Riding with the Grain Valley Police Department: A Chaplain's View

by Wayne Geiger

I have served as a volunteer Police Chaplain for the Grain Valley Police Department for almost three years now. My role is to assist the GVPD in its overall mission by serving the department and its citizens in proactive and reactive roles.

I’ve always had a passion for law enforcement and have a son and son-in-law who work in law enforcement.

I remember my first ride in a police car. I was 17 and living in another state. My friends and I, up to no good, had driven to an isolated, dark, back road. In the car was an illegal substance.

Suddenly, we saw a light behind us illuminating the darkness and exposing our defiance of the law. “It’s the cops,” one of my friends said! That night, I was taken home in handcuffs to the shock and disappointment of my mother. The look on her face haunts me to this day. Now, these many years later, they actually allow me to ride up front! The view is so much better—and so is the destination.

As chaplain, I am able to ride along with the GVPD on occasion. It’s a role and ride I take seriously. I wait for the invitation to enter the vehicle and I touch nothing.

The officer’s vehicle is not “just” a vehicle. It is his office, his refuge, his lifeline. The vehicle is equipped with a large computer monitor that is practically in my lap. I accept that. After all, the car is built for one.

The technological gadgets and hardware are there to enable the officer to do his or her job and there for protection. I am a foreign object.

The officer beside me resembles a warrior ready for battle. As society has changed, so has our law enforcement strategy, tools, and techniques. He is equipped with military gear designed to enable him to engage in any unexpected, potentially volatile situation in order to help him protect and serve others.

He has his radio, gun, taser, ammunition, various gadgets, and a bullet proof vest. His hope is that he will not need any of it.

My training has taught me to obey without question. Sometimes, I am permitted to exit the vehicle on a call. Sometimes, I am asked to remain in the car. As a civilian, I know my place and the last thing that I want to do is impair the officer from doing his or her job.

Cruising around town, the officer’s eyes and ears are peeled for potential hazards and violations. The officer has sworn to uphold a law he has not created. He is the enforcer.

Although we struggle with the law (as Sammy Hagar sang, “I Can’t Drive 55”), it is the foundation of an organized society and violations to the law must be dealt with. The officers know the law, have memorized every street in the city, know the heartbeat of the community, and know many of the citizens by name. They are invested.

Part of the officer’s duty is reactive. They go from call to call responding to the needs of the community through a central dispatch. Another part of their job is proactive. “Did you notice that?” the officer says?” “I must have missed it,” I confess.

Honestly, I have no clue what he’s talking about as I was admiring his stun gun. “That guy has a truck plate on his car.” I had no idea there was a difference. The officer switches lanes and pulls behind the vehicle. The driver glances in the rearview mirror with a sheepish look of concern and surrender.

Part of me knows that feeling. There’s something a little awkward about having a police car behind you. In fact, even if you’re not doing anything wrong, you have a sense of guilt. Perhaps it’s because of all the other times that we got away with it.

Our officers also serve in a preventative role. For example, Officer Danny Iiams is one of our School Resource Officers (SRO). Officer Iiams is passionate about protecting our kids and helping them to grow up into responsible adults.

Recently, at Prairie Branch Elementary, Iiams allowed me to assist in an exercise designed to help students understand the potential danger of putting harmful substances into their body. Today, the kids will experience simulated, impaired driving.

We use two "Drunk Buster" carts (like a go cart with peddles) and special goggles that simulate what an impaired driver may experience when they get behind the wheel. Iiams, who has a wonderful sense of humor, laughs and jokes with the kids, but also reminds them that the message is serious. More serious than their 5 th grade minds can comprehend. One by one, the kids put on the goggles and try to perform simple tasks like walking in a straight line, catching a ball, and even driving the Drunk Buster Cart around orange cones. Most of the kids moan and complain when putting on the goggles. “Everything looks weird,” shouts one student attempting to steer around the cones, “I can’t see anything!”

As she mows over several cones, Iiams calls out, “Hey, you just ran over my birdbath!” It’s a fun day with a serious message. Hopefully, these students will remember this day for the rest of their lives and learn to say no to drugs.

My service as chaplain comes with mixed emotions. Some time ago, at a particular school, a student recognized me and shouted, “Hey, I know you.” The student was waving frantically, smiling from ear to ear as he ran to meet me.

Honestly, he looked familiar, but I couldn’t place him. I guessed he was part of our FUEL basketball league or had come to a Vacation Bible School in the past. He blurted out, “Do you remember me?” I remembered his eyes, but it was the smile that threw me.

My mind clicked and I was transported to a very dark time in his past when he was not smiling. His innocent eyes saw more than they should have seen. I remembered the anguish, tears, heartache, and the deep, unanswerable questions.

As the chaplain on scene, I remembered trying to bring some semblance of comfort to this family whose husband and father had been taken from them far too soon. “You were there when my dad died!” he exclaimed as if we were old friends reunited by fate. He unapologetically and strategically moved in to embrace me. I felt a pit in my stomach and my heart ached for this little guy. I fought back the tears, smiled, and said warmly, “I do remember you! It’s so good to see you. How are you doing?”

His demeaner changed and he looked down saying, “not too good. I miss my dad.”

I was able to spend a few moments of time with him before it was time for him to head back to class. Upon his departure, the smile and joy returned to his face. “It was so good to see you!” he exclaimed as he joined the line with his friends to head back to just being a kid, waving all the way back.

I believe that a career in law enforcement is a calling. These men and women certainly don’t do it for the paycheck. Daily, they face enormous challenges and stress.

If you think about it, most of us get to experience joy and pain in our jobs, but for officers, much of what they experience is continual defiance, pain, and brokenness.

They constantly see the worst in people because that’s when people call 9-1-1. These men and women have seen the unspeakable and through it all are expected to be professional. They are called to uphold a law they did not create, or necessarily even agree with, and keep their opinions to themselves. They have mounds of paperwork that must be filled out meticulously.

In addition, they must perform at a high level or professionalism every day. Their life depends upon it. While the average citizen instinctively may run away from a violent situation, officers are trained to run into it. They are ready to give their lives on a daily basis.

Generally, they have no one to talk to who understands. Their family is there to provide support and love, but there is no way them to totally understand. There is little opportunity for them to debrief. Sometimes, all blue has is blue.

On top of it all, the national media is often against them and society, at times, makes them out to be the bad guy. Through it all, they remain professional and do their job—to protect us.

Their diligence is not without repercussion. The human body can only push down or process so much. It’s tragic, but for the third year in a row, the number of officers who die by suicide is higher than those killed in the line of duty. Some of these warriors who are trained to withstand violent, physical, external threats succumb to the emotional, invisible ones. I pray for them regularly.

Police officers are men and women, like us, who are people. They are people who serve in a profession. They have families, homes, hobbies, and friends. They have aspirations, goals, and dreams. At the end of the day, they just want to go home, like us, and be with the people they love.

I guess what I’m saying is that in my three years as Chaplain, I have found that the men and women of our Grain Valley Police Department are a team of highlytrained, caring, proficient, professional people of integrity who have a passion to serve and protect our community. They are also human. They deserve, and desperately need, our prayers, respect, appreciation, and admiration.