52 minute read
President
P
PRESIDENT
Mark Carroll
Time now to boost police numbers
The Police Association is always prepared to stage, when necessary, a public campaign against SAPOL and the SA government.
It’s always been a simple equation for us: it matters not who is in power, or what political colours they wear. If they’re hurting cops, we’re going to respond.
The Weatherill government discovered what that was like in 2015 and 2016, when it tried to strip cops of their compensation entitlements for injuries sustained in the line of duty.
The proposal showed poor judgement and sparked outrage, not only among cops but also the SA community; and the association took the campaign against the government all the way to the steps of Parliament House.
Justice eventually prevailed and, thanks to our campaign, cops who put their bodies and lives on the line for the community can still do so without fear of being financially crippled with medical expenses.
It was a fork-in-the-road moment for policing in SA. A massive and necessary win which is now written into the history books.
But it shows the extent to which government bureaucracy can attempt to quash even the most obvious ideas of common sense and justice.
The other big loser to come out of the Weatherill government’s moment of madness would have been the SA community. Its police would have been forever second-guessing their front-line reactions for fear of financial ruin. The government and SAPOL must commit to grow the force, so the SA community can be safe in the knowledge its calls for assistance won’t go unanswered.
But why is this historical context so important?
Because it’s exactly what SAPOL and the current government should be using to frame the results of our recent member survey about police-officer shortages, the state’s COVID-19 response and other urgent resourcing issues.
We conducted this research across the entire membership, to get a clear and precise picture of where the shortages are, why they exist, and what can be done to alleviate them.
And the results couldn’t have been clearer about what the majority of members are seeing and experiencing.
In layman’s terms, there are simply not enough cops to meet the current community demand.
Members are telling us that a prompt response to a call for police assistance is no longer a guarantee.
Like the situation with the former Weatherill government and its unthinking proposal on injury compensation, this moment threatens to be a defining one for the history of SAPOL.
Two years of relentless COVID taskings have taken a toll on a force already compromised by the early-2020 introduction of SAPOL’s controversial district policing model.
Back then, we warned SAPOL that a similar model had failed in Western Australia, and that it needed to take steps to ensure the same wouldn’t happen in SA.
Nobody knew at the time, but the situation was about to be compounded by a two-and-a-half-year-long COVID emergency response, in which hundreds of cops would be forced to act as proxy SA Health workers.
It has come at an enormous price.
Many cops have had their work impacted by the response — almost three quarters of research respondents, in fact.
And almost as many have experienced a negative impact on their personal life in the past year.
Members have also highlighted that SAPOL’s inaction on an extendedhours roster is causing them unnecessary heartache.
Earlier this year, we campaigned for SAPOL and the government to lift some of the COVID requirements and mandates so that hundreds of absent police officers could rejoin the workforce.
State Emergency Co-ordinator Grant Stevens responded by lifting the vaccination mandate, but the closecontact and quarantining rules still allow for hundreds of police officers to be absent from work at any one time.
And, after more than two years, COVID deployments — on which cops act as pseudo SA Health workers checking up on citizen compliance — must stop.
These are not roles for sworn members, and they erode community trust in police officers.
Prior to the state election, we flagged our intentions for a premier’s taskforce to begin with the new term of government.
That taskforce, consisting of the association, the government and SAPOL, would work together with a view to increasing the number of police officers recruited now and over the next decade.
We know as an absolute matter of fact that it’s no longer enough to recruit for attrition. The government and SAPOL must commit to grow the force, so the SA community can be safe in the knowledge its calls for assistance won’t go unanswered.
New premier Peter Malinauskas committed to establishing this taskforce before winning the March state election.
Also encouraging is a recent meeting I had with the new police minister, Joe Szakacs. He has heard the association’s concerns, and I am confident that he’ll work with us with a view to alleviating these issues.
Now — not later — is the time for the new government to act on this and commit to increasing police numbers which are commensurate with community demand.
POLICE CLUB CLOSURE
I recently delivered the sad news that after more than 60 years of operation, and as a place of such good times and great memories, the Police Club is to close permanently.
This has been an extraordinarily difficult decision for the Police Association committee of management. But we’ve had to face the realities of the hospitality industry in South Australia.
Today, our members and, indeed, the general public look to socialize in settings vastly different from the Police Club.
This particularly applies to a growing number of younger members, which has been evident for a few years now. Plus, the last two years of COVID have come as another heavy burden.
We, as the club owners, along with our Police Club staff, have worked so hard to make the club viable. Sadly, however, it has continued to struggle to support itself.
And now that it’s no longer viable, we’d be financially irresponsible to keep it going. The onus is on us to take responsibility, recognize the commercial realities, and make this very hard call.
The Precinct Café will continue to operate from 7am to 2pm, Monday to Friday, but the club proper will cease operating on Friday, July 1.
I appreciate how disappointing this news will be to so many.
I’ve been happy to speak directly with members about the decision and alternative ways they might stage their social gatherings and events. I’ll continue to do so.
It’s been a wonderful 60-odd years, and I am myself deeply saddened to see the club close. But to keep the whole of the Police Association operations relevant and financial, we must adjust to the changing times.
I thank all members and, indeed, everyone among the general public who has supported the club over the years.
I hope to see you there in its last months of operation.
ON WHAT BASIS THE MANDATE?
Some police were just not prepared to surrender their right to reject a COVID-19 vaccination, even in the face of a mandate. But exercising their freedom of choice came at a crushing personal cost.
By Brett Williams
Probationary Constable Rosalyn Smith ROBATIONARY CONSTABLE ROSALYN SMITH knows what discrimination looks like. She had lived her whole life in South Africa, in both the apartheid and post-apartheid eras, until she and her family immigrated to Australia five years ago.
Ongoing discrimination and government overreach, even after apartheid ended, led the Smiths to the decision to leave the country. They never again wanted to see bureaucratic power used in a way they perceived as inappropriate.
