Written by: Robert C. Vance III, C.P.P & C.H.E.P.
While visiting the Buffalo News website one recent Sunday morning, I noticed a name that I had not seen in a long time. Instantly, I felt disturbed to the point of sickness and then anger as the events of a past life rolled into my mind like a bad movie. Then came the gut punch. The headline read, “25 years later, Barnett Slepian murder still haunts.”
March 1992. I am a security supervisor at the Women’s & Children’s Hospital in Buffalo, New York. The command staff was not given a lot of information initially, only that we were preparing for some kind of demonstration. Those who had plans for vacation were quickly told to make other arrangements as all personal time off approvals were rescinded until further notice. We were advised that our force would be going to 12-hour shifts, and the department would be divided into A and B teams for the duration of the demonstration. “Okay,” I thought, “Now we’re talking! Time and a half and even some double time!” I had mouths to feed so that set well with me. It didn’t take long for me to piece together what was about to happen: the maintenance department spray-painted white demarcation lines on the sidewalks surrounding the property, and we were reviewing penal codes for harassment, trespass, and criminal trespass. “This is going to be big,” I thought, and I was correct; we were preparing for a visit by hundreds, possibly thousands of protestors, both anti- and pro-abortion. The upcoming demonstrations were labeled ‘Spring for Life.’
April 1992. We finally understood what was about to happen as the news stories and other forms of intelligence were delivered. As we charted the safety plan for the day with the other sergeants, someone said, “This should be easy money.” The information we received was that the demonstrators would be mostly anti-abortion “nuns and a couple of reverends.” I remember, it was cold and dark, even in April. If you’ve ever lived in Buffalo, you are keenly aware that it can be cold in April, and it might snow. “Unit 27 lineup,” I heard my call sign through the crackle of the two-way radio as we began to form skirmish lines on the front lawn of the Children’s Hospital on Bryant Street. I shouted to my colleagues, Lannen and Burruss, “Let’s go home the same way we came!”
Daybreak. The first wave of people arrived and began parking on Bryant Street. I could see the protestors unloading signs and other items; someone was carrying a large glass jar with what appeared to be a fetus. The “Line up and get ready” call came over the two-way radio as we re-formed the skirmish line. The plan was to place the largest and most intimidating officers at the front. And that’s what we did. Our ‘A-Team’ boasted some of the largest officers that beer, pizza, buffalo wings, and roast beef on Kummelweck could produce.
More demonstrators started arriving — 25, 50, then 100+. They shouted at us and they shouted at each other, back and forth all day long. “Please stay off of the property” was the direction I gave to a group of protesters who were visibly tired and began to sit on the front lawn. As I was giving directions to that group, one of the nuns tossed a bag of blood containing animal intestines toward us. The bag of blood hit the edge of the retaining wall and splattered on the lawn. Those gathered with that group shouted, “Murderers!” as another nun prepared to launch another bag of blood mixed with animal intestines.
I said, “If you get that [stuff] on me, I’m going to lock you up.” Thankfully, she placed the bag back into her sack and continued marching.
I wasn’t really religious at the time; however, I was raised with the three tenets: God, Country, and Family. Could I arrest a nun? Yes. Did I want to arrest a nun? No! My upbringing caused some serious internal discomfort. I figured if I arrested that nun, it would probably give me a direct ticket to the “hot place.” Oh well.
Crossroads
It was 1994 at Millard Fillmore Suburban Hospital. “He’s leaving his office now,” came the call over the radio. “Can someone meet Dr. S.?” I responded, “154 is en route.” I waited patiently outside of the doctor’s entrance for him. “Ok, he’s here,” I radioed back. “154 clear.”
Sometimes he would say thank you, sometimes he just gave a nod, sometimes he didn’t speak at all, and sometimes we would not get a call from his office, and I would see him on campus. It really didn’t matter to me if Dr. Slepian spoke or if he acknowledged me. Part of my duties were to ensure that he arrived and made it safely into the hospital without being harassed.
I can recall several times that I was sure that someone was following him, but most of the time, I rarely saw anything suspicious. But I did understand that a threat existed. I remember one specific occasion when some guy was clearly following him. Dr. S exited his car and started walking towards the physician’s entrance. This person exited his car and started moving quickly towards Dr. S, but when that guy saw me coming towards him, his eyes opened wide. He turned around, got back in his car, and headed down the long driveway towards Maple Road. It seemed he had never seen anyone my size in a uniform and didn’t want any part of me.
During my time on the campus of Suburban Hospital, there were several occasions that were suspicious to me, and I was not comfortable. In those instances, I radioed the operator to dispatch the Amherst Police Department to the hospital. But I never thought anything bad would happen to him.
Trauma
September 1998. Goodbye to snow, ice, blizzards, ground salt, and 10° below zero weather. Goodbye to some of the best pizza and wings on this planet. Hello to sunny southern California!
