The Capital

Recruits driven by national dialogue

Police academy’s most diverse class in history readies to join ranks

- By Alex Mann

Before diving into the course material, Lt. Chad McFarlane took a moment Wednesday to appreciate his students’ commitment.

Facing him in a makeshift, socially distanced lecture hall at the Anne Arundel County Police Academy in Davidsonvi­lle were 44 law enforcemen­t recruits wearing dark blue face coverings and uniforms.

Not only did the 91st Recruit Class join lawenforce­ment during the coronaviru­s pandemic, McFarlane said the recruits chose this career at a time when the profession has perhaps never been less popular.

Protests have persisted across the country in the wake of the death of George Floyd, and other Black people, in police custody. Activists have demanded defunding law enforcemen­t, questioned how officers use force and whether they are held accountabl­e. Pictures of tense standoffs between police and protesters have emerged. In some cases, officers have been the targets of violence.

A Black officer who was just promoted to be a part of the command staff, McFarlane told the class he’s not sure whether he’d join the profession today. But, he said, this Anne Arundel class is uniquely poised to rise to the challenge.

Comprised of 50% minority recruits, the 91st is the most diverse recruit class in the police academy’s history. The class is primarily made up of aspiring Anne Arundel County officers, while a handful of recruits are slated to become county sheriff’s deputies, Annapolis police officers, or fire investigat­ors.

The class is evidence of a minority hiring push by the department, which has prioritize­d making the agencymore reflective of the county. Recruiters have regularly attended job fairs at Historical­ly Black Colleges and Universiti­es, paired with local

efforts, saidMarc Limansky, police department spokesman. He added the county’s pay and benefits contribute to prospectiv­e policewant­ing towork in Anne Arundel.

For at least four recruits, what’s happening across the country has made them more determined to join the law enforcemen­t ranks.

As much as true for recruit officer Virginia Hernandez, 30. She said she’s wanted to become an officer since high school, and dreams of investigat­ing homicides as a detective.

Hernandez grew up in neighborin­g Howard County, but frequented parks and shopping malls in Anne Arundel. She said her Hispanic heritage allows her to relate with the movement sweeping across the country, but reaffirmed her commitment to becoming a cop. She said shewants to be an example for her three boys to look up to, to teach youths that police are there to help, not harm.

“Just because one police officer did something, it doesn’t mean all police officers are bad,” Hernandez said.

Andwhenrec­ruit officer Dondre Phillips thinks about the negative narrative about police, it just doesn’t add up. He said he’s never had a bad encounter with an officer. Phillips, who is Black, wants to do his part tomake sure that his experience with police is not an exception.

“I’m just looking forward to helping people,” he said.

Before that, he’ll have to endure the academy. As a former Marine, he’s already gone through boot camp but admits to having the normal nerves about the unknowns of academy life.

The first couple ofweeks of the academy can shock some, said Lt. Greg Speed, the training division’s executive officer. For instructor­s, it’s about changing mindsets and setting expectatio­ns. For recruits, it’s acclimatin­g to academy life — working together and answering to authority — and the fundamenta­ls of policework.

Already, six recruits have dropped out. The academy usually loses 10-15% of a class before graduation, Speed said. Reasons range from a recruit not keeping up with the rigors to realizing they couldn’t pull the trigger in a life-or-death moment, or the fact that policing is not as sexy as it’s made out to be on TV. It’s not about high speed chases and slapping handcuffs on the bad guy.

Recruits must report to by 7:30 each morning, but the start time is even earlier. They park in the overflow lot and march together up rural Elmer F Hagner Lane, past the weathered cinder block building where their predecesso­rs trained and up to the shiny new Charles B. Butch Troyer Training Center. The facility features stateof-the-art classrooms, a driving simulator and a 340-degree virtual reality room.

Right now, they are learning how to use the rugged laptops equipped in every police cruiser, the basics of writing incident reports, as well as using a radio and the requisite lingo. They’ll do some fitness, too.

“Our priority here is to get them to learn to be police officers, not to be amazing athletes,” said Sgt. Todd Betz, one of the training officers.

Nextweek, the recruits will go through a leadership course taught by a third party, one of four extra weeks of instructio­n granted by the police department. It’s tough to add much to the curriculum required by the Maryland Police and Correction­al Training Commission­s in just 30 weeks. Betz said instructor­s are thankful for the extra time, much of which will focus on more deescalati­on taught through realistic scenarios, and diversity.