But then COVID-19 emerged, and Australians had to suffer through lockdowns, school closures, vaccination mandates, QR check-ins, caps on visitor numbers in their own homes. Not even the choice of standing or sitting with a drink in a pub was theirs to make.
“I thought that what I’d seen and grown up with in South Africa was starting to happen here,” Smith says. “I would look at it and go: ‘This isn’t okay! They’re dehumanizing people. They’re encouraging division between people. They’re encouraging discrimination. ’
“I look at what’s happened in the last two years in Australia. It took 15, 20 years in (post-apartheid) South Africa to reach that same point. Where are we are going to be in two years from now unless people stand up and say that this is not okay?”
When Commissioner Grant Stevens used controversial legislation to restrict civil liberties and impose vaccination mandates, his actions “raised red flags” with Smith.
She came to view herself as a victim of discrimination and subsequently stood – and continues to stand – against Stevens’ mandates.
When one of them came into play for police on November 15, she was due to graduate with Course 50/2021 around six weeks later.
She had stood up to eight months of recruit training, had undergone her swearing-in, and was excited to start actual police work in January.
But she was one of the few who had thoroughly researched the vaccines and their serious side effects, like myocarditis.
She found that vaccines generally took up to 15 years to develop and so was uncomfortable with initiatives like Operation Warp Speed.
PSo, along with others, she dared to question the rationale behind the mandate which Stevens had announced in late October. “Had I thought I had a 30 per cent chance of dying,” she says, “maybe even a 10 per cent chance, I would’ve gone: ‘Okay, it’s worth the risk.’ But it wasn’t worth the risk. “Not once did I ever find anything that said to me: ‘It’s worth the risk. ’ “Some of the most cursory research showed that vaccinated people were still able to transmit the virus. You only had to look at some of the studies that were out there, but people didn’t want to look at them. ” By November 15, Smith had already decided that she would not undergo a COVID vaccination. So, the announcement of the mandate devastated her. For 30 years, it had been her ambition to be a police officer. She had even attained degrees in criminology and business management to improve her chances of employment with SAPOL. Smith hoped her willingness to wear a mask, undergo RATs, or take any other measures might win her some understanding, even a reprieve. SAPOL, however, was not open to negotiation on the issue. And Smith knew what that meant: she would lose her opportunity to finish the last few weeks of her training and graduate. Still, she remained committed to her work, right up to the moment she had to vacate the police academy on Friday, November 12. “I submitted an assignment an hour before I left,” she says. “Part of me was always hoping that sense would prevail, that they might realize the mandates weren’t a good idea. “They gave me a window of two weeks to get the jab and start back with the course. Once I hit that two-week period, I realized that I wouldn’t graduate with my course. ” From Monday, November 15, Smith was on furlough and unwelcome back at the academy unvaccinated. SAPOL had issued furloughed cops with bluntly worded written directions, one of which was not to enter any police buildings. Smith took some umbrage in response but felt more for the cops who had given decades of their lives to policing and were now pariahs. Far harder for her to take was the January afternoon she spent at home, unable to graduate with her coursemates.
Probationary Constable Rosalyn Smith (centre) at her swearing-in ceremony
“I wasn’t even allowed to go and watch them,” she recalls. “It was absolutely awful and, in a way, it felt like it was almost punitive. ”
With Smith unpaid for most of her time on furlough, and her daughters unvaccinated and not working, the household incomes reduced to one.
The family would never have survived the financial impact had Smith’s husband not received the okay to perform his IT job from home.
But even on that one income, surviving has still been “an enormous struggle”. Smith is just grateful that she and her family have not wound up broke.
“Because” she says, “I’m aware of police officers who’ve become virtually destitute because of this (vaccination mandate). ”
Only if Smith and her family had ended up penniless was she prepared to sell the family home and, to her great regret, leave the country.
While she endured her forced separation from work, she set about connecting with other furloughed police officers. She wanted to be around like-minded people who could not only exchange support with one another but also conceive ways to “fight back”.
A group did indeed form and its furloughed members met up weekly to discuss their options.
“These were human beings,” Smith says, “people who had been absolutely devastated, their lives turned completely upside down. So, we formulated a multitiered campaign.
“It wasn’t about wanting to take SAPOL down. Rather, it was about what we could do to educate SAPOL, to make SAPOL realize that its decisions were not necessarily fair. ”
The group drew on Police Association support, engaged with politicians, and considered how to educate those who wrongly branded them crazy and conspiracy theorists.
“There was this group of us (within the larger group) who were strong, passionate and dedicated to this,” Smith says. “So, for me, it’s been a full-time job literally from day one since I went off on furlough. ”
Smith and other group members knew that, as they went about their fight back, another contest was under way. Registered nurse and Adelaide Crows player Deni Varnhagen and three others were to challenge the vaccine mandates in the Supreme Court.
It would be a judicial review in which the court would determine whether Stevens had made his decision to mandate vaccinations properly.
The plaintiffs at that stage, along with Varnhagen, were nurse Courtney Millington, teacher Craig Bowyer, and healthcare worker Kylie Dudson.
Furloughed sergeant Zac Cook had discussed the court action with retired Federal Circuit Court judge and mandate opponent Stuart Lindsay. And out of that discussion came the suggestion of a police officer joining the action as a plaintiff.
Cook then ran the idea by Smith who later joined him in a meeting with members of the legal team representing the four plaintiffs.
And it was a team of heavy hitters: solicitor Loretta Polson, barristers Simon Ower, QC and Paul D’Assumpcao (assisting), and Stuart Lindsay (special counsel).
By the end of the meeting, both Smith and Cook had agreed to join the action as plaintiffs five and six.
“It was such an easy decision to make at that point,” Smith says. “Right from the word go, I’ve had a very deep sense of conviction that this is the right thing to do. And when you’ve got that sense of conviction, it kind of steamrolls everything else.