I had barely settled into my new job in California when I received a phone call from one of my former security command staff. “Huber, what’s up?” I asked. “Do you miss me already?” “No, you jerk,” he responded. “Have you seen the news yet”? I knew it was bad news because I heard the tone in his voice change. “No,” I responded. Frank asked, “Do you remember that doctor we escorted to and from his car into Suburban Hospital?” “Yes, you mean Dr., Slepian? Sure, I remember him, why?” Frank said, “Someone shot and killed him while he was at home.”
My heart felt heavy, and I felt sick to my stomach. It was like a gut punch. Why would someone do that to him or anyone else for that matter? Like a bad movie in my mind, I instantly saw all of the faces that I observed over the years that followed him to the hospital. Could one of them have been the person? Could I have saved him? Surely not, but still…I am not sure what I felt, but it has never left me, and I don’t think it ever will. This is a snapshot of two intersections in my life. At this crossroad, even after 25-plus years, the memories of these events are as fresh as today, as they were then.
Heavy Hearts, High Empathy
This personal account vividly demonstrates the profound impact of shocking news, which can trigger a range of both physical and emotional responses, even when one may lack a direct connection to the events, people, or places involved. These reactions, including feeling physically ill and experiencing emotions like fear, sadness, and anger, are textbook examples of the human response to traumatic events. For those working in law enforcement and other security areas, these human responses underscore the heightened empathy and compassion for our work and the individuals they encounter.
Finding Meaning
Furthermore, this sheds light on the common experience of “what if” thoughts, a frequent occurrence among individuals exposed to trauma. Let it be known that these thoughts do not signal wrongdoing but rather a reflection of commitment and dedication to a profession, highlighting the deep sense of responsibility those working in law enforcement can feel.
Moving Forward Together
The mention of the increased risk of adverse psychological effects on law enforcement and security personnel serves as a clinical reminder of the potential consequences of trauma exposure – both directly and vicariously. Relationship problems, sleep disturbances, depression, substance abuse, and suicidal ideation are all well-documented outcomes, emphasizing the crucial need for comprehensive support systems to address the emotional toll of these roles. This personal account serves as a poignant illustration of the challenges faced by individuals in such professions, emphasizing the critical importance of prioritizing their mental and emotional well-being. In other words, who protects the protectors?
Care for the Caregiver
At Keck Medicine of USC, taking care of the emotional and mental health of our employees is of paramount importance. Caring for our caregivers is directly linked to our ability to deliver quality, innovative, and compassionate care to our patients. The stressors of the ongoing COVID-19 global pandemic highlighted the critical need to establish and sustain comprehensive services that support the overall health and well-being of our caregivers, so they can deliver exceptional medicine at every stage of the patient care journey while thriving personally.
Care for the Caregiver (C4C) is a comprehensive program designed to ease potential work environment stress for our dedicated healthcare staff. C4C provides emotional well-being support to individuals through a phoneline answered by trained counselors and a peer support program where individuals throughout the health system are trained to hold empathetic conversations with peers.
The C4C team also provides group support after a critical event impacts a unit and cumulative stress debriefs to reflect, acknowledge, and give voice to the complexity of their work and the impact it has on them. In addition to emotional well-being support, C4C also has a financial assistance program for individuals who experience an emergency and a relaxation therapy program to support the physical health of our employees.
For more information about C4C, you can visit: Emotional Well-Being Support – Keck Medicine of USC
Finally
I understand the technical information as well as the causes and consequences of trauma. I can clinically apply this knowledge to my own experience. All the explanations and analyses make sense, and they help me deal with it all. I just can’t – and probably never will – be able to get rid of the gut punch.
Robert C. Vance III, C.P.P. & C.H.E.P., served as a security supervisor at the Women’s & Children’s Hospital in Buffalo New York until 1994 and then as the Safety & Security Coordinator at Suburban Hospital from 1994 until 1996. Bob is widely regarded as one of the nation’s leading multi-discipline professionals in his field and is a sought-after subject matter expert in the fields of Emergency and Disaster Management, Safety, Security, Business Continuity, and the Environment of Care.
Bob is now Administrative Director of Safety, Emergency Management, Radiation Safety, Business Continuity, and Hazardous Materials Management Keck Medicine of the University of Southern California.
Contributors:
Dara Weinraub, MSW
Program Director, Care for the Caregiver
Keck Medicine of USC
Kristian Dijamco, BSN, MS-DRL, MSW,
Emotional Support and Wellness Counselor for Keck Medicine of USC
Care for the Caregiver Office
Jonathan Wong, PsyD
Clinical Director for Keck Medicine of USC
Care for the Caregiver Office
Dr. Steve Goldman
Director, Crisis Management Courses
Massachusetts Institute of Technology
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