Then it’s on to learning the law, Speed said. The State’s Attorney’s Office teaches constituti­onal and criminal law for two weeks. Recruits are tested every day.

Instructor­s introduce recruits to their weapons duringweek six, allowing them to be fully loaded for almost all reality-based scenario, Betz said. That gives instructor­s a lot of time to correct recruits if they use the wrong type of force orweapon.

Theyteach at length about another thing, too: diversity.

McFarlane’s voice rose above the hum of an air conditioni­ng unit, ashe stood before a mostly empty white board Wednesday. In the top left corner, it said 226. That’s how many days remain before graduation.

“This is one of our tools for your tool belt,” McFarlane told the recruits. “It’s not sexy; you can’t drive it fast… but it can save your life out there.”

He was leading a course about cultural diversity, the first of a number classes about implicit biases, and its relation to police work. He said the recruits were going to come across people who are different from them regularly as police officers. Part of community policing, he said, is understand­ing and respecting that others have different perspectiv­es, shaped by how they grew up

“You guys have to get out of the police car and make contact,” he said. “My job is to reach out to someone who does not look likeme.”

“What is diversity? he asked. “Difference­s,” “culture,” “the United States,” recruits responded.

He pointed out the difference­s in the group. Some hailed from cities including Washington, Baltimore, Philadelph­ia, Pittsburgh and New York. Others grew up in rural areas. Southern Anne Arundel County. UpperMarlb­oro. Somerset County. Upstate New York. Then, McFarlane gave an example of how they might view the same encounter differentl­y.

McFarlane said where he grew up in NewYork, youdidn’t stare at a personwhen walking down the sidewalk. A recruit from the city agreed. There, McFarlane said, staring meant you wanted to fight. In other places, he said it might not hold the same connotatio­n.

“The unknown is what’s scary,” Speed said. And throughout the academy, instructor­s try to break that barrier of fear to produce better cops. It’s a point the academy tries to drive home from the get-go.

For some, it’s already resonated. “Communicat­ion is key as we all come from different background­s,” said recruit officer Deonna Diggs, who is Black.

The 24-year-old grew up in Washington and went to school in Anne Arundel. She’s worked as a background investigat­or and as a server, and interned at a public defender’s office. None of Diggs’ experience, she said, compares to the challenge of becoming a cop like her brother. She’s up to the task and wants to be a homicide detective some day.

Asked about the class’ diversity, recruit officer Jason Blair, 39, saidhedidn’t read too much into it. He believes a police department should reflect the community it serves.

And the Anne Arundel County Police Department still haswork to do in terms of matching the population. As of Thursday, the department employed 806 sworn officers, of which about 80% were white and more than 14% were Black. The county is 73% white and18% Black, according to 2019 estimates by theU.S. Census Bureau.

The biracial son of parents who both served in the Navy, Blair was a cop in Arizona for almost six years. He camehome to care for his family andwants to serve his hometownby taking up “the highest calling we have.”

Blair, a BroadneckH­igh School graduate, will be joining a department that’s implementi­ng body cameras under an administra­tion that’s considerin­g a civilian review board. His commitment is unwavering.

“As long as we’re doing the right things and we’re being transparen­t, we can create a better connection with the communitie­s we serve.”

 ?? JEFFREY F. BILL/BALTIMORE SUN MEDIA ?? Anne Arundel County Police Academy recruit Jason Blair, right, encourages a classmate to complete a set of situps.
JEFFREY F. BILL/BALTIMORE SUN MEDIA Anne Arundel County Police Academy recruit Jason Blair, right, encourages a classmate to complete a set of situps.
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 ?? JEFFREY F. BILL/BALTIMORE SUN MEDIA PHOTOS
ABOVE: ?? TOP: Virginia Hernandez, center, completes a set of lunges. The entire recruitmen­t class cheers after joining a classmate — encouragin­g him to complete 50 squats during physical fitness activities. The 91st recruitmen­t class is the most diverse recruiting class in the history of the Anne Arundel County Police Academy.
JEFFREY F. BILL/BALTIMORE SUN MEDIA PHOTOS ABOVE: TOP: Virginia Hernandez, center, completes a set of lunges. The entire recruitmen­t class cheers after joining a classmate — encouragin­g him to complete 50 squats during physical fitness activities. The 91st recruitmen­t class is the most diverse recruiting class in the history of the Anne Arundel County Police Academy.

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