“It’s about holding our leadership to account. If you’re in a position of leadership, you have to be accountable and transparent in everything you do. ”
Stevens announced on March 4 that the vaccine mandate he had imposed on police was to end. But unvaccinated police officers returning to work were to undertake RATs at the start of their shifts and wear masks all shift long.
The direction left Smith asking why, if a RAT proved negative, would a member need to wear a mask all shift.
“To me, again, it feels punitive,” she says. “If our vaccinated colleagues don’t take a RAT, they can still be positive. It doesn’t make sense. To me, it’s again the process of dehumanizing us (because we’re not vaccinated for COVID-19). ”
If her experience of the last five months has left Smith mentally scarred, few, if any, would know. A strong, intelligent woman, she shows no outward signs of grief or emotional pain. And she still wants to realize her dream of 30 years: to serve as an SA police officer.
“Right from when I was 16, that was all I wanted to be,” she says, “but, in South Africa, it wasn’t a career to have. But, when I moved to Australia, I knew then that this was my chance. ”
Senior Constable First Class Rob Kronitis receiving hospital treatment MORNING and just 37 hours after he had received his first COVID-19 vaccination on November 14. Senior Constable First Class Rob Kronitis, then 51, woke with his heart racing and short of breath.
He felt as if his heart rate, which he monitored regularly, was somewhere around 150 beats per minute. And, as a long-time rower, swimmer and hiker well in tune with his body, he was likely pretty accurate.
Around 10 minutes later, after he had charged his watch and strapped it on, he found his heart rate had slowed but was still high at 120bpm. He eventually dropped off to sleep again and “didn’t think much more of it”.
Kronitis had been a long-time sufferer of super ventricular tachycardia (SVT) and knew that that might have caused his racing heart. He had also read that an increased heart rate was, for some, a reaction to the COVID-19 vaccination.
So, when his heart rate accelerated a few more times over the next few days, he simply thought “it will eventually pass”.
But at the beach, eight days after his vaccination, he dived under the water, came up, and felt his SVT kick in with a “boom”. His heart pounded as he felt a kind of pressure in his chest.
And as he walked back across the sand to where he had left his towel, he again found himself short of breath. He lay down and tried to rest but the slightest movement, like the turn of his head, ramped the symptoms back up again.
Rightly concerned, Kronitis decided to drive himself to hospital but struggled even to put his shorts and T-shirt back on and gather up his few belongings. And on the walk back to his car, he had to stop several times to rest momentarily and regain his breath.
Once in his car, he set out for Noarlunga Hospital but only got halfway there. The SVT “just kicked in hard” and his struggle to breathe intensified.
Totally overcome, he pulled into a service station so people could see him and, from his car, “just spilled out onto the ground”.
Already on his phone to the SA Ambulance Service and trying to stay calm, he described his erratic up-and-down heart rate and strained breathing. He also mentioned his SVT and the possibility of a reaction to the COVID vaccine.
One of two people who approached the imperilled Kronitis took over the conversation with SAAS for him. The other, an off-duty nurse, took his pulse. After that, she looked to the person on the phone and said: “Tell them to hurry. ”
And, by now, Kronitis felt as if his heart was literally going to stop.
Senior Constable First Class Rob Kronitis
Within a few minutes, paramedics arrived, hooked him up to machinery and gave him an intravenous dose of adenosine, a drug used to terminate episodes of SVT. They warned him it would hurt, and it did.
“It’s a horrible sensation,” he says. “It feels like you’re just about to die, like you’ve just been poisoned. ”
The adenosine gave Kronitis only momentary relief before the crushing chest pain returned during the ambulance ride to hospital. So, a senior paramedic in a second ambulance following the first gave Kronitis another dose of the drug after both vehicles had stopped.
Soon at Flinders Medical Centre in the care of a team of doctors, Kronitis seemed a little more stable but his heart rate remained around 140bpm. The doctors stuck defibrillator pads to his chest and prepared to give him more adenosine.
He remembers them telling him that, just in case the adenosine didn’t work, the defibrillator would “hopefully bring you back”.
“Then,” he says, “they gave me a double dose and I really thought I was going to die. I went into spasm like a fish out of water on the barouche. And then: bang. It was gone. Everything resolved. ”
The diagnosis was that Kronitis, who remained in hospital overnight, had suffered two tachycardia episodes at the same time. A senior doctor asked him to confirm whether he had recently had a COVID vaccination.
Kronitis told him he had indeed had one and queried whether his tachycardia was a reaction to the vaccine. The doctor indicated that it was highly likely.
Two days later, as Kronitis was eating his breakfast, the same symptoms which had overcome him at the beach struck again. That meant another ambulance ride to hospital, where doctors gave him a dose of beta-blocker drug metoprolol.
And as much as Kronitis might have hoped that that was the end of his dilemma, it was not. Before the end of January, he wound up headed for hospital in an ambulance eight more times, suffering the same strained breathing and heart trauma.
Whenever the symptoms struck, he first took his own blood pressure, monitored his heart rate, and took a beta blocker. Only if his symptoms persisted or worsened would he call an ambulance.
And each time he went to hospital, the medical thinking was the same.
“A doctor or a nurse or someone treating me would say it (my condition) was very likely, or definitely, vaccine-related,” Kronitis recalls. “They had all seen similar cases before. ”
Kronitis would come to wish he had never had the COVID-19 vaccination. Indeed, he had decided against it even before Commissioner Grant Stevens imposed the vaccination mandate on police.
Given his SVT, and other medical issues he had suffered from, like blood clots, he wisely consulted his GP and undertook considerable research. Many of the facts he discovered were in peer-reviewed medical journals.
“Some studies showed that the vaccines were more likely than not to impact people (like me) with SVT,” he says. “There was enough to make me think: ‘Okay, there’s my risks with illness versus taking my chances with a vaccine. The risks far outweigh any possible benefit. ’
“And it wasn’t to do with any particular stance on vaccines. I’ve regularly had vaccinations. Sometimes I have a flu vaccine, sometimes I don’t. But, in this case, I just made the decision that I wasn’t going to have it and left it with that. ”
Kronitis made his position known to SAPOL after the announcement of the Stevens mandate. Then, from SAPOL, came registered mail, worded in ways that appalled him.
