Policing, Mental Illness and Media: The Framing of Mental Health Crisis Encounters and Police Use of Force (Palgrave Studies in Crime, Media and Culture) 3030614891, 9783030614898

Citation preview

MIGRATION, PALGRAVE STUDIES IN CRIME, MEDIA AND CULTURE DIASPORAS AND CITIZENSHIP

Policing, Mental Illness and Media The Framing of Mental Health Crisis Encounters and Police Use of Force Katrina Clifford

Palgrave Studies in Crime, Media and Culture

Series Editors Michelle Brown Department of Sociology University of Tennessee Knoxville, TN, USA Eamonn Carrabine Department of Sociology University of Essex Colchester, UK

This series aims to publish high quality interdisciplinary scholarship for research into crime, media and culture. As images of crime, harm and punishment proliferate across new and old media there is a growing recognition that criminology needs to rethink its relations with the ascendant power of spectacle. This international book series aims to break down the often rigid and increasingly hardened boundaries of mainstream criminology, media and communication studies, and cultural studies. In a late modern world where reality TV takes viewers into cop cars and carceral spaces, game shows routinely feature shame and suffering, teenagers post ‘happy slapping’ videos on YouTube, both cyber bullying and ‘justice for’ campaigns are mainstays of social media, and insurrectionist groups compile footage of suicide bomb attacks for circulation on the Internet, it is clear that images of crime and control play a powerful role in shaping social practices. It is vital then that we become versed in the diverse ways that crime and punishment are represented in an era of global interconnectedness, not least since the very reach of global media networks is now unparalleled. Palgrave Studies in Crime, Media and Culture emerges from a call to rethink the manner in which images are reshaping the world and criminology as a project. The mobility, malleability, banality, speed, and scale of images and their distribution demand that we engage both old and new theories and methods and pursue a refinement of concepts and tools, as well as innovative new ones, to tackle questions of crime, harm, culture, and control. Keywords like image, iconography, information flows, the counter-visual, and ‘social’ media, as well as the continuing relevance of the markers, signs, and inscriptions of gender, race, sexuality, and class in cultural contests mark the contours of the crime, media and culture nexus.

More information about this series at http://www.palgrave.com/gp/series/15057

Katrina Clifford

Policing, Mental Illness and Media The Framing of Mental Health Crisis Encounters and Police Use of Force

Katrina Clifford School of Communication and Creative Arts Deakin University Burwood, VIC, Australia

Palgrave Studies in Crime, Media and Culture ISBN 978-3-030-61489-8 ISBN 978-3-030-61490-4 https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-61490-4

(eBook)

© The Editor(s) (if applicable) and The Author(s) 2021 This work is subject to copyright. All rights are solely and exclusively licensed by the Publisher, whether the whole or part of the material is concerned, specifically the rights of translation, reprinting, reuse of illustrations, recitation, broadcasting, reproduction on microfilms or in any other physical way, and transmission or information storage and retrieval, electronic adaptation, computer software, or by similar or dissimilar methodology now known or hereafter developed. The use of general descriptive names, registered names, trademarks, service marks, etc. in this publication does not imply, even in the absence of a specific statement, that such names are exempt from the relevant protective laws and regulations and therefore free for general use. The publisher, the authors and the editors are safe to assume that the advice and information in this book are believed to be true and accurate at the date of publication. Neither the publisher nor the authors or the editors give a warranty, expressed or implied, with respect to the material contained herein or for any errors or omissions that may have been made. The publisher remains neutral with regard to jurisdictional claims in published maps and institutional affiliations. Cover image: Nigel Killeen/Getty This Palgrave Macmillan imprint is published by the registered company Springer Nature Switzerland AG The registered company address is: Gewerbestrasse 11, 6330 Cham, Switzerland

Acknowledgements

Writing a book about traumatic events and the personal impacts on those involved has been both an emotionally and intellectually challenging process. There are many moments of private reflection and struggle, which have shaped the contours of this study without appearing explicitly in the text. The work that forms the basis of this book has evolved and grown over a number of years and has been enriched especially by the individuals who agreed to speak to me, both formally and informally, about their experiences of the relationship between policing and mental illness. Special mention must go to Paul Klein’s parents who demonstrated immense generosity and goodwill during the doctoral research that was a catalyst for this book. They provided me with not only access to their volumes of personal files about Paul’s death, but also an insight into what it means to retain a sense of grace and dignity in the face of unbearable loss and pain brought about by contentious circumstances. Thanks also to the news media practitioners, police officers, mental health consumers, advocates and other relevant professionals who participated in research interviews and focus groups. Your reflections have

v

vi

Acknowledgements

continued to shape and sharpen my thinking on this topic over the many years it has taken me to finalise this book. I am deeply indebted to the staff at the JV Barry Library at the Australian Institute of Criminology (especially the late Janet Smith) and the NSW State Coroner’s Office, who have hosted me on various occasions over the years, providing access to important resources as well as research contacts. This work has also benefited from the support and encouragement of colleagues attending The Warrnambool Collective research retreat, which continues to provide welcome respite from the busyness of academic life and the luxury of space and time to reflect and write. Some sections of the book were also written while on sabbatical at Cardiff University in the United Kingdom, an experience that I still remember fondly thanks to the collegial warmth and good humour of those in the School of Journalism, Media and Culture. My gratitude to the editorial team at Palgrave Macmillan for their enduring patience and understanding throughout the writing of this book, and their commitment to seeing it through to completion. I also acknowledge the wisdom and kindness of friends and ongoing collaborators from the School of Social Sciences at the University of Tasmania, and current colleagues within the School of Communication and Creative Arts at Deakin University, especially those who have been supportive throughout the final stretches of this work and its completion in the midst of the challenging circumstances of a global pandemic. The final acknowledgement is perhaps the most personal and important: my sincere thanks to my mother, Barbara, who has always been a model of resilience and my greatest supporter.

Contents

1

Introduction The More Things Change, the More They Remain the Same The Prevalence of Fatal Mental Health Crisis Interventions in Australia The Costs of Fatal Police Encounters with Mentally Ill Individuals in Crisis Aims and Methodology Research Limitations and Contestable Characterisations The Inherent Challenges of Conducting Research on Sensitive Issues Finally, a Note About the Nature of the Content That Follows… References

2 The Thin Blue Line of Mental Health The Prevalence of Mental Health Problems in the Australian Community

1 6 9 13 18 24 27 31 32 41 46

vii

viii

Contents

Calls for a Joined-Up Response The Criminalisation of Mental Illness in Media and Through Contact with the Law The Complexities of Police-Mental Health Relations in Theory and Practice Conclusion References 3 The Search for Solutions to the Problems of Policing Mental Ill-Health The Technological Solution That Promised to ‘Save Lives and Reduce Injuries’ Body-Worn Cameras, Police Transparency and Accountability Police Training as a Panacea to Lethal Force The Memphis Crisis Intervention Team (CIT) Model and Its Derivatives When the Ideals of CIT Training Collide with the Realities of Police Cultures Conclusion References 4

Making Sense of Fatal Mental Health Crisis Interventions Pinpointing the Predictors of Use of Force During Police Operations Between Perception and Experience: Defining ‘Risk’ in Police Mental Health Contacts The Power of News Media to Shape Public Understandings of Social Problems Normative Patterns of News Framing of Fatal Mental Health Crisis Interventions ‘Shooting to Stop a Threat’ Versus ‘Shooting to Kill’ Calls for Transparency in the Investigation of Critical Incidents The Role of the Coronial Inquest

49 53 64 68 72 87 91 101 111 120 123 126 133 147 150 155 159 163 166 171 173

Contents

5

6

ix

Conclusion References

176 179

Case Study: The Paul Klein Incident The Unfolding of a Tragedy The Probative Value of News Visuals Reader Response to the Visual Framing of the News Story What the Newspapers Told Readers Alongside What They Showed Shifting Attributions of Responsibility and Blame Manufacturing the ‘Out of Control’ Madman and the Politicisation of Klein’s Death Unsettling the ‘Dangerous Other’ News Frame Media Temporality and the Changeability of News Frames Conclusion References

191 193 197 203

Framing Effects and Changing Media Practices Shifting Truth-Claims of News Visuals Across Institutional Domains Legal Scrutiny of Police Duty of Care and Traumatic News Effects A Potential Test Case for News Media Coverage of Crisis and Trauma The ‘Emotional Turn’ in Journalism Studies and Practice Four Corners and the Politics of Police Use of Lethal Force The Marginalisation of Police Mental Health Trauma Narratives Conclusion References

231

208 210 213 217 218 222 224

235 239 242 245 251 255 260 264

x

7

Contents

Conclusion Easily Identified Problems, Harder Found Solutions References

271 276 285

References

289

Index

341

Abbreviations

ABC AIC BWCs CATT CCTV CIT DPP ED FOSTU GD LAC LAPD MHIP MHIT MOU MP NDICP NDIS NSW NYPD

Australian Broadcasting Corporation Australian Institute of Criminology Body-Worn Cameras Crisis Assessment and Treatment Team Closed-Circuit Television Crisis Intervention Team Director of Public Prosecutions Emergency Department Firearms Officer Survival Training Unit General Duties (Police Officers) Local Area Command Los Angeles Police Department Mental Health Intervention Project Mental Health Intervention Team Memorandum of Understanding Member of Parliament National Deaths in Custody Program National Disability Insurance Scheme New South Wales (Australia) New York Police Department

xi

xii

OPI OST PIC QPS SOPs SPG SPSU TOU VR

Abbreviations

Office of Police Integrity Operational Safety Tactics (Training) Police Integrity Commission Queensland Police Service Standard Operating Procedures State Protection Group State Protection Support Unit Tactical Operations Unit Virtual Reality

1 Introduction

On a winter’s night in July 2017 among the bustle of peak-hour commuters, Emmanuel Theoharis was working inside his Eddy Avenue florist shop at the entrance to one of Australia’s busiest railway stations, Central Station in Sydney’s CBD, when he was grabbed from behind and threatened by a man who was holding a broken bottle. Commuters called triple-zero emergency services to report what they thought was an armed robbery with many saying that the man appeared highly agitated, and possibly mentally unwell. A coronial inquest into his death almost two years later would hear that 30-year-old Danukul Mokmool was likely experiencing a psychotic episode at the time of the incident (Inquest into the death of Danukul Mokmool , 2019; Mitchell, 2019a). Four police officers, two in uniform and two in plain clothes, arrived on scene in response to the emergency dispatch. According to the media coverage that followed, three of the officers had completed a one-day police mental health training course, while the fourth had been through the New South Wales (NSW) Police Force’s four-day specialised mental health training program, which seeks to provide officers with the knowledge and skills required to deal with people in the community who © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 K. Clifford, Policing, Mental Illness and Media, Palgrave Studies in Crime, Media and Culture, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-61490-4_1

1

2

K. Clifford

are living with mental illness (Mitchell, 2019b). Reports indicate that the officers had attempted to use oleoresin spray (otherwise known as ‘OC spray’, ‘capsicum spray’ or ‘pepper spray’) on Mokmool before the shooting, but to no avail. Evidence presented to the coronial inquest revealed one officer had radioed through on arrival: “We haven’t got a Taser, we have not got a Taser. We need someone with a Taser now” (Inquest into the death of Danukul Mokmool , 2019, p. 29). Mokmool ignored police requests to drop the scissors he had picked up from a bench inside the shop, telling officers: “Shoot me. Just f***king kill me” (cited in Wells, 2019). It was a depressingly familiar sight. Bystanders filmed what happened next, with some uploading the footage to social media. At least one of the grainy videos was also recirculated via broadcast news media. It shows Mokmool moving towards police before being shot four times. He died at the scene. Newspaper headlines would later describe it as a ‘troubled life’ that had ‘ended in 21 seconds’ (Mitchell, 2019b). Within hours of Mokmool’s death, the NSW Police Force had issued a statement outlining what has now become a common refrain; a “critical incident team from the Homicide Squad” would be investigating “all circumstances surrounding the incident” and all information would be “subject to independent review” before being provided to the Coroner (NSW Police Force, 2017). Anyone who is familiar with cases like these can name a litany of examples where confrontations between police and mentally ill citizens have ended in tragic outcomes, following a frighteningly similar set of circumstances or pattern of events. It has become increasingly difficult not to see each new death as history repeating. Like many before him, Danukul Mokmool had experienced a complex mental health history that included repeated presentations to hospital emergency departments (EDs) in the period leading up to his death. While he had previously held down jobs as a forklift operator and furniture packer, he had ceased employment when his mental health problems and drug addiction had started to overwhelm him (Olding, 2017). During coronial proceedings, a forensic psychologist who reviewed Mokmool’s medical records noted that the last of his hospital visits, some seven months before the fatal shooting, had been a “lost opportunity” for medical intervention

1 Introduction

3

and effective mental health treatment (Eagle cited in Mitchell, 2019b)— something that may have prevented the tragic end to his life. Research data reveal the pressures on Australia’s already-overstretched EDs “where 50 per cent of up to 30 patients waiting for a psychiatric assessment should be admitted to the psychiatric units that are full to capacity” (Aubusson, 2019). For nearly one-third of acute mental health patients, it is not unusual to have to wait eight hours or more for a bed, even after being assessed as sick enough for hospital care (ACEM, 2018). The rather eerie postscript to this tragic event is that the fatal shooting of Danukul Mokmool occurred almost exactly 20 years to the day after what is arguably one of Australia’s most widely known fatal mental health crisis interventions: the police shooting of Frenchman Roni Levi on Sydney’s Bondi Beach on 28 June 1997. Parallels were immediately drawn between the circumstances of the two men’s deaths, with commentators questioning how it could be that fatal police-involved shootings of mentally ill individuals in crisis were still happening two decades after the lessons borne by the Roni Levi incident. Statements from the officers central to the event, Senior Constable Anthony Dilorenzo and Constable Rodney Podesta, claimed that Levi had been killed after lunging at them with a knife. At the time, he was suffering borderline delusional thought processes and had earlier disappeared from St. Vincent’s Hospital where he had voluntarily admitted himself the night before. He had returned to his Bondi apartment in the early hours of the morning to collect a kitchen knife, and headed down to the beach. When he emerged from the water, he was surrounded by police officers, several with guns drawn, calling for him to drop the weapon. The Roni Levi incident was a watershed in the history of Australian policing and its role in managing mental health crises in the community, but not necessarily for the reasons one might expect. It was not as though this was the first time that police had used lethal force on a mentally ill person in distress. Levi was in fact the third person to be fatally shot by police in NSW in that year alone, with at least one other case before his involving a person with mental health problems. But neither of these critical incidents had attracted the same degree of media interest. Nor did they spark the same level of public and political debate about lesslethal alternatives to police firearms. They also did not become lasting,

4

K. Clifford

potent symbols for change in the same way as the fatal police-involved shooting of Roni Levi. As anyone who reads, watches or listens to the news knows, stories about law enforcement are a prominent and persistent feature of daily news reporting. Those that involve the police use of force have particular news value and resonance—more so when there are visuals to accompany the story and the death involves a vulnerable person. But not all events of this type will necessarily make it into the news. Among the multitude of law enforcement-citizen encounters that occur across the globe on any given day, only a selection of these interactions will appear in news headlines (Clifford & White, 2017). The same is true for fatal mental health crisis interventions, which are by no means equal in the news coverage they receive. An open-date search of the online database Factiva for stories from Australian news outlets reveals less than 30 newspaper or online articles were published nationally about Danukul Mokmool’s death, some syndicated, compared to the 400-plus related to the fatal police-involved shooting of Roni Levi. A search of the names of other mentally distressed individuals who have been shot and killed by police in Australia reveals even more disparate results, with some cases attracting the briefest of mentions and others none at all. From a media perspective, one of the reasons the Roni Levi incident stood out for inclusion—besides the very public and controversial nature of the event and its occurrence against an iconic Australian backdrop— was because of its striking visual record, which depicted frame-by-frame the beach standoff between Levi and police, ensuring the incident received high-profile news coverage and became widely known and wellremembered. “As they circulate”, writes Rudd (2019), “images like these become iconic in a double sense: They both visually represent the event in the minds of spectators, and they come to analogize it, standing in for the broader crisis”. Levi’s death made visible the risks inherent to mental health crisis interventions in community-based settings and the vulnerabilities of those individuals who encounter police while in psychiatric distress. His death put a face to the problem, and anxieties about police use of force in the media spotlight and on the public agenda. As journalist Kate Wild (2018) writes: “Mental illness entered Australia’s collective consciousness the day Roni Levi was shot on Bondi Beach by

1 Introduction

5

two uniformed police officers” (p. 25). So too, his killing demonstrated how it often only requires one or two of a number of responding officers “to make the wrong judgment for a shooting to occur” (Pollack & Humphreys, 2020, p. 175). The now well-recognised images of the Roni Levi incident, fortuitously captured by professional photographer Jean Pierre BratanoffFirgoff who happened to be on the beach that winter’s morning, were published in most major Australian newspapers and disseminated to a global audience via international news outlets within 24 hours of the critical incident—a not inconsequential occurrence in an era without Facebook, Twitter or Instagram, and before the ubiquity of camera-enabled smartphones. At the time, News Limited, one of Australia’s largest media conglomerates, reportedly paid A$1000 for the photographs (Este, 2000)—a tidy sum by today’s standards for what were essentially the images of a person’s death, demonstrating one version of what it means to ‘pay for the news’. In 2010, the photographs featured in the ONE Hundred exhibition, a centrepiece of centenary celebrations for the State Library of NSW. The exhibition showcased 100 handpicked items from the library’s holdings, selected on the basis of the ‘remarkable story’ each told about an aspect of Australian life. Bratanoff-Firgoff ’s images had previously been purchased by the library in 2007. The photographic series also served as crucial documentary evidence in the aftermath of the fatal shooting itself, contradicting police allegations that Levi had posed a threat to police officers and had lunged at them prior to being shot—claims that witnesses to the shooting had also contested (see Papadopoulos, 1997). Senior reporter Luke Slattery (1998) summed up the thoughts of many in a piece for The Weekend Australian, observing that Levi’s “demeanour at the beach before he noticed the police suggests the knife was meant for one person only – himself ” (p. 3). The fatal police-involved shooting of Roni Levi gained further notoriety and media attention when the Coroner presiding over the inquest into Levi’s death terminated the highly publicised proceedings four weeks in on 6 March 1998, referring the matter to the Director of Public Prosecutions (DPP) for consideration after finding there was a prima facie case for Podesta and Dilorenzo to answer in relation to the shooting.

6

K. Clifford

Within a matter of months, the DPP determined there was no reasonable prospect of a conviction against either of the officers and no charges were brought in relation to Levi’s death (Chappell, 2008; Police Integrity Commission, 2001). However, the decision did NSW police few favours with subsequent allegations emerging that either one or both of the officers responsible for the fatal discharge of firearms had been affected by drugs and/or alcohol at the time of the shooting (see Goodsir, 2001; Police Integrity Commission, 2001). Neither Podesta nor Dilorenzo had been tested after the incident, even though both had been under investigation by Internal Affairs in relation to drug-related allegations in the months leading up to the shooting (Police Integrity Commission, 2001). Levi’s death would later go on to serve as a catalyst for the introduction of random drug testing of police officers in NSW (see Police Integrity Commission, 2001). By mid-1999, Podesta and Dilorenzo had both left the police force, but memories of the Roni Levi incident—fuelled by the remarkable nature of Bratanoff-Firgoff ’s photographs and the negative associations for policing that emerged in the aftermath of the shooting—have had long-lasting significance in terms of public debates and political and news discourse about the role of police in managing mental health crisis incidents in the community. This continues to be the case in the current climate especially, where police violence and the question of what constitutes the reasonable, legitimate and justifiable use of force—as well as the merits of alternative and preventative tactics to firearm use—have become the topics de rigueur in debates about contemporary policing practice worldwide, particularly where marginalised communities and vulnerable individuals are concerned.

The More Things Change, the More They Remain the Same In Australian jurisdictions, police are given “wide-ranging power to intervene in the lives of the mentally ill and mentally disordered by virtue of the respective Mental Health Acts” (Police Federation of Australia,

1 Introduction

7

2005, p. 4). Under this legislation, police powers generally extend to the apprehension and conveyance or assistance with conveyance of persons: • Believed to be mentally ill or mentally disordered, particularly where an interagency request has been made by an ambulance officer, medical practitioner or other authorised person, due to serious concerns for safety or where there is evidence to suggest that the individual may cause physical harm to themselves and/or to others; • Detained pursuant to the respective Mental Health Act and who are unlawfully at large (be it that a criminal offence has been committed or the person has absented themselves from a mental health facility); • Under a Community Treatment Order (or equivalent) who have refused or failed to comply with the order; and/or • Whose welfare may benefit directly from the individual being more appropriately dealt with in accordance with the Mental Health Act (e.g. by admission to hospital) than otherwise by law. The law allows police to use reasonable force where necessary in order to carry out these first responder duties, although it dictates that the use of force “should only be used where de-escalation or negotiation have not been successful, or where circumstances do not allow any reasonable opportunity to attempt these techniques” (NSW Police Force, 2016, p. 31). In instances where this power has been misdirected or misused during a mental health crisis intervention (proven or perceived), the implications for public confidence in policing can be both serious and detrimental. This is particularly the case when the force appears to have been applied disproportionately to the perceived threat, differentially, or in instances where lesser interventions would have sufficed (IPCC, 2016). Despite the authority and legitimacy that police protocols and the mental health legislative framework affords them, police officers frequently find themselves caught in a “complex web” of decision-making (Jones & Mason, 2002, p. 75), which includes the need to balance public safety with the welfare and well-being of the individual in psychiatric distress. As Sir Mark Hedley, retired High Court judge and vice-chair of the 2018 Mental Health Act Review in the United Kingdom, points out: “No Mental Health Act ever helped anyone who was ill—skilled care

8

K. Clifford

and support did that. The law sets the culture within which that care is given” (cited in Brown, 2018). In other words, the decision on how to respond to a mentally ill person in crisis out in the field is a discretionary one. While it is accepted that some frontline officers “use force unjustly”, McElvain and Kposowa (2008) claim that “this appears to be the exception rather than the rule” (p. 506). On the whole, the majority of police officers “do a difficult and stressful job in a professional and humane manner” (Chappell, 2008, p. 39). But in the wake of Danukul Mokmool’s death and another two fatal shootings by NSW police in the six weeks after the Central Station incident (one involving another mentally ill man), Australian news media and politicians began asking what had changed in the two decades since the tragic shooting of Roni Levi by uniformed police officers on Bondi Beach. As Greens Member of Parliament (MP), David Shoebridge (2018), observed at the time: “Over the last 20 years we’ve seen repeated police encounters with people struggling with mental illness that too often end in fatal shootings. Again and again the coroner has recommended better training for police and more rigorous compliance with mental health protocols, yet little seems to have changed”. Shoebridge has a point. Despite advances in the introduction of mental health education programs for frontline police, calls for improved training of this type continue to be a recurrent and predictable feature of coronial findings into fatal mental health crisis interventions in Australia, as well as the news stories that shine a light on such events. While the times and (police and media) technologies, along with social attitudes towards mental illness, may have substantially evolved in the intervening decades between Levi and Mokmool’s deaths, the frequency of fatal confrontations between police and mentally ill individuals in crisis has not. Statistics show that although the average number of individuals fatally shot by Australian police in any given year has more recently declined slightly, the proportion of mentally ill individuals that make up these fatalities remains unchanged (Lyneham & Chan, 2013). But if news media reports and the chatter on social networking sites are anything to go by, one could be forgiven for thinking the prevalence of these incidents has only increased . This is thanks to a confluence of several factors, not least among them is the selective nature of news

1 Introduction

9

reporting. By making these portrayals of police mental health encounters more prominent and salient, their actual occurrence is exaggerated. Such impressions can also be attributed to the increasingly privileged status of the visual in the contemporary mediascape and the amplification of the visibility (literally) of controversial police encounters with vulnerable individuals which, when they do occur, often do so in public spaces under the glare of surveillance technologies and mobile media. While pictures and footage have always harboured their own news appeal, as a former crime reporter told me, they are now more significantly the drivers of news with closed-circuit television (CCTV) footage enough to turn a story from something that would never be covered into one that leads a news bulletin. Despite the energies and resources police may direct towards effectively resolving mental health crisis situations in this environment, on the infrequent occasions that these interactions do turn deadly, police-involved mental health crisis interventions are the first to dominate news headlines and to go viral on social media. While media maintain a central role in sustaining police legitimacy—that is, the extent to which the public regards police as having a moral right to exercise authority—they also, at the same time, have the power to destroy it.

The Prevalence of Fatal Mental Health Crisis Interventions in Australia For every fatal incident of this kind, there are any number of mental health crises in the community involving the possibility of a similar outcome that are successfully de-escalated and resolved without the need for police use of force (Office of the Public Advocate—Queensland, 2005). Much of what occupies police agencies is, after all, the preservation of public health and safety (van Dijk & Crofts, 2017). However, it is rare for such incidents to be as regularly or extensively reported in news media. When they do appear, the column inches, broadcast time and digital real estate apportioned to such news stories is negligible in comparison with those of fatal crisis encounters between police and mentally ill individuals. The circumstances related to these incidents also often need to be exceptional to warrant being reported (e.g. the

10

K. Clifford

person has to have armed themselves with a weapon of some sort). At the same time, police continue to work against the backdrop of a fractured mental health system where early intervention strategies and the care and treatment of individuals experiencing mental ill-health appear to have worsened, leaving police with few choices but to fill the gaps by becoming what Teplin and Pruett (1992) call ‘streetcorner psychiatrists’. Sharp cuts to public and mental health budgets over recent decades have brought into focus the incredible amount of non-crime related activity for which police are now the first responders. “You put those two things together”, says Shoebridge, and “you have a very potent, tragic, often-fatal mix” (cited in Wild, Miskelly, & Wakatama, 2018). These situations, when they do turn deadly, are variously described in official circles and the scholarship on policing as ‘critical incidents’, ‘sentinel events’ or ‘fatal mental health crisis interventions’, albeit more commonly within news media and public debates as an example of ‘police brutality’ or as ‘a police killing’. Even though police, as society’s ‘guardians of public safety’, are expected to be the frontline responders to mental health crisis incidents, few questions have been asked about the threat to public safety that is caused by the inadequate care of individuals with mental illness. Of course, the blame cannot be placed on insufficient funding and administration of the mental health system alone. The path a person takes to mental ill-health is frequently informed by numerous other social factors, such as education, housing, legal crises, unemployment and relationship breakdown—all of which require a broader social and systemic response. But the statistics relating to fatal police-involved mental health crisis interventions must be read with some caution, especially in light of the misgivings about their completeness and utility. These are concerns well-documented and discussed in some detail later in this opening chapter. A snapshot of the figures that are available makes for troubling reading nonetheless. Since Roni Levi’s death on Bondi Beach, Australian police have on average shot and killed around two mentally ill people each year (µ = 2). The greatest number of shooting deaths in police custody or during police operations has historically occurred in Australia’s three largest jurisdictions—NSW, Queensland and Victoria (Doherty & Bricknell, 2020). In the state of NSW alone, 35 people were

1 Introduction

11

shot and killed by police in the period between 1997 and 2017 (Open Government NSW, 2018). More than half of those individuals (n = 19) had a known history of mental illness. Another four had suspected mental health problems at the time of the shooting. Research shows that, nationally, mental illness has been a precipitating factor in shooting deaths in police custody or during police operations in 37–42 per cent of cases (Doherty & Bricknell, 2020). The overwhelming majority of these fatalities have been non-Indigenous men, with the exception of a handful of recorded cases where women have been the victims of a fatal discharge of police firearms (see Gannoni & Bricknell, 2019; Lyneham & Chan, 2013). (This does not diminish the fact that fatal mental health crisis interventions can be complicated by matters of race (see, for example, Hartley, 2020) or that Indigenous deaths in police custody continue to be a problem in Australia more broadly.) In an estimated 85 per cent of relevant cases, the individual killed was in possession of a weapon at the time of the shooting, most commonly a firearm, knife, axe or crossbow (Australian Institute of Criminology, 2013). Many had also used alcohol and/or drugs shortly before their deaths (Doherty & Bricknell, 2020). Overall, 60 per cent of individuals who have died as a result of a policeinvolved shooting, and who were in possession of a weapon at the time, also had either a diagnosed or undiagnosed mental health problem. In the majority of cases, the police-involved shooting was deemed justifiable at coronial inquest with the mentally ill person deemed to have “posed a significant threat to the lives of the police officers involved or to other individuals” (Doherty & Bricknell, 2020, p. 8). Any one fatal mental health crisis intervention is a death too many in the light of the possibilities for prevention (Clifford, 2010a; Herrington & Clifford, 2012). But to put these deaths in some context—especially in the light of the salience they are afforded in media reports—it is important to consider the total number of everyday contacts Australian police officers have with members of the public, including those experiencing mental health problems of some sort (acknowledging the full spectrum of mental illnesses people can experience). National averages estimate that Australian police respond to around 148,000 mental health-related incidents each year (Australian Institute of Criminology, 2012). These contacts see police encounter (and often re-encounter)

12

K. Clifford

mentally ill people in all manner of situations; as offenders, individuals behaving in a disorderly manner, missing persons, complainants, victims and, overwhelmingly, as people in need of comfort and care (Cordner, 2006). Police contacts with people in the midst of a mental health crisis are among the most challenging and complex of these law enforcement encounters. As the statistics show, the vast majority of these interactions are resolved safely and without incident (Clifford, 2010a, 2012). However, in a small number of cases, levels of hostility may be present which serve to heighten the resistance of a mentally ill individual towards attempts at negotiation, creating a situation that is past the point of de-escalation and in need of police intervention including, potentially, the police use of force (Coleman & Cotton, 2010; Kerr, Morabito, & Watson, 2010). In these circumstances: The person with a mental illness will most likely be highly distressed and fearful of their own safety, may be experiencing paranoia or delusions involving police, and may have a history of contact with law enforcement. Combined with this is the response of the police officer—an officer who may have received only cursory mental health training, who may be fearful for their own safety and that of others on the scene, and who is acutely aware of the potential for violence that exists in dealing with situations of behavioural disturbance. (Office of the Public Advocate—Queensland, 2005, p. 1)

Figures indicate that, in the United States, people with untreated mental illness are at least 16 times more likely to be killed than other civilians who are approached or stopped by police officers, whilst worldwide, mental illness is a factor in as many as 1 in 2 fatal law enforcement encounters (Fuller, Lamb, Biasotti, & Snook, 2015). Where a Taser is used against a mentally ill person, it is significantly more likely to be used multiple times (IPCC, 2016).

1 Introduction

13

The Costs of Fatal Police Encounters with Mentally Ill Individuals in Crisis There are numerous reasons why police have ended up as first responders to mental health crises in the community. These are detailed in later chapters, but to summarise here, some are historical—to do with deinstitutionalisation and the increasingly professionalised and managerialist nature of contemporary policing—while others are far more pragmatic. An inadequate mental health system “combined with the stigma associated with mental illness” can “make people reluctant or unable to take advantage of existing services” (Coleman & Cotton, 2016). It is therefore often easier to have a person taken to hospital or involuntarily committed for mental health treatment when police are involved. As Brown (2020) observes, “[t]he need for police to ‘do something’ is a frequent aspect of demand officers face”. More worrisome is the fact that many people feel compelled to call for police assistance in the first instance because they see mentally ill individuals in crisis as potentially “so dangerous that only police are equipped for the job of getting them under control” (Roth, 2018, p. 235). The involvement of law enforcement can serve to perpetuate this notion by criminalising mental illness, as can the tactical training police receive, given its emphasis on worst-case scenarios and the implication that police encounters with publics are inherently threat-laden and therefore adversarial by nature. “In practice”, writes Roth (2018), “that means teaching officers to be intimidating, to gain control of a situation completely and quickly” (p. 236)—although, in more enlightened police agencies, there is an increasing emphasis on communication and de-escalation over confrontation, especially when it comes to dealing with mentally unwell and distressed members of the public. There are certainly undesirable ramifications associated with the former. As McDaniel (2019) points out, “the perceived need to resolve situations quickly and authoritatively” can impinge upon a police officer’s ability to “think objectively and act with a reasonable degree of impartiality, particularly in dangerous situations” (p. 84). The rush to resolve a situation in combination with a confrontational approach from police—or at least one that presumes rationality on the part of a mentally ill

14

K. Clifford

individual—can compound the already-distressing effects of the illness, making it harder for paranoid individuals or those in the midst of a psychotic episode to comply with police directives (Roth, 2018). From a police perspective, when this occurs, the unpredictability and risk levels of the situation are heightened (Wild, 2018). This often produces the opposite of the intended response to a mental health crisis. So too, it assumes that the responsibility for ‘managing’ mental illness in the community lies primarily (and often solely) with frontline police officers, as does the blame or culpability when mentally ill individuals are failed by police during crisis response (by not protecting these individuals from the consequences of their own actions and those of the police). Further action by police and policy-makers is most frequently advanced as ‘remedies’ to the situation (Doherty & Bricknell, 2020; Paterson, 2006). Despite reforms in both of these areas, mentally ill individuals in crisis continue to be over-represented among police use of lethal force cases worldwide; shootings especially. The costs of these fatal mental health crisis interventions—individually, institutionally and on a societal level—are substantial. As Pollack and Humphreys (2020) note, there are “lifelong consequences that turn on whether police handle such incidents well or poorly” (p. 168). Apart from the psychological distress that fatal mental health crisis interventions can cause for those involved, strong negative community sentiment towards such adverse incidents can threaten the credibility and legitimacy of police. This can be to the potential detriment of the public’s willingness to cooperate and collaborate with them (Myhill & Beak, 2008; Novak, 2009). Evidence shows that “vicarious experiences of policing” can “have a substantial impact on perceptions of and confidence in police” (Herrington, Clifford, Lawrence, Ryle, & Pope, 2009, p. 35)—just as lived experiences of policing can too. This can also have a bearing on the tenor of future interactions between police officers and mentally ill individuals in crisis. Many people experiencing mental ill-health will “have had negative interactions with police in the past. All carry that risk in the future” (Pollack & Humphreys, 2020, p. 179). Some may even “contribute to the risk of fatal incidents in the first place” (O’Brien, Meares, & Tyler, 2020, p. 203). How people are treated, “whether they are allowed to communicate their perspectives to

1 Introduction

15

police and receive respectful treatment”—what is otherwise known as a procedurally just response—will factor into “their judgements of police fairness and trustworthiness” (Graziano & Gauthier, 2018, p. 594). But even for people who have had little direct contact with police, the impression that there are “repeated and frequent incidents of violence between police and community members can fuel perceptions of illegitimacy, leading to a spiraling cycle of declining legitimacy”, police authority and trust (O’Brien et al., 2020, p. 204). This is potentially exacerbated by the ‘echo chamber’ effect of mainstream media, which suggests individuals tend to seek out and self-select news stories that reinforce or amplify their prevailing worldviews, meaning it is possible that people with a negative predisposition towards police will be disproportionately drawn to news stories that portray police in a negative light, regardless of interventions to the contrary. To contain and counter negative media representations, police agencies have engaged in what Mawby (2002) calls ‘image work’—that is, professionalised public relations activities designed to manage the mediated visibility of police and promote and protect their organisational legitimacy. Although police agencies have been engaged in these activities for some time now, their efforts have taken on greater significance and impetus in the changing landscape of the contemporary media environment, as evidenced by the introduction of dedicated information officers and police media units. Reports suggest that the Metropolitan Police, for example, with one of the largest operations of police forces in the United Kingdom, employs more than 100 communications staff with an annual operating budget of £10 million (Turvill, 2015). Responsible for the conventional tasks of responding to media inquiries and informing the public about crime-related incidents (setting the crime news agenda), the remit of these police media units has expanded to include the delivery of media training to operational police, the development of policy guidelines around media contact and the management of in-house multimedia units, which produce audiovisual content for distribution to traditional media outlets and online news sites. As Lee and McGovern (2014) observe: “When these arrangements go as planned… the opportunities for the police to disseminate positive public images are evident” (p. 145).

16

K. Clifford

But police are not the only ones whose reputations can require management as a result of the increasingly mediated visibility of policing and news media’s coverage of controversial police use of force incidents. There is also something particularly unsettling for families caught up in a fatal mental health crisis intervention, whose decedents become known publicly through the images capturing their contact with police. These news visuals, depicting individuals in the midst of their most vulnerable moments—often during a psychosis and while armed with a weapon— will not always portray a person with mental illness in a favourable light. In the event-driven style of news reporting, they can serve to perpetuate the stereotypical view of mentally ill people as dangerous and unreasonable, as out of control individuals, who have without warning “gone beserk” (Slattery, 1998). In February 2015, 22-year-old Courtney Topic was shot and killed by police at a busy intersection at Hoxton Park in western Sydney while experiencing the symptoms of a psychotic episode resulting from undiagnosed schizophrenia. At the time, she was holding a large knife and seemed unable to respond to police commands to put the weapon down. She was pepper sprayed and shot less than a minute after police had arrived on scene. Footage of the critical incident was recorded by police Taser and released during the coronial inquest into Topic’s death. It circulated widely within the mainstream press, along with a still from a second video filmed by a witness to the fatal shooting. As Topic’s brother, Kris, was reported as saying after her death: “That infamous photo of Courtney holding the knife, the one that went right across the world, that made her look like a zombie, that wasn’t Courtney…To be remembered like that is awful” (cited in Callaghan & Gorrey, 2018). Tragically, Charlie Huynh also revealed to reporters that he had watched the Central Station police shooting video after a friend had sent it to him, not realising at that point in time that the person depicted in the video was actually his half-brother, Danukul Mokmool (Olding, 2017). These examples serve as timely reminders of the inherent nature of news visuals, which tends to objectify and “turn an event or a person into something that can be possessed” (Sontag, 2003, p. 72). For people with mental illness who are killed by police, the appropriation and widespread circulation of such images in mainstream news media, and on social

1 Introduction

17

media, means that these individuals are very often publicly remembered by the controversial, graphic and traumatic details of their death as opposed to the life they lived. In Topic’s case, the image obscured the fact that, prior to her death, Courtney had been known as “a gentlenatured young woman who had never displayed aggressive or antisocial behaviour” (Ryan cited in Inquest into the death of Courtney Topic, 2018, p. 5). So too, Danukul Mokmool and Roni Levi were both memorialised as ‘gentle and loving’ individuals during the coronial inquests into their respective deaths. Cases such as those of Roni Levi, Courtney Topic and Danukul Mokmool—plus the other individuals with mental illness killed by police in the intervening periods between their deaths—raise a series of important, albeit thorny questions about the role of today’s “variety of ‘journalisms’” and messaging platforms (Ireton & Posetti, 2018, p. 16) in sensitively and accurately representing controversial and public deaths. This is in addition to the ways in which accountability and meaningmaking are constructed in the aftermath of such events, especially when it comes to the police use of lethal force, as well as the broader complexities of the relationship between policing and mental illness in society. They highlight a number of concerns about the ways in which police use of force is typically framed in mainstream media and the implications of this for people with mental illness as well as police agencies in terms of how they approach their interactions with vulnerable individuals in the community while being in the media spotlight. As Haggerty and Sandhu (2014) point out, the battle over policing’s increasingly mediated visibility is not a battle fought over the control of the images themselves, but rather “in the realm of meaning and interpretation” (p. 11)—i.e. the framing of these images and their narratives, and the shaping of public understandings of what they are supposed to see and think and feel in response, and the social and political change that should follow. This is not a new battle. It is the same battle that has been fought since long before the introduction of social networking platforms. It is also one in which traditional news media still arguably play a major role. As Beckett and Deuze (2016) point out: “Journalism as a profession and as a news industry has always been part and parcel of technological change… Technology is as much the source of journalism

18

K. Clifford

as it is a force acting upon it” (p. 2). It is the speed, amplification of reach and impact and the ‘connective action’ (Bennett & Segerberg, 2013) that these new technologies and social media platforms facilitate that presents an additional challenge for police agencies and their ‘image work’. In this networked ecology, as Beckett (2019) refers to it, neither news organisations nor police agencies have the same agenda-setting power they once did, although many of the same traditions of storytelling persist, permitting meaning-making of events and experiences unknown to us by evoking emotional responses and asking us as audiences to ‘bear witness’ to these crises. As Papacharissi (2014) explains: “Technologies network us but it is narratives that connect us to each other” (p. 4). In this respect, the annual number of police shootings and the proportion of these critical incidents that involve mentally ill individuals as fatalities— in spite of their discrepancies—are limited in their usefulness, since the statistics do not yield an informed sense or understanding of the relative dangers of police mental health contacts or the risks perceived by the individuals involved in them or by others after the fact. That is, they lack the “tangible context of street encounters” by failing to account for the actual experiences behind the numbers (Watson, Corrigan, & Ottati, 2004, p. 52).

Aims and Methodology To develop a more fulsome appreciation of these experiences and the breadth and depth of their complexities, sensitivities and tensions, Policing, Mental Illness and Media examines the struggles over meaningmaking that define threshold news events involving the deaths of mentally ill individuals in crisis while in police custody or as part of police operations. It explores the value, as well as the complications, that narratives of lived experience—or what Wynne (1996) calls ‘situated knowledge’—can bring to official definitions and mediated interpretations of ‘risk’, ‘vulnerability’, ‘accountability’ and ‘legitimacy’ in the context of fatal mental health crisis interventions. This includes the perspectives of frontline police officers, bereaved family members, mental health consumers and advocates, and news media professionals themselves. Put simply, its objective is to shed some light on these “dramatic

1 Introduction

19

news events as centrepieces of struggles among competing perspectives on reality” in an attempt to “better understand how news events shape the problems we pay attention to as a society” and the ways we are encouraged to think about those problems (Lawrence, 2000, p. xi). The book asks what conditions enable the discursive and interpretive conflicts that commonly occur in the aftermath of a fatal police-involved mental health crisis intervention. Why do some events become major news stories over others and how do these events shape public discourse and opinion about particular issues and subjectivities? Who is allowed to speak in the news and what perspectives can be found there? How do their interpretations inform future interactions between police and people with mental health problems as well as policing and mental health reforms more broadly? What are the potential impacts on public understandings of mental illness (and policy-making) and the complexities inherent to volatile encounters between police and mentally ill members of society? To what extent are police as vulnerable to media (mis)representation as mentally ill individuals have historically been, and how does this measure up against public perceptions and expectations of frontline police officers as the ‘protectors of society’? What other conversations could (and should) we be having about the relationship between policing and mental ill-health? How can journalism about mental health crisis interventions inform public understandings of the factors that influence and shape the nature of these critical incidents and the police use of lethal force? Events of this kind serve these lines of inquiry well because fatal mental health crisis interventions are typically “fraught with ambiguity, clashing perspectives, high emotions, and deeply divided perceptions of the world” as well as conflicts between lay and institutional discourse (Lawrence, 2000, p. xii). But as Crossley (2004) reminds us, we must bear in mind that “these forms of symbolic politics cannot be divorced from the broader collective and institutional contexts in which they operate” (p. 178). Nor should the most salient aspect of news construction be limited to the issue of (mis)representation without regard for the newsworthy events—the triggers—that serve as an impetus for the news production process in the first place or the “wide range of repercussions” that may need to be managed after publication or broadcast of the news

20

K. Clifford

story (Palmer, 2018, p. 196). These are after all events that have a long, and mostly problematic, history. With this in mind, Policing, Mental Illness and Media adopts an historical approach to examining the nexus between policing, mental ill-health in society and journalistic practice, focusing on a series of fatal mental health crisis interventions in Australia spanning the two decades between Roni Levi’s death in 1997 and Danukul Mokmool’s in 2017. Several of the more high-profile of these cases are explicitly referred to by way of example throughout the book. Some readers will have already discerned a propensity within this opening chapter towards critical discussion of fatal mental health crisis interventions in NSW—the most populous of Australia’s eight states and territories, covering a land area of approximately 800,600 square kilometres, roughly equivalent to the size of Texas (see Donohue & Andrews, 2013; Geoscience Australia, n.d.). This is a predisposition that continues throughout, influenced in part by my own ethnographic experiences as a research assistant on Charles Sturt University’s independent evaluation of the NSW Police Force Mental Health Intervention Team (MHIT) in 2008–2009 and, as a consequence, my greater familiarity with the relationship between policing and mental illness in this state. But this approach is also underlain by the fact that, between 2006–2007 and 2016–2017, police-involved fatal shootings as a proportion of all deaths in police custody were highest in NSW compared to all other Australian jurisdictions (Doherty & Bricknell, 2020). Central to Policing, Mental Illness and Media is a detailed news framing analysis of one specific historical case study from policing within this Australian state: the Paul Klein incident. The in-depth analysis of the media coverage of the fatal police-involved shooting of Paul Klein features centrally within this study because of what it reveals about journalism’s capacity and potential to ‘bear witness’ to critical incidents of this kind. This is at the same time as it serves as a cautionary tale about the possible harms and deleterious effects of framing decisions made in the newsroom when these are motivated primarily by provocative intentions and the old adage, ‘if it bleeds, it leads’. I was provided the privilege as part of my doctoral research to speak to Paul Klein’s immediate family as well as several of the police officers and news media professionals

1 Introduction

21

involved in the incident—all of whom had been deeply affected by it. Their insights taught me a great deal about the complicated nature of the relationship between policing, mental illness and media, the importance of narratives of lived experience in arriving at a fuller understanding of such sensitive issues, and the fact that events of this kind leave few involved unscathed in their own private ways. The same conclusions were drawn from my brief encounters with others who declined to be interviewed for the study—not because they did not want to contribute but because, as they explained to me, they thought it would be too traumatic for them to do so. This was sometimes the case even where significant time had elapsed since the critical incident. Further to this, alongside the shooting of Roni Levi on Bondi Beach, the Paul Klein incident remains one of the few fatal mental health crisis interventions in Australia whose newsworthiness has been elevated over the past two decades as a consequence of its graphic visual record—captured in this instance by news media professionals. In combination with the other Australian and international cases selected for analysis and discussion within the book, the Paul Klein incident serves as a timely reminder about the educative function that professional journalism could serve but more often, sadly, does not when it comes to the reporting of fatal mental health crisis interventions in society. It is worth noting that Policing, Mental Illness and Media has been a long time in the making. I first engaged with this field of study almost 20 years ago and have returned to it on a number of occasions throughout the intervening period. Throughout the book, I have drawn on the research interviews, fieldwork, observations and analysis conducted over this period of time to enrich the book’s interrogation of the relationship between frontline policing, mental illness and mediated representation. Coronial briefs of evidence, transcripts and findings, where publicly available or made accessible on request, have been used to determine contextual factors associated with many of the tragedies central to this study, as have the reports published from formal police integrity investigations. These documents, in particular, demonstrate just how complex these critical incidents can be compared to the version we are exposed to when they appear in the news. Policing, Mental Illness and Media synthesises this analysis with the perspectives and

22

K. Clifford

voices of individuals directly involved in and impacted by these traumatic events. It positions this situated knowledge alongside framing analyses of news narratives and other primary and secondary data to highlight the conflicts that can occur in the interpretive frameworks related to police use of lethal force during mental health crisis interventions and the normative structures, processes and practices that inform and shape the realities and complexities of these events into media texts and public knowledge. In this respect, my interest has always been about the mediated proximities and distances associated with ‘bearing witness’ to these tragic events, as well as the visibilities and silences found in news media. What happens when the interpretive frames constructed by police and bereaved family members do not align—as they seldom do? What opportunities are there, if any, for developing more satisfactory and sustainable communications between these stakeholders in the aftermath of these tragic events, and for rebuilding trust between these individuals, their communities (in the broadest sense of the term) and frontline police? Policing, Mental Illness and Media looks at both sides of the divide, exploring who gets to contribute to mediated conversations about police-involved mental health crisis interventions, and the potential implications of the meaning-making that emerges from this process. Never more than now has it been important to question what role institutional actors such as police and media should, and do, play in our society as well as in our responses to shared social concerns, such as the care and treatment of mentally ill citizens in community settings. Framing as a concept and method of practice and analysis allows us to elaborate on these social processes and structural conditions by shining a light on how “some facets of events or issues” are selected and highlighted, “making connections among them so as to promote a particular interpretation, evaluation and/or solution” regarding social problems (Entman, 2004, p. 5; see also Gamson & Modigliani, 1989). In the context of news production, framing analysis recognises that “journalists contextualise and shape news content within some familiar frame of reference and according to some latent structure of meaning” (Rossall, 2011, p. 99). This is manifested within news texts by virtue of the journalist’s selection of sources of information, the inclusion and exclusion

1 Introduction

23

of keywords and phrases, and the connotations and subjectivities (sometimes stereotypical) that they produce (Entman, 1993). A single news event can therefore be “framed in various ways depending on the sources a journalist relies on, and whether the journalist chooses to highlight or exclude the various elements of the information they provide” (Rossall, 2011, p. 99). While framing choices do not solely determine audience interpretations or their responses to such tragic incidents, Pirkis and colleagues (2002) note that “they can have a potentially powerful impact on them” and can “limit the information available to audiences who are trying to make sense of an event they cannot experience” (p. 169; see also Neuman, Just, & Crigler, 1992). Likewise, these framing practices can also have framing effects on those with lived experience, at times prompting the construction of counter-frames and narratives by these individuals that contest the dominant mediated representations of law enforcement-related issues, identities and events. By reflecting on how news media professionals think about and represent issues related to policing and mental illness within the context of the everyday, we may become more reflexive towards our own social constructions and assumptions about events such as fatal mental health crisis interventions and the individuals they involve (Howarth, Foster, & Dorrer, 2004). This might also allow us to view “the act of representing the social world” as an activity or practice that “carries with it the possibility for critique and transformation” (Howarth et al., 2004, p. 237). The framing analysis of the Paul Klein incident, presented in Chapter 5, is based on news and editorial items published in the regional newspaper, the Illawarra Mercury, and other metropolitan newspapers, including The Sydney Morning Herald , The Daily Telegraph, The Australian and The Age, between May 1998 and November 2006. Searches for these news items were conducted using the NewsBank and ProQuest news databases. The specific search terms used included ‘Paul Klein’ and ‘Berkeley + police + shooting’. In other instances, the framing analysis was conducted using hard copies of newspaper articles from my own personal research files and those provided to me by Paul Klein’s family. These accounted for a combined total of 58 relevant news items, including:

24

• • • • •

K. Clifford

40 news articles; one masthead editorial; one other column or op-ed article; eight more thematic news articles (e.g. news features); and seven letters to the editor.

A separate news item, which did not refer to Paul Klein by name, was retained for relevance as it offered a comparative news story about another police-involved mental health crisis intervention in the same suburb, which had been successfully resolved through non-lethal means following the Paul Klein incident. These news items spanned the period immediately following the fatal shooting of Klein through to the coronial inquest into his death, and subsequent legal proceedings. News framing and discursive content analyses were also conducted in relation to both the audiovisual news package of Klein’s death, which was broadcast in Australia by regional television station, WIN Television, and its corresponding unedited news footage which I was given access to by the station—although, these data sources remain secondary to the critical analyses of the printed press coverage of the incident.

Research Limitations and Contestable Characterisations While an examination of print and broadcast media coverage may seem less than relevant in today’s digital age, studying how fatal mental health crisis interventions are routinely reported in local and national newspapers and through mainstream broadcast and online media offers some advantages. For one, many of the mastheads included in the analysis continue to “provide cues to other types of news organizations about what is newsworthy” (Lawrence, 2000, p. 11). Their importance, writes Lawrence (2000), “therefore extends beyond their own readership” to the content of other mediums of publication (p. 11). In Australia, this also includes digital platforms such as Facebook and Google, who will soon have to pay traditional news media to publish their content, if a new code of conduct developed by the Australian Competition and Consumer

1 Introduction

25

Commission (2020) is implemented, when expected, by the end of 2020. Traditional news media still matters too, because not everyone is able to access or use all media. As Donovan and boyd (2021) explain: While Internet livestreams, blogs, and social media networks provide lowcost access to broadcast and print, their reach does not rival that of traditional media. (p. 334)

This is especially the case in many regional and rural areas of Australia where local news still matters, even if it does not always meet consumer demands (Park et al., 2020). At this local level, traditional news media organisations are also often in regular contact with police sources. As such, they play a central role in not only shaping the problems we pay attention to as a society, but also what constitutes a ‘public crisis’ in policing-related practices. Of course, this reportage remains a “product of the specific historical relationships” between media organisations and their news subjects (Lawrence, 2000)—just as they are a product of the evolving nature of news production and user engagement. For this reason, the research findings cannot be read as applicable to all news media organisations across all locales, although this does not preclude critical analysis of the “specific dynamics of specific news contexts” (Lawrence, 2000, p. 12). As Lawrence (2000) suggests, closely analysing the news media coverage of one issue through a case study approach with comparative observations about subsequent reporting across a longer period of time “allows us to see the full range of coverage produced on the ambiguous and controversial topic of police use of force” (p. 12). It also allows us to “assess continuities and breaks and to examine forces inside and outside journalism that explain attention cycles” (Waisbord & Russell, 2020, p. 385). Still, the limitations of the news framing analysis conducted for this study must be acknowledged with regard to the coding strategy and the researcher designation of news frames (especially the absence of an independent secondary coder). These processes are inherently evaluative. It is therefore essential when studying the potential framing effects of news framing decisions and practices that the valence of such ‘contestable categories’ be distinguished (de Vreese, 2010). Much of the data analysed for

26

K. Clifford

Policing, Mental Illness and Media are publicly accessible and therefore open to scrutiny by readers, some of whom may choose to challenge the conclusions drawn from the analyses outlined in the book. The terminology adopted in relation to people with lived experiences of mental ill-health is similarly open to contestation here, as it is more broadly. Within the mental health sector itself debates continue about the use of the word ‘consumer’ as preferential to terms such as ‘patient’, ‘client’ or ‘consumer/survivor/ex-patient’ when describing individuals who are under treatment for a psychiatric disorder. The literature on policing and mental illness is equally divergent in its references to mentally ill people, with some authors opting for the term ‘emotionally disturbed persons’ and others preferring the acronym ‘PSMI’—an abbreviation of the term ‘people with serious mental illness’—or ‘PMI’ for ‘persons with mental illness’. For the most part, Policing, Mental Illness and Media uses the terms ‘mentally ill individuals’, ‘person in psychiatric crisis’, ‘people with mental illness’ or some variation on these phrases. This is partly to acknowledge that not all people with mental illness are able to access support services or receive help (as is implied by the term ‘mental health consumer’) and also because these terms remind us that people experience mental illness—they are not ‘the mentally ill’ (Senate Select Committee on Mental Health, 2006). In other words, language is important in encapsulating individual experience. Different people respond to the same symptoms of mental ill-health in different ways and the spectrum of mental illnesses a person may experience is extensive. The essential factor for the purpose of the book’s discussion (and for definition) is that, at the time of interacting with police, the person’s mental state was impaired to the extent that their response to their environment was negatively affected, be it as part of a transitory period of distress or acute mental illness (Coleman & Cotton, 2010). The police management of mental health crises in the community has become something of a ‘wicked problem’ for us all as a society, and one for which I do not pretend to have solutions. Nor is it my intention with Policing, Mental Illness and Media to pass judgement or seek to remedy the injustices felt as a result of the police response to the individual cases to which the book refers. Verdicts on such matters have already been decided in other more appropriate and expert fora, such as coronial and

1 Introduction

27

civil court proceedings. Whether these judgements were right or wrong have also been contested, in many cases through news media, regardless of my own personal ambivalence towards some of the findings. This study instead focuses on an examination of these power dynamics as well as the history, social contexts and inherent complexities of fatal policeinvolved mental health crisis interventions—including the narratives of lived experience and journalism’s reporting of such critical incidents—to identify what has changed and can continue to be changed in relation to them. My aim is to prompt a conversation about these important issues, if only to try and arrive at a more fulsome understanding of the relationship between policing, mental illness and media in the context of a fluid political and professional working environment that is subject to accelerating change and increasing demands as well as austerity measures. Hopefully, it enables the space to reflect on and ask ourselves what constitutes progress within these constraints and what conversations we should be having about the nexus between policing, mental illness and media.

The Inherent Challenges of Conducting Research on Sensitive Issues A study of this kind is not without its challenges. For one, as previously alluded to, it can be difficult to access a reliable statistical evidence base from which to explore the police use of lethal force during mental health crisis interventions and to measure the extent of the problem. Of course, the challenges of reliable data access where police are concerned are a perennial topic of discussion among criminologists and scholars from cognate fields of study. As Reiner and Newburn (2008) note, on some topics, “the problems of researching the police are virtually insuperable” (p. 354). Some projects only get off the ground as a result of researcher ingenuity and the identification of the “in-between spaces” in the subject area that facilitate easier access (Hurdley, 2010, p. 517) or the use of intermediaries with authorised access to the required data— although, the latter can result in accusations of bias, depending on the nature of the intermediaries with whom a researcher collaborates (Baker, 2016). The documenting of police use of force incidents, including those

28

K. Clifford

involving mentally ill individuals, has been a particularly fraught process across a number of international jurisdictions. Getting access to clear data on the number of police officers killed in the line of duty can be far less challenging than getting data on the number of civilians killed by police. Even where access is provided and serves as less of a problem, the challenge of data integrity abounds. Globally, and even across Australia’s own state and territory-based policing jurisdictions, police agencies differ substantially in their reporting practices, and data about the use of force as a principal police response to mental health-related contacts with citizens are not often systematically recorded (Herrington et al., 2009). For example, an audit by the Police Integrity Commission (now the Law Enforcement Conduct Commission) of NSW Police Force investigation files on 83 critical incidents which occurred between 2009 and 2012 revealed “a significant gap” in record keeping practices and variable rates of compliance with procedural requirements (Police Integrity Commission, 2017, p. XIII). In some jurisdictions, data retrieval can be a protracted process “that generally requires some manual interrogation of the different databases to ensure that relevant cases have been included” (Office of Police Integrity—Victoria, 2010, p. 17). But as Lyneham, Larsen, and Beaucroft (2010) point out, police and coronial records (the two main sources most often relied upon for details and analyses of police use of lethal force in Australia) do not always contain complete data on each critical incident (see also Studdert et al., 2016). More often than not, coronial records are used to confirm the details of police and media reports and/or to complete missing information. However, “not all information is reported on or reported consistently in coronial records across cases” (Lyneham et al., 2010, p. 47). Coronial records may be lost or suppressed. This means that “some variables will have only limited information available” (Lyneham et al., 2010, p. 47). Given the delays unique to the completion and publication of coronial findings, data sources such as the National Deaths in Custody Program (NDICP) are also often updated retrospectively, with many cases excluded from the dataset of associated publications due to missing information (Lyneham et al., 2010). These problems have broader implications than for research alone; they also bear significant consequences for education and policy response

1 Introduction

29

and reforms in relation to policing and mental ill-health. The systematic collection of police use of force data serves several purposes, not least of all as an early warning system for problematic patterns or trends and, therefore, as a transparency mechanism by which to potentially improve public confidence in policing practices (IPCC, 2016). Without reliable data, officials are unable to identify who is being killed by police and whether the fatalities are isolated incidents or part of an alarming trend. This has especially been the case in the United States where police use of force data from official government sources are widely known to be incomplete and unreliable (Campbell, Nix, & Maguire, 2018; Williams, Bowman, & Jung, 2019). Some of the more reliable national databases, tracking real-time civilian deaths at the hands of the state, are not compiled by state agencies at all, but rather by enterprising and ambitious news organisations, non-profits and individual bloggers. For example, large-scale open-source data collection projects such as ‘The Counted’ (run by The Guardian) and ‘Fatal Force’ (The Washington Post ) have offered more comprehensive insights into the prevalence of fatal law enforcement encounters with citizens than most government sources in the United States. Compared to these alternative data sources, Federal Bureau of Investigation (FBI) and Bureau of Justice Statistics (BJS) databases miss an estimated 30–45 per cent of deaths caused by police use of force (Fuller et al., 2015; Tate et al., 2016; Williams et al., 2019). The Washington DC Police Department, for example, did not report any police-involved deaths of civilians to the FBI for the decade beginning 1998; the same year that The Washington Post found the city had one of the highest rates of office-involved killings in the country (Richardson, St. Vil, & Cooper, 2016). A number of high-profile police use of force incidents, including the killings of Eric Garner in New York and Tamir Rice in Ohio, have also previously been omitted from the FBI’s record. The discovery of the latter resulted in then-director of the FBI James Comey’s admission that it was “ridiculous and embarrassing” that newspapers like The Guardian and The Washington Post keep better data on police use of force than the United States Government (McCarthy, Swaine, & Laughland, 2015).

30

K. Clifford

In Australia, similar criticisms have been registered against police agencies, with the NSW Police Force coming under fire in October 2017 after it was revealed that its Professional Standards Command database only holds records of police-involved shootings dating back to 2012—the year the database was established (Nicholls, 2017). The revelation came after Greens MP David Shoebridge lodged his request for historical data on the number of people killed by police firearms in the wake of the fatal police shooting of Danukul Mokmool at Central Station. The parliamentarian was quoted at the time as saying: “If police don’t even know who they shot, let alone why, then what’s to stop them from repeating past mistakes?” (Shoebridge cited in Nicholls, 2017, p. 2). In considering the many challenges of writing this book, I have also had concerns about the possible negative effects on the individuals involved in reproducing the details of the fatal police-involved mental health crisis interventions analysed for this study. These anxieties have, at times, impeded the progress of the research and its write-up. The same was true for the writing process when I completed the original doctoral research on which segments of this book are based (see Clifford, 2010b). Researching people’s direct experiences of trauma and exploring the limits of traumatic recovery is, as Connolly and Reilly (2007) point out, “difficult research” (p. 536). There is obviously little comparison between the experiences of people who knew the deceased and those of my own as a media criminologist and trauma researcher, given the former’s reactions are of an entirely “different order” (Fincham, Scourfield, & Langer, 2008, p. 860). But the weight of responsibility that comes with ‘bearing witness’ to the very personal, painful, heartfelt and sometimes truly heartbreaking stories shared by the study’s subjects and participants (communicated through personal research interviews as well as secondary source documents) is undeniable. Sullivan (1998) captures this sense of responsibility in her own reflections on her research of sensitive topics: “At the forefront of my mind was always the thought that to be permitted a private view of another person’s past, their pain, their sorrow, was a privilege” (p. 4). This is as true for the testimonies of bereaved family members as it is for the police officers involved in these tragic events, who agreed to speak to me.

1 Introduction

31

It has been difficult in many cases to anonymise identities without sacrificing details about the case that are important to the analysis conducted and its findings. Furthermore, many of the details and individuals associated with these cases have already been identified elsewhere in published coronial findings, news reports, social media, government documents and other scholarly studies. I have therefore tried to be reflective about the presentation of material so as to minimise harm while at the same time attempting to open up the conversation about this understudied area, especially as it relates to the roles and responsibilities of police, media and us all as citizens. I apologise for any harm inadvertently committed. I hope that, at the very least, this book serves to remind readers that at the heart of these cases are real people, not all of whom are in a position to tell their own stories—as important as it is for everyone’s story to be heard.

Finally, a Note About the Nature of the Content That Follows… We cannot always predict how we will respond to our engagement with sensitive issues, such as violence and trauma, especially where we may have lived experience of such matters. The same holds true in relation to the topic of the relationship between policing and mental illness. As the research for this study has shown, while the lives of ordinary people can be irreversibly and detrimentally impacted by personal involvement in extraordinary and traumatic events, so too can the lives of other ordinary people be irrevocably affected by ‘bearing witness’ to this personal trauma and the weight of responsibility that often accompanies such acts of witnessing. Some of the content within this book may prove confronting or discomforting for certain readers. Researchers in the field of media criminology and other cognate disciplinary areas are all too aware of this and the need to maintain not only a sense of our own subject positions in relation to the study of these topics, but a sense of self-care too, even if at times we may falter in this enterprise. For useful

32

K. Clifford

resources and support materials on this, readers should consult the Dart Center for Journalism and Trauma and talk to their local health practitioner or someone else they trust.

References ACEM. (2018, February). Waiting times in the emergency department for people with acute mental and behavioural conditions. West Melbourne: Australasian College for Emergency Medicine. Retrieved August 21, 2019, from https:// acem.org.au/News/Feb-2018/ACEM-mental-health-care-access-block. Aubusson, K. (2019, May 29). Overburdened psychiatrists abandon ‘broken’ public system. The Sydney Morning Herald . Retrieved August 21, 2019, from https://www.smh.com.au/healthcare/overburdened-psychiatr ists-abandon-broken-public-system-2019052p51s3j.html. Australian Competition and Consumer Commission. (2020, July 31). Australian news media to negotiate payment with major digital platforms [Media Release]. Retrieved July 31, 2020, from https://www.accc.gov.au/ media-release/australian-news-media-to-negotiate-payment-with-major-dig ital-platforms. Australian Institute of Criminology. (2012, July 10). Police detainees and mental health [Media Release]. Retrieved March 15, 2015, from http://www.aic.gov. au/media/2012/july/20120710.html. Australian Institute of Criminology. (2013, May). Police shootings of people with a mental illness. Research in Practice No. 34. Canberra, ACT: Australian Government. Baker, D. (2016). Researching deaths after police contact: Challenges and solutions. Journal of Criminological Research, Policy and Practice, 2(1), 15–27. Beckett, C. (2019, April 26). Why emotions are central to the future of journalism. Medium. Retrieved November 25, 2019, from https://med ium.com/@CharlieBeckett/why-emotions-are-central-to-the-future-of-jou rnalism-507472f15319. Beckett, C., & Deuze, M. (2016, July–September). On the role of emotion in the future of journalism. Social Media + Society, 2(3), 1–6. Bennett, W. L., & Segerberg, A. (2013). The logic of connective action: Digital media and the personalization of contentious politics. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

1 Introduction

33

Brown, M. (2018, December 8). The mental health act review. Mental Health Cop [Blog post]. Retrieved December 31, 2018, from https://mentalhealth cop.wordpress.com/2018/12/08/the-mental-health-act-review/. Brown, M. (2020, February 3). Communicating clearly. Mental Health Cop [Blog post]. Retrieved February 3, 2020, from https://mentalhealthcop.wor dpress.com/2020/02/03/communicating-clearly/. Callaghan, G., & Gorrey, M. (2018, June 16). Courtney had a knife out in public, but she didn’t deserve to die. The Sydney Morning Herald, Good Weekend . Retrieved June 20, 2018, from https://www.smh.com.au/national/ nsw/courtney-had-a-knife-out-in-public-but-she-didn-t-deserve-to-die-201 80612-p4zkwy.html. Campbell, B. A., Nix, J., & Maguire, E. R. (2018). Is the number of citizens fatally shot by police increasing in the post-Ferguson era? Crime & Delinquency, 64 (3), 398–420. Chappell, D. (2008). Policing and emotionally disturbed persons: Disseminating knowledge, removing stigma and enhancing performance. Australian Journal of Forensic Services, 40 (1), 37–48. Clifford, K. (2010a). The thin blue line of mental health in Australia. Police Practice & Research: An International Journal, 11(4), 355–370. Clifford, K. (2010b). Mental health trauma narratives and misplaced assumptions: Towards an ethics of self-care among (humanities-based) trauma researchers. In M. Broderick & A. Traverso (Eds.), Trauma, media, art: New perspectives (pp. 175–192). Newcastle upon Tyne: Cambridge Scholars Publishing. Clifford, K. (2012). The vulnerable thin blue line: Representations of police use of force in the media. In I. Bartkowiak-Théron & N. L. Asquith (Eds.), Policing vulnerability (pp. 101–114). Annandale: Federation Press. Clifford, K., & White, R. (2017). Media and crime: Content, context and consequence. South Melbourne: Oxford University Press. Coleman, T. G., & Cotton, D. H. (2010). Reducing risk and improving outcomes of police interactions with people with mental illness. Journal of Police Crisis Negotiations, 10 (1), 39–57. Coleman, T. G., & Cotton, D. H. (2016). A strategic approach to police interactions with people with a mental illness. Journal of Community Safety & Well-Being, 1(2) [Open Access]. https://journalcswb.ca/index.php/cswb/art icle/view/9/24. Connolly, K., & Reilly, R. C. (2007). Emergent issues when researching trauma: A confessional tale. Qualitative Inquiry, 13(4), 522–540.

