Cops Roll With ​“Change Of Conditions”

The phone woke me up on a Sunday morning after my last Saturday night of dancing and dining pre-Covid. Assistant Chief Herbert Sharp was on the other end. I must have sounded half-asleep.

“You up?” he asked, and then told me that I needed to write a policy on the department’s response to Covid-19.

“A policy?” I asked.

Shocked by this vulgar-sounding phrase, we looked up and waited for our instructions.

He paused, and told our class that we had to figure out what to do first and in time he would tell us the meaning of this acronym.  The mystery was short-lived.  We learned quickly that “COC” meant to stop whatever you were doing; prepare yourself for a change; and to embrace this change as the “new normal.”

Later defined, this expression stood for “Change of Conditions.”

In the academy, a change of conditions could be as simple as sitting down to devour the PB&J your girlfriend packed for lunch, when the PT instructor comes in and says it’s time to run from the Academy to Lighthouse Park. Little did we know, this training prepared our minds and hearts for the job.  The academy was our first taste of a “new normal.”  A job that requires you to expect the unexpected, embrace change and flexibility.

We were prepared years later when Covid-19 hit our department.  Prepared as individuals, prepared as a department.  We might not have had enough masks or bottles of Purell, but we were prepared to adapt, to seek solutions, and to support each other and the community we serve.

March 15, 2020, 9 AM

The phone woke me up on a Sunday morning after my last Saturday night of dancing and dining pre-Covid. Assistant Chief Herbert Sharp was on the other end. I must have sounded half-asleep.

“You up?” he asked, and then told me that I needed to write a policy on the department’s response to Covid-19.

“A policy?”  I asked.  “What needs to be included?”

Sharp sent some materials to review and instructed me to make sure it was thorough.

“We need to start building a road map. Our officers need a plan. They need guidance.”

That day I scoured the Internet for lessons learned and operations plans from departments that have experienced relevant incidents such as Toronto, Ontario (SARS in 2003) and Fairfax, Virginia (Anthrax bio-attacks in 2001).  I prepared a draft and conferenced with our city attorneys, chiefs and command staff.

After many revisions, the policy was signed and offered a first glimpse into our response plans.

The policy was premised with the caveat that it was issued in the “context of an evolving situation and would be updated as necessary.”  It was a roadmap for a road never traveled.

We have encountered twists and turns on this journey and have needed to revise the policy based on new information, changes in recommendations from the CDC, and what we have learned through trial and error.  Chief of Police Otoniel Reyes will soon sign the fourth version of the policy.

Same Day, 2 PM

Later on Sunday afternoon, Officers were dispatched to a call to assist the Fire Department with a combative patient.

This was a typical call, or so they thought, and they were not equipped with any special protective equipment.

Officer Michael Lozada, Officer Eric Aviles, and Officer Kenneth Cobb entered the apartment and heard a suicidal female, in a wheelchair, screaming incoherently.  When the officers told her she had to go to the hospital, she threw herself onto the ground and started to crawl towards her bedroom.

The officers lifted and carried her onto a stretcher.

The Health Department notified the officers a few days later that this individual tested positive for the virus. This was another first: the department’s first documented police call for service with a COVID-positive individual.

March 23, 2020

The chief announced in our daily Zoom meetings that one of our officers developed symptoms of the virus over the weekend.  Another first.  We wondered who, but the chief stressed the importance of maintaining the officer’s privacy.

I knew the officer, a friend on the job.  He agreed to speak with me about his experience as long as I didn’t use his name.

On Sunday, March 22, he was working a security job when his throat started to hurt, and his body began to ache. He left early and went straight to bed.

He woke up in the middle of the night with his clothes drenched in sweat and a temperature of 102 degrees. In the morning, he notified both his immediate supervisor and the manager of the security job where he was working when he developed symptoms.

The Health Department contacted him to arrange a test. He stayed in his room for a whole week, which made him feel like he was in solitary confinement. His family would knock on his door and leave food on a tray outside.

He was comforted by many calls of concern: the chiefs, friends, family, and he was pleasantly surprised to receive a call from Mayor Justin Elicker.

Between sleep, Netflix and TikTok videos, he passed the time, but his mind raced with thoughts that filled him with anxiety. Did he really have Covid-19, or maybe, hopefully, just the seasonal flu? Had he exposed anyone else at work? How would he be treated when he came back to work?

