The Missing Piece in Justice Reform: Officer Wellness

“Caring for myself is not self-indulgence, it is self-preservation.”— Audre Lorde

When we talk about justice reform in Rochester and across America, we often focus on police accountability, civilian oversight, body-worn cameras, and racial bias training. These are all crucial. But if we want a system that doesn’t just react to crisis after crisis, we need to ask a deeper question:

George Cassidy Payne

Who is caring for the people we task with caring for others, especially in our most vulnerable, overpoliced communities?

As someone who’s worked in domestic violence prevention and now suicide crisis support, I’ve partnered with officers doing deeply honorable work, some of them showing extraordinary compassion under pressure. But I’ve also seen what happens when officers are emotionally exhausted, burned out, or operating from trauma they haven’t named or healed. The consequences aren’t abstract. They land on people, especially Black and Brown people.

That’s why I believe officer wellness is not a luxury or distraction. It’s not about sympathy for the badge. It’s about safety, trust, and justice in the communities that have been harmed the most.

When I shared an earlier version of this essay with a sergeant in Washington State, he offered feedback that struck the heart of the matter:

“What I find missing is any mention of wellness for the sake of the officers themselves. You’re making the case for wellness to improve their performance, but not to preserve their humanity.”

He’s right. Too often, wellness is framed as a tool to reduce liability or improve optics. But this reinforces the idea that officers only matter when they perform well. That their worth is transactional. They are machines needing tuning, not human beings carrying unbearable loads.

The Hidden Crisis Behind the Badge

Policing is linked to high rates of PTSD, substance abuse, and suicide. According to research by John M. Violanti and Timothy J. Steege, officers are 54% more likely to die by suicide than the general population, and twice as likely to die by suicide than in the line of duty.

These are not just statistics. They are people, partners, parents, protectors. That same sergeant is one of them, a suicide survivor who now mentors others through darkness. That, too, is policing.

“It’s lying awake at night knowing I simply got lucky that one call...it’s holding someone dying on the side of the road...lifting a dead infant out of a septic tank...watching the same DV survivor return to the same Partner...going to the same suicidal subject until they’re actually dead…all while shouldering the misconduct of every officer, everywhere, in every time.”

This is what breaking looks like. And it’s why reform must begin with the restoration of dignity the right to feel.

The Frontline Reality: A Sheriff’s Deputy Speaks

Chaunte Ford, a sheriff’s deputy in the Greater Minneapolis area with 13 years of law enforcement experience, adds powerful, practical depth to this conversation. Specializing in community engagement and youth mentoring, Ford speaks from firsthand experience.

She advocates for routine psychological evaluations, every five years and after every major critical incident:

“I was involved in one major critical incident, and I had nightmares for a long time after.”

She also believes in paid mental health days as essential, not a luxury.

“Today, for example, I had extra hours and took the day off, I so much needed it. I’ll be refreshed and ready for an event tomorrow. This idea is lovely and should be offered to all officers.”

At her department, confidential counseling services are available, and she uses them. She also promotes simple, proactive tools such as breathing techniques that officers can use in the moment.

“We need to say it’s OKAY to talk to someone. I wish we had soundproof rooms for confidentiality, but I like that the service is accessible.”

Ford’s love for the job is clear, but so is her plea:

“The majority of law enforcement feel the same, we truly care about our communities. We are called to run into danger. To do that, we must be healthy and supported to get the care we need.”

A Survivor’s Reflection: When Officers Are Well, Survivors Are Seen

Danielle Churly, a survivor advocate based in Greater Toronto, brings another vital voice. A leader in anti-human trafficking and gender-based violence, she knows how critical a healthy officer can be to a survivor’s path to justice.

“The officers I worked with had a healthy work-life balance. They were motivated. They showed up.”

One detective stands out to her, someone who pursued her trafficking case with rare empathy and follow-through:

“He was deeply invested, not just in the case, but in me. I still update him on my life. That tells me he’s doing the work. You don’t show up for survivors like that unless you’ve invested in self care.”

