By Trooper Joseph Gray
I remember it being around four in the morning. I was training a recruit on third shift when a call came in about a female screaming in the middle of Spring Street. The recruit was driving, and when we made the left turn from Adams Street, I saw the woman frantically pacing and screaming in the road. We parked, and she recognized me when we got out. She pointed to the house, yelling, “They got him, Gray, they got him.” Sobbing, she fell to her knees in the street.
I told my recruit to stay with her, and I approached the rear of the house slowly, “slicing the pie” around the corner. I could see a lifeless body on the ground, six to eight feet from the house. Light poured from the open back door of the residence, which a couple of slightly crooked steps led up to. I continued toward the door, keeping as close to the house as possible, and heard more screaming coming from inside.
A disturbing scene
As I closed the distance, I could smell the blood. Along with the characteristic metallic odor, there was a sour, almost vinegary tinge to it. I had been mindful of my light, not using it thus far to avoid giving up my position, but I turned it on as I grew closer to the body. At first glance, I saw that most — if not all — of the male’s upper head was gone. My light also illuminated the side of the house, and I spotted the victim’s blood and what appeared to be brain matter down the siding. I will never forget the strong smell coming from the wall, the sourness of the blood; to this day, I still think of the brains making it smell that way. Entering the house
Reaching the doorway, I could see into a room, its linoleum floor covered in blood and water. There was so much blood that it almost looked staged, like someone had gone too far setting up the scene of a horror movie. I could still hear yelling; thinking it was coming from inside, I announced myself loudly. Then, I told dispatch I had someone inside and was entering the residence via the rear door. I heard water running and called out, “Police! Police! If there is someone in here, identify yourself.” I unholstered my gun and took one step in — and my feet slid out from under me, causing me to slam my face and left shoulder into a pool of blood and water. I had blood in my eyes, nose, and mouth; even my hair was soaked. All I could do was get back up and advance through the room.
Navigating the horror
I made my way through the kitchen and saw that the refrigerator was on its side, blocking the doorway to the next room. It was covered in blood, but at this point, so was I; I slid across the blood and continued on. I entered the living room with a TV, a large couch and carpeted flooring. As I continued to yell, “Police! Police! Announce yourself,” I realized that the sound of running water was coming from one of the two rooms off the living room. I could see into them; in the bathroom, the toilet was shattered in pieces and was spraying water everywhere. With the lights on throughout the house, I could then see that clearly, no one was inside but me.
The aftermath
It turned out that the murdered man was fronting drugs to sell. When he did the drugs himself and had no money for the dealers, they came to his house. They interrogated him, and then attempted to drown him in the toilet; as he thrashed, the toilet broke, causing severe lacerations to his neck, head and face. The victim fought to escape, and, due to the massive amount of blood and water, was able to slip free. He attempted to dash out of the back of the house. He knocked the refrigerator over at the doorway to get away but was shot in the back by the dealers in pursuit. Getting out of the rear door was a struggle because of the massive blood loss and gunshot wound. He fell out the door only to be confronted by another assailant who took a gun, stuck it to the back of the victim’s head, and pulled the trigger, leaving the scene as described.
Coping with trauma
I share this incident for several reasons, the least of which is to shock the reader. I am not a clinician or counselor, nor do I claim to be an expert in processing trauma or critical incidents such as these. I have, however, like most in the profession of law enforcement, experienced a very long list of similar incidents. I have done my best to cope both physically and mentally in the wake of these tragic events, with some successes and some failures. In my career of 20-plus years, I have utilized many coping mechanisms — and I can assure you that many, especially alcohol, were not the answers for me.
When I started my career in 1999, the chances that I and others in the profession were able to speak to a clinician anonymously were minimal at best. Personally, I felt that I would be looked down on and considered weak for needing help, that fellow officers might distance themselves from me or not want me to back them up on calls. The personal struggles with self-awareness of my coping mechanisms were real: I knew that I had trouble with alcohol, but I didn’t know what else to turn to; I saw myself as a go-getter, and the only clear path was to stay strong and hold on tight. I tried to push all the traumatic experiences deep down inside, but they strengthened their hold on my mind until all I could think about was the dark side of life, the bad in everything. Nightmares replaced dreams. I felt responsible for everyone and everything around me like I was always on duty, never able to rest. I didn’t take care of myself, and when I looked in the mirror, I couldn’t recognize the person looking back.