34

K. Clifford

Cordner, G. (2006). People with mental illness: Problem-oriented guides for police problem-specific guides series. Washington, DC: U.S. Department of Justice, Office of Community Oriented Policing Services. Crossley, N. (2004). Not being mentally ill: Social movements, system survivors and the oppositional habitus. Anthropology & Medicine, 11(2), 161–180. de Vreese, C. H. (2010). Framing the economy: Effects of journalistic news frames. In P. D’Angelo & J. A. Kuypers (Eds.), Doing news framing analysis: Empirical and theoretical perspectives (pp. 187–214). New York: Routledge. Doherty, L., & Bricknell, S. (2020, February). Shooting deaths in police custody. Statistical Bulletin 19. Canberra: Australian Institute of Criminology. Retrieved February 7, 2020, from https://www.aic.gov.au/publicati ons/sb/sb19. Donohue, D., & Andrews, G. (2013). NSW police force mental health intervention team: Forging a new path forward in mental health and policing in the community. In D. Chappell (Ed.), Policing and the mentally ill: International perspectives (pp. 65–104). Boca Raton, FL: CRC Press/Taylor & Francis. Donovan, J., & boyd, d. (2021). Stop the presses? Moving from strategic silence to strategic amplification in a networked media ecosystem. American Behavioral Scientist, 65 (2), 333–350. Entman, R. M. (1993). Framing: Toward clarification of a fractured paradigm. Journal of Communication, 43(4), 51–58. Entman, R. M. (2004). Projections of power: Framing news, public opinion, and U.S. foreign policy. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Este, J. (2000, August 3). Photo editors who bear small gifts. The Weekend Australian—The Australian Magazine, p. M03. Fincham, B., Scourfield, J., & Langer, S. (2008). The impact of working with disturbing secondary data: Reading suicide files in a coroner’s office. Qualitative Health Research, 18(6), 853–862. Fuller, D. A., Lamb, H. R., Biasotti, M., & Snook, J. (2015). Overlooked in the undercounted: The role of mental illness in fatal law enforcement encounters. Arlington, VA: Treatment Advocacy Center. Retrieved April 7, 2017, from http://www.treatmentadvocacycenter.org/evidence-and-research/studies. Gamson, W. A., & Modigliani, A. (1989). Media discourse and public opinion on nuclear power: A constructionist approach. American Journal of Sociology, 95 (1), 1–37. Gannoni, A., & Bricknell, S. (2019). National deaths in custody program: Deaths in custody in Australia 2016–17 . Statistical Reports No. 13. Canberra:

1 Introduction

35

Australian Institute of Criminology. Retrieved June 7, 2019, from https:// aic.gov.au/publications/sr/sr13. Goodsir, D. (2001). Death at Bondi: Cops, cocaine, corruption and the killing of Roni Levi. Sydney: Pan Macmillan Australia. Graziano, L. M., & Gauthier, J. F. (2018). Media consumption and perceptions of police legitimacy. Policing: An International Journal, 41(5), 593–607. Haggerty, K. D., & Sandhu, A. (2014). The police crisis of visibility. IEEE Technology and Society Magazine, 33(2), 9–12. Hartley, A. (2020, July 20). Family of man shot dead by police in Brisbane’s CBD questions ‘extreme’ use of force. ABC News. Retrieved August 3, 2020, from https://www.abc.net.au/news/2020-07-20/qld-police-shootingmohamad-ikraam-bahram-investigation/12441908. Herrington, V., & Clifford, K. (2012). Policing mental illness: Examining the police role in addressing mental ill-health. In I. Bartkowiak-Théron & N. L. Asquith (Eds.), Policing vulnerability (pp. 117–131). Annandale: Federation Press. Herrington, V., Clifford, K., Lawrence, P. F., Ryle, S., & Pope, R. (2009). The impact of the NSW police force mental health intervention team: Final evaluation report. Sydney, NSW: Charles Sturt University Centre for Inland Health and Australian Graduate School of Policing. Howarth, C., Foster, J., & Dorrer, N. (2004). Exploring the potential of the theory of social representations in community-based health research—and vice versa? Journal of Health Psychology, 9 (2), 229–243. Hurdley, R. (2010). In the picture or off the wall? Ethical regulation, research habitus and unpeopled ethnography. Qualitative Inquiry, 16 (6), 517–528. Inquest into the death of Courtney Topic. (2018, July 30). NSW Coroner’s Court, Glebe. https://coroners.nsw.gov.au/documents/findings/2018/Cou rtney%20Topic%20findings.pdf. Inquest into the death of Danukul Mokmool . (2019, August 5). State Coroner’s Court, Lidcombe. https://coroners.nsw.gov.au/documents/findings/2019/ Mokmool.pdf. IPCC. (2016, March). Police use of force: Evidence from complaints, investigations and public perception. London: Independent Police Complaints Commission. Ireton, C., & Posetti, J. (Eds.). (2018). Journalism, ‘fake news’ & disinformation: Handbook for journalism education and training [UNESCO Series on Journalism Education]. Paris: UNESCO. Retrieved July 30, 2019, from https:// en.unesco.org/fightfakenews.

36

K. Clifford

Jones, S. L., & Mason, T. (2002). Quality of treatment following police detention of mentally disordered offenders. Journal of Psychiatric and Mental Health Nursing, 9 (1), 73–80. Kerr, A. N., Morabito, M., & Watson, A. C. (2010). Police encounters, mental illness, and injury: An exploratory investigation. Journal of Police Crisis Negotiations, 10 (1), 116–132. Lawrence, R. G. (2000). The politics of force: Media and the construction of police brutality. Berkeley and Los Angeles, CA: University of California Press. Lee, M., & McGovern, A. (2014). Policing and media: Public relations, simulations and communications. London and New York: Routledge. Lyneham, M., & Chan, A. (2013). Deaths in custody in Australia to 30 June 2011: Twenty years of monitoring by the National Deaths in Custody Program since the Royal Commission into Aboriginal Deaths in Custody. Canberra, ACT: Australian Institute of Criminology. Retrieved June 10, 2015, from http://www.aic.gov.au/publications/mr/mr20. Lyneham, M., Larsen, J. J., & Beaucroft, L. (2010). Deaths in custody in Australia: National Deaths in Custody Program 2008. Canberra, ACT: Australian Institute of Criminology. Mawby, R. C. (2002). Policing images: Policing, communication and legitimacy. Cullompton, Devon: Willan Publishing. McCarthy, T., Swaine, J., & Laughland, O. (2015, December 9). FBI to launch new system to count people killed by police officers. The Guardian. Retrieved August 25, 2019, from https://www.theguardian.com/us-news/ 2015/dec/09/fbi-launch-new-system-count-people-killed-police-officersthe-counted. McDaniel, J. L. M. (2019). Reconciling mental health, public policing and police accountability. The Police Journal: Theory, Practice and Principles, 92(1), 72–94. McElvain, J. P., & Kposowa, A. J. (2008). Police officer characteristics and the likelihood of using deadly force. Criminal Justice and Behavior, 35 (4), 505–521. Mitchell, G. (2019a, May 21). ‘Nowhere to go’: Officer who shot man at Central Station says he had no choice. The Sydney Morning Herald . Retrieved May 21, 2019, from https://www.smh.com.au/national/nsw/now here-to-go-officer-who-shot-man-at-central-station-says-he-had-no-choice20190521-p51pk3.html. Mitchell, G. (2019b, May 25). A troubled life ended in 21 seconds when NSW police were confronted by a Sydney man. The Sydney Morning Herald . Retrieved June 10, 2019, from https://www.smh.com.au/national/

1 Introduction

37

nsw/a-troubled-life-ended-in-21-seconds-when-nsw-police-were-confro nted-by-a-sydney-man-20190522-p51q8a.html. Myhill, A., & Beak, K. (2008). Public confidence in police. London: National Policing Improvement Agency. Neuman, W. R., Just, M. R., & Crigler, A. N. (1992). Common knowledge: News and the construction of political meaning. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Nicholls, S. (2017, October 25). NSW police ‘don’t know who they have killed’. The Sydney Morning Herald . Retrieved August 12, 2018, from https://www.smh.com.au/national/nsw/nsw-police-dont-knowwho-they-have-killed-20171025-gz7pbt.html. Novak, K. J. (2009). Reasonable officers, public perceptions, and policy challenges. Criminology & Public Policy, 8(1), 153–161. NSW Police Force. (2016). Use of conducted electrical weapons (Taser): Major events & incidents group. Sydney: NSW Police Force. Retrieved June 24, 2018, from https://www.police.nsw.gov.au/__data/assets/pdf_file/0007/456 523/TASER_Use_Public_Information.pdf. NSW Police Force. (2017, July 26). A critical incident investigation has been launched following the death of a man during a confrontation with police in the Sydney CBD this evening [Facebook status update]. Retrieved June 10, 2019, from https://www.facebook.com/nswpoliceforce/posts/101 55056165636185. O’Brien, T. C., Meares, T. L., & Tyler, T. R. (2020). Reconciling police and communities with apologies, acknowledgements, or both: A controlled experiment. The ANNALS of the American Academy of Political and Social Science, 687 (1), 202–215. Office of Police Integrity, Victoria. (2010). Review of the investigation of deaths associated with police contact. Melbourne, VIC: Office of Police Integrity— Victoria. Office of the Public Advocate—Queensland. (2005, March). Preserving life and dignity in distress: Responding to critical mental health incidents. Brisbane, QLD: Department of Justice and Attorney-General, Queensland Government. Olding, R. (2017, July 27). From church to central station: How Dan Mokmool ended up dead at the hands of police. The Sydney Morning Herald . Retrieved February 1, 2019, from https://www.smh.com.au/nat ional/nsw/from-church-to-central-station-how-dan-mokmool-ended-updead-at-the-hands-of-police-20170727-gxjy81.html.

38

K. Clifford

Open Government NSW. (2018). GIPA to police: Deaths from police operations. Retrieved June 24, 2018, from http://opengovernmentnsw.org.au/dow nload/gipa-to-police-deaths-from-police-operations/. Palmer, R. (2018). Becoming the news: How ordinary people respond to the media spotlight. New York: Columbia University Press. Papacharissi, Z. (2014). Affective publics: Sentiment, technology, and politics. New York: Oxford University Press. Papadopoulos, N. (1997, July 5). Fatal Force. The Sydney Morning Herald , p. 29. Park, S., Fisher, C., Lee, J. Y., McGuinness, K., Sang, Y., O’Neil, M., et al. (2020). Digital news report: Australia 2020. Canberra, ACT: News and Media Research Centre, University of Canberra. Paterson, B. (2006). Newspaper representations of mental illness and the impact of the reporting of ‘events’ on social policy: The ‘framing’ of Isabel Schwarz and Jonathan Zito. Journal of Psychiatric and Mental Health Nursing, 13(3), 294–300. Pirkis, J., Blood, R. W., Francis, C., Putnis, P., Burgess, P., Morley, B., et al. (2002). The media monitoring project: A baseline description of how the Australian media report and portray suicide and mental health and illness. Canberra, ACT: Commonwealth Department of Health and Aged Care. Police Federation of Australia. (2005, May 10). Submission to the senate select committee on mental health. Canberra, ACT: Police Federation of Australia. Police Integrity Commission. (2001). Report to Parliament: Operation Saigon. Sydney, NSW: Police Integrity Commission. Police Integrity Commission. (2017, May). Project Harlequin: Audit of the NSW Police force investigations into 83 critical incidents occurring between 1 January 2009 and 30 June 2012. Sydney: State of New South Wales Through the Police Integrity Commission. Pollack, H. A., & Humphreys, K. (2020). Reducing violent incidents between police officers and people with psychiatric or substance use disorders. The ANNALS of the American Academy of Political and Social Science, 687 (1), 166–184. Reiner, R., & Newburn, T. (2008). Police research. In R. D. King & E. Wincup (Eds.), Doing research on crime and justice (2nd ed., pp. 343–374). Oxford: Oxford University Press. Richardson, J. B., St. Vil, C., & Cooper, C. (2016). Who Shot Ya? How emergency departments can collect reliable police shooting data. Journal of Urban Health, 93(1) Supplement, 8–31.

1 Introduction

39

Rossall, P. (2011). News media representations of homelessness: Do economic news production pressures prevent journalists from adequately reporting complex social issues. ejournalist, 11(2), 95–124. Roth, A. (2018). Insane: America’s criminal treatment of mental illness. New York: Basic Books. Rudd, A. (2019). The expanded ambiguity of the news photograph. NiemanLab Predictions for Journalism 2020. Cambridge, MA: NiemanLab. Retrieved December 20, 2019, from https://www.niemanlab.org/2019/12/ the-expanded-ambiguity-of-the-news-photograph/. Senate Select Committee on Mental Health. (2006). A national approach to mental health—From crisis to community (First report). Canberra, ACT: Commonwealth of Australia. Shoebridge, D. (2018, March 5). Police are undertrained and without support, people with mental illness are paying with their lives [Media Release]. Retrieved June 22, 2018, from http://davidshoebridge.org.au/2018/03/05/ media-release-police-are-undertrained-and-without-support-people-withmental-illness-are-paying-with-their-lives/. Slattery, L. (1998, March 7). After death, cold reality dawns on fatal shore. The Weekend Australian, p. 3. Sontag, S. (2003). Regarding the pain of others. London: Hamish Hamilton. Studdert, D. M., Walter, S. J., Kemp, C., & Sutherland, G. (2016). Duration of death investigations that proceed to inquest in Australia. Injury Prevention, 22(5), 314–320. Sullivan, K. (1998). Managing the ‘sensitive’ interview: A personal account. Nurse Researcher, 6 (2), 72–85. Tate, J., Jenkins, J., Rich, S., Muyskens, J., Elliott, K., Mellnik, T., & Williams, A. (2016, July 7). How The Washington Post is examining police shootings in the United States. The Washington Post. Retrieved June 15, 2019, from https://www.washingtonpost.com/national/how-the-washington-post-is-exa mining-police-shootings-in-the-united-states/2016/07/07/d9c52238-43ad11e6-8856-f26de2537a9d_story.html?utm_term=.9bd308e5bbdf. Teplin, L. A., & Pruett, N. S. (1992). Police as streetcorner psychiatrists: Managing the mentally ill. International Journal of Law and Psychiatry, 15 (2), 139–156. Turvill, W. (2015, May 1). UK police forces spend more than £36 m a year on PR and communications. PressGazette. Retrieved May 5, 2016, from http://www.pressgazette.co.uk/uk-police-forces-spend-morethan-36m-a-year-on-pr-and-communications.

40

K. Clifford

van Dijk, A., & Crofts, N. (2017). Law enforcement and public health as an emerging field. Policing & Society, 27 (3), 261–275. Waisbord, A., & Russell, A. (2020). News flashpoints: Networked journalism and waves of coverage of social problems. Journalism & Mass Communication Quarterly, 97 (2), 376–392. Watson, A. C., Corrigan, P. W., & Ottati, V. (2004). Police officers’ attitudes toward and decisions about persons with mental illness. Psychiatric Services, 55 (1), 49–53. Wells, J. (2019, May 20). Man shot dead by police at Sydney’s central station ‘may have suffered psychosis’. ABC News. Retrieved June 10, 2019, from https://www.abc.net.au/news/2019-05-20/police-shooting-inq uest-hears-man-may-have-had-psychotic-episode/11131346. Wild, K. (2018). Waiting for Elijah. Brunswick, VIC: Scribe Publications. Wild, K., Miskelly, G., & Wakatama, G. (2018, March 5). ‘A potent, tragic, fatal mix’: More than half of people shot dead by NSP police have a mental illness. ABC News. Retrieved March 7, 2018, from http://www.abc.net.au/ news/2018-03-05/police-shootings-and-mental-health-a-potent-tragic-fatalmix/9493356. Williams, H. E., Bowman, S. W., & Jung, J. T. (2019). The limitations of government databases for analyzing fatal officer-involved shootings in the United States. Criminal Justice Policy Review, 30 (2), 201–222. Wynne, B. (1996). May the sheep safely graze? A reflexive view of the expertlay knowledge divide. In B. Lash, B. Szerzynski, & B. Wynne (Eds.), Risk, environment and modernity: Towards a new ecology (pp. 44–83). London: Sage.

2 The Thin Blue Line of Mental Health

Before we can begin to analyse the ways in which fatal mental health crisis interventions are normatively represented in the media and the implications of these portrayals, it is important to understand the complexities of the relationship between policing and mental illness in the community, and the police use of force. This includes the organisational, political and cultural changes that have necessitated police act as first responders to mental health crises as well as those still required to ensure that this broader public health role is properly recognised and valued as a legitimate function within contemporary policing practice. The provision of a “safe and dignified policing response” (Donohue, 2010) to those experiencing mental illness in the community, while now more widely accepted, still meets with resistance in some quarters of the policing fraternity (Herrington & Clifford, 2012). Few people become police officers for the specific role of dealing with mentally unwell members of the public. Selling this function to police at the frontline has been difficult, although not impossible as the internationally recognised success of several police mental health-related initiatives demonstrates (more on these in the following chapter). Nonetheless, © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 K. Clifford, Policing, Mental Illness and Media, Palgrave Studies in Crime, Media and Culture, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-61490-4_2

41

42

K. Clifford

frontline police officers continue to express frustration about the expectation that mental health crises in the community require “a police rather than health-focused response” (Morgan & Paterson, 2019, p. 129). This is arguably as much the case today as it was when I initially commenced my research on this topic all those years ago. These frustrations point to the fact that the demands on police have continued to evolve and have become increasingly complex over time to the point where the traditional policing roles of law enforcement and crime control have been outstripped by a broader public service function (Keay & Kirby, 2017). In many jurisdictions, crime now makes up only a small proportion of the calls to police compared to the increasing number of non-crime related incidents, such as concerns for welfare and public safety. In the United Kingdom, the latter accounts for 84 per cent of all command and control calls (College of Policing, 2015). Police spend as much as 40 per cent of their time responding to incidents triggered by some kind of mental health issue “against a backdrop of severe cuts in social and health services” (Quinn, Laville, & Duncan, 2016). The situation is similar in Australia where welfare incidents “represent the largest number of requests for police presence, as well as calls for specific interventions to protect vulnerable people” (Bartkowiak-Théron & Asquith, 2017, p. 279). Particular attention has been drawn to the frequency with which frontline police officers have been expected to deal with persons presenting with the acute symptoms of mental disorders in the community (particularly those of a comorbid nature) and the complications this has generated, including the stretching or overburdening of police resources (see, e.g., Carroll, 2005; Police Federation of Australia, 2005; Sced, 2006; Springvale Monash Legal Service Inc, 2005; Wylie & Wilson, 1990). Commentators argue that police shoulder a disproportionate share of the responsibility for managing mental illness in the community, often acting as the primary and sometimes only frontline responders to mental health crisis incidents (Hails & Borum, 2003; Lamb, Weinberger, & DeCuir Jr., 2002; Teller, Munetz, Gil, & Ritter, 2006; Teplin & Pruett, 1992). Millions of dollars are spent in officer hours each year as a result of this police involvement and the management of hospital admissions and assessments (Hollander, Lee, Tahtalian, Young, & Jayashri, 2012; Wylie & Wilson, 1990), and the

2 The Thin Blue Line of Mental Health

43

figures continue to rise. In July 2019, for example, high ranking police officer Glenn Weir told the Royal Commission into Victoria’s Mental Health System that police officers in that particular Australian state were called to attend a mental health-related incident every 12 minutes in 2017–18 and that incidents involving psychiatric crisis had increased by almost 90 per cent in the four years to 2018. He observed: “We [the police] seem to have become the agency of first resort over the years” (Weir cited in Royal Commission into Victoria’s Mental Health System, 2019a, p. 734). Similar trends have been identified across other Australian police jurisdictions. In 2013, police across the state of NSW responded to 42,800 callouts involving individuals with a mental disorder (Donohue, 2014). This was more than double the number of mental health events requiring NSW police resources a decade earlier. Three years later, in 2016, the figure had jumped to 61,441 mental health-related incidents across the state (Walton, 2017). Urgent response calls for NSW police assistance in 2015–16 totalled 131,972. At the time, police strength in NSW was a little over 16,600 officers across 76 Local Area Commands (LACs) serving a population of around 7.9 million people—just shy of twothirds of Australia’s total population (see Australian Bureau of Statistics, 2018; NSW Police Force, 2017). Around two-thirds of the NSW population live within the Greater Sydney region, with vast distances between the state’s regional and rural centres. The latter presents particular challenges of its own for managing mental illness in the community. While the increasing demands on police resources are acknowledged by frontline police officers, they are not always as readily understood or appreciated by policy-makers and publics. McDaniel (2019) recalls that when Lord Adebowale was invited by the Metropolitan Police Service to chair the Independent Commission on Mental Health and Policing in the United Kingdom, he admitted he thought mental health had “little to do with policing”. By the time he finished the review, he had concluded otherwise, saying “mental health is core police business” (Adebowale cited in McDaniel, 2019, p. 74). Similar sentiments were echoed by Coroner Terry Ryan in his findings into the police shooting deaths of Anthony Young, Shaun Kumeroa, Edward Logan, Laval Zimmer and Troy Foster in Queensland, Australia, where he

44

K. Clifford

acknowledged that mental health should be treated as “core business” by police (Inquest into the deaths of Anthony William Young; Shaun Basil Kumeroa; Edward Wayne Logan; Laval Donovan Zimmer; Troy Martin Foster, 2017, par. 15). A joint inquest into the deaths of the five men—all with a history of suspected or known mental illness—was held because each had been shot and killed by Queensland police in separate unrelated incidents within 15 months of one another between August 2013 and November 2014. Three had been shot and killed within the space of a week. Among his recommendations, Coroner Ryan urged the Queensland Police Service to review its use of force policies, procedures and training (which it did) as well as the state’s tri-agency partnership between police, health and ambulance services—the Mental Health Intervention Project (MHIP)—with a view to establishing fulltime dedicated mental health intervention coordinators in each police district. He also advocated for continued funding of police body-worn cameras as an accountability measure. Efforts to reshape the policing ethos to embrace this expanded public health role are obviously not new (Wood & Watson, 2017). They stretch back to the deinstitutionalisation of mental health services, which began in earnest in the 1960s in Australia, and rapidly escalated during the 1980s and 1990s with the transfer of care, treatment and accommodation of mentally ill individuals from psychiatric custodial institutions to community-based settings. But even though managing mental illness has long been a part of the work that police do (Bittner, 1967), precisely whose responsibility it should be to act as primary responders to mental health emergencies in the community (and the costs associated with developing comprehensive mental health response models) remains an ongoing and vexed issue in view of the ‘revolving door’ nature of Australia’s mental health system. As Frank Quinlan the chief executive of peak body Mental Health Australia explains, police-involved mental health crisis interventions are neither simple nor straightforward because “while they involve police officers and a distressed individual, they’re just the pointy end of a whole system of attitudes, services and processes that has failed” (Quinlan cited in Evershed & Laughland, 2013). The findings of several major inquiries into mental health services in Australia support such views. While deinstitutionalisation may have

2 The Thin Blue Line of Mental Health

45

been virtuous in theory, the process of returning people with mental illness to community living and community care has neither delivered the savings measures nor the public health and human rights outcomes originally heralded. Among these was the reduced incidence of mental illness and the number (and mistreatment) of mentally ill individuals in society (Rosenberg, Hickie, & Mendoza, 2009; Wylie & Wilson, 1990). The problem is, as Barnhorst (2019) explains, that: Good outpatient psychiatric care is hard to find, hard to get into and hard to pay for. Inpatient care is reserved for the most extreme cases, and even for them, there are not enough beds. Initiatives like crisis hotlines and anti-stigma campaigns focus on opening more portals into mental health services, but this is like cutting doorways into an empty building.

These shortcomings are not unique to Australia, but what has emerged in terms of its predicament are the realities of a national mental health system that has been described as fragmented, ineffective, inefficient, unfair and “malfunctioning” (Hickie cited in Taylor, 2017). In January 2019, the Productivity Commission revealed that one-third of mentally ill people presenting at hospital EDs in Australia were experiencing unreasonably long waits for treatment, with some waiting as long as six days. The introduction of the National Disability Insurance Scheme (NDIS) has only served to escalate fears about the degradation of the nation’s mental health outreach and support services—and the increased likelihood of people ‘falling through the cracks’—given the redirection of funds from several state-based community mental health programs into the scheme (see Hermant, 2018; Hobday, 2018; Knaus, 2018). Some argue that the move has undermined the renewed focus on physical and mental health policy hard fought by many states and territories in the years preceding the NDIS’ rollout. It has also breathed new life into the controversy over NDIS eligibility criteria with claims that many individuals with psychosocial disabilities are being excluded from access and acceptance into the scheme, and face the cessation of the state and federally run specialist services on which they had previously relied (University of Sydney & Community Mental Health Australia, 2018). The result is that, despite some evidence of positive reforms to service

46

K. Clifford

delivery, “many people are still not getting the support they need to maintain good mental health or recover from episodes of mental illhealth” (Productivity Commission, 2019a, p. 1). Among mental health advocates, there is widespread agreement that the mental health system in Australia needs substantive reform rather than the piecemeal changes that have been progressively made by mental health leaders, policymakers and successive state and federal governments. Despite almost A$10 billion in Commonwealth spending on mental health every year, the National Mental Health Commission’s Contributing Lives, Thriving Communities report (2014) claims the mental health system in Australia continues to have “fundamental structural shortcomings”, including “no agreed or consistent national measures” of whether government funding is leading to “effective outcomes or whether people’s lives are being improved as a result” (p. 3).

The Prevalence of Mental Health Problems in the Australian Community The extent of the problem is such that mental illness and substance use disorders remain among the leading causes of the burden of disease in Australia (Australian Institute of Health and Welfare, 2016). In 2007, the National Survey of Mental Health and Wellbeing of Adults found an estimated 3.2 million Australians (equivalent to 20 per cent of the population aged between 16 and 85 years) had experienced a mental disorder in the 12 months preceding the survey (Australian Bureau of Statistics, 2007). These figures correlated to the prevalence rates previously recorded by the same ABS survey a decade earlier (Australian Bureau of Statistics, 1998), which led to the now-prominent ‘one in five’ awareness campaign—i.e. that at least one in five Australians will experience a mental illness at some stage of their lives. While the ‘one in five’ maxim was something of a public relations coup in terms of grabbing public attention and putting mental illness on the public and political agenda, contention persists about the precise incidence of mental health problems among Australia’s communities. This is because the prevalence rates cited likely underestimate the reality of the problem. Figures

2 The Thin Blue Line of Mental Health

47

presented in both clinical and research settings often refer to identified mental health problems, obscuring unidentified or undiagnosed mental health disorders. Research conducted by the Wesley Mission (2007) and reproduced in its report, Living with Mental Illness: Attitudes, Experiences and Challenges, claims the prevalence rate for mental disorders in Australia may more accurately lie somewhere between 22 per cent (diagnosed mental illness) and 36 per cent (including diagnosed and suspected mental illness) of the population. More recent figures from the Australian Health Policy Collaboration’s Mental and Physical Health Tracker report card, released in 2018, estimate that the number of Australians living with a mental health condition is probably closer to 4 million (around 16 per cent of the total population). Of those, more than 2.4 million Australians have to deal with mental ill-health as well as chronic physical health conditions, such as cardiovascular disease, diabetes, arthritis, cancer, back problems or asthma (see Harris et al., 2018). The disability caused by major depression has been likened to blindness or paraplegia, while the active psychosis experienced by those with schizophrenia produces disability equivalent to quadriplegia (Üstün, 1999). The World Health Organisation (2017) has deemed depression to be the single largest contributor to disability worldwide. In Australia, the cost to the economy of mental ill-health and suicide is estimated to be in the vicinity of A$43 billion to A$51 billion per year. This does not account for the additional costs to individuals of diminished health and well-being and the stigma associated with mental illness, which often results in lowered social participation (Productivity Commission, 2019b). Regardless of the numbers, the ‘one in five’ campaign along with its national mental health and suicide prevention contemporaries (e.g. R U OK? Day) managed to shine a light on mental illness, increasing public awareness and improving the mental health literacy of many Australians (Andrews, Hall, Teeson, & Henderson, 1999; Australian Bureau of Statistics, 1998; Hayman-White, Sgro, & Happell, 2006; Kitchener & Jorm, 2002). In the process, some of the long-held taboos and stigma surrounding mental illness were broken down. Some speculate that this improved literacy has since played a part in the number of self-reported experiences of mental illness, although statistics show that since the last iteration of the mental health and well-being survey, prevalence rates for

48

K. Clifford

common mental health disorders have remained relatively stable (Harvey et al., 2017). One of the more pressing problems for people experiencing mental illness in the community is that many are still unable to access the care they need. Key service gaps exist particularly for people with comorbid conditions, where the barriers between drug and alcohol services and mental health services undermine the possibility of holistic treatment and continuity of care. People with dual diagnoses are often “shuffled between services [that are] unable and sometimes unwilling to treat both conditions” (Senate Select Committee on Mental Health, 2006, p. 18; see also Chappell, 2008). Due to the challenges associated with securing effective treatment for some people, “acute relapses occur and in some cases, increase the risk of disturbed or aggressive behaviour” (Hollander et al., 2012, p. 402). As a result, police are often called to help manage people experiencing a mental health crisis in the community, with the probability of police involvement increasing “according to the severity of risk” (Bradbury, Ireland, & Stasa, 2014, p. 349). Police assistance may be called upon because of criminal behaviour or because a mentally ill person is creating a public nuisance. In some cases, they may arrive on scene to encounter a person in possession of what police perceive to be a weapon, such as a knife, screwdriver, sword or firearm. In many cases, a mentally ill person will come in contact with police after they have reached crisis point; something that might have been prevented with early intervention and adequate mental health care and treatment. Police also often experience what is known as a ‘bounce back’ problem, “where individuals referred to mental health services by police are unable to access appropriate treatment and care, and are discharged without support” (Productivity Commission, 2019b, p. 77). This means that police will often end up having to respond “multiple times to the same individuals experiencing mental health crises” (Productivity Commission, 2019b, p. 77). Frontline officers have historically been frustrated by the expectation that they will fill these service gaps by “being asked to shoulder duties no one else wants or can manage” (Police Federation of Australia, 2005; Sced, 2006).

2 The Thin Blue Line of Mental Health

49

Calls for a Joined-Up Response Changes to police roles and responsibilities in Australia bear parallels to those internationally where police agencies which have traditionally been “protective and insular” have been “encouraged to embrace a community approach that emphasizes collaboration and partnerships” (Pinto, 2004, p. 3). “As a result”, writes Pinto (2004), “collaborative efforts between police departments and the mental health system are slowly emerging” (p. 3). There is indeed a growing appreciation of the benefits (and barriers) to a joined-up response to managing public health issues, such as mental illness (see van Dijk et al., 2019). But as Lamb and colleagues (2002) point out, while coordination and collaboration between law enforcement and mental health systems are crucial, “the very different areas of expertise of each should be recognized and should not be confused” (p. 1266). While mental health is inherently linked to medicine, policing “has markedly different roots”—even though both operate as frontline services with the capacity to intervene directly in the lives of people (van Dijk & Crofts, 2017, p. 264). Acknowledging these differences moves us closer to what is known as a ‘human rights approach’ to the policing of mental ill-health in the community—i.e. one that raises “fundamental questions about the vulnerability of people in the care of the police, the appropriateness of police interventions, and how societies define and delineate the role and function of the police and health sectors” (Morgan & Paterson, 2019, p. 124). In response, a number of Australian states and territories have developed formal protocols and interagency agreements, known as memoranda of understanding (MOUs), to underpin the relevant Mental Health Act in each jurisdiction. MOUs seek to provide clear and agreed guidelines on the roles, responsibilities and parameters of engagement between mental health and law enforcement agencies in mental health crisis situations where both services are involved (Carroll, 2005). They provide a structure for performance monitoring and dispute resolution to ensure that, where viable, early intervention is enabled to appropriately link mentally ill individuals with the support services and care they

50

K. Clifford

require at the first opportunity (Herrington, Clifford, Lawrence, Ryle, & Pope, 2009; Victoria Police, 2008). This includes: • The provision of seamless and timely handover procedures between police and emergency departments; • Improved notifications to police from mental health units and/or hospitals on the release of individuals detained under the provisions of the Mental Health Act; • Delineation of the responsibilities between police and ambulance for the transportation of mentally ill individuals to hospital and other places of safety; and • More general information sharing about high-risk individuals and those with formalised mental health treatment and recovery plans. Most legislative frameworks within Australia provide the flexibility for this final point. However, the availability of this information does not always translate into disclosures to police in the field, particularly at the call dispatch stage for mental health-related events. “In theory”, explains Herrington and colleagues (2009), “increased information sharing about high-risk individuals increases the likelihood that officers attending calls will be better appraised of what to expect, how a [mental health] consumer is best approached, and what care management plans are in place to facilitate this; all of which might reduce the likelihood of an event escalating and resulting in injuries [or death]” (p. 37). But the scope of information communicated by police radio dispatchers has historically been constrained by inadequate information sharing agreements between public health services and police agencies, as well as the impulse to preserve the confidentiality of mental health information and the privacy of individuals experiencing a mental health crisis (Herrington et al., 2009). Often, the onus has been on police officers to request additional information, where required. Ironically, the voices left out of these interagency discussions have typically been the ones that are most impacted by this strategic decision-making—i.e. those of people with mental health problems whose information it is to be shared, and their advocates (Brown, 2018b). This is despite previous consultations with these individuals, which at the time revealed a consensus view that,

2 The Thin Blue Line of Mental Health

51

where it serves to better prepare police on callouts and produce a more tailored response in the best interests of a person in crisis, an individual’s mental health history should be shared with police (Livingston et al., 2014; Office of Police Integrity, Victoria, 2012). Similar sentiments were expressed by some of the mental health consumers I spoke to for my own research: …when the police are called out to these situations and there’s past history, that past history should be given to the police first and foremost, so they can prepare themselves to deal with that person… when they go into a situation cold, it often escalates because they’re unaware of whether it is mental illness or whatever… They have quite a lot of technology at their disposal. Why aren’t they using that technology for these scenarios, because they could do a rego [car registration] check, they could do a name check…? And my experience—even the address— as soon as the police have heard it’s my address… the police go, “oh, yeah, we know exactly how to deal with this person”. So, obviously, it goes back to knowledge; using their resources for the best outcome.

Interagency collaboration and the identification of mentally ill individuals during the initial communications stage has been shown to be “critical to the prevention and resolution of mental health crisis situations” (Expert Advisory Committee on Information Sharing in Mental Health Crisis Situations, 2000, p. ix; see also van Dijk et al., 2019). Indeed, a gap in information sharing was blamed for the string of policeinvolved fatalities of the five mentally ill men in Queensland, referred to at the top of this chapter. The following year, the Queensland Police Service (QPS) and Queensland Health piloted a Police Communications Centre Mental Health Liaison (PCC MHL) service involving the placement of a clinician after-hours in the Brisbane Police Communications Centre (BPCC) where triple-zero emergency calls, first response officers and QPS crews are coordinated and dispatched. One of the key roles of the PCC MHL was to provide the QPS with meaningful and timely mental health information, advice and assistance on a state-wide basis. This included specific triggers for mentally ill people, and advice on the most effective strategies for engagement and communication with individuals. The PCC MHL also provided linkages between the QPS

52

K. Clifford

and local mental health services through early referrals and notifications of potential presentations and liaison regarding existing mental health clients. An on-call psychiatrist was available to provide clinical support and advice in relation to referrals where additional authority was needed to release a mental health consumer’s information (Queensland Forensic Mental Health Service, 2016). The PCC MHL was evaluated in its first year of operation (8 January to 15 December 2015) with strong support demonstrated for the service. This led to expanded coverage of the PCC MHL and recurrent funding. Findings from the evaluation pointed to improved outcomes for individuals experiencing mental health crises in the community (accounting for 82 per cent of referrals to the PCC MHL in its first 12 months of operation) as a result of the increased situational awareness among frontline QPS officers, enhanced mental health service responses and improved interagency coordination and collaboration (Queensland Government, 2018). In approximately 72 per cent of the referrals made to the PCC MHL service, information was shared with the QPS by the clinician (Queensland Forensic Mental Health Service, 2016). In 2019, a draft report on mental health recommended the PCC MHL be considered as a preferred co-response approach to mental health crisis situations by all Australian states and territories (Productivity Commission, 2019b). True, however, of many communications frameworks and formal protocols relating to the separation of roles and responsibilities, MOUs are only as effective on paper as they are enforceable in practice. Frontline police officers have historically reported non-compliance with MOUs by some mental health staff and hospitals, who have been perceived as “abdicating their responsibilities, more often than not due to lack of funding and availability of positions” (Police Federation of Australia, 2005, p. 3; see also Carroll, 2005). Police officers have previously noted “a trend for requests for ambulance officers to convey mental health consumers to hospital to be met with estimated times of arrival of two hours or more” (Herrington et al., 2009, p. 63). This presents police with the dilemma of either having to wait with the mentally ill person for the arrival of an ambulance or convey the individual to hospital themselves (Herrington et al., 2009). In 2019, the Royal Commission into Victoria’s Mental Health System (2019b) heard the story of a mentally ill person

2 The Thin Blue Line of Mental Health

53

who got themselves arrested to be able to access acute mental health care. Without any beds available in the state, the person ended up sitting in an emergency department with two police officers for 36 hours. A survey of 3534 police officers in Victoria found that gaining support from mental health services was considered to be one of the most significant challenges to effectively resolving situations involving mentally ill individuals (Godfredson, Thomas, Ogloff, & Luebbers, 2011). For this reason, police report that they are more likely to try and handle matters involving a mentally ill person themselves—either informally or using apprehension powers—rather than call on the support of mental health services (Ogloff et al., 2013).

The Criminalisation of Mental Illness in Media and Through Contact with the Law The need to embody this gatekeeper function has proven a source of frustration for frontline police, particularly when it comes to inter-hospital transportations and the carriage of non-violent mentally ill individuals or those who do not display the potential for violence (Police Federation of Australia, 2005; Sced, 2006). Most stakeholders agree that the use of police vehicles should only occur in situations where “the person is at risk of serious harm to themselves or others, or where their behaviour presents a threat to public safety”, including paramedics (NSW Health & NSW Police Force, 2018, p. 13). Police vehicles should be considered a last resort for fear of otherwise encouraging people to see mentally ill individuals “as criminals, rather than patients” (Chappell, 2008, p. 44). Being transported in a police vehicle has repeatedly been cited as a distressing experience for people with mental illness (see Bradbury et al., 2014; Frueh et al., 2005). The transportation of mentally ill individuals by trained medical staff in their vehicles or by ambulance where viable is preferred because it recognises a person’s “right to dignity and acknowledges that their condition is a health issue”, not a criminal matter (Carroll, 2005, p. 22). This was noted by several of the mental health consumers I consulted for my research:

54

K. Clifford

So, anyway, I go into a psychotic episode and all this… I’d never had experience of being handcuffed in my life. I was then escorted out—held by my arm at the back of my handcuff, which is most embarrassing—to neighbourhood and the street. Lucky it was in the night time; if it had been in the broad daylight, I would have been more extremely embarrassed. And, anyway, I was then put in the back of the paddy wagon, which I’d never ever been put in a paddy wagon. Nothing to hang onto; just a bit of metal seat across the back of it…

Lengthy journeys in police vehicles, especially over the distances that need to be covered between many rural and remote areas of Australia, can also expose individuals to increased risks such as “clinical deterioration and adverse climatic conditions” (NSW Health & NSW Police Force, 2018, p. 13). Nonetheless, a draft report from the Productivity Commission (2019b) notes that compared to people with other health conditions presenting at an ED, people with mental illness are 10 times as likely to arrive by police or correctional services vehicles. Over the past 15 years, the rate of mental health presentations at EDs has risen by about 70 per cent in Australia, particularly after-hours and in sparsely populated regions, with people in capital cities nearly twice more likely to access mental health services as people in remote areas (Productivity Commission, 2019b). Technological advances, such as teleconferencing facilities and the growing accessibility of e-mental health services in rural and regional Australia, have reduced the need for police involvement in transporting people with mental illness long distances for clinical assessment (Bradbury et al., 2014). But police contact with people in mental health crisis in regional and remote areas of the country still intensifies after-hours when crisis assessments and interventions by health services become less accessible (Bradbury et al., 2014). In some cases, police agencies themselves have been the catalysts for change, attempting to provide more humane and therapeutic interventions. For example, in December 2008, the NSW Police Force withdrew its involvement in the transfer of mentally ill individuals between hospitals in metropolitan areas with the service ceased in rural LACs as of February 2009, albeit with some “room for discretion” in relation to high-risk transfers

2 The Thin Blue Line of Mental Health

55

(Donohue cited in Robotham, 2008). The decision coincided with revisions to the Mental Health Act 2007 [NSW], which extended the powers of detention to allow ambulance officers to transport mentally ill individuals to a mental health facility for psychiatric assessment, and to allow police to balance their role under the Act with competing law enforcement obligations (Herrington et al., 2009). A delay to the inclusion of these changes in the MOU meant that, in practice, while the NSW Police Force had “progressed policies in relation to limiting their involvement in transporting mental health consumers in police vehicles”, there was some difficulty in holding other agencies to account on these plans (Herrington et al., 2009, p. 25). As of late 2009, the widespread practice of transporting mentally ill individuals in police vehicles continued, despite interagency agreements. A revised MOU between NSW Health (including NSW Ambulance) and the NSW Police Force released almost a decade later in 2018 demonstrates the “determined push” by police to ensure that persons detained under section 22 of the Mental Health Act are transported to hospital or a dedicated mental health facility by an ambulance vehicle rather than a police vehicle for assessment (Walton, 2017). The document acknowledges that the primary responsibility of police in relation to mental health crisis situations is to ensure public safety: “Resourcing issues at another agency should not be the sole reason for the involvement of police” (NSW Health & NSW Police Force, 2018, p. 10). While similar principles apply in the state of Victoria, statistics show that Victorian police apprehend on average one person every two hours and transport them to hospital for a mental health assessment (Short, MacDonald, Luebbers, Ogloff, & Thomas, 2014). These jobs can take up to two hours, while a quarter will take police anywhere between 3.5 to 6.5 hours (Office of Police Integrity, Victoria, 2012). This time is often regarded as dead time, given that the “presentation by police of a mental health consumer to an ED or mental health unit for assessment formally passes the care of that individual” to the relevant health department “which in theory negates the need for the continued involvement of police, unless the individual is violent” (Herrington et al., 2009, p. 62). This waiting time is therefore often considered above and beyond

56

K. Clifford

the legislative obligations of frontline police officers (Herrington et al., 2009). In some instances, the criminal justice system has become an alternative route to accessing much-needed psychiatric care for mentally ill individuals (Engel & Silver, 2001). Studies show that police officers who are unsure how to bring a mental health crisis situation under control see ‘mercy booking’—arresting a mentally ill person for their protection and safety—as a more compassionate and risk-adverse option to the alternative of ‘doing nothing’ and leaving the person unattended (see McDaniel, 2019; Mitchell, 2008; Wood, Watson, & Fulambarker, 2017). However, such practices—not unlike the police transportation of people with diminished capacity in low-risk scheduling scenarios—are regarded as one of the major causes of the criminalisation of mentally ill individuals in society (Lamb et al., 2002). It is already widely known that those who fill our prisons are alarmingly some of society’s most vulnerable and disadvantaged. Major mental illnesses such as schizophrenia and depression are thought to be between three to five times more prevalent among Australian prisoner populations than in the general community. In 2015, almost half (49 per cent) of the people entering prison reported that they had previously been diagnosed with a mental health disorder; a jump from the 38 per cent who self-reported the same three years earlier (Australian Institute of Health and Welfare, 2015). This has led to claims that prisons have become “de facto institutions for people with mental health problems” (Wilkes cited in Belcher & Al-Yaman, 2007, p. viii; see also Perez, Leifman, & Estrada, 2003)—even though doubts remain about the merits of police diversion of mentally ill people into the criminal justice system, and the suitability of prisons as an environment for the treatment of people with complex mental healthcare needs. As it is in the broader community, so too the prevalence rates of mental illness among incarcerated people in Australia are likely to be much higher than official statistics suggest, given the hidden nature of undiagnosed or undisclosed mental health disorders among prison populations. These prevalence rates and the publicity afforded to violent incidents involving mentally ill individuals in crisis can fuel public speculation that “a high proportion of people with mental illness commit

2 The Thin Blue Line of Mental Health

57

crimes” even though “this is not the case” (Senate Select Committee on Mental Health, 2006, p. 329). A small subset of people with mental illness—those who are experiencing the symptoms of psychosis, have discontinued taking their medication and are substance users—can be more violent than the general population (Beck, White, & Gage, 1991; Cordner, 2006; Fulwiler, Grossman, Forbes, & Ruthazer, 1997; Lamb et al., 2002; Mulvey, 1994; Soyka, 2000; Swanson et al., 1997; Torrey, 1994). But overall, research has shown that people with mental illness are more likely to cause themselves harm or to be harmed than they are to cause harm to others (Commonwealth of Australia, 2010; Jablensky & Jones, 1998; Link, Andrews, & Cullen, 1992; Mindframe National Media Initiative, 2014; Morris, 2006; Rosenman, 1994; SANE Australia, 2016; Steadman et al., 1998). However, police officers—much like the broader community of which they are representative and in which they live and work—often hold the illusionary belief that the risk of violence is much higher in situations where mental illness is a factor (see Kimhi et al., 1998; Lipson, Turner, & Kasper, 2010; Monahan & Steadman, 1994; Monahan et al., 2001; Ruiz & Miller, 2004). This can influence police mental health crisis response and dispositional decision-making, as evidenced by the following comments from a former police officer I interviewed: …because mentally ill people can be extremely dangerous… it’s not all that different from somebody who’s doing an armed hold-up. I mean, their mental situation at the time is obviously very volatile and very unstable… You certainly have more of a different feeling about somebody who is mentally ill than you do about somebody who is doing an armed holdup, but you still have your job to do and you are still going to deal with it in a similar fashion and, at the same time, try not to get hurt yourself.

The proposition that police attitudes (positive or negative) towards mental illness play an important role in responses to individuals in crisis and can influence the discretionary behaviour of police during mental health crisis interventions, while a seemingly logical conclusion, remains unsettled (Anasseril, 2004; Mendias & Kehoe, 2006; Watson, Corrigan, & Ottati, 2004). The limited studies that have sought

58

K. Clifford

to examine the relationship between police attitudes and responses to mental health crisis situations have produced conflicting results. A number of researchers have questioned the extent of influence on police decision-making with some suggesting that attitudes can account for little more than a slight variation in police behaviour (see, e.g., Worden, 1989). Others conclude that the attitudes of attending officers can play a significant part in determining “whether a distressed, fearful, and acutely psychotic individual will be chased away, driven home by a relative, referred for involuntary commitment, or arrested and incarcerated” (Patch & Arrigo, 1999, p. 32)—or, worse still, killed. Studies by those such as Corrigan and colleagues (2001) support this perspective, finding that improved knowledge of mental illness can result in less negative and stigmatising attitudes and therefore less fear towards people in mental distress. Different levels of stigma among police officers can impact on their perceptions of preparedness to engage with mentally ill individuals in the field of duty (Haigh, Kringen, & Kringen, 2020). But improved police officer attitudes do not always translate into improved police officer behaviours (McLean, Wolfe, Rojek, Alpert, & Smith, 2020). The greatest discretion for police officers involved in a mental health crisis intervention is typically afforded where they have initiated the contact with the mentally ill person themselves. In these circumstances, there is “considerable potential for the disposition to be influenced by police officers’ personal attitudes or beliefs” (Lamb et al., 2002, p. 1267). The interpersonal skills of police officers can play a crucial role in determining the outcomes of interactions with a mentally ill person as well as the quality of the experience for the individual in distress (Office of the Public Advocate—Queensland, 2005). Personal experience of mental health problems—be it through one’s own direct experience as a mental health consumer or as a carer to family or friends—can predispose police to being “more informed and sensitive towards mental health issues than those without an appreciation of the actual reality of these experiences” (Morris, 2006, p. 7). Personal experience has also been shown to have a strong association with the adoption of “help-centred outcomes” as opposed to more restrictive options for dealing with mentally ill individuals in crisis (Godfredson et al., 2011, p. 191). Encounters where people with mental health problems “perceive the police acting in a

2 The Thin Blue Line of Mental Health

59

procedurally just manner—by treating people with dignity and respect, and by being fair and neutral in their actions”—are also more likely to be associated with positive perceptions of police, leading to greater citizen cooperation and compliance with police directives (Mazerolle, Antrobus, Bennett, & Tyler, 2013; Watson & Angell, 2007). Frequently, however, interactions between police and mentally ill individuals are instigated by calls from members of the public, where the behaviour of the mentally ill person may limit the discretionary powers available to police (Patch & Arrigo, 1999). There is reason to believe that the attitudes of police officers towards mental ill-health may be improving more broadly, despite continued resistance towards supporting communitybased interventions (Bell & Palmer-Conn, 2018; see also Cotton, 2004). But when it comes to public opinion on the subject, the overriding perception is that police attitudes towards mentally ill people are negative with police seen as “intolerant toward such persons in crisis” (Clayfield, Fletcher, & Grudzinskas Jr., 2011, p. 743). Mediated representations of mental illness (and its relationship to policing) have historically done little to correct such views. Nor have they done much to alter the misconception that a causal link exists between mental illness and violence. They have tended to instead perpetuate the idea that people with mental illness are ‘deviant’ and constitute “a danger to the community” (Allen & Nairn, 1997, p. 379; see also Blood, Putnis, & Pirkis, 2002; Chappell, 2014; Philo, Henderson, & McLaughlin, 1994; Wahl, 1992). Studies of mental health-related news content reveal risk and dangerousness to be the most common aspects covered, with it “rare to find stories of accomplishment or recovery” (Morris, 2006, p. 94; see also Jenkins cited in Collins, 2019; Wahl, 2003). Risk reporting rarely parallels actual threat trajectories, and news media have a vested interest in popularising the fear of crime and deviancy (for profit) through the use of material that “feeds and fuels the dangerousness debate, making the actual risks to us seem considerably greater than they really are” (Pratt, 1995, p. 5). Research has found that the information collected by journalists from news sources such as police and courts can be some of the most problematic in terms of reinforcing negative stereotypes about suicide and mental illness, and vulnerable people in the community (Pirkis, Blood,

60

K. Clifford

Dare, & Holland, 2008). A classic example is the police reference to a mental health patient as having ‘absconded from hospital’; the impression being that the person has escaped and represents a threat or danger to the community. The concern is that, although news reports which frame mental illness in the context of conflict and violence tend to relate to relatively rare or highly specific circumstances, they can have the effect of inferring that all people with mental illness represent a dangerous threat or public risk that should be contained—just as, one might argue, the emphasis on fatal mental health crisis interventions in reporting has the potential to persuade publics that this is the inevitable outcome to all mental health-related encounters with law enforcement. As Ewald (1993) explains: The moment a population is identified as a risk, everything within it tends to become—necessarily becomes—just that. Risk has an allusive, insidious potential existence that renders it simultaneously present and absent, doubtful and suspicious. Assumed to be everywhere, it founds a politics of prevention. (p. 221)

Carried within these messages of fear are images and targets of “what or who is to be feared. Attached to these ideal types of villains and threats are formal agents of social control associated with the available solutions to these problems” (Altheide, 2002, p. 56). In Australia, two large-scale media monitoring projects have provided insights into the ways in which news media conventionally report on mental illness (and suicide). Baseline data for the projects were obtained in 2000–01 with a comparative analysis undertaken in 2006–07 (see Pirkis et al., 2002, 2008 respectively). The results of this follow-up study, Changes in media reporting of suicide and mental health and illness in Australia: 2000/01–2006/07 , showed an increase in the proportion of newspaper headlines that featured inappropriate mental health-related language when compared with the data from the original study. Examples of terms characterised as inappropriate included ‘cracked up’, ‘crazy lunatics’, ‘nutcase’, ‘a psycho’ and ‘lunatic asylum’ (Commonwealth of Australia, 2010, p. 3). From 2006–07, 8.2 per cent of items analysed as part of the media monitoring project were identified as using

2 The Thin Blue Line of Mental Health

61

inappropriate language in their headlines as opposed to 4.2 per cent of newspapers headlines analysed in 2000–01. This was despite a dramatic decrease in the overall use of outdated, negative or inappropriate language between the 2000–01 and 2006–07 reporting periods (Pirkis et al., 2008). Even where police officers are strongly motivated to protect the public and to adopt a “compassionate and respectful approach to individuals with mental health problems”, there are often inconsistencies in the way that individual officers articulate this, including the language they use to describe the behaviour of mentally ill individuals with whom they come in contact (McGlen, 2008, p. 26). This has the potential to “unwittingly reinforce ideas about individuals and communities that disrupt the social goals of policing” (Stanford, 2012, p. 20). In Australia, pocket guides such as Mindframe for Police are designed to assist police officers in managing their interactions with media (and vice versa) with regard to incidents involving mental illness or a suspected suicide. The Mindframe resources, developed under the auspices of the Mindframe National Media Initiative, which is funded by the Australian government and managed by the NSW-based organisation Everymind (what was the Hunter Institute of Mental Health), advise police to: • Remember their legislative responsibilities in callouts as well as court cases involving mental illness and suicide; • Consider the impact of the story, particularly on bereaved individuals and traumatised witnesses, and whether to make official comment; • Consider the impact that media access to photographs or footage of a person with mental illness interacting with police may have; • Include information that promotes help-seeking behaviours; • Ensure that actions and words reflect that mental illness is a health concern, even when responding to a criminal matter; and • Check that appropriate language is used, which does not stigmatise or perpetuate common myths and stereotypes about mental illness. But the circulation of ethical guidelines such as Mindframe for Police (and its precursor for media professionals, Reporting Suicide and Mental Illness), while resulting in positive trends in the use of more sensitive

62

K. Clifford

language about mental illness, has not necessarily translated into the contextualisation of mental health issues in the media. The differences between the ways in which police, law and media construct their narratives of crime and justice have also demonstrated the potential to impact on not only public understandings of sensitive health issues, like mental illness and suicide, but on the roles and responsibilities of law enforcement and the criminal justice system in relation to such matters (Johnston & Breit, 2010; Mawby, 2002; Nobles & Schiff, 2004). It does not take much to convince frontline police officers of the threats inherent to the job. Policing is, after all, known as an inherently ‘risky profession’, subject to certain occupational hazards (Ericson & Haggerty, 1997). Frontline officers are regularly reminded of this; police operational manuals acknowledge that “almost everything” a police officer confronts in their everyday duties “has some associated risk” (Donohue, Murphy, & Cowan, 2009, p. 217). But, as Stoughton (2014) points out, police officers are not just told about the risks they face. They are “shown painfully vivid, heart-wrenching dash-cam footage of officers being beaten, disarmed, or gunned down after a moment of inattention or hesitation”. Despite this, it is only relatively recently that the high-stress environment of the job has been linked to police officers’ own experiences of physical and mental health problems (Barron, 2013; Lawrence et al., 2018; Soomro & Yanos, 2019; Victoria Police, 2016). The hypervigilance demonstrated towards potential occupational hazards by police on a day-to-day basis may explain why some frontline officers tend to overestimate the risks inherent to what might otherwise be considered relatively routine police operations. This includes contact with mentally ill individuals in the community. Police culture has something to answer for in this respect. After all, it stands to reason that a culture of law enforcement that discourages help-seeking behaviours and discussion about police officers’ own mental health problems is unlikely to promote positive or well-informed views among its police officers about mental illness within the general population (Soomro & Yanos, 2019). Police who subscribe to negative stereotypes of mental illness and the misconception that mentally ill people are violent, dangerous individuals will especially view contacts with these people as ‘risky encounters’.

2 The Thin Blue Line of Mental Health

63

To test the theory, a randomly selected sample of 382 police officers undergoing in-service training in the United States were shown a series of vignettes in which some individuals were identified as having schizophrenia. The majority of participants singled out these individuals as “significantly more dangerous” than others who were shown in the vignettes behaving in precisely the same manner (Watson et al., 2004, p. 51). The exception was that the latter group had not been identified as having schizophrenia. When other variables were controlled for, the addition of information identifying the individual as having schizophrenia also “significantly increased perceptions of violence across all role vignettes” (Watson et al., 2004, p. 52). As the authors of the study point out, the findings may reflect police officers’ experiences on previous callouts where a person with mental illness became violent. These incidents are “often more memorable than are unproblematic calls” (Watson et al., 2004, p. 52). Even if this is the case, such a heightened sense of risk is troubling, especially if it causes police officers to approach mentally ill individuals more defensively or aggressively than they might other members of the community. This has the potential to increase the chance of a mental health crisis intervention escalating into unnecessary or avoidable violence (Corrigan, Markowitz, Watson, Rowan, & Kubiak, 2003; see also Clayfield et al., 2011). There is therefore evidence to suggest that the stigmatisation and criminalisation of mental illness persists, not only as a consequence of mediated representations of mentally ill people and community attitudes towards them, but also within policing practice where the latter is “in large part a by-product of limited dispositional options for police” resulting from deinstitutionalisation reforms and neoliberal political agendas (Wood & Watson, 2017, p. 291; see also van Dijk et al., 2019).

64

K. Clifford

The Complexities of Police-Mental Health Relations in Theory and Practice Part of the problem is that it is not mandatory for police to be trained as experts at “assessing a person’s state of mental health or illness” (Syme, 2002, p. 3)—even though they are often reluctantly placed in the position of being first responders to mental health crises in the community. In evidence to the coronial inquest into the death of Victorian teenager, Tyler Cassidy, one police officer admitted that although the 15-year-old was carrying two large knives and threatening to endanger the public, he was unable to say whether Cassidy’s behaviour was irrational or whether he was making rational decisions in the context to achieve his aims (Redacted finding into Death with Inquest: Tyler Jordan Cassidy—Part 2, 2011, p. 66, Section 321). Cassidy was shot by police at a skate park near Northcote Plaza in Melbourne’s north in December 2008 after he ran at police while brandishing two knives. He was killed just 73 seconds after police approached him. In her findings, the Coroner argued that assessing whether an individual is experiencing some form of mental disturbance or the effects of substance use—be it alcohol or drugs—should be factored into any risk assessment, and used as the basis of police decision-making about tactical options for communication with and approaches to distressed members of the public (Redacted finding into Death with Inquest: Tyler Jordan Cassidy—Part 2, 2011, p. 66, Section 322). After the fatal shooting of Tyler Cassidy, Victoria Police commissioned a confidential review of 10 shootings, including three that were fatal, which had occurred between 2005 and 2008. The resulting report, released under the Freedom of Information Act, revealed a series of systemic failings in police training and the police actions in each incident. Particularly problematic was the quick-resolution style of response adopted by police, accompanied by ‘yelling’ commands that presumed rationality on the part of the agitated individual, which served to inflame the situation (de Kretser, 2011; McKenzie & Baker, 2011). Likewise, although the coronial investigation into the Tyler Cassidy incident cleared the officers of any wrongdoing, it found that police training on

2 The Thin Blue Line of Mental Health

65

how to deal with vulnerable young people needed to be significantly improved within Victoria Police. Since 2014, all police recruits in the state of NSW have been required to complete a one-day mental health training program in identifying the signs of mental illness and learning how to de-escalate mental health crisis situations, including through improved communication. But the approach is not standardised across Australian policing jurisdictions, despite the fact that “[t]he potential for a police officer to engage with use-of-force decisions is inherent in the nature of the responsibilities of operational policing” (Davies, 2017, p. 494). Police decisions about how to intervene in mental health crisis situations are often made all the more complex by virtue of the fact that mental illness is frequently accompanied by multiple vulnerabilities (e.g. homelessness) and comorbid conditions such as substance use disorder. The combination of these factors can result in coercive responses from police because the symptoms of mental illness may be misinterpreted as bad behaviour rather than an individual’s inability to act rationally— the latter of which can inspire a more compassionate and conciliatory approach from police (de Tribolet-Hardy, Kesic, & Thomas, 2015; Martin & Thomas, 2015). In contrast to other police-citizen encounters, the behaviours demonstrated by mentally disturbed individuals are not wholly voluntary. They are more frequently caused and compounded by pre-existing medical conditions (Cordner, 2006). In particular, mentally ill individuals in crisis are more likely to have an impaired sense of judgement because of their distress, which can intensify as a consequence of a pre-existing paranoia towards police (which is quite common) or as a result of having police guns trained on them. In these situations, it is incredibly difficult for a mentally ill person to understand the level of threat they appear to exhibit towards police officers as a consequence of being in possession of a weapon, such as a knife or firearm (adopted in all likelihood for self-harm or self-protection at the acute onset of a psychosis). Nor are they easily able to appreciate the potentially dangerous consequences of a failure to follow police commands to discard such ‘weapons’. This was the finding of Coroner Paul MacMahon

66

K. Clifford

in the case of Michael Capel, who was fatally shot by police while experiencing a psychosis resulting from Capel’s failure to take his prescribed medication: The psychosis that he [Michael] was suffering probably meant that… when the police came to his home he probably believed that they were a threat towards him and his actions were, as part of his delusional beliefs, understood by him to be an attempt at self-protection. (Inquest into the death of Michael Vanquelef Capel , 2011, p. 9)

An individual in the midst of an acute mental health crisis can therefore appear to be actively resisting or ignoring a police officer when, really, they might not be able to understand the officer’s instructions (Cordner, 2006). This is not always readily recognised by frontline police, who often revert to a presumption of rationality. The default position for many police officers, where an offence has been committed and/or mental health history is unknown, has traditionally been to respond to the individual according to the principles of law enforcement rather than through a human rights approach, which considers the possibility of mental illness as a contributing factor to the individual’s disturbed behaviour and actions. As one police officer told me: We don’t know whether somebody’s got a mental illness or whether someone’s got a drug-induced psychosis or whether somebody’s faking, or whatever… say a mentally ill patient has assaulted another person; it’s not our job to establish whether that person’s got a mental illness. We’ve got to deal with the crime, so we would take action. It’s up to the courts and whoever else to determine later if that person had a mental illness, which would negate their criminal behaviour.

Where a weapon is evident, the focus and priority become the disarming of the individual, sometimes in ways that are inappropriate and which fail to factor in the strong indications of mental disturbance. For this reason, the risk of injury or death in a police-involved mental health crisis intervention is often greater for the mentally ill individual because police officers may “misinterpret their behaviour and demeanour”, given

2 The Thin Blue Line of Mental Health

67

that mental illness “can exacerbate a hostile demeanour or the appearance of resistance, depending on how the symptoms are manifested” (Kerr, Morabito, & Watson, 2010, p. 119; see also Morabito & Socia, 2015). These comments are supported by monitoring data from the National Deaths in Custody Program (NDICP) in Australia, which shows that over the 22-year period to 30 June 2011, more than half of the individuals with a mental illness who were shot by police had schizophrenia (n = 26). Of these, more than four in five (n = 21 or 81 per cent) were committing an offence at the time of the shooting. This means that attending police officers may not have known that the individual was experiencing schizophrenia; “all they are presented with is a person committing violent offences and behaving irrationally” (Lyneham & Chan, 2013, p. 132). A review by the Office of Police Integrity, Victoria (2012) found that “presumptions about rationality when dealing with obviously irrational people were recurring features” of the way that police respond to people who appear to have a mental illness (p. 31). This includes “constant yelling of commands at an irrational person” (Office of Police Integrity, Victoria, 2012, p. 31). In her findings to the Courtney Topic inquest, Deputy State Coroner Elizabeth Ryan concluded that, due to undiagnosed schizophrenia and the suspected effects of a psychotic episode on the day of her death, Topic was likely unable to comprehend police requests to put down the knife she was carrying before being shot (Inquest into the death of Courtney Topic, 2018). Responding police were found to have confronted Topic with their firearms drawn, shouting commands for her to disarm herself. Ryan suggested that a response from police that acknowledged Topic’s condition may have reduced the escalating harm of the situation, thereby diminishing the chances of a lethal outcome to the contact with police. Evidence presented at the coronial inquest confirmed that a “calmer and slower approach would have been more likely to secure Courtney’s compliance” (Inquest into the death of Courtney Topic, 2018, p. 21). But it is a misconception to think that mentally ill individuals are always easily identifiable. As Morabito (2014) points out, even people with severe mental health problems “are not constantly in active states of psychosis” (p. 12). So too, it would be an error to assume that police always occupy an adversarial role in response to mental health crisis interventions. Very

68

K. Clifford

often, they act as advocates. The problem is that the long-term prognosis for mentally ill individuals following the successful resolution of a mental health crisis, and the referral by police to mental health services, is still under-researched and therefore uncertain. It is also a story not frequently covered by news media. Bad news stories tend to get more traction. Anecdotal evidence at least from the lived experiences of people with mental health problems suggests that they continue to “struggle to develop long-term mental health plans after the crisis abates and officers depart” and that “the possibility of long-term solutions may not even exist” (Bonkiewicz, Moyer, Magdanz, & Walsh, 2018, p. 4). This is the case especially for frequent presenters (also colloquially referred to as ‘frequent flyers’) who, although small in number, occupy a disproportionately large amount of time and resources when they do come in contact with police—be it as offenders or alleged offenders, as victims, or through welfare checks. According to Donohue and Andrews (2013), the vast majority of mental health services do not have ongoing case management plans in place for these individuals. “It is our experience”, they write, “that police-referred mental health frequent presenters are seen by health as complex cases, treatment resistant, behaviourally hard to manage, clinically complex, and noncompliant with their treatment plans” (Donohue & Andrews, 2013, p. 97). Police requests to have these individuals actively case managed therefore requires intense lobbying, often with limited success. This is in spite of previous recommendations to governments that improvements in psychosocial rehabilitation services and ongoing outreach support of mentally ill individuals can “assist the return of vulnerable citizens…to an optimal level of independent functioning” and “better help them prevent situations of crisis” (Office of the Public Advocate—Queensland, 2005, p. 5).

Conclusion The effectiveness of police responses to mental health crisis incidents therefore “relies heavily on mental health services being available in the community” (Productivity Commission, 2019b, p. 77). Of course,

2 The Thin Blue Line of Mental Health

69

we cannot pretend that there is no role for police to play in these scenarios. There is a long history of their involvement already, and nothing to guarantee that mental health practitioners would always be able to successfully resolve a crisis situation in the community without police support in the more volatile of scenarios. But there is cause to question whether we have developed an overreliance on police, and whether their presence continues to be the proper and most appropriate form of first response. In other words, there is a growing appreciation that the structures and supports to help people in managing their mental health problems cannot be provided by police alone. Even with enhanced mental health training, there are “still limits to what the police can do” (Vitale, 2018, p. 87). Similar sentiments have been echoed by police administrators, who point out that it is impossible “to strive for change and better outcomes for mental health consumers, their carers and families whilst working in isolation” (Walton, 2018). Mental health consumers have fortified a voice in this process, but it has been a hardfought battle, and one that is not yet fully won. For reform to succeed, really, communities need to be prepared and able to “have a conversation about what the purpose of police is, and think hard about what jobs could be handled by other institutions” (Meares & Tyler, 2020). A joined-up response is required. If history has shown us anything it is that seeking to reform just one aspect of a problematic system, by targeting the police response, does not work. Police agencies have themselves reached similar conclusions, with more integrated models of mental health response being developed. Examples include the Western Australia (WA) Police Force Mental Health Co-Response model, where preliminary evaluative findings have shown benefits for resource allocation, the safety and well-being of police officers and mentally ill individuals, and interagency collaboration as part of the response to mental health crisis incidents (see Henry & Rajakaruna, 2018). The model is believed to be the first of its kind in Australia, incorporating mental health expertise at every stage of a policeinvolved mental health intervention; from the point of call dispatch to contact with a mentally ill individual at the scene and resolution of the incident (be it through arrest or treatment referral). As the authors of the WA Police Force Mental Health Co-response Evaluation Report explain,

70

K. Clifford

“because police are not and should not be expected to be trained mental health practitioners, there is a clear need to incorporate a mental health practitioner in crisis responses” (Henry & Rajakaruna, 2018, p. 10). In the WA Police Force Mental Health Co-Response model, it is the mental health practitioner, not police officers, who addresses the mental health aspect of the callout by providing advice to police on how to approach and de-escalate the situation. But achieving effective interagency communication, collaboration and coordination of this kind can be more challenging than first appears, notwithstanding the goodwill of the stakeholders involved. Even before this point, there are a range of systemic shortcomings and social and structural barriers that people encounter as part of their mental health journey, some of which can be attributed to why people end up in crisis in the first place. This includes the challenges of access to early intervention strategies, continuity of care for mentally unwell people and the social stigma still associated with mental illness, which can be a preventative factor in help-seeking. Then there is the absence of wholeof-government responses to mental illness as a global health problem. This is something that has now been underscored in the findings of numerous reports and inquiries. Not only do police “need training in recognising and communicating with those in mental health crisis”, but there is also “an urgent need to invest in appropriate mental health services that can prevent such crises or support people through them” (IPCC, 2016, p. v). Yet, mental health currently attracts only 2 per cent of the global healthcare budget and awareness and rhetoric continue to outstrip government funding. “While the priorities have been clear for some time”, writes McGorry (2009), “it will require strong national leadership and accountability and much more flexible models of funding to implement reform that impacts on the lives of everyday people”. While in Australia to debate the politics of mental health in a series of events hosted by youth mental health research centre Orygen and the University of New South Wales’ Centre for Ideas, Alastair Campbell, once the chief spin doctor to former British Prime Minister Tony Blair, challenged leaders to stop paying lip service to the idea of making mental health a national priority:

2 The Thin Blue Line of Mental Health

71

When Theresa May became prime minister in the UK, she said mental health was going to be a priority. When David Cameron came in, he said mental health was going to be a priority. The words are so easy…don’t just say it. (Campbell cited in ‘Boris, Brexit, and the Black Dog’, 2019)

Part of the problem, according to Campbell (2019), lies in the lack of ‘parity of esteem’ between physical and mental health and the fact that services are typically oriented towards mental illness rather than mental health; engaging people only once they reach crisis, and not always effectively. “No country has got this right yet”, he says. “When one does, others will follow” (Campbell, 2019). Policing is not immune to some of the same criticisms. Several of the mental health consumers I spoke to suggested that increased interactions prior to and outside of crisis may help to foster improved mutual understandings between police and those with mental illness. As one person recommended: They [the police] should have a community liaison officer for mental health where… mental health [consumers can]…go into the academy and talk to the officers, if somebody would be willing to do that in that area.

