Faith With a Badge
When the call comes in for help to dispatch at the Grand Rapids Police Department (GRPD) in Grand Rapids, Michigan, the crisis isn’t always solved with force. Some calls of distress are better handled with a listening ear, a shoulder to lean on, or a shared prayer.
Sgt. Neil Gomez is the community engagement sergeant and program coordinator for the GRPD program, Clergy on Patrol. Clergy of different faith traditions and congregations are paired with police officers and ride with them during their shifts. Currently, nine clergy members are in partnership with 11 officers. They also attend neighborhood events and meetings along with officers and introduce patrol officers within the faith community.
“The program was founded many years ago and was initially called Ministers on Patrol,” he said. “It didn’t last very long, but in 2021, it was started up again. It has helped bridge gaps between officers and members of the community at times when they are on calls. Clergy members have helped with death notifications and have even prayed over victims, suspects, and others they may have encountered on calls.”
Gomez facilitates meetings with the clergy members every other month. Meetings usually have a topic or guest speaker to help inform the clergy members of their role in the police department. He also coordinates an annual training day for members to go over various topics such as use of force (why and how force may be used), de-escalation, mental health and others.
With the renewal of the program being so new, Gomez said they do not yet have any metrics of success — other than the positive feedback they have received from all involved — the officers, the clergy, the community members who have come in contact with Clergy on Patrol.
“I am unsure how you would put relationships into a statistic,” Gomez said. “The value in the program is the relationships between the officers and their clergy members and the community they serve, and the feedback we have received from the community has been positive.”
The Officer
When Officer Justine Copeline prepares for his shift, he doesn’t just arm himself with a firearm. He arms himself with prayer. His career today was not always the direction he expected to take, but it is one he has never regretted.
For Copeline, it was a moment in 2011 that would change the trajectory of his life. A Marine Corp veteran, Copeline had returned to school to continue his education after completing a tour overseas. He was studying pastoral ministry at Moody Bible Institute of Chicago, Illinois.
“I had started working for the campus security department to pay my way through school,” he said. “One of the certifications they sent us to was called CIT — crisis intervention team training with the Chicago police. Shortly after that training, we had a situation on campus. We got a call about a young man in one of the restrooms who was having a total meltdown. He was crying and yelling, taking his shirt off, and incredibly distraught.”
Copeline brought his new skill set to task. He quickly realized there were trust issues to overcome — he was a young white man in uniform facing a young Black man from the south side of Chicago. Copeline began his approach with questions in a calming tone: what was going on? Why was the young man so distraught?
“He started spilling about all this stuff that had happened to him recently,” he said. “He was raised by his grandmother; his parents were not in the picture. It was his grandmother that had encouraged him to go to college. For him, this was all for her — but she had passed away just a few days prior. And then, just that morning, he had found out that one of his best friends was killed in a gang shooting.”
Copeline listened and let the young man vent his emotions. As he saw the young man calm down, Copeline became keenly aware of how his newly acquired skills had made a difference. Without such de-escalation skills, the situation may have ended very differently, if not tragically. Instead, the scene in the restroom concluded with the young man asking Copeline if he would walk him across the stage to receive his diploma. Copeline considered the optics. The sight of a man in uniform walking alongside him would not have been ideal, so Copeline opted instead to meet the new graduate at the end of the stage.
“But his request, it blew me away,” he said. “Later on, reflecting on it, there was no pastor or counselor or therapist who was in that restroom with him in that moment of crisis. The only person there was the first person in uniform who walked through that door. It ignited a passion in me for that kind of crisis response.”
Copeline realized he wanted to continue the kind of work that required a skill set in crisis situations. Rather than choosing vocational ministry, he continued his education in law enforcement. He moved to Grand Rapids, Michigan, to be closer to family and took on a sponsored recruit position with the GRPD.
“If the Department ever wanted to form a crisis response team, I knew I wanted to be a part of that,” he said. “When our now-retired Captain Dixon got me involved with the Clergy on Patrol program a couple years ago, it followed my passion for this kind of work. We have had thousands of responses over the past couple years. We’ve seen a lot of crisis interventions with a lot of different outcomes.”
The clergy, he said, ride along as volunteers, all required to wear bulletproof vests while on duty. They are required to remain in the patrol car until and if the officer deems the situation safe.
“We have the clergy get involved only when the situation is completely locked down,” Copeline said. “For instance, say we are going into a domestic situation. We might say, hey, hang out in the car for a minute while we figure out what’s going on, and once we have a read on the situation, then we might allow the clergy to come up with us and observe what’s going on. We don’t want to compromise an investigation.”
At that point, once it appears appropriate and depending on the nature of the scene, the clergy may engage in conversation, offer support or prayer to persons involved.
Copeline says his usual ride-along is a rabbi. Conversations happen not only in crisis situations, but between the officer and the clergy, too, with each learning more about the role of the other in the community.
In terms of measuring the success of the program, Copeline said: “We would all have different answers because it can be such a unique pairing. There’s definitely been value in it for me in personal growth. There aren’t data points you can point to, because it is about relationships and about understanding. Both sides gain more trust, and we are able to humanize each other, build better communication and a better connection.”
The Clergy
Craig Washington, a pastor at the Bread House Holland Church in Holland, Michigan, began his journey of faith when he was in high school, taking ever greater roles in his church, eventually as pastor. He has also worked as behavioral interventionist at Hope Academy of West Michigan and YouthBuild of Grand Rapids.
“Faith was always an important part of my family,” he said.
Washington was one of the founders of the original program, Ministers on Patrol. When the program was renewed as Clergy on Patrol, he once again became involved.
“The original program got too dangerous at that time,” he said. “It was shut down after there was a shooting, and an officer got killed. After the numbers for shootings went down, the program was reinstated as Clergy on Patrol.”
Participating clergy submit to a background check, then choose what part of the greater Grand Rapids area they would like to work in and during which shift. Washington chose the northeast side. “Because that’s where my old church used to be,” he said.
Officers are then given a list of available clergy members and may choose if they wish to participate.
“When I go along on a call, I may be involved in a traffic stop, maybe a domestic. The officer makes the decision if I can safely get out of the car and engage. I was involved in a recent incident where someone was threatening a neighbor. A couple people were placed in the back of the patrol car, and I was able to talk to them. It turned out they had been a couple of my students. I used to deal with them with their school behaviors. I gave them my phone number and invited them to come out to my church.”
Washington says he feels the program gives the community — as well as the participants — a different face, less threatening, easier to approach. It also gives clergy an opportunity to pray with people.
“As for the officers, some are religious, some are not, but when we ride in the patrol car with them, nothing is forced,” Washington added. “It’s a regular partnership, getting to know each other, and if a question about faith comes up, I gladly answer that.”
His faith, Washington said, is his motivation. “It’s about helping people in a time of trauma. It’s a chance to be someone’s comfort if they are having a breakdown. To me, this program is helping to strengthen the community — with faith.”
By Zinta Aistars