One week after he developed symptoms, he got the results: positive for Covid-19.  Although he was feeling better at the time, the results made him depressed.

Soon after he received a call from Asst. Chief Renee Dominguez. They discussed the test results and when he could come back to work.

Since he was the first, there were more questions than answers. The Health Department was still in the process of developing recommendations for the return to work of individuals that recovered from the illness.

Finally, close to three weeks after the onset of his symptoms, he returned to work. He had one negative experience, with a coworker who told him to stay away, but overwhelmingly everyone was relieved to see him back at work and healthy again.

He still has some anxiety and unanswered questions.  Since he doesn’t know if he is immune, he wears a Darth Vader-style respirator gifted to him by Detective Christian Bruckhart.  He can’t risk another exposure; once was enough.

March 28, 2020

One of the officers who responded to the call with the combative patient started to develop symptoms of the virus. He had a low-grade fever, headache and lost his sense of smell and taste. He tested positive.

Although his symptoms were never severe, he locked himself in his bedroom for almost a month, to avoid any chance of exposing his young family. He too felt surrounded by love from the department, friends and family and was touched that the mayor reached out and gave him his personal cell phone number.

It’s a Monday morning. I go to the Detail Room to have my daily chat with Lt. Wayne Bullock, the deputy patrol commander. We have become close over the years from our work together on the Accident Reconstruction Team. Our informal chats have developed a now formal, unfamiliar greeting.

I walk into the Detail Room and immediately wash my hands in the bathroom before I approach Wayne’s office. I stand outside his door, and he asks me a litany of questions: ​“Have you done anything you shouldn’t have? Did you have your hair or nails done? Do you have a cough?”

After I have assured Wayne that I have been a ​“good girl” and have no symptoms, he tells me to have a seat in ​“the chair,” which is a measured eight feet from his space.

I usually start the conversation with the pretext that I am there to speak about an accident investigation, but we both knew the truth. We need these talks as an outlet, a way to de-stress. We have all lost some of our common outlets, whether it is grunting and grimacing to the point of exhaustion at a weightlifting gym or grappling on the floor of a local dojo. We need to talk more. We are anxious; we are worried.

Most of all, cops are worried about their families. We don’t want to be their source of exposure to this sinister virus.

Wayne tells me about how he protects his family. At the end of the day he changes out of his uniform in his office. When he arrives home, he enters through the garage. Daily his wife leaves him some clean clothes inside of a cardboard box. He changes into his clean clothes and sprays his belt, gun, wallet and boots with a disinfect spray. He enters his house, throws his clothes into the wash and then scrubs his hands and face. He practices social distancing at all times. He doesn’t touch his wife or kids, sleeps in his own room and uses his own bathroom.

Other officers have chosen to protect their families by staying at the University of New Haven (UNH). Early on in the pandemic UNH opened up their facilities for use by first responders who wanted to quarantine away from their families.

Officer Scott Shumway lived for three weeks at UNH to protect his young children. Once the CVS testing site opened up on Long Wharf, he started to get regular tests and then felt it was safe to return home.

He said dorm living was certainly not reminiscent of college life. He was lonely and missed his family but was thankful that he had a place to stay so that he could make the sacrifice needed to keep his family healthy.

Covid Challenge, COC Met

I spoke to a newly-minted officer who graduated in the last academy class. I asked him if this is what he expected.

Without hesitation he said, ​“Absolutely, Lieutenant. This is why I wanted to be a cop. You never know what to expect. Every day is different, every call is different.

“I never imagined that I would be responding to a call wearing a mask or a biohazard suit. But that’s OK; we are doing our job. We interact with the public when they are in trouble and do our best to help.”

I was proud when I heard his response. This is what makes our department great. Despite the adversities and challenges we encounter, we love what we do and know that we are prepared for any ​“Change in Conditions.”

Lt. Rose Dell is officer-in-charge of records at the New Haven Police Department.

Previous Pandemic Diaries:

• Day 20: I’m A Fighter, Not A Quitter
• The View From Inside The ER
• Doc Glimpses Coming Covid-19 ​“Storm”
• The Distance Between Us Diminishes
• Seniors Stuck In Stop & Shop Jam