He read that, without a vaccination, SAPOL would furlough him, bar him from entering police buildings, and no longer consider him a police worker.
“After all my years of service and all the things I’d done,” he says, “I found it offensive and also threatening.
“You’re given a letter saying: ‘You're not allowed to enter a police building so, if you have anything personal in your locker, clear it out now.’ It really felt like we (the unvaccinated) weren’t coming back.
“And it was things like that which, in the end, pushed me to the decision to get vaccinated. I looked at resigning but I wanted to stay employed because I actually love what I do. ”
So, sensing a threat hanging over his livelihood, the reluctant Kronitis fronted up to receive his vaccination. And, in fewer than 48 hours, he would find himself in the grip of a racing heart and strained breathing.
Worse still was that Kronitis was due to receive his second dose of the vaccine on December 26. Not taking it would put him out of line with the rules of the mandate.
But he got to consult an electro cardiologist who warned him not to have that second shot.
At that late-December appointment, Kronitis explained to the cardiologist that, because he was under a mandate, he would need a formal medical exemption.
The cardiologist prepared one. In it, he wrote: “Onset of severe cardiac arrhythmia post first COVID vaccination for hospital admissions and physically disabled. Diagnosis of probable vaccine-induced myocarditis. ”
Before the last of the 10 heart-related episodes he suffered, Kronitis returned to work at ComCen in mid-January as his leave had expired. Try as he did, he lasted only a few six-hour shifts. His heart palpitations continued to plague him and he simply could not concentrate.
ReturnToWorkSA accepted – on an interim basis – a claim he later made for compensation. But the insurer required confirmation that the injury was a case of vaccine-related myocarditis.
So, the cardiologist applied to a medical panel, working under the direction of Chief Public Health Officer Nicola Spurrier, for an exemption.
“And they (the panel) gave her an assessment that it was a valid diagnosis and she signed off on the exemption,” Kronitis says. “But, at this stage, I’m still interim, yet to be confirmed. ”
Kronitis underwent a medical procedure known as an ablation, which addresses irregular heartbeats. He endured it the day before Stevens revoked the vaccination mandate on police.
Kronitis was never a candidate for an ablation, but that was before he accepted a dose of COVID-19 vaccine – under the pressure of the mandate.
“When I heard the mandate had been lifted, I was livid,” he says. “If it wasn’t for the mandate, I wouldn’t have got the vaccine. I wouldn’t have this injury.
“And this direction (to have the vaccination) was meant to be for my safety. In fact, the SAPOL website said: ‘This is for your safety. ’
“It's done zero for my safety. I’ve now been absent the entire mandate period and I’m still going to be sick for a further period. ”
Kronitis continues to suffer spikes in his heart rate but remains under the care of his cardiologist, who still suspects myocarditis.
“It’s just going to be a case of wait and see,” he says. “I think I’ll still be a while recovering yet. ”
UNVACCINATED left furloughed senior constable first class Anthea Ellis searching employment websites. She had had a sideline job with Enjo for six years but needed much more than that to support herself and her children.
One way she desperately tried to make ends meet while on furlough was as a supermarket worker with Coles. But the company came to implement its own vaccination mandate in February, so Ellis lost that stream of income after only a month.
Adding to the crushing financial pressure on her was the mortgage she had to pay on a shack she and her partner had bought in October. And that was on top of lease payments she had to make on her car.
As hard as she tried to exist on leave without pay – after exhausting her other leave entitlements – she plunged into “dire financial straits”.
Ellis, 46, lived in the hope of a court challenge to the mandate. But the anguish of her status as an outcast police employee and her struggle to survive made her dispirited and somewhat reclusive.
And it was all because the police officer of 25 years had exercised her right not to take one of the TGA-approved COVID-19 vaccinations.
Necessarily sceptical, as cops are, Ellis doubted the integrity of the vaccines right from the time they became available. She, along with others, did not accept that any pharmaceutical company could have developed and produced them so soon after COVID-19 emerged.
Ellis had done her research on the vaccines and knew that “there was no way I wanted one”.
“It takes years to produce a vaccine,” she says. “And, with this one, there’s no proof of what it’s going to do in the long term, how much harm it might cause. There’s no knowledge of that.
“And the mandate is simply not fair. This is Australia. We have freedoms and rights. We should be able to make a choice – without threats to our livelihood.
“Governments can recommend it or even push it strongly, but I don’t think in any place, anytime, anyone should be able to mandate it.
“When it’s to do with your health, no one should be able to dictate what you put into your body. ”
Of course, in September, Queensland police commissioner Katarina Carroll became the first police chief to impose a vaccine mandate on cops.
Commissioner Grant Stevens had indicated as late as mid-October that he had not “made a determination about mandatory vaccinations”. That was at the Police Association annual conference, where he also stressed that vaccinations were then optional for SA police.
The concern for Ellis was that Stevens would indeed follow his Queensland counterpart, despite the serious side effects attributed to the vaccines.
Later, she was not only concerned but also certain that he was about to impose the mandate. It was after he ordered his employees to inform SAPOL of their vaccination status.
“I knew instantly from that moment that that’s why they were doing it (seeking members’ vaccination status),” she says.
“They were going to find out how many police hadn’t had the vaccination and were willing to lose that amount of police by mandating it. And, sure enough, that happened. ”
Other aspects of the mandate, like the registered mail furloughed cops received from SAPOL, added to the stress Ellis was suffering. To direct police officers not to set foot in SA police buildings was to treat them like criminals, at least to Ellis.
“And yet, if I’m unvaccinated, I’m allowed to go to the shops and do anything like anybody else,” she says. “But I can’t step foot on police premises or go to work.