While breaking down the stigma of mental illness is important, says Campbell, it is not nearly as important as dealing with the scale of the problem. He argues: Go and sit not just in psychiatric hospitals, but family courts, visit a prison, and ask yourself how many of the ghastly, costly stories you see might have been prevented if we had had mental health front of mind rather than waiting for mental illness. (Campbell, 2019)

Police attempts to meet the challenges of managing mental illness in the community, while commendable, therefore, come with several caveats. For one, increasing police competence as a result of the commitment to training officers to recognise and respond more effectively to mentally ill individuals in crisis should not be viewed as an “alternative to filling service gaps within the health and disability support service

72

K. Clifford

systems” (Victoria Police, 2008, p. 21). Nor should it be seen as a solution to the problems deeply entrenched within Australia’s mental health system (Sced, 2006). It should also not result in a wholesale adoption of the responsibilities of other service sectors by police, or come at the expense of developing partnerships with many of these mental healthcare providers and advocates. In other words, we need to ensure that there is investment made in “the types of services that are likely to ameliorate the social issues that can compromise personal and/or community safety… This is what underpins the concept of justice reinvestment” (Cunneen, 2020). This does not necessarily equate, however, to a wholesale adoption of the rallying cry to ‘defund the police’, witnessed in the aftermath of the death of George Floyd in the United States in May 2020. Neither should it translate to the technological solutionism that has preoccupied strategies for reducing the police use of lethal force in mental health crisis interventions over recent decades.

References Allen, R., & Nairn, R. G. (1997). Media depiction of mental illness: An analysis of the use of dangerousness. Australian and New Zealand Journal of Psychiatry, 31(3), 375–381. Altheide, D. (2002). Creating fear: News and the construction of crisis. New York: Aldine De Gruyter. Anasseril, E. D. (2004). Commentary: Decision-making by front line service providers—Attitudinal or contextual. Journal of the American Academy of Psychiatry and Law, 32(4), 386–389. Andrews, G., Hall, W., Teeson, M., & Henderson, S. (1999). The mental health of Australians. Canberra, ACT: Mental Health Branch, Australian Commonwealth Department of Health and Aged Care. Australian Bureau of Statistics. (1998). Mental health and wellbeing: Profile of adults, Australia, 1997 . Cat. No. 4326.0. Canberra, ACT: Australian Bureau of Statistics.

2 The Thin Blue Line of Mental Health

73

Australian Bureau of Statistics. (2007). National survey of mental health and wellbeing: Summary of results, 2007 . Cat. No. 4326.0. Canberra, ACT: Australian Bureau of Statistics. Australian Bureau of Statistics. (2018). Australian demographic statistics, Dec 2017 . Cat. No. 3103.0. Canberra, ACT: Australian Bureau of Statistics. Australian Institute of Health and Welfare. (2015). The health of Australia’s prisoners 2015. Cat. no. PHE 207. Canberra, ACT: AIHW. Australian Institute of Health and Welfare. (2016). Australian burden of disease study: Impact and causes of illness and death in Australia in 2011. Australian Burden of Disease Study series no. 3. BOD 4. Canberra, ACT: AIHW. Barnhorst, A. (2019, April 26). The empty promise of suicide prevention. The New York Times. Retrieved May 22, 2019, from https://www.nytimes. com/2019/04/26/opinion/sunday/suicide-prevention.html?fbclid=IwAR25 B3IBlrnANYZ2YT_8oTpsQUDCVofxogUAjcjrhlw_U53mvzvSaL37ZFI. Barron, S. (2013). Police officer mental illness, suicide, and the effects of a policing organisation. In D. Chappell (Ed.), Policing and the mentally ill: International perspectives (pp. 247–279). Boca Raton, FL: CRC Press/Taylor & Francis. Bartkowiak-Théron, I., & Asquith, N. L. (2017). Conceptual divides and practice synergies in law enforcement and public health: Some lessons from policing vulnerability in Australia. Policing & Society: An International Journal of Research and Policy, 27 (3), 276–288. Beck, J. C., White, K. A., & Gage, B. (1991). Emergency psychiatric assessment of violence. American Journal of Psychiatry, 148(11), 1562–1565. Belcher, J., & Al-Yaman, F. (2007). Prisoner health in Australia: Contemporary information collection and a way forward . Cat. No. PHE 94. Canberra, ACT: Australian Institute of Health and Welfare. Bell, S., & Palmer-Conn, S. (2018). Suspicious minds: Police attitudes to mental ill health. International Journal of Law and Public Administration, 1(2), 25–40. Bittner, E. (1967). Police discretion in emergency apprehension of mentally ill persons. Social Problems, 14 (3), 278–292. Blood, R. W., Putnis, P., & Pirkis, J. (2002). Mental illness as violence: A news frame analysis of the reporting and portrayal of mental health and illness in Australian media. Australian Journal of Communication, 29 (2), 59–82. Bonkiewicz, L. A., Moyer, K., Magdanz, C., & Walsh, J. (2018). Keeping it REAL: Assisting individuals after a police-abated mental health crisis. Police Quarterly, 21(4), 486–508.

74

K. Clifford

‘Boris, Brexit, and the Black Dog’. (2019, July 22). Q&A. Australian Broadcasting Corporation [Transcript of television broadcast]. Retrieved July 24, 2019, from https://www.abc.net.au/qanda/2019-22-07/11310416. Bradbury, J. F., Ireland, M., & Stasa, H. (2014). Mental health emergency transport: The pot-holed road to care. Medical Journal of Australia, 200 (6), 348–351. Brown, M. (2018b, August 23). Policing and mental health: Fixing symptoms and ignoring problems. Melbourne Social Equity Institute and Forensicare Public Lecture, University of Melbourne, Australia. Campbell, A. (2019, July 22). Pollie-waffle on mental health makes me want to scream. The Sydney Morning Herald . Retrieved July 23, 2019, from https://www.smh.com.au/national/how-scott-morrison-canshow-boris-johnson-what-leadership-means-20190719-p528yq.html. Carroll, M. (2005, December). Mental-health system overburdening police. Police Journal , 18–22. Chappell, D. (2008). Policing and emotionally disturbed persons: Disseminating knowledge, removing stigma and enhancing performance. Australian Journal of Forensic Services, 40 (1), 37–48. Chappell, D. (2014). Firearms regulation, violence and the mentally ill: A contemporary Antipodean appraisal. International Journal of Law and Psychiatry, 37 (4), 399–408. Clayfield, J. C., Fletcher, K. E., & Grudzinskas, A. J., Jr. (2011). Development and validation of the mental health attitude survey for police. Community Mental Health Journal, 47 (6), 742–751. College of Policing. (2015). College of policing analysis: Estimating demand on the police service. Retrieved August 24, 2017, from https://www.college.pol ice.uk/About/Pages/Demand-Analysis-Report.aspx. Collins, L. (2019, February 3). ‘Pill shaming’ and stigma causes regional Australians to battle mental illness for longer. ABC News. Retrieved February 3, 2019, from https://www.abc.net.au/news/2019-02-03/pillshame-causing-longer-battles-with-mental-illness/10722406. Commonwealth of Australia. (2010). Reporting suicide and mental illness: A mindframe resource for media professionals (Revised ed.). Canberra, ACT: Commonwealth of Australia and Hunter Institute of Mental Health. Cordner, G. (2006). People with mental illness: Problem-oriented guides for police problem-specific guides series. Washington, DC: U.S. Department of Justice, Office of Community Oriented Policing Services.

2 The Thin Blue Line of Mental Health

75

Corrigan, P. W., Markowitz, F. E., Watson, A. C., Rowan, D., & Kubiak, M. A. (2003). An attribution model of public discrimination towards persons with mental illness. Journal of Health and Social Behavior, 44 (2), 162–179. Corrigan, P. W., River, L. P., Lundin, R. K., Penn, D. L., Uphoff-Wasowski, K., Campion, J., et al. (2001). Three strategies for changing attributions about severe mental illness. Schizophrenia Bulletin, 27 (2), 187–195. Cotton, D. (2004). The attitudes of Canadian police officers toward the mentally ill. International Journal of Law and Psychiatry, 27 (2), 135–146. Cunneen, C. (2020, June 10). Defunding the police could bring positive change in Australia: These communities are showing the way. The Conversation. Retrieved June 11, 2020, from https://theconversation.com/defund ing-the-police-could-bring-positive-change-in-australia-these-communitiesare-showing-the-way-140333. Davies, A. J. (2017). Shoot/do not shoot—What are the influences? The police recruit perspective. Policing and Society: an International Journal of Research and Policy, 27 (5), 494–507. de Kretser, H. (2011, March 23). Poor training and bad tactics to blame for police shootings. The Sydney Morning Herald . Retrieved June 10, 2019, from https://www.smh.com.au/politics/federal/poor-training-andbad-tactics-to-blame-for-police-shootings-20110322-1c54q.html. de Tribolet-Hardy, F., Kesic, D., & Thomas, S. D. M. (2015). Police management of mental health crisis situations in the community: Status quo, current gaps and future directions. Policing and Society: an International Journal of Research and Policy, 25 (3), 294–307. Donohue, D. (2010). NSW police force mental health intervention team corporate spokesperson’s message. Retrieved September 2, 2010, from http://www.police. nsw.gov.au/community_issues/mental_health. Donohue, D. (2014). Corporate spokesperson’s message. NSW Police Force website. Retrieved March 9, 2015, from http://www.police.nsw.gov.au/com munity_issues/mental_health. Donohue, D., & Andrews, G. (2013). NSW police force mental health intervention team: Forging a new path forward in mental health and policing in the community. In D. Chappell (Ed.), Policing and the mentally ill: International perspectives (pp. 65–104). Boca Raton, FL: CRC Press/Taylor & Francis. Donohue, D., Murphy, S., & Cowan, D. (2009). NSW police force mental health intervention team training manual . Sydney, NSW: NSW Police Force.

76

K. Clifford

Engel, R. S., & Silver, E. (2001). Policing mentally-disordered suspects: A re-examination of the criminalization hypothesis. Criminology, 39 (2), 225–252. Ericson, R. V., & Haggerty, K. D. (1997). Policing the risk society. Toronto: University of Toronto Press. Evershed, N., & Laughland, O. (2013, May 30). Almost half of Australian people shot dead by police were mentally ill. The Guardian. Retrieved August 29, 2018, from https://www.theguardian.com/world/2013/may/30/ half-shot-police-mentally-ill. Ewald, F. (1993). Two infinities of risk. In B. Massumi (Ed.), The politics of everyday fear (pp. 221–228). Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press. Expert Advisory Committee on Information Sharing in Mental Health Crisis Situations. (2000). Toward a national approach to information sharing in mental health crisis situations [Wooldridge Report]. Canberra, ACT: Mental Health and Special Programs Branch, Commonwealth Department of Health and Aged Care. Frueh, B. C., Knapp, R. G., Cusack, K. J., Grubaugh, A. L., Sauvageot, J. A., Cousins, V. C., et al. (2005). Patients’ reports of traumatic or harmful experiences within the psychiatric setting. Psychiatric Services, 56 (9), 1123– 1133. Fulwiler, C., Grossman, B., Forbes, C., & Ruthazer, R. (1997). Early-onset substance abuse and community violence by outpatients with chronic mental illness. Psychiatric Services, 48(9), 1181–1194. Godfredson, J. W., Thomas, S. D. M., Ogloff, J. R. P., & Luebbers, S. (2011). Police perceptions of their encounters with individuals experiencing mental illness: A Victorian survey. Australian & New Zealand Journal of Criminology, 44 (2), 180–195. Haigh, C. B., Kringen, A. L., & Kringen, J. A. (2020). Mental illness stigma: Limitations of crisis intervention team training. Criminal Justice Policy Review, 31(1), 42–57. Hails, J., & Borum, R. (2003). Police training and specialized approaches to respond to people with mental illnesses. Crime and Delinquency, 49 (1), 52– 61. Harris, B., Duggan, M., Batterham, P., et al. (2018). Australia’s mental and physical health tracker. Melbourne: Australian Health Policy Collaboration. Retrieved August 12, 2018, from https://www.vu.edu.au/sites/default/files/ australias-mental-and-physical-health-tracker-report-card.pdf. Harvey, S. B., Deady, M., Wang, M. J., Mykletun, A., Butterworth, P., Christensen, H., et al. (2017). Is the prevalence of mental illness increasing in

2 The Thin Blue Line of Mental Health

77

Australia? Evidence from national health surveys and administrative data, 2001–2014. Medical Journal of Australia, 206 (11), 490–493. Hayman-White, K., Sgro, S., & Happell, B. (2006). Mental health in Australia: The ideal versus financial reality and the role of the mental health nurse. Australian e-Journal for the Advancement of Mental Health, 5 (1). Retrieved May 11, 2008, from www.auseinet.com/journal/vol5iss1/hayman-white.pdf. Henry, P., & Rajakaruna, N. (2018, March 29). WA police force mental health co-response evaluation report. Perth, WA: The Sellenger Centre for Research in Law, Justice and Social Change, Edith Cowan University. Hermant, N. (2018, August 12). NDIS transition prompts fears for community mental health services, advocates expect reduced quality of care. ABC News. Retrieved August 12, 2018, from http://www.abc.net.au/news/201808-12/fears-over-ndis-takeover-of-community-mental-health-services/101 06720. Herrington, V., & Clifford, K. (2012). Policing mental illness: Examining the police role in addressing mental ill-health. In I. Bartkowiak-Théron & N. L. Asquith (Eds.), Policing vulnerability (pp. 117–131). Annandale: Federation Press. Herrington, V., Clifford, K., Lawrence, P. F., Ryle, S., & Pope, R. (2009). The impact of the NSW police force mental health intervention team: Final evaluation report. Sydney, NSW: Charles Sturt University Centre for Inland Health and Australian Graduate School of Policing. Hobday, L. (2018, May 7). Patients lives at risk after NDIS funding redirected, mental health Victoria says. ABC News. Retrieved August 12, 2018, from http://www.abc.net.au/news/2018-05-07/ndis-mental-health-fundingchanges-putting-lives-at-risk/9732596. Hollander, Y., Lee, S. J., Tahtalian, S., Young, D., & Jayashri, K. (2012). Challenges relating to the interface between crisis mental health clinicians and police when engaging with people with a mental illness. Psychiatry, Psychology and Law, 19 (3), 402–411. Inquest into the deaths of Anthony William Young; Shaun Basil Kumeroa; Edward Wayne Logan; Laval Donovan Zimmer; Troy Martin Foster. (2017, October 20). Coroner’s Court, Brisbane. https://www.courts.qld.gov.au/__data/ass ets/pdf_file/0005/540590/cif-recommendationspoliceshootings-20171020. pdf. Inquest into the death of Courtney Topic. (2018, July 30). NSW Coroner’s Court, Glebe. https://coroners.nsw.gov.au/documents/findings/2018/Cou rtney%20Topic%20findings.pdf.

78

K. Clifford

Inquest into the death of Michael Vanquelef Capel . (2011, September 8). Newcastle Court House, NSW. IPCC. (2016, March). Police use of force: Evidence from complaints, investigations and public perception. London: Independent Police Complaints Commission. Jablensky, A., & Jones, P. (1998). Invited commentaries on: Premorbid adjustment and personality in people with schizophrenia. British Journal of Psychiatry, 172(4), 314–315. Johnston, J., & Breit, R. (2010). Towards a narratology of court reporting. Media International Australia, 137 (1), 47–57. Keay, S., & Kirby, S. (2017). Defining vulnerability: From the conceptual to the operational. Policing: A Journal of Policy and Practice, 12(4), 428–438. Kerr, A. N., Morabito, M., & Watson, A. C. (2010). Police encounters, mental illness, and injury: An exploratory investigation. Journal of Police Crisis Negotiations, 10 (1), 116–132. Kimhi, R., Barak, Y., Gutman, J., Melamed, Y., Zohar, M., & Barak, I. (1998). Police attitudes toward mental illness and psychiatric patients in Israel. Journal of the American Academy of Psychiatry and the Law, 26 (4), 625–630. Kitchener, B. A., & Jorm, A. F. (2002). Mental health first aid manual . Melbourne, VIC: ORYGEN Research Centre. Knaus, C. (2018, January 17). Fears those with severe mental health issues are falling through NDIS cracks. The Guardian. Retrieved August 12, 2018, from https://www.theguardian.com/australia-news/2018/jan/17/alm ost-75-of-people-on-mental-health-programs-left-without-ndis-support. Lamb, H. R., Weinberger, L. E., & DeCuir, W. J., Jr. (2002). The police and mental health. Psychiatric Services, 53(10), 1266–1271. Lawrence, D., Kyron, M., Rikkers, W., Bartlett, J., Hafekost, K., Goodsell, B., & Cunneen, R. (2018). Answering the call: National survey of the mental health and wellbeing of police and emergency services: Detailed report. Perth: Graduate School of Education, The University of Western Australia. Link, B. G., Andrews, H., & Cullen, F. T. (1992). The violent and illegal behavior of mental patients reconsidered. American Sociological Review, 57 (3), 275–292. Lipson, G. S., Turner, J. T., & Kasper, R. (2010). A strategic approach to police interactions involving persons with mental illness. Journal of Police Crisis Negotiations, 10 (1), 30–38. Livingston, J. D., Desmarais, S. L., Verdun-Jones, S., Parent, R., Michalak, E., & Brink, J. (2014). Perceptions and experiences of people with mental

2 The Thin Blue Line of Mental Health

79

illness regarding their interactions with police. International Journal of Law and Psychiatry, 37 (4), 334–340. Lyneham, M., & Chan, A. (2013). Deaths in custody in Australia to 30 June 2011: Twenty years of monitoring by the National Deaths in Custody Program since the Royal Commission into Aboriginal Deaths in Custody. Canberra, ACT: Australian Institute of Criminology. Retrieved June 10, 2015, from http://www.aic.gov.au/publications/mr/mr20. Martin, T., & Thomas, S. (2015). Police officers’ views of their encounters with people with personality disorder. Journal of Psychiatric and Mental Health Nursing, 22(2), 125–132. Mawby, R. C. (2002). Policing images: Policing, communication and legitimacy. Cullompton, Devon: Willan Publishing. Mazerolle, L., Antrobus, E., Bennett, S., & Tyler, T. R. (2013). Shaping citizen perceptions of police legitimacy: A randomized field trial of procedural justice. Criminology, 51(1), 33–63. McDaniel, J. L. M. (2019). Reconciling mental health, public policing and police accountability. The Police Journal: Theory, Practice and Principles, 92(1), 72–94. McGlen, I. (2008). The ABC of mental health. Emergency Nurse, 16 (7), 25– 27. McGorry, P. (2009, February 18). Mental health reform needs urgent reform. The Sydney Morning Herald . Retrieved July 15, 2017, from https://www. smh.com.au/politics/federal/mental-health-reform-needs-urgent-care-200 90217-8a81.html. McKenzie, N., & Baker, R. (2011, March 23). Police shootings scrutinised. The Age. Retrieved May 15, 2011, from http://www.theage.com.au/victoria/ police-shootings-scrutinised-20110322-1c589.html. McLean, K., Wolfe, S. E., Rojek, J., Alpert, G. P., & Smith, M. R. (2020). Randomized controlled trial of social interaction police training. Criminology & Public Policy, 19 (3), 805–832. Meares, T. L., & Tyler, T. R. (2020, June 8). The first step is figuring out what police are for. The Atlantic. Retrieved June 9, 2020, from https://www.theatlantic.com/ideas/archive/2020/06/first-step-figuringout-what-police-are/612793/. Mendias, C., & Kehoe, E. J. (2006). Engagement of policing ideals and their relationship to the exercise of discretionary powers. Criminal Justice and Behavior, 33(1), 70–92.

80

K. Clifford

Mindframe National Media Initiative. (2014). Mental illness & suicide in the media: A mindframe resource for police. Canberra, ACT: Commonwealth of Australia. Mitchell, G. (2008). Preventing and resolving mental health crisis health situations by working collaboratively [Churchill Fellowship Report]. Retrieved January 29, 2019, from https://www.churchilltrust.com.au/fellows/detail/3231/Mic hael+MITCHELL. Monahan, J., & Steadman, H. (1994). Violence and mental disorder: Developments in risk assessment. Chicago: The University of Chicago Press. Monahan, J., Steadman, H. J., Silver, E., et al. (2001). Rethinking risk assessment: The MacArthur study of mental disorder and violence. Oxford, UK: Oxford University Press. Morabito, M. S. (2014). Policing vulnerable populations. In M. D. Reisig & R. J. Kane (Eds.), The Oxford handbook of police and policing (pp. 1–18). Oxford: Oxford University Press. Morabito, M. S., & Socia, K. M. (2015). Is dangerousness a myth? Injuries and police encounters with people with mental illnesses. Criminology & Public Policy, 14 (2), 253–276. Morgan, M., & Paterson, C. (2019). ‘It’s mental health, not mental police’: A human rights approach to mental health triage and section 136 of the mental health act 1983. Policing: A Journal of Policy and Practice, 13(2), 123–133. Morris, G. (2006). Mental health issues and the media: An introduction for health professionals. London and New York: Routledge. Mulvey, E. P. (1994). Assessing the evidence of a link between mental illness and violence. Hospital & Community Psychiatry, 45 (7), 663–668. National Mental Health Commission. (2014). Contributing lives, thriving communities: Report of the national review of mental health programmes and services—Summary. Sydney: National Mental Health Commission. Retrieved August 12, 2018, from http://www.mentalhealthcommission.gov. au/our-reports/our-national-report-cards/2014-contributing-lives-review. aspx. Nobles, R., & Schiff, D. (2004). A story of miscarriage: Law in the media. Journal of Law and Society, 31(2), 221–244. NSW Health & NSW Police Force. (2018). NSW Health-NSW Police Force memorandum of understanding 2018. North Sydney: NSW Ministry of Health. Retrieved September 19, 2018, from https://www.health.nsw.gov. au/mentalhealth/resources/Publications/mou-health-police-2018.pdf.

2 The Thin Blue Line of Mental Health

81

NSW Police Force. (2017). NSW Police Force annual report 2016–17 . Sydney, NSW: NSW Police Force Public Affairs Branch. Retrieved June 22, 2018, from www.police.nsw.gov.au. Office of Police Integrity, Victoria. (2012). Policing people who appear to be mentally ill . Melbourne: Office of Police Integrity, Victoria. Retrieved June 12, 2015, from http://www.parliament.vic.gov.au/file_uploads/Policing_peo ple_who_appear_to_be_mentally_pyt8YbmN.pdf. Office of the Public Advocate—Queensland. (2005, March). Preserving life and dignity in distress: Responding to critical mental health incidents. Brisbane, QLD: Department of Justice and Attorney-General, Queensland Government. Ogloff, J. R. P., Thomas, S. D. M., Luebbers, S., Baksheev, G., Elliott, I., Godfredson, J., et al. (2013). Policing services with mentally ill people: Developing greater understanding and best practice. Australian Psychologist, 48(1), 57–68. Patch, P. C., & Arrigo, B. A. (1999). Police officer attitudes and use of discretion in situations involving the mentally ill: The need to narrow the focus. International Journal of Law and Psychiatry, 22(1), 23–35. Perez, A., Leifman, S., & Estrada, A. (2003). Reversing the criminalization of mental illness. Crime and Delinquency, 49 (1), 62–78. Philo, G., Henderson, L., & McLaughlin, G. (1994). Mass media representations of mental health/illness. Glasgow: Glasgow University Media Group. Pinto, S. M. (2004). Police response to mentally ill persons in crisis. Unpublished doctoral thesis, The Chicago School of Professional Psychology. Pirkis, J., Blood, R. W., Dare, A., & Holland, K. (2008). The media monitoring project changes in media reporting of suicide and mental health and illness in Australia: 2000/01–2006/07 . Canberra, ACT: Commonwealth of Australia. Pirkis, J., Blood, R. W., Francis, C., Putnis, P., Burgess, P., Morley, B., et al. (2002). The media monitoring project: A baseline description of how the Australian media report and portray suicide and mental health and illness. Canberra, ACT: Commonwealth Department of Health and Aged Care. Police Federation of Australia. (2005, May 10). Submission to the senate select committee on mental health. Canberra, ACT: Police Federation of Australia. Pratt, J. (1995, June 1). Dangerousness in historical context. Paper presented at the Public Seminar on Reason, Disorder and Dangerousness, Institute of Criminology, University of Sydney, State Library of New South Wales.

82

K. Clifford

Productivity Commission. (2019a, January). The social and economic benefits of improving mental health [Issues Paper]. Canberra, ACT: Australian Government. Retrieved June 3, 2019, from https://www.pc.gov.au/inquiries/cur rent/mental-health/issues. Productivity Commission. (2019b, October). Mental health: Productivity commission draft report volume 1. Canberra: Commonwealth of Australia. Retrieved October 31, 2019, from https://www.pc.gov.au/inquiries/current/ mental-health/draft. Queensland Forensic Mental Health Service. (2016). Police communications centre mental health liaison service: Evaluation report. Retrieved August 20, 2018, from https://www.qmhc.qld.gov.au/documents/evaluationreportpolic ecommunicationscentrementalhealthliaisonservicepdf. Queensland Government. (2018). Inquest into the death of Bradley Karl Coolwell [Government response to coronial recommendations]. Retrieved August 20, 2018, from https://www.justice.qld.gov.au/__data/assets/pdf_file/0009/564 840/qgr-coolwell-bk-20180501.pdf. Quinn, B., Laville, S., & Duncan, P. (2016, January 28). Mental health crisis takes huge and increasing share of police time. The Guardian. Retrieved September 7, 2017, from https://www.theguardian.com/uk-news/2016/jan/ 27/mental-health-crisis-huge-increasing-share-police-time-40. Redacted finding into Death with Inquest: Tyler Jordan Cassidy—Part 2. (2011, November 23). Coroner’s Court of Victoria, Melbourne. https://www.cor onerscourt.vic.gov.au/sites/default/files/2018-12/tylercassidypart2_554208. pdf. Robotham, J. (2008, December 4). Police to stop transfer of patients. The Sydney Morning Herald . Retrieved May 6, 2009, from http://www.smh. com.au/news/national/police-to-stop-transfer-of-patients/2008/12/03/122 8257139023.html. Rosenberg, S., Hickie, I., & Mendoza, J. (2009). National mental health reform: Less talk, more action. The Medical Journal of Australia, 190 (4), 193–195. Rosenman, S. (1994). Mental health law: An idea whose time has passed. Australian and New Zealand Journal of Psychiatry, 28(4), 560–565. Royal Commission into Victoria’s Mental Health System. (2019a). Royal Commission into Victoria’s mental health system on Thursday, 11 July 2019 at 10.00 am (Day 8) [Transcript of public hearings]. Melbourne Town Hall, Melbourne, VIC. Retrieved July 17, 2019, from https://rcvmhs.vic.gov.au/ hearings.

2 The Thin Blue Line of Mental Health

83

Royal Commission into Victoria’s Mental Health System. (2019b, November). Interim report. Parl Paper No. 87 (2018–2019). Melbourne: State of Victoria. Ruiz, J., & Miller, C. (2004). An exploratory study of Pennsylvania police officers’ perceptions of dangerousness and their ability to manage persons with mental illness. Police Quarterly, 7 (3), 359–371. SANE Australia. (2016). Fact vs myth: Mental health issues & violence [Webpage]. Retrieved August 2, 2020, from https://www.sane.org/inform ation-stories/facts-and-guides/fvm-mental-illness-and-violence. Sced, M. (2006). Mental illness in the community: The role of police. ACPR Issues No. 3. Retrieved October 9, 2006, from http://www.acpr.gov.au/pdf/ Iss_3%20Mental.pdf. Senate Select Committee on Mental Health. (2006). A national approach to mental health—From crisis to community (First report). Canberra, ACT: Commonwealth of Australia. Short, T. B. R., MacDonald, C., Luebbers, S., Ogloff, J. R. P., & Thomas, S. D. M. (2014). The nature of police involvement in mental health transfers. Police Practice and Research: An International Journal, 15 (4), 336–348. Soomro, S., & Yanos, P. T. (2019). Predictors of mental health stigma among police officers: The role of trauma and PTSD. Journal of Police and Criminal Psychology, 34 (2), 175–183. Soyka, M. (2000). Substance misuse, psychiatric disorder and violent and disturbed behaviour. British Journal of Psychiatry, 176 (4), 345–350. Springvale Monash Legal Service Inc. (2005). Police training and mental illness—A time for change. Springvale, VIC: Springvale Monash Legal Service Inc. Retrieved August 4, 2006, from http://www.smls.com.au. Stanford, S. (2012). Critically reflecting on being ‘at risk’ and ‘a risk’ in vulnerable people policing. In I. Bartkowiak-Théron & N. L. Asquith (Eds.), Policing vulnerability (pp. 20–32). Annandale: Federation Press. Steadman, H. J., Mulvey, E. P., Monahan, J., Robbins, P. C., Appelbaum, P. S., Grisso, T., et al. (1998). Violence by people discharged from acute psychiatric inpatient facilities and by others in the same neighborhoods. Archives of General Psychiatry, 55 (5), 393–401. Stoughton, S. W. (2014, December 12). How police training contributes to avoidable deaths. The Atlantic. Retrieved August 3, 2020, from https:// www.theatlantic.com/national/archive/2014/12/police-gun-shooting-tra ining-ferguson/383681/. Swanson, J., Estroff, S., Swartz, M., Borum, R., Lachicotte, W., Zimmer, C., et al. (1997). Violence and severe mental disorder in clinical and community

84

K. Clifford

populations: The effects of psychotic symptoms, comorbidity, and lack of treatment. Psychiatry, 60 (1), 1–22. Syme, H. (2002, September 4). Mental health and the criminal justice system. Paper presented at a Public Seminar on Mental Health and the Criminal Justice System, Institute of Criminology, University of Sydney, Australia. Taylor, A. (2017, April 28). Mental health in Australia needs reform, not just more money: Ian Hickie. The Sydney Morning Herald . Retrieved September 7, 2017, from http://www.smh.com.au/national/health/mental-health-inaustralia-needs-reform-not-just-more-money-ian-hickie-20170428-gvugth. html. Teller, J. L. S., Munetz, M. R., Gil, K. M., & Ritter, C. (2006). Crisis intervention team training for police officers responding to mental disturbance calls. Psychiatric Services, 57 (2), 232–237. Teplin, L. A., & Pruett, N. S. (1992). Police as streetcorner psychiatrists: Managing the mentally ill. International Journal of Law and Psychiatry, 15 (2), 139–156. Torrey, E. F. (1994). Violent behaviour by individuals with serious mental illness. Hospital & Community Psychiatry, 45 (7), 653–662. University of Sydney & Community Mental Health Australia. (2018). Mind the gap: The National Disability Insurance Scheme and psychosocial disability— Final report: Stakeholder identified gaps and solutions. Sydney: University of Sydney Policy Lab & Community Mental Health Australia. Retrieved August 12, 2018, from https://sydney.edu.au/news-opinion/news/2018/01/ 30/report-identifies-ndis-gaps-for-people-living-with-mental-illnes.html. Üstün, T. B. (1999). The global burden of mental disorders. American Journal of Public Health, 89 (9), 1315–1318. van Dijk, A., & Crofts, N. (2017). Law enforcement and public health as an emerging field. Policing & Society, 27 (3), 261–275. van Dijk, A. J., Herrington, V., Crofts, N., Breunig, R., Burris, S., Sullivan, H., et al. (2019). Law enforcement and public health: Recognition and enhancement of joined-up solutions. Lancet, 393, 287–294. Victoria Police. (2008). Victoria Police submission on the Green Paper: Because mental health matters. Melbourne: Victoria Police Centre. Retrieved May 6, 2009, from http://www.health.vic.gov.au/mentalhealth/mhactreview/submis sions.htm. Victoria Police. (2016, May). Victoria Police mental health review: An independent review into the mental health and wellbeing of Victoria Police employees. Melbourne: Victoria Police. Retrieved July 28, 2019, from https://www.pol ice.vic.gov.au/mental-health-strategy.

2 The Thin Blue Line of Mental Health

85

Vitale, A. S. (2018). The end of policing. London and New York: Verso. Wahl, O. (1992). Mass media images of mental illness: A review of the literature. Journal of Community Psychology, 20 (4), 343–352. Wahl, O. (2003). News media portrayal of mental illness: Implications for public policy. American Behavioral Scientist, 46 (12), 1594–1600. Walton, M. (2017). Spokesperson’s message: Detective superintendent Mark Walton, corporate spokesperson—Mental health. Retrieved August 24, 2017, from http://www.police.nsw.gov.au/community_safety/your_comm unity/mental_health. Walton, M. (2018). Corporate sponsor’s message: Assistant commissioner Mark Walton APM, corporate sponsor—Mental health. Retrieved July 18, 2019, from https://www.police.nsw.gov.au/safety_and_prevention/your_c ommunity/mental_health. Watson, A. C., & Angell, B. (2007). Applying procedural justice theory to law enforcement’s response to persons with mental illness. Psychiatric Services, 58(6), 787–793. Watson, A. C., Corrigan, P. W., & Ottati, V. (2004). Police officers’ attitudes toward and decisions about persons with mental illness. Psychiatric Services, 55 (1), 49–53. Wesley Mission. (2007). Living with mental illness: Attitudes, experiences and challenges. Retrieved May 8, 2008, from http://www.wesleymission.org.au/ News/research/Mental_Health. Wood, J. D., & Watson, A. C. (2017). Improving police interventions in mental health-related encounters: Past, present and future. Policing and Society: an International Journal of Research and Policy, 27 (3), 289–299. Wood, J. D., Watson, A. C., & Fulambarker, A. J. (2017). The “gray zone” of police work during mental health encounters: Findings from an observational study in Chicago. Police Quarterly, 20 (1), 81–105. Worden, E. (1989). Situational and attitudinal explanations of police behavior: A theoretical reappraisal and empirical assessment. Law and Society Review, 23(4), 667–711. World Health Organisation. (2017). Depression and other common mental disorders: Global health estimates. Geneva: World Health Organisation. Licence: CC BY-NC-SA 3.0 IGO. Wylie, J. R., & Wilson, C. (1990). Deinstitutionalisation of the mentally disabled and its impact on police services. Payneham, SA: National Police Research Unit.

3 The Search for Solutions to the Problems of Policing Mental Ill-Health

While frustrations may prevail over the frontline responsibilities police have been asked to shoulder in response to managing mental ill-health in the community, there is now a widespread acceptance that crisis intervention is part of the ‘core business’ of policing practice. Being part of core business, people expect police to get these responsibilities right. But as history has shown, this has not always occurred, even though it may have been the preferred outcome among those involved—police included. Over the last two decades, a range of solutions have been advanced to address the complexities of the relationship between policing and mental ill-health in an attempt to reduce the number of fatal mental health crisis interventions in Australia and elsewhere, as well as the incidence of police use of force more generally. Among the more unconventional of these solutions has been an acknowledgement of the deficiencies of deinstitutionalisation and a call from some quarters to wind back or reverse these reforms (see Mullet cited in Moor, 2005)—although, this has mostly met with resistance. (Others may argue that this has already occurred, albeit through a slightly different form of institutionalisation, considering the number of mentally ill people in prison.) The disarming of © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 K. Clifford, Policing, Mental Illness and Media, Palgrave Studies in Crime, Media and Culture, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-61490-4_3

87

88

K. Clifford

police is another strategy that has been supported as a means by which to reduce the potential for fatal outcomes to mental health crisis interventions, with the low numbers of police-involved shootings in countries such as New Zealand and the United Kingdom—where frontline officers are not routinely armed—often cited as evidence of the proposal’s merits. Organisations such as the United States-based non-profit, the Treatment Advocacy Center, maintain that this latter option remains “the single most immediate, practical strategy for reducing fatal police shootings” of people with mental illness (Fuller, Lamb, Biasotti, & Snook, 2015, p. 1). The organisation is not alone in its thinking. In August 2019, after the fatal police-involved shooting of another mentally ill man in regional Australia, Greens MP David Shoebridge took the debate a step further, arguing that police were not adequately prepared as frontline responders to mental health crisis incidents in the community. He claimed significant statewide investment was needed for 24-hour mental health crisis teams, who were not police, to be equipped as first responders able to de-escalate such incidents (Millington, Rubbo, & Thomas, 2019). Such sentiments have garnered support in other jurisdictions, including the United States, where arguments have been made that “[s]tate resources devoted to supporting armed-force responders” could potentially be used to instead “support unarmed civilian workers trained in crisis-mental-health response or neighborhood problem-solvers tasked with addressing physical blight” (Meares & Tyler, 2020). This option has already been tried to positive effect in Eugene, Oregon where for the past 30 years non-profit organisation the White Bird Clinic has administered a program called CAHOOTS— short for Crisis Assistance Helping Out On The Streets—whose 24/7 mobile outreach and crisis intervention team is dispatched via the policefire-ambulance communications centre to mental health-related callouts (Elinson, 2018). CAHOOTS staff, consisting of clinicians and crisis workers, do not carry weapons and have no authority to arrest or detain people against their will; their aim is to provide an alternative to police action, wherever possible, for non-criminal and non-emergency substance abuse, poverty and mental health crisis-related incidents. The program is not designed to deal with violent situations or life-threatening emergencies (White Bird Clinic, n.d). While police have long questioned

3 The Search for Solutions to the Problems …

89

whether they are the most appropriate first responders to mental health crisis interventions, rarely before has removal of officers from these kinds of encounters been considered a viable intervention strategy to reducing the prevalence of police use of lethal force as it has now. There are obviously compassionate as well as “fiscally conservative” reasons for imagining a world where mental health experts, rather than the police, are the primary responders to mental health crises in the community (Walker cited in Elinson, 2018). But in Australia at least, where a similar model already exists to some degree in the form of 24/7 Crisis Assessment and Treatment Teams (CATTs—known by different names across Australia’s states and territories, but essentially performing the same roles), such solutions to the problem of policing mental illness have been beset by ongoing problems. For one, CATTs are notoriously over-stretched in the work that they do, and therefore unable to always respond in a timely manner. They are known for being ‘too busy’ to attend mental health crisis incidents as they are occurring, or failing to even answer the phone when contacted for assistance (Dow, 2018). This inaccessibility is what has often compelled people to call the police instead, particularly in highly volatile situations. In failing to either reduce the frequency of interactions between police and people with mental illness or realise sustainable alternatives to police as ‘streetcorner psychiatrists’, the focus has fallen on trying to equip police to respond to mental health crisis incidents as safely and expertly as possible. Coleman and Cotton (2016) describe the evolution of this approach as falling into “three, somewhat overlapping, generations” of mental health crisis intervention; the first characterised by a need for increased police education and training in mental health-related issues, the second by specialised police-based response models aimed at directing police resources on the issue, and the third by a broader strategic approach to interactions with people with mental illness that is manifest in the establishment of a corporate mental health strategy to which the first- and second-generation programs and tactics can be linked. Amidst these waves of progress has been an unflinching, albeit mostly reactive, commitment by police agencies to the search for technocentric solutions to the challenges of managing mental health crises in the community, and the public’s growing discontent with the prevalence

90

K. Clifford

of police use of force during these and other law enforcement encounters with some of society’s most vulnerable and marginalised citizens. On one level, the enthusiasm for a technological fix to the perceived crisis in police legitimacy is unsurprising; it is, after all, “far cheaper to implement technology than retrain officers or solve more endemic social problems” (Ariel, Farrar, & Sutherland, 2017, p. 294). But as an article in the Harvard Law Review points out, the widespread galvanisation over technologies perceived as effective alternatives to police firearm use, as well as support for enhanced police mental health training initiatives, has also exemplified “the human tendency, in times of tragedy to latch on to the most readily available solution to a complex problem” (‘Considering police body cameras: Developments in the Law’, 2015, p. 1796). Even as I write this, another technological innovation is being touted as a safer tactical option to Tasers and capsicum spray, which were originally introduced as ‘less-lethal’ alternatives in their own right to the police use of firearms. News stories have emerged about the ‘bolawrap’, a handheld remote restraint device that fires a 2.4-metre Kevlar cord with grappling hooks at high velocity to within an 8-metre range to entangle a person’s arms and legs. The device, which has since been demonstrated to a number of police agencies in Australia, has reportedly been designed with mental health crisis interventions specifically in mind (Sutton, 2019). “Our follies are never-ending”, writes Geller (2008), “because we are so quick to treat persons with mental illness with fashionable (for the era) social policy changes rather than evaluated treatment interventions. We pay lip service to evidence-based practice and practice the intervention du jour ” (p. 56). This problem is symptomatic of the significant increase in recent years of “the range and sophistication of audiovisual technologies being deployed in policing and crime control” (Taylor, Lee, Willis, & Gannoni, 2017, p. 1) and the resulting ways in which many of these technologies have been marketed as an answer to concerns about police accountability, violence, discrimination and corruption (Coudert, Butin, & Le Me´tayer, 2015). The deaths of mentally ill individuals by police shooting may become focal points for debates about police use of force, but they also sadly become marketing opportunities for the companies promoting solutions to these massive, seemingly intractable problems.

3 The Search for Solutions to the Problems …

91

What has resulted, according to investigative reporter Matt Stroud (2019), is a “blind optimism” in technology as the ‘fix’ (p. 3). For their proponents, however, recent technological additions to the police arsenal, such as body-worn cameras, offer much more than this: not only are they a sign of the increasing professionalisation of policing, but they have the potential to restore public confidence in the police as an institution. This is despite the fact that assessments of the technology’s suitability and utility as a means by which to reduce police and citizen injuries—and deaths—have to date either been in short supply or as questionable as they were for their technological predecessors. Similar points of debate were identified in the wake of the rollout of Tasers especially, when evaluations of the technology and its impacts struggled to keep pace with the rate at which law enforcement agencies around the world were adopting the technology.

The Technological Solution That Promised to ‘Save Lives and Reduce Injuries’ Conducted Energy Weapons (CEWs), such as Tasers or ‘stun guns’ as they are often colloquially known, are designed to administer an electric shock on contact to cause the incapacitation or submission of an individual using one of three possible modes. The first is referred to as draw and cover mode where the Taser is activated and pointed, but not fired at a person. The second, known as probe mode, involves the firing of a cartridge of barbed projectiles at an individual. The successful deployment of the probes completes an electric circuit whereby a high voltage, low amperage electrical current is passed to the individual to cause involuntary muscle contractions and loss of neuromuscular control. The final use, known as drive-stun mode, involves direct application of the Taser to the body of a person to cause localised pain and debilitation, rather than complete incapacitation (see NSW Ombudsman, 2012a; Queensland Crime and Misconduct Commission, 2008). While the police use of Taser devices has enjoyed a high level of public acceptance (O’Brien & Thom, 2014), this has not been without controversy or debate about how Tasers are, and should be, used and on whom.

92

K. Clifford

High rates of Taser use on people with mental health problems have been a particular talking point, galvanised by news reports of civilian deaths following police tasering, often as a result of complicating factors such as pre-existing physical health conditions. In more controversial cases, the deaths have been attributed within news reports, and some coronial findings, to police misuse of Tasers—such as excessive application of the electroshock device on an individual—or the perceived failure of Tasers as a tactical alternative to the use of police firearms. In 2008, at the time of the state government’s million-dollar investment in the rollout of Tasers to all frontline police officers in New South Wales (NSW), then-Police Commissioner Andrew Scipione claimed that fatal policeinvolved shootings, such as the death of Roni Levi on Bondi Beach, could have been avoided “had officers been armed with stun guns instead of pistols” (Patty, 2008, p. 3). But by the following year, the police use of Tasers was back in the headlines for all the wrong reasons following the death of Antonio Galeano who had been Tasered up to 28 times by officers. Galeano’s death prompted a four-week review of Taser use by the Queensland Police Service and temporarily halted the rollout of the device (Griffith, 2009). In 2014, the role of Tasers came under scrutiny again in Australia after the deaths of another three men in the one week during confrontations with armed Queensland police officers. The rash of shootings, according to an article in The Guardian, highlighted “the failure of stun guns as a non-lethal alternative” to police firearms as well as the extent to which the weaponry had been misrepresented, and marketed, as such (Robertson, 2014). As Human Rights Law Centre executive director Hugh de Kretser (cited in Sutton, 2019) points out: “When the weapon fails to work properly, and this happens often with tasers, a fatal confrontation is then more likely”. Of course, police use of Tasers is not only a problem when it results in death; their misuse can also lead to serious injury (Howie, 2010). Similar to police-involved mental health crisis interventions, deaths of civilians are rare across the spectrum of law enforcement encounters involving the use of Tasers, especially when the devices are used correctly. But Taser-related deaths have been recorded in Australia since the weapon’s introduction. Separating out those incidents where the use of a Taser can be directly attributed to the cause of death over, for example, other forms of police force used at the time, can be difficult. But deaths resulting

3 The Search for Solutions to the Problems …

93

from the perceived (mis)use of a device that police technology companies like Axon—formerly TASER International, once a ‘weapons manufacturer’ now ‘a full solutions provider’—claim is supposed to ‘save lives and reduce injuries’ have in particular proven an impetus for many to question the role of Tasers within a police officer’s armoury. In the United Kingdom, the Independent Police Complaints Commission noted: …an obvious mismatch between the public perception that Taser is a high level use of force that should only be considered when faced with the most serious threats of violence, and the police’s most frequent rationale for use, that Taser presents a lower risk than other equipment. (IPCC, 2014, p. 25)

Opinion remains similarly divided in Australia as to whether Tasers represent a safer and superior alternative to police use of firearms or the introduction of an additional use of force option for police, and a potentially deadly weapon in their own right. The ambiguous characterisation of Tasers as a ‘non-lethal’, ‘less-lethal’ and ‘less-than-lethal’ tactical option for police has not helped—although, for some, the situation is far more clear cut. Former NSW Ombudsman Bruce Barbour, for one, was particularly vocal about the characterisation of Tasers in his time as the head of the independent integrity agency. In a speech to the NSW Council for Civil Liberties, he made it explicit that he considered them a less-lethal response—not a non-lethal response—saying those at greatest risk of injury or death from Taser usage included the young, individuals under the influence of drugs and alcohol, and those with a mental illness; “[t]he very people with whom police will have significant contact, and who are likely to be unstable or unpredictable” (Barbour, 2010). The potential for Tasers to pose significant health and safety risks to individuals subjected to the device’s electroshock, including the possibility of Taser-related deaths among vulnerable population groups, has also been widely cited by human rights organisations such as Amnesty International (2006, 2007). Further concerns have been raised over what is viewed as the inadequate regulation of Taser use by Australian police, and the potential for the unjustified and excessive use of Tasers as a tool

94

K. Clifford

of submission to ensure citizens act in a compliant manner with police instructions (NSW Ombudsman, 2008, 2010, 2012a). The complaint of critics is that, rather than Tasers being seen as an alternative to lethal force, police have resorted to using them “in situations that would never warrant firing a gun” (Goodyear, 2018). Not unlike fatal police-involved shootings, cases involving extreme Taser use—especially those preceding a citizen’s death—are often subject to intense media and legal attention, and public debate. It is therefore important, as the IPCC (2014) points out, that “police forces are able to justify each individual use” (p. 4). In short, there is a need to ensure that Tasers are “not being used inappropriately or as a default choice where other tactical options, including communication, could be effective” (IPCC, 2014, p. 3). Every state and federal police force in Australia authorises the use of Tasers by its officers, although deployment of the device to general duties (GD) officers versus specialist police units (or both) varies across jurisdictions. Despite the progressive rollout of the device, there remains a relative paucity of research on the safety and effectiveness of Taser use by Australian police. The majority of research to date—some of which (the more favourable) is selectively promoted on the websites of companies like Axon—has emerged internationally, particularly out of the United States. Overall, the evidence shows what prior research on police weaponisation has already revealed; while police officers feel they may be safer if they are permitted to carry weapons such as Tasers, in reality they might not be and the public at large (especially minority groups, young people and individuals experiencing mental health problems) are likely to be significantly less safe when confronted by police officers carrying such weapons (Squires, 2017). Similar findings have been noted in relation to police firearms (see Hendy, 2014). In December 2007, the NSW Ombudsman commenced an investigation into the use of Tasers by the NSW Police Force, motivated by a number of factors including “the high public interest in ensuring police use of force is reasonable and proportionate” (NSW Ombudsman, 2008, p. i). By the time the investigation commenced, the NSW Police Force had been using Tasers for close to five years “without a substantial review of their use” (NSW Ombudsman, 2008, p. i). At that stage, the device was available to two specialist police

3 The Search for Solutions to the Problems …

95

units—the NSW Police Force Tactical Operations Unit (TOU) and its regional counterpart, the State Protection Support Unit (SPSU). These groups are tasked with providing 24-hour, state-wide tactical support to operational police “dealing with high risk incidents, such as sieges, arrest of particularly violent people, suicide interventions, and restraint of people with mental illness” (NSW Ombudsman, 2008, p. i). In 2007, Tasers were issued to another NSW specialist police unit: the Public Order and Riot Squad. The NSW Ombudsman’s findings provided qualified approval of the use of Tasers by the TOU and SPSU as “a useful option for officers in the specialist units to achieve effective resolution of dangerous and high risk matters” (NSW Ombudsman, 2008, p. iii). However, the report was less forthcoming in terms of sanctioning the widespread introduction of Tasers to all frontline police officers, given that GD officers “receive significantly less training about managing high risk incidents, and they do not work in a [well rehearsed] team environment” (NSW Ombudsman, 2008, p. iii). The Ombudsman issued a number of recommendations to improve the comprehensiveness of training provided to frontline police officers. Among these was advice that officers authorised to use Tasers should: … receive training about mental health issues, including the most effective ways to communicate with people thought to be suffering from mental illness, and the most effective ways to de-escalate situations involving mentally ill people who are behaving in a violent or aggressive manner. (NSW Ombudsman, 2008, p. iii)

On release of the report in November 2008, Barbour called for a two-year moratorium on any further rollout of Tasers to NSW police while proper assessment of the use of the weapon by GD officers was conducted. NSW Police Force standard operating procedures (SOPs) on Taser use had only been introduced two months earlier. Rather than wait for the outcomes of Barbour’s review, the NSW Government had already decided to proceed with a 12-month trial of the use of Tasers by GD police officers working as supervisors and duty officers across the state’s 80 LACs (NSW Ombudsman, 2008; Welch & Taflaga, 2010). A further announcement was made on 6 September 2009 by the then-Premier

96

K. Clifford

of NSW, Nathan Rees, that Tasers would be rolled out to all frontline police officers across the state over the following 18 months (Premier of New South Wales, 2009). Police promised stringent oversight during the trial, including the use of ‘Taser cams’; cameras mounted to the device to record all Taser use incidents for future review. A report published in The Sydney Morning Herald newspaper, based on internal police documents obtained after a year-long Freedom of Information battle, identified what the newspaper described as a “litany of misuses and abuses that were covered up by police and the government” (Welch & Taflaga, 2010, p. 1) during the 12-month NSW Police Force Taser trial. Among these, the newspaper alleged, was evidence to support concerns about the inappropriate use of Tasers by police as compliance-seeking devices. One incident included the repeated stunning of a compliant man who presented no threat and was surrounded by members of the riot squad; an event that was subsequently referred to the NSW Ombudsman and NSW Police Force for investigation. Such incidents reflect what the NSW Ombudsman (2008) at the time highlighted as an emerging trend in many jurisdictions, whereby “Tasers are increasingly being used by police in situations where high levels of risk are not present, and police could likely manage the situation effectively without resorting to force” (p. 21)—a phenomenon more commonly known as ‘mission creep’. Barbour’s own investigation had found that, in the first two weeks of use by GD officers, in four out of five incidents, Tasers had been used in drive-stun mode (direct application of the Taser to the skin or clothing of a person). By comparison, officers from specialist units such as the NSW Police Force TOU had tended to use Tasers in probe mode or by firing from a distance (NSW Ombudsman, 2008). During the 12-month trial, Tasers were drawn from their holsters by police on 397 separate occasions (equating to more than once a day) and fired in 35 per cent of cases, with mental illness a factor in 35 per cent of these incidents (Welch & Taflaga, 2010). A subsequent review, conducted by Barbour’s office, of NSW Police Force GD officers’ Taser use between October 2008 and November 2011 suggested that the prevalence of mission creep had declined in line with decreasing Taser use over time. The investigation took in a total of 2252

3 The Search for Solutions to the Problems …

97

Taser use incidents, together with a detailed examination of 556 individual police Taser use incidents between 1 June and 30 November 2010. While the investigation found a number of improvements had been introduced to the NSW Police Force’s Taser SOPs, and a generally high standard of compliance with the guidelines, existing policies and procedures remained unclear, confusing or silent on some important areas. “The rules need to be clearer and stronger”, said Barbour. “In my view, police must be at risk of serious actual bodily harm to justify discharging a Taser. Clear and unambiguous guidance on appropriate and inappropriate Taser use benefits the community, as well as police officers” (Barbour cited in NSW Ombudsman, 2012b). The resulting report, How are Taser weapons used by the NSW Police Force?, offered 46 recommendations to further tighten Taser SOPs, including a recapitulation of earlier suggestions that Taser (re)accreditation training incorporate reality-based scenarios to emphasise the importance of communication, negotiation and de-escalation in dealing with vulnerable people, such as those experiencing mental ill-health (NSW Ombudsman, 2012a). Barbour also released Taser cam and CCTV footage from 11 of the 556 incidents analysed for public viewing on the NSW Ombudsman’s website, so as to demonstrate both appropriate and inappropriate examples of Taser use by NSW police. Notwithstanding the mostly positive findings of this second review, Barbour and his team did identify a number of incidents where the Taser use by NSW police officers appeared unreasonable or excessive. One of the more tragic of these incidents, which unfortunately fell outside the report’s purview, was the death of Roberto Laudisio Curti. The Brazilian national had died on a pavement in Sydney’s CBD some seven months before the release of the Ombudsman’s report after being pursued and restrained by up to 11 NSW police officers who had used physical force, multiple Tasers, OC spray, handcuffs and a baton to subdue him. Police had been informed incorrectly that Curti had committed an armed robbery of a city convenience store. He was, in fact, experiencing a drug-induced psychotic episode at the time of his apprehension. Police tasered Curti up to 14 times, seven in drive-stun mode (Inquest into the death of Roberto Laudisio Curti, 2012). Graphic vision of the incident was released to media during the coronial inquest, including Taser cam

98

K. Clifford

footage that showed Curti writhing in pain in response to the repeated tasering. While medical experts at the coronial inquest could not agree on precisely what had killed the 21-year-old student, they ruled out the repeated tasering by police as a cause. Despite this, Australian news media repeatedly referred to the incident as a ‘Taser death’ with the tabloid press publishing stories under the headlines ‘Death by Taser’ and ‘Taser Firestorm’ (Bodkin, 2012a; ‘Taser Firestorm’, 2012). Curti himself was often referred to in news media coverage as the ‘stun gun victim’ or ‘tasered Brazilian student’, while the police officers involved in the incident were described as ‘taser cops’ (see for example Bodkin, 2012b, c). In her coronial findings which were live-streamed from the Glebe Coroner’s Court in Sydney, then-NSW Coroner, Magistrate Mary Jerram, issued a scathing assessment of the police who attended the incident, describing their actions as reckless, excessive and thuggish; “an abuse of police powers” (Inquest into the death of Roberto Laudisio Curti, 2012, p. 21). She said they had “thrown themselves” into the fracas with “an ungoverned pack mentality, like the schoolboys in ‘Lord of the Flies’, with no idea what the problem was, or what threat or crime was supposedly to be averted” (Inquest into the death of Roberto Laudisio Curti, 2012, p. 22). As part of the inquest’s findings, Jerram recommended an immediate review of the training associated with Tasers and a prohibition of the use of Tasers in drive-stun mode, unless police officers felt they needed to defend themselves from attack. Four of the police officers involved in the Curti incident were subsequently charged with assault, although only one was found guilty. His assault charge related to the use of OC spray, not a Taser. The offence, while proven, was dismissed without conviction and the officer was placed on a good behaviour bond. He was later acquitted by a judge in the District Court on appeal. The remaining three officers who had deployed their Tasers against Curti were cleared of all charges related to involvement in the death of the Brazilian student. Six years later, in February 2018, there were again calls for greater transparency around the use of Tasers after unarmed man Jack Kokaua died during a police arrest in Sydney following his escape from Royal Prince Alfred Hospital where he was being held under the relevant

3 The Search for Solutions to the Problems …

99

Mental Health Act. Kokaua lost consciousness and stopped breathing shortly after being restrained by six police officers, during which time he was capsicum-sprayed and tasered. Despite Coroner Mary Jerram’s earlier calls in the wake of the Curti incident to prohibit the use of Tasers in drive-stun mode unless police officers felt they needed to defend themselves from attack, NSW Police Assistant Commissioner Mark Walton said he could not confirm in what mode the Taser had been used on Kokaua (Zhou, 2018). Police guidelines in effect at the time advised that a Taser should not be used in any mode “against a mental health patient solely to make them comply or submit to medication or treatment” (NSW Police Force, 2016, p. 22). In the wake of Kokaua’s death, the NSW Council for Civil Liberties noted that updated statistics around NSW police Taser use had not been released since the last report by the Ombudsman in 2012, while police SOPs on Taser use had not been reviewed since their last modification in 2016, although a review had been scheduled for July 2018 (see Cochrane, 2018; NSW Police Force, 2016). Around the same time, in the United States, media organisations such as Reuters had taken it upon themselves to spearhead investigations into fatalities involving police Taser use. The organisation claims its Shock Tactics series is “the most thorough accounting to date of fatal encounters involving the paralyzing stun guns” (Eisler, Szep, Reid, & Smith, 2017a). As part of its reporting, Reuters documented over 1000 Taser-related fatalities from detailed studies of autopsy reports, court records, police documents and media reports between 1983 and 2018. It also scoured the websites of advocacy organisations, including Amnesty International, Truth Not Tasers and Fatal Encounters, and published Taser-mounted camera footage from selected critical incidents such as the fatal encounter between Ontario Police Department officers and Tom Schrok, a hospital technician who had struggled with mental health problems throughout his life (Eisler et al., 2017a). The organisation continues to count the number of deaths in the United States involving Tasers through The Reuters Taser Tracker. At the time of writing, 273 of the 1077 fatalities documented by the media organisation had involved people showing signs of mental illness, emotional distress or a neurological disorder at the time of their death. For nine out of every 10 incidents, the deceased was

100

K. Clifford

unarmed at the time of tasering (Eisler, Szep, Reid, & Smith, 2017b). In a significant number of the cases, the families of the deceased went on to mount wrongful death lawsuits, suing the police or other public agencies, resulting in settlements and payouts from the government. The cost of defending police officers involved in these types of incidents and the family settlements paid form part of the hidden cost of police use of lethal force. In 2016, figures obtained under Freedom of Information laws in Australia revealed that the state had spent at least A$1.2 million defending the four NSW Police Force officers involved in the Roberto Laudisio Curti incident, both during the coronial inquest into his death as well as at their subsequent criminal trials and hearings before the Public Integrity Commission and NSW Ombudsman (Knowles, 2016). Still unsettled, however, is the question of whether Tasers have served to reduce the number of police-involved shootings in jurisdictions where the weaponry is issued to frontline police or if their deployment has encouraged a more aggressive approach to police encounters with civilians. This was, after all, the “singular marketing focus” that helped to foster support for the widespread adoption of the technology across police departments globally; “instead of resorting to lethal gunfire”, police officers would be able to “control combative subjects with a paralysing stun” (Eisler et al., 2017b). A more recent study of Chicago Police Department data in the United States has found that, although the adoption of Tasers may have resulted in a reduction in the frequency of injuries to frontline police officers, there has been no evidence to suggest that Tasers have reduced the police use of firearms (Ba & Grogger, 2018). While statistics show that police shootings of civilians in Australia have mostly been in decline since 2004–05 (Lyneham & Chan, 2013), it is difficult to ascertain whether this can be directly attributed to the introduction of Tasers. There are likely multifactorial reasons for the trend. Figures obtained by Greens MP David Shoebridge show that, in NSW at least, Tasers have not displaced the use of police firearms. Taser use by NSW police has in fact been on the rise since 2008–09 when the technology was rolled out to all GD officers in the state. Across the same period, the use of police firearms has held steady; meaning that, on the whole, the use of force and police weapons by frontline officers in NSW has been increasing (Shoebridge, 2012; Simmons, 2012). Other

3 The Search for Solutions to the Problems …

101

studies over the past two decades have demonstrated far more favourable (and seemingly definitive) results internationally, attesting to the safety of Tasers and the technology’s effectiveness as an alternative to police firearms. But according to O’Brien and Thom (2014), much of this literature has been “plagued by selection bias and lack of generalizability to real world circumstances” (p. 420). Concerns have also been raised over the independence of studies conducted by researchers with financial ties to Taser manufacturers, such as Axon or TASER International as it was formerly known (O’Brien & Thom, 2014; Stroud, 2019).

Body-Worn Cameras, Police Transparency and Accountability The importance of rigorous research and evaluation of police technologies cannot be overstated. In a data-driven world, making the case to invest in any one solution requires reliable evidence to support the need to do so (Fuller et al., 2015; Sanburn, 2014). With police jurisdictions the world over heavily investing in these technologies nonetheless, one would hope that ‘less-lethal’ tactical options like Tasers and police accountability technologies such as body-worn cameras (BWCs) are at least able to do what is expected of them. But researchers have “consistently found that police technology may not lead to the outcomes sought” (Lum, Stoltz, Koper, & Scherer, 2019, p. 95; see also Yokum, Ravishankar, & Coppock, 2019). Worse still, policing as it exists has been largely shaped by unproven solutions and improvisation: Police executives and government leaders engage in a recurrent pattern of reacting to immediate perceived crises and public panics with quick fixes guided by guesses and intuitions, many of which are found to be erroneous at best and counterproductive at worst… Rapidly deploying a faulty idea only looks like it is solving a problem. (Meares & Tyler, 2020)

Police technologies, as Stroud (2019) sees it, have become “expensive stopgaps that give the police a sheen of forward-thinking pragmatism

102

K. Clifford

while in fact steering them away from the kinds of fundamental reforms that could make a real difference” (p. 3). Without evaluation to match the rapid adoption of police technologies, it is difficult (as history has already shown) to mitigate against potentially negative unintended consequences or to optimise the technology’s use. It is also far harder to scale back the technology once deployed, although this has already started to occur across several jurisdictions in the United States where the annual fees associated with BWCs and the storage of footage have proven too costly amid budgetary concerns (Kindy, 2019). In Arlington, Virginia, the police department’s proposed BWC program did not even make it off the ground after a pilot project revealed the technology would cost an estimated US$300,000 per year. For larger police departments, the costs can run into the millions. The most expensive BWC program in the Police Executive Research Forum (PERF)’s national survey on the use of the technology cost its police department over US$1.3 million in one year for the camera equipment, plus an additional US$4 million to store the video files (PERF, 2018). Measuring the return on investment has proven difficult. Researchers have struggled to ascertain whether the savings derived from an expected reduction in civil lawsuits against police post-BWC implementation have been enough to offset the costs of introducing the technology in the first place (PERF, 2018). As one United States police chief noted, BWCs “are wonderful for winning public trust” and helping to rebuild police credibility, but “it’s expensive” (Carpenter cited in Kindy, 2019). Despite this, frontline police and the public have been broadly optimistic about the positive impacts the implementation of the technology can have on policing practices (Jennings, Fridell, & Lynch, 2014; Lum et al., 2019; Smykla, Crow, Crichlow, & Snyder, 2016; Snyder, Crow, & Smykla, 2019). Increased transparency in policing, reductions in police use of force, a decline in vexatious citizen claims of misconduct against police and improved community trust are among the primary justifications for the adoption of the technology (Schneider, 2018). Further benefits include improved evidence collection at crime scenes and the use of BWC recordings as training tools for police (Coudert et al., 2015; Phelps, Strype, Le Bellu, Lahlou, & Aandal, 2018; Smith, 2019). But with their use come

3 The Search for Solutions to the Problems …

103

a number of potential drawbacks and a litany of as yet unresolved legal, ethical and civil rights concerns related to: • The discretion police officers have to activate or deactivate BWCs; • Accessibility of footage to support complaints about police misconduct; • Unrestricted BWC footage review by police officers (prior to incident report writing); • The absence of standard limits on data retention periods; • Lack of legislative oversight and regulations on the use of the technology; • The need for protection of footage from tampering and misuse; • Limited evaluation of BWCs in light of phenomena such as ‘camera view bias’ and the integration of real-time facial recognition with BWC systems; and • Resultant privacy concerns, for both citizens and police officers. Moreover, some police administrators have expressed concerns that the introduction of BWCs will see police officers become more reluctant to use force, where necessary, and that mainstream media will use the video footage from BWCs to embarrass or persecute police and their families (Smykla et al., 2016). Such apprehensions may be attributable to the uneasy relationship that has historically existed between police and media (see Clifford & White, 2017). But it may also derive from the fact that many police leaders believe mainstream media (as well as social activists) have been the drivers of much of the pressure on police to implement BWCs—far more than government or legislative sources (Smykla et al., 2016). Worn on the uniform of police officers, usually on the upper chest, BWCs are small devices that enable real-time audio and video recording of police activities, especially interactions with the public. Footage is recorded from the perspective of the police officer, and can be stored and retrieved at a later date (Smith, 2019). Storage issues associated with BWC video files (and their cost) are therefore often cumulative, given that the retention laws in some jurisdictions require police to keep certain types of footage for years, if not indefinitely (PERF, 2018).

