Great News! This Sexist Is No Longer a Cop

As I’ve begun writing about the misconduct and bigotry I experienced during my time in law enforcement, I realize just how much processing I still have ahead of me (is that a cute way of saying I have CPTSD?)

Sometimes, when a buried memory rears its vivid head, I’m reminded that I’ve just barely begun sharing my story. On days like today, I find myself dropping everything and running for the keyboard to get it all out.

FTOs and FNGs

When I graduated the police academy at 22, new officers were required to pass an additional period of training monitored by Field Training Officers (FTOs) before they were allowed to work on their own.

One of my FTOs was a few years older than me and more than a little jaded by the time we began working together. At first it seemed like he was annoyed to have me around. He was the kind of guy who thought it was hilarious to try to embarrass me in front of everyone, something that was pretty easy to do, considering I was a brand new young officer and one of few females.

As you could probably guess, his teasing turned out to mean he wanted to sleep with me. Honored, I’m sure.

Fools on Parade

After a few weeks of tension, we actually started working pretty well on calls together. With that came some common ground and (I thought) respect. When we realized we’d been invited to the same holiday party at another officer’s house, I was relieved to know someone else going.

There was a parade on the afternoon of the party, so some of us met up early and started day drinking.

From the moment we saw each other that day, my FTO was much flirtier than he was at work. He kept saying I wasn’t drinking enough and needed to loosen up.

As he became progressively drunker, this flirting devolved into a weird possessive vibe that the rest of the party definitely picked up on.

I had a couple of other friends there, and they were doing that thing where every time we made eye contact they’d raise their eyebrows like, “You ok, girl?” and I was raising mine back then glancing briefly up and to the left like, “This is an interesting development, but also not going to happen”. You know the look.

I was feeling uncomfortable and more than a little concerned about people getting the wrong idea, but I thought I knew him well enough that I could handle his advances.

Never Go To a Second Location

He kept trying to make excuses to get me alone, which I’d shut down. I’d recently begun dating someone new, another new officer I’d gone through the academy with, and it was easy to see he was an extremely jealous guy who wouldn’t take lightly to someone else flirting with me, even if it led nowhere (you may have heard of this traumatic individual from some of my other articles).

At one point, my FTO went so far as to convince me a group of partygoers were meeting at a restaurant down the street for dinner and that he’d give me a ride. When we got to the restaurant where we were supposedly meeting the “group”, however, it turned out it was just the two of us.

I made it clear that I wanted to eat as quickly as possible and get back to the group. He insisted on paying and tried to get me to drink more, even though by this point he’d obviously had too much.

When we finally made it back, he seemed moody that nothing had happened between us. I guess I wasn’t acting grateful enough to have been… tricked into going on a date?

Quick refresher, my dude: in our profession, we’d call lying to someone in order to trick them into going to a second location kidnapping.

Mom’s the Word

He didn’t make it long once we got back. After third-wheeling the (purposefully prolonged) conversation I started with a friend, he finally passed out sitting up in a chair with a beer in his hand.

Before he fell asleep, I’d already become so uncomfortable that I texted my mom and asked her to come pick me up.

That’s right, a 22-year old cop called her mom to pick her up from a party. And guess what? She not only started driving the approximate hour to me immediately, she somehow had time to find an adorable side table for my new apartment on a trade board right near the party. We picked it up on the way back and I still use it to this day.

My mom doesn’t know about this blog yet, but if she eventually reads this, I hope she knows what a legend she is.

The Hangover

While the above was uncomfortable for sure, it wasn’t anything too egregious, or even that surprising. I’d been hit on by my fair share of drunk dudes, and compared to some of their behavior, this wasn’t even particularly memorable.

It could’ve easily been chalked up to a lightly embarrassing night where my trainer got a little too drunk and struck out. The world would have continued turning. No harm, no foul.

Unfortunately, that’s not what happened.

A few weeks after the party, I got a furious phone call from the guy I was seeing (aka my abuser of the next 5 years).

He said he’d been at the police academy gym lifting weights when one of our previous instructors came in to gossip about how the recent graduates were doing now that they were on field training.

Apparently, this academy instructor had it on good authority that I was sleeping with at least three men in the department, one of whom was my field trainer.

Author’s note: If you’re sleeping with multiple consenting adults and they’re all cool with it, go off! We don’t sex shame on this page, but we do call out those who do.

Rumors Only Grow

The implication of this careless rumor, no matter how blatantly untrue, was that I’d used sex in order to pass field training. The suggestion alone was all it took to stain me for the remainder of my time in law enforcement, even after leaving that department.

Strangely enough, the same academy instructor who’d helped spread the rumor about me was let go a year or so later for (alleged) sexual misconduct, including sleeping with recruits and harassing female officers.

He wasn’t the only one who’d heard the “news”, however. It was spreading like wildfire across the city. I started calling around, trying to find out where people were hearing it from.

…Want to take a guess?

Big Reputation

After embarrassing himself at the party that night, my FTO did what any vindictive, woman-hating asshole would do: spread a lie about me that I’d be forced to carry into every room for the remainder of my time as a police officer.

That’ll show me for not sleeping with someone against my will!

In being branded with this label, I joined the ranks of countless successful women accused of sleeping with the boss to get ahead. The possibility that an older officer in a position of authority would leverage that power imbalance to take advantage of their trainee didn’t seem to cross anyone’s mind.

Because how often does sexual coercion like that really happen, anyway?

Big Repercussions

The fact that the entire department seemed to be talking about the rumor made me feel like I’d done something to deserve the humiliation. This unearned shame was then compounded by my abuser, who naturally never believed me when I told him it wasn’t true and held it over me at every opportunity.

It was one of the first instances of him harshly punishing me for my imagined promiscuity, something that’d become a regular occurrence in our relationship. He would later double down on this behavior as he projected his own guilt for cheating.

The rumor was later used as a way for my department to delegitimize me as a victim of his domestic violence, but that’s a story for another rant.

Oh, and my FTO, the man who spread career-destroying lies about a young woman he held a position of power over after she turned him down? I’m sure he’s doing just fine. He was hired by a federal agency shortly after this happened. I’ve seen him on the news a couple of times.

He actually sent me a text a year or so ago, completely out of the blue, asking if we could talk, but I didn’t respond. I don’t really care what he has to say about it, at this point. I’m finally free of that toxic environment.

If I ever get curious, I’m sure I could find out what he wanted by asking around.

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Veronica Wren Trauma Recovery Book Club

Catch and Kill: Lies, Spies, and a Conspiracy to Protect Predators — Ronan Farrow

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