“And no one checks in on you. I got two phone calls the whole time on furlough. And that was only to find out if I’d had the jab or if I was coming back, not to see how I was going. ”
Those who did support Ellis were her partner, an unvaccinated neighbour, and the Police Association. The neighbour had wound up barred from her workplace, too. She taught special-needs children, who lost her as their teacher because of another vaccination mandate.
“It’s been great to see and hear (association president) Mark Carroll in some of his media interviews,” Ellis says. “I was very thankful for what he said and what he’s doing. ”
Ellis was always aware of the mental suffering the mandate caused others. She saw its impact on some of her ComCen colleagues and understood their plight. One of them was Rob Kronitis, whose case of suspected myocarditis is now well known.
Senior Constable First Class Anthea Ellis
“A lot of us at work hadn’t had it or didn’t want it (the vaccination),” she says. “One member has ended up taking a year without pay because it’s just stressed her out so much. She’s in a really bad place.
“Other girls I’ve spoken to ended up getting it (the vaccination) because they wanted to travel or just couldn’t afford to lose (their livelihoods). But they kept supporting and encouraging me to just hold out. ”
And Ellis did hold out for as long as she could. But, by Friday, February 25, she found herself no longer a match for the power Stevens wielded over the entire state.
As if beaten into submission, she finally allowed into her body a vaccine she did not then – and does not now– trust. And that was exactly one week before Stevens revoked the vaccination mandate on police.
Had Ellis been able to hold out just seven more days, she could have returned to work unvaccinated.
“It was like sticking the knife in and twisting it or pouring salt onto a wound,” she says. “I had that gut feeling that, as soon as I got it, something was going to change. ”
After more than three months on furlough, Ellis returned to duty on February 26 and worked a week of shifts up to the March 4 revocation. From then, the directions as to RATs and masks came into force for unvaccinated police returning to work.
And, as Ellis had only had one shot, SAPOL did not consider her fully vaccinated. She could not therefore work despatch unmasked, as ComCen policy required.
The apparent basis for the policy is that the voices of masked radio despatchers might sound muffled and therefore hard to understand.
“But back when masks were mandatory,” Ellis says, “you had to wear them in the workplace. People were sitting at their desks in ComCen every day wearing bloody masks. What difference does it make now?
“I’m not allowed to wear a mask sitting at my desk speaking to the public or despatching to patrols, but patrols can speak to us through masks. ”
Despite the intense hardship the Stevens mandate inflicted on her, and her frustration since returning to work, Ellis still wants to continue her police career.
“I don’t hate the job,” she says. “I like doing what I’m doing and I’ve been in it for 25 years. It’s the only thing I really know. A lot of people said: ‘Resign and go find something else,’ but I don’t want to and shouldn’t have to. ”
Sergeant Zac Cook
many furloughed cops who tried but could never get an answer from Commissioner Grant Stevens. And he never considered his question complicated or unreasonable. He and others just wanted to know what particular medical science or advice Stevens had relied on to issue his vaccination mandate on police.
The mandate had, after all, come with a profound impact on police who chose to remain unvaccinated. There were issues like lost income, bans on entering police premises, name-calling by those critical of the choice.
Cook and others, like the Police Association, put the question of the scientific advice to Stevens in politely worded letters. But neither Cook, nor the association, nor any other furloughed cops got an answer.
“I got a personal reply and I know others did,” Cook recalls. “It was a standard response to basically say: ‘The state co-ordinator is not obliged to give you any information in relation to what you’ve asked for. ’
“And then that was it. I got that at 4:30 on Friday, November 12. And the mandate started on Monday, November 15. ”
Committed to his role at the police academy, Cook worked right up until the death-knock on that Friday. It then struck him as weird leaving the premises he would, after that day, have no right to re-enter.
“It was sort of a taste of what retirement would be like,” he says, “but knowing that you might be back next week, or you might never be back. You couldn’t resolve that, so it was quite a strange feeling. ”
Cook had himself never had a vaccination of any kind other than as an infant. And his wife, Kristy, a former midwife and neonatal intensive-care nurse, was “always a bit hesitant” about vaccinating their toddlers.
After the Cooks’ own first-born child suffered autoimmune issues, her parents went about healing her naturally.
“And, from that point on, we avoided vaccinations,” Cook explains. “Since (our second daughter) was born, she’s never been vaccinated. We’ve tried to tackle their (our daughters’) health that way.
“So, in the end, we’re labelled either conscientious objectors as parents or anti-vaxxers. ”
Initiatives like Operation Warp Speed and other efforts to produce COVID-19 vaccines so hurriedly gave Cook great concern. He had researched mRNA and was opposed not to immunization science but rather the idea that “the science was settled”.
“If you actually listen to some good scientists,” he says, “they’ll say the science is never settled. And we should always be looking, discovering, checking and researching. ”
Cook himself did some checking with Queensland police officers after their commissioner, Katarina Carroll, forced a vaccination mandate on them in September. He found much of the same distress and disquiet that was yet to come after the Stevens mandate.
Cook and other SA police soon began to wonder whether Stevens might do as his Queensland counterpart had done, and others were to do. But he knew what was coming as soon as SAPOL demanded to know its employees’ vaccination status.
“I knew from the experience interstate, that this was it,” he says. “We knew the direction was coming thereafter. ”
Of course, Cook was right. Stevens did announce the mandate in late October. But, as happened elsewhere in Australia, hundreds of cops were unwilling to allow Stevens, or anyone else, to make health decisions for them.
For their own reasons, they wanted no part of a COVID-19 vaccine, despite the threat the mandate posed to their employment.
So SAPOL wrote letters to the police officers who had decided against the vaccination and seemed to offend just about every one of them.
“The way it was messaged was quite insensitive,” Cook says. “Something to the effect of: ‘You will follow this direction and take leave as is necessary until such time as you comply. ’
“If I had sent an e-mail to one of my colleagues, or a group of my colleagues, using that language, there’d be an immediate grievance. I’d never write that to any subordinates. ”
Cook had already had a colleague or two ask him if he intended to get vaccinated. He politely explained that he had never had a vaccination and did not intend to start now. And, rather than persuade others to follow his example, he encouraged them to make their own choice.