104

K. Clifford

Despite being a relatively new tool for police, the use of BWCs has been steadily increasing worldwide. In the United States, the campaign for all frontline police to wear body cameras gained particular momentum after the deaths of Eric Garner and Michael Brown in 2014 (see, for example, Ariel, Farrar, & Sutherland, 2015; Barns, 2015). In response to the controversy over Brown’s death in particular, the US Department of Justice (2015) awarded tens of millions of dollars in grants to support law enforcement’s expanded use of BWCs in 32 states. The hope was that “recordings of police-civilian interactions would deter officer misconduct and eliminate the ambiguity present in cases like Michael Brown’s, making it easier to punish officers’ use of excessive force” (‘Considering police body cameras: Developments in the Law’, 2015, p. 1795). Everyone from Black Lives Matter activists to district attorneys lined up to support the initiative (Stroud, 2019). It is estimated that around half of the 18,000 law enforcement agencies in the United States now have some type of BWC program (Kindy, 2019; see also Goodyear, 2018). In Australia, police use of BWCs has also been “growing increasingly prevalent in parallel with other countries” (Taylor, 2016, p. 129). Most states and territories in Australia have adopted the technology, although there remains a divergence in the ways, and when, BWCs are being utilised by police officers in the field. While research on stakeholder perceptions and the effectiveness of BWCs has more recently gained a pace to match that of their widespread adoption, not unlike Tasers before them, the jury is still out on the central issue of whether BWCs have the capacity to reduce the use of unnecessary or excessive force by frontline police officers. One of the most-cited studies in support of this argument is the Rialto experiment, a 12-month evaluation of the impact of BWCs on policing within a mid-sized United States police department, conducted via fieldwork in 2012. The study attracted widespread media attention after it documented around a 60 per cent decline in police use of force rates among Rialto Police Department officers who wore BWCs during their shifts (Ariel et al., 2015). But many see Rialto as “an outlier” (Sanburn, 2014). Subsequent reviews have shown contradictory results with mostly lesspositive effects on police use of force rates post-BWC implementation (Ariel et al., 2016; Lum et al., 2019). More definitive findings have been

3 The Search for Solutions to the Problems …

105

found in relation to the metric of citizen complaints, where the published research shows BWCs can clearly reduce the number of complaints from the public about the conduct of police officers (Goodyear, 2018; Owens & Finn, 2018). Attention obviously needs to be paid to the ways in which the concept of ‘force’ is defined and measured within many of these studies. So too, the way in which BWCs form an integral part of contemporary police public relations and image work warrants further examination. This includes the extent to which BWCs serve as an institutional mechanism for responding to and controlling stories that, when circulated via traditional and social media, challenge police legitimacy and authority (Schneider, 2016, 2018). As Goodyear (2018) points out, the cameras themselves “have little intrinsic value, but the information they collect is worth a fortune to whoever can organize and safeguard it”. Few police agencies have managed to do this effectively to date. “The technology is the easy part”, notes White. “The human use of the technology really is making things very complex” (White cited in Goodyear, 2018). One of the more contentious aspects of the BWC debate in this regard is the wide discretion granted to police officers over when to start the recording function on their body cameras. Critics claim that this latitude can severely limit the potential benefits of the technology by circumventing the oversight of policing that BWCs are meant to provide (Lawrence, McClure, Malm, Lynch, & La Vigne, 2019). It is often assumed that all police wearing BWCs are required to activate the device during callouts and critical incidents (and that all police officers have the technical proficiency to know how to do so). But as the NSW Police Force’s (2018) body-worn video flyer explains: “Officers will activate the record function of the camera at their discretion”. Policies prescribing the types of situations in which officers should start recording have been developed by many police agencies across the globe. These range anywhere from ‘when police would normally use their notebook to record information’ to ‘prior to and during the exercising of a police power under legislation’, ‘when the use of force is anticipated’ and, in some cases, during all interactions with members of the public. In other words, police directives on BWC activation are not standardised, nor are they always vigorously enforced with few formal consequences for

106

K. Clifford

those who violate them (Lawrence et al., 2019). The incentive for police officers to comply with recording guidelines is therefore so imprecise that it has left police agencies open to the accusation that frontline officers are able to manipulate the recording of BWC videos to suit their own interests (Young & Ready, 2018). As Pesutto (2019) notes: “Greater transparency depends greatly on the will to embrace it” (p. 36). To counteract claims of manipulated recording, some police agencies have taken to field testing smart sensors that, using Bluetooth technology, send a signal to the BWC to activate its recording function whenever a police officer draws their firearm from its holster (Kulmala, 2017). But the mere existence of BWC footage neither equates to nor guarantees transparency. This is particularly the case where the recordings are unable to be publicly scrutinised, especially in response to controversial use of force incidents such as police-involved shootings. Police department guidance on this matter is itself often unclear (Southall & Goldstein, 2017). Some agencies have no formal policies about the release of BWC footage of shootings involving police officers (Southall & Mays, 2017). Those that do often do not make such policies available to the public (The Leadership Conference on Civil and Human Rights and Upturn, 2017). This has raised questions about the privileges afforded to frontline police officers in the aftermath of a critical incident, including whether they are permitted unrestricted access to BWC footage, prior to speaking to investigators or providing witness statements. A number of jurisdictions in the United States “have passed legislation that exempts police departments from public disclosure laws that would otherwise compel them to release BWC footage” (Peterson & Lawrence, 2019). This has been done primarily on the basis of privacy concerns; as a safeguard to protect against disrupting an ongoing investigation or revealing sensitive case information, such as the identities of the individuals involved, be they victims, witnesses, suspects or police. The clash between privacy and public disclosure remains one of the perennial tensions within the BWC debate, given that preventing the release of BWC footage on the grounds of sensitivity and confidentiality runs counter to the transparency benefits attributed to the technology. Attempts have been made to balance the interests of public disclosure obligations with privacy through calls for the development of better

3 The Search for Solutions to the Problems …

107

redaction technologies to automate the removal of private information from BWC videos before public release (Fan, 2016). But the fact remains that BWC recordings can sometimes capture people at the worst moments of their lives when they are “battered and bleeding, drunk and disorderly, distraught, traumatized, enraged, hopped up on drugs or stoned” (Fan, 2016, p. 399)—or in the case of mental health crisis interventions, in the midst of psychiatric distress. The fear is that videos of individuals in such precarious states will end up being “uploaded to the Internet for titillation and gawking” (Stanley cited in Pearce, 2014). So too, victims’ families may be (re)traumatised by the circulation of this content through mainstream and social media. Similar privacy concerns also apply to police officers and their families. The New York Police Department (NYPD) has already experienced the strain of trying to meet public pressure around BWC video disclosures, while also being attentive to the privacy and protection demands of its serving officers. In September 2018, the union representing rankand-file police officers filed a lawsuit against the Mayor of New York City and the NYPD’s police commissioner, alleging that they were breaking the law by selectively releasing portions of BWC footage without first having sought a court order to do so and were, in the process, trading police officer safety for political gain (NYC PBA, 2018). The case took a hit the following year when a lower court’s decision that edited footage could be made public without a court order was upheld, and the police union’s bid to take the case to the state Court of Appeals was denied (DeGregory, 2019). The rulings permit the NYPD to release BWC footage of critical incidents, when appropriate, in response to requests made by members of the public and the media under Freedom of Information (FOI) legislation (NYPD, 2019). At the time of writing, the police union was contemplating whether it would avail itself of the right to seek appeal of the findings by going direct to the Court of Appeals and asking for the case to be heard. One of the catalysts for the legal stoush was the police use of lethal force on Miguel Richards, whose shooting death in September 2017 was the first to be captured on video by police BWCs after the commencement of the NYPD’s court-ordered trial of the technology. (The NYPD’s rollout of BWCs to all uniform patrol officers was completed in March

108

K. Clifford

2019.) Richards, a college exchange student from Jamaica, was shot 16 times while experiencing a psychotic episode. The shooting followed a 15-minute standoff with police in an Edenwald apartment in the Bronx. NYPD officers had been conducting a welfare check on Richards who was found standing by a wall at the foot of his bed, wearing sunglasses and holding what officers suspected to be a weapon (later identified as a toy gun). During the confrontation, Richards was motionless and did not utter a single word. He was shot after a police officer entered the room with a Taser and Richards appeared to raise his arm. Two weeks later, police released what appeared to be heavily edited BWC footage of the incident; a move that was lauded by some and criticised by others. The police union, for one, was displeased with the release of the BWC footage. But other critics such as civil rights group, New York Lawyers for the Public Interest (NYLPI), believed the NYPD had not gone far enough, alleging that the video evidence did not include the BWC footage of all of the officers present, nor did it include footage from the aftermath of the shooting. Some segments of the video had been blurred and the audio muted as part of the redaction process (NYLPI, 2018). NYLPI subsequently requested access to the full unedited version of the footage related to Richards’ shooting. Failing to obtain the footage through FOI provisions, the NYLPI filed a lawsuit compelling the NYPD to produce the unredacted camera footage. An associate of the law firm which lodged the lawsuit on behalf of the civil rights group said at the time: “The New York Freedom of Information Law and the NYPD’s police body camera program both emphasize transparency and accountability to the public, which is put at risk when camera footage of a fatal incident involving an individual experiencing a mental health crisis is shielded” (Reed cited in Milbank, Tweed, Hadley, & McCloy, 2018). Embedded within such statements is a presumption that the camera does not lie, and that BWCs are a more ‘objective’ and irrefutable witness to police-civilian interactions than the testimonies of those involved (Newell, 2019). Pointing to the way in which prosecutions by police can be greatly assisted by the existence of BWC footage, former NSW Police Commissioner Andrew Scipione contended: “There’s an old saying that a picture is worth a thousand words, well, today high definition video

3 The Search for Solutions to the Problems …

109

is worth ten thousand words” (cited in Kidd, 2015). Similar claims have been made in relation to the surfeit of bystander videos and police dashcam footage—subsequently published on video-sharing networks such as YouTube and online news sites—which has captured evidence of the police use of force during street encounters with members of the public (see for example, the cases documented in Clifford & White, 2017, pp. 237–238). Smartphone apps, such as the American Civil Liberties Union’s ‘Mobile Justice’ app and, in Australia, the National Justice Project’s ‘Copwatch’ app have been designed explicitly for this purpose. But even where high-quality, graphic footage does exist, and is made available, police officers may still not be indicted let alone convicted of alleged professional misconduct (‘Considering police body cameras: Developments in the law’, 2015). Research shows that perspectives about the value of the information BWC videos (and other video evidence of its ilk) can yield need to be tempered by an appreciation that a person’s interpretation of the footage is often filtered through their own cognitive biases. In other words, what a person sees in the footage tends to be shaped by what they already believe. As Thompson (2005) explains: Seeing is never ‘pure vision’, it is never a matter of simply opening one’s eyes and grasping an object or event. On the contrary, seeing is always shaped by a broader set of cultural assumptions and frameworks, and by the spoken or written cues that commonly accompany the visual image and shape the way in which the images are seen and understood. (p. 36)

Controversial police-citizen encounters that become seminal news events in public and political debates about policing practice can also impact on perceptions of video evidence of the use of force. For example, a prior study of public perceptions of fatal police-citizen encounters in the United States found that participants were more inclined to view the police use of force as justified when they either saw video evidence of a fatal shooting or heard audio from it as compared to when they read a transcript of the encounter (Culhane, Boman, & Schweitzer, 2016). Following the widely-publicised police shooting of Michael Brown in Ferguson, Missouri, these perceptions changed dramatically.

110

K. Clifford

The researchers found that under the same experimental conditions, post-Ferguson, the viewing of the video by the study’s participants “had a starkly different and detrimental effect on participants’ justifiable homicide certainty” when compared with the audio or transcript conditions (Culhane et al., 2016, p. 262). As the study’s authors rightfully point out, this shows that the footage provided by BWCs is not the be-all and endall of citizen decision-making on an issue. Public backlash in response to police use of lethal force incidents, including fatal mental health crisis interventions, is dependent upon and “can vary depending on the general political climate toward the police at any given time, case facts, and even official outcomes of a case” (Culhane et al., 2016, p. 267). But public perceptions can also be influenced by the camera’s own limits as well as the viewer bias that BWC technology encourages. To illustrate such claims, in 2016, The New York Times asked its readers to respond to a series of questions about three online videos featuring simulated interactions involving police officers (see Williams, Thomas, Jacoby, & Cave, 2016). One video, recorded from a chestmounted body camera similar to those worn by police across the United States, appeared to show a violent altercation in which the police officer’s safety was under threat. Out of the 80,858 reader responses chronicled by January 2019, 41 per cent had interpreted the situation the officer was facing as ‘somewhat threatening’, while a further 32 per cent saw it as ‘very threatening’. Over half were confident in their selection (Williams et al., 2016). Recorded from a different (bystander) perspective, video footage of the simulation revealed that the individuals involved were not engaged in a physical altercation, but had in fact been vigorously dancing with one another. The jerky movements from the chest-mounted camera had deceived readers into thinking that the ‘struggle’ was more involved than it was. As former police officer Seth W. Stoughton, now academic at the University of South Carolina’s School of Law and the producer of the simulated videos, said at the time: “People are expecting more of body cameras than the technology will deliver…They expect it to be a broad solution for the problem of police-community relations, when in fact it’s just a tool, and like any tool, there’s a limited value to what it can do” (Stoughton cited in Williams et al., 2016).

3 The Search for Solutions to the Problems …

111

Police Training as a Panacea to Lethal Force Such comments recognise what common sense has already told us; that the problem in many instances is not the technology itself, but the promise of the technology, which often falls short of expectations in its application. Often the problem can lie with the application itself which, as several of the examples in this chapter have shown, still ultimately relies on the discretion of individual police officers to determine the most appropriate tactical option to use in view of the circumstances with which they are presented—although, sometimes, these same technologies can limit police discretion, because officers “literally cannot do their work without using the technology” (Chan, 2003, p. 665). As Lawrence (2000) points out, mental health crisis interventions that result in violence, especially the police use of lethal force, typically escalate to such a point through a chain of events and perceptions, although this does not necessarily correlate to a corresponding escalation in the chain of tactical options available to police. It is commonly expected by members of the public that police officers will incrementally escalate their use of tactial options in response to a mental health crisis situation, starting with capsicum spray, moving onto the use of a Taser, and finally the discharge of firearms as a last resort. However, as Joel Murchie, who was at the time the commander of the NSW Police Force Mental Health Intervention Team (MHIT), told me “it doesn’t work that way”: Communication is always going to be the first point of call, and that equally applies to somebody who may be having a psychotic episode. You’re going to try and talk to them and figure out what you’re dealing with, because quite often you’ll turn up and have no idea what’s going on… If that fails and the person is acutely psychotic and/or violent, which the two generally go together, or they’re covering a weapon or whatever else, then you look at that escalation of tactical options. But there’s no staggered response; you use whatever tactical option is relevant under the circumstances and that’s a judgement call, based on the circumstances you find yourself presented with.

112

K. Clifford

It is perhaps unsurprising then that by far the single most common and prevailing strategy advocated as a remedy to reducing or preventing the police use of lethal force in mental health crisis interventions has been the improved mental health training of frontline police officers. In some countries, like the United States, leadership in this field has become a necessity as a consequence of “wider community access to guns, and the relatively higher number of police shootings of mental health consumers” (Donohue & Andrews, 2013, p. 73). The result is that police agencies have had to “scrutinise and refine their operational responses when it comes to policing the mentally ill in the community, and hence develop tailored police training programmes” (Donohue & Andrews, 2013, p. 74). But as Michael Brown (2018), the mental health coordinator for the National Police Chiefs’ Council and College of Policing in the United Kingdom argues, the demands on police for improved mental health training are rarely echoed in relation to mental health services’ (lack of ) specialist knowledge of law enforcement issues. The same could be said of the role that news media occupy in shaping public perceptions of policing and mental illness. While police may form but one part of the equation for effectively managing mental illness in the community without harm to the individuals involved, changes to police policies and procedures have most frequently been presented as solutions to the problem of fatal mental health crisis interventions. We need only look so far as a sample of coronial findings related to the shooting deaths of mentally ill individuals in Australia to see how loud and common a refrain incorporating mandatory mental health, de-escalation tactics and crisis response management into the training of frontline police officers has become as a recommended solution to the use of lethal force by police during encounters with mentally ill members of the public. This has sometimes persisted even after such training initiatives have been introduced by police departments, and independently evaluated. At the conclusion of coronial proceedings into the death of Roni Levi on Bondi Beach, Coroner Derrick Hand recommended that police training in dealing with mentally ill individuals be reviewed and constantly updated and reinforced with frontline officers in NSW. Three years later, his call for improved training of police resurfaced when Deputy State Coroner Jacqueline Milledge requested “full details as to

3 The Search for Solutions to the Problems …

113

the ongoing implementation of the ‘Levi’ recommendation” (cited in State Coroner’s Office, 2001) as part of coronial proceedings related to the death of Alan James Carroll (who had in fact been shot and killed two months prior to Levi’s death after an armed confrontation with police). The recommendation was cited a further time as part of the brief of evidence presented before the coronial inquest into the death of Ali Hamie who died on 5 June 2000 in Randwick after being shot by a member of the NSW Police Service. For some days prior to the shooting, Hamie had been displaying uncharacteristically bizarre and irrational behaviour, and was experiencing delusions. He was shot while attacking a police constable with a shard of glass from the broken window of a drycleaners after being pursued by officers who were attempting to return him to a nearby hospital for treatment (Coronial inquest into the death of Ali Hamie, 2002). One might be forgiven for thinking that the recurrence of these references to Hand’s findings served as evidence of a failure on the part of police to enact his and subsequent coroners’ recommendations to introduce specialised mental health training for frontline police officers. But in NSW, the opposite was the case. In July 2007, the police had commenced a two-year pilot of the NSW Police Force MHIT, a fourday mental health training program for serving officers (later rebadged as a two-day Mental Health Enhanced Police Practice Module training program). The program is designed to improve police capacity to respond efficiently and safely to people with mental illness or to those people police perceive to be experiencing mental health problems. Officers who complete the training become accredited specialist Mental Health Intervention Officers, clearly identified by the wearing of a distinct metal MHIT badge above the nameplate on their uniforms. They also by rights, on graduation, are meant to be prioritised as first responders to mental health-related incidents within their commands—although, there is evidence to suggest that there has been slow progress made on developing criteria by which police radio operators can identify and dispatch MHIT-accredited officers to mental health-related callouts (see the coronial findings from the Inquest into the death of Courtney Topic, 2018).

114

K. Clifford

Development and delivery of the training for the NSW Police Force MHIT pilot program was designated the responsibility of a central MHIT command, which included an MHIT Commander, Education Development Officer/Analyst, Senior Policy Officer, and NSW Healthfunded Clinical Nurse Consultant. Modelled on many of the features of the Memphis CIT (discussed in more detail later in this chapter), the program features both operational and clinical content and seeks to develop the practical skills, knowledge and abilities of frontline police officers to better equip them to effectively and efficiently manage mental health-related incidents. The pilot program’s specific aims included: • A reduction in the risk of injury to police and mental health consumers when dealing with mental health-related incidents; • Improved awareness among frontline police officers of the risks involved in the interaction between police and mental health consumers; • Improved collaboration with other government and non-government agencies in the response to, and management of, mental health crisis incidents; and • Reductions in the time taken by police in the handover of mental health consumers into the healthcare system (NSW Police Force, 2008). Between February 2008 and March 2009, the education package was delivered to 40 police officers across three LACs with a fourth command included as a control site for the study. The effectiveness of the NSW Police Force MHIT pilot program was independently evaluated by a research team from Charles Sturt University, of which I was a part. We concluded favourable results. Of the 32 police officers surveyed two months after the MHIT pilot training, and the 42 surveyed 18 months after training, “only two reported that the MHIT training had not changed the way they approached mental health jobs very much. All other respondents thought their behaviour had changed at least to some extent, and half thought it had changed considerably” (Herrington, Clifford, Lawrence, Ryle, & Pope, 2009, p. 18). This was attributed to the improved mental health skills and knowledge of the police officers

3 The Search for Solutions to the Problems …

115

and, in turn, their confidence and capacity to de-escalate (or prevent the further escalation of ) mental health crisis incidents (Herrington et al., 2009). Following the success of the trial program and the positive outcomes of the independent evaluation, the NSW Police Force MHIT was endorsed as a permanent component of the NSW Police Force Policy and Programs Command, with an original target to deliver MHIT training to a minimum of 10 per cent of all frontline police officers by 2015 (NSW Police Force, 2009). By 2018, more than 2600 NSW police officers had been trained as MHIT specialists, assuming the role of first responders to mental health crises in their LACs. Another 65 officers from other policing jurisdictions in Australia and New Zealand had also completed the training (Walton, 2018). In 2014–15, a one-day mental health training and awareness package, delivered to each recruit class at the NSW Police Force Academy in Goulburn, south-west of Sydney, was rolled out to capture the 15,500 officers who had not undertaken the regular MHIT training program. This development followed the release of coronial findings into the death of Michael Capel, a resident of the Spinnakers Caravan Park in Belmont, NSW, who had been shot by police on 10 October 2008 while experiencing a psychotic episode related to his schizophrenia. Like many before him, Capel had a lengthy history of mental health problems and, on the day of his death, had exhibited behaviour consistent with a person experiencing delusional beliefs, resulting in Capel assaulting his mother and another person who had come to her aid. Evidence suggests he later threatened police with a knife. As part of his coronial findings, handed down three years later, Deputy State Coroner Paul MacMahon recommended that the Commissioner of Police consider the development of a training module, in addition to the provision of the four-day MHIT course, for GD officers “to assist them in dealing with mentally ill persons” and that “such a training module, when developed, form part of the mandatory training obligations of general duties officers” (Inquest into the death of Michael Vanquelef Capel , 2011, p. 1). Now past its tenth year of delivery, the NSW Police Force MHIT education package has become “an established name among Australasian police” and the “mental health service delivery community” in the state

116

K. Clifford

(Donohue & Andrews, 2013, p. 70). A re-evaluation of the program, funded by the NSW Mental Health Commission and commenced in 2015 by an independent team of researchers from the University of Wollongong, confirmed it as ‘best practice’ within the field of policing and mental health (Walton 2018). Prior to the introduction of the four-day course and its one-day complement, most police officers in NSW received only a cursory education in how to deal with mentally distressed individuals. For some like Andrew Rich— the plain-clothes police officer who shot 24-year-old Elijah Holcombe in an Armidale laneway in June 2009, while Holcombe was experiencing a mental health breakdown characterised by paranoia (particularly about police) and delusions—this equated to a “basic one hour lecture” on mental health issues as a trainee officer and “two required online modules subsequently” (Former NSW State Coroner Mary Jerram cited in Finding after an inquest into the death of Elijah Holcombe, 2014, p. 10). Rich’s experience is not an isolated one. Police recruits in New Zealand reportedly receive a total of eight hours dedicated mental health training during their 16 weeks at police college, completing three e-mental health modules in the five weeks after they graduate (Stewart, 2018). The mental health education for new police officers in Canada varies from anywhere between 1 to 24 hours, with most officers receiving less than 10 hours of education (Stanyon et al., 2014, p. 55). In the United States, new police cadets nationally receive approximately 840 hours of instruction at police academies. On average, only 10 of those hours is dedicated to mental health awareness (Ade, Ou, & Cahana, 2019). Police in all jurisdictions undergo a significant amount of pre-service and in-service training, often to the point of training fatigue. Education about mental health forms only a small part of this requirement (Thomas & Watson, 2017)—resulting in the common and enduring perception that, as Iannelli (2020) puts it, police “spend countless hours training to kill people while engaging in comparatively little time learning techniques to keep them alive”. Despite the widespread praise of the NSW Police Force MHIT training program, in the midst of the rollout of its one-day complement, postal worker Stephen Hodge became another police shooting statistic in the state. Hodge was shot four times by police in September 2015 in

3 The Search for Solutions to the Problems …

117

the carpark of the Warners Bay post office in NSW after reports that, while intoxicated, he had confronted his manager with a large knife purchased from a local supermarket. Coronial findings show that in the lead up to his death, Hodge had endured a history of mental health and alcohol-related hospital admissions resulting from recurrent episodes of depression and possible bipolar disorder. His ability to make judgements and to form rational decisions was found to have been profoundly impaired on the day of his death; not helped by the manner of the communications exhibited by attending police officers. In response, Deputy State Coroner Teresa O’Sullivan recommended that “consideration be given to the greater integration of mental health informed training into tactical options training with an emphasis on specific deescalation techniques practiced by role play exercises” (Inquest into the death of Stephen Paul Hodge, 2018, p. 19, s. 104). The same need was identified (with reference made to O’Sullivan’s recommendation) three months later in the findings of the inquest into the death of Courtney Topic, when Deputy State Coroner Elizabeth Ryan referred 10 recommendations to the NSW Police Commissioner, including the need for a major review of police training and “the greater integration of mental health informed training into tactical options training, with an emphasis on specific de-escalation techniques” (Inquest into the death of Courtney Topic, 2018, p. 22). Ryan acknowledged that the NSW Police Force clearly understood that “responding to people in mental health crisis can be difficult and unpredictable”, and had attempted to build police skills in this area in response. But, she said, “Courtney’s inquest has exposed gaps in the way these processes work” (Inquest into the death of Courtney Topic, 2018, pp. 1–2). Although police mental health response models are typically modified and adapted to suit the specific needs of the jurisdiction in which they are introduced, around the world they have commonly fallen into one of the following four broad categories of interventions (see Reuland & Margolis, 2003): • Crisis Intervention Teams: where specially-trained patrol officers act as first responders to calls involving mental health consumers (e.g. the Memphis and Chicago Models and NSW Police Force MHIT).

118

K. Clifford

• Comprehensive Advanced Response Teams: a traditional response model, often involving specialist (tactical response) units responsible for attendance at mental health crises as part of their broader remit to respond to special population groups, with the additional requirement that mental health training is undertaken. • Joint Teams: where mental health professionals and police officers work closely together to respond to mental health crises in the community. In this model, mental health workers are often hired by police agencies and are based at police stations (e.g. the Birmingham Model), sometimes as staff embedded within the emergency call dispatch room. More recent iterations of the model include the Street Triage schemes launched across a number of jurisdictions in the United Kingdom where a police officer and mental health clinician work together to attend incidents where there are concerns about the mental state of a person reported to police. • Mobile Crisis Teams: comprised of (civilian) licensed mental health professionals who act as secondary responders to events when called on by police (e.g. the Knoxville Model and the CATT model, or its equivalent, adopted across most of Australia’s states and territories). These models of police mental health response focus more centrally on conflict resolution, tactical communications and techniques for diffusing violence—aspects of the police approach that have traditionally been absent from the training cycle. In an evaluation of several of these approaches to mental health crisis intervention in the United States, Steadman, Deane, Borum, and Morrissey (2000) compared the outcomes of the Memphis model (a CIT approach) with those of the Birmingham Model (a joint team approach) and Knoxville Model (a mobile crisis team). Statistically significant differences were found between the three. The Memphis model, for example, was found to provide a specialised response to a mental health crisis incident in 95 per cent of the events recorded during the study period. This was significantly more than the 40 per cent provided by the Knoxville mobile crisis unit, which also recorded response times that were determined as being “excessive and impractical” (Steadman et al., 2000, p. 648). In comparison, the Birmingham joint team model saw police officers on site for

3 The Search for Solutions to the Problems …

119

only 28 per cent of all mental disturbance calls. Steadman and colleagues (2000) also identified further differences between the types of disposals used by police officers across the three models. The Birmingham community service officers and Knoxville mobile crisis unit tended to either resolve most incidents on scene or refer individuals to mental health specialists (in 64 per cent and 36 per cent of all events respectively). In comparison, Steadman and colleagues (2000) noted that Memphis model police officers were more likely to transport individuals to services and/or for further mental health assessment or treatment (in 75 per cent of cases). Despite their differences, all three police mental health response models were found to reduce the incidence of inappropriate arrests of mentally ill individuals. They also facilitated more effective liaison and information sharing between mental health service providers and police officers (Sced, 2006). Similar results have been noted in evaluations of the street triage model in the United Kingdom with studies showing the delivery of a quicker and more appropriate response to mental health crises in the community, including improved service pathways for those with mental health difficulties as well as a mutual understanding of the roles and responsibilities of other agencies involved in service provision (see for example Dyer et al., 2015; Horspool et al., 2016). In terms of a ‘best practice’ model, Steadman and colleagues (2000) concluded in their study that the Memphis CIT “provides perhaps the clearest example of how this philosophy of police operations is applied to improve care for people with mental illness when they most need help” (p. 649). The Memphis CIT is now commonly accepted as “the pioneer and standard when it comes to mental health and police education and training” internationally, having had a “profound effect” on policing standards across North America, Canada and Australasia (Donohue & Andrews, 2013, p. 75).

120

K. Clifford

The Memphis Crisis Intervention Team (CIT) Model and Its Derivatives Like many other police mental health reforms of its type, the Memphis CIT originally emerged as a reflex response to the controversy surrounding a highly-publicised fatal mental health crisis intervention. At the time, community outrage had erupted in Memphis over the fatal police-involved shooting of 27-year-old mentally ill man, Joseph Dewayne Robinson (Springvale Monash Legal Service Inc, 2005). Robinson was shot in September 1987 at a downtown public housing project after lunging at police officers (a claim that was disputed by several witnesses) with the knife he had been using to self-harm. He had paranoid schizophrenia and was also possibly affected by cocaine at the time of the incident. He was shot 10 times by police and died in hospital. It was a set of circumstances “depressingly similar to some of those we still see today” (Roth, 2018, p. 244)—the difference being that many in the local community viewed the circumstances surrounding Robinson’s death as an impetus for change. Among those individuals was Sam Cochran, a then-lieutenant in the Memphis Police Department, now a retired major credited with having developed the CIT model. The Memphis CIT, as it was originally conceived, operated as a community partnership between national and state bodies, including the Memphis chapter of the Alliance for the Mentally Ill, the University of Memphis, the University of Tennessee, and the Memphis Police Department (Cochran, Deane, & Borum, 2000; Compton et al., 2006; Springvale Monash Legal Service Inc, 2005; Steadman et al., 2000). Central to the program are volunteer police officers who, in addition to performing their day-to-day duties as patrol officers, respond to calls that have been identified as being mental health-related. Selected officers undergo a specialised 40-hour training program provided by personnel from a range of backgrounds, including mental health service providers and professionals, legal experts, family advocates and, possibly most important of all, mental health-related non-government organisations (NGOs) and mental health consumers (Cochran et al., 2000; Springvale Monash Legal Service Inc, 2005). The CIT training exposes officers to

3 The Search for Solutions to the Problems …

121

widespread interaction with mentally ill individuals, with a particular focus on communication. Police officers are also trained in recognising different mental illnesses, “the medications commonly prescribed to each illness and verbalisation skills to defuse crisis episodes” (Springvale Monash Legal Service Inc, 2005, p. 28). Police emergency dispatchers are advised on how to ask relevant questions and take down information in order to detect if the situation may involve an individual experiencing mental illness. If this is indeed the case, the dispatcher assigns the call to a CIT officer (Cochran et al., 2000; Springvale Monash Legal Service Inc, 2005). Such has been the success of the Memphis CIT that estimates have it some 3000 jurisdictions have now implemented the CIT model in the United States and internationally (Thomas & Watson, 2017). The extent to which these derivative CIT programs have remained faithful to the original Memphis model depends on a number of factors, not least of all the specific needs and operating environment of the relevant police agencies and mental health services in each police jurisdiction. The NSW Police Force MHIT, for example, deviates from the Memphis model in several aspects. The training packages of many of the Memphisderived CIT models in the United States, by comparison, are more dynamic in their exposure of police officers to the points of access to mental health services in their police jurisdiction. This frequently includes visits to psychiatric emergency services. CIT officers-in-training are also encouraged to accompany case managers into the community to visit consumer-directed social centres (Teller et al., 2006). While the NSW Police Force MHIT does not include these specific features, it does offer MHIT trainees the opportunity to meet and interact with mentally ill individuals via a mental health consumer panel, and to participate in a series of role plays of mental health crisis incidents. On this basis, advocates of CIT police training initiatives, including the Memphis model and the NSW Police Force MHIT, are quick to distinguish these models from others, which simply operate as mental health training programs. Writes Cochran et al. (2000): “Among law enforcement officers it [the Memphis CIT] promotes a philosophy of responsibility and accountability to consumers of mental health services, their relatives and the community” (p. 1315).

122

K. Clifford

In this respect, the CIT model is not Sam Cochran’s only pioneering claim to fame; he has also led the charge in warning about the pitfalls of seeing mandatory CIT-style training for all police officers as a panacea to the problem of police use of force during mental health crisis interventions. For Cochran, CIT shouldn’t be a numbers game, whereby training as many police officers as possible becomes the primary objective and where, in the process, CIT is often confused with what should be mandatory de-escalation training for all frontline officers. Rather, it is about recruiting to the training the right police officers, that is, those with the disposition for this line of work and police leadership (Watson & Fulambarker, 2012). As Cochran (2016) explains: “CIT as only a training program does not nurture or engage underlying structures linking leadership with the crisis performance” (p. 5; original emphasis). But Cochran’s comments should not be misread as opposition towards any form of specialised mental health training for police. In fact, he and others of a similar viewpoint support the idea that all frontline officers should be trained in general mental health awareness and de-escalation techniques. But they argue this is better facilitated via mental health first aid training as opposed to CIT since, as the Memphis model slogan reminds us, CIT is more than just training (www.citinternational.org/). Treating it as anything less could be considered ignorant of the factors that should drive decisions about specialised mental health training for police, such as population density, proximity and availability of mental health services, volume of mental health-related contacts experienced, and size of the police command. Treating it as simply training also arguably no longer constitutes a CIT approach (Thomas & Watson, 2017). While training for training’s sake “may stave off lawsuits and garner favorable media attention”, it can “undo years of building strong relationships” and make unwilling police officers forced into the training “resentful and potentially more prone to violence against people with mental illness” (Rabb et al., 2018). This has clearly been illustrated by the experience in Portland, Oregon, where many police officers came to see CIT callouts as a burden, and tensions flared. As Rabb and colleagues (2018) point out, nine people with mental illness were killed by police in the city over a period of six years. The fatalities included James Chasse Jr, a 42-year-old local

3 The Search for Solutions to the Problems …

123

singer with schizophrenia, whose death in 2006 was particularly gruesome when he was beaten so severely by police that he sustained over 20 broken bones, a punctured lung and a torn spleen. He died on the way to hospital (Rabb et al., 2018). A United States Department of Justice (US DOJ) investigation later concluded that, rather than building empathy towards those with mental illness, the decision to deliver CIT training to all new officers had increased the animosity of police towards mentally ill citizens. The US DOJ investigation found that another part of the problem with Portland’s approach to CIT was that the program was “lacking important community collaboration”, making it difficult for the Portland Police Bureau to “understand the community it must serve and protect” (US Department of Justice Civil Rights Division, 2012, p. 21). This remains one of the primary principles of the CIT model: to “promote teamwork and enhance communication amongst law-enforcement officers, mental health professionals, [mental health] consumers… and family members, in order to provide comprehensive care to this growing population” (Springvale Monash Legal Service Inc, 2005, p. 27). Without this joined-up approach, CIT remains a policecentred model “with a strong tendency to resolve situations through arrest and other uses of force” (Vitale, 2018, p. 84).

When the Ideals of CIT Training Collide with the Realities of Police Cultures The Portland experience is by no means an isolated one; response to the model adopted by the Chicago Police Department (CPD)—known as ‘the Chicago model’—has also been marked by a similar ambivalence. Over the years, the model has been both lauded (see Canada, Angell, & Watson, 2010) and criticised, mostly because of the CPD’s perceived failure to embrace the program in practice (see Martinez, 2010). While the Chicago model was obviously aimed at providing improved police responses to mental health crises, in some commentary it has suffered the effects of being conflated with the broader policing practices of the CPD, especially its reputation for police misconduct and violence. References to ‘the Chicago model’ have often been invoked to reflect all policing

124

K. Clifford

practices of the CPD, not those specific to mental health consumers. For example, a TIME magazine article published in collaboration with The Marshall Project asked why other police jurisdictions in the United States had been encouraged to adopt the Chicago model when it had done nothing to ‘save Chicago’ from police excesses (Weichselbaum, 2016). The article’s authors argued that Chicago had been plagued by diminished public trust in police as a result of the city’s longstanding history of violence, inadequate police accountability measures and the impacts of political decision-making, including the closure of a number of mental health clinics in the city in the midst of the fiscal crisis. “All of which begs the question”, writes Weichselbaum (2016), “how a city with so many problems became the template for America’s efforts to reform policecommunity relations. If the Chicago model has failed this city, does the fault lie with the model, or with Chicago?”. The CPD has indeed experienced its own share of controversy in the wake of heated debates about police misconduct in the United States, most notably following the protests that erupted over the delayed release of dashcam video, which showed a white police officer firing 16 bullets into black teenager, Laquan McDonald, on a Chicago street in October 2014. Like James Chasse Jr’s death in Portland before it, the incident prompted the US DOJ to initiate a civil rights investigation into McDonald’s death and the activities of the CPD, particularly its use of force. During the investigation, Chicago embarked on a number of initiatives to improve policing in the city, including a pilot program of BWCs for frontline police officers. Despite such measures, there was a surge in shootings and homicides in Chicago, including those at the hands of the state. Among the fatalities was an innocent bystander, Bettie Jones, who was killed in an apartment block on the city’s west side a year after Laquan McDonald when Chicago police officer Robert Rialmo opened fire on the teenage son of Jones’ landlord while responding to reports of a domestic disturbance. The 19-year-old Quintonio LeGrier was also killed during the encounter. Calls for police assistance had been made by LeGrier himself as well as his father after LeGrier had started behaving erratically as a consequence of pre-existing mental health problems. He was carrying a baseball bat at the time of the shooting having

3 The Search for Solutions to the Problems …

125

told the 911 dispatchers that “someone is threatening my life” (Davey & Smith, 2016). Jones was accidentally hit in the chest with a bullet while standing near LeGrier when Rialmo discharged his firearm at the disturbed youth. The shooting attracted considerable attention not only for the fact that it had resulted in a bystander’s death, but because it was the first fatal police-involved shooting since the court-mandated release of the video of the Laquan McDonald incident (Hinkel, 2017). The shooting deaths of Jones and LeGrier were subsequently ruled ‘unjustified’ by Chicago police disciplinary officials, although the deaths could not have been treated more differently. While a US$16 million settlement was paid to Jones’ family—reputedly the largest ever for a shooting by Chicago police—LeGrier’s family received nothing (Hinkel, 2018; Williams & Smith, 2018). In the findings to its civil rights investigation, released in January 2017, the US DOJ concluded that the CPD displayed a culture of excessive violence. It described the killing of Laquan McDonald as “a tipping point—igniting longstanding concerns about CPD officers’ use of force, and the City’s systems for detecting and correcting the unlawful use of force” (US Department of Justice and United States Attorney’s Office for the Northern District of Illinois, 2017, p. 1). LeGrier and Jones’ deaths were later implicated as drivers for the CPD’s introduction of the use of virtual reality (VR) technology as part of the CIT training of officers in how to interact with individuals experiencing mental illness. The VR experience allows CPD police to ‘step inside’ the perspectives of both the mentally ill person and the attending police officer. Users are asked to make tactical choices between talking to the mentally ill person in distress or commanding them to drop their weapon, and between the use of a Taser or a police firearm. Based on the decisions the police officer makes, the incident is either defused or escalates. “Training in classrooms with PowerPoints, it just doesn’t work”, said Chicago Police Superintendent Eddie Johnson at the time of the program’s introduction. “We have to be more scenario based to put these officers in the moment” (Johnson cited in Rivera, 2019).

126

K. Clifford

Conclusion For Goldsworthy (2014)—himself a former detective inspector with 28 years policing experience—in high-stress situations, like mental health crisis interventions, it is probably “a predictable result that police with minimal training will go to the most powerful use of force option: the firearm”. Calls for improved mental health training of generalist police officers are therefore understandable. For one, training of this type has the potential to mitigate against inappropriate discretionary outcomes by typically emphasising tactical options such as communication and negotiation as preferred alternatives to the use of police firearms; thereby delivering presumably safer outcomes to crisis events, for police and publics alike. Qualitative data from the evaluation of the NSW Police Force MHIT pilot program support this proposition. Communication in particular was viewed by the officers surveyed post-MHIT training as an important de-escalation technique for mental health crisis interventions. Over half (55 per cent) indicated that they felt asking direct questions about a mentally ill person’s state of mind during a mental health callout increased their ability to engage with the person, often proving effective in enabling a safe resolution to the crisis event. The problem is that although communication is clearly seen to be a cornerstone of contemporary policing, across some police jurisdictions, it does not “feature as a discrete meaningful assessment item at police recruit applicant level, nor as a specific element of ongoing training across an officer’s career” (QPS Violent Confrontations Review Team, Operational Capability Command, 2016, p. 6). Another reason to therefore introduce dedicated mental health education programs is that it is difficult to hold police accountable for something for which they have not been adequately trained (Brown, 2018). But this leads to questions about the proportion of police officers that should be trained, the recommended duration of police mental health training programs, and precisely who should be trained. Specialised mental health training does not derive from a ‘one size fits all’ approach; broader recognition is needed of the fact that this type of training is not for everyone (Thomas & Watson, 2017). This is consistent with

3 The Search for Solutions to the Problems …

127

the Training and Education about Mental Illness for Police Organisations (TEMPO) model proposed by Coleman and Cotton (2014), which emphasises the need for a tiered approach to police mental health training in light of the differential levels of contact that police employees have with people with mental illness. This includes emergency call-takers and dispatchers, who may benefit from their own specialised mental health training, adapted to suit their needs to enable them to better recognise callouts as being mental health-related and requiring CIT- or MHIT-trained officer prioritisation and response. There is, after all, little point in intensively training frontline police to be mental health specialists, if those responsible for handling the emergency calls to police cannot identify where and when to send such officers. As prior evaluations of police-based mental health response models have further shown, training for training’s sake can be a fruitless enterprise and not all training is conducive to realising the progressive outcomes intended by such programs. Training that emphasises the dangers inherent to encounters with mentally ill individuals can lead to premature and excessive uses of force, while realistic training that involves role playing can significantly reduce the risk of police use of deadly force when dealing with mentally ill individuals (Cordner, 2006)—although, the evidence base on VR scenario-based training of police is yet to be developed. Prior studies have shown that although specialised mental health training can improve understandings and knowledge of mental health issues, it is sometimes harder to change police officer attitudes and behaviours (Cordner, 2006; McLean, Wolfe, Rojek, Alpert, & Smith, 2020). Police need to be receptive to the training that is provided, and the attitudinal and behavioural changes it seeks to inspire. This motivation to learn is itself subject to many variables, but can be a determining factor in whether a police training program is effective or not (Wolfe, McLean, Rojek, Alpert, & Smith, 2019). There also needs to be a sustained commitment from police officers to upholding the principles on which these specialised training programs are based, once out in the field. Despite the proliferation of CIT-style mental health training in current police training cycles, some researchers have shown that the majority of officers still primarily derive their knowledge of mental illness

128

K. Clifford

from an accumulation of “idiosyncratic experiences on-the-job and/or in their private lives” rather than the provision of formalised courses by police and other external agencies (Ogloff et al., 2013, p. 60). What police officers do know about mental disorders is “often shaped by stigma”, writes Goode (2016), with bizarre behaviour interpreted “as a prelude to violence”. Caution has therefore been advised in seeing CIT-style training as a panacea to the challenges of policing mental illness in the community and the reduction of stigmatising attitudes towards people with mental illness, despite these being some of the more obvious benefits identified in evaluations of police mental health training programs of this kind (see, for example, Franz & Borum, 2011; Steadman et al., 2000; Wells & Shafer, 2006). Contrasting findings have been noted with regards to whether CITstyle training can reduce the probability of police use of force during mental health crisis encounters (de Tribolet-Hardy et al., 2015). Figures from NSW at least suggest that the number of fatal mental health crisis interventions has declined slightly compared to the national average since the introduction of the NSW Police Force MHIT pilot program. Between 2008 and 2017, NSW police officers shot and killed an average of 1.4 mentally ill individuals each year (compared to the national average of µ = 2)—although, mentally ill individuals continued to be over-represented among the total fatal police-involved shootings recorded in the state (Open Government NSW, 2018). Lesser examined has been the question of whether the problem lies with the adequacy of mental health training for frontline police officers or in the approaches to the weapons and operational safety tactics (OST) training police receive more broadly. Over the years, there have been calls for a stronger integration of the two. The failure of attending police officers to adopt a mental health approach towards Courtney Topic while she was in distress was partly attributed by the Coroner to the “lack of integration of the skills taught in MHIT training with those in operational safety training” (Ryan cited in Inquest into the death of Courtney Topic, 2018, p. 22). Topic’s death showed that although the police response to a mentally ill person in crisis may be—as Deputy State Coroner, Magistrate Elizabeth Ryan, put it—“entirely inappropriate”, leading to “the most tragic consequences”,

3 The Search for Solutions to the Problems …

129

the fatal shooting of that individual may still not be inconsistent with police policy and procedures regarding the use of force (Inquest into the death of Courtney Topic, 2018, p. 18). More explicitly, O’Brien and Thom (2014) have argued that police weapons such as Tasers should only be provided to officers responsible for responding to mental health crises in the community if they have completed specialised mental health training, such as that associated with CIT programs. Similar recommendations were made as part of the independent evaluation of the NSW Police Force MHIT pilot program, where it was acknowledged that: Linking Taser training to mental health training is a politically charged issue for NSW Police Force, but in light of data suggesting that a high proportion of individuals who are Tasered have a mental illness, it must be considered. Whilst it is important that the two issues retain a degree of separation to avoid any allegation of police being trained to Taser mental health consumers, logic suggests that by giving officers MHIT training, they may be inoculated against the accusation (and perhaps practice) that Tasers are used as a result of misunderstanding mental health consumers’ behaviour. (Herrington et al., 2009, p. 87)

There has been some reluctance on the part of police to enact such recommendations. When the issue was raised again as part of the NSW Ombudsman’s review of police Taser use, the NSW Police Force said that it had been determined at the time to ensure that Taser use and training were based primarily on the situation confronting the police officer (e.g. imminence of the threat of physical harm), rather than the characteristics (mental health or other) of the person posing the threat in light of the need to initially train police officers “in the fundamentals of this new use of force option” (Clarke cited in NSW Ombudsman, 2012a, p. 79). “With Taser training now well advanced”, the Acting Deputy Commissioner Field Operations wrote, “the NSW Police is exploring how Taser use can be better contextualised” (Clarke cited in NSW Ombudsman, 2012a, p. 79). But rarely is information about mental illness formally integrated into OST training, despite the over-representation of mentally ill individuals among incidents involving police use of force (Coleman & Cotton, 2014).

130

K. Clifford

Forging such synergies is not the only challenge for the development of effective and sustainable police training programs that seek to better prepare frontline officers in their response to people with multiple and complex mental health needs. Perennial problems exist in relation to broader service integration and the ongoing training of police officers over the longer-term (Kane et al., 2018). This is not necessarily the result of an unwillingness on the part of police agencies to support such initiatives. More often, it relates to financial and resourcing constraints, which are customarily determined by the political will and policy priorities of the government of the day (see Donohue & Andrews, 2013). While it is not always about how much money is spent as opposed to how it is spent, for the NSW Greens MP David Shoebridge it is only with more serious investment in mental health resources and a rethinking of police mental health training that lives will be saved. He argues: “The budget allocated to the [NSW Police Force] Mental Health Intervention Team is only around $650,000 of the police’s total budget of $3,479,000,000. [By comparison] $5 million alone has been allocated for additional bullet proof vests” (Shoebridge, 2018). These are problems that are intensified by the fact that specialised mental health response models for policing, where positively received, often become victims of their own success, experiencing a surge in demand as well as in the stakeholder expectations placed upon them. A study by Teller and colleagues (2006) which explored the broader impacts of a CIT program (based on the Memphis model) on the quality and nature of police officer responses to calls involving mentally ill individuals illustrates this well. The study found that, following the implementation of the program, the number and proportion of calls to police involving individuals with a possible mental illness increased, as did both the voluntary and involuntary transportation of mentally ill persons to emergency evaluation and treatment facilities (Teller et al., 2006). An increase in the comfort levels of family members of mentally ill individuals was also noted with regards to requesting police assistance in mental health crisis situations (Teller et al., 2006). While the results of the research were therefore positive towards the police-based mental health response model, the study demonstrated that these successful

3 The Search for Solutions to the Problems …

131

outcomes can have significant resourcing implications for police agencies (Sced, 2006). For programs such as the NSW Police Force MHIT, this has the potential to hamper attempts by police to reduce, where viable, their involvement in mental health crisis incidents in the community, particularly in relation to scheduling and transportation tasks. This is further exacerbated by the challenges of geography and the logistics of rolling out a training program across the state’s rural and remote areas, where “distances are greater between hospitals and resources fewer” (Herrington et al., 2009, p. 53). One of the reasons why some researchers have therefore been critical of the framing of police training as a perceived antidote to the problems of policing mental health crises in the community is because they understand that training of this sort “cannot make an appreciable difference without additional infrastructure support for the police and for people with mental illness with whom they come into contact” (Ogloff & Thomas, 2014). The singular focus on fatal mental health crisis interventions as symptomatic of poor mental health training for police—or as events that can be remedied by the adoption of emerging police technologies—has therefore managed to sideline important and muchneeded discussions about the much broader systemic failures that lead to these situations in the first place, and the systemic fixes required. This should not preclude us from asking questions about the serious underlying, institutional problems within policing itself, or the role that specialised mental health response models and police technologies have played in placing police in opposition to the vulnerable individuals and communities they are supposed to serve and protect. As Stroud (2019) points out, the confidence that politicians and police leaders have placed in technological solutionism in particular has contributed to some of the very problems it was hoped these technologies would solve. Tasers and BWCs have, in fact, mostly managed to exacerbate the public’s feelings of unrest and distrust towards police. This is not to say that all technologies are ineffective. There are, of course, many instances in which ‘less-lethal’ weaponry of this kind have helped to de-escalate volatile confrontations. But concerns remain about the dangerous situations police may put themselves in, given the “false sense of confidence” they are encouraged to adopt in relation to these tactial options, as well as the potential

132

K. Clifford

impacts on an overreliance on emerging technologies over verbal police de-escalation, communication and negotiation skills (de Kretser cited in Sutton, 2019). As Stroud (2019) reminds us, police are hired to make our communities liveable and safe: Instilling and encouraging a sense of empathy and inquisitiveness and compassion among cops should therefore be the focus of police leaders’ attention, rather than which technologies they might use to make law enforcement simpler and more convenient. (p. 217)

Fatal mental health crisis interventions—because of their public profile—may have served as the drivers of the development of mental health education and training programs for police worldwide. But we must remember that, in Australia and other jurisdictions such as Canada, “these few serious occurrences are not representative of the totality of police interactions” with mentally ill individuals (Coleman & Cotton, 2014, p. 329). If we are to argue that improvements to the mental health system require a focus on enabling people to maintain good mental health and wellbeing, it stands to reason that, so too, specialised mental health training for police should not be solely crisis-driven or crisisoriented (Coleman & Cotton, 2014). Notwithstanding this, it would be reckless to ignore the possibility that, even with specialised mental health training, not every police officer may feel adequately equipped to deal with people in the midst of a psychiatric crisis, once they encounter them in the field. There is also the prospect, as history has shown, that even with specialised mental health training, police may still resort to the use of lethal force. Specialist training and technologies are therefore by no means the silver bullets they have been presented—and sold—to be. As difficult a thought as it is to confront, we may need to entertain the idea that the potential for negative outcomes is ever-present in highly volatile policeinvolved mental health crisis interventions, and that sometimes it can be difficult to see how else police could, or should, have reacted to the situation in the context of its circumstances. For this reason, Scharf and Binder (1983) argue that a police officer’s decision-making must be considered in terms of the criteria of reasonableness rather than the

3 The Search for Solutions to the Problems …

133

correctness of the outcome. “Viewed in terms of the distinction between reasonable and correct decisions to use deadly force”, they explain, “a shooting may be incorrect (in terms of outcome), yet reasonable given the facts known at the time” (Scharf & Binder, 1983, p. 24). Even unnecessary shootings have “causes well beyond the split-second decision to shoot, found in wider systems and contexts that allow such moments to occur” (Sherman, 2020, p. 9).

References Ade, J. (Editor/Story Producer), & Ou, E., & Cahana, K. (Director/Cinematographer). (2019). A different kind of force—Policing mental illness [Documentary]. New York: NBC Left Field. Retrieved August 7, 2019, from https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DnOLvKEYIQI. Amnesty International. (2006). USA: Amnesty International’s continuing concerns about taser use [AI Index: AMR 51/030/2006]. Amnesty International. Retrieved October 26, 2007, from http://www.amnesty.org/en/lib rary/info/AMR51/030/2006. Amnesty International. (2007, October 11). Amnesty International releases brief on U.S. tasers. Retrieved March 7, 2008, from http://www.amnesty.org.au/ news/comments/4439. Ariel, B., Farrar, W. A., & Sutherland, A. (2015). The effect of police bodyworn cameras on use of force and citizens’ complaints against the police: A randomized controlled trial. Journal of Quantitative Criminology, 31(3), 509–535. Ariel, B., Sutherland, A., Henstock, D., Young, J., Drover, P., Sykes, J., et al. (2016). Wearing body cameras increases assaults against officers and does not reduce police use of force: Results from a global multi-site experiment. European Journal of Criminology, 13(6), 744–755. Ariel, B., Sutherland, A., Henstock, D., Young, J., Drover, P., Sykes, J., et al. (2017). ‘Contagious accountability’: A global multisite randomized controlled trial on the effect of police body-worn cameras on citizens’ complaints against the police. Criminal Justice and Behavior, 44 (2), 293– 316.

134

K. Clifford

Ba, B., & Grogger, J. (2018). The introduction of Tasers and police use of force: Evidence from the Chicago Police Department (NBER Working Paper No. 24202). Cambridge, MA: The National Bureau of Economic Research. Barbour, B. (2010, March 12). The ombudsman and civil liberties: Working together to make things right. NSW Council for Civil Liberties lunch address, NSW Parliament House, Sydney, Australia. Retrieved October 21, 2010, from http://www.ombo.nsw.gov.au/publication/PDF/speeches/ SP-NSW_CCL_12Mar10.pdf. Barns, M. (2015, January 5). Are wearable police cameras a good idea? The Drum. Retrieved June 10, 2015, from http://www.abc.net.au/news/201501-05/barns-should-police-be-wearing-video-cameras/5997296. Bodkin, P. (2012a, October 10). Death by Taser. The Daily Telegraph, p. 3. Bodkin, P. (2012b, October 16). ‘Half a tonne of police officers’ piled on top of tasered Brazilian student. The Daily Telegraph, p. 7. Bodkin, P. (2012c, October 19). Taser cops ‘were brutal’. The Daily Telegraph, p. 9. Brown, M. (2018, August 23). Policing and mental health: Fixing symptoms and ignoring problems. Melbourne Social Equity Institute and Forensicare Public Lecture, University of Melbourne, Australia. Canada, K. E., Angell, B., & Watson, A. C. (2010). Crisis intervention teams in Chicago: Successes on the ground. Journal of Police Crisis Negotiations, 10 (1–2), 86–100. Chan, J. (2003). Police and new technologies. In T. Newburn (Ed.), Handbook of policing (pp. 655–679). Collumpton, Devon: Willan Publishing. Clifford, K., & White, R. (2017). Media and crime: Content, context and consequence. South Melbourne: Oxford University Press. Cochran, S. (2016). CIT…more than just training: Identity and ownership of CIT—The MORE AND You can’t have a journey without a destination [Letter]. Retrieved August 9, 2018, from http://www.citinternational.org/ resources/Pictures/CIT%20LETTER%20%20from%20Sam%20Final% 20vs%204%20Final.pdf. Cochran, S., Deane, M. W., & Borum, R. (2000). Improving police response to mentally ill people. Psychiatric Services, 51(10), 1315–1316. Cochrane, J. (2018, February 21). Lack of transparency on taser use in NSW . New South Wales Council for Civil Liberties [Blog post]. Retrieved January 1, 2019, from https://www.nswccl.org.au/lack_of_transparency_on_taser_ use_in_nsw. Coleman, T. G., & Cotton, D. H. (2016). A strategic approach to police interactions with people with a mental illness. Journal of Community Safety &

3 The Search for Solutions to the Problems …

135

Well-Being, 1(2) [Open Access]. https://journalcswb.ca/index.php/cswb/art icle/view/9/24. Coleman, T. G., & Cotton, D. H. (2014). TEMPO: A contemporary model for police education and training about mental illness. International Journal of Law and Psychiatry, 37 (4), 325–333. Compton, M. T., Esterberg, M. L., McGee, R., Kotwicki, R. J., & Oliva, J. R. (2006). Crisis intervention team training: Changes in knowledge, attitudes, and stigma related to schizophrenia. Psychiatric Services, 57 (8), 1199–1202. ‘Considering police body cameras: Developments in the Law’. (2015, April). Harvard Law Review, 128(6), 1794–1817. Cordner, G. (2006). People with mental illness: Problem-oriented guides for police problem-specific guides series. Washington, DC: U.S. Department of Justice, Office of Community Oriented Policing Services. Coronial inquest into the death of Ali Hamie. (2002, February 1). NSW Coroner’s Court, Glebe. Coudert, F., Butin, D., & Le Me´tayer, D. (2015). Body-worn cameras for police accountability: Opportunities and risks. Computer Law & Security Review, 31(6), 749–762. Culhane, S. E., Boman, J. H., & Schweitzer, K. (2016). Public perceptions of the justifiability of police shootings: The role of body cameras in a pre- and post-Ferguson experiment. Police Quarterly, 19 (3), 251–274. Davey, M., & Smith, M. (2016, January 25). Man killed by Chicago police called 911 before being shot. The New York Times. Retrieved August 9, 2018, from https://www.nytimes.com/2016/01/26/us/man-killed-by-chi cago-police-called-911-before-being-shot.html?_r=0. DeGregory, P. (2019, April 30). PBA lawsuit to block release of bodycam footage takes a hit. New York Post. Retrieved June 3, 2019, from https://nypost.com/2019/04/30/pba-lawsuit-to-block-release-of-bodycam-footage-takes-a-hit/. de Tribolet-Hardy, F., Kesic, D., & Thomas, S. D. M. (2015). Police management of mental health crisis situations in the community: Status quo, current gaps and future directions. Policing and Society: An International Journal of Research and Policy, 25 (3), 294–307. Donohue, D., & Andrews, G. (2013). NSW Police Force Mental Health Intervention Team: Forging a new path forward in mental health and policing in the community. In D. Chappell (Ed.), Policing and the mentally ill: International perspectives (pp. 65–104). Boca Raton, FL: CRC Press/Taylor & Francis.

136

K. Clifford

Dow, A. (2018, November 15). The patient had planned his suicide: But the crisis team was busy. The Age. Retrieved October 19, 2019, from https://www.theage.com.au/politics/victoria/the-patient-had-plannedhis-suicide-but-the-crisis-team-was-busy-20181106-p50edk.html. Dyer, W., Steer, M., & Biddle, P. (2015). Mental health street triage. Policing: A Journal of Policy and Practice, 9 (4), 377–387. Eisler, P., Szep, J., Reid, T., & Smith, G. (2017a, August 22). Shock tactics | Part 1: The toll . Retrieved August 22, 2018, from https://www.reuters.com/ investigates/special-report/usa-taser-911/. Eisler, P., Szep, J., Reid, T., & Smith, G. (2017b, August 24). Special report: A 911 plea for help, a Taser shot and the toll of stun guns. Reuters. Retrieved August 22, 2018, from https://www.reuters.com/article/usa-taser-911call/ special-report-a-911-plea-for-help-a-taser-shot-and-the-toll-of-stun-gunsidUSKCN1B21AK. Elinson, Z. (2018, November 28). When mental-health experts, not police, are the first responders. The Wall Street Journal . Retrieved October 9, 2019, from https://www.wsj.com/articles/when-mental-health-experts-notpolice-are-the-first-responders-1543071600. Fan, M. D. (2016). Privacy, public disclosure, police body cameras: Policy splits. Alabama Law Review, 68(2), 395–444. Finding after an inquest into the death of Elijah Holcombe. (2014, May 1). Chambers, Glebe. https://coroners.nsw.gov.au/documents/findings/2014/eli jah%20holcombe%20findings.pdf. Franz, S., & Borum, R. (2011). Crisis intervention teams may prevent arrests of people with mental illnesses. Police Practice and Research, 12(3), 265–272. Fuller, D.A., Lamb, H.R., Biasotti, M., & Snook, J. (2015). Overlooked in the undercounted: The role of mental illness in fatal law enforcement encounters. Arlington, VA: Treatment Advocacy Center. Retrieved April 7, 2017, from http://www.treatmentadvocacycenter.org/evidence-and-research/studies. Geller, J. L. (2008). Commentary: Is CIT today’s lobotomy. Journal of the American Academy of Psychiatry and the Law, 36 (1), 56–58. Goldsworthy, T. (2014, November 25). Shoot to kill: The use of lethal force by police in Australia. The Conversation. Retrieved January 27, 2019, from https://theconversation.com/shoot-to-kill-the-use-of-lethalforce-by-police-in-australia-34578. Goode, E. (2016, April 25). For police, a playbook for conflicts involving mental illness. The New York Times. Retrieved August 9, 2018, from https://www.nytimes.com/2016/04/26/health/police-mental-illness-cri sis-intervention.html.

3 The Search for Solutions to the Problems …

137

Goodyear, D. (2018, August 27). Can the manufacturer of tasers provide the answer to police abuse? The New Yorker. Retrieved August 22, 2018, from https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2018/08/27/can-themanufacturer-of-tasers-provide-the-answer-to-police-abuse. Griffith, G. (2009, August). Tasers—Developments, findings and recommendations [E-Brief ]. Sydney, NSW: NSW Parliamentary Library Research Service. Hendy, R. (2014). Routinely armed and unarmed police: What can the Scandinavian experience teach us? Policing, 8(2), 183–192. Herrington, V., Clifford, K., Lawrence, P. F., Ryle, S., & Pope, R. (2009). The impact of the NSW Police Force Mental Health Intervention Team: Final evaluation report. Sydney, NSW: Charles Sturt University Centre for Inland Health and Australian Graduate School of Policing. Hinkel, D. (2017, December 29). Chicago police watchdog rules 2015 shooting of Quintonio LeGrier and Bettie Jones was unjustified. Chicago Tribune. Retrieved July 25, 2018, from http://www.chicagotribune.com/ news/local/breaking/ct-met-legrier-jones-shooting-unjustified-20171228story.html. Hinkel, D. (2018, June 12). City reaches $16 million settlement over innocent bystander shot dead by cop. Chicago Tribune. Retrieved July 25, 2018, from http://www.chicagotribune.com/news/local/breaking/ct-met-bet tie-jones-settlement-20180611-story.html. Horspool, K., Drabble, S. J., & O’Cathain, A. (2016). Implementing street triage: A qualitative study of collaboration between police and mental health services. BMC Psychiatry, 16 (313). [Open Access]. https://doi.org/10.1186/ s12888-016-1026-z. Howie, E. (2010, November 2). Tasers are Lethal Weapons and must be regulated and restricted as such. Human Rights Law Centre [Blog post]. Retrieved July 12, 2019, from https://www.hrlc.org.au/opinion/tasers-are-lethal-weaponsand-must-be-regulated-and-restricted-as-such. Iannelli, J. (2020, July 2). LAPD officer who killed man in mental health crisis is a gun-toting social media star. The Appeal . Retrieved July 4, 2020, from https://theappeal.org/lapd-killing-social-media/. Inquest into the death of Courtney Topic . (2018, July 30). NSW Coroner’s Court, Glebe. https://coroners.nsw.gov.au/documents/findings/2018/Cou rtney%20Topic%20findings.pdf. Inquest into the death of Michael Vanquelef Capel . (2011, September 8). Newcastle Court House, NSW.

138

K. Clifford

Inquest into the death of Roberto Laudisio Curti. (2012, November 14). NSW State Coroner’s Court, Glebe. https://coroners.nsw.gov.au/documents/fin dings/2012/curti_decision_14_nov_2012.pdf. Inquest into the death of Stephen Paul Hodge. (2018, April 20). State Coroner’s Court, Glebe NSW. https://coroners.nsw.gov.au/documents/findings/2018/ Hodge%20Findings.pdf. IPCC. (2014). IPCC review of Taser complaints and incidents 2014–2013. London: Independent Police Complaints Commission. Jennings, W. G., Fridell, L. A., & Lynch, M. D. (2014). Cops and cameras: Officer perceptions of the use of body-worn cameras in law enforcement. Journal of Criminal Justice, 42(6), 549–556. Kane, E., Evans, E., & Shokraneh, F. (2018). Effectiveness of current policingrelated mental health interventions: A systematic review. Criminal Behaviour and Mental Health, 28(2), 108–119. Kidd, J. (2015, September 17). NSW police issued body cameras to record interactions, gather video evidence. ABC News. Retrieved May 31, 2019, from https://www.abc.net.au/news/2015-09-17/nsw-police-to-wearbody-cameras/6783862. Kindy, K. (2019, January 21). Some U.S. police departments dump bodycamera programs amid high costs. The Washington Post. Retrieved June 3, 2019, from https://www.washingtonpost.com/national/some-us-policedepartments-dump-body-camera-programs-amid-high-costs/2019/01/21/ 991f0e66-03ad-11e9-b6a9-0aa5c2fcc9e4_story.html?utm_term=.66827b 3b3c0e. Knowles, L. (2016, August 26). Roberto Curti: Millions of taxpayer dollars spent defending NSW police involved in taser death. ABC News. Retrieved July 15, 2019, from https://www.abc.net.au/news/2016-08-26/robert-curtipolice-spent-millions-defending-officers-over-taser/7788018. Kulmala, T. (2017, August 9). ‘Not film directors’: Richland deputies testing gun-activated body cameras. The State. Retrieved January 29, 2019, from https://www.thestate.com/news/local/crime/article166309462.html. Lawrence, D. S., McClure, D., Malm, A., Lynch, M., & La Vigne, N. (2019). Activation of body-worn cameras: Variation by officer, over time, and by policing activity. Criminal Justice Review, 44 (3), 339–355. Lawrence, R. G. (2000). The politics of force: Media and the construction of police brutality. Berkeley and Los Angeles, CA: University of California Press. Lum, C., Stoltz, M., Koper, C. S., & Scherer, J. A. (2019). Research on bodyworn cameras: What we know, what we need to know. Criminology & Public Policy, 18(1), 93–118.

