Training that's far from basic
Police academy drills parole officers
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
BY NYIER ABDOU
Star-Ledger Staff
In the dim, cold light, the instructors could be heard before they were seen.
They came marching down the road in two tight columns, briskly crossing the parking lot at Raritan Valley Community
College in Branchburg and fanning out among recruits reporting for their first day at Somerset County Police Academy.
Among the Monday lineup were 20 state parole officer recruits -- 12 men and eight women -- forging the first class of New Jersey parole officers to be trained alongside municipal police and county
corrections officers.
"A parole officer has a lot more responsibility than a member of a local police department," state parole board Chairman Peter Barnes Jr. said at lunch days earlier with the recruits.
Parole officers increasingly are being asked to step into more traditional police roles in the areas of homeland
security, street gangs and supervision of
sex offenders, said Barnes, a former Middlesex County assemblyman who served 26 years with the FBI.
"More and more, as they go into homes, they're finding drugs and firearms," said parole board director Thomas James. "They have to know how to secure those scenes."
The screaming began on cue -- in-your-face, relentless, unsparing. Recruits scrambled in all directions, grabbing duffel bags from their cars, stashing and retrieving papers, sputtering, "Sir! Yes, sir!" and, "Ma'am, I don't know, ma'am!"
"What are you doing? Get out of the cars! Line up now! Get your bags up! Pick them up! In your left hand! Your left hand! Get it off your shoulder! It's not a purse! Why are you moving? Stop moving!"
As the first cracks of light broke on a dreary winter morning, car alarms were added to the cacophony. Instructors threw unlocked car doors open, popped trunks, set off alarms. "Outstanding! All these vehicles are unsecured!" one yelled.
"We have to engineer stress," said the academy's director, Richard Celeste. "They're going to be going out to an environment that's stressful and they're going to be able to think a lot more clearly."
Recruits shifted uncomfortably under the weight of their the duffel bags, which sagged conspicuously.
"Why are you putting that bag down?" roared senior parole officer Jeffrey Eget, who served two Army tours in Iraq. "Do you lack the physical strength to lift that bag? Why don't we take a little nap?"
Everything, from the almost comically cruel dressing down of recruits, to the unflagging attention to detail, connects to a "performance objective," Celeste said.
Parole recruit Luz Villafane, of Newark, was separated from the pack and castigated for failing to remember her papers. From the sidelines, Lt. Kevin Fowler and parole board director James sipped coffee and watched.
"It transfers to the job," Fowler said. "You think you have your gun and you don't. Or you think you have somebody's warrant."
"You can bet she'll remember her papers tomorrow," James said.
"Fix your button -- that one, right there," Eget could be heard screaming. "Attention to detail, people. I miss nothing!"
The importance of details wasn't lost on the recruits.
"I know you have to wear two hats," said recruit and former Marine Eric Brady, 29, of Marlton, in Burlington County. "You have to be a good listener, give good advice. But you also enforce the law."
Increasing demands prompted parole board officials to move training from the Correctional Staff Training Academy in Sea Girt to the Somerset County Police Academy.
The 24-week course -- 10 weeks longer than before -- incorporates police work new to parole officers, including securing crime scenes, transporting evidence and testifying in court. Officers will be trained in clearing buildings, hand-to-hand combat and water safety.
The rest of the state's 405 sworn parole officers are acquiring the same skills over time through in-service training.
Parole officers were not always sworn law enforcement officers and only started carrying weapons in 1994. At that time, training went from an eight-week program to a 12-week course. It was later increased to 14 weeks.
Sheila Espinal, 35, of Paterson, worked in the Passaic County Public Defender's Office before deciding to become a parole officer. A petite bilingual investigator with a pixie haircut, Espinal brings
degrees in
criminal justice and psychology to the job, but she has never been through anything like basic training. "I'm nervous," she admitted.
Back at Parking Lot 5 on Monday, a gaggle of future colleagues gathered to watch the early morning humiliation. One carload of Hunterdon County police officers even brought binoculars to make sure they didn't miss one wince.
Watching the recruits struggle to hoist their bags, one man said the bags just keep getting heavier with time. "They weigh like 90 pounds," he said. "The stuff accumulates and the straps break."