Then, when it came to the absence of unvaccinated police officers, SAPOL appeared to Cook to be ill prepared. He could see no evidence of strategies to deal with the associated shortage of staff.
Cook foresaw – and wonders why others did not – that the absences would come with an impact on “hundreds if not into the thousands” of police. Before he went on furlough himself, he raised the issue with Police Association president Mark Carroll.
“So, it was good to hear that, in January, Mark identified that there were hundreds of people furloughed,” Cook says.
“And to what end? We didn’t even achieve the four points or grounds in the direction. These are the things that were aggravating a lot of people. ”
In another sphere, however, Cook saw police action and culture at “its absolute best” when he and other furloughed cops organized and formed a group.
Its members were both sworn and unsworn police employees, as well as contractors. They set out to support one another and conceive plans of action.
Cook, 44, became what he calls their “quasi leader” and saw them all connect with a graciousness he had never seen before.
“Some became a bit more activist-like and we went to the freedom rally marches,” he says. “We put our years of service on our T-shirts and people came up at random just to say: ‘Good on you for standing up (because) what’s happening isn’t right. ’
“Probably 95 per cent of people we’ve interacted with during this whole furlough period have been completely supportive. They’ve said: ‘Yes, this (action you’re taking) is the right thing to do.’ ”
Cook discovered that Professor Nikolai Petrovsky, a vaccine development expert and founder of biotechnology company Vaxine Pty Ltd, was developing a proteinbased COVID-19 vaccine.
After looking into the Petrovsky project, Cook registered to take part in trials of the vaccine, known as Covax-19. That led him to form connections with the professor and long-time Vaxine business manager Sharen Pringle.
And from that connection came the opportunity for Cook to link up with retired Federal Circuit Court judge and mandate opponent Stuart Lindsay. It was Lindsay who had spoken of, and promoted, the idea of a judicial review into the vaccination mandates.
The first contact he and Cook had was a 90-minute phone call in which talk turned to the subject of the judicial review. Cook agreed to meet Lindsay and solicitor Lorretta Polson in the North Adelaide offices of Polson Legal.
He alerted the legal team to furloughed probationary constable Rosalyn Smith and, ultimately, both she and Cook agreed to be plaintiffs in the judicial review.
They were to join registered nurse and Adelaide Crows player Deni Varnhagen, nurse Courtney Millington, teacher Craig Bowyer, and healthcare worker Kylie Dudson.
Cook, who considered Stevens had “well and truly overstepped the mark”, saw the judicial review as “a sensible way” to respond.
“We threw some money at it as fundraising,” he says. “Because we thought: ‘Here’s an opportunity to get the answers we were looking for way back in October, when we submitted our letters.’ That’s all we were after: some information as to what brought these directions about.
“It was a shame we got to the point where we had to go through a judicial review. But it just ended up being the only real option that might unveil the truth about what brought these directions about.
“Had we had some information furnished early on, we probably wouldn’t have ended up in this position of a judicial review. ”
Highly resilient and a critical thinker, Cook shows no outward signs of strain from his months-long banishment from work and his endless contribution to the fightback.
And, on a personal level, he has no grievance with Stevens, whose duty as state co-ordinator he understands and accepts.
He is, however, disappointed not to have seen a “more intelligent approach” to the vaccination mandate on police.
And he laments what he sees as loss of community support for police owing to the way SAPOL has managed its response to the broader pandemic.
Of the greatest concern to him is the issue of damaged relations between furloughed police and SAPOL.
“Someone you thought you could trust has breached your trust,” he says, “but there’s still the relationship. It’s going to take years to repair – if it can be repaired at all. ” PJ
Since taking part in their interviews for this story, and the revocation of the vaccine mandate, Probationary Constable Rosalyn Smith and Sergeant Zac Cook have returned to work at the police academy. Senior Constable First Class Rob Kronitis remains off work.
NEW TO THE BOARDROOM
By Nicholas Damiani
UNIQUE SKILLS
INSPECTOR WADE BURNS, son of former commissioner Gary Burns, spent nearly a decade managing SAPOL’s industrial relations operations and enterprise bargaining negotiations.
And the new Police Association deputy president says he is bringing all that strategic experience, and more, to the committee table.
“Between 2013 and 2021, I actually sat across the table from (association president) Mark Carroll,” he explains.
“I managed all of SAPOL’s enterprise bargaining, dealing with government executives, treasury, ministers, Mark and the commissioner. ”
He has no doubt that this experience helps him to bring a unique set of skills to the association boardroom.
“It’s all led me down the path of wanting to be able to help our members and use my unique position to protect and support cops,” he says.
“Having dad as a former commissioner, and me as an officer with significant IR and HR experience, I think it can really benefit our membership. ”
And, as he explains it, some of the skills he has picked up from his father include the ability to make sound, courageous judgement calls.
“One of the things I learned from him is to back yourself to make decisions,” he explains.
“Make the best decision you can on the information you have at the time. And surround yourself with good people who can provide you with counsel. ”
Burns’ experience in SAPOL is impressive and extensive. A former STAR group officer, he understands policing across a range of areas.
“I’ve worked in patrols and investigations, STAR operations, been a patrol sergeant, a traffic senior sergeant and an officer of police in senior strategic and political roles,” he says.
“I think my unique experience of how SAPOL works, from both the bottom up and the top down, places me in quite an influential position to be able to support and protect members. ”
And, in Burns’ judgement, the biggest issue currently affecting members is health and well-being, both mental and physical.
He attributes the issue directly to resourcing, with the demand for police services far exceeding SAPOL’s current capacity.
“Our members are stretched far too thin,” he says. “They’re tired, fatigued and exhausted.
“I’m in a unique position as a front-line manager, a district duty inspector working 24-7 shifts in an operational environment. I see it daily.