3 The Search for Solutions to the Problems …

139

Lyneham, M., & Chan, A. (2013). Deaths in custody in Australia to 30 June 2011: Twenty years of monitoring by the National Deaths in Custody Program since the Royal Commission into Aboriginal Deaths in Custody. Canberra, ACT: Australian Institute of Criminology. Retrieved June 10, 2015, from http://www.aic.gov.au/publications/mr/mr20. Martinez, L. E. (2010). Police departments’ response in dealing with persons with mental illness. Journal of Police Crisis Negotiations, 10 (1), 166–174. McLean, K., Wolfe, S. E., Rojek, J., Alpert, G. P., & Smith, M. R. (2020). Randomized controlled trial of social interaction police training. Criminology & Public Policy, 19 (3), 805–832. Meares, T. L., & Tyler, T. R. (2020, June 8). The first step is figuring out what police are for. The Atlantic. Retrieved June 9, 2020, from https://www.theatlantic.com/ideas/archive/2020/06/first-step-figuringout-what-police-are/612793/. Milbank, Tweed, Hadley, & McCloy. (2018, July 24). Milbank and civil rights group NYLPI file lawsuit in supreme court of New York for bodycam footage from first fatal police shooting since NYPD bodycam program took effect [Webpage]. Retrieved July 27, 2018, from https://www.milbank.com/en/ news/milbank-and-civil-rights-group-nylpi-file-lawsuit-in-supreme-court-ofnew-york-for-bodycam-footage-from-first-fatal-police-shooting-since-nypdbodycam-program-took-effect.html. Millington, B., Rubbo, L., & Thomas, S. (2019, August 1). Fatal police shooting of mentally ill Taree man prompts calls for better officer training. ABC News. Retrieved August 1, 2019, from https://www.abc.net.au/news/ 2019-08-01/taree-police-shoot-dead-mentally-ill-man-after-standoff/113 74086. Moor, K. (2005, November 26). Ill need proper care—Police. Herald Sun, p. 17. Newell, B. C. (2019). Context, visibility and control: Police work and the contested objectivity of bystander video. New Media & Society, 21(1), 60– 76. NSW Ombudsman. (2008). The use of Taser weapons by New South Wales Police Force: A special report to Parliament under section 31 of the Ombudsman Act 1974. Sydney, NSW: NSW Ombudsman. NSW Ombudsman. (2010). Annual report 2009/2010. Retrieved October 22, 2010, from http://www.ombo.nsw.gov.au/publication/PDF/annualrep ort/09-10/AR_Ombo09_Oct10.pdf. NSW Ombudsman. (2012a). How are Taser weapons used by the NSW Police Force? Sydney, NSW: NSW Ombudsman. Retrieved December 28, 2012,

140

K. Clifford

from http://www.ombo.nsw.gov.au/news-and-publications/publications/rep orts/police/how-are-taser-weapons-used-by-nsw-police-force. NSW Ombudsman. (2012b, October 23). Ombudsman makes recommendations for stricter, safer and more accountable Taser use [Media release]. Sydney, NSW: NSW Ombudsman. Retrieved December 28, 2012, from https:// www.ombo.nsw.gov.au/__data/assets/pdf_file/0011/6977/Media-releaseTaser-report-23-October-2012.pdf. NSW Police Force. (2008). Mental health—Introduction: Mental health intervention team [Online document]. Retrieved September 19, 2008, from http://www.police.nsw.gov.au/community_issues/mental_health. NSW Police Force. (2009, December). Mental health intervention team newsletter—December 2009. Retrieved June 29, 2010, from http://www.pol ice.nsw.gov.au. NSW Police Force. (2016). Use of conducted electrical weapons (Taser): Major events & incidents group. Sydney: NSW Police Force. Retrieved June 24, 2018, from https://www.police.nsw.gov.au/__data/assets/pdf_file/0007/456 523/TASER_Use_Public_Information.pdf. NSW Police Force. (2018). Body worn video [Flyer]. Retrieved January 29, 2019, from https://www.police.nsw.gov.au/__data/assets/pdf_file/0008/586 484/Updated_Brochure_BWV.pdf. NYC PBA. (2018, September 1). Patrolmen’s Benevolent Association of the City of New York, Inc., against Bill de Blasio in his official capacity as Mayor of the City of New York, City of New York, James P. O’Neill in his official capacity as Commissioner of the New York City Police Department, and New York City Police Department. Index No. 150181/2018 [Supreme Court Petition]. Retrieved June 3, 2019, from https://www.nycpba.org/press-releases/ 2018/pba-files-suit/. NYLPI. (2018, July 19). New York lawyers for the public interest against New York City Police Department and James P. O’Neill [Supreme Court Petition]. Retrieved June 3, 2019, from https://nylpi.org/case/nylpi-v-nypd/. NYPD. (2019). NYPD completes rollout of body-worn cameras to all officers on patrol [Media Release]. Retrieved June 6, 2019, from https://www1.nyc. gov/site/nypd/news/pr0306/nypd-completes-rollout-body-worn-camerasall-officers-patrol#/0. O’Brien, A. J., & Thom, K. (2014). Police use of TASER devices in mental health emergencies: A review. International Journal of Law and Psychiatry, 37 (4), 420–426. Ogloff, J., & Thomas, S. (2014, March 4). Training police to better respond to people with mental illness. The Conversation. Retrieved March 12,

3 The Search for Solutions to the Problems …

141

2017, from https://theconversation.com/training-police-to-better-respondto-people-with-mental-illness-23651. Ogloff, J. R. P., Thomas, S. D. M., Luebbers, S., Baksheev, G., Elliott, I., Godfredson, J., et al. (2013). Policing services with mentally ill people: Developing greater understanding and best practice. Australian Psychologist, 48(1), 57–68. Open Government NSW. (2018). GIPA to police: Deaths from police operations. Retrieved June 24, 2018, from http://opengovernmentnsw.org.au/dow nload/gipa-to-police-deaths-from-police-operations/. Owens, C., & Finn, W. (2018). Body-worn video through the lens of a cluster randomized controlled trial in London: Implications for future research. Policing: A Journal of Policy and Practice, 12(1), 77–82. Patty, A. (2008, May 19). He’d be alive if we had tasers: Police chief. The Sydney Morning Herald , p. 3. Pearce, M. (2014, September 27). Growing use of police body cameras raises privacy concerns. Los Angeles Times. Retrieved June 3, 2019, from https:// www.latimes.com/nation/la-na-body-cameras-20140927-story.html. PERF. (2018, April). Costs and benefits of body-worn camera deployments: Final report. Washington, DC: Police Executive Research Forum. Pesutto, J. (2019, June 9). A fine line between being just and being seen to be just. The Age, p. 36. Peterson, B. E., & Lawrence, D. S. (2019, January). Body cameras and policing. Oxford Research Encyclopedia of Criminology and Criminal Justice. Retrieved June 1, 2019, from https://oxfordre.com/criminology/view/10. 1093/acrefore/9780190264079.001.0001/acrefore-9780190264079-e-524. Phelps, J. M., Strype, J., Le Bellu, S., Lahlou, S., & Aandal, J. (2018). Experiential learning and simulation-based training in Norwegian Police education: Examining body-worn video as tool to encourage reflection. Policing: A Journal of Policy and Practice, 12(1), 50–65. Premier of New South Wales. (2009, September 6). NSW Government Delivers Tasers for NSW Police. [Media Release]. Retrieved September 27, 2009, from http://www.police.nsw.gov.au/about_us/?a=161991. QPS Violent Confrontations Review Team, Operational Capability Command. (2016). QPS violent confrontations review. Brisbane: Queensland Police Service. Retrieved August 20, 2020, from https://www.police.qld.gov.au/que ensland-police-service-corporate-documents/reports-and-publications. Queensland Crime and Misconduct Commission. (2008). Tasers: A brief overview of the research literature (Research & Issues Paper Series, No. 8,

142

K. Clifford

November 2008). Fortitude Valley, QLD: Crime and Misconduct Commission. Rabb, D., Karim, A. A., Mirza, M. Z., & Rosengarten, A. (2018, June 8). In Milwaukee, $1.2 million police mental health training plan misses the mark. Milwaukee Sentinel Journal Retrieved August 9, 2018, from https://www.jsonline.com/story/news/investigations/2018/06/ 08/resentful-officers-dub-mental-health-program-hug-thug/680618002/. Reuland, M., & Margolis, G. (2003). Police approaches that improve the responses to people with mental illnesses: A focus on victims. The Police Chief: The Professional Voice of Law Enforcement, 70 (11), 7. Rivera, M. (2019, May 23). Chicago police using virtual reality for mental health crisis training. ABC7 Eyewitness News. Retrieved July 21, 2019, from https://abc7chicago.com/cpd-using-virtual-reality-for-men tal-health-crisis-training/5312983/. Robertson, J. (2014, November 25). Queensland police shootings to be reviewed after four deaths in two months. The Guardian. Retrieved January 27, 2019, from https://www.theguardian.com/australia-news/2014/nov/ 25/queensland-police-shootings-to-be-reviewed-after-four-deaths-in-twomonths. Roth, A. (2018). Insane: America’s criminal treatment of mental illness. New York: Basic Books. Sanburn, J. (2014, August 15). Why cops in Ferguson don’t have body cameras. TIME . Retrieved June 7, 2019, from http://time.com/3114329/fergusonmichael-brown-police-body-cameras/. Sced, M. (2006). Mental illness in the community: The role of police. ACPR Issues No. 3. Retrieved October 9, 2006, from http://www.acpr.gov.au/pdf/ Iss_3%20Mental.pdf. Scharf, P., & Binder, A. (1983). The badge and the bullet: Police use of deadly force. New York: Praeger. Schneider, C. J. (2016). Policing and social media: Social control in an era of new media. Lanham, MD: Lexington Books. Schneider, C. J. (2018). Body worn cameras and police image work: News media coverage of the Rialto Police department’s body worn camera experiment. Crime Media Culture, 14 (3), 449–466. Sherman, L. W. (2020). Evidence-based policing and fatal police shootings: Promise, problems and prospects. The ANNALS of the American Academy of Political and Social Science, 687 (1), 8–26.

3 The Search for Solutions to the Problems …

143

Shoebridge, D. (2012, March 20). Tasers don’t reduce police firearms use—Review required [Media opinion piece]. Retrieved July 15, 2019, from https://dav idshoebridge.org.au/2012/03/20/tasers-dont-reduce-police-firearms-use/. Simmons, A. (2012, March 29). A history of Tasers in Australia. ABC News. Retrieved July 15, 2019, from https://www.abc.net.au/news/2012-03-23/tas ers-in-australia/3905914. Shoebridge, D. (2018, March 5). Police are undertrained and without support, people with mental illness are paying with their lives [Media Release]. Retrieved June 22, 2018, from http://davidshoebridge.org.au/2018/03/05/ media-release-police-are-undertrained-and-without-support-people-withmental-illness-are-paying-with-their-lives/. Smith, J. J. (2019). To adopt or not to adopt: Contextualizing police bodyworn cameras through structural contingency and institutional theoretical perspectives. Criminal Justice Review, 44 (3), 369–385. Smykla, J. O., Crow, M. S., Crichlow, V. J., & Snyder, J. A. (2016). Police body-worn cameras: Perceptions of law enforcement leadership. American Journal of Criminal Justice, 41(3), 424–443. Snyder, J. A., Crow, M. S., & Smykla, J. O. (2019). Police officer and supervisor perceptions of body-worn cameras pre- and postimplementation: The importance of officer buy-in. Criminal Justice Review, 44 (3), 322–338. Southall, A., & Goldstein, J. (2017, September 14). Police release body camera footage of shooting death in Bronx. The New York Times. Retrieved July 27, 2018, from https://www.nytimes.com/2017/09/14/nyregion/policebody-camera-footage-new-york.html. Southall, A., & Mays, J. C. (2017, September 7). Police consider releasing body camera footage in fatal Bronx shooting. The New York Times. Retrieved July 27, 2018, from https://www.nytimes.com/2017/09/07/nyregion/bronx-pol ice-shooting-body-cameras.html. Springvale Monash Legal Service Inc. (2005). Police training and mental illness—A time for change. Springvale, VIC: Springvale Monash Legal Service Inc. Retrieved August 4, 2006, from http://www.smls.com.au. Squires, P. (2017, February 14). Police prefer to carry tasers—But would that make anyone safer? The Conversation. Retrieved July 12, 2019, from https://theconversation.com/police-prefer-to-carry-tasers-butwould-that-make-anyone-safer-71646. Stanyon, W., Goodman, B., & Whitehouse, M. (2014). Using simulation to educate police about mental illness: A collaborative initiative. Gateways: International Journal of Community Research and Engagement, 7 (1), 52–66.

144

K. Clifford

State Coroner’s Office. (2001). Report by the NSW State Coroner into the deaths in custody/police operations 2001. Sydney: NSW Attorney General’s Department. Steadman, H. J., Deane, M. W., Borum, R., & Morrissey, J. P. (2000). Comparing outcomes of major models of police responses to mental health emergencies. Psychiatric Services, 51(5), 645–649. Stewart, M. (2018, July 23). Police recruits get just eight hours training for dealing with mental health callouts. stuff.co.nz. Retrieved August 2, 2018, from https://www.stuff.co.nz/national/health/105550920/Police-rec ruits-get-just-eight-hours-training-for-dealing-with-mental-health-callouts. Stroud, M. (2019). Thin blue lie: The failure of high-tech policing. New York: Metropolitan Books, Henry Holt and Company. Sutton, M. (2019, October 19). Batman-style gun offered to Australian police as ‘less painful alternative’ to pepper spray and tasers. ABC News. Retrieved October 19, 2019, from https://www.abc.net.au/news/2019-10-19/batmangun-lands-in-australia-as-weapon-alternative/11608214. ‘Taser Firestorm’. (2012, March 21). The Daily Telegraph, p. 1. Taylor, E. (2016). Lights, camera, redaction…police body-worn cameras: Autonomy, discretion and accountability. Surveillance & Society, 14 (1), 128–132. Taylor, E., Lee, M., Willis, M., & Gannoni, A. (2017). Police detainee perspectives on police body-worn cameras [Trends & issues in crime and criminal justice, no. 537, October]. Canberra, ACT: Australian Institute of Criminology. Teller, J. L. S., Munetz, M. R., Gil, K. M., & Ritter, C. (2006). Crisis intervention team training for police officers responding to mental disturbance calls. Psychiatric Services, 57 (2), 232–237. The Leadership Conference on Civil and Human Rights & Upturn. (2017). Police body worn cameras: A policy scorecard . Retrieved January 30, 2019, from https://www.bwcscorecard.org/. Thomas, S., & Watson, A. (2017). A focus for mental health training for police. Journal of Criminological Research, Policy and Practice, 3(2), 93–104. Thompson, J. B. (2005). The new visibility. Theory, Culture & Society, 22(6), 31–51. U.S. Department of Justice. (2015, September 21). Justice department awards over $23 million in funding for body worn camera pilot program to support law enforcement agencies in 32 states [Media Release]. Retrieved June 3, 2019, from https://www.justice.gov/opa/pr/justice-department-awards-over-23-mil lion-funding-body-worn-camera-pilot-program-support-law.

3 The Search for Solutions to the Problems …

145

U.S. Department of Justice Civil Rights Division. (2012). Investigation of the Portland Police Bureau [Letter of Findings]. Washington, DC: U.S. Department of Justice. Retrieved August 9, 2018, from https://www.justice.gov/ iso/opa/resources/9362012917111254750409.pdf. U.S. Department of Justice & United States Attorney’s Office for the Northern District of Illinois. (2017, January 13). Investigation of the Chicago police department. Retrieved June 3, 2019, from https://www.justice.gov/opa/file/ 925846/download. Vitale, A. S. (2018). The end of policing. London and New York: Verso. Walton, M. (2018). Corporate sponsor’s message: Assistant commissioner Mark Walton APM, corporate sponsor—Mental health. Retrieved July 18, 2019, from https://www.police.nsw.gov.au/safety_and_prevention/your_c ommunity/mental_health. Watson, A. C., & Fulambarker, A. J. (2012). The crisis intervention team model of police response to mental health crises: A primers for mental health practitioners. Best Practices in Mental Health: An International Journal, 8(2), 71–81. Weichselbaum, S. (2016, April 19). The ‘Chicago model’ of policing hasn’t saved Chicago: Why is everyone else copying it? The Marshall Project. Retrieved July 23, 2018, from https://www.themarshallproject.org/2016/04/ 19/the-chicago-model-of-policing-hasn-t-saved-chicago. Welch, D., & Taflaga, M. (2010, July 6). Taser abuse covered up by police. The Sydney Morning Herald , p. 1. Wells, W., & Schafer, J. J. (2006). Officer perceptions of police responses to persons with a mental illness. Policing: An International Journal of Police Strategies and Management, 29 (4), 578–601. White Bird Clinic. (n.d.). CAHOOTS FAQ [Webpage]. Retrieved October 19, 2019, from https://whitebirdclinic.org/cahoots-faq/. Williams, T., & Smith, M. (2018, June 28). $16 million vs. $4: In fatal police shootings, payouts vary widely. The New York Times. Retrieved July 23, 2019, from https://www.nytimes.com/2018/06/28/us/police-shootings-pay outs.html. Williams, T., Thomas, J., Jacoby, S., & Cave, D. (2016, April 1). Police body cameras: What do you see? The New York Times. Retrieved July 15, 2019, from https://www.nytimes.com/interactive/2016/04/01/us/police-bodycamvideo.html?_r=0. Wolfe, S. E., McLean, K., Rojek, J., Alpert, G. P., & Smith, M. R. (2019). Advancing a theory of police officer training motivation and receptivity.

146

K. Clifford

Justice Quarterly [Online First]. https://doi.org/10.1080/07418825.2019. 1703027. Yokum, D., Ravishankar, A., & Coppock, A. (2019). A randomized control trial evaluating the effects of police body-worn cameras. Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences of the United States of America, 116 (21), 10329–10332. Young, J. T. N., & Ready, J. T. (2018). A longitudinal analysis of the relationship between administrative policy, technological preferences, and body-worn camera activation among police officers. Policing: A Journal of Policy and Practice, 12(1), 27–42. Zhou, N. (2018, February 19). Police say mentally ill man who died after being tasered was ‘aggressive’. The Guardian. Retrieved February 3, 2019, from https://www.theguardian.com/australia-news/2018/feb/19/ police-say-mentally-ill-man-who-died-after-being-tasered-was-aggressive.

4 Making Sense of Fatal Mental Health Crisis Interventions

Police technologies and specialised mental health training programs such as those discussed in the previous chapter are obviously aimed at promoting greater trust and accountability, least restrictive outcomes to police-involved mental health crisis interventions and a safer and more dignified handling and transfer of mentally ill individuals. To be truly effective, this generally requires financial and technical resources, but also improvements in the mental health literacy of frontline police officers, their risk communications, conflict resolution skills, and ability to empathise and negotiate with mentally ill individuals in crisis. Despite such advances, in Australia—as in other democratic countries—mental illness continues to be a significant predictive factor in the police use of lethal force (Rossler & Terrill, 2017). Which begs the question: Where do the failures lie in police reform cycles? Have the policing principles that underscore mental health response models and specialised training programs not translated into policing practice? Do police still have more to learn? Could it be, as Ian Hickie, Professor of Psychiatry at Sydney University’s Brain and Mind Centre suggests, that what is “entirely predictable in these situations…is that they will recur” © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 K. Clifford, Policing, Mental Illness and Media, Palgrave Studies in Crime, Media and Culture, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-61490-4_4

147

148

K. Clifford

without systemic changes to Australia’s mental health services (cited in McDermott, 2012)? Or is it that there are some aspects of mental health crisis interventions that are so unique compared to other everyday interactions between police and mentally ill individuals that no manner of least restrictive measures can neutralise the potential for a fatal outcome to these encounters? In other words, is there a tragic inevitability to highly volatile mental health crisis interventions where police are the first line of response? In seeking answers to these questions, researchers have commonly turned to analyses of police shooting behaviours and the influence of organisational culture and police attitudes towards mental illness as predictive determinants of the decision to use lethal force against people in the midst of a mental health crisis. Finding a consensus view on what constitutes ‘force’ however can be a challenge, given the extent to which perspectives differ on its definition. In most Australian jurisdictions, the success of a police operation is measured against the principle of ‘minimum force’—that police officers have used the minimum degree of force necessary in the circumstances and that the force used has therefore been reasonable (Brouwer, 2005; Police Commissioners’ Policy Advisory Group, 1992; Waddington, 1991). But legal standards and police protocols do not always marry with community standards and expectations. What constitutes ‘force’—but particularly reasonable force—differs according to who is doing the defining, including from person to person in a crisis, as well as from other police encounters involving less-volatile circumstances. Police presence, for example, is rarely defined as a show of force. This is despite research that indicates the presence of a uniformed police officer during a mental health crisis intervention can have the same effect in controlling the behaviour of another person as other more coercive tactical options, such as the use of mechanical restraint devices (McElvain, 2009). The question of whether police use of force is justified or not is therefore based on “the social context in which force is used” (Schneider, 2016, p. 100) and the meanings made of its use after application. Despite this, one thing is certain, and universally accepted: although the use of force may operate on a continuum, its most extreme use is defined by that which results in a

4 Making Sense of Fatal Mental Health Crisis Interventions

149

fatal outcome. This is why the decision to shoot by a police officer is regarded as the tactical option of ‘last resort’. National guidelines have sought to establish parameters for the police use of force, advising police not to use their firearms against another person except in self-defence or the defence of others against the imminent threat of death or serious injury (Hamdorf, Boni, Webber, Pikl, & Packer, 1998). But while the law may provide the legal structure and power for police officers to intervene in the lives of vulnerable individuals, “it cannot dictate the police officer’s response to that situation” (Teplin & Pruett, 1992, p. 140). It can be especially “challenging to impact individual officer decision-making during potentially violent encounters” (Engel, McManus, & Isaza, 2020, p. 149). The choice of alternative options can compound the complexity of the decision-making process (Dror, 2007). What drives officer discretion to use “the highest level of force that can be employed by the police” (McElvain, 2009, p. 7) in the handling of a mental health crisis situation is therefore difficult to pin down. The complicated nature of these types of mental health callouts is well documented, as is the brevity of time between first contact and the discharge of police firearms in the more controversial, and deadly, of these encounters. The decision to shoot may be less than a minute meaning fewer identifiable decision points for police and little time to exercise discretion (Scharf & Binder, 1983). “In a single encounter”, write Scharf and Binder (1983), “an officer may feel terror, fear, sympathy, shame, and horror. Clearly, the ability to monitor appropriately such emotions may bear heavily upon the final outcome of the episode” (p. 145). By virtue of their circumstances then, police-involved mental health crisis interventions do not lend themselves to being defined in the absolute terms in which they are frequently presented within news media. These are invariably complex encounters, which serve no one well when they result in someone’s death.

150

K. Clifford

Pinpointing the Predictors of Use of Force During Police Operations The literature on the predictive determinants of police use of force has inevitably sought to resolve many of these imprecisions as a way of informing strategies for the prevention of fatal outcomes to police-citizen encounters, as a complement to technological solutionism. The theoretical perspectives on police behaviour are well-formed, broad and deep, and focus on understanding the psychological, situational and organisational factors that can serve as predictors to the police use of force. The first of these approaches attempts to explain the use of force in terms of the characteristics of individual police officers; the second in terms of the specific conditions or circumstances in which police encounter members of the public. This includes the characteristics of the encounter itself as well as the ‘person of interest’. The final approach views a police officer’s use of force as a by-product of the organisational context in which they work and the ethos of the police command to which they are assigned. The extent to which police culture functions as a contributing factor to police use of force and adversarial approaches to mentally ill individuals is difficult to quantify. It is, however, thought to outweigh the influence of external discretion control policies (e.g. legislative frameworks) and community-level factors (e.g. population, number of sworn police personnel). Police managers and supervisors are responsible for shaping police attitudes, including an officer’s ‘sense of permission’ and perception of what is possible and appropriate (McDaniel, 2019, p. 84). More recent studies challenge this (see, e.g., Johnson, 2011; Mulvey & White, 2014), arguing that legal considerations remain one of the strongest predictors of police use of force, especially in mental health crisis situations. These conflicting views may have something to do with the fact that police culture—not unlike police use of force—has traditionally been a widely contested and fluid concept. Most commonly, it has been spoken about in unfavourable terms, as “a convenient label for a range of negative values, attitudes, and practice norms among police officers” which assumes an “implicit passivity of police officers in the acculturation process” (Chan, 1996, pp. 110, 111). The central empirical claim, writes Waddington (2012, p. 93), “is that ‘police culture’ sets police

4 Making Sense of Fatal Mental Health Crisis Interventions

151

officers apart from the generality of population and has a determining influence upon their behaviour, often with malign consequences”. This characterisation has been bolstered by evidence of cultures of corruption within the police, such as those exposed by the Fitzgerald Inquiry in Queensland in the late 1980s and the Royal Commission into the NSW Police Service in the mid-1990s. Both led to calls for extensive reforms to policing in Australia (see Commission of Inquiry Pursuant to Orders in Council, 1989; Wood, 1997). As Charman (2017) observes, this is a not uncommon phenomenon: “There have been frequent calls from both within and outside of the policing organisation for cultural change which regularly bring the issue of policing cultures and the apparent problems surrounding policing cultures to the forefront of the policing agenda” (p. 2)—as we have witnessed most vividly in recent times in the United States with the racial disparities noted in police use of force incidents, particularly the high-profile killings of Michael Brown, Kajieme Powell, Tamir Rice, Eric Garner, Walter Scott and George Floyd. Concerns about police violence have in that country, and increasingly in Australia too, eroded public trust in law enforcement, making the state of contemporary policing “one of the most polarizing issues affecting American society today” (Todak & James, 2018, p. 2) and a catalyst for the waves of activism witnessed around the globe, particularly in support of racial justice. Prior research shows that when it comes to direct interactions, police are broadly speaking influenced by neighbourhood characteristics, being more likely to use coercive force against individuals from minority groups and in areas where economic inequality exists (see, e.g., Krishan et al., 2014; Sorenson, Marquart, & Brock, 1993). Studies in the United States have explicitly identified a strong connection between use of force and crime rates and police exposure to violence in the community (see, e.g., Alpert, 1989; Fyfe, 1982; Jacobs & Britt, 1979; Kania & Mackey, 1977; Liska & Yu, 1992; McElvain & Kposowa, 2008; Sherman & Langworthy, 1982). Holmes and Smith (2012) theorised that police officers working in neighbourhoods with concentrated minority populations and/or high crime rates can adopt particular emotional reactions to those people and the area in which they live, as police come to associate them with violence. Police training contributes to this, because

152

K. Clifford

it inculcates police to believe that even seemingly innocuous encounters can turn deadly in a split second, if police are not ready to use lethal force at any given moment. In other words, police are encouraged to imagine every situation as potentially their last (Vitale, 2018). Even specialised mental health training programs can perpetuate such impressions, based on the case studies and images shown to police, especially where they relate to critical incidents in which the officers involved were seriously injured by the person in mental distress before they were shot (e.g. the Ali Hamie incident shown in the past as part of the NSW Police Force MHIT training program). Frontline officers are therefore often predisposed towards treating those they encounter with fear and hostility, attempting to “control them rather than communicate with them—and are much quicker to use force at the slightest provocation or even uncertainty” (Vitale, 2018, p. 10). As Todak and James (2018) explain: “The anger and fear responses officers develop through repeated exposure, coupled with their strong emotional attachments to fellow officers, can result in a higher likelihood of employing aggressive responses” (p. 7). Events in Australia such as the bombing of the Russell Street police complex in Melbourne in 1986 (in which Constable Angela Taylor became the first Australian policewoman to be killed in the line of duty) and the ambush of two patrol officers in Walsh Street, Melbourne, in 1988 (where both officers were executed) have often been cited as reasons for a “heightened sense of vulnerability” among Victorian police officers during the 1980s and 1990s when police-involved shootings of citizens in the state were at their highest (Victoria Police, 1995, p. 1). During this time, Victoria Police shot and killed more of its citizens than all other Australian state and territory police services combined (McCulloch, 2001). In 1994 alone, Victoria Police shot and killed nine people. At least four of the individuals had a known psychiatric history (Dalton, 1998). These incidences of police use of lethal force were considered the “single most controversial policing issue” in Australia throughout the 1990s (McCulloch, 2001, p. 92; see also Dalton, 1998), coupled with the high-profile killing of Roni Levi in NSW towards the end of that decade. In response, the Victoria Police Force introduced Project Beacon, a fiveday training program that emphasised putting ‘safety first’ in volatile situations and minimising the use of force. The aim was to retrain all

4 Making Sense of Fatal Mental Health Crisis Interventions

153

Victorian police officers in alternative conflict resolution methods to the use of police firearms, with the protection of human life the number one priority. The number of police shooting deaths of civilians diminished dramatically over the 15 years following Project Beacon’s introduction. As a result, the program was heralded a success until the early 2000s when the pendulum slowly swung back again and the state experienced another spike in fatal police-involved shootings. A subsequent report from the Office of Police Integrity (OPI) concluded that the returned surge in fatal police-involved shootings in the state had been the result of a diminution in the focus on safety and the minimisation of use of force within OST training (see Brouwer, 2005). The OPI’s report was one of no less than eight reviews of police use of force to criticise Victoria Police’s loss of focus on Project Beacon’s principles of safety and on “making sure police have the crucial skills to identify and take appropriate action when someone may have a mental health problem” (Office of Police Integrity, Victoria, 2009, p. 14). Public anxiety about the adverse track record held by Victoria Police in relation to fatal shootings of citizens was further stimulated by news media coverage about “a secret report”, which singled out recurrent systemic deficiencies such as poor planning, leadership and communication as contributors to several fatal police-involved shootings in the state between 2005 and 2008, including the killing of Tyler Cassidy (see McKenzie & Baker, 2011). The confidential Victoria Police review identified what was described as a “clear reluctance” among senior police in supervisory roles to ‘command and control’ the police response to high-risk incidents (McKenzie & Baker, 2011). In more than two-thirds of the shootings reviewed, “police had no prior knowledge that an offender was influenced by drugs, alcohol or a mental illness”, often as a result of the failure of police officers to “conduct basic checks on police databases about the background of offenders” or because they were provided “confusing or inadequate information by emergency radio dispatchers” (McKenzie & Baker, 2011). The report suggested that “better planning and co-ordination, or the use of a Taser, may have prevented officers using their guns” (McKenzie & Baker, 2011).

154

K. Clifford

Uncertainty persists as to why Victorian police fatally shot so many mentally ill individuals throughout the 1990s, when the deinstitutionalisation of mental health consumers in other Australian states had not led to “the same dramatic increase in police shootings” (Victoria Police, 1995, p. 1). Some researchers have used this uncertainty to downplay the possibility that a relationship exists between police experiences of vulnerability while on duty and recorded rates of police use of force. Others have attributed more recent upswings in fatal police-involved shootings across Australia to factors such as the government of the day’s ‘tough on crime’ mentality and the focus on lethal force options, arising from increases in national security threats in the community (Goldsworthy, 2014; Goldsworthy cited in Nedim, 2014). The misrepresentation of the effectiveness of Tasers and other ‘less-lethal’ tactical options, compared to the sense of security that firearms offer frontline police officers, has also been advanced as a possible reason for a heightened sense of vulnerability among police and the increased incidence of police use of lethal force during street encounters. “By advancing with a Taser”, says Goldsworthy (cited in Robertson, 2014), “you are going well and truly into a range where you will not get your gun out in time to defend yourself if you miss them with a Taser”. The public and political response to prior use of lethal force incidents has also been identified as making police risk-averse and reluctant to take action, because “the hierarchy and community…has created a police force that is afraid of negative consequences and punishment if they make the wrong call—so situations are allowed to escalate to a point where their hand is forced, so to speak” (Koubaridis, 2017). Prior research shows that news media can also play a role in this with negative press about policing presenting a challenge to self-legitimacy and police officers’ confidence in their own authority, with potential implications for the community and public safety (Nix & Wolfe, 2017). But the fearful disposition adopted by frontline police officers, and the ways in which this can manifest as aggressive or hostile responses, is often mirrored in the perceptions many mentally ill people have of police. I recall, for example, attending a Schizophrenia Fellowship of NSW symposium (now One Door Mental Health) some years ago when during the Q&A with Major Sam Cochran, who was visiting Australia

4 Making Sense of Fatal Mental Health Crisis Interventions

155

from the Memphis Police, a mother stood up and told the audience that, in discussing a preferred treatment plan for times when he was mentally unwell, her son had made one request: that she not call the police, because he “didn’t want to get shot”. Similar sentiments were expressed by several of the mental health consumers I spoke to for my own research later on. One man recalled the television coverage he had seen of the fatal shooting of Roni Levi on Bondi Beach, saying: “And I looked at that [news report]… and I used to think, “when’s my turn?” Are they [the police] going to kill me too?”. These types of attitudes frequently make their way into media headlines, such as this one from a 2018 Vox article: ‘A worried mom wanted the police to take her mentally ill son to the hospital. They shot him’ (Roth, 2018). Then, there are stories such as Marketta Thomas-Smith’s, covered in the NBC Left Field documentary A Different Kind of Force— Policing Mental Illness. Thomas-Smith’s brother, Danny Ray Thomas, was shot and killed by police in Texas on 22 March 2018 on a north Houston street while in the middle of a mental health emergency. The police officer who shot Thomas was reportedly equipped with a Taser, baton and capsicum spray and had been trained in how to de-escalate a mental health crisis situation. His BWC was left charging in his police vehicle, although a bystander managed to record most of the incident on their smartphone (see Dart, 2018; King, 2018). Referring to her brother’s death in an interview for the NBC Left Field documentary, ThomasSmith reflected: “If I had a family member that was going through a mental breakdown, I would not call the police, I would not. Knowing what I know now, why would you?” (cited in Ade, Ou, & Cahana, 2019). Watson, Angell, Morabito, and Robinson (2008) note that such responses are not uncommon, with most people with mental illness expecting to be poorly treated during their interactions with police.

Between Perception and Experience: Defining ‘Risk’ in Police Mental Health Contacts Fatal mental health crisis interventions are not only significantly traumatic events for the individuals involved, but also inherently complex

156

K. Clifford

situations to publicly reconcile in the context of contemporary policing and its interactions with vulnerable populations. As Hogan (1988) points out in his discussion of deaths involving state agencies: There are many interests in such cases, including those of the deceased, relatives and friends, officers and others directly involved or concerned, the state agency itself, and the state as a whole. The various interests may or may not be complementary or competing, the potential for conflict and compromise is great. (p. 115)

Where the death results from a police-involved mental health crisis intervention, the greater potential is for conflict, given that these events are subject to deeply political and sociocultural tensions, often forming the centrepiece of struggles between institutional and lay discourses to designate their causes and define their reasonableness. Because the precipitating circumstances and outcomes of fatal mental health crisis interventions are perceived so differently, critical incidents of this kind are highly controversial and contestable in nature. They are also laden with contradictions. On the one hand, these are highly volatile events that often share patterns of systemic failures in mental health care and risk communications and management. Yet, at the same time, they are commonly described as sudden and unexpected events that we are alerted to and horrified by, only to later forget until news headlines emerge about the next unfortunate death. As Hanusch (2010) reminds us, death itself is “a highly disruptive event in society” (p. 2)—perhaps even more so when it occurs in the tragic circumstances of a lethal encounter between police and a mentally ill member of the community. This is because fatal mental health crisis interventions “violate standard assumptions about the way things are and ought to be” (Lawrence, 2000, p. 7), especially in relation to the idea that police are the ‘protectors of society’—and society’s most vulnerable at that. As Klinger and Brunson (2009) explain, the use of lethal force “is a long-standing source of tension between the police and the public they are sworn to protect; a tension that regularly boils over, especially when police and public judgments about the appropriateness of specific shooting incidents do not align” (p. 136)—as they seldom do when mental illness is involved.

4 Making Sense of Fatal Mental Health Crisis Interventions

157

In the case of fatal mental health crisis interventions, these tensions most obviously manifest in the interpretive frameworks offered by stakeholders—police agencies and bereaved relatives of the deceased especially—and their differing conceptions of vulnerability (the identification of those ‘at risk’) and responsibility (those who present ‘a risk’ to self and/or others) in the context of the critical incident and its aftermath. The struggle that ensues between these stakeholders to define the ways in which a fatal mental health crisis intervention is viewed and interpreted reflects a form of ‘risk communication’ where each stakeholder attempts to persuade others of the validity of their assessment of the principal risk (Blood, Tulloch, & Enders, 2000; Blood, Pirkis, & Francis, 2004). As Beck’s theory of the ‘risk society’ reminds us, it is the ‘relations of definition’—the clashes of a ‘multiplicity of antagonistic definitions’ over competing rationality claims—that determine how we recognise risks and then attribute responsibility for them (Beck, 1992, 1999, 2005, 2009). The conflict between institutional and lay discourses can therefore be traced to fundamental differences in the ‘relations of definition’ adopted by key stakeholders. To illustrate, police agencies tend to evaluate the ‘reasonableness’ of police use of lethal force according to the technical assessments and management of risks specified within the formal protocols and SOPs of contemporary policing—that is, according to a ‘technical’ risk rationality. The critical perspectives of family and friends of the deceased on the other hand are motivated by more personal factors, including their emotional response to the death of a loved one— what might be described as a ‘subjective’ risk rationality. As a result, the risks inherent to a police-involved mental health crisis intervention, particularly as they relate to the mentally ill individual in crisis, may be underestimated or unacknowledged by those closest to them. Conversely, for many police officers, the hazards inherent in a crisis encounter with a mentally ill individual will often appear greater than is actually the case (Scharf & Binder, 1983). What or who is defined as ‘at risk’ or ‘a risk’ in police interactions with mentally ill individuals in crisis therefore needs to be understood as “a reflection of a complex interplay of competing knowledge claims, interests, politics, ideologies, technologies, emotions and moralities” (Stanford, 2012, p. 21). The same risk may produce very different perceptions in differing groups of people, depending on the

158

K. Clifford

context in which the risk is encountered, interpreted and understood (Philo, 1996). The following observations from Michael Barnes, during an interview for my doctoral research, illustrate this tension well. As then-State Coroner in Queensland, Barnes had presided over numerous coronial inquests into the deaths of mentally ill individuals in police custody or as part of police operations—even coming under fire in an episode of the Australian Broadcasting Corporation (ABC)’s Radio National programme, The Law Report, for his findings into the deaths of four mentally ill men (Thomas Dion Waite, Mieng Huynh, James Henry Jacobs and James Michael Gear), who had been shot and killed by police officers between October 2003 and February 2006 (see ‘Coronial inquests’, 2008). As Barnes explained at the time: A family member will say, “I’ve managed those situations; I’ve never been stabbed or killed even when he’s (sic) picked up a knife. I sit down, I don’t stare at him. I don’t contradict him. I explain that I’m frightened by his behaviour and, sooner or later, I’ve always found that he will put down the knife and come and sit next to me and we have a good cry and a cuddle”. That’s their completely valid experience. From that perspective, they can’t understand how it is that the police felt it necessary to shoot the person. On the other hand, I hear the evidence of the police officer who says, “I saw the man, I gave him a direction. He didn’t respond. He raised a knife above his head. I thought he was going to… stab me… and I had to shoot him”.

For Barnes, both of these positions are completely valid and neither has to be negated in the consideration of coronial evidence: You [as a coroner] don’t have to say that either is wrong. You just have to say that, in those circumstances, the law justifies the officer who hadn’t had that other experience, who couldn’t be expected to know that, if he (sic) sat down and took a submissive and placid role, the person, in all probability, would not have attacked him… You can’t expect the officer to know that or take that risk. Therefore, you can find at law that the shooting was justified… And families have to accept that too. They often don’t want to, but they have to accept that a policeman (sic) who

4 Making Sense of Fatal Mental Health Crisis Interventions

159

confronts and sees a person for the first time on the street, and the first interaction or response of the other person is to pull out a knife, that it’s unreasonable to expect the police officer to act the way the family does who’ve been with the person when they were well, when they were babies and is now a 30-year-old male and have been through all the changes that mental illness brings. They have to accept that they couldn’t expect a police officer to be equipped to respond the way they are.

This can be a hard pill to swallow for families whose loved one has died at the hands of police during a mental health crisis intervention, even for those who have gone some way towards accepting the circumstances leading up to the death: “Obviously, I know more about Elijah than that officer did, and I would know that Elijah is no threat to anyone under any circumstances. Obviously, the officer didn’t have that information, even though we made all that information available to police” (Jeremy Holcombe, father of Elijah Holcombe, cited in Wild, 2018, p. 42).

The Power of News Media to Shape Public Understandings of Social Problems Not everyone—and certainly not all police—will have had direct experience with mental health problems, be it through their own condition or as a carer to a mentally ill relative or friend. For many people, their primary (and perhaps sole) source of information about mental illness and the police use of force will come from contexts such as the coronial or criminal courts system or, more commonly, social media or the news. It is principally through the latter that the story of a fatal mental health crisis intervention publicly unfolds and assumes narrative form. Within this news reporting, the contested values of civil society are re-energised, emotions are galvanised and significant public debate is generated, particularly about the moral authority of frontline police officers in their interactions with vulnerable people. These are events that crystallise individual and collective positions. More than simply ‘bearing witness’ to these events, news media practitioners play a fundamental and influential role in shaping public understandings of fatal mental health

160

K. Clifford

crisis interventions. They act as ‘interpretive communities’ (Berkowitz & TerKeurst, 1999; Lindlof, 2002; Traquina, 2004; Zelizer, 1992, 1993, 2004, 2009) or ‘risk-knowledge-brokers’ (Campbell, 2004), who have the power and capacity to provide wide exposure and credibility to select voices, claims and symbols. More than this, mainstream news media can redefine the very nature of issues, expose new problems, popularise new types of discursive constructions, and provide a forum for the formation of new types of identity and identity performance (Kitzinger, 2004). As Roberts (2018) explains: “Most journalists are, whether they think of themselves this way or not, explainers. They are in the business of making sense of the torrent of information constantly deluging us all”. They make decisions which, in Sontag’s (2003) words, “firm up the wavering consensus about the boundaries of public knowledge” (p. 61). In other words, the news media are “our central repositories and disseminators of knowledge… they can organise opinion and develop world views by providing structures and understandings into which isolated and unarticulated attitudes and beliefs may be fitted” (Chibnall, 1977, p. 226). They therefore serve as both mediators and arbiters of the public and political discourse that frames fatal mental health crisis interventions, particularly the tension between “what is legally reasonable and what citizens believe is normatively reasonable” when it comes to police use of force (Mourtgos & Adams, 2019, p. 873; see also Morris, 2006). The power of news media to contribute to the process of where and how social problems are defined is therefore significant. The way in which a story is told, to quote Tiegreen and Newman (2008), may “greatly affect the way media consumers perceive events in the world”. Every journalistic choice—from the types of sources used to the perspective taken—helps determine the “prominent themes or meanings within or perceived from a news story as a whole” (Dorfman, Thorson, & Stevens, 2001 cited in Tiegreen & Newman, 2008). Given the conflicting accounts that surround the deaths of mentally ill individuals in police custody or as part of police operations, it is important “to understand which messages prevail to form populist explanations of these deaths” (Pemberton, 2008, p. 255). News media, in this respect, occupy

4 Making Sense of Fatal Mental Health Crisis Interventions

161

a commanding position in terms of their capacity to create and sustain certain understandings of socially relevant issues and events, including contemporary policing and its interface with mentally ill individuals in the community (Kesic, Ducat, & Thomas, 2011). Media framing theory, also known as ‘news framing’, informs evaluations of how this news context is presented and made understandable to the public (see Entman, 1993; Gamson, 1989; Gamson & Modigliani, 1989; Goffman, 1974; Price, Tewksbury, & Powers, 1997). The central proposition rests on a metaphor: just as a photographer may ‘frame’ a photo, so too it can be assumed that media professionals routinely ‘frame’ their news stories (Tewksbury & Scheufele, 2009). News framing occurs by “selecting and highlighting some facets of events or issues, and making connections among them so as to promote a particular interpretation, evaluation, and/or solution” (Entman, 2004, p. 5). In doing so, frames are directly implicated in facilitating a sense of resolution or reconciliation to issues in that they tend to define problems, specify causes, convey moral assessments and endorse remedies (Entman, 1993, 2004, 2010). For its part, news framing analysis elaborates on “how media professionals ‘package’ information for audience reception and how that information is represented or portrayed” (Blood & Holland, 2004, p. 324; see also Gamson & Modigliani, 1989). Often, it is a media professional’s sense of ‘news values’, among other influential factors such as the constraints imposed by newsroom work and cultural assumptions about audiences, that leads them to present issues within certain news frames (Gamson, 1982; see also Blood & Holland, 2004). These often reflect “persistent patterns of cognition, interpretation, and presentation, of selection, emphasis and exclusion” (Gitlin, 1980, p. 7). As Tankard (2003) suggests, the use of a news frame in and of itself is therefore not always as remarkable or revealing as the choice of news frame used. “For instance”, he writes, continuing the metaphor of the photo frame, “an elaborately carved, wooden frame provides a different feeling from a mass-produced, metal one” (Tankard, 2003, p. 98)—just as the framing of a fatal mental health crisis intervention as a political issue will produce a very different set of interpretations and connotations compared to the critical incident being framed as a public health issue or a crime or law and order news story. What matters in the construction of news frames

162

K. Clifford

is therefore not only the repetition of certain words, images and actions (which essentially form, through their routine association, a symbolic linkage), but also “whether and to what extent a view of the social world is actually adopted and applied to everyday life situations” (Altheide, 2002, p. 35). According to Sasson (1995), analyses of news framing therefore need to start from an assumption of the following: • That people should be regarded as active assemblers of meaning; • The creation of meaning through the work of framing occurs in various forums, including media and everyday conversation; and • Conflicts on particular issues can be fought out in the form of contesting frames (and the construction of counter-narratives to what are otherwise dominant frames). This includes media audiences who will not always be complicit in their reading of dominant news frames and may actively seek to contest them. Nonetheless, the idea that editors and journalists “frame news in particular or characteristic ways” inevitably leads to questions about “the consequences of those framing decisions” (Blood & Holland, 2004, p. 326). Mediated representations of mental illness have conventionally constructed mentally ill individuals as ‘deviant’ and ‘dangerous others’, perpetuating the stereotypical and erroneous assumption of an inherent link between mental illness and violence and criminality, despite evidence to the contrary. But is this necessarily the case when police use of force is involved? How do news media typically frame mental illness in the context of their reporting of fatal mental health crisis interventions? Who or what is constructed as ‘a risk’ and ‘at risk’ in these scenarios? Do news media tend to favour police versions in the primary definition of these events or do they provide a platform for the critique of police actions and discretionary decision-making, in the process enabling opportunities for the reframing of mental illness? Is there capacity for news media to act as agents of social change in this space? Should they even be expected to?

4 Making Sense of Fatal Mental Health Crisis Interventions

163

Normative Patterns of News Framing of Fatal Mental Health Crisis Interventions The rush to assign blame in the immediate aftermath of a fatal mental health crisis intervention is not entirely unexpected, nor are the discursive tensions that result. While police are required to work in the public’s interest, “they are also accountable to many publics and political agents with conflicting interests and goals” (Chermak & Weiss, 2005, p. 502). For their part, news narratives often reflect this ebb and flow rather than present a contextualised and “steady or independent discussion of the issues over which… [these] power struggles are waged” (Bennett, 2009, p. 106). They tend to “oversimplify, rather than analyze with any depth or meaning” (Skolnick & Fyfe, 1993, p. xvii) the context to such incidents, including the broader social issues and systemic inadequacies that often underpin them and give rise to their occurrence in the first place. News media coverage of fatal mental health crisis interventions has traditionally reflected the tensions between the competing narrative frameworks of key stakeholders in terms of two distinct sets of causal claims. Lawrence (2000) refers to these as the ‘individualising’ claims of institutional discourse and the ‘systemic’ claims of critical nonofficials, often communicated through lay discourse. As she explains in her own study of media constructions of police brutality, officials such as police administrators will generally try to control the news by ‘individualising’ these incidents, “claiming that those subjected to police use of force brought that force on themselves with their deviant, violent behavior” (Lawrence, 2000, p. 14). Occasionally, when an incident looks particularly bad for the police involved, officials may describe the use of excessive force “as a problem of a few rogue cops” (Lawrence, 2000, p. 15). These individualising claims, Lawrence explains, contrast with ‘systemic’ claims about the police use of force, which are typically made by non-officials. The individualising news frames of police officials therefore seek to normalise the necessity for police use of lethal force, portraying it as “consistent with departmental policies and with public expectations of how officers should behave in dangerous situations” (Lawrence, 2000, p. 37). This is often supported by references to the fatal police-involved

164

K. Clifford

shooting as a last resort and an amplification of the dangers police face daily. In doing so, this ‘state talk’—which pits ‘brave and besieged’ frontline police officers alongside ‘violent’ and ‘dangerous’ victims—serves to obfuscate the reality of the mentally ill individual’s vulnerability as well as the potential shortcomings of the police operational response or, worse still, the possibility that the death was preventable having resulted from an act of deliberate police violence or some other form of professional misconduct (Pemberton, 2008). These individualising news frames can also distract attention away from other important social issues, such as the broader deficiencies in the mental health system, and the care and treatment of mentally ill individuals (especially those with comorbid conditions or multimorbidity) in the community. This includes the increasing prevalence towards the diversion of vulnerable individuals into the criminal justice system. The portrayal of the person killed as inherently unpredictable, uncontrollable and dangerous—a risky identity—therefore neutralises the “uncomfortable moral, political and legal implications” of their death (Pemberton, 2008). A study by Hirschfield and Simon (2010) of 105 news articles from 23 major daily newspapers in the United States between 1997 and 2000 found that such constructions were common among stories about policeperpetrated homicides. In terms of the moral and legal culpability for such events, the majority of news narratives cast the victims of lethal police-involved shootings as “physical and social threats” while situating the actions of police “within legitimate institutional roles” (Hirschfield & Simon, 2010, p. 155). These individualising news frames imparted political legitimacy to the police use of lethal force, portraying it as a sensible and officially sanctioned response to a violent world (Lawrence, 2000). This is a pattern of news reporting that has also persisted in Australian news media coverage of fatal mental health crisis interventions. The Roni Levi incident, in particular, has come to serve as something of a ‘rhetorical shorthand’ (Kitzinger, 2000) for the reporting of similar critical incidents since; promoting particular news frames and ways of understanding these events. Since Levi’s death, there have been numerous occasions where the primary definition of a fatal police-involved mental health crisis intervention has, in early news reports, characterised the mentally ill individual involved as being ‘out of control’ and having

4 Making Sense of Fatal Mental Health Crisis Interventions

165

allegedly ‘lunged at police’ with a weapon (commonly a knife) before being shot. The Paul Klein incident, analysed in the next chapter, is a case in point. The news media’s reporting of the Courtney Topic incident is another more recent example of this. But news frames are not static; they can change over time throughout the arc of a news narrative and in different situational contexts and cultural moments—even sometimes within different news stories about the same fatal mental health crisis intervention, as the case progresses through the coronial system, for instance, and new information comes to the fore or as new voices are introduced within media coverage about the event (Clifford & White, 2017). Just as news frames of the Roni Levi incident initially legitimised the police use of lethal force, so too the circumstances of his death have been used over the years to support public and political criticism of contemporary policing practices, as well as the need for systemic reforms to counter the use of force. As readers might recall from previous chapters, in at least one instance, Levi’s death was cited as evidence of the need for a widespread rollout of Tasers to frontline police (see Patty, 2008). In another, more recently published news story, it was said to show the chronic under-resourcing of mental health services in Australia and the deficiencies of police mental health training (Wild, Miskelly, & Wakatama, 2018). Similar reasoning devices were also adopted in relation to public debates about the introduction of random drug testing of police officers in NSW following the fatal shooting (see Police Integrity Commission, 2001). Critical incidents such as the police shooting of Roni Levi—with its graphic and memorable imagery—have therefore become a potent symbol or ‘media template’ for future reporting of similar events, because of this “ongoing shelf life which extends beyond the conclusion of news happenings” and because they are frequently used “to explain current events as a point of comparison and, often, as proof of an ongoing problem” (Kitzinger, 2000, p. 76; original emphasis). They therefore serve as a “crucial site of media power, acting to provide context for new events” and as “foci for demands for policy change and helping to shape the ways in which we make sense of the world” (Kitzinger, 2000, p. 81).

166

K. Clifford

‘Shooting to Stop a Threat’ Versus ‘Shooting to Kill’ In the context of news media coverage of fatal mental health crisis interventions, however, public assumptions about ‘violent tendencies’ are not always restricted to claims about mentally ill individuals alone. They can, and often do, extend to value judgements about the necessity for police use of lethal force against such individuals, particularly where ‘systemic’ claims are evident. One of the more salient themes to emerge from media coverage of these critical incidents is the problem of an adverse culture of policing—specifically, the presumption that there exists a systemic tendency for frontline police officers to routinely resort to unjustifiable displays of coercive force (over less excessive approaches) in their everyday policing duties. This is the outworn notion that all police officers are “trigger happy cops” (Kaba cited in Stephey, 2007; see also Wall & Owen, 2017). The claim that police are unreasonably predisposed to discharging their firearms is often made without any requisite contextualisation of the specific circumstances leading to the use of force or the complexities of interactions between police and mentally ill individuals in crisis (Clifford, 2010). This event-driven style of news reporting also tends to neglect the broader context to mental health-related law enforcement encounters including the fact that, despite their frequency, the vast majority of these interactions are resolved safely and without incident. Despite public assumptions about the prevalence of police violence, a study of 3455 police-citizen encounters in the United States showed that 75 per cent of the time where an escalation of the use of force option would have been warranted, a police officer chose not to do so (Terrill, 2005). Such results suggest that “before one can begin to judge the appropriateness of police force, one should measure and consider the extent to which force is applied proportionately and incrementally” (Terrill, 2005, p. 107). Little wonder then that, despite the trend towards the media’s use of police sources as ‘primary definers’ of the crime news agenda (Hall, Critcher, Jefferson, Clarke, & Roberts, 1978/2013), not all police officers believe the media always fairly represents them. While police agencies may have become “more co-ordinated and better prepared” in their police-media relations, tensions remain within police

4 Making Sense of Fatal Mental Health Crisis Interventions

167

circles about “the media and openness” (Mawby, 1999, p. 267). As Lawrence (2000) explains: … police often view the media with suspicion and express frustration and bitterness over what they see as the media’s willingness to sensationalize the use of force without making the public aware of the difficulties and dangers faced by police officers. (p. 49)

These concerns, although unpopular, are not unfounded. Among the fatal mental health crisis interventions analysed as part of this study, news reports that questioned the reasonableness and legitimacy of the police use of lethal force have commonly framed it as a by-product of a calculated ‘shoot to kill’ policy or ‘shoot first’ culture within Australian policing. The impression for audiences of these media texts is that violence is an inherent and deeply embedded aspect of police culture. Judgements about the excessiveness of police use of force also strongly correlate to public perceptions of threat and vulnerability. The discharge of police firearms will often be perceived as a less excessive use of force when the subject is considered a ‘dangerous offender’—for example, an alleged murderer—than in an identical situation involving greater ambiguity or someone considered to be a lesser threat or more vulnerable than the police (see Miethe, Venger, & Lieberman, 2019). The discretionary decision by police to discharge their firearms during a mental health crisis intervention is, in these instances, often framed in contrast to and as incommensurate with the level of risk posed by the mentally ill individual in crisis who, in most cases, has been armed with ‘only an edged weapon’. In other words, moral judgements are also made about the seemingly unequal levels of threat and lethality posed by the use of a gun versus a knife. On one level, this rightfully assumes, as Walters (2005) observes, that policing is “primarily about dealing with people. Firearms avoid that. They impose the will of the person with the firearm, and leave no room for negotiation”. But as others, such as NSW police weapons and defensive tactics instructor Sergeant Justin Waters (cited in Mitchell, 2019) cautioned in evidence to the coronial inquest into the death of Danukul Mokmool, “[t]he threat from a bladed weapon cannot be understated”.

168

K. Clifford

Despite this, a number of scholars maintain that, regardless of the circumstances, “ordinary police are being trained to ‘shoot until the threat is eliminated’ whenever they fire their guns, even when their adversary is not armed with a firearm” (McCulloch, 2001, p. 161). These assertions are based on a series of critical observations relating to the Firearms Officer Survival Training Unit (FOSTU) in Victoria which, in the early 1990s, adopted as part of its curriculum the principle that “a person armed with a knife can deliver a fatal thrust in an average of one and a half seconds from approximately six metres” (McCulloch, 2001, p. 169). This, according to McCulloch (2001), encouraged police to treat all edged weapons equally with the primary principle being that, “in defence from attack, it is necessary to shoot until the threat is neutralised” (p. 168). To validate this perspective, McCulloch (2001) explains, the FOSTU used a United States training video titled, Surviving Edged Weapons, whose approach to gun culture and inflated safety risks reflected the broader trend towards increasingly militarised forms of policing in Victoria at the time; what McCulloch describes as the “antithesis” of community or vulnerable people policing (p. 3). Indeed, much has been made of the ways in which the militarisation of contemporary policing has fuelled a ‘warrior mentality’ among frontline police officers who “think of themselves as soldiers in a battle with the public rather than guardians of public safety” (Vitale, 2018, p. 3; see also Goldsworthy, 2017; Rahr & Rice, 2015; Sarre, 2018). This, critics claim, is likely to endorse exaggerated perceptions of risk and danger as a result of the policing principle of ‘survival at any cost’—an indifference which McCulloch (2001) asserts is exemplified by the ‘them or us’ mentality stimulated by the ‘survival mindset’ central to the OST training of operational police officers (p. 164). The confusion and concern often expressed by members of the public as to how to reconcile the police use of lethal force against a person in possession of what is seen to be a less-lethal weapon are well recognised by police themselves: I understand what you’re saying and… [m]y response to them would be, “well, you stand where I stood, put my boots on, and you show me how brave you are. You go in and wrestle him (sic) for the knife”… I can understand, you know, people [saying]… “Why didn’t the police tackle

4 Making Sense of Fatal Mental Health Crisis Interventions

169

him from behind?” I mean, you just can’t afford to put yourself in danger and, if you put yourself in danger with something like that, you’re putting your workmates in danger, because all of a sudden, you’re on the ground, and he’s on the ground, and you haven’t effectively disarmed him, and they can no longer shoot him, because he’s in a wrestle with you and he’s got knives… But I can understand how, yes, somebody’s got a knife, but the police shot him, well, it doesn’t make sense.

Often, after a fatal mental health crisis intervention, family and friends of the deceased and mental health advocates will hold fast to the notion that police officers could have availed themselves of other less-lethal tactical options in place of the decision to shoot. This regularly includes the argument that, where the use of firearms was necessary, police officers should have aimed for the individual’s leg or arm, rather than the torso. These sentiments often coincide with a predominance of the voices of bereaved family members in news media reports of fatal mental health crisis interventions. The following comments from Melinda Dundas, the widow of Roni Levi, included in an episode of the ABC’s investigative journalism television series, Four Corners, are representative of this: The whole notion of a policy which says… when you use a firearm you’ve got to shoot to kill is really inhumane and I mean there’s no chance for a person. Roni was shot four times for God’s sake… had he been shot once in the leg or the arm it would’ve been sufficient to hospitalise him, let alone four times. There wasn’t an organ in his body that was left functioning after that kind of response. (Dundas cited in ‘Lethal Force’, 2009)

Similar views were noted among the mental health consumers who spoke to me for my own research. “They could have shot him [Roni Levi] in the arm or the leg… [but] they’re not trained to shoot in the arm or the leg and spare the person; they shoot to kill”, one person told me. Another said he felt “cheated” by Levi’s death: “I was thinking, ‘look at this, there’s another victim’. He’s sick, you know, and they’ve just pulled their gun and, bang, see ya, you’re gone”. Just as police can experience particular reflex responses towards certain people and the neighbourhoods to which they are repeatedly exposed (especially those that an officer associates

170

K. Clifford

with aggression, unpredictability and violence), so too emotions can play a key role in shaping a citizen’s behaviours and attitudes towards police. This is especially the case where an individual may have previously come in contact with police for very negative reasons or may perceive police as biased, procedurally unjust or unresponsive to their needs (Todak & James, 2018). The ripple effects of this on future crisis encounters and the stigma it can infuse into public perceptions of policing should not be underestimated. Bearing in mind that the specialist weapons training provided to frontline police officers instructs them to aim for centre body mass in the discharge of firearms, the likelihood of lethal force as the outcome of a decision to shoot is not implausible. It is, in fact, highly probable. But it is not always the case that death is the motive and/or intent when a police officer commits to the decision to discharge their firearm. The intentionality of a fatal police-involved shooting is inevitably debated after the act, at which point it is regularly demonstrated that police officers do not often regard shooting and killing as tightly coupled. Instead, for police officers, critical incidents such as these are “more attuned to the fearful particulars of one’s own safety than to a logic of deadly offense” (Van Maanen, 1980, p. 149). This is exemplified by the following comments from one of the police officers who was involved in the Paul Klein incident, which is discussed in more detail in the following chapter. As he explained it to me, a police officer’s intention in discharging their firearm is more often related in operational terms to stopping a threat (usually an individual with a weapon), rather than killing them: If he (sic) gets to a particular spot and I don’t shoot him and stop him— and it’s not about shooting him to kill him; it’s about stopping him— either my offsider next to me is going to potentially get killed or I am… people see firearms and death; that’s all they see… We are trained to shoot centre body mass, which is likely going to result in somebody’s death, but we don’t shoot to kill people. We shoot to stop.

The durability of this police logic is evidenced in the documentary, A Different Kind of Force—Policing Mental Illness, where a police officer with San Antonio Police Department’s Mental Health Unit, echoes a

4 Making Sense of Fatal Mental Health Crisis Interventions

171

similar rhetoric after the point is made that he has on his hip the power to end someone’s life. He responds: “I don’t see this [his police firearm] as something to end somebody’s life. I see this as a tool to stop a threat” (Serrano cited in Ade, Ou, & Cahana, 2019).

Calls for Transparency in the Investigation of Critical Incidents The process of justifying such extreme policing responses as the use of lethal force in a mental health crisis situation is not without its consequences for police agencies. Such justifications are often perceived by publics to be insensitive and indicative of police officials and administrators having already committed to a position in favour of the reasonableness of the use of force, even before an investigation into the fatal shooting has commenced. This can serve to reaffirm the belief that police ‘close ranks’ in the immediate aftermath of a fatal policeinvolved shooting, thereby raising doubts about the integrity of police involvement in investigations of these critical incidents (Walters, 2005). The authority of police to use force “and exercise the powers granted by the State does not mean a death associated with police contact is necessarily a consequence of inappropriate or unlawful conduct by the police involved”, but nor does it exclude the possibility (Office of Police Integrity, Victoria, 2010, p. 6). In each case, the incident must be investigated. But as the Project Harlequin audit of the NSW Police Force points out: “When police investigate their fellow officers following the death of or serious injury to a person as a result of interaction with police, there is often a perception that the investigating officers do not exercise the necessary impartiality in the investigation” (Police Integrity Commission, 2017, p. 3). The incongruity of ‘police-investigating-police’ has often featured as part of the news discourse attributable to bereaved family and friends of the deceased—in the process, challenging the official police response to a fatal mental health crisis intervention. These ‘systemic’ news frames will often cast police violence as “an endemic and patterned problem arising from poor police management, inadequate police accountability,

172

K. Clifford

a hostile police subculture, or a racist culture more generally” (Lawrence, 2000, p. 15). In the United Kingdom, where the majority of deaths of mentally ill individuals in police custody have been restraint-related fatalities (reflecting highly interpersonal levels of police force), such challenges have increasingly been mounted under a human rights framework (Pemberton, 2008; see also Independent Advisory Panel on Deaths in Custody, 2015; INQUEST, 2014). This has been bolstered by the mobilisation of campaigns for justice, led by groups such as INQUEST and the United Families & Friends coalition, as well as outspoken human rights lawyers, like Leslie Thomas and Jules Carey, who have proactively engaged with news media on behalf of the bereaved families and friends of individuals who have died in police custody. Engagement with mainstream media has increasingly been seen to offer a more effective mouthpiece for victims of police use of force than the formal complaints process facilitated by internal police professional standards commands or watchdog agencies, such as ombudsman’s offices or law enforcement conduct and police integrity commissions (see McKenzie, 2018). Where police misconduct has been suspected or alleged in Australia, similar sentiments about the injustices of the ‘blue code of silence’ (Westmarland, 2005) have been evident in the findings of coronial inquests. One of the more prominent examples is the inquiry into the death of 36-year-old Adam Salter, who was fatally shot by a senior NSW police officer after threatening self-harm with a knife in the kitchen of his father’s house in the suburb of Lakemba in south-western Sydney in November 2009. In his findings, delivered almost two years later, NSW Deputy State Coroner Magistrate Scott Mitchell deemed the police intervention “an utter failure” (p. 38), saying it had been followed by “an inadequate and apparently prejudiced Critical Incident Investigation chiefly directed… to avoid embarrassment to Police” (Inquest into the death of Adam Quddus Salter, 2011, p. 39). Claims that the police officers involved in the critical incident perjured themselves during the evidence given to a subsequent PIC inquiry into whether there had been any misconduct and corruption in the police investigation were dismissed in a District Court trial in 2016, although the Adam Salter case—not unlike the death of Roberto Laudisio Curti three years later—led to

4 Making Sense of Fatal Mental Health Crisis Interventions

173

widespread calls for greater independence and transparency in the investigation of police-involved critical incidents. Similar views were expressed in the aftermath of the police-involved shooting death of a 29-year-old Yamatji woman in Geraldton, Western Australia, in September 2019 (see Wahlquist, 2019). Family of the woman had called police to help transport her to hospital after she had experienced difficulties at home following discharge from a mental institution several days earlier. The critical incident sparked protests outside the Geraldton police station by the local Aboriginal community, who demanded to know why less-lethal options, such as a Taser, had not been deployed (Harradine & Meachim, 2019; O’Connor & O’Flaherty, 2019). Tyler Cassidy’s mother, Shani Cassidy, likewise added her voice to concerns about the independence of critical incident investigations after her teenage son’s death in 2008. In a submission to the United Nations Human Rights Committee, she urged for reforms to the investigative processes related to citizen deaths after police contact to ensure that investigations are independently conducted and done so “in accordance with the procedural requirements of the right to life” (Cassidy, 2013, p. 7). According to Anna Brown (2012), counsel assisting Shani Cassidy, an independent model of inquiry “not only satisfies the public interest by ensuring that justice is served; it also helps police members to be absolved, where appropriate, by a system that is regarded as fair and legitimate, not tarnished and tainted”.

The Role of the Coronial Inquest Deaths that occur in police custody or during police operations in Australia, including the fatal police shooting of a mentally ill individual in crisis, result in a mandatory coronial inquest for which the Coroner must order a full investigation. The officer in charge of the critical incident investigation must prepare a brief of evidence for submission to the Coroner to support the process of identifying “whether there have been any shortcomings, whether by an individual or an organisation, with respect to any matter connected with a person’s death” (NSW Office of the State Coroner, 2019, p. 223). One of the main foci of

174

K. Clifford

this investigatory process is the question of proportionality; “whether the threat or potential threat posed by the alleged offender was sufficient to warrant police using a firearm” (Australian Institute of Criminology, 2013). Excessive force is that which goes beyond what is required for safety and control (Miller, 2015). As Deputy State Coroner Magistrate Harriet Grahame stated in her findings into the death of MC, who was killed by police shooting on the Central Coast of NSW in March 2015: “Any opportunities for improvement should be identified and explored, particularly if they have the capacity to save lives in the future. At the same time…[o]ne must always be careful when reviewing decisions made in the field from the relative comfort of the courtroom” (Inquest into the death of MC , 2017, par. 5, p. 1). The same caution, one might argue, applies to judgements made from the relative comfort of an armchair or a news desk. According to NSW Police Force critical incident guidelines, final critical incident investigation reports are not generated until the conclusion of the coronial process, which as Coroners themselves acknowledge, can be impacted by unavoidable delays caused by resourcing issues, tardy provision of information needed to conclude the investigation, and a backlog of cases (NSW Office of the State Coroner, 2019). These timeframes can be further exacerbated where the critical incident becomes the subject of a formal police inquiry or a criminal or civil court case. For example, it took seven years from his death in 2009 to resolve proceedings related to the police shooting of Adam Salter by the time the coronial inquest was concluded (2011), along with a PIC inquiry (2013) and the District Court trial (2016) which acquitted the police officers involved of charges of perjury. The coronial inquest into Elijah Holcombe’s death was similarly delayed, taking over four years to complete after the matter was referred to the DPP, who took over 14 months to decide not to proceed with charges against the police involved. Further delays were experienced due to “certain decisions being the subject of proceedings” in the Supreme Court and Court of Appeal (Finding after an inquest into the death of Elijah Holcombe, 2014, p. 1). Estimates have it that the average length of time between death and inquest for most cases in Australian jurisdictions can be upwards of two

4 Making Sense of Fatal Mental Health Crisis Interventions

175

years, which can be an extremely traumatic experience for the individuals involved in these critical incidents (Davidson, Allam, Wahlquist, & Evershed, 2018; Studdert, Walter, Kemp, & Sutherland, 2016). This is despite national benchmarks having indicated for several years now that no more than 10 per cent of all coronial investigations should be open after a year and none after two years (Steering Committee for the Review of Government Service Provision, 2019). Lengthy delays in case completion rates can stymie the sense of closure and therapeutic jurisprudence that a coronial inquest can offer relatives of the deceased and other interested parties after a sudden and unexpected death. Coronial investigations, writes Freckelton (2016), “constitute a complex meeting point between the often conflicting and raw perspectives on the part of different parties, the risk that grief will be compounded, the need to enable a coroner’s court to make sound findings of fact about circumstances and causes of death, and the aspiration to have a coroner’s court make informed recommendations directed toward minimising the potential for future avoidable adverse events” (p. 6). The problem is that recommendations from Coroners to prevent similar deaths in the future can go unheeded or not actioned, and police officers responsible for the fatal discharge of firearms can object to giving evidence or answering questions at inquest for fear of self-incrimination and possible disciplinary action or because of other reasonable considerations said to be relevant to the ‘interests of justice’. But how the ‘interests of justice’ are defined is not stipulated. Coroners are provided wide discretion in how they interpret the concept and evaluate its competing considerations within the specific context they are presented as well as the potential risks or prejudice that might result from compelling a witness to give evidence. Their interpretations are also not immune to appeal (see Rich v Attorney-General of NSW [2013] NSWCA 419). Even where there is reason to believe that a police shooting was unjustified, investigators tend to run into structural barriers when it comes to bringing potential prosecutions, given they remain reliant on police co-operation to gather the necessary evidence. This includes evidentiary statements, where police officers may be the sole witnesses to a critical

176

K. Clifford

incident. “As a result”, writes Vitale (2018), “prosecutors are often reluctant to pursue such cases aggressively” (p. 18). Historically, this appears to have applied even where a Coroner has referred the case to the DPP to consider the prospect of criminal prosecution. In Australia, the vast majority of fatal police-involved shootings of mentally ill individuals in crisis have been deemed ‘justifiable homicides’, which have occurred under circumstances authorised by law. In such cases, no charges are generally brought against the officers involved.