Danielle hopes a new generation of trauma-informed officers, like her friend Nicole, a recruit with a social work background, can change the culture. But she’s clear-eyed about inequality:

“There’s no question that white survivors are more likely to be believed. As a white woman, my case went through the courts. I was seen. I was heard. That’s not always true for Indigenous women, Two-Spirit people, and others who are systematically ignored.”

She points to Canada’s crisis of missing and murdered Indigenous people as emblematic of this failure:

“It’s vital for those most impacted to tell their stories. I can’t speak for them, but I can name the privilege in mine.”

Her story underscores this truth: when officers are supported, survivors have a chance to heal. When wellness is absent, harm echoes in both directions.

The Culture That Won’t Allow It

Ted Forsyth, a longtime community organizer and Sociology PhD candidate at the Maxwell School of Citizenship and Public Affairs at Syracuse University, sees the road to officer wellness as fundamentally obstructed by culture.

“This piece cuts to a real, unspoken nerve among police officers. But here’s the thing, the culture of policing won’t allow this. For example, The Locust Club [Rochester, NY's police union] claims to protect officers, but it would never advocate for changes like these.”

For Forsyth, the barrier isn’t just a lack of resources or political will; it’s the very origin story of American policing:

“I recently read Policing Empire by Julian Go. It lays bare how policing in the U.S. is a colonial and imperial project. Militarized. Extractive. Designed to maintain order, not promote well-being. To change the culture, you have to decolonize policing, and that means transforming it from what it is into something radically different.”

He also cites Sgt. Eric Weaver’s biography, which details his work training Rochester officers in emotionally disturbed persons response, before CIT (Crisis Intervention Team) existed. What made Weaver’s work unique was its focus on officers’ internal wellness:

“He’s hopeful, as you are in your writing,” Forsyth told me. “But he knows the culture he’s up against.”

And until wellness is mandated on a national scale?

“Unless officer wellness is mandated across all 18,000 police departments, I’m not sure we’ll see meaningful systemic change.”

The Political Weight Behind Emotional Strain: Captain Frank Umbrino Speaks

Captain Frank Umbrino of the Rochester Police Department offers a critical perspective on the root causes of officer emotional stress:

“We can stop what is in my opinion the biggest cause for emotional issues with police officers – the political crap and rhetoric that follows critical incidents. It not only affects the involved officers, but everyone in the profession. Every officer is well aware ‘it could have been them’ if they were on duty that night or if they were closer to the dispatched call.”

Drawing from over 30 years in various roles—from Major Crimes Unit to Tactical and Narcotics—Umbrino urges honest reckoning:

“To solve an issue, one must first acknowledge it exists. Then we need to be honest about the causation, no matter how uncomfortable or politically incorrect the answer may be.”

He frames policing effectiveness as a balance between “warrior” and “guardian” mindsets, recognizing the harsh realities officers face.

What causes stress?

• The exposure to daily tragedies and violent, immoral behavior

• The second-guessing and politicizing of officers’ necessary actions by ill-informed politicians and activists driven by selfish agendas.

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“This is the biggest cause of their emotional stress and all the issues that arise from that stress.”

Umbrino cautions:

“We can’t prevent all tragedies, but we can minimize the second-guessing and politicizing of police actions, that has the greatest impact on officer wellness.”

He also makes clear:

“Accountability is critical. ‘Dirty’ cops must be dealt with. But if society truly cares about officer wellness, the biggest step is to minimize the legitimacy of those who seek to build careers tearing down the police.”

Systems Resist Change: Dr. Brian Lovins on Structural Barriers

Dr. Brian Lovins, founder of Justice System Partners in Whitehouse, Ohio, sheds light on systemic inertia:

“Systems are built for status quo. They resist change. They are actually built to maintain themselves. People enter them with idealism and the idea to make the system better, and they are shaped to believe the system works the way it does.”

He points to the criminal justice system’s revolving door:

“70% of people leaving prison are re-arrested within 5 years. But instead of making the necessary (sometimes brave) changes, we build a system that is insular to those failures, blame the individuals, and put them back through.”

Lovins warns:

“We can’t have law enforcement officers who are unhealthy engaging with a public that is potentially unhealthy. But the systems around law enforcement are detrimental to the job to be done. We need to restructure the system so officers can be healthy.”