“I see how many jobs are on hold, I see the complexity of the work, and I can hear in people’s voices how fatigued they are. ”
Burns also touches on steps the association can take to ensure the best outcomes for members. He insists that there is always scope for
improvement and introspection within the union’s ranks.
“I think we have to be about empowering the whole membership to assist us in achieving outcomes,” he says.
“It has to be about bringing our members on board because, with a membership of nearly 5,000 people, there are going to be so many solutions and ideas among members and we should be listening to those. ”
Burns calls it an “honour and a privilege” to be elected as deputy president, but he is quick to point out that it comes with a special responsibility.
He makes it clear that he does not intend to let members down and expresses his desires to be a long-term member of the association committee.
“I’m totally committed to the role,” he says. “And should members be happy with my representation, I’m keen to have a long future within the association.
“I was humbled to be elected, but also excited at the opportunity to create lasting positive change and have an influence on how SAPOL conducts its business.
“I’m from a police family. I understand the harsh realities of the job.
“I want to represent the interests of all members regardless of rank, experience, or work location. ”
MORE COLLABORATION
A commitment to justice and “finding out the truth” is what inspired newly elected committee member DETECTIVE BREVET SERGEANT LEONIE SCHULZ to run for office.
Currently attached to Financial and Cybercrime Investigation Branch, she first required association support when she uncovered an issue with her leave entitlements.
“I discovered my police service leave dates were wrong,” she says. “After a long industrial relations process with the association’s involvement, SAPOL realized there was an incorrect code for people who went on maternity leave. ”
Schulz remembers how the process uncovered how her entitlements were out of whack by 18 months — an administrative code error which had affected other members as well.
“That process actually initiated an audit for SAPOL employees who had gone on parental leave,” she says.
“It revealed that there was about 380 members who’d had (something wrong) with their police service leave dates. ”
Married to a fellow police officer, the former Serious and Organised Crime Branch detective insists that she would happily do the same level of follow-up for a colleague in a sticky situation.
“I’ll always be the person who will challenge something that isn’t right and fight for change and be the voice for members,” she says.
Schulz’s involvement with the Police Association dates back to her roles as a delegate at South Coast and Serious and Organised Crime branches.
And, in that time, she has seen resourcing and staffing levels suffer significant pressure.
“It’s the biggest industrial issue facing members right now,” she says. “No doubt about it.
“Part of what’s happening is that there are issues with understanding people in an HR sense, including their mental health. ”
Schulz asserts that SAPOL needs to continue to improve when it comes to managing people and workplace flexibility.
“Morale (in SAPOL) is low at the moment,” she explains.
“I think maybe we’ve lost our way in terms of handling the team environment and fostering camaraderie. ”
And, according to Schulz, a more collaborative approach between SAPOL and the association might be one of the ways forward.
“We should be looking to create a team between us and SAPOL, working together,” she says.
“Communicating with members, getting their ideas on board, and bringing it up with SAPOL management.
“We need SAPOL and the association to be pulling together in the same direction in terms of listening to members and bringing about change. ”
A life-changing experience led SAMANDA BRAIN to her first direct interaction with the Police Association.
The recently elected committee member lost her husband, Detective Senior Constable Michael Nasalik, to cancer nearly two decades ago.
But a turning point in her life came when she participated in a 2002 Police Journal story (His toughest-ever challenge) about her terminally ill husband.
“Our first experience was with (journal editor) Brett Williams,” she says.
“He wrote an article about my husband’s illness, and our family situation. I found the experience to be quite significant for both of us.
“We wanted to give people a bit of perspective about what sort of illness it was, and how much time he had left.
“And it was an opportunity to thank everyone for the support they had given him, and I think he wanted to pave the way for future support for me and the children.
“It was incredible the effect that journal had on the whole membership.
“SAPOL wound up getting behind us as a family, donating us money and sent us on a holiday.
“It’s amazing how much influence the association and the Police Journal have. ”
Though she had post-traumatic stress disorder in the aftermath of her husband’s death, Brain says she was reticent to seek help.
So, like many cops afflicted by the scourge, she suffered in silence.
“I kept it from a lot of people at first,” she says. “But I found the association was working towards introducing better forms of welfare for members, in the mental health and well-being space.
“I continued to get really good support after my husband passed away too.
“You get some understanding of what the association can do, and I wanted to be able to give back to other members as well, so they can experience what I did. ”
Brain has spent most of her 33 years in policing on the front line and sees the resourcing issue within SAPOL as now at a critical point.
“The biggest issue, especially as a front-line officer, is always going to be staffing,” she says.
“Obviously there’s the extra COVID duties that front-line officers have had to perform, where we’ve had to plug gaps, and have our annual leave cancelled.
“And the burnout that front-line members are experiencing now is unlike anything I’ve ever seen. ”
But Brain feels strongly that, despite the challenges facing members, she can make a significant difference on the association committee — and she brings experience with her.
“I’m on the Police Legacy board,” she explains.
“This association committee feels like a step-up in terms of responsibility. The elections are always really competitive. There’s always good people who have a lot to offer applying for those positions.
“It was very daunting to start with, but it’s only taken a couple of months for me to feel comfortable with the other committee members and have an impact. ”
And there are no signs of the passion fading, now or into the future, according to the brevet sergeant.
“I’m really enjoying it,” she says. “I’m becoming really passionate about what the association does, and I’ve gained some experience from doing the training and leadership programmes.
“I’d definitely be looking to be re-elected for another term if and when the opportunity comes. I think I will build on what I’ve learned so far and get better and better.
“I’m grateful for our members’ support in electing me, and I’m proud to be representing an organization that puts police officers first. ”
THE VOICE
The Police Association’s 2015 Protect Our Cops campaign was deeply personal for SERGEANT TONY COAD. And it wound up being the inspiration behind his election to office as a committee member.
His wife, Senior Constable Alison Coad was one of the faces of that historic campaign.
She contracted a lifelong communicable disease during an arrest earlier in her career. And a proposed Weatherill government revamp of workers compensation legislation threatened to strip her, and other injured cops, of their medical entitlements.