Conclusion Over the past two decades, there have been several spikes in the number of fatal mental health crisis interventions in Australia, particularly in the state of Victoria. As a result of this and similar patterns noted in other democratic countries, scholars around the world have sought to better understand the predictive factors that underscore such critical incidents with a view to developing measures to prevent them. Any number of avenues have been explored—from the role that police culture plays in shooting behaviours to the influence of environmental and situational factors and the potential predisposition of individual police officers towards the use of force. Despite these attempts at meaning-making, fatal mental health crisis interventions persist as events that are difficult to resolve and reconcile, in large part due to the conflict and contestation they manifest regarding interpretations of risk, proportionality and blame, as defined by the stakeholders who are involved in and impacted by them. The practice of police investigating their own after critical incidents of this nature has only served to inflame such tensions. Confronted with crisis situations, Allan (2013) points out, “major news organisations tend to mobilise certain preferred, ritualised strategies and procedures to process truth-claims that necessarily implicate them in a discursive politics of mediation” (pp. 118–119). In terms of fatal mental health crisis interventions, journalists commonly step into this breach to act as interpretive communities or knowledge-brokers for the public, in the process producing what are not always favourable mediated representations and narratives of people with mental illness, and

4 Making Sense of Fatal Mental Health Crisis Interventions

177

even less so when it comes to frontline police officers and the use of force on vulnerable individuals. The tension often lies—in public, political and news discourses—in the disjuncture between the expectations placed on police as the ‘protectors of society’ and the realities of frontline policing, which is bound by its own protocols and procedures that can legitimise the use of lethal force where the court of public opinion may otherwise deem it unreasonable. This tension also has the potential to perpetuate the stigmatisation of mental illness and marginalise individual police officers when they resort to the use of lethal force. News accounts of police use of force incidents, particularly those “whose moral valuation is ambiguous”, as is often the case with fatal mental health crisis interventions, therefore provide a “critical test of the resilience of dominant cultural images” of crime and police (Hirschfield & Simon, 2010, p. 156). They also reveal something about the role of ‘news values’ as intrinsic drivers of news journalism, and the ways in which normative media frames of policing and criminal justice can be resituated within political, public health, social justice and/or human rights frames (or vice versa). These issues serve to complicate the orthodox view that police maintain the balance of power in the police-media relationship. This is especially the case where the mediated images of frontline policing conflict with the realities of police work (Christensen, Schmidt, & Henderson, 1982). Many police officers involved in a fatal mental health crisis intervention will “never recover from such circumstances and themselves suffer severe psychological problems after such incidents—often for the rest of their lives” (Carroll, 2005, p. 22). However, with few exceptions, it is society’s expectation that frontline police officers should be impervious to such reactions, especially where the issue of life and death is concerned. Part of the reason for this conflict between public expectations and the realities of contemporary policing is the knowledge and experience gap of members of the public, who make judgements about the reasonableness of police use of force mostly based on emotions, often negative and disapproving (Shane & Swenson, 2019). Humans emotions are complex and often contradictory. When emotionality is high, reasoned analysis is unlikely to predominate and what can be reasonably expected of police officers in these situations becomes a lesser consideration (Mourtgos &

178

K. Clifford

Adams, 2019). This is not helped by the fact that the public is rarely given insight into the frontline experiences of police. The situated knowledge of police officers is generally excluded from news media reports of critical incidents such as fatal mental health crisis interventions—albeit not necessarily as a result of a journalist’s own decision-making about source inclusion. This is often predetermined by police protocols, which dictate that individual police officers are not allowed to discuss their involvement in a critical incident with each other or other police colleagues, except for official police investigators. The discourse of these individual officers is therefore (pursuant to administrative rules) suppressed or rendered silent within news media coverage in the immediate aftermath of these critical incidents. Such restrictions are intended to avoid any accusations of collusion between police officers with regard to details of the incident, and to ensure consistency, transparency, impartiality and rigour in relation to the formal critical incident investigation. This is important for coronial inquests, in particular, to ensure the integrity of the version of events provided by these police officers and other eyewitnesses. In light of such protocols, conversations that are allowed to occur between police officers in the immediate aftermath of a fatal mental health crisis intervention will often be viewed suspiciously and may later be scrutinised and questioned, especially during coronial proceedings. Just as frequently, a police officer may choose not to give evidence at a coronial inquest on the advice of their barrister— as happened for example with Podesta and Dilorenzo in the Roni Levi case (see Goodsir, 2001). For some police, this can be a difficult decision as it means they are not able to publicly defend themselves and their actions. “I feel I was deprived of my chance to say what happened”, reflects Trish Carl, a police officer who was responsible for shooting dead a woman who, armed with kitchen knives, had chased Carl down a driveway during a routine callout on night shift in regional NSW in 1995 (see Dasey & Silvester, 1997). In the absence of this information, “much of the public is left to form views of police use-of-force through a frame mediated by popular culture depictions” or the vicarious experiences of others (Mourtgos & Adams, 2019, p. 891) as well as the framing decisions made by journalists and news editors, acting as information intermediaries. As Hirschfield and

4 Making Sense of Fatal Mental Health Crisis Interventions

179

Simon (2010) explain, this can have “ideological implications, if not intent” (p. 164) in the context of the omission of these voices from published accounts of the event to which the public is privy, especially news stories. For one, it perpetuates the perception of police culture as insular and self-serving and creates the impression that police officers are neither negatively impacted by their involvement in a fatal mental health crisis intervention nor willing to publicly offer themselves up to criticism. This has broader implications for contemporary policing, not only in terms of the potential for reputational damage and the management of public image institutionally, but more practically in terms of the police relationship and interactions with mentally ill individuals in the community. News stories of police use of force resonate strongly with media audiences (Dowler & Zawilski, 2007; Lawrence, 2000) and stereotypes of frontline police officers as ‘gung ho’ and ‘trigger happy’ can have negative framing effects in terms of public confidence and the willingness to cooperate with police, as well as the levels of fear and stigma associated with police by mental health consumers. It is therefore important that police agencies recognise (and respond to) the fact that their interactions with news media reflect a complex set of relations that may not always produce favourable outcomes for the organisation, the individuals it engages with, or even those within its ranks. In other words, these interactions with news media can leave police officers as vulnerable to harmful constructions of risk-based identities as those with mental illness, with real-world implications for frontline policing and crisis encounters with vulnerable people in the community.

References Ade, J. (Editor/Story Producer), Ou, E., & Cahana, K. (Director/Cinematographer). (2019). A different kind of force—Policing mental illness [Documentary]. New York: NBC Left Field. Retrieved August 7, 2019, from https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DnOLvKEYIQI. Allan, S. (2013). Citizen witnessing. Cambridge: Polity Press.

180

K. Clifford

Alpert, G. P. (1989). Police use of deadly force: The Miami experience. In R. G. Dunham & G. P. Alpert (Eds.), Critical issues in policing (pp. 480–496). Prospect Heights, IL: Waveland. Altheide, D. (2002). Creating fear: News and the construction of crisis. New York: Aldine De Gruyter. Australian Institute of Criminology. (2013, May). Police shootings of people with a mental illness (Research in Practice No. 34). Canberra, ACT: Australian Government. Beck, U. (1992). Risk society: Towards a new modernity. London: Sage. Beck, U. (1999). World risk society. Malden, MA: Polity Press. Beck, U. (2005). Power in the global age: A new global political economy. Cambridge: Polity Press. Beck, U. (2009). World at risk. Cambridge: Polity Press. Bennett, W. L. (2009). The press, power and public accountability. In S. Allan (Ed.), The Routledge companion to news and journalism (pp. 105–115). London and New York: Routledge. Berkowitz, D., & TerKeurst, J. V. (1999). Community as interpretive community: Rethinking the journalist-source relationship. Journal of Communication, 49 (3), 125–136. Blood, W., & Holland, K. (2004). Risky news, madness and public crisis: A case study of the reporting and portrayal of mental health and illness in the Australian press. Journalism, 5 (3), 323–342. Blood, R. W., Pirkis, J., & Francis, C. (2004). News and social policy: Reporting of suicide and mental illness. Agenda, 11(3), 273–287. Blood, R. W., Tulloch, J., & Enders, M. (2000). Communication and reflexivity: Conversations about fear of crime. Australian Journal of Communication, 27 (3), 15–38. Brouwer, G. E. (2005). Review of fatal police shootings by Victoria Police (Report of the Director, Police Integrity). Melbourne, VIC: Office of Police Integrity Victoria. Brown, A. (2012, October 9). Independent inquiry the only way for police killing. Melbourne: Human Rights Law Centre. Retrieved May 11, 2019, from https://www.hrlc.org.au/news/independent-inquiry-the-only-way-forpolice-killing?rq=cassidy. Campbell, D. (2004). Horrific blindness: Images of death in contemporary media. Journal for Cultural Research, 8(1), 55–74. Carroll, M. (2005, December). Mental-health system overburdening police. Police Journal, 86, 18–22.

4 Making Sense of Fatal Mental Health Crisis Interventions

181

Cassidy, S. (2013). Individual communication to the United Nations human rights committee. Melbourne: Human Rights Law Centre. Chan, J. (1996). Changing police culture. British Journal of Criminology, 36 (1), 109–134. Charman, S. (2017). Police socialisation, identity and culture: Becoming blue. Cham, Switzerland: Palgrave Macmillan. Chermak, S. M., & Weiss, A. (2005). Maintaining legitimacy using external communication strategies: An analysis of police-media relations. Journal of Criminal Justice, 33(5), 501–512. Chibnall, S. (1977). Law and order news. London: Tavistock. Christensen, J., Schmidt, J., & Henderson, J. (1982). The selling of the police: Media, ideology, and crime control. Contemporary Crises, 6, 227–239. Clifford, K. (2010). The thin blue line of mental health in Australia. Police Practice & Research: An International Journal, 11(4), 355–370. Clifford, K., & White, R. (2017). Media and crime: Content, context and consequence. South Melbourne: Oxford University Press. Commission of Inquiry Pursuant to Orders in Council. (1989). Commission of inquiry into possible illegal activities and associated police misconduct. Brisbane, QLD: The Fitzgerald Inquiry. ‘Coronial inquests’. (2008, April 15). The Law Report. [Radio broadcast]. Sydney, NSW: ABC Radio National. [Transcript]. Retrieved November 2, 2011, from http://www.abc.net.au/rn/lawreport/stories/2008/2214208.htm. Dalton, V. (1998). Police shootings 1990–1997 (Trends and Issues in Crime and Criminal Justice, No. 89). Canberra, ACT: Australian Institute of Criminology. Dart, T. (2018, April 12). Family of unarmed black man killed by Texas police file wrongful death lawsuit. The Guardian. Retrieved August 7, 2019, from https://www.theguardian.com/us-news/2018/apr/12/danny-raythomas-police-shooting-unarmed-black-man-texas-houston. Dasey, D., & Silvester, J. (1997, July 6). The last thing you want to do is pull the trigger. The Sun-Herald , p. 43. Davidson, H., Allam, L., Wahlquist, C., & Evershed, N. (2018, August 31). ‘People will continue to die’: Coroners’ ‘deaths in custody’ reports ignored. The Guardian. Retrieved May 22, 2019, from https://www.theguardian. com/australia-news/2018/aug/31/people-will-continue-to-die-coroners-dea ths-in-custody-reports-ignored. Dowler, K., & Zawilski, V. (2007). Public perceptions of police misconduct and discrimination: Examining the impact of media consumption. Journal of Criminal Justice, 35 (2), 193–203.

182

K. Clifford

Dror, I. E. (2007). Perception of risk and the decision to use force. Policing: A Journal of Policy and Practice, 1(3), 265–272. Engel, R. S., McManus, H. D., & Isaza, G. T. (2020). Moving beyond “best practice”: Experiences in police reform and a call for evidence to reduce officer-involved shootings. The ANNALS of the American Academy of Political and Social Science, 687 (1), 146–165. Entman, R. M. (1993). Framing: Toward clarification of a fractured paradigm. Journal of Communication, 43(4), 51–58. Entman, R. M. (2004). Projections of power: Framing news, public opinion, and U.S. foreign policy. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Entman, R. M. (2010). Media framing biases and political power: Explaining slant in news of campaign 2008. Journalism, 11(4), 389–408. Finding after an inquest into the death of Elijah Holcombe. (2014, May 1). Chambers, Glebe. https://coroners.nsw.gov.au/documents/findings/2014/eli jah%20holcombe%20findings.pdf. Freckelton, I. (2016). Minimising the counter-therapeutic effects of coronial investigations: In search of balance. QUT Law Review, 16 (3), 4–29. Fyfe, J. J. (1982). Blind justice: Police shootings in Memphis. Journal of Criminal Law and Criminology, 73(2), 702–722. Gamson, W. (1982). Talking politics. New York: Cambridge University Press. Gamson, W. (1989). News as framing. American Behavioral Scientist, 33(2), 157–161. Gamson, W. A., & Modigliani, A. (1989). Media discourse and public opinion on nuclear power: A constructionist approach. American Journal of Sociology, 95 (1), 1–37. Gitlin, T. (1980). The whole world is watching: Mass media in the making and unmaking of the new left. Berkeley, CA: University of California Press. Goffman, E. (1974). Frame analysis. London: Penguin. Goldsworthy, T. (2014, November 25). Shoot to kill: The use of lethal force by police in Australia. The Conversation. Retrieved January 27, 2019, from https://theconversation.com/shoot-to-kill-the-use-of-lethalforce-by-police-in-australia-34578. Goldsworthy, T. (2017, July 27). I was a cop in Australia: We don’t shoot the people we’re sworn to protect. Vox. Retrieved January 27, 2019, from https://www.vox.com/first-person/2017/7/27/16038820/jus tine-damond-police-shooting-brutality-gun-laws. Goodsir, D. (2001). Death at Bondi: Cops, cocaine, corruption and the killing of Roni Levi. Sydney: Pan Macmillan Australia.

4 Making Sense of Fatal Mental Health Crisis Interventions

183

Hall, S., Critcher, C., Jefferson, T., Clarke, J., & Roberts, B. (1978/2013). Policing the crisis: Mugging, the state and law and order (2nd ed.). Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan. Hamdorf, R., Boni, N., Webber, I., Pikl, A., & Packer, J. (1998). National minimum guidelines for incident management, conflict resolution and use of force. Payneham, SA: National Police Research Unit. Hanusch, F. (2010). Representing death in the news: Journalism, media and mortality. Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan. Harradine, N., & Meachim, L. (2019, September 18). Woman shot by police in Geraldton, WA dies in hospital, family asks ‘who’s safe?’ ABC News. Retrieved September 20, 2019, from https://www.abc.net.au/news/2019-0918/police-incident-in-geraldton-woman-shot/11522252. Hirschfield, P. J., & Simon, D. (2010). Legitimating police violence: Newspaper narratives of deadly force. Theoretical Criminology, 14 (2), 155–182. Hogan, M. (1988). Let sleeping watchdogs lie. In M. Hogan, D. Brown, & R. Hogg (Eds.), Death in the hands of the state (pp. 115–190). Marrickville, NSW: Redfern Legal Centre Publishing. Holmes, M. D., & Smith, B. W. (2012). Intergroup dynamics of extra-legal police aggression: An integrated theory of race and place. Aggression and Violent Behavior, 17 (4), 344–353. Independent Advisory Panel on Deaths in Custody. (2015). Statistical analysis of recorded deaths 2000 to 2013. Retrieved June 10, 2015, from http://iapdeathsincustody.independent.gov.uk/wp-content/upl oads/2015/02/Statistical-analysis-of-recorded-deaths-2000-to-2013.pdf. INQUEST. (2014). INQUEST submission to the home affairs committee inquiry into policing and mental health. London: INQUEST. Retrieved May 27, 2015, from http://inquest.org.uk/pdf/briefings/INQUEST_HASC_pol icing_and_mental_health_submission_FINAL_May_2014.pdf. Inquest into the death of Adam Quddus Salter. (2011, October 14). NSW Coroner’s Court, Glebe. Inquest into the death of MC . (2017, August 17). NSW State Coroner’s Court, Glebe. https://coroners.nsw.gov.au/documents/findings/2017/MC%20Find ings%20-%20redacted.pdf. Jacobs, D., & Britt, D. (1979). Inequality and police use of deadly force: An empirical assessment of a conflict hypothesis. Social Problems, 26 (4), 403– 412. Johnson, R. R. (2011). Suspect mental disorder and police use of force. Criminal Justice and Behavior, 38(2), 127–145.

184

K. Clifford

Kania, R. E., & Mackey, W. C. (1977). Police violence as a function of community characteristics. Criminology, 15 (1), 27–48. Kesic, D., Ducat, L. V., & Thomas, S. D. M. (2011). Using force: Australian newspaper depictions of contacts between the police and persons experiencing mental illness. Australian Psychologist, 47 (4), 213–223. King, S. (2018, March 31). Danny Ray Thomas was a broken man who needed help: Instead he was gunned down by a cop in broad daylight. The Intercept. Retrieved August 7, 2019, from https://theintercept.com/2018/03/30/ stephon-clark-police-shooting-unarmed-black-man/. Kitzinger, J. (2000). Media templates: Patterns of association and the (re)construction of meaning over time. Media, Culture & Society, 22(1), 61–84. Kitzinger, J. (2004). Framing abuse: Media influence and public understanding of sexual violence against children. London and Ann Arbor, MI: Pluto Press. Klinger, D. A., & Brunson, R. K. (2009). Police officers’ perceptual distortions during lethal force situation: Informing the reasonableness standard. Criminology & Public Policy, 8(1), 117–140. Koubaridis, A. (2017, January 27). Former Melbourne detective lifts the lid on culture of fear inside Victoria Police. news.com.au. Retrieved July 31, 2019, from https://www.news.com.au/news/national/former-melbourne-det ective-lifts-lid-on-culture-of-fear-inside-victoria-police/news-story/bbf1be e3afe9ae527b2550e6588ebf55. Krishan, S., Bakeman, R., Broussard, B., Cristofaro, S. L., Hankerson-Dyson, D., Husbands, L., … Compton, M. T. (2014). The influence of neighborhood characteristics on police officers’ encounters with persons suspected to have a serious mental illness. International Journal of Law and Psychiatry, 37 (4), 359–369. Lawrence, R. G. (2000). The politics of force: Media and the construction of police brutality. Berkeley and Los Angeles, CA: University of California Press. ‘Lethal Force’. (2009, October 26). Four corners [Television broadcast]. Sydney, NSW: ABC TV. Lindlof, T. R. (2002). Interpretive community: An approach to media and religion. Journal of Media and Religion, 1(1), 63–76. Liska, A. E., & Yu, J. (1992). Specifying and testing the threat hypothesis. In A. Liska (Ed.), Social threat and social control (pp. 53–68). Albany: State University of New York Press. Mawby, R. C. (1999). Visibility, transparency and police-media relations. Policing and Society: An International Journal of Research and Policy, 9, 263–286.

4 Making Sense of Fatal Mental Health Crisis Interventions

185

McCulloch, J. (2001). Blue army: Paramilitary policing in Australia. Melbourne, VIC: Melbourne University Press. McDaniel, J. L. M. (2019). Reconciling mental health, public policing and police accountability. The Police Journal: Theory, Practice and Principles, 92(1), 72–94. McDermott, Q. (2012, March 5). Shooting deaths spark call for mental health overhaul. ABC News. Retrieved July 9, 2018, from http://www.abc.net.au/ news/2012-03-05/shooting-deaths-spark-call-for-mental-health-overhaul/ 3868754. McElvain, J. P. (2009). Police shootings and citizen behavior. El Paso, TX: LFB Scholarly Publishing LLC. McElvain, J. P., & Kposowa, A. J. (2008). Police officer characteristics and the likelihood of using deadly force. Criminal Justice and Behavior, 35 (4), 505–521. McKenzie, N. (2018, April 2). Beaten, abused, humiliated and filmed by Victoria Police. The Age. Retrieved June 10, 2019, from https://www.the age.com.au/national/victoria/beaten-abused-humiliated-and-filmed-by-vic toria-police-20180321-p4z5f2.html. McKenzie, N., & Baker, R. (2011, March 23). Police shootings scrutinised. The Age. Retrieved May 15, 2011, from http://www.theage.com.au/victoria/ police-shootings-scrutinised-20110322-1c589.html. Miethe, T. D., Venger, O., & Lieberman, J. D. (2019). Police use of force and its video coverage: An experimental study of the impact of media source and content on public perceptions. Journal of Criminal Justice, 60, 35–46. Miller, L. (2015). Why cops kill: The psychology of police deadly force encounters. Aggression and Violent Behavior, 22(May–June), 97–111. Mitchell, G. (2019, May 24). Threat from a blade ‘cannot be understated’, Central Station police shooting inquest told. The Sydney Morning Herald . Retrieved May 26, 2019, from https://www.smh.com.au/national/nsw/thr eat-from-a-blade-cannot-be-understated-central-station-police-shooting-inq uest-told-20190524-p51qty.html. Morris, G. (2006). Mental health issues and the media: An introduction for health professionals. London and New York: Routledge. Mourtgos, S. M., & Adams, I. T. (2019). Assessing public perceptions of police use-of-force: Legal reasonableness and community standards. Justice Quarterly, 37 (5), 869–899. Mulvey, P., & White, M. (2014). The potential for violence in arrests of persons with mental illness. Policing: An International Journal of Police Strategies & Management, 37 (2), 404–419.

186

K. Clifford

Nedim, U. (2014, December 27). Fatal police shootings—Is more weapons training needed? Sydney Criminal Lawyers [Blog post]. Retrieved January 27, 2019, from https://www.sydneycriminallawyers.com.au/blog/fatal-pol ice-shootings-is-more-weapons-training-needed/. Nix, J., & Wolfe, S. E. (2017). The impact of negative publicity on police self-legitimacy. Justice Quarterly, 34 (1), 84–108. NSW Office of the State Coroner. (2019). Report by the NSW state Coroner into deaths in custody/police operations for the year 2018. Lidcombe, NSW: NSW Office of the State Coroner, NSW Department of Attorney General and Justice. Retrieved June, 19, 2019, from http://www.coroners.justice.nsw. gov.au/Pages/Publications/death_custory_report.aspx. O’Connor, C., & O’Flaherty, A. (2019, September 20). Geraldton police shooting victim Joyce Clarke’s struggles with demons revealed amid community protests. ABC News. Retrieved September 20, 2019, from https://www.abc.net.au/news/2019-09-19/police-shooting-victim-joyce-cla rke-struggle-with-demons/11528364. Office of Police Integrity, Victoria. (2009). Review of the use of force by and against Victorian police. PP No. 165, Session 2006–2009. Melbourne, VIC: Office of Police Integrity—Victoria. Office of Police Integrity, Victoria. (2010). Review of the investigation of deaths associated with police contact. Melbourne, VIC: Office of Police Integrity— Victoria. Patty, A. (2008, May 19). He’d be alive if we had tasers: Police chief. The Sydney Morning Herald , p. 3. Pemberton, S. (2008). Demystifying deaths in police custody: Challenging state talk. Social & Legal Studies, 17 (2), 237–262. Philo, G. (Ed.). (1996). Media and mental distress. London: Longman. Police Commissioners’ Policy Advisory Group. (1992). National guidelines: Police use of lethal force. In National Guidelines Compendium. Report Series No. 123. Payneham, SA: National Police Research Unit. Police Integrity Commission. (2001). Report to Parliament: Operation Saigon. Sydney, NSW: Police Integrity Commission. Police Integrity Commission. (2017, May). Project Harlequin: Audit of the NSW Police Force investigations into 83 critical incidents occurring between 1 January 2009 and 30 June 2012. Sydney: State of New South Wales Through the Police Integrity Commission. Price, V., Tewksbury, D., & Powers, E. (1997). Switching trains of thought: The impact of news frames on readers’ cognitive responses. Communication Research, 24 (5), 481–506.

4 Making Sense of Fatal Mental Health Crisis Interventions

187

Rahr, S., & Rice, S. K. (2015). From warriors to guardians: Recommitting American Police culture to democratic ideals. New Perspectives in Policing Bulletin. Washington, DC: US Department of Justice, National Institute of Justice. Rich v Attorney-General of NSW . (2013). NSWCA 419. (Austl.). https://www. caselaw.nsw.gov.au/decision/54a63c173004de94513db5e0. Roberts, D. (2018, December 26). My advice for aspiring explainer journalists. Vox. Retrieved December 31, 2018, from https://www.vox.com/science-andhealth/2018/12/7/18117404/advice-for-journalists-news-media. Robertson, J. (2014, November 25). Queensland police shootings to be reviewed after four deaths in two months. The Guardian. Retrieved January 27, 2019, from https://www.theguardian.com/australia-news/2014/nov/ 25/queensland-police-shootings-to-be-reviewed-after-four-deaths-in-twomonths. Rossler, M. T., & Terrill, W. (2017). Mental illness, police use of force, and citizen injury. Police Quarterly, 20 (2), 189–212. Roth, A. (2018, May 30). A worried mom wanted the police to take her mentally ill son to the hospital: They shot him. Vox. Retrieved June 19, 2018, from https://www.vox.com/the-big-idea/2018/5/30/17406900/ police-shootings-mental-illness-book-vidal-vassey-mental-health. Sarre, R. (2018, March 21). Charges in Justine Damond case a reminder of the dangers of a ‘warrior cop’ mentality. The Conversation. Retrieved March 28, 2018, from https://theconversation.com/charges-in-justine-damond-case-areminder-of-the-dangers-of-a-warrior-cop-mentality-93725. Sasson, T. (1995). Crime talk: How citizens construct a social problem. New York: Aldine De Gruyter. Scharf, P., & Binder, A. (1983). The badge and the bullet: Police use of deadly force. New York: Praeger. Schneider, C. J. (2016). Policing and social media: Social control in an era of new media. Lanham, MD: Lexington Books. Shane, J., & Swenson, Z. (2019). Unarmed and dangerous: Patterns of threats by citizens during deadly force encounters with police. New York: Routledge. Sherman, L. W., & Langworthy, R. H. (1982). Measuring homicide by police officers. In J. J. Fyfe (Ed.), Readings on police use of deadly force (pp. 12–41). Washington, DC: Police Foundation. Skolnick, J. H., & Fyfe, J. J. (1993). Above the law: Police and the excessive use of force. New York: The Free Press. Sontag, S. (2003). Regarding the pain of others. London: Hamish Hamilton.

188

K. Clifford

Sorenson, J. R., Marquart, J. W., & Brock, D. E. (1993). Factors related to killings of felons by police officers. Justice Quarterly, 10 (3), 417–440. Stanford, S. (2012). Critically reflecting on being ‘at risk’ and ‘a risk’ in vulnerable people policing. In I. Bartkowiak-Théron & N. L. Asquith (Eds.), Policing vulnerability (pp. 20–32). Annandale: Federation Press. Steering Committee for the Review of Government Service Provision. (2019). Report on government services 2019: Part C, chapter 7 (courts). Melbourne: Productivity Commission. Retrieved June 19, 2019, from https://www.pc.gov.au/research/ongoing/report-on-governmentservices/2019/justice/courts. Stephey, M. J. (2007, August 8). De-criminalizing mental illness. Time Magazine. Retrieved February 1, 2010, from http://www.time.com/time/health/ article/0,8599,1651002,00.html. Studdert, D. M., Walter, S. J., Kemp, C., & Sutherland, G. (2016). Duration of death investigations that proceed to inquest in Australia. Injury Prevention, 22(5), 314–320. Tankard, J. W. (2003). The empirical approach to the study of media framing. In S. D. Reese, O. H. Gandy, & A. E. Grant (Eds.), Framing public life: Perspectives on media and our understanding of the social world (pp. 95–106). Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates. Teplin, L. A., & Pruett, N. S. (1992). Police as streetcorner psychiatrists: Managing the mentally ill. International Journal of Law & Psychiatry, 15 (2), 139–156. Terrill. (2005). Police use of force: A transactional approach. Justice Quarterly, 22(1), 107–138. Tewksbury, D., & Scheufele, D. A. (2009). News framing theory and research. In J. Bryant & M. B. Oliver (Eds.), Media effects: Advances in theory and research (3rd ed., pp. 17–33). New York: Routledge. Tiegreen, S., & Newman, E. (2008). The effects of news “frames” . Dart Center for Journalism & Trauma. Retrieved May 25, 2012, from http://dartcenter. org/content/effect-news-frames. Todak, N., & James, L. (2018). A systematic social observation study of police de-escalation tactics. Police Quarterly, 24 (4), 509–543. Traquina, N. (2004). Theory consolidation in the study of journalism: A comparative analysis of the news coverage of the HIV/AIDS issue in four countries. Journalism, 5 (1), 97–116. Van Maanen, J. (1980). Beyond account: The personal impact of police shootings. Annals of the American Academy of Political and Social Science, 452, 145–156.

4 Making Sense of Fatal Mental Health Crisis Interventions

189

Victoria Police. (1995). Project Beacon: Overview of progress. Melbourne: Victoria Police. Accessed via JV Barry Library at the Australian Institute of Criminology, Canberra, Australia (21 May 2008). Vitale, A. S. (2018). The end of policing. London and New York: Verso. Waddington, P. A. J. (1991). The strong arm of the law: Armed and public order policing. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Waddington, P. A. J. (2012). Cop culture. In T. Newburn & J. Peay (Eds.), Policing: Politics, culture and control—Essays in honour of Robert Reiner (pp. 89–109). Oxford and Portland, OR: Hart Publishing. Wahlquist, C. (2019, September 19). Geraldton shooting: Questions raised over WA police decision to use lethal force. The Guardian. Retrieved September 20, 2019, from https://www.theguardian.com/australia-news/ 2019/sep/19/geraldton-shooting-questions-raised-over-wa-police-decisionto-use-lethal-force. Wall, T., & Owen, C. (2017). Why are more people being shot by cops? UNDER FIRE. Stuff . Retrieved October 10, 2019, from https://interacti ves.stuff.co.nz/2017/11/under-fire/. Walters, B. (2005, April 8). Accounting for the lethal force. The Age. Retrieved May 16, 2009, from http://www.theage.com.au/news/Opinion/Accountingfor-the-lethal-force/2005/04/07/1112815666095.html. Watson, A. C., Angell, B., Morabito, M. S., & Robinson, N. (2008). Defying negative expectations: Dimensions of fair and respectful treatment by police officers as perceived by people with mental illness. Administration and Policy in Mental Health and Mental Health Services Research, 35 (6), 449–457. Westmarland, L. (2005). Police ethics and integrity: Breaking the blue code of silence. Policing & Society: An International Journal of Research and Policy, 15 (2), 145–165. Wild, K. (2018). Waiting for Elijah. Brunswick, VIC: Scribe Publications. Wild, K., Miskelly, G., & Wakatama, G. (2018, March 5). ‘A potent, tragic, fatal mix’: More than half of people shot dead by NSP police have a mental illness. ABC News. Retrieved March 7, 2018, from http://www.abc.net.au/ news/2018-03-05/police-shootings-and-mental-health-a-potent-tragic-fatalmix/9493356. Wood, J. R. T. (1997). Final report of the Royal Commission into the New South Wales Police Service [Volume II: Reform]. Sydney, NSW: The Government of the State of New South Wales and the Royal Commission into the New South Wales Police Service.

190

K. Clifford

Zelizer, B. (1992). Covering the body: The Kennedy assassination, the media, and the shaping of collective memory. Chicago: Chicago University Press. Zelizer, B. (1993, September). Journalists as interpretive communities. Critical Studies in Mass Communication, 10 (3), 219–237. Zelizer, B. (2004). Taking journalism seriously: News and the academy. Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage. Zelizer, B. (2009). Journalists as interpretive communities, revisited. In S. Allan (Ed.), The Routledge companion to news and journalism (pp. 181–190). London and New York: Routledge.

5 Case Study: The Paul Klein Incident

To illustrate the ways in which news framing practices can have particular framing effects when it comes to constructing meaning in response to a fatal mental health crisis intervention, this chapter analyses the media coverage of a specific historical case study: the Paul Klein incident. On the evening of 26 May 1998, in a suburb of Wollongong on the south coast of New South Wales (NSW), Paul Klein, a 30-year-old part-time security officer with the State Rail Authority, was fatally shot in the street outside his grandmother’s house during a routine police-involved mental health crisis intervention. I was living in Wollongong at the time that Klein was killed and, like many others, learned of his death through local news media. The Paul Klein incident occurred at the culmination of one of the darkest periods of contemporary policing in Australia. The mid-1990s retains the unenviable distinction of having the highest recorded number of fatal police-involved shootings in Australia—a significant proportion of which involved mentally ill individuals in crisis. As detailed in previous chapters, Victorian police carry the burden of responsibility for this, © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 K. Clifford, Policing, Mental Illness and Media, Palgrave Studies in Crime, Media and Culture, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-61490-4_5

191

192

K. Clifford

accounting for the lion’s share of the fatalities (Commonwealth Department of Health and Family Services, 1998; Dalton, 1998; McCulloch, 2001). Less than 12 months before Klein’s death, however, the NSW Police Service had weathered its own storm of controversy over another very public death: the fatal police-involved shooting of Roni Levi on Bondi Beach, Sydney. There were a number of similarities between the events that precipitated the fatal police shootings of Roni Levi and Paul Klein, and the mainstream media coverage that followed each incident. The case study and framing analysis that underpins this chapter demonstrates how the abstracted style of news reporting adopted in relation to the Paul Klein incident bears its own deficiencies, especially in the way it constructs identities within its narratives and interprets these along with the traumatic events with which they are associated. News stories of death often “rely on familiar archetypes and characters, which allow the media to present to the public conditions of the human environment that may defy conventional explanation” (Gutsche & Salkin, 2013, p. 64). But the binaries that these news reports typically hinge on (especially the construction of ‘victims’ and ‘villains’) and the economic benefits that are often served by news media’s perpetuation of the conflicts between lay and institutional stakeholders does little to inform and educate the public on the risks and complexities inherent to police interactions with severely distressed mentally ill individuals (Kesic, Ducat, & Thomas, 2011). This style of reporting also does little to further the cause for improvements to the mental health system and the care and treatment of mentally unwell members of society as a preventative measure to police use of force incidents. In truth, it does more to perpetuate the social stigma that still surrounds mental illness (including police perceptions of the potential for violence) as well as the public’s distrust of frontline officers (and media for that matter). What further makes the Paul Klein incident such an invaluable case study in this context is that, to my knowledge, it remains the only fatal mental health crisis intervention in Australia visually recorded in such complete and graphic detail by news media professionals—offering a counterpoint to the contemporary media ecosystem wherein professional journalists are frequently trumped in their coverage of such news stories by the visuals captured by ordinary bystanders and citizen journalists. It is also one of the few cases where news media coverage has

5 Case Study: The Paul Klein Incident

193

served so centrally as evidence about a death resulting from police use of force during a mental health crisis intervention. To this end, the Paul Klein incident offers a rich canvas for critical analysis of not only the ways in which private trauma is translated into public knowledge, but the potential effects these acts of framing can have on interpretations of mental ill-health and policing practice, as well as the processes of traumatic recovery and risk communications, and the questions this raises about what responsibilities media professionals bear in their reporting of news events of this kind. It also invites a critique of visual theories, specifically the opportunity to debunk some of the longstanding assumptions about the evidentiary force and probative value of news visuals, which have been alluded to in earlier chapters. Finally, as a case study, the Paul Klein incident serves to actualise many of the phenomena discussed in previous chapters, illustrating in particular—between this chapter and the next—the full extent of the complicated and contentious nature of lethal encounters between mentally unwell citizens and law enforcement, and their mediated representation.

The Unfolding of a Tragedy On the night in question, Paul Klein was at his grandmother’s house. According to evidence tendered during the coronial inquest, prior to the fatal shooting Klein had been behaving in a disturbed manner as a result of the ingestion of an unknown quantity of amphetamines. He had fallen asleep on the lounge. On the floor beside him were a number of kitchen knives, several of which his mother, who was also present at the house, confiscated and locked in her car, which was parked on the street outside. When his mother tried to wake him some time after, Klein became increasingly agitated, behaving aggressively towards her—a departure from his usual behaviour. His mother and grandmother retreated to a neighbour’s house, where concerned about his mental state, Klein’s mother made a call for police assistance in the hope that they would help transport him for treatment. The police radio operator was told that Klein was armed with a knife, was under the influence of drugs, and was acting irrationally, and that he had locked himself inside his

194

K. Clifford

grandmother’s house (Inquest into the Death of Paul Simon Klein, 1999). Testimony from a forensic psychiatrist at the coronial inquest revealed that Klein had experienced a 10-year history of mental health problems. Reminiscent of the medical histories of so many other mentally ill people tragically killed by police over past decades in Australia— recalling those such as Danukul Mokmool from the opening chapter of this book—Klein had repeatedly come in contact with local area mental health services, prior to his death. On one of these occasions, he had been apprehended under the NSW Mental Health Act, meaning his mental illness was known to local police officers, including several of those in attendance on the night of the fatal shooting. On arrival at the house, police immediately requested the presence of the community-based mobile treatment team, who advised an estimated arrival time of one-and-a-half hours, although two male psychiatric nurses reached the scene much earlier. Police approached the house, asking Klein to come out and speak to them. He smashed his fist through a plate glass panel near the front door, telling the police officers to “f**k off ” and to get his mother. The police retreated to the front yard of the property where, shortly after, smoke was observed coming from the premises. The fire brigade was called. By now, a small contingent of neighbours and other onlookers had gathered on the street outside the house. Despite conflicting accounts as to the establishment of ‘inner and outer perimeters’ and police instructions to neighbours to evacuate, the area surrounding the incident remained accessible to members of the public for the duration of the confrontation. At one point during the evening, Klein emerged on the front verandah of the house in possession of two kitchen knives, which he used to inflict injury to himself. Police officers on the front lawn of the property, with their guns drawn, yelled at Klein to put the knives down. He continued to pace the verandah, asking to speak with his mother and father; appeals that were refused by police after earlier attempts to have his mother communicate with him had caused Klein to become even more agitated (Inquest into the Death of Paul Simon Klein, 1999). Authorisation was requested to deploy the regionally-based State Protection Support Unit (SPSU) and specialist police negotiators.

5 Case Study: The Paul Klein Incident

195

At the time—much as it remains today—it was common for frontline police in the local area to come into contact with mentally ill individuals in crisis as part of their everyday policing duties. These mental health crisis encounters often involved some level of confrontation, which sometimes necessitated the use of coercive force by police. Despite this, the training provided to local police officers responsible for responding to mental health crises in the community was disproportionate to the prevalence of these encounters. Nine serious knife incidents, categorised as ‘high-risk’ and involving the threat of or actual self-harm, were cited during the coronial inquest into Paul Klein’s death as having taken place in the region within the 16 months prior. Six of these had involved SPSU tactical response, while another two had required SPSU deployment (Inquest into the Death of Paul Simon Klein, 1999). Police protocol at the time dictated that only a Regional Commander had the authority to deploy these units (a protocol that was subsequently changed as a result of Klein’s death). However, on the night of the Paul Klein incident, police radio operators were unable to make direct contact with the Regional Commander on duty, who was away with other regional commissioned officers at a police conference near the nation’s capital, Canberra. The problem was traced to a wrongly transcribed phone number on a whiteboard. Attempts to reach another senior police officer, who was able to authorise the request for SPSU attendance, also proved unsuccessful. Specialist officers from the State Protection Group (SPG) and the most senior police negotiator who resided nearby were alerted to the situation and placed on standby, pending authorisation to mobilise (Inquest into the Death of Paul Simon Klein, 1999). On arrival at the scene of the incident, firefighters found themselves unable to gain access to the premises to extinguish the fire due to Klein’s presence in and about the house. It is not an exaggeration to say the scene was chaotic. As the Deputy State Coroner, Jan Stevenson, explained at the coronial inquest into Klein’s death, the fire at the premises: …necessitated the spotlighting of the area around the house and street, [and] a large amount of noise from electricity generators and pumps and a multitude of fire brigade appliances, together with ambulance and personnel, were presented in front of the house. The ensuing noise caused

196

K. Clifford

or exacerbated police and Paul Klein to yell at each other in order to be heard. (Inquest into the Death of Paul Simon Klein, 1999, p. 2)

There were eight police officers, several with guns drawn, and a number more firefighters in the vicinity of the front yard as well as ambulance officers, neighbours and Mrs. Klein in and about the scene at the cul de sac. The extent to which the ambient noise from the emergency vehicle generators, the raised voices of police officers, drawn firearms, numerous onlookers and bright spotlights served to escalate the situation and exacerbate Paul Klein’s mental distress cannot be known. But as Stevenson concluded in her final judgement, the “noise and activity whilst dealing with a person in a florid psychotic state could only have had the effect of increasing such psychoses” (Inquest into the Death of Paul Simon Klein, 1999, p. 2). In this agitated state, Klein repeatedly refused police appeals to disarm himself, instead calling on them to “draw your guns and shoot me”. His father would later say in a media interview that his son’s appeals were calls for help, rather than calls to be shot (Klein cited in A Current Affair, 1999). But in evidence provided to the coronial inquest, the incident was referred to by police as an example of ‘suicide by cop’, also known as police-assisted suicide—a phenomenon whereby an individual behaves in a threatening manner with the intent of provoking a lethal response from law enforcement officers. As the intensity of the heat and flames from the house fire increased, Klein moved towards a garden tap close to the house in the front yard of the property. He put the knives on the ground and washed his hands before collecting the weapons and moving in the direction of police. Shortly before 11 p.m., two frontline officers fired three bullets into Klein’s chest, killing him. Tragically, just two minutes after the shooting, police at the scene received authorisation to mobilise the SPSU. A police negotiator arrived at the scene four minutes later (Connolly, 1999a). Writing for The Sydney Morning Herald newspaper, journalist Ellen Connolly (1999b) lamented in her coverage of the coronial inquest that the “dreadful irony” of the police protocol requiring contact with the Regional Commander for authorisation to mobilise the SPSU (and the deadly consequences of the delay in doing so) was that “permission was

5 Case Study: The Paul Klein Incident

197

needed to use shields and batons but no such authority was needed for police to draw their revolvers and shoot a man” (p. 40). Perhaps an even greater tragedy from the family’s perspective was the admission by the senior officer in charge at the scene that the decision to shoot Klein if he continued past the footpath at the front of the property (a figurative ‘line in the sand’) had been predetermined more than half an hour before he was shot dead by police. Beyond this point, Klein was deemed a ‘threat’ that could ‘no longer be contained’. Disputes over whether he actually represented a threat to police were evident throughout the coronial inquest and news media coverage of his death. In what remains a disturbing police radio transmission, played during coronial proceedings, the inspector at the scene on the night is heard to say, “He’s out the front with a knife. We’re going to shoot him in a minute”. Paul Klein’s father expressed a sense of frustration and dissatisfaction that the police had seemingly run out of options so early in the piece (Klein cited in A Current Affair, 1999).

The Probative Value of News Visuals In her coronial judgement, the NSW Deputy State Coroner observed that the facts relating to the death of Paul Klein were “well accepted”, perhaps more so than in any other coronial inquest into a fatal mental health crisis intervention in Australia leading up to that point, due to the existence of the photographs and recording of the fatal shooting (Stevenson cited in Inquest into the Death of Paul Simon Klein, 1999, p. 1). Despite the more recent proliferation of mobile and surveillance technologies and digital platforms, which have enhanced the opportunities for everyday witnesses to capture and publish visual evidence of controversial, violent and traumatic events as they occur—often ‘scooping’ news media to become a coveted news source in their own right—the Paul Klein incident remains one of the few, if not the only, fatal police-involved shooting of a mentally ill individual in Australia to be recorded in such full, graphic and moving detail. It stands alongside the fatal shooting of Roni Levi as one of the few fatal mental health crisis interventions in Australia to also be represented in detail to publics

198

K. Clifford

through the circulation of these news visuals in broadcast media and the printed press. Some of this is attributable to the uncharacteristically lengthy amount of time police had to interact with Paul Klein before the fatal shooting. History shows that critical incidents of this kind are often over within a matter of minutes, if not seconds—which makes them all the more newsworthy when there is footage or photographs of the encounter. At the same time, this makes the Paul Klein incident all the more tragic, given the opportunities this lengthier duration presented to de-escalate the situation and resolve it by means other than those that were lethal. But the proliferation of news visuals of the critical incident can also be attributed to the privileged access that local news media had to the scene. With minimal barriers established around the perimeter of the incident, news media professionals were able to record a significant portion of the two-hour sequence of events that led to the fatal shooting. The police did not prevent them from doing so, mostly because, according to coronial evidence and my own interviews with two of the officers involved, they did not know local news media were present until after Klein had been killed. This allowed a cameraman from one of the local television stations—WIN Television—to record in full the events leading up to and including Klein’s death, the raw footage of which is harrowing to say the least. Edited versions of this footage subsequently appeared on local and national news bulletins, not just over the following week, but sporadically throughout the following year. Photographs taken by a press photographer from the local regional newspaper, the Illawarra Mercury, who was also present at the scene with one of the newspaper’s journalists, were similarly reproduced in both the Illawarra Mercury and its metropolitan sister publication at the time, The Sydney Morning Herald . One of the more controversial news images to emerge from the critical incident was reproduced on the front-page of the Illawarra Mercury the morning after Klein’s death. The photograph, printed in colour across the entire middle half of the page, clearly depicted Klein’s body lying on the roadside moments after the fatal shooting. A headline above the photograph read ‘SHOT DEAD’, printed in bold capitals across the width of the page. Underneath the image, the subhead, ‘Police gun down Berkeley man’, appeared in less prominent typescript. Beneath this, text

5 Case Study: The Paul Klein Incident

199

in a breakout box framed the accompanying news story as an ‘EXCLUSIVE FROM THE SCENE’, providing the news report with added legitimacy and authority in its identification of the newspaper’s journalist and photographer as witnesses to the tragedy. “On the face of things”, writes Zelizer (2010), media professionals value these kinds of news images “for their ‘eyewitness’ authority and the act of ‘having been there’ that a photograph implies… photographs help journalists credential their coverage by drawing on photographic verisimilitude and realism to show that one was present to witness an event” (pp. 15–16; see also Allan, 2013; Zelizer, 2005). A number of scholars have actively sought to challenge such ‘truth claims’ (e.g. Barthes, 1982; Berger, 1980; Burgin, 1982; Sontag, 1977; Tagg, 1988; Zelizer, 2002, 2005, 2010). These images, they argue, are no less the subject of mediation and malleability, through acts of selection and editing, than other forms of mediated representation. As Messaris and Abraham (2003) explain, “choosing one view instead of another when making the photograph, cropping or editing the resulting image one way instead of another, or simply just choosing to show viewers one image out of the many others that may have been produced at the same place and time” (p. 218) bears special relevance to the veiled articulation of particular ideologies. The process, says Schwalbe (2006), “continues in the newsroom with decisions about which images to publish, what size to make them, and where to position them on the page” (p. 269). When news media professionals choose which photograph or piece of video footage to use, it is an act of framing, just as crafting verbal or textual news narratives is through the use of particular language choices and rhetorical devices. But as Coleman (2010) points out, choosing something “based on journalistic values or because the image grabs attention, or even simply because the page needs a photo, can have consequences beyond what the journalist envisioned” (p. 243)—that is, it can have framing effects. When media ask audiences to witness a news event, especially one so troubling and traumatic as a fatal mental health crisis intervention, they arguably acquire added social responsibilities and obligations towards those audiences as well as the subjects depicted within the news story.

200

K. Clifford

The Illawarra Mercury’s front-page photograph—one of literally dozens taken by the newspaper’s photographer on the night of the fatal police-involved shooting—depicted five of the police officers involved in the critical incident standing around Paul Klein’s body. An ambulance officer is identifiable to the left of frame. A member of the mobile treatment team stands in the background behind the police officers. He looks towards the camera; the only person to do so in the photograph. Two of the police officers are clearly shown standing on Klein’s hands. The blood on his body contrasts sharply against their blue uniforms. Recalling this moment over a decade later, one of the police officers depicted in the photograph told me: …at the time when that picture was taken, they [the police] did have a foot on his hand. He was also being covered… whilst I removed all the knives and made sure there were no other knives on him before I could call the ambulance people in to treat him. I couldn’t take a risk that he still had the ability to slip a knife into the ambulance people, so that’s what we were retrieving at the time, but the picture in isolation certainly looks like, you know, it has a bad showing for us, I guess… looking at it in isolation, it makes it look like we’re the aggressors…

One of the more questionable aspects of the photograph’s selection was the fact that it meant the faces, and therefore identities, of Klein and each of the police officers were clearly identifiable to readers in the local community hours after the incident. In this ‘frozen moment’, the facial expressions of the police officers display no real sense of urgency. They offer the impression that this is a routine operational procedure. To readers, their facial expressions could easily have been (mis)interpreted as showing indifference, particularly in light of the ‘SHOT DEAD’ headline accompanying the photograph on the newspaper’s front-page. In an interview with Dr. Jan Servaes for Amherst Community Television (2010), former journalist now academic and media critic, Barbie Zelizer lamented that the ways in which visual images are often used in the news, particularly in times of trauma, reflects a “profoundly insufficient set of clear standards” for the ethical incorporation of visual images as news framing devices in crisis reporting. This is despite,

5 Case Study: The Paul Klein Incident

201

according to Zelizer, an ever-increasing predilection towards the use of the visual in news media coverage of this kind. She argues: …what we have is a gravitation towards one kind of tool for news relay that we haven’t really thought out. We haven’t thought how it works, when it works, who it works on, and in which ways. That, to me, is also a question of literacy. But it’s a question of literacy among journalists… How can we create circumstances for more thoughtful engagement with public events? (Zelizer cited in Amherst Community Television, 2010)

While the conversation has evolved over the intervening period— and certainly since the Paul Klein incident—many of the same issues continue to surface in debates about the visual politics of mediated representations of major news events. Debates over “what to show, how to show it, where and when it can be seen” are rampant, but especially so in relation to “depictions that involve contentious circumstances” or that have a proximity to death (Zelizer, 2017, p. 88). Coverage of formative incidents, such as the MH17 disaster and the war on Gaza, prompted journalist and scholar Julie Posetti (2014), among others, to question whether social media is to blame for the increasingly graphic images—especially of death—that have crept into news media (see also Carr, 2014; Elliott, 2014). They argue that the inability to control what is shared on social media and to demand social media users’ compliance with professional codes of conduct has negatively impacted (by potentially lowering) publication standards at the same time as it has magnified the traumatising and desensitising aspects of media professionals’ repeated exposure to images of human suffering. Similar concerns about how to preserve the credibility, integrity and appropriateness of professional journalism, given the nature of published content on social networking sites, were renewed in the wake of subsequent newsgenerating tragedies such as the drowning death of three-year-old Syrian boy Alan Kurdi amid the European refugee crisis in 2015 and the Christchurch mosque shootings in New Zealand in March 2019. We have also seen growing disquiet about the lack of ethical guidelines for immersive journalism content, with questions about what it means to enable news audiences to ‘step inside a story’ using VR technologies when

202

K. Clifford

the ideal ‘test subjects’ for this burgeoning style of reporting are stories of human suffering, which can potentially create emotional distress and discomfort for users (see Clifford & White, 2020; Sánchez Laws & Utne, 2019). As Biber (2019) observes: Digital technologies have driven a new visibility, the ability to see secrets on an ever-larger and more immediate level, and this new visibility demands a sensitive response. Given the nature and quantity of this imagery, we must now ask ourselves: Should I see this? (p. 64)

The same question applies to traditional news media. But this does not mean that disturbing photographs should never be seen in news media coverage of trauma and ‘mediated public crisis’. On the contrary, Wischmann (1987) argues, the “right to photograph news events should not be restricted. But the right to photograph does not necessarily mean all photographs should be published” (p. 68). What observations such as those of Zelizer and others reflect, in part, is a call for improved digital and visual literacy and reflexivity in professional media practice that more closely aligns with the ideals of trauma-informed journalism, which seeks to “inform, not overwhelm” audiences by producing content that “is responsible to and resonant with those who need it most” (Godlasky, 2020), while also protecting media practitioners from the effects of trauma exposure. According to the ‘best practice’ principles of trauma reporting, the inclusion of disturbing photographs and video in news media coverage warrants professional scrutiny where such visual news framing is either inappropriate to context or harmful (Kawamoto, 2005). This includes situations where the visual images intrude on the pain and traumatic recovery of individuals or where the news visuals do nothing to contribute constructively to public understandings and community attitudes. This is most readily identifiable in cases where a “collapse of journalistic standards” or a “dereliction of journalistic duty” has obviously occurred (Kitzinger & Reilly, 1997, p. 346). As German sociologist Max Weber (1919) once noted, “it is the irresponsible pieces of journalism that tend to remain in the memory because of their often terrible effects” (p. 55).

5 Case Study: The Paul Klein Incident

203

Of course, not all news media professionals will act irresponsibly in their reporting of violent death and traumatic incidents, and not all news media coverage of this kind is inherently bereft of compassion or sincerity. As Brown (1987) reminds us, “[j]ournalists are human beings, even when they are doing the work of journalism. Yet they often get caught between the obligations of their jobs and their obligations as citizens” (p. 79). More to the point, the matter of whether and when news media professionals should show compassion towards the people and the issues they report on, and more thoughtful engagement towards the images they use in these stories, is not always readily identifiable in professional codes of ethics and/or reporting guidelines. Compassion as an ethical virtue does not easily translate into a reporting standard or professional code of practice (Brown, 1987). The Australian Media, Entertainment & Arts Alliance (MEAA, 2020) code of ethics says journalists must weigh the potential for private harms to subjects against the public interest value of news stories. But this is not a straightforward calculation, given the interests of private individuals and the broader public (of which they are members) are “not easily separable but entangled in multiple ways” (Palmer, 2018, p. 210). No matter how much work journalists do “to wrestle events into publishable form”, people who become the subjects of news stories will often regard them as their stories because they have “a more intimate relationship to the trigger at the story’s core” and are the ones who have to “deal with the consequences of the news coverage after the journalist” is long gone (Palmer, 2018, p. 198). Despite this, it is not entirely clear “to what degree journalists do or should feel responsible for the outcomes of the stories they write” (Palmer, 2018, p. 193)—or, for that matter, what responsibility audiences should assume for their own responses to media coverage.

Reader Response to the Visual Framing of the News Story Following the publication of the ‘SHOT DEAD’ front-page, the switchboard at the Illawarra Mercury received an unprecedented number of

204

K. Clifford

complaints. Many at the newspaper, including then-Acting Editor-inChief, Nick Hartgerink, were “quite surprised at the depth of the reaction” from the public. He recalled in an interview with me that: [There were a] lot of very angry people, quite disgusted, I would say, with the [news]paper. The tone of the complaints was, “I shouldn’t have to confront this kind of scene at my breakfast table when my family’s there, kids and so on. It’s just too graphic, too dramatic, an event. There’s a body… a blood covered dead body”. And look, I can see their point of view.

The general tenor of reader complaints was reflected in two separate ‘Letters to the Editor’, published in the Illawarra Mercury on 2 June 1998. Each letter was particularly critical of the newspaper’s front-page layout. Both questioned its potential to produce detrimental impacts on grieving family and friends, and highlighted the vicarious trauma that could be produced for unsuspecting readers who had been confronted (and affronted) by the front-page image. Enduring news frames about the sensitivities of children and the negative consequences of repeated and gratuitous exposure to violence in the media were evident in both letters. One author’s framing of the issue was strongly reminiscent of many of the arguments proposed in the context of moral panic debates over the causal effects of media saturation in relation to representations of crime and deviance: “Promoting scenes like that, is it no wonder that we live in an increasingly violent society?” (Phillips, 1998, p. 10). Both letters demonstrated, in their criticism of the newspaper’s front-page, the idea of resistant readings among news consumers and the contested nature of news frames; the way in which, as Pirkis, Blood, Dare, and Holland (2008) have elsewhere noted, “[t]o every frame, there is the potentiality of a counter frame” (p. 125). Commentary on the ethics of ‘bearing witness’ to tragedies and traumatic events such as the Paul Klein incident was also prevalent. One of the letter writers questioned the reflexivity of the person responsible for the decision to publish the newspaper’s front-page image and objected to the “ethical standard” and “lack of professionalism”, as they perceived it, inherent within this editorial choice (Agnew-Ryan, 1998, p. 10).

5 Case Study: The Paul Klein Incident

205

The author indicated that, while she had purchased the newspaper that morning, “before I took the paper from the store I gave the front-page back to the newsagent” (Agnew-Ryan, 1998, p. 10). The second letter writer also criticised the ethics of the newspaper’s photographer: Most decent people, if witnessing something like that, would turn away in shock. I know I would. However, your photographer stopped and got close-up photos of a bloodied dead man. The [Illawarra] Mercury took the right (to look away) from all its readers (including children) and plastered that appalling photo on the front page for all to see. (Phillips, 1998, p. 10)

Contemporary guidelines on the ‘best practice’ principles of trauma reporting seek to address these sentiments in their advice to news media professionals to: Warn readers about graphic content rather than surprise them. Give them an opportunity to choose not to read the article or view the images or to protect their children from viewing them. (Kawamoto, 2005, p. 16)

As evidenced by the responses of its readers, no cautionary principles were adopted by the Illawarra Mercury in its reporting of the Paul Klein incident. However, this was not entirely inconsistent with the newspaper’s editorial philosophy at the time. By the time of the Paul Klein incident, the Illawarra Mercury had earned itself a dubious reputation as a result of regular appearances on the Australian Broadcasting Corporation (ABC)’s television programme, Media Watch, whose role it was (and still is) to expose and scrutinise questionable media practices. The “merciless lampooning” of the newspaper by the programme’s then-host, Stuart Littlemore, had turned the Illawarra Mercury into “a byword for the excesses and frailties of tabloid journalism” (‘Citizen Cullen’, 1998). True to this reputation, the newspaper continued its provocative visual news framing of the Paul Klein incident in its 28 May edition. The editorial responsibility for the follow-up news media coverage reverted to Peter Cullen as then Editor-in-Chief of the newspaper. The edition featured a full front-page photographic storyboard of 11 colour images framed by the headline, ‘COUNTDOWN TO TRAGEDY’, and

206

K. Clifford

the subhead, ‘The night terror came to a ‘perfect’ Berkeley street’. Each image was accompanied by its own photo caption, which taken together effectively guided readers through the newspaper’s own interpretation and narrative of the sequence of events leading to Paul Klein’s death. This visual pastiche included as its final frame a smaller reproduction of the ‘SHOT DEAD’ image from the previous day’s front-page (Frame 11), as well as a blurred image that supposedly illustrated the moment of the fatal shooting (Frame 10). To the naked eye, the photograph displayed grainy shadows of barely identifiable individuals and cars on a street. The image was nowhere near print quality, and its newsworthiness and inclusion were questionable on this basis alone. The front-page photographic composition concerned Hartgerink, who admitted that he would never have followed up the previous day’s front-page news framing with similarly graphic news media coverage of the shooting: I remember being pretty horrified by that [the front-page from 28 May 1998]. Not so much because it wasn’t a good news page, because it was a very good news page. But I just remember thinking, “god, we’ve offended so many people…maybe they’ll get over it if we don’t re-offend them”…

The relationship between the visual images and their captions served to anchor the photographs within a narrative of uncontrolled violence, dangerousness, and risk and resistance, closely associated with Paul Klein. Many of the selected visual frames depicted Klein in what readers were encouraged to identify as threatening stances; chest exposed and often with knives raised in hand as if to induce harm. This construction of risk subjectivity was repeatedly supported by the photo captions: ‘Klein waves a knife at police and orders fire crews to leave’ (Frame 4); ‘Klein slashes himself repeatedly during the siege’ (Frame 8); ‘Klein refuses police orders to drop the knife’ (Frame 9); ‘Still armed, Klein is shot twice and falls to the ground’ (Frame 10). The relationship between the visual and textual news frames reflected what Hall (1981) has elsewhere identified as the “very common practice for the captions to news photographs to tell us, in words, exactly how the subject’s expression ought to be read” (p. 229). This ‘referentiality’ is also referenced by Butler (2009) in her critical analysis of the practice of

5 Case Study: The Paul Klein Incident

207

embedded reporting in the Iraq conflict and wartime photographs, such as the Abu Ghraib images of torture. She writes: The photographs are not only shown, but named; the way that they are shown, the way they are framed, and the words used to describe what is shown, work together to produce an interpretive matrix for what is seen. (Butler, 2009, p. 79)

But what is indicated by a news photo’s caption does not always necessarily match the reality of the news event represented or a viewer’s own interpretation of it. The first image in the Illawarra Mercury’s front-page visual chronology, for example, depicted Klein silhouetted against the light on the front verandah of his grandmother’s house with a kitchen knife raised towards his chest. The caption for the photograph instructed readers, ‘Paul Klein, 30, threatens to kill himself ’ (‘COUNTDOWN TO TRAGEDY: The night terror came to a ‘perfect’ Berkeley street’, 1998, p. 1), even though there was no verifiable evidence to support this. The second frame of the photographic storyboard showed Klein slumped forward over the railing of the front verandah with his head bowed and rested on his crossed arms. In the background, the house is well ablaze. The photograph was captioned, ‘Klein shields his eyes as flames take hold’ (‘COUNTDOWN TO TRAGEDY: The night terror came to a ‘perfect’ Berkeley street’, 1998, p. 1). An alternate reading or interpretation of this news photograph might contend that it depicted a less dramatic set of circumstances than those suggested by the image caption. This proposition is further validated when the news image is viewed in the context of the real-time audiovisual footage recorded by WIN Television, which shows that the still frame referred to as emblematic of Klein shielding his eyes from the house fire more accurately depicted a mentally distressed and debilitated man for whom the house fire was of little consequence at the moment the photograph was taken. He leans forward over the verandah with his head rested on his forearms in what could be described as a gesture of mental torment and exhaustion, rather than as an act of shielding his eyes from the flames. What we might conclude from this is that the evidentiary force often ascribed to

208

K. Clifford

news photographs is not absolute, but rather remains inherently dependent upon and connected to context and mediation (Clifford & White, 2017).

What the Newspapers Told Readers Alongside What They Showed Much of what was written, as a complement to what was shown, in the newspapers about the Paul Klein incident and the circumstances of Klein’s death was similarly sensationalised, and often over-emphasised the more dramatic and graphic details of the event. This was sometimes at the expense of factual accuracy (when measured against the coronial and legal evidence). More often, it correlated with an absence of contextualised reporting, particularly in the early stages of the media coverage, when textual news frames tended to be highly episodic or event-driven and focused on the who, what, where, when and how of the incident and, more generally, on news frames of ‘conflict’ and the ‘attribution of responsibility’ (see Semetko & Valkenburg, 2000). This aligns with the findings of Iyengar’s (1991) seminal study of news reporting of social issues in the United States, which found that daily news media coverage is often strongly biased towards an episodic interpretation of events, as opposed to a thematic news frame. The former refers to news that is presented in event-oriented terms (providing little context to or interpretation of related social issues) and is often determined by the negative nature of the event. In contrast, thematic news frames tend to examine “broader social phenomena”, which may place news events in the context of “some rising trend or troubling social condition” (Lawrence, 2000, p. 94). The issue of culpability was a particular focus of early news media coverage of the Paul Klein incident. Institutional spokespeople such as the NSW Police Minister, the Secretary of the NSW Police Association and other senior-ranked commissioned officers—the ‘police brass’ of the NSW Police Service—featured as prominent primary definers of these news stories in the first instance. Their ‘individualising’ news frames sought to normalise the necessity for police use of force,

5 Case Study: The Paul Klein Incident

209

portraying it as a sensible response to a dangerous situation. These individualising claims, Lawrence (2000) argues, function as “preemptive damage control strategies” (p. 39), given that they seek to not only dominate, but control the media message and ‘set the agenda’ for public discussions and interpretations of police use of deadly force incidents. Comments from the NSW Police Minister, published on the second day of reporting after the incident, exemplified this: “It is a tragic event, a tragedy for everybody—but it just shows you that every day police put their lives on the line and it shows the profession of policing is a very tough job” (Whelan cited in ‘THE NIGHT TERROR CAME TO YORK ST: Minister defends police shooting’, 1998, p. 2). This primary definition of the event supported the news framing of police officers as the “vulnerable thin blue line between order and chaos” (Lawrence, 2000, p. 30). Where these representations were contested, these same police officers were portrayed as “gung-ho, reactionary and violent” (O’Gorman cited in ‘THE NIGHT TERROR CAME TO YORK ST: Cops are ‘gung-ho”, 1998, p. 2). As the sources of these latter claims, critical non-officials, such as representatives of justice and civil liberties groups, also questioned the need for police to shoot Paul Klein dead. Criticism was directed towards police training and the perception that police officers were purposefully instructed to ‘shoot to kill’ with few alternative methods available for mental health crisis resolution. Some commentators reasoned that Klein could have been shot in the leg instead. Responding to the claims, the NSW Police Association Secretary did the police few favours by perpetuating, rather than defending against, the news frame of police officers as ‘trigger happy cops’, arguing that Klein had been a significant enough threat to the community to warrant a lethal response: To shoot him in the leg is not only unrealistic but ridiculous. When someone is coming at you with an intent to kill, you do not shoot him in the leg, you shoot to kill… No member of the police force relishes taking such action. (Remfrey cited in ‘THE NIGHT TERROR CAME TO YORK ST: Police had to shoot to kill: union’, 1998, p. 3)

210

K. Clifford

The comments suggested that rather than “a last resort”, as had previously been claimed (see Remfrey cited in Jamieson, Kennedy, & Murphy, 1998, p. 5), the discharge of firearms had been the only option available to the police officers involved.

Shifting Attributions of Responsibility and Blame The violent circumstances of Paul Klein’s death served as a moral compass for appeals for the widespread introduction of not only capsicum spray as a less-lethal alternative to police use of firearms, but also for enhanced police training in negotiation techniques when dealing with mentally ill individuals in crisis (see ‘THE NIGHT TERROR CAME TO YORK ST: Cops are ‘gung-ho”, 1998, p. 2; ‘THE NIGHT TERROR CAME TO YORK ST: Police had to shoot to kill: union’, 1998, p. 3). Coronial recommendations from the inquest into the death of Roni Levi were frequently cited as evidence that “little appeared to have improved” since the fatal police-involved shooting on Bondi Beach the year before (Doris cited in Connolly, 1999c, p. 5; see also Jamieson et al., 1998, p. 5). Arguments in favour of the introduction of alternative less-lethal tactical options were often framed in absolute terms; that the use of capsicum spray would have guaranteed a safer outcome to that which had resulted from the confrontation between police and Klein. More than this, news media coverage of the debate framed capsicum spray (the police technology du jour at the time) as a panacea to the police use of lethal force. The only print media coverage to counter such claims was a news story published in the weekend edition of The Sydney Morning Herald on 30 May 1998, which questioned the capacity of capsicum spray to reduce the incidence of fatal police-involved shootings. The report drew heavily on Victoria Police statistics that showed “the spray was not effective in 14 per cent of cases” and that there were a number of “circumstances in which it could not be used” (Dixon, 1998, p. 44). Despite the jurisdictional difference, the news framing managed to conflate Klein’s death with the notorious incidence of fatal police-involved shootings in

5 Case Study: The Paul Klein Incident

211

Victoria; “something Victorian police have a propensity to do”, the article claimed (Dixon, 1998, p. 44). By framing NSW police performance and the Paul Klein incident in the same context as these prominent and negative news frames, the story inferred that Victoria’s violent and reactionary period of policing was an endemic pattern of response across all policing jurisdictions. As the press coverage of the Paul Klein incident developed, responsibility for the fatal shooting became less concentrated and more broadly contested. News frames reflected a shift in the attribution of responsibility from the police officers involved in the incident to the NSW Police Service and politicians for their failure to adequately prepare and properly resource frontline police officers for these types of interventions. Defending the actions of the police officers involved, the NSW Police Association was especially critical of the failure to adequately resource frontline officers against “what occurs in these situations and the huge risk police are actually at” (Remfrey cited in ‘THE NIGHT TERROR CAME TO YORK ST: Police had to shoot to kill: union, 1998, p. 3). These news frames impacted on the subjectivities of police officers earlier constructed in and by the press, with references to individual police officers involved in the critical incident often framed in more sympathetic terms than they had previously been. News narratives that either contested or expanded on the blame frames earlier constructed in news reports suggested that Klein had been responsible for his own death. In a news item published in the Illawarra Mercury two days after the fatal shooting, NSW Police Association Secretary, Paul Remfrey, was quoted as saying: “If these people do not arm themselves with guns or knives, then this situation would not occur” (see Remfrey cited in ‘THE NIGHT TERROR CAME TO YORK ST: Police had to shoot to kill: union’, 1998, p. 3). The implications of Remfrey’s comments were far-reaching; not only did his reference to ‘these people’ serve to essentialise all people with mental illness (particularly those experiencing psychosis), but in doing so, it criminalised mentally ill individuals in crisis. It also obscured the possibility that systemic deficiencies (be they operationally-oriented or related to mental health care) had played a role in the fatal outcome to the Paul Klein incident. Klein’s death was presented as a moral exemplar to other mentally

212

K. Clifford

ill individuals of the risks of armed confrontations with frontline police. This framing failed to acknowledge the cognitive impairment experienced during episodes of acute psychosis, and inferred that all mentally ill individuals in this situation retained the capacity to modify their behaviour to comply with police directives—the implication being that those who chose not to faced serious consequences. As Lawrence (2000) points out, individualising claims such as these are not exclusively official—they may also be attributable to witnesses who attest that the deceased threatened police officers prior to the police use of force and to public perceptions that the deceased “deserved their treatment at the hands of police” (p. 37). This was true of news media coverage of the Paul Klein incident. One news report quoted a witness and neighbour as saying, “The police were wonderful—in the circumstances they could not have done anything else” (Graham cited in Carty, 1998a, p. 2), while another said, “I don’t think the police could have done any better without them getting hurt themselves” (Leng cited in Carty, 1998b, p. 3). Other news stories demonised Klein, suggesting his mental ill-health had an agency of its own: On that night the demons which he had hidden so well burst forth and took over, transforming him from a nature-loving gentleman into a monster. (Carty, 1998c, p. 3)

But rarely was Klein’s disturbed behaviour otherwise attributed to his known psychiatric history. Instead, news stories often referred to it as a consequence of his ‘problems’: news narrative code for ‘mental illness’. Mental health expert opinion was absent from the majority of the news media coverage of the incident. So too, prior to the coronial inquest into his death, there was little reference to Klein himself in any newspaper headlines. Where he was mentioned, it was rarely by name. More often, he was dehumanised and objectified as a nameless ‘man’ or a ‘blood-stained body’ (see, e.g., Agnew-Ryan, 1998; Carty, 1998a, 1998c; Jamieson, 1998; Keeble, 1998). This is indicative of the framing often found in police statements after a fatal mental health crisis intervention, which typically refer to broad characterisations such as ‘police officers’,

5 Case Study: The Paul Klein Incident

213

‘the man’, ‘an independent critical incident team’, ‘the Coroner’, ‘a crime scene’.

