“We are human beings who work with human beings in crisis.”
Denver sheri≠ gets down to business after six months in o∞ce
B
y now, Denver Sheriff Department deputies have heard their new boss’s mantra.
Sheriff Patrick Firman repeats it often. He says it when he speaks to deputies. He says it during media interviews. He says it when attending community meetings.
The department’s newest deputies heard it at their May graduation.
“You’re going to be expected to treat people with dignity no matter how they treat you,” he said. “We are human beings who work with human beings in crisis.”
The job, he says, is all about the people and their relationships with one another. It’s the relationship between deputies and inmates. Between the command staff and the deputies. And between the entire department and the community.
Give people the tools they need. Talk to them face to face. Understand them and get to know them, Firman said.
“It’s not always easy,” Firman said. “Relationships are messy.”
Firman brought this philosophy with him after spending two decades working inside jails in two sheriff ’s departments in suburban Chicago. He never worked as a patrol officer, instead focusing on the care and management of inmates.
“I’m a jail guy,” he said. “That’s my passion.”
Since starting work in October, Firman has made it his business to get to know people inside and outside the jails.
On a recent Friday, Firman operated on just a few hours of sleep as he sat for an interview with The Denver Post. The night before, he had attended a two-hour neighborhood meeting with City Councilman Paul Kashmann that ended at 8 p.m. After a few hours of sleep, he was out the door to attend a 1:41 a.m. shift change at the County Jail on Smith Road.
Firman has tried to attend every shift change at the two jails so he can meet the deputies on their time. That night, he made rounds and talked to deputies until another shift reported for a 5:41 a.m. roll call. He spoke with those deputies and then headed into the office.
“It’s the personal touch, getting to know them, asking questions and talking to them,” he said.
Thus far, ask anyone who has met Firman about their impressions and they’ll say, “Nice guy.”
But can the nice guy accomplish the massive task of reforming the embattled department?
Al LaCabe, a former Denver safety manager who has worked with Firman on reforming the department, said Firman has the right temperament and an understanding of the principles behind the reform.
“So much is coming at you,” LaCabe said. “You have to be able to stay as calm as possible and be capable of reason. You have to be collaborative with the troops and the community.”
Firman has demonstrated those qualities, LaCabe said.
But some are not so sure Firman is the right guy at the right time.
Denise Maes, public policy director of the American Civil Liberties Union of Colorado who also has participated in the reform effort, is not so convinced Firman is the reformer the department needs.
“The question is what can he do postcommittees and post-the-policieshave-been-drafted,” Maes said. “Can he move us ahead?
“Yeah, he’ll drive the ship just fine. We need skills beyond that. I’m not convinced he’s the one.”
Firman got his start in law enforce-
ment after taking a job in the security office at his college, Trinity International University in Deerfield, Ill., where he majored in biblical studies. He worked his way up to be the campus security director as a graduate student.
His interest in law enforcement grew, and Firman said he became fascinated with jails after taking a tour of one as part of a penology course at a local community college.
At the security office, Firman hired a freshman to write tickets. He became friends with the female student, but when their feelings for each other changed, he quit.
“He was my boss,” Margarette Firman said. “How are we going to solve this? He said, ‘I’m going to quit.’ And he quit.”
They dated for a year and married in 1992. The couple have two children, an 18year-old daughter and a 16year-old son.
“He’s a man of his word, and he’s got a tremendous amount of integrity,” Margarette Firman said. “He doesn’t play games. That’s not his thing.”
The couple are deeply religious, and Firman’s decisions are rooted in his Christian faith.
“Christ is part of my life,” he said. “There’s no way I can separate that. It’s part of the decisions I make and what I pursue.”
Before applying for the Denver sheriff job, the Firmans discussed the move and the issues surrounding the department. He read reports and news articles and called people to talk about the opportunity.
“My wife and I both thought this is where I’m supposed to be,” he said.
Firman’s wife and children are staying in Illinois so their daughter could graduate from high school. They plan to join him in Denver this summer.
The distance has been more difficult than expected, both Firmans said.
“I miss my family tremendously,” he said. “It’s been tough without them. FaceTime is good, but it’s just face time.”
When Firman was introduced at a news conference in the mayor’s office, people wondered whether he was the first choice for sheriff or that perhaps he was named as an act of desperation. A week earlier, a secretly recorded phone call between interim Sheriff Elias Diggins and one of the former division chiefs surfaced. In the call, Diggins was critical of city administrators, and shortly afterward, he issued an apology.
Mayor Michael Hancock insists Firman was his man and the timing was just coincidental. The two had just finished a second interview during a three-hour dinner, and Hancock had offered the job.
They were negotiating Firman’s start date when the story broke about the recording.
“It was, ‘You know what? Why wait?’ ” Hancock said.
So far, Hancock said he has been pleased with Firman’s approach.
The new sheriff spent two months observing the command staff and then picked his top two deputies — Paul Oliva and Connie Coyle.
“People had a greater sense of urgency for him to step in and move the china around,” Hancock said.
But the mayor appreciated the more deliberate approach because it made for thoughtful and informed decisions.
Now, Firman is coming forward with more ideas and suggestions, Hancock said, pointing to a recent decision on how to prevent contraband from being brought into the jails.
Metal detectors would be expensive, not just to buy but to staff with security guards. Firman proposed buying more dogs to sniff for drugs and cellphones. He also plans to revamp the policy on what deputies are allowed to bring to work and to place signs about the rules at jail entrances.
“He brought it with confidence,” Hancock said of the idea.
Firman met his first challenge a month into the job when inmate Michael Marshall’s death was ruled a homicide because he had suffocated on vomit while being restrained by deputies during a psychotic episode. The death remains under investigation, so Firman said he is limited in what he can say about the incident.
At the time, he was criticized by the Marshall family, local pastors and the Black Lives Matter movement because he did not quickly release the video footage of Marshall’s death.
Firman said it was a stressful and emotionally draining time for him and his staff. He believes the department did a good job communicating what happened, considering the limitations imposed by the investigation.
“We’re trying to be better,” Firman said. “In situations like this, there’s never going to be a winner. Somebody died, and it’s horrible.”
Since arriving, Firman has tried to instill a sense of pride in his deputies. He publicly refuted a news station’s report accusing deputies of intentionally hurting inmates during van rides. He has pushed for more publicity when deputies save a life or take an extra step to help someone in need.
“All of this talk of what we’re doing wrong has been so overwhelming to people, it’s hard to think of anything else,” Firman said. “We can’t just focus on that’s wrong and that’s wrong and that’s wrong. You need to say ‘Good job’ and ‘That’s what we want you to do.’ ”