is a former speaker of the Colorado House. The first and only African American to ever hold that position in Colorado. He is a Baptist preacher, attorney, and police officer. He is on Twitter @speakercarroll.

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