The association won the campaign against the government, with legal experts calling the outcome the best deal for injured workers anywhere in Australia.
“The association fought so hard during that campaign,” Coad says.
“Without it, Ali would never have ended up with the entitlements she gets today. We never would’ve been able to afford to fight SAPOL on our own. We would’ve been paying our own medical bills for life.
“That had a massive influence on me. It inspired me to be a part of it and run for a committee position. This is me wanting to give a bit back. ”
Coad began his career back in 1988 and has spent 28 of those 34 years in and around Hindley St and the CBD.
He describes operational policing as “my greatest love in the job,’ and hopes his experience in that arena can help the association work closely with SAPOL to build collaborative relationships.
“I have a genuine rapport with that upper level,” he says. “Longevity in the job helps a lot with that.
“I know a lot of managers, I know a lot of the bosses and, like all of us, they started off as rank-and-file members.
“I think that anger you can have with management at times — when you think the members are being harshly dealt with — you always need to temper that sentiment with logical discourse.
“We need managers and members working together for the benefit of all. My main goal is to make sure we get the entitlements we deserve. ”
Coad, a patrol sergeant, echoes the sentiments of many members when he touches on the resourcing issues currently gripping SAPOL. He sees it as the number one industrial issue of 2022.
“The stress members are under currently, with COVID…” he laments. “These are strange times. We haven’t been through anything like this before.
“I can see from an organizational perspective what they’re trying to accomplish with the district policing model, but for it to have any chance of working it needs to be staffed properly.
“I had so many members come to me and say they participated in the recent association survey. Members want to talk about how they’re constantly under pressure with taskings and jobs. And it’s not just operational members either.
“A lot of members of all stripes are stressed and suffering, and it has a snowball effect, rolling on to their friends and families. ”
Coad believes the DPM had some issues right from the outset, and that it is incumbent upon SAPOL to review and address those.
“The mistake from the get-go was treating the city and the entertainment precinct as just another suburb,” he says.
“That was always an error and we tried to point that out when the DPM was conceived.
“The other issue with the DPM model is that, when you separate uniformed groups into two distinct groups – response teams and district policing teams – you have segregation of uniformed members who now see themselves as different entities. So the collaboration isn’t there.
“It needs to be reviewed. ”
Coad remembers his entrée to the committee of management as slightly overwhelming, but he relishes the challenge of representing the entire association membership at the board table.
He is also quick to point out the responsibility that comes with that challenge and the commitment required to fulfil the role.
“My very first committee meeting went more than eight hours,” he laughs. “But that committee table is so important to the direction of the association.
“We are the voice of the delegates, and the delegates are the voice of the whole membership. I certainly don’t take that lightly.
“And all the committee members are very passionate people. They want to have their say. It can get robust but, in the final analysis, we all want similar things in policing. ”
MEASURED APPROACH
Accepting constructive criticism — and acting on it — should be a significant part of the job of a committee member.
As one of the newest occupants of the Police Association board table, that’s how SERGEANT DARREN MEAD sees it.
The former CIB member and patrol sergeant, who now works in SHIELD explains that, around that table, he is prepared to give member grievances the hearing they deserve.
“Members have told me their stories of where they think the association could improve,” he says.
“Since I’ve been elected, I’ve been able to talk to them, listen to their points of view and understand where they’re coming from.
“I try to represent that feeling around the committee table and work out a way of resolving those issues. ”
A shooting incident, in which Mead was involved three years ago, demonstrated to him how critical it was to have association support during difficult times.
“I needed a lot of assistance and legal advice during that period” he says.
“I got some incredible help and that was partly my motivation for running for the committee position. ”
Mead, whose experience in the job spans two decades, sees the biggest current industrial issue as the number of members in close contact and COVID isolation.
He also believes the mandatory vaccination order has created unnecessary division within SAPOL.
“It’s definitely one of the biggest issues in the workplace at the moment,” he says.
“A member of my team had a severe adverse reaction (to the vaccine). She had an identified medical issue, that if she took the vaccination it was going to be dangerous to her.
“It went ahead, and what she said was going to happen, happened. She had the adverse reaction and is now suffering because of that.
“I definitely think that a lot of members did it because they felt they had no other option. ”
And, on the issue of mental health, Mead believes there is still more SAPOL can achieve to tackle the stigma surrounding those who seek help.
“The biggest thing SAPOL needs to be is more proactive with its members,” he says.
“There is still a stigma behind people going to see psychologists and the like.
“There should be no stigma. The attitude should be that it’s okay to talk to someone, it won’t ruin your career.
“If there’s a serious incident, we should be getting people coming out to the districts to talk to people, instead of waiting to be asked. ”
Ultimately, Mead doesn’t intend to take his foot off the gas in keeping SAPOL accountable.
“I’ve been elected by the members,” he says. “There’s members who think I’m worthy of being here, and I don’t intend to let them down.
“I’d like to think that people know I have strong ethics, my integrity is intact, and I attack everything with a measured approach to ensure I get the best outcome for everybody.
“Ultimately, it’s not about me, it’s about the people who voted me in. That they can be confident the issues they’ve raised will at least be brought into the conversation.
“We can’t always promise an immediate solution, but I can at least promise their story can be heard.” PJ
POLICE ASSOCIATION OFSOUTH AUSTRALIA
Group Life Insurance Beneficiary Nomination Forms
Owing to a Supreme Court decision, the Police Association no longer uses the GLI beneficiary forms. Existing forms held at the association have been destroyed.
Now, in the case of the death of a member, the GLI benefit (currently $300,000) will be paid to his or her estate.
Accordingly, the association’s strong advice is that you ensure that your estate is well-administered. This is best achieved by having a valid will. Tindall Gask Bentley Lawyers provides a free legal advice service to Police Association members and their families, and retired members. To make an appointment to receive free preliminary legal advice covering all areas of law, particularly families and wills, members should contact the Police Association (08 8212 3055).
