Editor's Note: This editorial was inspired in part by the documentary series The Gray Gods, produced by WAVE News, which examines allegations of misconduct involving certain members of the Kentucky State Police. The opinions expressed below are solely those of the author and are based on a combination of the documentary, publicly available information, and the author's own personal experiences with law enforcement over several decades. References to individual encounters reflect the author's recollection of those events and should not be interpreted as applying to every law enforcement officer or agency. The author recognizes that the overwhelming majority of law enforcement officers serve their communities honorably, professionally, and with integrity.
As I've said many times over the years, my first career dream wasn't funeral service—it was law enforcement. From childhood through my junior year of high school, I wanted to become a Kentucky State Police trooper. At the time, however, the salaries simply weren't enough to support the future I envisioned, so I pursued funeral service instead.
Even today, at 57 years old, there is still something about law enforcement that fascinates me. I have always respected the men and women who are willing to put on a badge, walk into dangerous situations, and protect people they have never met.
During the 1990s, while living in a small Eastern Kentucky community, my best friend served first as a deputy sheriff and later as the town's chief of police. I spent countless evenings riding patrol with him. I saw firsthand the unpredictable nature of police work and the difficult decisions officers must make.
In 1999, he called me one afternoon and asked me to meet him at city hall. A large basketball tournament was approaching, and he needed additional help. That day he swore me in as an auxiliary police officer. It fulfilled a lifelong dream, even if only briefly. Changes in Kentucky law soon ended that opportunity, but they never diminished my admiration for the profession.
Throughout my adult life I have supported law enforcement whenever I could. I've purchased meals for officers, donated through fundraisers, and publicly defended officers when I believed criticism was unfair. I still believe that the overwhelming majority of officers enter the profession for the right reasons.
My encounters with law enforcement have also been relatively few. Aside from one speeding citation, I've never had a criminal record. Most of my interactions have involved traffic accidents or simple public safety matters. On two occasions officers stopped me simply to let me know that a taillight or brake light wasn't working. They issued no citation—they simply wanted me to be aware of the problem. Those encounters reflected the kind of community policing that builds trust.
Unfortunately, not every experience has been positive.
Several years ago I encountered a Kentucky State Police safety checkpoint while driving a vehicle with a malfunctioning headlight. I already knew about the problem and had taken the vehicle to multiple repair shops without success. The issue ultimately turned out to be defective wiring.
I fully expected the trooper to mention the headlight. I would have understood if I had even received a citation. What surprised me was the manner in which I was treated. I left that encounter feeling as though I had been viewed as a dangerous criminal instead of an ordinary citizen trying to solve a mechanical problem.
Another incident involved my brother after he was involved in a one-vehicle accident. A deputy sheriff responded. I had previously heard criticism about this deputy's demeanor but had dismissed it as rumor.
When he arrived, his initial focus appeared to be enforcement rather than first determining whether everyone involved was safe. The situation eventually calmed, and he later explained that dispatch had described the accident as much more serious than it actually was, which understandably heightened his sense of urgency. While I appreciated that explanation, the experience reinforced my belief that adrenaline can sometimes influence how officers interact with the public during the first few minutes of an incident.
My only speeding citation also left a lasting impression.
I was driving to my aunt's funeral in 2025 when I was stopped by a Kentucky State Police trooper. I believed I had obeyed the posted school-zone speed limit. The stop itself was confusing because the trooper briefly activated his emergency lights while stationary and motioned toward the shoulder rather than pulling in behind my vehicle in the traditional manner. I misunderstood his intent and continued until he shouted for me to stop.
The encounter quickly became tense. Although the trooper later reduced the speed listed on the citation and apologized to some degree, I left believing the situation had escalated unnecessarily. I later filed formal complaints because I believed the stop could have been handled more professionally.
Reasonable people can disagree about whether a citation was justified. What should never be in dispute is that every interaction between an officer and a citizen should be conducted professionally and respectfully whenever circumstances safely allow.
Watching WAVE's documentary series The Gray Gods brought many of these experiences back to mind. The documentary examines allegations involving certain members of the Kentucky State Police and raises difficult questions about accountability and oversight. Some of the featured cases have resulted in criminal convictions or civil litigation, while others remain disputed. Regardless of where readers ultimately stand on the documentary's conclusions, it serves as a reminder that transparency and accountability are essential to maintaining public confidence in any law enforcement agency.
One concern discussed in the documentary is the perception that agencies sometimes investigate themselves. Whether discussing state police, sheriff's offices, or municipal departments, I believe public confidence is strongest when investigations of alleged misconduct are handled independently whenever possible. Independent review helps protect the public while also protecting officers who acted appropriately.
My concerns are not limited to traffic stops.
After publishing my recent book honoring the officers killed in Allen, Kentucky, criticism appeared on social media almost immediately. Some law enforcement officials and others questioned the book and encouraged people not to purchase it because I had not interviewed certain individuals during my research. I welcome legitimate criticism and factual corrections. That is part of being an author. What disappointed me was seeing judgments made almost immediately after publication, long before anyone could reasonably have read the book in its entirety.
Disagreement is healthy. Attempts to discourage discussion before the facts are even considered are not.
As I was preparing this column, I also noticed a recently booked inmate whose mugshot showed significant facial injuries. My initial reaction was simple: if someone runs from police and resists arrest, there are consequences. Then someone reminded me of an important principle that caused me to reconsider.
Every person arrested in this country remains innocent until proven guilty.
That does not mean officers cannot use force. They absolutely can—and sometimes they must. I have personally witnessed an arrest involving an individual who appeared to be under the influence of drugs and fought officers with extraordinary strength. Multiple officers struggled to gain control. In situations where officers genuinely fear for their safety or the safety of others, force may be both reasonable and necessary.
The question is not whether force may be used.
The question is whether the amount of force used was reasonable under the totality of the circumstances.
That question deserves to be answered through facts, evidence, and objective investigation—not assumptions.
Despite the concerns I've shared, this is not an anti-law enforcement column.
I continue to have tremendous respect for many officers and departments. I think very highly of Rowan County Sheriff Matt Sparks. My experiences with the Morehead Police Department have consistently been positive. I have no desire to paint every officer with the same brush because doing so would be just as unfair as judging every citizen by the actions of a few criminals.
Most officers serve honorably. They deserve our appreciation.
At the same time, every profession has individuals who fall short of the standards the public expects. Law enforcement is no exception. Holding those individuals accountable is not anti-police—it is one of the most important ways to preserve the integrity of the badge.
The public deserves officers who treat people with professionalism and respect.
Officers deserve public support when they serve honorably.
Those two principles are not in conflict. In fact, they depend on one another.
Respect for the badge should never require silence when accountability is needed. Likewise, demanding accountability should never mean losing respect for the many men and women who faithfully wear the uniform every day.
In the end, public trust is built not by slogans or public relations campaigns, but by professionalism, transparency, fairness, and accountability. Those values protect both the citizens who wear no badge and the officers who wear one with honor.
