Value of community found in police career

by Nicholas Duck
"You put on the uniform and you're expected to know everything and to be able to help a person in whatever the situation is. And sometimes you can't. But that's when it's important to find out."
Thirty-one years in the police force taught recently retired local police officer Murray Brown a hell of a lot. More than anything, it taught him the value of a local community.
Murray's retirement comes after being at the heart of such a community, having spent the final eight years of his career as sergeant at Neerim South.
It's been a strange but rewarding journey at times for Murray, who had no intention of ever joining the police.
Having initially worked as a motor mechanic in his family's business, he decided to become a teacher, even lining up a job teaching technology at a secondary school until then-Victorian premier Jeff Kennett's sweeping budget cuts saw him have to rethink things.
Murray went to work in England for a time to build race cars for a company and it was there that he met the foreman's son, who worked as a police officer.
Getting to know him, as well as a neighbour when he returned to Australia who also was in the force, lit a spark of curiosity in Murray until finally his wife at the time put the application form in front of him, simply telling him to sign it.
"I'm still waiting for them to ring up and go 'we made a mistake on your application, sorry.' I never really expected to get in," he says.
"I signed it, and here I am."
His first days were rocky, to say the least. Not long into his academy training Murray broke his back, extending his time in training by, well, a while.
Even once he was on the streets Murray admits he didn't feel ready at all.
"(I was) totally and utterly out of my depth, I had no idea what I was doing. I was a motor mechanic, I didn't know anything about policing ... it was a very steep learning curve."
Murray's first years in the force were spent in Melbourne, walking the beat in the metro areas and learning the ropes.
He considers that word - learning - as a vital part of his police work, even up until his retirement.
"Particularly in the police force, you never stop learning. The moment you think you know everything, you've lost it I think, as a police officer or as an individual. There's always something to learn," he says.
Following a year at Knox, Murray made the trip east, working as a police prosecutor in the Latrobe Valley. During that time he represented Victoria Police in court cases while also doing some work as a coroner's assistant, helping to determine causes of death.
While he enjoyed the experience, he admits he preferred being on the streets, talking to people and engaging them on their level.
What followed was some time back in uniform in the Latrobe Valley, including a stint as sergeant at Morwell.
It was the final eight years of Murray's career, however, that he holds in the highest regard.
After his year in charge at Morwell, his work took him to Neerim South - a community that is a far cry from the urban sprawl of the big city.
For Murray, that suited just fine.
"Up at Neerim South, it's a real country-style of policing. You get to know people, it's really good," he says.
"In a country police station you become involved in the community a lot more so you'll go to a job and you know the family or you've dealt with the person before."
As sergeant in Neerim South, Murray became an entrenched and integral part of the day to day operations of the town and its surroundings.
He recalls one of his early days after transferring there, when a community member barbecuing sausages in the park offered him one. It's the kind of reception you would never get in Melbourne, he says.
Given the distance Murray and his officers were expected to cover - centred on Neerim and as far as Mt Baw Baw and Fumina - collaboration was the key to keeping an eye on things.
Whether it be working with schools to nip issues in the bud or keeping a close relationship with other emergency services in the area, Murray stresses that it is and always has been a joint effort.
"They'd know what our expectations were and we knew what their capabilities and expectations were," he says of the other emergency workers.
"Working together and having that rapport and training together, you're far better at providing whatever services are needed at that time. It's fantastic, it really is. That was really difficult to let go of."
Those connections were especially evident when Murray's final day at the station was punctuated by a group of community members visiting him and taking him to the local pub for one last celebration.
Murray's retirement came after the wear and tear of the job won out. "It takes its toll," are Murray's words, and although they are few, they say a lot as he recalls all the moments of his career he'd rather forget.
These days Murray now has more time for his family, more time to fix up his cars and more time to just be a community member.
Having his weekends back is particulalry nice.
"It's quite easy to be disconnected from your family and friends because you're working long hours. And I worked extra as well, and you're not supposed to but you just become so passionate and involved that you just do," he says.
"You end up caring so much about everybody else that you forget about yourself and your family, and that's dangerous I think."
When asked what the most important thing he learned on the job was, Murray pauses.
"I think it's important to put yourself in the other person's place ... you might go to five or 10 burglaries a day. But it's important to realise that that person who's had the burglary, it's the most devastating thing that may have happened to them in their life."
"It could be a car accident, it could be a death in the family, whatever it is you need to put yourself in that person's place."
Murray says the biggest reason he joined the force - and the reason he initially wanted to become a teacher - was a desire to help people.
Reflecting on his career, he feels that while he hasn't been able to help everyone, he's at least had some positive impact.
"You can't save everybody's life, you can't stop everybody from behaving badly but if you can show some compassion and help a person in that moment then that's really rewarding," he says.
"That's what I'd want. I'd want people to bend over backwards for me in my time of need.
"The biggest thing about being a copper is realising that you are, at that moment in time, having an impact, either positively or negatively, on a person you're dealing with. And you've got to remember that."