Manufacturing the ‘Out of Control’ Madman and the Politicisation of Klein’s Death Despite the absence of explicit references to mental illness in early reports of the events leading to Paul Klein’s death, the terms used to describe his physical appearance and disturbed behaviour were consistent with common stereotypical depictions and media templates of mentally ill individuals as ‘mad, bad and dangerous to know’. Klein was labelled a “knife-wielding madman” (see Carty, 1998c, p. 3; Cullen, 1998, p. 5) and a “huge risk” to both police and the local community (see Remfrey cited in ‘THE NIGHT TERROR CAME TO YORK ST: Police had to shoot to kill: union’, 1998, p. 3). In one news item, a neighbour described him on three separate occasions as “out of control” in the hours leading to his tragic death (see Leng cited in Carty, 1998b, p. 3). These eyewitness statements were often used as the factual basis of news reports, despite the effects of their dramatic language on the construction of Paul Klein in the press: It was horrifying. It was terrible… and after he slit his hands and the blood was pouring out he wiped the blade of the knife on his chest. We thought he was going to stab himself in the chest… He kept shouting… He was just out of control. (Leng cited in Carty, 1998b, p. 3)

The particular news item in which this quote featured formed part of special extended coverage of the Paul Klein incident in the Illawarra Mercury two days after the fatal shooting. The collection of news reports, published under the banner headline, ‘THE NIGHT TERROR CAME TO YORK ST’, included several separate stories, which each sought to give voice to a different perspective on the critical incident. These ranged from the official responses of police sources to the lay discourse of justice and civil liberties groups, neighbours and family and friends who had witnessed the fatal shooting. Among these, the latter accounts were

214

K. Clifford

consistently some of the most melodramatic in terms of both rhetoric and news framing. Their inclusion reflected the way in which, as Sieff (2003) explains: Providing all sides of a story may result in frames overemphasizing a less credible, extremely vivid perspective. Interviewing neighbors of a person with a mental illness may provide especially vivid, but not particularly valid reports of behavior, and may serve to reinforce the notion that the individual is violent or unable to live independently. (p. 265)

This was symptomatic of not only this selection of press coverage, but of much of the news media coverage of the Paul Klein incident. A particularly provocative and controversial editorial by Peter Cullen as Editor-in-Chief of the Illawarra Mercury, published in the weekend edition of the newspaper following Paul Klein’s death, went so far as to describe Klein as “programmed to kill” (see Cullen, 1998, p. 5). The editorial referred to Klein’s refusal to disarm himself, despite repeated police requests to do so, as irrefutable evidence of his “highly probable intention of killing one of them”. Contextualisation of the incident by way of information about the effects of drug-induced psychosis on an individual’s cognitive functions was again excluded in favour of an ‘agency’ frame: “Police asked him [Klein] at least six times to drop the knife. He was advancing menacingly and ignored all police calls to stop” (Cullen, 1998, p. 5). Not unlike official police discourse prior to it, which framed Klein as having “an intent to kill” (see, e.g., Remfrey cited in ‘THE NIGHT TERROR CAME TO YORK ST: Police had to shoot to kill: union’, 1998, p. 3), Cullen’s editorial used these risk constructions to foreground the vulnerabilities of operational policing and the courage of frontline police officers. In this respect, Cullen’s editorial did manage to provide some context to the experiences of police as first responders to mental health crisis incidents by highlighting “the number of times police do overpower and disarm people with knives” without killing them— a point conveniently forgotten in the normative news framing of fatal mental health crisis interventions and public discussions of police use of force incidents. But it did this at Klein’s expense and for the purposes of

5 Case Study: The Paul Klein Incident

215

advancing a very specific political agenda. According to Cullen’s editorial, the fatal police-involved shooting of Klein, combined with the recent trend in robberies, demonstrated “just how bad the extent of the violence has become in our city”. He claimed that justice and civil liberties groups which condemned “a situation where they [police officers] were forced to shoot and kill a felon [like Paul Klein]” had further contributed to this public crisis, which was threatening to overcome the local community: It would be interesting to know how any of these people would react if they were face to face with a knife-wielding madman who had just torched a house and slashed himself… I do wonder how they would react if Paul Klein had lunged forward and plunged the knife into the heart of the nearest policeman. Probably not a murmur from them. (Cullen, 1998, p. 5)

Readers were encouraged to see Klein’s death as a straightforward case of ‘crime control’. Cullen argued: “Our police are up-front trying to stem this tide of violence with inadequate manpower. Almost daily they are put in life-threatening situations… They had no choice [but to shoot] at Berkeley on Tuesday night” (Cullen, 1998, p. 5). Cullen’s editorial attributed the root of the problem to the “lip service” authorities had paid to the adequacy of police resourcing in response to mental health crisis interventions since the “tragic shooting” of Roni Levi the previous year. “Both Police Minister Paul Whelan and Police Commissioner Peter Ryan”, he wrote, “have waxed lyrical about the urgency of giving police other methods and devices to deal with these siege type situations. What have they given the police? Absolutely nothing… Shame on the politicians (Cullen, 1998, p. 5). Cullen’s sympathetic view of frontline policing and its virtues may well have had something to do with the reciprocal nature of the close working relationships often developed between news media and police in smaller communities and regional areas. This is a proclivity endorsed by previous studies of police-media relations (see Barak, 1994; Chermak & Weiss, 2005; Ericson, 1995; Lawrence, 2000). Writes Hirschfield and Simon (2010): “Collegiality with and privileged access to police may foster identification with police values and obligations to carry out public relations

216

K. Clifford

functions on behalf of the police” (p. 158). But the acerbic writing style adopted by Cullen in his editorial of the Paul Klein incident was also characteristic of the newsroom culture at the Illawarra Mercury at that time. As one journalist described it, the editorial philosophy of the newspaper “in those days” had been to cultivate controversy and produce provocative news journalism: “Let’s be controversial and worry about a lawsuit later”. Cullen’s editorial about the Paul Klein incident became the catalyst for another series of ‘Letters to the Editor’, published in the Illawarra Mercury over the following week. These shifted the public discourse from one of moral judgement about the appropriateness of the newspaper’s early reporting of the fatal shooting to polarised debate about police performance and mental health crisis response. Of the five letters that were printed, two were strongly sympathetic towards the everincreasing risks of contemporary policing for frontline police officers. Both acknowledged the tragedy of the Paul Klein incident and the inherent difficulties of a police officer’s decision to discharge their firearm: If our society does not like the way the police service handles these lifethreatening situations with mentally ill—or dangerously overwrought— people then stop calling the police and call the mental health service instead. (Parker, 1998, p. 8)

In contrast, the other three letters to the editor, similarly concerned with police performance, criticised the actions of police officers in the Paul Klein incident, and the police discretion to use force more broadly: I thought police officers were supposed to be trained in some sort of selfdefence, and the use of batons, but obviously they’re only trained to shoot holes in things… From the footage seen on television of the Berkeley siege, it seemed to me that there were any number of ways to disarm the alleged offender without shooting him. (Dunreath-Cooper, 1998, p. 8)

5 Case Study: The Paul Klein Incident

217

Unsettling the ‘Dangerous Other’ News Frame The comments published in Cullen’s editorial were countered by only one other news item, published in the same edition of the newspaper, which attempted to “paint a picture of Paul [Klein] in complete contrast with the shocking images which came out of York St” (Carty, 1998c, p. 3). This news story more consistently reflected the guidance provided by organisations such as the Dart Center for Journalism & Trauma on the principles of ‘best practice’ reporting of traumatic incidents by featuring more of a focus on human life, including pertinent details that described Klein as he had lived, the use of images of his life, avoidance of unnecessary and gratuitous details about his death, and the inclusion of quotes and anecdotes from his relatives, friends and colleagues (see Hight & Smyth, 2004). In particular, the news report provided a counter-frame to prior news constructions of Klein as an ‘out of control’ and ‘dangerous other’ by reframing his subjectivity in terms of family memories and a more humanised portrait of a “nature-loving gentleman” and “active sportsman” (Carty, 1998c, p. 3). The news story did not necessarily seek to expunge the earlier news constructions of Klein and his mental illness in as much as it sought to depict another version of him, as emphasised in its lead paragraph: This is the Paul Klein his family remembers. Far from the image of the knife-wielding madman who slashed himself repeatedly before being shot dead by police… (Carty, 1998c, p. 3)

This news framing is consistent with broader trends identified in media coverage of fatal mental health crisis interventions, where a more humanised representation of the deceased is frequently adopted as the temporal distance of news reporting increases relative to the news event itself and its initial episodic press coverage. This also often coincides with the increased prominence of thematic news frames and the engagement of bereaved family and friends with news media. An exemplar of this, the Illawarra Mercury’s ‘counter’ news story was the first time that public comment from Klein’s family had been

218

K. Clifford

published since a brief three-sentence statement in the newspaper the day after the incident, appealing for a full investigation into the fatal shooting and for privacy from media intrusion while they “lay their beloved son to rest” (see ‘THE NIGHT TERROR CAME TO YORK ST: Family pleads for full inquiry’, 1998, p. 2). The earlier absence of family perspectives was acknowledged in the third paragraph of the news story where readers were told that Klein’s “devastated family members yesterday broke their silence” to pay tribute to “the CityRail guard who will live on in their memories as a much-loved family member” (Carty, 1998c, p. 3). These memories, as well as those of former colleagues, and additional details about his academic record and sporting achievements, served to humanise Paul Klein and to (re)define public recollections of him in terms broader than the graphic images of his death. The inclusion of family photographs as a visual frame to the news story depicting what Klein had looked like in life—one of him smiling, dressed in a tuxedo, and the other identifying him among a group of school friends— supported this. More importantly, these photographs reflected a literal attempt to reframe Klein’s subjectivity “in complete contrast to the image that has been portrayed” (Carty, 1998c, p. 3). The news headline—for the first time throughout the Illawarra Mercury’s coverage—also invited readers to identify with Klein as a ‘victim’ (see Carty, 1998c, p. 3). The only other news report to do so—describing him as a ‘tortured soul’ and “a virtuous man” (Jones cited in Carty, 1998d, p. 1)—followed several days later on 4 June 1998 as part of the newspaper’s coverage of Paul Klein’s funeral. Other than this, no newspapers devoted any significant space to feature stories and/or thoughtful commentaries on policing and mental illness in their early news reporting of the critical incident.

Media Temporality and the Changeability of News Frames Subsequent news reporting of the Paul Klein incident, particularly the Illawarra Mercury’s press coverage of the coronial inquest into his death, was less inflammatory and more measured in its constructions of ‘risk’ and ‘vulnerability’, and the media labels used to describe both Klein

5 Case Study: The Paul Klein Incident

219

and the police officers involved. This reporting coincided with a change in editorial leadership at the newspaper. News frames of the coronial inquest in the year after Klein’s death were obviously episodic by virtue of the event-driven nature of the coronial proceedings. However, the regional and metropolitan press constructed news frames that were also thematic insofar as they provided some context to the incident, particularly in relation to the issue of agency and the likelihood that Klein, while experiencing psychosis, “would not have understood what was going on” (Klein cited in Mardon, 1999a, p. 1). The more generic news frames of ‘conflict’ and ‘attribution of responsibility’ continued throughout this media coverage. However, in an interesting shift from previous reporting, these news frames became closely linked to the discourse of emotion, which was identifiable as an increasingly prominent news frame in its own right throughout press coverage of the coronial inquest into Klein’s death. A number of news reports featured extracts of the testimonies of witnesses at the coronial inquest, highlighting the ways in which affective discourse and personal trauma narratives are able to challenge the settled frameworks through which more ‘rational’ discourses, such as the law and criminal justice systems, come to reflect and act upon the world. These news reports also often featured photographs of witnesses on their way to or from the court. In a democratisation of the news construction of identifiable ‘victims’, police officers were rarely depicted in uniform (they wore plain clothes). These news frames also integrated, more seamlessly and sensitively, personal trauma narratives with social impact narratives. For example, a number of news stories about the coronial inquest emphasised the negative framing effects produced by certain mediated representations of fatal mental health crisis interventions: “…Mr Klein said he would never forget the graphic media images that followed the shooting. Those images, in particular, had put an enormous strain on the family, Mr Klein said” (Dennis, 1999, p. 5). As part of this press coverage, the Illawarra Mercury extensively detailed the more sensitive and affecting aspects of the coronial inquest. A news story, published in the 24 September 1999 edition of the newspaper, opened with the following observations:

220

K. Clifford

Sixteen months after two terrified police officers gunned Paul Klein down on a Berkeley street, the reverberations from the three bullets fired that night are still being felt… Experienced police called this week to give evidence at an inquiry into his death blanched at the suggestion they view the knives he was carrying. Others declined to look again at photographs taken that night. (Dennis, 1999, p. 5)

To emphasise the point, the Illawarra Mercury’s news story promoted an affect-driven interpretive news frame in relation to the testimonies tendered as coronial evidence, especially those of Paul Klein’s father and two of the police officers involved in the incident. News framing emphasised the traumatic impacts for frontline responders, particularly those involved in fatal mental health crisis interventions. It sought to (re)introduce an individualised and humanist discourse to news constructions of police subjectivities, which had previously been absent from the archetypal representations of police officers as either ‘protectors of society’ or ‘trigger happy cops’. Also identifiable within the Illawarra Mercury’s news coverage of the coronial inquest was a shift in news framing from that of ‘public crisis’ to a reconfiguration of the Paul Klein incident as a ‘public tragedy’. This was borne out by the newspaper’s reorientation of its reporting of the event from a preoccupation with the principal issues of responsibility and culpability (although, these remained evident in later press coverage) to the discourse of vulnerability and the idea that “[n]o-one who was there, it seems, was left unaffected” (Dennis, 1999, p. 5). This reorientation of the news media coverage resulted in a more equitable distribution of editorial space to the personal trauma narratives of the event’s key stakeholders. In keeping with this, the Illawarra Mercury’s news media coverage of the coronial inquest included more prominently the perspectives of Paul Klein’s family, as evidenced by a special frontpage news story on 18 September 1999 in the weekend edition of the newspaper, prior to the start of the coronial inquest. This special news report continued inside the newspaper as an extended series of smaller news stories under the section header, ‘The death of ‘Post’, a gentle giant’ (see Mardon, 1999a, 1999b, 1999c, 1999d). The news items sustained the more humanised (counter-)framing earlier constructed

5 Case Study: The Paul Klein Incident

221

about Klein, with a continued inclusion of family memories and tributes from former colleagues and sporting teammates. Klein’s disturbed behaviour on the night of his death was described as highly irregular: “The picture everyone saw of him when he was killed was nothing like him. It was a totally abnormal night in an otherwise normal life” (Klein cited in Mardon, 1999b, p. 4). However, in a deviation from earlier constructions of the ‘gentle giant’ news frame, the Illawarra Mercury’s special news report expanded its press coverage to thematically address the question of the reasonableness of the police use of force deployed on the night of Klein’s death. It framed these questions in the context of the family’s search for justice and as an opportunity to ‘set the record straight’ in relation to previous interpretations of the critical incident. In this respect, the special news report was geared towards not only a reframing of Paul Klein’s subjectivity, but also a reclamation of voice and agency by and on behalf of Klein’s family. The special feature included several photographs of the family, including Klein’s nieces and nephews, surrounded in some cases by his sporting trophies. In one image, Klein’s father was shown with the same photograph of his son, dressed in a tuxedo, which had featured in newspaper coverage the previous year on 30 May 1998. This particular image of Klein was reproduced three times throughout the special news report. In an erasure of the visual aide memoires of ‘madness’, there were no reproductions of the graphic images taken on the night of his death. Rather than continuing to promote a discourse of fear related to the existence of ‘dangerous others’ within the community, news frames suggested that Klein had been “just a normal person” (Klein cited in Mardon, 1999b, p. 4) who was admired by family and sporting friends, well regarded in the workplace, and not known to retaliate with violence to any provocations. These news frames sought to normalise the idea of mental illness by suggesting that mental health problems could indiscriminately affect anyone in the community.

222

K. Clifford

Conclusion By today’s standards, the early news reporting of the Paul Klein incident—while skirting within the bounds of the journalist code of ethics— would be considered highly problematic in terms of its invocation of such explicitly stigmatising language and the reinforcement of common stereotypes. Thankfully, as subsequent media monitoring projects have shown, the appearance of these outdated modes of expression has diminished within mental health-related news coverage in Australia (see Pirkis et al., 2008). Constructions of the ‘knife-wielding madman’ and out of control ‘monster’ strongly implied that Klein was an unpredictable ‘dangerous other’ who was beyond treatment and the management of his mental health problems. This perpetuated an association of mental illness with a propensity for violence with far-reaching consequences, not least of all the secondary trauma it generated for Klein’s bereaved family and friends. These stereotypical representations run counter to the contemporary reporting guidelines that have since been developed for communicating about mental ill-health in news media. They fall short of the guidelines’ recommendations that media professionals consider the broader context of mental illness and safely and accurately report mental health-related issues to improve public understandings and community attitudes towards mental illness, and encourage help-seeking among those experiencing mental health problems (see Everymind, 2020). For the most part, the news media coverage of Klein’s death did the opposite of this. But the reporting guidelines themselves, while developed with the best of intentions, do not necessarily fit seamlessly with the ambiguities inherent to fatal mental health crisis interventions. They are not an unfailing safeguard in this respect against repetition of some of the more problematic elements of the reporting witnessed in relation to the Paul Klein incident (hence, their very existence). For one, the guidelines emphasise the right to privacy as a fundamental tenet of journalistic ethics and caution against disclosing mental illness in news stories where doing so may have consequences for a person’s health and well-being. This presumes that portrayals of mental ill-health within news will relate to living people, not necessarily those killed in police operations,

5 Case Study: The Paul Klein Incident

223

where an individual is unable to ‘speak back’ to these mediated representations which—as the Paul Klein incident and several of the other cases highlighted in this study show—will often misconstrue the terrible circumstances of a person’s death as having some bearing on the nature of the life they lived. We might cast our minds back, for example, to the reflections of Courtney Topic’s brother, cited in the opening chapter of this book. In this way, the guidelines for communicating about mental ill-health do not adequately account for strategies to deal with the everincreasing mediated visibility of these news events and the way in which fatal encounters between police and mentally ill individuals in crisis, when captured on film or as photographs, can reflect considerable news value at the same time as they arguably represent an incursion into one of a person’s most private moments—i.e. their death—producing what are not always favourable images of mental illness, let alone policing. The ethical complications that controversial deaths of (or even by) mentally ill individuals in crisis raise in relation to issues such as the disclosure of mental illness therefore have broader, albeit often unacknowledged, implications for the development of contemporary reporting guidelines and supporting professional resources, and the commonly accepted attributes of ‘best practice’ trauma-informed journalism and socially responsible news reporting. There are obviously various ways in which a single news event or issue can be framed, depending on the discretionary media practices and editorial decision-making of those within the newsroom (Rossall, 2011). These framing practices reflect “what is deemed significant or newsworthy, the constraints imposed on newsroom work and routines” and the “cultural assumptions” that editors and journalists make about their audiences (Blood & Holland, 2004, p. 325). This chapter’s framing analysis of the press coverage of the fatal police shooting of Paul Klein also highlights how closely connected patterns of news framing can be to source selection and the agenda-setting power of those who serve as primary definers of news stories about controversial events. Given that news media coverage is sometimes the only way in which publics come to know about these critical incidents, it is important to understand the practices, and constraints, that inform and shape these news products— just as it is important to consider the differences that a contextualisation

224

K. Clifford

of mediated meaning-making about policing and mental illness might have in comparison with the normative repetition of archetypical news frames. The ‘outsourcing’ of these expressions to sources as primary definers of the news agenda does not absolve journalists of their participation in these framing practices nor their responsibility for storytelling which “calls attention to larger social problems by eliciting emotional reactions in the audience and thereby securing their involvement” (Wahl-Jorgensen, 2013, p. 132). As Donovan and boyd (2021) point out, through “omission, managing voices, and choosing between different public agendas”, journalists employ silence as much as they do voice and visibility in their craft, although “they rarely acknowledge it” and may even “recoil at the accusation” (p. 335). But, in the context of fatal mental health crisis interventions, we must also consider the ways in which the institutional norms within other professional fields of practice—for example, the law and policing itself—can further exacerbate the (re)production of these silences, including in news media, and the possible harms that this can potentially generate as a result.

References A Current Affair. (1999, September 30). [Television broadcast]. Sydney, NSW: Channel Nine. Agnew-Ryan, D. (1998, June 2). Blood-stained body ‘blasted across page’. [Letter to the Editor]. Illawarra Mercury, p. 10. Allan, S. (2013). Citizen witnessing. Cambridge: Polity Press. Amherst Community Television. (2010, March 30). CSSC encounters: Barbie Zelizer [Vodcast]. Amherst, MA: Amherst Community Television. Streamed online April 29, 2010, from http://204.213.244.104/Cablecast/Public/ Show.aspx?ChannelID=1&ShowID=5589. Barak, G. (1994). Between the waves: Mass mediated themes of crime and justice. Social Justice, 21(3), 133–147. Barthes, R. (1982). Camera lucida: Reflections on photography. New York: Hill & Wang. Berger, J. (1980). On looking. New York: First Vintage International.

5 Case Study: The Paul Klein Incident

225

Biber, K. (2019). In crime’s archive: The cultural afterlife of evidence. Abingdon, Oxon and New York, NY: Routledge. Blood, W., & Holland, K. (2004). Risky news, madness and public crisis: A case study of the reporting and portrayal of mental health and illness in the Australian press. Journalism, 5 (3), 323–342. Brown, J. E. (1987). News photographs and the pornography of grief. Journal of Mass Media Ethics, 2(2), 75–81. Burgin, V. (1982). Thinking photography. London: Macmillan. Butler, J. (2009). Frames of war: When is life grievable? London: Verso. Carr, D. (2014, July 27). At front lines, bearing witness in real time. The New York Times. Retrieved July 30, 2014, from https://www.nytimes.com/ 2014/07/28/business/media/at-front-lines-bearing-witness-in-real-time. html?_r=0. Carty, L. (1998a, May 28). THE NIGHT TERROR CAME TO YORK ST: Victim’s mother cries out for neighbour’s help: ‘It’s Paul, he’s got a knife’. Illawarra Mercury, p. 2. Carty, L. (1998b, May 28). THE NIGHT TERROR CAME TO YORK ST: Serenity shattered. Illawarra Mercury, p. 3. Carty, L. (1998c, May 30). Gun death family’s grief: Shooting victim ‘gentle and loving’. Illawarra Mercury, p. 3. Carty, L. (1998d, June 4). Berkeley tragedy aftermath: Priest attacks police shooting. Illawarra Mercury, p. 1. Chermak, S. M., & Weiss, A. (2005). Maintaining legitimacy using external communication strategies: An analysis of police-media relations. Journal of Criminal Justice, 33(5), 501–512. ‘Citizen Cullen’. (1998, September 3). Australian Story [Television broadcast]. Sydney, NSW: Australian Broadcasting Corporation. Retrieved April 7, 2011, from http://www.abc.net.au/austory/series3/9830.htm. Clifford, K., & White, R. (2017). Media and crime: Content, context and consequence. South Melbourne: Oxford University Press. Clifford, K., & White, R. (2020). Mediated representations of prisoner experience and public empathy. In M. Harmes, M. Harmes, & B. Harmes (Eds.), The Palgrave handbook of incarceration in popular culture (pp. 265–287). Cham, Switzerland: Palgrave Macmillan. Coleman, R. (2010). Framing the pictures in our heads: Exploring the framing and agenda-setting effects of visual images. In P. D’Angelo & J. A. Kuypers (Eds.), Doing news framing analysis: Empirical and theoretical perspectives (pp. 233–261). New York: Routledge.

226

K. Clifford

Commonwealth Department of Health and Family Services. (1998). Final report of the mental health crisis intervention ad hoc advisory group: An examination of mental health crisis intervention practices and policies regarding the fatal use of firearms by police against people with mental illness [Whiteford Report]. Canberra, ACT: Commonwealth of Australia. Connolly, E. (1999a, September 22). Fatal two minutes for an angry man. The Sydney Morning Herald , p. 7. Connolly, E. (1999b, September 25). Stopping someone dead. The Sydney Morning Herald , p. 40. Connolly, E. (1999c, December 21). Police should be tried for murder: Lawyer. The Sydney Morning Herald , p. 5. ‘COUNTDOWN TO TRAGEDY: The night terror came to a ‘perfect’ Berkeley street’. (1998, May 28). Illawarra Mercury, p. 1. Cullen, P. (1998, May 30). When police shoot to kill… They’re damned if they do—And dead if they don’t. Illawarra Mercury, p. 5. Dalton, V. (1998). Police shootings 1990–1997 . Trends and Issues in Crime and Criminal Justice, No. 89. Canberra, ACT: Australian Institute of Criminology. Dennis, J. (1999, September 24). Klein’s death took toll on family, police: Witnesses traumatised by violent images, inquest told. Illawarra Mercury, p. 5. Dixon, R. (1998, May 30). Capsicum spray still a hot issue. The Sydney Morning Herald , p. 44. Donovan, J., & boyd, d. (2021). Stop the presses? Moving from strategic silence to strategic amplification in a networked media ecosystem. American Behavioral Scientist, 65 (2), 333–350. Dunreath-Cooper, A. (1998, June 6). Why must police shoot to kill? [Letter to the Editor]. Illawarra Mercury, p. 8. Elliott, T. (2014, July 26). ‘Reality of war’ laid bare in publication of graphic images of MH17, Gaza dead. The Sydney Morning Herald . Retrieved July 30, 2014, from https://www.smh.com.au/world/reality-of-war-laid-bare-inpublication-of-graphic-images-of-mh17-gaza-dead-20140725-zwow4.html. Ericson, R. V. (1995). The news media and account ability in criminal justice. In P. C. Stenning (Ed.), Accountability for criminal justice (pp. 135–161). Toronto: University of Toronto Press. Everymind. (2020). Communicating about a person with mental ill-health [Webpage]. Retrieved January 29, 2020, from https://mindframe.org.au/ mental-health/communicating-about-mental-ill-health/mindframe-guidel ines/communicating-about-a-persona-with-mental-ill-health.

5 Case Study: The Paul Klein Incident

227

Godlasky, A. (2020, January 22). What could trauma-informed journalism look like? NiemanReports. Cambridge, MA: Nieman Foundation for Journalism at Harvard. Retrieved February 12, 2020, from https://niemanrep orts.org/articles/what-could-trauma-informed-journalism-look-like/. Gutsche, R. E., & Salkin, E. R. (2013). ‘It’s better than blaming a dead young man’: Creating mythical archetypes in local coverage of the Mississippi River drownings. Journalism: Theory, Practice, and Criticism, 14 (1), 61–77. Hall, S. (1981). The determination of news photographs. In S. Cohen & J. Young (Eds.), The manufacture of news: Social problems, deviance and the mass media (Revised ed.) (pp. 226–243). London: Sage. Hight, J., & Smyth, F. (2004). Tragedies & journalists: A guide for more effective coverage. Seattle, WA: Dart Center for Journalism & Trauma. Hirschfield, P. J., & Simon, D. (2010). Legitimating police violence: Newspaper narratives of deadly force. Theoretical Criminology, 14 (2), 155–182. Inquest into the Death of Paul Simon Klein. (1999, December 21). NSW State Coroner’s Court, Wollongong. Iyengar, S. (1991). Is anyone responsible? How television frames political issues. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Jamieson, T. (1998, May 28). The quiet man who lost control. The Sydney Morning Herald , p. 5. Jamieson, T., Kennedy, L., & Murphy, D. (1998, May 28). Officers had ‘no option but to shoot’. The Sydney Morning Herald , p. 5. Kawamoto, K. (2005). Best practices in trauma reporting: Ideas and insights from award-winning newspaper articles. Seattle, WA: Dart Center for Journalism & Trauma. Keeble, T. (1998, May 27). SHOT DEAD: Police gun down Berkeley man. Illawarra Mercury, p. 1. Kesic, D., Ducat, L. V., & Thomas, S. D. M. (2011). Using force: Australian newspaper depictions of contacts between the police and persons experiencing mental illness. Australian Psychologist, 47 (4), 213–223. Kitzinger, J., & Reilly, J. (1997). The rise and fall of risk reporting: Media coverage of human genetics research, ‘false memory syndrome’ and mad cow disease. European Journal of Communication, 12(3), 319–350. Lawrence, R. G. (2000). The politics of force: Media and the construction of police brutality. Berkeley and Los Angeles, CA: University of California Press. Mardon, C. (1999a, September 18). Why did our son have to die? Parents want some answers from coroner, Berkeley shooting aftermath. Illawarra Mercury, p. 1.

228

K. Clifford

Mardon, C. (1999b, September 18). The death of ‘post’, a gentle giant: Family hopes inquiry will reveal the truth. Illawarra Mercury, p. 4. Mardon, C. (1999c, September 18). The death of ‘post’, a gentle giant: Pretty slick for a big fellow. Illawarra Mercury, p. 5. Mardon, C. (1999d, September 18). The death of ‘post’, a gentle giant: Police ‘got it wrong’. Illawarra Mercury, p. 5. McCulloch, J. (2001). Blue army: Paramilitary policing in Australia. Melbourne, VIC: Melbourne University Press. MEAA. (2020). MEAA journalist code of ethics [Webpage]. Retrieved August 10, 2020, from https://www.meaa.org/meaa-media/code-of-ethics/. Messaris, P., & Abraham, L. (2003). The role of images in framing news stories. In S. D. Reese, O. H. Gandy, & A. E. Grant (Eds.), Framing public life: Perspectives on media and our understanding of the social world (pp. 215– 226). Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates. Palmer, R. (2018). Becoming the news: How ordinary people respond to the media spotlight. New York: Columbia University Press. Parker, A. (1998, July 4). Police are just doing their job [Letter to the Editor]. Illawarra Mercury, p. 8. Phillips, D. (1998, June 2). Close-up picture an appalling ad for violence [Letter to the Editor]. Illawarra Mercury, p. 10. Pirkis, J., Blood, R. W., Dare, A., & Holland, K. (2008). The media monitoring project changes in media reporting of suicide and mental health and illness in Australia: 2000/01–2006/07 . Canberra, ACT: Commonwealth of Australia. Posetti, J. (2014, July 29). Is social media to blame for the increasingly graphic images in our newspapers? World News Publishing Focus [Blog post]. Paris: WAN-IFRA. Retrieved July 30, 2014, from https://blog.wan-ifra.org/2014/ 07/29/is-social-media-to-blame-for-the-increasingly-graphic-images-in-ournewspapers. Rossall, P. (2011). News media representations of homelessness: Do economic news production pressures prevent journalists from adequately reporting complex social issues. eJournalist, 11(2), 95–124. Sánchez Laws, A. L., & Utne, T. (2019, April 24). Ethics guidelines for immersive journalism. Frontiers in Robotics and AI, 6 (28). https://doi.org/10.3389/ frobt.2019.00028. Schwalbe, C. B. (2006). Remembering our shared past: Visually framing the Iraq war on U.S. news websites. Journal of Computer-Mediated Communication, 12(1), 264–289.

5 Case Study: The Paul Klein Incident

229

Semetko, H. A., & Valkenburg, P. M. (2000). Framing European politics: A content analysis of press and television news. Journal of Communication, 50 (2), 93–109. Sieff, E. (2003). Media frames of mental illnesses: The potential impact of negative frames. Journal of Mental Health, 12(3), 259–269. Sontag, S. (1977). On photography. New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux. Tagg, J. (1988). The burden of representation: Essays on photographies and histories. Basingstoke, UK: Macmillan Education. ‘THE NIGHT TERROR CAME TO YORK ST: Cops are ‘gung-ho”. (1998, May 28). Illawarra Mercury, p. 2. ‘THE NIGHT TERROR CAME TO YORK ST: Family pleads for full inquiry’. (1998, May 28). Illawarra Mercury, p. 2. ‘THE NIGHT TERROR CAME TO YORK ST: Minister defends police shooting’. (1998, May 28). Illawarra Mercury, p. 2. ‘THE NIGHT TERROR CAME TO YORK ST: Police had to shoot to kill: Union’. (1998, May 28). Illawarra Mercury, p. 3. Wahl-Jorgensen, K. (2013). The strategic ritual of emotionality: A case study of Pulitzer-prize winning articles. Journalism, 14 (1), 129–145. Weber, M. (1919). Politics as a vocation. In D. Owen & T. B. Strong (Eds.), The SAGE handbook of digital journalism (pp. 32–94). Trans. by R. Livingstone. Indianapolis, IN: Hackett. Wischmann, L. (1987). Dying on the front page: Kent state and the Pulitzer Prize. Journal of Mass Media Ethics, 2(2), 67–74. Zelizer, B. (2002). Photography, journalism and trauma. In B. Zelizer & S. Allan (Eds.), Journalism after september 11 (pp. 48–68). London and New York: Routledge. Zelizer, B. (2005). Journalism through the camera’s eye. In S. Allan (Ed.), Journalism: Critical issues (pp. 167–176). Berkshire: Open University Press. Zelizer, B. (2010). About to die: How news images move the public. New York: Oxford University Press. Zelizer, B. (2017). What journalism could be. Cambridge, UK: Polity Press.

6 Framing Effects and Changing Media Practices

It is difficult for others without direct experience of tragedies such as fatal mental health crisis interventions to truly understand or appreciate the magnitude of the trauma endured by those individuals involved in and impacted by them. Traumatised people, as Tumarkin (2005) observes, are constantly haunted; they have to “live with the past that refuses to go away” (p. 12). The act of ‘bearing witness’ is therefore a fraught one that attempts to “represent trauma and atrocity through words and images that always function reductively” (Tait, 2011, p. 1222). It is hard—as many of the cases in this study have shown—to do adequate justice to the representation of this trauma and its implications, which may be more far-reaching than one might at first anticipate. Several of the police officers involved in the fatal shooting of Paul Klein, for example, either subsequently sought medical discharge or early retirement from the NSW Police Service. Others returned to service only after an extensive period of personal leave; an altogether familiar experience in these cases. Of course, the negative impacts on Paul Klein’s family were as severe, if not more pronounced. Several family members went through psychological, emotional and financial distress as a result of the critical © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 K. Clifford, Policing, Mental Illness and Media, Palgrave Studies in Crime, Media and Culture, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-61490-4_6

231

232

K. Clifford

incident, its subsequent legal proceedings, and the news media’s intrusions on the family’s grief in the aftermath of the fatal shooting. These are experiences families are often forced to revisit on the anniversary of the death as well as other occasions, such as family celebrations, when the absence of their loved one is most palpable. News reports of subsequent fatal mental health crisis interventions can also serve as painful reminders of this loss. The commercial imperatives of news media organisations, combined with more recent advances in mobile media and digital technologies, have increased the pressure on news media professionals to “report events quickly and, due to the very nature of competition, with increasing intimacy” (McLellan, 1999, p. 59). “For those outside the media”, writes McLellan (1999), “it is often difficult to understand that journalists face enormous challenges to achieve accurate reports within relentless deadlines” (p. 60). For individuals impacted by traumatic events, these constraints serve as little excuse for news media coverage that exploits the vulnerabilities of its subjects. Structural changes in the media landscape, including increasing competition from social media platforms, have therefore led to a situation where the “topicality and urgency of the question of ‘social responsibility’ of the media is growing” (Bardoel & d’Haenens, 2004, p. 22). Inherent within this paradigm is a call for increased media sensitivity and reflexivity; “attention to the details of one’s own life and the lives of those with whom one comes in contact” (May, 1996, p. 92). There is now an even stronger impetus to ask how much of the rush to cover news events is healthy—for news media audiences and practitioners alike—and at what point does “the focus on increasingly graphic details move the media from covering an event to intruding upon the vulnerable, those people affected by that event?” (McLellan, 1999, p. 59). The significance of these questions, and the advocacy for responsible and respectful reporting of traumatic events and traumatised subjects, is made all the more apparent by ‘media effects’ research, which has shown that there may be “unseen and ongoing impacts on victims, survivors, families, friends and communities of such media coverage” (McLellan, 1999, p. 59). While journalists often regard their work as ‘here today, gone tomorrow’, it has been shown that many individuals directly affected by a

6 Framing Effects and Changing Media Practices

233

traumatic event will “often closely and repeatedly examine media reports to help them construct meaning, i.e., both a broad chronology of what happened and, if possible, why it happened” (McLellan, 1999, p. 59). It is precisely this ‘context’ that is sought in the turn towards news media texts as a means of understanding fatal mental health crisis interventions, despite the fact that this reporting often presents a de-contextualised view of these events. Critique of this use of the media to construct meaning is important because, as McLellan (1999) explains, “victims and experts [have] noted that individual news reports or images” can be “triggers for distressing responses” (p. 59). In such circumstances, individuals associated with these critical incidents may (as media consumers) actively resist and contest the news frames constructed in relation to the event, but still (as news subjects) experience harmful secondary framing effects (e.g. vicarious traumatisation or a sense of secondary victimisation) as a direct result of their exposure to this media content and the experience of being the subject of news media coverage. As one of the police officers involved in the Paul Klein incident told me: …I could see myself, at some point in the future, having to do exactly the same thing as I did that night, and then I could see the headlines saying, ‘trigger happy cop kills another one’, or something like that. And I thought, I can handle that, but I see no reason why my family should be subjected to that.

Reflections such as these raise a series of important questions about where the responsibility lies for the risk mitigation of potentially harmful news frames and negative framing effects. As the Media, Entertainment & Arts Alliance Journalist Code of Ethics points out, journalists “scrutinise power, but also exercise it, and should be responsible and accountable” (MEAA, 2020). Bad news is necessary, especially where it alerts publics to potential threats and social injustices, but what about when it comes at a cost? Who should news media professionals be responsible to and for? How should ‘private interest’ be balanced against ‘public interest’ and the right to information—a fundamental principle of journalism—where publication or broadcast may result in

234

K. Clifford

harms to news subjects or media audiences? To what extent should these parameters be negotiated and redrawn on a continuing basis? Many of these questions go straight to the heart of critical discussions about media ethics and news literacy and calls for the production of more constructive journalism that “assists empathy and understanding” and highlights, as much as possible, potential solutions to problems and successes rather than the perpetual reporting of negative and conflictbased stories about “what has gone wrong” (Taylor, 2020, p. 17). This is a form of journalism that requires a more careful and socially responsible approach to the construction of news, which in turn provides a more comprehensive portrayal of the issues at hand and may even inspire greater acceptance of opposing views and the potential for compromise and collaborative solutions out of conflict (see Gyldensted, 2014; Haagerup, 2017). Constructive journalism, in other words, requires news media professionals “to take a more active, participatory approach” to their practices, while holding true to journalism’s core functions (McIntyre & Gyldensted, 2018, p. 22). More than this, “reflexivity of all parties to the media process” is required, “not only media professionals” (Couldry, 2006, p. 136). To put it another way: “In short, journalistic ethics codes cannot operate today as if they are separate from the ethics practiced by those beyond journalism” (Zelizer, 2017, p. 101). This has become increasingly important in the context of technological changes associated with the digital age, including the rise of user-generated content and social networking platforms, which “have ushered in a greater role for ‘ordinary people’ in news production and participation” (Wahl-Jorgensen, 2019a). The argument carries additional weight in the context of fatal mental health crisis interventions where the reliance on news texts as evidentiary sources of sense and meaningmaking in the aftermath of these traumatic events is not always restricted to the relationship between news text and media consumer. The interpretation of these media texts can, and often does, extend to and can be reconfigured by constructions of meaning within other institutional contexts, such as the courtroom and legal discourse. This was made apparent in the Paul Klein incident where the news media coverage of the event was reframed as coronial evidence as part of the investigation into Klein’s death.

6 Framing Effects and Changing Media Practices

235

Shifting Truth-Claims of News Visuals Across Institutional Domains Such was its prominence that a copy of the WIN Television footage of the fatal shooting was played to the court on the opening day of the coronial inquest. Members of the Klein family and several of the police officers involved in the critical incident refused to watch, leaving the courtroom in anticipation of its disturbing content. Throughout the proceedings, the footage was referred to as incontrovertible evidence of the circumstances surrounding Klein’s death. It was, as the cameraman who shot the footage described it, the “most independent witness” (East cited in Connolly, 1999d, p. 21). Despite this characterisation, this same footage was repeatedly reframed and reinterpreted in ways that served to support various stakeholder interpretations and legal narratives, including what were diametrically opposed views about the ‘reasonableness’ of the lethal force used by police; unsettling the proposition that visual artefacts of this kind embody an irrefutable verisimilitude or singular ‘truth’ about the events they depict. For the family, the video stood as incontestable evidence of police negligence and the ineffectiveness of frontline officers to de-escalate and resolve the situation using non-lethal means. For police, the footage provided evidence of the volatility of the situation and the ‘danger’ Klein presented to police officers and the public. It also served, according to one of the police officers, to exonerate the police of claims of professional misconduct: …that was our saving grace… we had this footage of the incident, which vindicated all the police that were there… so I’m glad that he [the cameraman] got the footage, not necessarily glad that it went all over the news…

But the images did not just appear and reappear incessantly as enduring news frames throughout the local media’s coverage of the fatal shooting and as evidence in the coronial inquest into Klein’s death. As is often the case with indelible news photographs and video evidence of this kind—particularly that relating to public deaths—the news visuals of the Paul Klein incident were re-appropriated, re-contextualised and

236

K. Clifford

replayed across multiple other contexts. Not only was the footage used as a teaching resource for police recruits, it was also adopted as a case study in the training of mental health and psychiatric nurses and by journalists in seminars about news media production. It further featured as part of a promotional package for one of the local television station’s nightly news broadcasts—in spite of the Klein family’s objections to the repurposing of these images, without their prior consultation or consent. Bruce Shapiro, an award-winning journalist and the executive director of the Dart Center for Journalism & Trauma, recounts a similar experience of having his own image re-appropriated without his consent after he and six others were stabbed in a New Haven coffee house in the United States in August 1994 by a man experiencing a psychotic episode. As Connecticut debated a new tough-on-crime bill that would see, among the reforms, criminals locked up for longer—something Shapiro did not support—he found himself cast as “a silent poster child” for the legislation when a local television station chose to illustrate the news story by running footage of Shapiro being wheeled into an ambulance after the stabbing several months earlier (Shapiro, 1995, p. 445). “I felt that my image had been stolen and that my experience was being exploited politically”, says Shapiro. “It’s one of those second wounds that makes you feel betrayed all over again after a traumatic event” (Shapiro cited in CBC Radio, 2019). Academic John Tulloch expressed similar sentiments after an image of him, bloodied and bandaged at Edgware Road Tube station immediately after the terrorist attacks on the London Underground on 7 July 2005, was published on the front page of The Sun newspaper in the United Kingdom accompanied by the words, ‘Tell Tony he’s right’, in support of then-British Prime Minister Tony Blair’s anti-terror legislation. This was despite Tulloch’s own personal rejection of the legislation (see Tulloch, 2008). Underscoring the power of news visuals and their potential framing effects, the NSW Deputy State Coroner Jan Stevenson described the news footage of the Paul Klein incident as “so graphic it would make anyone with an ounce of humanity say what is depicted is totally unacceptable, and an outrage in a civilised society” (Inquest into the death of Paul Simon Klein, 1999, p. 4). She said that, when viewed in isolation to the other evidence tendered at inquest (such as records of interview

6 Framing Effects and Changing Media Practices

237

and the testimonies of police officers), the “horrific nature” of the video evidence had been so persuasive as to encourage her to consider termination of the matter for referral to the DPP. Stevenson maintained that, in light of its harmful content, the “continual airing of the film” had undoubtedly impacted negatively on the health and well-being of not only Paul Klein’s family, but also the police officers involved in the critical incident. These traumatic effects, she argued, may have been remediated by the use of still photographs, which she claimed would have been “more appropriate in television coverage” than the “continual playing of the tape which caused such distress to the Klein family, and indeed to officers” (Stevenson cited in Inquest into the death of Paul Simon Klein, 1999, p. 8). But as Biber (2019) rightfully points out: Colour or black-and-white; silent or with sound; moving or still; real or simulated; live or mediated: there are no processes for sorting the relative probative and persuasive impacts of these different visual formats. (p. 16)

In the case of the Paul Klein incident, the coronial inquest itself had functioned as a catalyst for the widened and repeated circulation of these sensitive media materials, by virtue of their reframing as coronial evidence. This point was not lost on those immediately impacted by the situation. As one police officer told me some years later: …[the coronial inquest] opened some wounds again, so it’s like a year later; it’s splashed all over the news again, it’s in the [news]papers. You’ve got to be there, you’ve got to confront the family… I felt sorry for them, but there was some criticism from the family about the police part… It was more, down the track, when I’m trying to run away from it, and suppress this bad thing that’s happened in my life, and it just… it just keeps popping up, so it has that impact on you; I didn’t really want to see that [media coverage of the incident]. And, years later, there it is. You’re sitting down watching the news and there’s a video; there it is again.

The Coroners Act , which was current at the time of the coronial inquest into Klein’s death, has since been amended to reflect the emergent influence of the Internet and social media as mediums for and sources of news media coverage and the publication of information to

238

K. Clifford

publics. However, the revised Act does not deviate substantially from its predecessor with regard to the powers of the Coroner to prevent the publication of evidence where doing so might be regarded as being in the ‘public interest’ or in the interests of the personal security of any person (Section 74, Coroners Act 2009 ). A request for a suppression order in relation to the news media coverage of the Paul Klein incident—in particular, the video footage—had earlier been made by police in the hours after the fatal shooting, but had been denied by the NSW State Coroner, Derrick Hand. As Biber (2019) explains, “only very limited circumstances justify a suppression or non-publication order” (p. 66) and only where a proper basis can be clearly established. These days, such concerns seem somewhat antediluvian in the light of the mediated visibility of policing and the rate at which visual evidence from legal and coronial proceedings is made available to media by the courts in the interests of ‘open justice’ (see Biber, 2014). With regularity, critical incidents of this kind are narrated through visual means, often published by media outlets with the sanction of the courts—be it, as more recent fatal mental health crisis interventions in Australia have shown, as images from CCTV surveillance systems (Elijah Holcombe), Taser cam footage (Roberto Laudisio Curti), police walk-through interview videos (Adam Salter), bystander smartphone videos (Courtney Topic) or a combination of the above (Stephen Hodge). Sometimes, this occurs in contexts that do not even require legal sanction. Rarely does this footage show police in a positive light. If anything, it often demonstrates how quickly police-involved mental health crisis interventions can deteriorate into tragic outcomes. It does not bear to think what the media exposure may have been like had the Paul Klein incident occurred in a more contemporary setting, aided by the widespread availability and use of camera-enabled smartphones and other mobile devices.

6 Framing Effects and Changing Media Practices

239

Legal Scrutiny of Police Duty of Care and Traumatic News Effects As it was, the trauma engendered by the graphic and repetitive nature of the news media coverage of the Paul Klein incident—print and broadcast media combined—was such that the Klein family initiated an unsuccessful claim for aggravated damages against the state of NSW. The claim pointed to a number of alleged police failings on the night, including the argument that police had breached their ‘duty of care’ by failing to establish a perimeter around the scene to exclude non-essential personnel, and that the distress caused by repeated media interest and re-use of the video footage and news photographs from the incident—captured as a result of unimpeded access to the scene—had caused nervous shock for some family members. No specific media organisation was named as a respondent in the case. In 2006, the civil action was dismissed in the NSW Court of Appeal on the grounds that police ‘duty of care’ towards the family members named in the civil action could not be established. As Chappell and Graham (1985) point out, when critical incidents involving the police use of lethal force come under judicial review, they usually do so “in civil rather than criminal courts” (p. 71). By and large, the onus falls on plaintiffs to prove the unlawfulness of police behaviour (Freckelton, 1996). The reality, writes Freckelton (1996), “is that people suing police generally start from a profoundly disempowered position” (p. 177) and face considerable difficulties in proving that a ‘duty of care’ was owed by police officers. Establishing a ‘duty of care’ is necessary, however, if harm caused to the plaintiff by the negligence of police actions is to have some redress (Shircore, 2006). Whether or not negligence occurred is determined by the reasonableness of police actions, which is—as we have already established—often differently defined by police policies and legal standards compared to community expectations. Duty of care cases relating to fatal mental health crisis interventions therefore go to the heart of the question of whether (and how well) police have adhered to police protocols and SOPs rather than whether they have been adequately trained to deal with encounters with mentally disturbed individuals in the community or—as families would perceive it—questions of fairness and justice.

240

K. Clifford

In Australia, only a small proportion of critical incidents involving police use of force have reached the courtroom (see, e.g., those detailed by McCulloch & Palmer, 2005). Most cases are deemed ‘justifiable shootings’ at coronial inquest (Doherty & Bricknell, 2020). The use of force by police officers is often socially accepted, provided “its exercise appears to be legitimate” (Baker, 2016, p. 25). But the consistency with which police remain unprosecuted for their actions during a mental health crisis intervention—even after what appear to be undeniable cases of misconduct, be it the misuse of force or improprieties in the investigation afterwards—has produced a deep cynicism among publics towards the legitimacy of police (Baker, 2016). Those cases that have made it before the courts have rarely resulted in prosecutions, although this is not to say that civil actions, as an alternative to criminal convictions, are ineffective catalysts for “facilitating the accountability of police to the community” (Freckelton, 1996, p. 173). These types of legal proceedings, and the public profile they can raise around the event through news media coverage of the court case, can sometimes seem like the only opportunity for fair hearing and restitution for bereaved family members. This is especially the case, one imagines, where the “long-running pursuit of the truth” (Visentin, 2016) has otherwise felt like an exercise in futility. One of the notable exceptions in terms of plaintiff success in Australia is the case of Zalewski v Turcarolo in which A$116,400 of ordinary damages were awarded to Pino Turcarolo, a then-22-year-old mentally ill man with paranoid schizophrenia, who was shot by police in October 1985 in Pascoe Vale, Victoria. Turcarolo was confronted by police while sitting on the floor of his bedroom in possession of a shotgun. In a disturbing parallel to the Paul Klein incident and others, it was a member of Turcarolo’s family who had called police, anticipating that they would be able to persuade Turcarolo to disarm himself as they had done when he had previously armed himself with a knife. A Supreme Court jury found the actions of Sergeant Anthony Zalewski were negligent in that “he should have realised that by entering the bedroom the armed man may have reacted in a way that meant police had to shoot in self-defence” (Silvester, 1994, p. 1). Zalewski was held to have acted impetuously, without proper reflection or regard for standard police procedures. The court’s decision in the case represented an example of “a higher than

6 Framing Effects and Changing Media Practices

241

normal award of damages” (Freckleton, 1996, p. 175)—although, this is now less definitive in view of more recent cases such as the fatal police shootings of mentally ill men, Adam Salter and Elijah Holcombe, where the settlement amount has not been publicly disclosed. (For more information on the Turcarolo case, see Freckleton, 1996; Hamdorf et al., 1998; Zalewski and Anor v. Turcarolo [1995] VicRp 76; [1995] 2 VR 562 (1 July 1994)). The judgements of subsequent civil actions, including New South Wales v Klein, dismissed the Turcarolo case as being of limited precedent value. One judgement concluded that “reconsideration of Zalewski should lead to the conclusion that no duty of care exists towards third parties by police performing operational duties save in all but the most exceptional cases” (Redlich JA cited in State of Victoria & Ors v Richards [2010] VSCA113, par. 26). It is easy to see why such findings could prove inexplicable to families who call the police for care and comfort of their loved one only to find themselves mourning them, without a proper sense of recourse or apology on the part of police. As Goldsworthy (2014) points out, although the police shooting of a citizen may be classified a ‘justifiable homicide’, this does not mean it was not an avoidable homicide. This makes wrongful death lawsuits “a key, if flawed, avenue for relief ” for shooting victims and their families, where such cases result in a settlement (Lockhart, 2018). As The New York Times notes, however, the “vast majority of families who lose someone in a questionable police shooting get nothing” (Williams & Smith, 2018). Even those who do can still have the award of damages rescinded later. In May 2011, the Australian Capital Territory (ACT) Supreme Court held police liable of negligence in a civil suit brought by Jonathan Crowley, who had been shot in the neck in a suburban street in Canberra over 10 years earlier, in December 2001, after wielding a kendo stick at police while in the grips of a psychotic episode. The shooting occurred 42 seconds after police had located Crowley and failed in their attempts to disarm him with the use of capsicum spray. The bullet fired at Crowley managed to do significant damage, fracturing his spine and rendering him quadriplegic. The evening before the incident, an ACT Mental Health psychologist had recommended that Crowley be admitted to hospital for assessment, most likely on a non-voluntary basis. “Similar

242

K. Clifford

to the Zalewski case”, writes Shircore (2012), “the police negligence was found to consist of inadequate preparation and failure to follow appropriate training and procedure in dealing with the mentally disturbed plaintiff in the circumstances” (p. 261)—although, no breach was found in relation to the use of weapons by the police officers involved. Crowley was awarded A$8 million in damages, but was stripped of the compensation when, in the following year, the ACT Court of Appeal overturned the original legal judgement (the family of Quintonio LeGrier, discussed in Chapter 3, were subjected to a similar experience under United States law). The Crowley family sought special leave to challenge the decision in the High Court, but were refused by two judges, who said the case had insufficient chance of success, thereby exhausting Crowley’s legal avenues for redress (Inman, 2013).

A Potential Test Case for News Media Coverage of Crisis and Trauma The legal proceedings relating to the operational response of police officers involved in the Paul Klein incident represented something of a departure from these other liability cases. Not only did the court case question the central tenets of policing practice, but in the specific claims about the negligence of police officers, legal scrutiny was also made of news media practices. The limitations of the ‘freedom of the press’ model and conceptions of information in the ‘public interest’ were repeatedly positioned alongside questions about the ethical boundaries of mental health crisis interventions and the police duty of care to citizens. The inference was that police officers bore a responsibility for the local news media’s representations of the Paul Klein incident insofar as they had not restricted access to the scene, which enabled the widespread circulation of the “graphic images” of the events leading up to the shooting on television and in print media (Teresa Klein and Ors v The State of New South Wales [2005] NSWSC 1341, par. 7). It was alleged that police could have reasonably foreseen the ‘not insignificant’ risk that the Klein family would suffer psychiatric injury from repeated exposure to this news coverage as a consequence of their failure to establish a

6 Framing Effects and Changing Media Practices

243

perimeter around the scene, restricting media access to it (Rajendran, 2004). However, the question of whether police officers should have established an external perimeter that excluded news media access to the scene was distinct from the heart of the complaint, which focused more exclusively on the social and ethical responsibilities of the press in the mediated representation of traumatic events, particularly those involving fatal outcomes. The strength of the public defence of press freedom by news media professionals in response to the legal proceedings supported this. News reports about the proceedings were strangely negligible in regional print media, especially the Illawarra Mercury; the exception being the newspaper’s reproduction of stories distributed by AAP General News Wire (see, e.g., ‘Bereaved family wins right to sue’, 2005, p. 2). The case featured more prominently in commentary in metropolitan newspapers, such as The Sydney Morning Herald . Many of the news items published afforded little regard for the implications of the court case on contemporary policing practices. The media commentary instead focused on the potential precedent the case might set for news media coverage of crime, and the media’s ability to scrutinise police operations. This mobilised a fierce defence of the fourth estate ideals of journalism. Several commentators argued that a finding in favour of police liability would result in limitations on the freedom of the press and their ability to hold state agencies and other sources of institutional power to account. In so doing, some turned their defence of press freedom into an attack on Paul Klein’s reputation and the actions of the family in bringing the damages claim to court. One news story quoted the late Gerald Stone, then a former executive producer of the Australian current affairs television programme, 60 Minutes, as saying: Australia is becoming litigious enough and the idea you can sue the police because they didn’t stop someone taking pictures of their son committing a crime… seems to be quite out of keeping with what most Australians are on about. (Stone cited in Lamont, 2004, p. 5)

News media professionals conceded that media access to critical incidents should not be untrammelled where there were sound operational

244

K. Clifford

reasons for police to limit or prohibit the access of members of the press. But there was a noticeable absence of reflection on the part of these same media commentators as to whether the news frames constructed about the Paul Klein incident had at all besmirched the professional virtues of journalistic practice so readily espoused in the critical response to the legal proceedings. There was also little consideration as to whether the news media coverage of the critical incident may have produced traumatic effects for its news subjects—or even the news media professionals who had borne witness to the event and been responsible for the reporting of it. Ethical concerns about the risks of harm as a consequence of the media’s access to the scene and subsequent news framing of the Paul Klein incident, and general responsibilities for the effects of its publication and broadcast, were instead dismissed as attempts to restrict the media’s right to freedom of expression. Many of these claims masked longstanding anxieties about the limits of news media authority and the perceived erosion of press freedom in the wake of recurrent debates about the regulation of media practices—concerns that have had little relief in the intervening period as a result of the rise of citizen journalism and more recently, in Australia, the troubling impacts of national security laws on the work of professional journalists (see Rigby, 2020). As one news story in The Sydney Morning Herald cautioned at the time of the legal proceedings: The responsibility for dealing with sensitive material must rest with the media themselves. Yes, this means there will be lapses of taste and judgement. However, the news media have, in the main, discharged their responsibilities carefully over the years, keeping gratuitous horrors off their pages and screens. The courts must be careful not to set any precedent that would ultimately circumscribe the community’s right to be informed. (‘At the scene of the crime’, 2004, p. 16)

However, as the Paul Klein incident demonstrates, the freedom of the press is not necessarily “a sufficient condition for the production of timely and useful public information” (Bennett, 2009, p. 105) or the adequate contextualisation of complex issues within news media. Neither is the news framing of the Paul Klein incident an exceptional or

6 Framing Effects and Changing Media Practices

245

isolated case, relegated in relevance only to an era before the expansion of digital technologies and social networking platforms. If anything, the case provides us with as much insight into the news framing practices that have changed in the reporting of fatal mental health crisis interventions as those that have persisted —even under, or perhaps in spite of, the mounting pressures of “the brave new world of digital media” (Allan, 2013, p. 27) and the growing regularity with which news visuals of confronting scenes of death and destruction are now encountered.

The ‘Emotional Turn’ in Journalism Studies and Practice If the Paul Klein incident had been successfully resolved by police through non-lethal means, it arguably would not have attracted as intense, and sustained, interest as it did from the local news media or as extensive news media coverage nationwide. It may not have broken into the media and public consciousness at all. The same news logic holds true today in terms of the criterions of newsworthiness, coupled with other contextual determinants such as what else is going on in the news that day. However, this says little about the specifics of the news framing practices we do end up with in the mediated representation of these events when they do not easily fade from view, including the ethical choices embedded within them, and their framing effects. In other words, the visuality of an event may increase the chances of the story being covered, but it is another thing entirely as to what journalists and news editors choose to do with those images in their reporting of it. Despite the existence of the footage and photographs, there are any number of alternate editorial decisions that could have been made about the use of these images as visual news frames for the Paul Klein incident. These could have related to the choice of photographs and audiovisual sequences for inclusion; the aesthetics of the images in terms of their size, placement and colour; the textual framing of the images in news headlines and image captions; or even the diffusion of still frames and moving images (specifically their repeated and graphic use). Fatal mental health crisis interventions are traumatic enough in their own right, but as some

246

K. Clifford

of the accounts in this chapter have shown, individuals involved in and impacted by these events can encounter ‘second wounds’ through exposure to the news frames constructed to explain these critical incidents and, sometimes, through their own objectification within news media as well as the investigatory process. As Couldry (2006) contends, “the scale and extent of harm media may cause” are often affected by “the repetitions built into what media do” (p. 133), including the persistence of particular framing practices and their blind spots. What is meant by ‘harm’, however, is open to a range of interpretations and perspectives. “In journalism”, writes Richards (2009), “harm can take many shapes and forms, ranging from the ways in which individual practitioners interact with news subjects to invasion of privacy, intrusive behaviour and offensive reportage” (p. 17). It can also result inadvertently from the framing decisions that news media professionals make and the acts of bearing witness they engage in on a daily basis as part of their professional practice. Admittedly, it is difficult to eliminate these harms, but how might we devise best practice measures to at least minimise or mitigate against them? One option might be to expand our definition of what constitutes ‘harm’ and the ‘victims’ of it in mediated contexts. Research conducted in the fields of journalism and media studies, for example, has traditionally focused on the concepts of harm and vulnerability as they relate to the subjects of news stories. The emphasis has been on treating these individuals with respect and dignity, avoiding exploitation, especially where they have been traumatised by recent events (e.g. bereaved families) or are marginalised within society. Over recent years, however, the attention has shifted to also take account of the experiences of news media professionals since, as Richards (2009) points out, in journalism ‘being vulnerable’ can just as easily refer to the “psychological vulnerability of practitioners when reporting traumatic events” (p. 18) as it can relate to those directly impacted by them. The way in which journalists and their working conditions are now constructed is increasingly understood “less in terms of procedures for documenting the facts and more in terms of what it feels like to encounter traumatized people” and to feel traumatised by the experience (Rentschler, 2010, p. 467). As Shapiro points out: “Scientific,

6 Framing Effects and Changing Media Practices

247

evidence-based studies about trauma and resilience in news professionals have been accumulating for nearly 20 years” (cited in Edraki & Carrick, 2019). But it has taken some time for the media industry to come to grips with the prospect that journalists “bear an affective and psychological relation to the scenes and people they cover, counter to the professional ideologies of detachment and distanced observation” (Rentschler, 2010, p. 448). (More’s the pity that similar advances in thinking have not occurred to the same extent with regard to support for trauma researchers; see Clifford, 2010). The development of practical resources such as the Dart Center for Journalism & Trauma’s audiovisual production, News Media & Trauma—an Australian-produced DVD “by news people for news people” about their non-voluntary responses to traumatic events (Dart Centre for Journalism & Trauma—Australasia, 2008)—is emblematic of this push for an improved ‘ethics of self-care’ for those working in the industry. These training and support resources have sought to cultivate a ‘trauma-oriented social consciousness’ among news media professionals by depicting journalists and the like as being “psychologically connected to their work, whether they choose to be or not” (Rentschler, 2010, p. 448). Evidence of this can be readily found in the case of YZ. In a landmark court decision in 2019, YZ, a journalist from The Age, was awarded A$180,000 for the psychological injury she experienced over a decade of repeated exposure to traumatic events while working as a crime and court reporter for the Melbourne-based newspaper (see YZ (a pseudonym) v The Age Company Limited [2019] VCC 148). In a legal first, the court found The Age had breached its duty of care by failing to provide a safe workplace and adequate support for YZ. The case was touted as a potential precedent for other professions that encounter trauma as part of their everyday work practices, such as the law (see Dale, 2019). “Historically”, writes Ricketson and Wake (2019), “the idea of journalists suing their employers for occupational PTSD [post-traumatic stress disorder] was unheard of. Newsroom culture dictated that journalists did whatever was asked of them, including intrusions on grieving relatives”. But the court ruling sent ripples through newsrooms the world over, putting media companies on notice that they are legally liable for the situations they put their reporters in and “face large compensation claims if they

248

K. Clifford

fail to take care of journalists who regularly cover traumatic events” (Ricketson & Wake, 2019). The case also highlighted the ‘emotional labour’ of journalism and the way in which, for many news media professionals, the challenge of such exposure lies not in the process of covering one traumatic news story, but in the scars borne from reporting on an accumulation of traumatic events. Despite this, the dominant professional ideology of news journalism has traditionally dictated that media practitioners remain impartial or ‘objective’ towards their witnessing and reporting of such events. This principle—as a central ‘strategic ritual’ of journalism—has been criticised for preserving the expectation that news media professionals should remain “emotionally absent” (Davies, 2009, p. 41) from their reporting practices and the narratives they construct—something that is hard to do in the face of loss and tragedy. The ideal of objectivity assumes a journalist is able to detach their emotions from the story and be judgement-free, thereby producing what is considered to be ‘quality’ journalism. Emotionality, by contrast, has traditionally been equated with “a decline in the standards of journalism and a deviance from journalism’s proper social role” (Pantti, 2010, p. 169). But as Gaber (2014) points out, journalists are “social animals”; they come with personal histories and embodied experiences that “impact their ways of seeing” not to mention “an ingrained sense of professional values and expectations which colour how they go about their work” (p. 59). In this respect, emotion is not only connected to the professional practices of journalists, but also the mediated expressions of news sources, the topics and events covered within news and, of course, the visuals used to illustrate news stories. Images in particular are “instrumental in bringing emotionality into news” (Pantti, 2010, p. 175). Engaging with news visuals that depict images of death and destruction is not a neutral practice. This is as much the case for news media professionals as it is for media audiences. There is a moral imperative to looking. As the scholarship on media witnessing tells us, to look is to participate. The selection of these images by news media professionals, and the ways in which they are framed, function as interpretive cues for publics on how they should participate—i.e. the proper reactions to such news events. Embedded within this are processes

6 Framing Effects and Changing Media Practices

249

of judgement and selectivity; about who to interview, what to show, and the salience of facts (Coward, 2013). The dictum of objectivity is therefore a paradox; one of the great truths of journalism as well as one of its greatest lies. Mediated emotional expression has always played a role in journalistic practice, even if it has been something of an “epistemological blind spot” in studies of the profession (Wahl-Jorgensen, 2019c, p. 2). Emotion, writes Wahl-Jorgensen (2019b), has “a massive presence that has for so long been invisible and therefore unrecognized”, even though understanding its role “is key to unlocking the significance of the stories we tell ourselves as a society, and the forms of change rendered possible as a result” (p. 37). As the role of citizens in news production has become more explicit, and the involvement of media professionals in their work has broadened in acceptance—recognising that journalists are not only thinking, but feeling individuals whose personal responses to subject matter may inform their professional media practices (and vice versa)—a different kind of engagement has emerged with regard to emotions and journalism. This has heralded a more nuanced view of journalistic practice and a growing appreciation of the role of emotion as a virtue in news media, which has been interpreted by some as a reaction to the normative model of objectivity that has predominated journalism theory and practice and, by others, as overdue recognition that ‘objectivity’ and ‘emotionality’ can and do operate alongside one another in journalistic practice. We can see this in the context of news media reports of fatal mental health crisis interventions, wherein emotional discourse has started to perform many of the same functions once associated with rational dialogue (Petersen, 2011) in the telling of stories about these events, particularly through the mediated expressions of news sources. Over the two decades highlighted in this study, a more intimate approach to storytelling has emerged; one in which ‘emotion’ has become a more explicit organising principle, narrative device and media frame within news texts, including what has conventionally been characterised as ‘hard news’. This has resulted in lesser emphasis on institutionallydriven news frames as the dominant interpretive lens through which to structure meaning about fatal mental health crisis interventions in favour of personal stories of loss, revolving mostly around the testimonies of

250

K. Clifford

grieving relatives. These narratives have increasingly been identified in news media coverage immediately following these tragedies. This has arguably been influenced by the breakneck pace of news production in the 24/7 information cycle and the competitive challenges of digitisation. To attract audiences, news producers have had to “make their content available to search engines and social media with little or no financial return”. This has created the need for content that is more emotive and shareable “to satisfy the workings of [these] digital platforms” (Wilding et al., 2018, p. 4). Such patterns of reporting are also predicated on the willingness of bereaved family members to engage with news media following the death of a loved one, possibly in anticipation of the platform that mainstream media provides to tell their story ‘in their own words’ (as a counter-frame to that of the police and sometimes media misrepresentation) in an age where public intrusions and the sharing of emotions on personal subjects have become normatively demanded and accepted and have “filtered more widely into press reporting” (Wardle, 2006, p. 528). This has disrupted the normative dynamics of police-media relations and prior patterns of media coverage wherein the ‘individualising’ claims of official voices, such as police administrators and union leaders, served as the primary definers of the news agenda in relation to fatal mental health crisis interventions. It is now increasingly common for the discourse of bereaved family members and friends of the deceased to occupy this position. These voices do not always reflect what might be considered ‘fact-centred’ and rational discursive practice (especially compared to the institutional discourse of police). More often, their narratives are driven by strong emotions, bound up in grief and anger. The transformative and reparative potential inherent within these personal trauma narratives—especially the questions they seek to open up about institutional power, culture, behaviour and ethics—cannot be ignored. As Butler (2009) argues, “[o]pen grieving is bound up with outrage, and outrage in the face of injustice or indeed of unbearable loss has enormous political potential ” [emphasis added] (p. 39). To seek to suppress the power inherent within these personal trauma narratives, rather than harness it, may therefore have the effect of limiting the

6 Framing Effects and Changing Media Practices

251

ability of emotional expression to positively contribute to the development of improved literacies and reforms in relation to mental ill-health and policing, as well as the critical consideration of moral questions about institutional authority as it relates to the tragic outcomes of psychiatric crises in the community. When families and activists hit out against fatal police-involved shootings of vulnerable individuals such as those experiencing a mental health crisis, they are often protesting serious, deeply entrenched problems. “In essence”, writes Stroud (2019), “they protest unfairness” (p. 216) and what are perceived to be the indefensible actions of the state. It is in part for this reason that prior studies of news have often sought to identify the extent to which the voices of ordinary people feature in stories about nationally significant events and social issues. Fewer have asked, however, what role these voices play, when present, in structuring meaning and supporting the construction of particular news frames about controversial matters such as police use of force. This prompts a slightly different question; one that not only concentrates on who gets a voice, but as importantly on “which emotions do gain purchase in the public sphere, why, and with what consequences” (Wahl-Jorgensen, 2019b, p. 8).

