CARIBOU, Maine — A sad truth for the Caribou Police Department is that they’re losing law enforcement officers, and Chief Michael Gahagan believes it may be a sign of the times.
Gahagan said new recruits just aren’t sticking around anymore. What used to be a calling to care for the community has now become a two-year stepping stone to another job. “The grass is always greener,” he said.
“The federal government is giving less grants,” Gahagan said about funding his department uses to hire new officers. Small departments like his are forced to compete with larger departments when it comes to receiving grants. “Unless you have a full-time grant writer, like larger departments have, that’s who you’re competing against,” he explained.
“When 25 officers are added to a large department like Detroit it makes for a good headline, but probably won’t have an impact on crime,” he said. “Adding just one police officer to a small community can make a big difference.”
County police departments had a relationship with the universities in Presque Isle and Fort Kent to churn out new recruits. Students in a criminal justice program previously had the option of acquiring 100 hours of in-service training to receive their officer certification to help departments out part time. But that changed after the Maine Criminal Justice Academy changed their training regulations.
“When things changed we lost our feeder,” Gahagan said.
Smaller departments like Caribou’s depend on citizens who work full-time jobs, but still want to help the station in a part-time capacity. Now, if a person wants to train as an officer in Maine, they have to complete a multi-phase program at the academy, which is a four-hour drive south to Vassalboro if they live in The County. Any training is good training, but to expect someone to go through the Academy just to work part-time, it just isn’t going to happen, Gahagan said.
“We’re at a disadvantage with the Academy. Extra training helps, but the time it takes hurts the recruiting process for smaller departments,” he said.
The Presque Isle Police Department is also facing a lack of officer applications, “We have few applicants. Applications used to be piled up in the corner,” PIPD Chief Matt Irwin said.
With a certificate from the Academy, an officer can get a job anywhere in the state and they’ll most likely go where they’ll get paid the most, Irwin said.
On top of day-to-day obligations, County police departments are concerned that today’s younger generation isn’t interested in law enforcement, “People are open to other opportunities and kids these days aren’t looking at law enforcement that way,” Irwin said.
Gahagan partially blames the change in attitude on today’s youth or what he calls the “Me Generation.” “[Becoming an officer] is about doing something for your community,” he said. “I don’t know if the idea of community service is instilled in the younger generation.” The change, Gahagan believes, first started when officers were pulled off the streets and shoved into cars, “Their interaction with the community has changed. Now you have reactive cops and not community policing.”
Law enforcement officers are expected to act as social workers and mental health experts on top of their normal duties. Stretched thin already, the sign of no new blood leaves the rest of the force to pick up the slack, which is just another added pressure.
“Society dishes out more and more tasks and policies we’re not able to meet,” Chief Gahagan said. With increasing pressures coupled with a lack in funding it can leave an officer wondering why they took the job in the first place.
With the recent events involving police using deadly force around the country, smaller departments are at the mercy of the fallout and the changes administrators make as a reaction to what happens in urban areas. Those changes may not always work for smaller communities, Gahagan said.
Taxpayers go to the police for help, but where do the police go when they need help? When the expectation of being an officer gets to be too much, there’s really no place for them to go, they only have each other to depend on.
“That’s why we call it a brotherhood,” Gahagan said.
‘Society dishes out more and more tasks and policies we’re not able to meet.’
– Chief Michael Gahagan