Finding a healthier path
It took a while before I realized that I needed someone or something to open my eyes to a healthier way to process traumatic events as they happened. I wondered — what is the answer?
Recently, I took it upon myself to take a hard look at what I have been through and what I have done to grapple with those experiences along the way. I was blessed with opportunities to attend several mental health and wellness conferences in the United States, where I listened to amazing speakers, knowledgeable clinicians and experts. It has been an honor to hear them, and all should be held in high regard for their efforts to help others. I have felt especially connected to those who share personal experiences of trauma; to me, their words echo the loudest. Beyond the presentations, I read books about trauma and post-traumatic stress disorder. Works on eye movement desensitization and reprocessing became staples at the kitchen table. I learned that healthy coping mechanisms such as diet, exercise, and sleep are great, as well as ice baths and saunas — but still, I wondered, what else?
Creating “ghost blood”
I decided to do what I could to help other individuals suffering from trauma by developing a presentation of my own on mental health and wellness. The title of the presentation, “Ghost Blood,” refers to the memories of all those we have lost. I chose to expose all my nerves and tell my story in hopes that others might relate and choose better ways to cope with their own trauma. My story took me to rock bottom and all the dark places on the way; it is about pounding your fist on the ground and getting back up because quitting is not an option. “Ghost Blood” includes a rudimentary glance at how the brain processes critical incidents, and it provides information on healthy coping mechanisms both traditional and unique. With support from my associates, I delve into suicide indicators and awareness, and network opportunities for seeking help.
The importance of wellness in law enforcement
For the law enforcement community to genuinely accept and implement effective mental wellness initiatives, there must be buy-in. Everyone must face the simple fact that human beings are not designed to be force-fed a steady diet of stress. Individuals in law enforcement are called to respond to an incident and, upon arrival, are expected to instantaneously process the scene, make the environment safe, and allocate the proper resources to attain a proper, lawful resolution. Statistics are not my forte, but I don’t find surprising the fact that these individuals are subjected to critical incidents and trauma on a level 20 to 100 times more frequently than those not in law enforcement. The combination of frequency and severity of these incidents is, clearly, harmful to our physical and mental well-being.
Normalizing mental health
The truth is that everyone is different, and everyone reacts to and copes with trauma in their own ways. However, I believe that there is a universal first step in achieving better mental health in the law enforcement community: normalizing wellness. We must make the existence of a wellness program more “normal” than the absence of one. We must teach the community what happens physiologically when we endure critical incidents, and how the subsequent stress manifests in our mental health. We must provide opportunities to learn about healthy coping mechanisms, how to recognize the signs of struggling and the shamelessness of asking for help. The pinnacle to successful communication, I might add, is the ability to speak with clinicians under an assurance of privacy.
Strength in seeking help
Police officers should be encouraged to understand that needing help does not mean that they are broken. Conversely, seeking support means that they are strong enough to know that we all have limitations to the amount of stress we can successfully manage. Not to mention we can do more when we’re healthy.
How much do we spend each year on the latest and greatest in tactical gear — squad cars, guns, TASERs, uniforms, bullet-resistant vests? How much do we spend on mental health and wellness resources? I don’t ever remember seeing someone with a bullet-resistant vest wrapped around their head to protect their brain.
We must do better in protecting our most valuable asset.
About the author
Trooper Joseph Gray has been in law enforcement in various capacities since 1999. He is currently on the Illinois State Police Criminal Patrol Team and Highway Interdiction Team and is a Level 2 and 3 Commercial Vehicle Inspector. As a Union Trustee for Troopers Lodge #41, Joe has assisted with walk-throughs of officer-involved shootings and advocated for others who have lost family members to suicide. Joe is a certified instructor with the Illinois State Police who teaches classes with the primary missions of increasing wellness among law enforcement officers and advocating for victims of human trafficking. He is certified by the Illinois Law Enforcement Training and Standards Board, the National Suicide Awareness for Law Enforcement Officers (SAFLEO), and Critical Incident Stress Management (CISM).
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