From Both Sides of the Badge: A System Reckons with Itself

Dr. Craig Waleed, educator, author, and criminal justice reformer, takes the argument further. With lived experience inside prisons and a career dismantling carceral systems, he makes the stakes plain:

“True criminal justice reform must begin with an honest reckoning of the human cost of policing, not only for the communities affected but also for those who wear the uniform.”

He’s spoken with incarcerated men brutalized by emotionally shut-down officers, and officers who quietly confessed to unraveling under moral injury:

“When officers are emotionally dysregulated and unsupported, it becomes almost impossible for them to serve in just or compassionate ways. That’s not making excuses. That’s understanding the ecosystem that breeds harm.”

His call is unapologetically radical:

“Just as I’ve advocated for the abolition of solitary confinement, I also believe we must abolish the culture of stoicism and suppression in policing. Officer wellness should be proactive, embedded, and culturally relevant—making room for officers to explore bias, heal trauma, and reconnect with their moral compass.”

Because, as he says:

“Unhealed people in positions of power are dangerous.”

A Corrections Perspective: Designing for Wellness

Scott Frakes, a longtime corrections consultant and former Director of Nebraska’s Department of Correctional Services, brings decades of insight:

“There are spots of brilliance sprinkled across the country within prisons and jails, and I know the same is true for law enforcement. But the work remains in its infancy.”

Frakes has spent the last 20 years advancing wellness in corrections, fighting against a warrior culture that says criminal justice professionals can’t show vulnerability:

“No tears. No hugs. No emotions. That’s what we’re taught. But that wall is starting to crack.”

He believes change starts with physical environments and has spent the last decade helping design facilities with wellness in mind:

“We must create healthier spaces for the people we house and the people we ask to work within those spaces.”

What Real Wellness Looks Like

If we want a public safety system that works—for everyone—we must care for the people within it. That means:

• Embedded wellness units in every department, staffed with trauma-informed clinicians

• Mandatory mental health screenings at hiring, annually, and post-critical incidents

• Confidential peer support and counseling without career consequences

• Paid mental health leave, integrated as protection, not punishment

• Training in emotional regulation, moral injury, and mindfulness

• Family-centered wellness initiatives, recognizing trauma at home

• Independent oversight and transparency, ensuring wellness efforts are not optional or performative

• Healthy physical work environments, including natural light, calming palettes, and spaces that soothe

And, as Chief of Police Matthew Markham of Columbia Heights, MN, emphasizes:

“Resiliency training is a very important part. The best training I have attended included both EQ and Hardiness assessments to learn about yourself and then develop tools based on that bounce back.”

His department includes Followership and Leadership training alongside education on sleep, diet, and exercise, a holistic model treating officer health as the bedrock of public safety, not an afterthought.

Why This Matters

I’m not on the side of abolition, not because I dismiss it, but because I struggle to imagine its realization on a national scale. Policing feels so deeply entrenched in the systems and psychology of American society that, while abolition is aspirationally powerful, I doubt that it is pragmatically attainable. Still, I believe in the capacity of communities to create safety without policing, and I hold deep respect for those who are building those systems now.

Where I land is more reformist, not out of ideological alignment with the existing system, but from a sober recognition of its pervasiveness.

I understand the heartbreak behind calls for abolition, the belief that reform is too little, too late.

Still, I believe, as James Baldwin wrote:

“Not everything that is faced can be changed, but nothing can be changed until it is faced.”

This is what we must face: Policing is traumatizing work. And unless we transform the emotional and structural conditions of that work, all the training in the world will fail. Criminal justice reform must care about everyone. And wellness—real, embedded, justice-rooted wellness—is not indulgence.

It is survival.

For officers.

For survivors.

For communities.

For our shared humanity.

~

George Cassidy Payne is a freelance journalist, poet, and crisis counselor based in Rochester, NY. With two master’s degrees in the humanities and a background in philosophy and social work, George writes incisively on politics, culture, and social justice. He serves as a 988 Suicide Prevention Counselor and nonprofit creative strategist, weaving lived experience and ethical inquiry into compelling narratives that illuminate complex human stories. His work has appeared in both local and national outlets.