Four Corners and the Politics of Police Use of Lethal Force On 26 October 2009, the Australian Broadcasting Corporation (ABC) screened an episode of its Four Corners programme called ‘Lethal Force’. Since 1961, Four Corners has served as one of the leading broadcast platforms for investigative journalism in Australia, founded on the ABC’s public service remit to provide credible news and current affairs reporting. The programme is broadcast on Australian free-to-air television and is replayed, these days, on the ABC NEWS Channel as well as the public broadcaster’s online video-on-demand and catch-up service, ABC iview. A Walkley national journalism award-winning programme, Four Corners addresses a single issue in-depth each week. Over the decades, the programme has exposed scandals, triggered inquiries, stirred up debate and confronted taboo topics. The principal question the

252

K. Clifford

‘Lethal Force’ episode sought to answer, according to reporter Quentin McDermott, was whether Australian police are “up to the job” of dealing with mentally ill individuals in crisis in the community and whether they know the difference between “the use and abuse of lethal force” (‘Lethal Force’, 2009). The episode looked at four critical incidents from across Australia where people experiencing mental illness or psychological distress had died after being shot or tasered by police. These included the deaths of Roni Levi, Elijah Holcombe, Tyler Cassidy and Antonio Galeano— all mentioned in previous chapters of this book. At the time of the television broadcast, the latter three cases had not yet been before the Coroner. Despite this, the Four Corners episode included the testimonies of eyewitnesses as well as bereaved family members. These individuals, collectively, were critical of the actions of police officers involved in each of the cases. For some viewers, the inclusion of these cases compromised the Four Corners coverage, given the unresolved nature of the coronial process associated with them and the criticism often levelled at police— i.e. that their public statements in the aftermath of a fatal mental health crisis intervention suggest a decision to find in favour of the actions of members associated with the death, even before the official investigation and coronial process have been completed (Office of Police Integrity, Victoria, 2012b). The only (former) frontline police officer to feature in the Four Corners episode with lived experience of involvement in a fatal mental health crisis intervention was Anthony Dilorenzo, who had fatally shot Roni Levi 12 years prior. Notwithstanding whether Dilorenzo was a reputable inclusion to the programme (because of many of the issues raised in the introduction to this book), his narrative was undermined by lines of journalistic questioning which reinforced the notion that police officers are trained to ‘shoot to kill’ and that police accounts of these critical incidents—Dilorenzo’s included—are always highly contested and therefore delegitimised in both their accuracy and utility in helping families understand what happened to their loved one. In one segment of the wide-ranging programme, reporter Quentin McDermott asks Beaver Hudson, an emergency psychiatry coordinator at St. Vincent’s Hospital, ‘what went wrong’ from the hospital’s point of view with regard to the Roni Levi case. Hudson replies that the problem

6 Framing Effects and Changing Media Practices

253

was “Mr Levi was allowed to leave [the hospital]”. He explains that mentally ill people brought into the hospital by police under section 22 of the Mental Health Act in NSW are “our responsibility, they’re the responsibility of health. They’re not the responsibility of law enforcement” (Hudson cited in ‘Lethal Force’, 2009). “But when someone who is mentally ill is out on the streets”, McDermott’s voiceover tells us, “they are the responsibility of law enforcement” (McDermott cited in ‘Lethal Force’, 2009). The trouble, according to the ‘Lethal Force’ episode, is that police lack “proper training” in how to respond to these street encounters—an argument that Dilorenzo is asked to corroborate by confirming that neither he nor his colleagues had received training in how to deal with someone who is mentally ill, prior to the fatal shooting of Roni Levi. Contemporary police initiatives, such as the NSW Police Force MHIT, while briefly featured in the episode, are framed as an inadequate response given the numbers of frontline police officers who have completed the training—which, at that stage, was still in its pilot phase and being independently evaluated. Demonstrating how divisive critical incidents of this kind are even in public discourse, some of the viewer comments posted to the Four Corners online noticeboard after the broadcast supported the programme’s framing of frontline police as inadequately trained, ‘trigger happy’, and individually responsible for the fatal outcomes of the four incidents covered in the ‘Lethal Force’ episode. However, a number more—some whose authors openly stated that they were police officers, others who indicated they were individuals with experience of mental illness—contested these media frames, criticising Four Corners for what was perceived to be its agenda-driven style of journalism and unfair critique of policing: What a disgraceful excuse for journalism 4 corners. To say you have told one side of the story would be putting it lightly. Perhaps explaining the ‘victims’ (sic) actions prior to police arrival may have helped explain to your viewers why the police thought it necessary to draw their weapons. The police may have made mistakes in some of these cases, but I doubt any of them got out of bed hoping to shoot someone. (Robert H , 26 October 2009, 9:49:27 p.m.)

254

K. Clifford

Concerns were also raised by viewers about the ethics of including eyewitness testimonies about those critical incidents, covered in the ‘Lethal Force’ episode, which had yet to proceed to coronial inquest. Implicit within some of these comments was not only a misunderstanding of the purposes of coronial proceedings (as an inquiry, not a trial) but also a privileging of legal contexts—specifically, the coronial process—over journalism as a mechanism for ‘getting at the truth’ of what had happened in each of the critical incidents. In the process, some of the comments re-energised normative assumptions about the ‘proper’ role of journalism with the foregrounding of emotion, as expressed through the accounts of bereaved family members who participated in the programme, framed as antithetical to journalistic objectivity: It seems the ABC now has the power to circumvent the natural course of justice in this country. In at least two of the case studies offered last night, some of the ‘facts’ reported during the show are yet to be substantiated before a coronial inquiry. The anti-police stance adopted by the producers of the programme was breathtaking, to say the least. If ever I find myself in the unenviable situation where I am confronted by an armed, mentally ill individual, my first emergency call will be to the ABC and they can send over the Four Corners production team to diffuse the situation. (veryconcerned , 27 October 2009, 10:49:01 a.m.)

Many of the online respondents also expressed concerns that the programme’s perceived prejudices towards police officers could have detrimental real-world impacts on policing and mental illness. A number of viewers inevitably pointed to the failings of the mental health system as a key contributor to the fatal outcomes of the cases, with comments posted by both police officers and members of the public (including mental health carers) echoing the following sentiments: While I feel sympathy for those people portrayed in these stories I am also saddened by the attitude that the police should be to blame. This is a failure of a system that does not have enough funding or resources. I am a frontline police officer who day in and day out sees the results of a failing system of those who suffer mental illness. I have seen countless times where a person is taken to a mental health facility using our power

6 Framing Effects and Changing Media Practices

255

under the mental health act, to see them walk straight back out again with no treatment and it then results in them harming themselves or others… When Police are at the point of interacting with these people its (sic) usually at crisis point there is no reasoning with the persons, they are not coherent… Why don’t you ever talk about the failings of the system that got those poor people to a point where they were no longer in control. (georgie, 26 October 2009, 9:38:05 p.m.)

The Marginalisation of Police Mental Health Trauma Narratives Not dissimilar to the reader comments recorded in response to the Paul Klein incident through the writing of letters to the editor, or the use of social media platforms since, the comments posted to the Four Corners online noticeboard demonstrated the breadth of debate that media coverage of fatal mental health crisis interventions can generate. Sometimes, this runs the risk of the media coverage itself becoming the story, especially where there is a discord between popular opinion and the news frames constructed. More often, this public discourse highlights the unspoken within mainstream mediated representations of these events, capitalising on the opportunity to redress these media silences, be they about alternatives to police use of lethal force, failures in the mental health system or the experiences of those on the frontline of law enforcement. Indeed, it has become increasingly common to see commentaries that include the declaration ‘I am a police officer’ within online responses to mainstream media coverage of fatal mental health crisis interventions. Often, these are measured responses. At other times, they find offence with almost any criticism of the police, which as Muir (2020) contends, “is a frightening position to take in a democratic society”. While the emotional impacts on the family of the deceased may be more immediately and palpably felt by those who ‘bear witness’ to tragedies such as fatal mental health crisis interventions, the trauma experienced by the police officers who take a life can be equally ruinous to themselves and their families. But as demonstrated by examples such as

256

K. Clifford

the Four Corners episode, the public is rarely given reason to contemplate this in the constructions of policing typically found in mainstream media coverage of these critical incidents. This is through no fault or malevolence on the part of the journalist per se (although, as some of the comments on the Four Corners online noticeboard demonstrate, it can certainly seem that way to publics with a vested interest in the story or lived experience that supports a counter-frame to the one being presented). Rather, it is a product of the practical constraints around source access, specifically the police protocols and other legal conventions, which as previously established in Chapter 4, prevent officers from speaking publicly about their involvement in a critical incident, and sometimes coroners too. In the absence of these voices, it is left to the ‘individualising’ claims of the top brass to represent police interests in media coverage about a fatal mental health crisis intervention. For audiences of this news and current affairs content, this can be ungratifying, since these claims will often take the form of statements without an apology or an apology without an acknowledgement of responsibility (Sherman, 2020). They offer little by way of explanation as to why police officers were compelled to shoot. Furthermore, these public statements can come across as devoid of emotion in relation to citizen deaths, especially when compared with the interpretive frames offered by grieving relatives—against which this institutional discourse is consistently pitted and regulated within news stories about the police use of lethal force in mental health crisis events. Police officers are indeed sworn to protect the public, irrespective of the criticisms or protests they may be subject to. But while they are expected to be prepared to face critical incidents in the execution of their duties, this does not mean they are immune from being negatively affected by such events when they do occur (Conway & Parkes, 1996). Professional conduct can have very personal consequences. Following the fatal police-involved shooting of teenager Tyler Cassidy in 2008, Rod Porter, a former detective inspector with Victoria Police, wrote in an online editorial for the Australian newspaper, the Herald Sun: I’m a former copper who once shot a man dead, and I’m also the father of a 15-year-old boy…No police officer joins the force because they want

6 Framing Effects and Changing Media Practices

257

to shoot someone dead… At the time, preserving my own life was the priority… You have to act in what you think is the most appropriate way… The fact I was involved in the taking of a life will stay with me until I die.

The “profound and unavoidable changes [that] take place in the body and the brain when a person is placed under severe stress” feature extensively in policing research on the ‘body alarm reaction’ or what is more commonly known as the ‘fight or flight’ response experienced by police officers during highly volatile encounters (Conway & Parkes, 1996, p. 33). These changes can have a dramatic impact on the discretionary decision-making of even the most seasoned and well-trained police officers. But with few exceptions, it is society’s expectation that, in a mental health crisis intervention, police officers will “take charge of the individual for the safety and well-being of all concerned” (McElvain & Kposowa, 2008, p. 507). Official police statements then, even if inadvertently, narrow the space for the expression of the personal trauma narratives by those within the police’s own ranks. The vulnerabilities that this exposes individual officers to—not only in terms of their mediated representation within news media, but also in their return to frontline service and the public’s scrutiny of their credibility and authority—is not readily acknowledged or addressed in the literature on policing, let alone in media coverage. A consequence is that news consumers can end up projecting “any number of attributes onto these amorphous figures” (Hirschfield & Simon, 2010, p. 175) without regard for the possible harm this may inflict on them as individuals. Journalists can certainly be guilty of this too. “The result”, writes Freckelton (2016), “is that the one-sided publicity can generate perceptions of fault which ultimately may not be corroborated by findings” (p. 22). This can overshadow the possibility of these police officers being seen as legitimate ‘victims’ in their own right or in terms commensurate to their sense of personal vulnerability (not that this is a popular narrative for media to tell). Investigative journalist, Kate Wild (2018), points to precisely what Freckelton describes in her book on the Elijah Holcombe case when she observes how, in the absence of his own testimony during the coronial

258

K. Clifford

inquest, she had started to construct a particular view of the police officer who had killed Holcombe: Whoever spoke controlled the narrative. The Holcombes were speaking, Rich wasn’t, and whatever his reasons, his silence put him at a disadvantage. I only had one side of the story. I didn’t know Rich’s. I didn’t understand the fear that prompted him to pull his gun; I didn’t know what he felt and thought in Cinders Lane, or why he made the choice to shoot… and left with that void, I was trying to fill it. (p. 211)

On the rare occasions where the voices of police officers do feature in mainstream media coverage about mental health interventions that have ended in tragic circumstances, their testimonies offer insight into how involvement in such events can be the ‘breaking point’ for those police already routinely exposed to the negative effects of trauma work. Lenore Schiller, a former NSW Police negotiator, explains: I just didn’t want to see anybody. I couldn’t sort of look at a police officer and I just couldn’t look at a uniform. It just sent me into a complete state of anxiety… Many years of policing and seeing horrific things, being at horrific events had all come to a head. And this was just the one that tipped me, where my mind just apparently closed down and said, “That’s it, no more”. (Schiller cited in ‘The Guns of Adjungbilly – Part 2’, 2005)

In February 2001, Schiller attended a siege in the rural community of Adjungbilly on the edge of the Snowy Mountains in southern NSW after 57-year-old mentally ill man, Jim ‘Hank’ Hallinan, pulled a gun on police who were attempting to arrest him for outstanding warrants. Schiller describes it as a weekend “that changed my life completely”. It was a weekend that also clearly and completely changed the lives of Hallinan’s family. For Loretta Jamieson, after being reassured by police that her brother would not be shot, she “went to pieces” on receiving the phone call to say that this was precisely what had happened. “I’ll never understand it”, says their brother, Brian Hallinan (see ‘The Guns of Adjungbilly – Parts 1 and 2’, 2005). Around 90 police officers, including the TOU and specialist-trained sharpshooters, descended on the remote rural property. Some 36 hours later, Hallinan—who it was suspected

6 Framing Effects and Changing Media Practices

259

was experiencing psychosis at the time—was dead after being shot by a police sniper. “I felt personally that I’d failed in my duty as a negotiator”, Schiller said in an interview for the television documentary series Australian Story, which produced a two-part episode on the case. Another consequence of the predominance of institutionally-driven truth-claims in response to fatal mental health crisis interventions is that it can sustain the presumption that police officers involved in the incident are being sheltered from scrutiny and protected by the might and muscle of the police force. But the public statements made by police administrators in the aftermath of a fatal mental health crisis intervention are done so primarily in the services of ‘image work’—to protect the reputation of the institution of policing—not necessarily the individual officers involved, who may in fact feel marginalised by and within the organisation in the aftermath of the event. This strict adherence to formal critical incident protocols can negate a compassionate institutional response towards police officers involved in the killing of a citizen, since police rules are regularly privileged over subjective experience and psychological impacts. This has the potential to create a conflict between the institutional support individual police officers expect in carrying out their duties in the service of the police and public safety and the indifference with which some police officers have been treated in the aftermath of a fatal police-involved shooting. One of the police officers I interviewed from the Paul Klein incident, for example, said he had objected to feeling judged after the shooting by colleagues (especially those in the police hierarchy) who had never been placed in a similar operational situation before. The expectation that he would return to work within days of the shooting added to this stress. The restrained nature of the official statements made by police leaders— which tend to report only on the who, what, where, when and how of a critical incident—can further exacerbate this, given how controlled these statements may seem in comparison with the responses the police officers involved may be experiencing. For this reason, the narrative presented to the press and publics by police administrators is what Van Maanen (1980) terms “a paper reality” (p. 151) since, for some police officers, these damage-control or public relations style pronouncements will not necessarily or adequately reflect their own experiences of the event and

260

K. Clifford

its repercussions. They tend to “reduce to quantitative measures matters of qualitative concern” (Van Maanen, 1980, p. 147). For the police officer involved, such a theory will have “no essential application for it will always be superficial to the contextually embedded phenomenon it attempts to understand” (Van Maanen, 1980, p. 156). But critics might say the same about the theories individual officers themselves construct, sometimes years after the event, to explain what ‘really happened’ in a given violent episode. The discourse typical to these accounts, especially where they are shared between police colleagues, can—like police rhetoric more generally—seem detached and hardedged to those outside the police, depicting violence and its aftermath as “a casual occupational matter” (Van Maanen, 1980, p. 152). Take for instance the following excerpt from a lengthy 35-page essay written for Australian Police Journal by retired sergeant Brett Pennell (2017)—the police sniper who fatally shot Jim Hallinan at Adjungbilly—detailing the operational response by police: When you are dealing with an armed offender you have to be far enough away for safety, preferably outside that particular weapon’s kill range, but close enough to hear any response you get from the offender, so it is really a matter of a risk assessment; weighing up practicality versus safety. (p. 13)

The absence of emotional expression or admission of error in these responses, for Van Maanen (1980), says more about “the occupational culture of policing and the sociology of emotions” than it does about the individual police officers involved and “the psychology of emotions” (p. 156). More to the point, it says something about the representational limits of trauma and the unsustainable nature of risk communications in the aftermath of such critical incidents.

Conclusion There has previously been much criticism directed towards news media for its general resistance towards the construction of thematic news

6 Framing Effects and Changing Media Practices

261

frames, which would otherwise provide broader context for media consumers in relation to significant news events and social problems. The normative news media coverage of fatal mental health crisis interventions is no exception to this, as demonstrated by the comments posted to the Four Corners online noticeboard after the broadcast of its ‘Lethal Force’ episode. But even in generating this debate—across multiple mediums these days, not just through letters to the editor and the comments function on stories—this media coverage provides insights into the relationship between policing, mental illness and journalism and the contested status of truth-claims in the news. As Allan (2013) wisely notes, the distinction “between truth and truth-claim is a vital one in this regard”, given that testimony “is no guarantor of truth, but rather a personal attestation to perceived facticity”. In other words, writes Allan, “to be truthful does not imply possession of Truth” (p. 118). Traditionally, the lack of context in these cases was attributed to an absence of lay discourse and the voices of those impacted by these critical incidents, especially the family of the deceased. Media reports of contemporary fatal mental health crisis interventions have sought to redress this with a stronger and more centralised focus on bereaved families as primary definers of these news events, aligned with the ‘emotional turn’ in journalism theory and practice. This has been the case particularly where family and friends of the deceased have been proactive in their use of news media as a platform for their criticisms of the police operational response. In many cases, these individuals have also used this engagement as an opportunity to (re)define the mediated subjectivity of their loved one in terms of the memories of the life they lived, rather than the circumstances by which they died. There is undoubtedly an intrinsic value to the inclusion of these previously-marginalised voices in terms of the sharing of lived experience and their contribution to sense-making in relation to controversial and traumatic events—not to mention the ways in which they seek to hold police accountable for their actions. News narratives that foreground the personal stories of trauma associated with the death of a loved one in unanticipated and violent circumstances resonate strongly and emotionally with media audiences. These news frames presume a moral responsibility; they compel us to believe that a public response

262

K. Clifford

to the critical incident is required (Cohen, 2001). But while attempts to remedy the absence of lay voices have served to highlight the value of emotion and the experiential in news framing practices, the trend towards de-contextualised reporting of these critical incidents and the marginalisation of other voices of lived experience persists. This suggests that the story told can arguably only ever be a partial one, as can the meaning that is assembled from it. This is true even of the long-form investigative journalism produced by programmes such as Four Corners, which benefits from the space and opportunity to explore these events less reductively and at a level of intricacy that print news, for example, cannot always accommodate. As Lester and Hutchins (2012) suggest, there is undoubtedly a place for the interpretive reporting of the kind identified in this media coverage, given “its deserved appeal and capacity for insight into human character and emotional experience” (p. 664). It also provides a potentially useful space for traditionally marginalised voices to be heard in sociopolitical debate (Cottle, 2000). But the “unique structure and unavoidable partiality of the storytelling on display also demands journalistic circumspection in restricting the range of rationalities and knowledge claims being moulded and presented” (Lester & Hutchins, 2012, p. 664)—particularly in light of the framing effects this media coverage can have in terms of trauma-oriented news journalism. This is essential, particularly in the context of crisis and trauma reporting, where the way in which news journalists report a story has the potential to “come apart from what the story actually is” as a consequence of the “natural interests, agenda and prejudices” of news media professionals driving their perception of the facts (Kieran, 1998, p. 34). This is not to excuse the police killing of mentally ill individuals in crisis. The excessive use of force by police can and does occur and should be rightfully called out—even prosecuted—where there is evidence to support this. But, as previously explained, history has shown that this rarely occurs because of the inherently ambiguous and contested nature of such events and the legal standards associated with them. Better representation is one way to start to shift perspectives. But in perpetuating the framing of fatal mental health crisis interventions through the lens of binaries—vulnerability/responsibility, emotionality/objectivity, victims/villains—news media coverage continues to present what

6 Framing Effects and Changing Media Practices

263

are predominantly abstracted, over-simplified and archetypally-based versions of these events, which obscure the depths of their complexity and the path to their prevention. As research has shown, framing decisions made in the process of putting together these news stories can ultimately serve to influence and shape “political and ethical judgements, orienting publics to ‘normative and moral orders, to responsibility and blame, intentionality and social evaluation’” (Edwards, 2001, p. 242). These may be views that reflect their time, but what does this style of reporting do to lead media audiences beyond it? How does it move beyond the immediacy of the news event to contribute to societal wellbeing by helping publics understand the “wider circle, deeper roots” of the issue (Bornstein cited in McIntyre, Dahmen & Abdenour, 2018, p. 1658)? Reporting that lacks context or that relies on deeply engrained patterns of preferential news framing can have distorting impacts for the ways in which mental illness, policing—and even trauma—are perceived. This is at the same time as this media coverage has the potential to demonstrate its own enabling aspects by acting as a precursor or catalyst to sociopolitical debate, activism and change. While stories about fatal mental health crisis interventions may be largely ephemeral in their own right, taken together as a corpus over time, they tell a compelling tale. They demonstrate the contested landscape journalists enter into in attempting to cover these critical incidents and the ways in which this has been made all the more complex in the networked ecology of contemporary media content production. As Jensen (2019) points out: “New platforms for publishing have brought welcome new voices but have also brought an unfiltered approach to information, much of it difficult to verify, some of it mischievous and untrue” (p. 15). In trying to navigate its way in this affective news environment, professional journalism must not lose its competitive, critical, independent edge. It must continue to “tell people things they do not always want to hear. But it should also find better ways to give context and promote understanding so that we pay attention to and engage with the news” (Beckett & Deuze, 2016, p. 3). The solution lies not in providing false equivalency to source perspectives within news stories or in necessarily pursuing the ignoble cause of

264

K. Clifford

‘balanced coverage’—that other oft-contested principle which supposedly indemnifies a journalist from appearing to insert their own emotions into their work. Rather, as Simpson and Coté (2006) argue: Humane reporting [of traumatic events]… requires a new set of assumptions about the person who suffers trauma and new thinking about how to apply those ideas to the basic work of journalism. (p. 8)

This raises a number of questions about what we consider professional journalism’s purpose to be in relation to the reporting of controversial events such as fatal mental health crisis interventions—especially at a time when journalism’s borders are “more ill-defined than they have ever been before” (Schudson, 2018, p. 1)—and what function we believe news should play in our lives. It also requires us to consider both the benefits as well as the potential harms or dangers of the emotionalisation of news practices, especially where the commercialisation or commodification of these emotions can dilute their value or bring about compassion fatigue, which can act as an inhibitor to public understanding and pragmatism.

References Allan, S. (2013). Citizen witnessing. Cambridge: Polity Press. ‘At the scene of the crime’. (2004, September 16). The Sydney Morning Herald , p. 16. Baker, D. (2016). Researching deaths after police contact: Challenges and solutions. Journal of Criminological Research, Policy and Practice, 2(1), 15–27. Bardoel, J., & d’Haenens, L. (2004). Media responsibility and accountability: New conceptualizations and practices. Communications, 29 (1), 5–25. Beckett, C., & Deuze, M. (2016, July–September). On the role of emotion in the future of journalism. Social Media + Society, 2(3), 1–6. Bennett, W. L. (2009). The press, power and public accountability. In S. Allan (Ed.), The Routledge companion to news and journalism (pp. 105–115). London and New York: Routledge.

6 Framing Effects and Changing Media Practices

265

‘Bereaved family wins right to sue’. (2005, December 24). Illawarra Mercury, p. 2. Biber, K. (2014). Inside Jill Meagher’s handbag: Looking at open justice. Alternative Law Journal, 39 (2), 73–77. Biber, K. (2019). In crime’s archive: The cultural afterlife of evidence. Abingdon, Oxon and New York, NY: Routledge. Butler, J. (2009). Frames of war: When is life grievable?. London: Verso. CBC Radio. (2019, August 23). “An enormous change in the news agenda”: How trauma-informed reporting is transforming journalism. CBC Radio, The Sunday Edition. Retrieved February 2, 2020, from https://www.cbc.ca/ radio/thesundayedition/the-sunday-edition-for-august-25-2019-1.5256740/ an-enormous-change-in-the-news-agenda-how-trauma-informed-reportingis-transforming-journalism-1.5256757. Chappell, D., & Graham, L. P. (1985). Police use of deadly force: Canadian perspectives. Toronto, Canada: Centre of Criminology, University of Toronto. Clifford, K. (2010b). Mental health trauma narratives and misplaced assumptions: Towards an ethics of self-care among (humanities-based) trauma researchers. In M. Broderick & A. Traverso (Eds.), Trauma, media, art: New perspectives (pp. 175–192). Newcastle upon Tyne: Cambridge Scholars Publishing. Cohen, S. (2001). States of Denial: Knowing about atrocities and suffering. Cambridge: Polity Press. Connolly, E. (1999d, December 24). Coming to grief. The Sydney Morning Herald , p. 21. Conway, M., & Parkes, M. (1996). Body alarm reactions during critical incidents. Policing Issues & Practice Journal , October issue, 33–38. Cottle, S. (2000). TV news, lay voices and the visualisation of environmental risks. In S. Allan, B. Adam, & C. Carter (Eds.), Environmental risks and the media (pp. 29–44). London: Routledge. Couldry, N. (2006). Listening beyond the Echoes: Media, ethics, and agency in an uncertain world . Boulder, Colorado: Paradigm Publishers. Coward, R. (2013). Speaking personally: The rise of subjective and confessional journalism. London: Palgrave Macmillan. Dale, A. (2019, May 29). Taking on the trauma. LSJ Online. Retrieved August 18, 2020, from https://lsj.com.au/articles/taking-on-the-trauma/. Dart Centre for Journalism & Trauma—Australasia. (Distributor). (2008). News media & trauma [DVD]. Melbourne, Victoria. Davies, N. (2009). Nick Davies. In M. Gordon & C. Wilkinson (Eds.), Conversations on truth (pp. 39–60). London: Continuum.

266

K. Clifford

Doherty, L., & Bricknell, S. (2020, February). Shooting deaths in police custody. Statistical Bulletin 19. Canberra: Australian Institute of Criminology. Retrieved February 7, 2020, from https://www.aic.gov.au/publicati ons/sb/sb19. Edraki, F., & Carrick, D. (2019, March 22). Trauma of news journalism in focus after the age found responsible for reporter’s PTSD. ABC News. Retrieved August 10, 2020, from https://www.abc.net.au/news/2019-03-22/ ex-age-journalist-awarded-damages-for-ptsd-world-first/10896382. Edwards, D. (2001). Emotion. In M. Wetherell, S. Taylor, & S. J. Yates (Eds.), Discourse theory and practice: A reader (pp. 236–246). London: Sage. Freckelton, I. (1996). Suing the police: The moral of the disappointing morsel. Alternative Law Journal, 21(4), 173–190. Freckelton, I. (2016). Minimising the counter-therapeutic effects of coronial investigations: In search of balance. QUT Law Review, 16 (3), 4–29. Gaber, I. (2014). Three cheers for subjectivity: The continuing collapse of the seven pillars of journalistic wisdom. In A. Charles (Ed.), The end of journalism version 2.0: Industry, technology and politics (pp. 53–71). Oxford: Peter Lang. Goldsworthy, T. (2014, November 25). Shoot to kill: The use of lethal force by police in Australia. The Conversation. Retrieved January 27, 2019, from https://theconversation.com/shoot-to-kill-the-use-of-lethalforce-by-police-in-australia-34578. Gyldensted, C. (2014, October 24). How journalists could be more constructive—and boost audiences. The Guardian. Retrieved August 10, 2020, from https://www.theguardian.com/media-network/2014/oct/24/con structive-journalism-de-correspondent. Haagerup, U. (2017). Constructive news: How to save the media and democracy with journalism of tomorrow. Aarhus, Denmark: Aarhus University Press. Hamdorf, R., Boni, N., Webber, I., Pikl, A., & Packer, J. (1998). National minimum guidelines for incident management, conflict resolution and use of force. Payneham, SA: National Police Research Unit. Hirschfield, P. J., & Simon, D. (2010). Legitimating police violence: Newspaper narratives of deadly force. Theoretical Criminology, 14 (2), 155–182. Inman, M. (2013, June 6). Crowleys must go cap in hand as appeal denied. The Canberra Times. Retrieved January 26, 2019, from https://www.canber ratimes.com.au/national/act/crowleys-must-go-cap-in-hand-as-appeal-den ied-20130606-2nrlo.html. Inquest into the death of Paul Simon Klein. (1999, December 21). NSW State Coroner’s Court, Wollongong.

6 Framing Effects and Changing Media Practices

267

Jensen, E. (2019). Fragile minds. PEN Melbourne Magazine, 2, 10–19. Kieran, M. (1998). Objectivity, impartiality and good journalism. In M. Kieran (Ed.), Media ethics (pp. 23–36). London: Routledge. Lamont, L. (2004, September 15). Dead man’s family sues over TV footage. The Sydney Morning Herald , p. 5. Lester, L., & Hutchins, B. (2012). Soft journalism, politics and environmental risk: An Australian story. Journalism, 13(5), 654–667. ‘Lethal Force’. (2009, October 26). Four Corners [Television broadcast]. Sydney, NSW: ABC TV. Lockhart, P. R. (2018, June 29). Quintonio LeGrier was killed by police: A jury awarded his family $1 million: Then a judge took it away. Vox. Retrieved July 25, 2018, from https://www.vox.com/identities/2018/6/29/17515500/ quintonio-legrier-police-shooting-settlement-reversed-chicago. May, L. (1996). The socially responsive self: Social theory and professional ethics. Chicago and London: University of Chicago Press. McCulloch, J., & Palmer, D. (2005). Civil litigation by citizens against Australian police between 1994 and 2002 [Report to the Criminology Research Council]. CRC Grant No. 19/01-02. Retrieved January 11, 2012, from http://www.criminologyresearchcouncil.gov.au/reports/20010219.pdf. McElvain, J. P., & Kposowa, A. J. (2008). Police officer characteristics and the likelihood of using deadly force. Criminal Justice and Behavior, 35 (4), 505–521. McIntyre, K., Dahmen, N. S., & Abdenour, J. (2018). The contextualist function: US newspaper journalists value social responsibility. Journalism, 19 (12), 1657–1675. McIntyre, K., & Gyldensted, C. (2018). Constructive journalism: An introduction and practical guide for applying positive psychology techniques to news production. The Journal of Media Innovations, 4 (2), 20–34. McLellan, T. (1999). Fair game or fair go? Impact of news reporting on victims and survivors of traumatic events. Asia Pacific Media Educator, 1(7), 53–72. MEAA. (2020). MEAA journalist code of ethics [Webpage]. Retrieved August 10, 2020, from https://www.meaa.org/meaa-media/code-of-ethics/. Muir, R. (2020, June 5). Out of the darkness: Policing and the death of George Floyd . The Police Foundation [Blog post]. Retrieved September 2, 2020, from http://www.police-foundation.org.uk/2020/06/policing-andthe-death-of-george-floyd/.

268

K. Clifford

Office of Police Integrity, Victoria. (2012b). Review of the investigation of deaths associated with police contact [Issues paper]. Melbourne: Office of Police Integrity, Victoria. Pantti, M. (2010). The value of emotion: An examination of television journalists’ notions on emotionality. European Journal of Communication, 25 (2), 168–181. Pennell, B. (2017, March). Police methods: The siege at Adjungbilly. Australian Police Journal , 6–41. Petersen, J. (2011). Murder, the media, and the politics of public feelings: Remembering Matthew Shepard and James Byrd Jr. Bloomington, IN: Indiana University Press. Porter, R. (2008, December 13). The trauma of killing someone never goes. Herald Sun. Retrieved December 15, 2008, from http://www.news.com.au/ heraldsun/story/024792275-286200.html. Rajendran, R. (2004). Told nervous shock: Has the pendulum swung in favour of recovery by television viewers? Deakin Law Review, 9 (2), 731–757. Rentschler, C. A. (2010). Trauma training and the reparative work of journalism. Cultural Studies, 24 (4), 447–477. Richards, I. (2009). Managing the margins: How journalism reports the vulnerable. Asia Pacific Media Educator, 1(19), 15–22. Ricketson, M., & Wake, A. (2019, March 6). Media companies on notice over traumatised journalists after landmark court decision. The Conversation. Retrieved July 21, 2020, from https://theconversation.com/media-compan ies-on-notice-over-traumatised-journalists-after-landmark-court-decision112766. Rigby, B. (2020, August 12). Annika Smethurst takes sabbatical from industry due to ‘heavy toll’ of AFP raid. Mumbrella. Retrieved August 12, 2020, from https://mumbrella.com.au/annika-smethurst-takes-sabbatical-from-ind ustry-due-to-heavy-toll-of-afp-raid-638430. Schudson, M. (2018). Why journalism still matters. Cambridge: Polity Press. Shapiro, B. (1995, April 3). One violent crime. The Nation, pp. 1, 445–452. Sherman, L. W. (2020). Evidence-based policing and fatal police shootings: Promise, problems and prospects. The ANNALS of the American Academy of Political and Social Science, 687 (1), 8–26. Shircore, M. (2006). Police liability for negligent investigations: When will a duty of care arise? Deakin Law Review, 11(1), 33–62. Shircore, M. (2012). Shoot first establish liability later: The duty of care owed to mentally ill persons. Journal of the Australasian Law Teachers Association, 5 (1–2), 255–263.

6 Framing Effects and Changing Media Practices

269

Silvester, J. (1994, November 6). Shootings—Police may sue state. The Sunday Age, p. 1. Simpson, R., & Coté, W. (2006). Covering violence: A guide to ethical reporting about victims and trauma (2nd ed.). New York: Columbia University Press. State of Victoria & Ors v Richards. (2010). VSCA 113. (Austl.). https://pin point.cch.com.au/document/legauUio1663371sl245905355/state-of-vic toria-ors-v-richards. Stroud, M. (2019). Thin blue lie: The failure of high-tech policing. New York: Metropolitan Books, Henry Holt and Company. Tait, S. (2011). Bearing witness, journalism and moral responsibility. Media, Culture and Society, 33(8), 1220–1235. Taylor, L. (2020). The Guardian’s role in the Australian mediascape. Australian Journalism Review, 42(1), 13–22. Teresa Klein and Ors v The State of New South Wales. (2005). NSWSC 1341. (Austl.). http://www8.austlii.edu.au/cgi-bin/viewdoc/au/cases/nsw/ NSWSC/2005/1341.html. ‘The Guns of Adjungbilly—Part 1’. (2005, September 12). Australian Story [Television broadcast]. Sydney, NSW: ABC TV. Tulloch, J. (2008). Culture and risk. In J. O. Zinn (Ed.), Social theories of risk and uncertainty: An introduction (pp. 138–167). Oxford: Blackwell Publishing. Tumarkin, M. (2005). Traumascapes: The power and fate of places transformed by tragedy. Melbourne, VIC: Melbourne University Press. Van Maanen, J. (1980). Beyond account: The personal impact of police shootings. Annals of the American Academy of Political and Social Science, 452, 145–156. Visentin, L. (2016, June 24). ‘In a way I feel sorry for them’: Adrian Salter on the police officers involved in his son’s death. The Sydney Morning Herald . Retrieved July 31, 2019, from https://www.smh.com.au/national/nsw/ina-way-i-feel-sorry-for-them-adrian-salter-on-the-police-officers-involved-inhis-sons-death-20160624-gpqz3y.html. Wahl-Jorgensen, K. (2019a, June 25). Intimacy, emotion, and journalism. Oxford Research Encyclopedia of communication. Retrieved November 27, 2019, from https://oxfordre.com/communication/view/10.1093/acrefore/ 9780190228613.001.0001/acrefore-9780190228613-e-823. Wahl-Jorgensen, K. (2019b). Emotions, media and politics. Cambridge: Polity Press. Wahl-Jorgensen, K. (2019c, July–September). Questioning the ideal of the public sphere: The emotional turn. Social Media + Society, 5 (3), 1–3.

270

K. Clifford

Wardle, C. (2006). “IT COULD HAPPEN TO YOU”: The moves towards “personal” and “societal” narratives in newspaper coverage of child murder, 1930–2000. Journalism Studies, 7 (4), 515–533. Wild, K. (2018). Waiting for Elijah. Brunswick, Victoria: Scribe Publications. Wilding, D., Fray, P., Molitorisz, S., & McKewon, E. (2018). The impact of digital platforms on news and journalistic content. Sydney, NSW: Centre for Media Transition, University of Technology Sydney. Williams, T., & Smith, M. (2018, June 28). $16 million vs. $4: In fatal police shootings, payouts vary widely. The New York Times. Retrieved July 23, 2019, from https://www.nytimes.com/2018/06/28/us/police-shootings-pay outs.html. YZ (a pseudonym) v The Age Company Limited . (2019). VCC 148. (Austl.). http://www.austlii.edu.au/cgi-bin/viewdoc/au/cases/vic/VCC/2019/148. html?context=1;query=defamation;mask_path=. Zalewski and Anor v. Turcarolo [1995] VicRp 76; [1995] 2 VR 562 (1994, July 1). (Austl.). http://www.austlii.edu.au/cgi-bin/viewdoc/au/cases/vic/VicRp/ 1995/76.html. Zelizer, B. (2017). What journalism could be. Cambridge, UK: Polity Press.

7 Conclusion

In their landmark work on policing, media and social issues—Policing the Crisis: Mugging, the State and Law and Order —Hall, Critcher, Jefferson, Clarke, and Roberts (1978/2013) noted how the practical pressures of news journalism and the professional imperatives towards ‘objectivity’ and ‘impartiality’ have historically resulted in the over-accessing of individuals in “powerful and privileged institutional positions” as preferred news sources (p. 61). The traditional reliance on these ‘primary definers’ of news has, over time, raised concerns about the extent to which police in particular control the flow of information about crime and justicerelated matters and how they “frame a great percentage of narratives about law and order and policing” (McGovern & Lee, 2010, p. 459). A study by McGovern and Lee (2010), for example, found that 67 per cent of all crime-related stories in metropolitan daily newspapers over a one-month period in Sydney, Australia, were attributable to police media releases. Moreover, when newspaper reporters used the content of these media releases, they tended to do so verbatim, publishing them as objective news (Lee & McGovern, 2014). © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 K. Clifford, Policing, Mental Illness and Media, Palgrave Studies in Crime, Media and Culture, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-61490-4_7

271

272

K. Clifford

Findings like these have reinforced the popular and persistent notion that police are the dominant party in the police-media relationship. While there is some element of truth to this, there is of course a notable exception to be found in the news media coverage of controversial and contentious police actions, such as the use of lethal force in police operations involving marginalised or vulnerable individuals. In these instances, the police version of events is not always faithfully replicated in news discourse, without complication or counter-frame. This is not to say that police interpretations of their encounters with publics have never otherwise been questioned—as this study shows, they most certainly have—but rather that their definitions of critical incidents involving the use of force are now able to be more routinely “challenged by a much larger, interactive audience in publicly accessible online social spaces” (Schneider, 2016, p. 21). In other words, the contemporary media environment is “now infinitely more complex and accordingly more difficult for an agency such as the police to control” in spite of their sustained efforts to do so (Mawby, 2001, p. 267). This raises the prospect that police can find themselves as vulnerable to mediated representations of their work—as the subjects of criticism and negative press—as they can be benefited by it (e.g. in helping to solve crimes). When a vulnerable member of the public is killed at the hands of the state, it is only natural that questions are asked about the behaviour and conduct of the police officers and others involved. The logic behind the framing of these events and the public outrage that follows in their wake is understandable: police are, after all, meant to be the ‘protectors of society’ and custodians of public safety. When they fail in that enterprise—making publics distrustful and fearful of them—in the minds of many, they fail the communities they are meant to serve. As Geller and Scott (1992) note: Given that the highest calling of police duty is to protect life, a sense that something has gone wrong is appropriate, even if the death proves to have been legally justifiable. Many are left to wonder whether there was not some other way the situation could have been resolved… (p. vii)

7 Conclusion

273

For this reason, when they do occur, fatal mental health crisis interventions often attract considerable attention and legal scrutiny, as well as public debate over what is considered the reasonable use of force by police. But when it comes to coverage in mainstream news media, the complexities of these encounters are not always fully explored and not all fatal mental health crisis interventions are treated equally in terms of the extent of the coverage they receive. As a result, some events will continue to be long remembered after the person’s death, while others will fade from the public’s memory. The reasons for this are numerous and well-documented, although “the resulting disparities are, ultimately, arbitrary” (Allsop, 2020). Sometimes, it can simply depend on whatever else was happening on that particular news day. In the case of the deaths highlighted in this study, those stories that have persisted have frequently done so by virtue of their profile and, commonly, the widespread publication and broadcast of news visuals of the event, which have become symbolic of these rare, but deadly encounters with police. In the contemporary mediascape, this has been spurred on by the mediated visibility of policing itself, aided by technological advances and emerging (counter)surveillance and mobile media practices. It has also arguably been bolstered by the increased sharing with media organisations of the visual evidence presented in coronial and legal contexts, and the repurposing of these materials as news content. This has made critical incidents of this kind harder to ignore, even in the information overload of the 24/7 news cycle and its increasingly algorithmic-driven engagement with media audiences (see Clifford & White, 2017; Goldsmith, 2010; Thompson, 2005; Walsh & O’Connor, 2019). But this salience in itself can be problematic for the ways in which it can give rise to false impressions that such events occur far more frequently than they actually do. Research confirms that news media coverage of police use of force incidents can increase negative attitudes towards the police (Graziano, 2019; Kaminski & Jefferis, 1998; Weitzer, 2002). News depictions of controversial police use of lethal force responses to individuals in psychiatric crisis in particular contribute to how the public views police culture and mental illness more generally, and whether these critical incidents are considered typical or aberrations of contemporary policing practices

274

K. Clifford

(Hazelton, 1997). As Muir (2020) explains: “Every single encounter between a police officer and a citizen leaves a trace”. Fatal mental health crisis interventions in Australia may be relatively rare occurrences in the full spectrum of police-citizen encounters, but when they do occur, they leave imprints on not only public trust in police, but also the perceived legitimacy of police and the public’s willingness to cooperate and collaborate with them (Herrington, Clifford, Lawrence, Ryle, & Pope, 2009; Myhill & Beak, 2008; Novak, 2009). More concerning is the way in which they can also have some bearing on the tenor of future interactions between police officers and people with mental health problems, particularly where a lack of transparency and fairness on the part of police is perceived or opportunities for publics to scrutinise police actions have not been properly afforded. Police legitimacy, Muir (2020) elaborates, is therefore something that needs “to be renewed constantly, every hour of every day, in the practice of police officers and in the way they relate to members of the public”. But police have historically not always been good at grasping how they are perceived as relating (or not) to the publics they serve. There are many examples of the injustice felt by those who are denied or suffer a delay in receiving a reliable and meaningful official narrative or dialogue about how a loved one died during a police operation or while in police custody. “In the aftermath of a use-of-force death at the hands of the state”, writes McIntosh (2016), “the bare harm that comes with the loss of a loved one will often combine with a moral harm arising from a subjective belief or suspicion that the death was caused or contributed to by wrongdoing (or misrecognition) on the part of the state” (p. 151). At the same time there are, equally, examples of how the opposite can be true when this communication is provided (see McIntosh, 2016). Unfortunately, this is not always achieved through the formal mechanisms available to families bereaved by the police shooting of a mentally ill relative—even where this is their expected outcome. The coronial process, for example, can sometimes be an unsatisfying experience for families especially. As McIntosh (2016) explains: An inquest’s conclusions and any recommendations may be ignored, and bad practices and the systemic causes of insult and injury will often

7 Conclusion

275

remain. Further, the potential for inquests to fulfil meaningful ends cannot always be guaranteed through the laws and practices which frame inquests. (p. 157)

Or, as the Deputy State Coroner Jan Stevenson put it in her findings into the death of Paul Klein: “Courts don’t always give justice. Courts give law” (Inquest into the death of Paul Simon Klein, 1999, p. 9). While there is violence as defined by the law, there are also other forms of structural and symbolic violence that can leave people feeling like casualties of the system. There have, of course, been some signs of progress in the relationship between policing and mental illness, and its mediated representations, including a stronger police attentiveness to mental ill-health among those within its own ranks, which can only contribute positively to improving police attitudes towards mental illness in the field. The mental health consumer panels and simulated crisis scenarios and role plays embedded within specialised police mental health training programs, such as that offered by the NSW Police Force Mental Health Intervention Team (MHIT) discussed in Chapter 3, also contribute to bridging the gap between representation and lived experience by forging mutual understandings of the challenges and realities of both contemporary policing and the experience of living with mental illness. Citizen academies and ride-along programs have further been advanced as instruments through which to enable publics to better grasp the complexities and realities of being a police officer. These inclusive activities can “serve the critical function of making law enforcement policy and practice transparent” (International Association of Chiefs of Police & COPS Office, 2012, p. 18). On this point, however, others maintain that for proper transparency to be achieved, police leadership must be prepared to acknowledge the loud and growing demands of publics to “move beyond the reflexive refusal to engage in meaningful review of police uses of force” when they do occur (Stoughton, 2014). Although police may not use force in response to mental health callouts as frequently as perceived (in Australia at least), this “should not insulate their choices” from genuine and independent review (Stoughton, 2014). This requires that shifts in

276

K. Clifford

the attitude and approach towards police interactions with mentally ill individuals in the community be embedded within the ethos and cultural structures of police agencies. Such reforms must be promoted as professional ideals that are championed throughout the police hierarchy—from senior management through to frontline police officers. It also points towards a need to reconsider the investigatory process related to critical incidents of this kind. The realisation of these shifts in professional practice is obviously predicated on a number of defining factors, not least of all resourcing and legislative constraints; the compatibility between enhanced mental health training and policing protocols and policy development, interagency cooperation and collaboration; and the cultivation of valid and reliable performance measures that are not necessarily reliant on statistical correlatives and body counts. The adoption of these recommended measures should not be for politicians and bureaucrats alone to decide. Such decision-making should also take account of the lived experiences of mental health consumers and their families and carers, as well as those of frontline police officers, particularly where these stakeholders have personal testimonies to offer in relation to the tensions between the subjective and objective experiences of mental health crisis interventions and their risk interpretations. As Palmer (1995) has previously suggested, many of the major inquiries into contemporary policing practices and mental illness proceed on the assumption that “internal changes will right the wrongs” (p. 55). This often results in calls for more from police with no space given to raising “how the community might enter into open debate about the forms and practises of policing within the boundaries or principles of a liberal democracy” (Palmer, 1995, p. 55).

Easily Identified Problems, Harder Found Solutions The impact and influence of media reports about critical incidents in this context is a legitimate concern and ongoing consideration for police agencies, since it can destabilise any endeavours to build and maintain police legitimacy. In short, contrary to popular opinion, media still

7 Conclusion

277

matters. This is because it is through news media coverage that the public’s knowledge of policing—especially high-profile use of force incidents—is still primarily constructed (Clifford, 2010, 2012, 2013). For some people, this may be their only source of information about such events as well as the (often limited) insights this coverage can offer about the nuances and complexities of policing practice and the response to mental health crises in the community. This presents certain challenges for the ‘image work’ of police that are unlikely to abate anytime soon, given the growing number of touchpoints through which their encounters with citizens are recorded, and the increasing demands on police resources as first responders to mental health-related incidents in the community. The actions of frontline police officers are now routinely captured by in-car video cameras (otherwise known as ‘dashcams’), CCTV systems in custodial and public environments, and on the street through bodyworn cameras and audio-video recording devices on Tasers (i.e. Taser cams). This is not to mention the smartphones of bystanders and the technical gadgetry of citizen journalists and activists; the proliferation of which has made law enforcement encounters with the public what Haggerty and Sandhu (2014) call ‘filmable moments’ (p. 10). Media audiences, too, are no longer passive consumers. They regularly serve as routine sources of news through the use of amateur footage in stories about law enforcement and the police use of force. While we have not yet seen the proliferation of this style of footage in Australia to the same degree as in other countries (e.g. United States), it and the circulation of CCTV images of police-citizen encounters have certainly become more common in news stories about law enforcement. Recording the police, as an inverted form of surveillance (or sousveillance as it is otherwise known), can range from passive or hidden observation to the spontaneous image capture which characterised George Holliday’s video of the beating of Rodney King by Los Angeles Police Department officers back in 1991, but is now more reminiscent of the smartphone recording of the fatal shooting of Danukul Mokmool by police outside Sydney’s Central Station in 2017. It can also constitute the “premeditated and targeted, overt, and (sometimes) obstructionist activism” of citizens, such as those

278

K. Clifford

involved in the organised copwatching movement, prolific in the United States (Newell, 2019, p. 62). Research shows that police have become increasingly attuned to this politics of surveillance and the ways in which “the routine presence of cameras is changing the dynamics of policing on the ground” as well as the institution’s ability to control accounts of what happened during police-citizen encounters (Haggerty & Sandhu, 2014, p. 11). The work on how police officers understand and perceive the impact of this mediated visibility on their everyday duties demonstrates “anxieties based in the perception that bystander video foregrounds de-contextualized police-civilian relations, often intended to make officers look bad or hold them accountable (rightly or wrongly) for misconduct” (Newell, 2019, p. 70). These anxieties are not simply a product of the times; as this study has shown, they have a deep-rooted history that stretches beyond the rise of social media and our contemporary surveillance culture to policing’s relationship with traditional news media, and its suspicions of it (see also Clifford & White, 2017). Of course, social media and other online networking platforms have introduced certain affordances, compared to traditional media, that now enable publics to circumvent formal investigatory and coronial processes—as well as conventional media channels—to raise awareness of volatile encounters with citizens and to call police to account for their actions. The speed, reach and efficiency with which this information can be shared, and lesser known critical incidents brought to public attention, presents a challenge to not only traditional conceptions of policing and mental illness, but also the public’s ability to judge the quality and veracity of this content, and professional news media’s authority. The act of bearing witness to these events is now “driven by a remarkably variant environment” wherein conventional journalists are no longer always central to determining what counts as media witnessing (Zelizer, 2017, p. 42). Evidence of this can be found in the legions of videos capturing police operations and the use of force, which now circulate freely on the Internet—to the extent that American writer and journalism educator Jelani Cobb has described them as a ‘genre’ in their own right, especially in relation to their portrayal of the taking of black lives by police in the United States (cited in Dart Center for Journalism & Trauma, 2020). A

7 Conclusion

279

cursory search of the phrase ‘police shootings’ on video-sharing website, YouTube, reveals the ubiquity of this footage. Some of these videos have been viewed thousands of times. Others have climbed into the millions, especially where the video has been reproduced on the YouTube channels of mainstream media organisations, which are still often considered a more trustworthy source of evidence about police use of force than social media outlets (Miethe, Venger, & Lieberman, 2019). The New York Times’ publication of the video depicting the killing of unarmed man, Walter Scott, in South Carolina in 2015, for example, has now been viewed close to 3 million times. The video on the ABC News YouTube channel showing mental health therapist Charles Kinsey being shot by police in 2016, while trying to retrieve a patient with autism who had wandered from his group home, has been viewed in excess of 4 million times. These videos stand as testament to the ways in which “the eyewitnessing activity that was prevalent in journalism’s early days and so central to its sense of self today depends more on disembodied technology and user-generated content than on journalists per se” (Zelizer, 2017, p. 6). Out of this, however, have sprung more lateral strategies through which professional journalism has sought to continue to hold state power to account. This includes the development of opensource databases tracking civilian deaths from police-involved shootings or Taser use—data that police themselves have been notoriously poor at collecting. But as Palmer (2018) notes, while the products of this journalism—in all its multiplicities—are hypervisible, “that does not mean that the processes of journalism are transparent to the public” (p. 195). Much of journalism, Zelizer (2017) explains, “takes place out of the public eye” (p. 4). Even to citizens who cooperate with journalists, “reporting and editing processes often remain largely opaque” (Palmer, 2018, p. 195). The same could be said to a large degree about policing, its relationship to media and in managing mental health-related crises in the community. Public knowledge and understanding of the politics and practices that sit behind these encounters and their products or outcomes is important since the mediated representations of fatal mental health crisis interventions otherwise constitute “abstracted reformulations” of these events

280

K. Clifford

(Van Maanen, 1980, p. 147). This perpetuates the conflict- and eventdriven framing of the stories that are told about them in traditional news media, which can obscure or distract us from the other conversations we should—and need to—be having as a society about policing’s role in managing mental health crises, including what measures need to be to put in place to prevent these interventions from ending badly (or from even needing to occur). People have increasingly put their faith in the idea that visual surveillance will stop the misuse of force during police encounters with citizens, but there is a risk that this evidence will result in little more than a sea of overplayed videos, which do more to dishonour the people whose lives have been lost than to prevent future outcomes of a similar nature. While these videos may serve as catalysts for the expression of public discontent about particular instances of police use of force, they do not necessarily prompt longer-term change or sustainable risk communications about such matters between police and publics. For that, systemic reform is required. In the context of fatal mental health crisis interventions, this necessitates the consideration of matters beyond policing alone. It calls for an appraisal of the state of the mental health system—both nationally and in local regions—and the reasons why people with mental illness come into contact with police in the first place, but especially when in crisis. It also invites the question of why there seems to be an ever-widening gap and misalignment between police protocols and legal standards compared to the public’s expectations of policing, and how these imparities might be addressed. A better sense of the logics that drive professional news media practices, and social media too, is invaluable in this respect, because it can reveal something about the institutional policies, social processes and power structures that provide the conditions through which such elisions and silences are perpetuated in public debate and the mediated representation of these events—even down to questions of why fatal encounters between police and mentally ill citizens are so frequently framed as crime or law and order news stories rather than public health-related news narratives. Simpler may often be easier when it comes to information delivery in media, but news stories about fatal mental health crisis interventions are intrinsically bound to the human experience which, as we know, is rarely so readily and neatly packaged.

7 Conclusion

281

Of course, it would be naïve to assume that news media coverage alone determines public attitudes towards policing, or mental illness for that matter. There are a variety of factors that can influence this—e.g. neighbourhood characteristics, cultural differences, news consumption habits and lived experience (Graziano, 2019). Public perceptions of the police use of lethal force in mental health crisis interventions can also be greatly influenced by the climate and mood of the times. For example, the exposure of publics to events such as fatal mental health crisis interventions can be more intensely felt when policing is already in the media and political spotlight for all the wrong reasons, such as the present moment we find ourselves in with the negative press about police use of force in encounters complicated by factors other than mental illness (e.g. race). On the flip side, in the period covered by this study, we have seen substantive changes in societal attitudes towards mental illness and the willingness of people to speak out about their personal experiences of living with mental health problems (although, sadly, this has not resulted in the elimination of stigma altogether). During this time, there has also been a diminution in the prevalence of the sensationalist language once commonly seen in mental health-related news and vividly demonstrated through the news framing analysis of the coverage of the Paul Klein incident in Chapter 5. History has also shown that constructive working relationships between police and media—in the interests of achieving positive mental health outcomes—are possible, as is more contextualised news reporting about mental illness and its intersections with crime and the law. All of this is another way of illustrating how the relationship between policing, mental illness and media is both complex and contested, but not unchangeable. These relationships do not operate in a bubble. Policing and media environments especially are subject to constant flux and innovation, even simply in the technologies they use, which can impact the readiness for change as well as the contexts in which these professionals function and the demands made of them. Still, it remains the curious nature of news reporting that, for the most part, it can become intensely interested in controversies of this kind, and the conflicts these critical incidents generate, but less so in their resolution or in helping to uncover potential pathways forward. There are, as we have

282

K. Clifford

established, a variety of reasons for this, but when it comes to appropriate frontline responses to mental health crises in the community, it may also be because while the problems are well understood, real and lasting solutions to them are harder to see. While acknowledging the value of engagement with these broader themes, this book has not sought to resolve all of the issues related to policing, mental illness and the use of lethal force. Its motivations have been far more modest; seeking instead to start a conversation by testing whether the debate about fatal mental health crisis interventions can really be broken down into the simple binaries that mainstream media often present us—of ‘victims’ and ‘villains’, of those ‘at risk’ and those who pose ‘a risk’, the polarised positions of ‘pro’ or ‘anti’ police—and questioning whether there are more complex dynamics and tensions, or a continuum of positions, that should instead be explored and accepted. These remain unsettled affairs, but just as news media professionals seek to hold police accountable for their use of force in mental health crisis interventions, so too they need to be prepared to account for the editorial decisions and framing practices they participate in as part of their coverage of these events and the ‘second wounds’ this can give rise to— for all involved in the content creation, communication and critiquing process. This is not to suggest that news media professionals should be solely responsible for public literacy about the complexities of police interactions with mentally ill individuals in crisis, and the significant personal impacts associated with these events where they end in fatal outcomes. There is no question that the facts of the stories need to be reported. But as Kesic, Ducat, and Thomas (2011) argue, there also specifically needs to be “much more emphasis placed on contextualising these messages” (p. 10). Balancing public interest with the potential harms of mediated representation has not been a primary concern for social networking platforms and other digital giants (although the tide is slowly turning on this). Certainly, it has not been something they have proactively sought to consider without some external encouragement or impetus. While it may have once been the distinguishing feature to which professional journalism could lay claim, even news media’s ability to strike the right balance in publishing and broadcasting has started to come undone

7 Conclusion

283

under the demands and pressures of the contemporary mediascape (Donovan & boyd, 2021). As Hess and Waller (2020) write: “Journalism is facing unprecedented challenges to maintain its hold on the spaces where quality debate can take place on matters of public interest” (p. 586). The lines between framing practices that adhere to the fourth estate ideals of conventional news journalism—to act as a guardian of the public interest, a watchdog on the activities of the state and a facilitator of democratic debate—and those which, even in pursuing these ends, manage to inadvertently produce social harms or injustices of their own, are also continually being renegotiated and redrawn. Some aspects of this fall outside the purview of mainstream media—for example, where key stakeholders to these events, such as police officers and coroners, are bound by legal convention and institutional protocols not to respond to the ‘truth-claims’ made in the press and on social media or published as part of news editorials by media professionals themselves. This highlights how fraught the mediation of witnessing can be (Allan, 2013) and the limits that exist in professional journalism’s own capacity to ‘bear witness’ to these critical incidents. It is therefore misguided and misleading to presuppose that there is necessarily a ‘right’ way to report on these traumatic events, since all news is necessarily evaluative and partially dependent on those who interpret it as well as the constraints under which it is produced. Different journalists will bring different expertise to their reporting as well as divergent views on the relevance of particular news sources to the story. But in recognising that journalism can occupy multiple positions, is there still not scope for us to ask what we believe constitutes socially responsible or constructive news reporting about the relationship between policing and mental illness? Or, more to the point, whether the structural barriers and systemic faultlines that constrain the ability of journalists to produce this kind of reflexive communication— and achieve the transparency that it requires, as is increasingly demanded by publics—should be put under the microscope? Case studies such as the Paul Klein incident, and the many other fatal mental health crisis interventions featured in this book, offer a window onto these complexities, pointing to not only the negative dimensions of news media practice but also its enabling aspects, including the ways in which news frames can bend and flex over time and individuals can

284

K. Clifford

harness the power of media as a platform by which to ‘speak back’ to mediated misrepresentation, misinformation and injustice, and to advocate for change. Engaging with these individual stories from our journalistic past—along with the increasing visibility afforded by the multiplicity of media practices and advances in technology we regularly encounter today—prompts us to make a fresh appraisal of the relationship between policing, mental illness and media, especially the uses and meanings of trauma discourses and images. The ethical quandaries presented by the latter are concerns that professional news media organisations—and publics—have not yet sufficiently grappled with, despite the “journalistic emphasis on images that typically takes place during times of crisis” (Zelizer, 2017, p. 212). What world views on mental health and policing do these news stories and their framing devices shape and inform? What role do we expect police to play in society and in managing mental health crises in the community? What else can and should we be doing in terms of people’s experiences of mental illness and in preventing individuals from slipping through the cracks in the system into crisis? What responsibility, if any, does traditional news media have in helping to facilitate these conversations to foster informed publics and democratic decision-making processes and debate? What is our own ethical imperative and responsibility for engaging with these narratives? For its place in this landscape, Policing, Mental Illness and Media has attempted to challenge the conventional thinking on what constitutes socially responsible communications and sensitive news reporting of fatal mental health crisis interventions to consider the responsibility and vulnerability of, and potential news framing effects on, all key stakeholders involved in these critical incidents—police included. In doing so, it has sought to better understand the private experiences and expressions of mediated trauma and highlight the ways in which media (mis)representations of these situated experiences can sometimes serve to replicate their traumatic effects in the form of what Shapiro and others have so aptly termed ‘second wounds’. It is hoped that this critical engagement with the framing of fatal encounters between police and mentally ill individuals in crisis has shown what critical insights into our

7 Conclusion

285

present-day concerns can be found through a deeper appreciation of the past and the value of lived experience.

References Allan, S. (2013). Citizen witnessing. Cambridge: Polity Press. Allsop, J. (2020, August 26). Jacob Blake, Breonna Taylor, and the arbitrariness of the police-shooting news cycle. Columbia Journalism Review. Retrieved August 27, 2020, from https://www.cjr.org/the_media_today/jacob_blake_ shooting_breonna_taylor.php. Clifford, K. (2010). The thin blue line of mental health in Australia. Police Practice & Research: An International Journal, 11(4), 355–370. Clifford, K. (2012). The vulnerable thin blue line: Representations of police use of force in the media. In I. Bartkowiak-Théron & N. L. Asquith (Eds.), Policing vulnerability (pp. 101–114). Annandale: Federation Press. Clifford, K. (2013). Mental health crisis interventions and the politics of police use of deadly force. In D. Chappell (Ed.), Policing and the mentally ill: International perspectives (pp. 171–195). Boca Raton, FL: CRC Press/Taylor & Francis. Clifford, K., & White, R. (2017). Media and crime: Content, context and consequence. South Melbourne: Oxford University Press. Dart Center for Journalism & Trauma. (2020, July 15). Picturing black deaths: A conversation with Emily Bernard and Jelani Cobb [Video]. Retrieved August 19, 2020, from https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_ekOLGyid-o. Donovan, J., & boyd, d. (2021). Stop the presses? Moving from strategic silence to strategic amplification in a networked media ecosystem. American Behavioral Scientist, 65 (2), 333-350. Geller, W. A., & Scott, M. (1992). Deadly force: What we know: A practitioner’s desk reference on police-involved shootings. Washington, DC: Police Executive Research Forum. Goldsmith, A. J. (2010). Policing’s new visibility. The British Journal of Criminology, 50 (5), 914–934. Graziano, L. M. (2019). News media and perceptions of police: A state-of-theart review. Policing: An International Journal, 42(2), 209–225. Haggerty, K. D., & Sandhu, A. (2014). The police crisis of visibility. IEEE Technology and Society Magazine, 33(2), 9–12.

286

K. Clifford

Hall, S., Critcher, C., Jefferson, T., Clarke, J., & Roberts, B. (1978/2013). Policing the crisis: Mugging, the state and law and order (2nd ed.). Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan. Hazelton, M. (1997). Reporting mental health: A discourse analysis of mental health-related news in two Australian newspapers. Australian and New Zealand Journal of Mental Health Nursing, 6 (2), 73–89. Herrington, V., Clifford, K., Lawrence, P. F., Ryle, S., & Pope, R. (2009). The impact of the NSW Police Force Mental Health Intervention Team: Final evaluation report. Sydney, NSW: Charles Sturt University Centre for Inland Health and Australian Graduate School of Policing. Hess, K., & Waller, L. (2020). Moral compass: How a small-town newspaper used silence in a hyper-charged controversy. Journalism, 21(4), 574–590. Inquest into the death of Paul Simon Klein. (1999, December 21). NSW State Coroner’s Court, Wollongong. International Association of Chiefs of Police & COPS Office. (2012). Emerging use of force issues: Balancing public and officer safety. Washington, DC: Office of Community Oriented Policing Services, U.S. Department of Justice. Kaminski, R., & Jefferis, E. (1998). The effect of a violent televised arrest on public perceptions of the police. Policing, 21(4), 683–706. Kesic, D., Ducat, L. V., & Thomas, S. D. M. (2011). Using force: Australian newspaper depictions of contacts between the police and persons experiencing mental illness. Australian Psychologist, 47 (4), 213–223. Lee, M., & McGovern, A. (2014). Policing and media: Public relations, simulations and communications. London and New York: Routledge. Mawby, R. C. (2001). Promoting the police? The rise of police image work. Criminal Justice Matters, 43(1), 44–45. McGovern, A., & Lee, M. (2010). ‘Cop[ying] it sweet’: Police media units and the making of news. The Australian and New Zealand Journal of Criminology, 43(3), 444–464. McIntosh, S. (2016). Taken lives matter: Open justice and recognition in inquests into deaths at the hands of the state. International Journal of Law in Context, 12(2), 141–161. Miethe, T. D., Venger, O., & Lieberman, J. D. (2019). Police use of force and its video coverage: An experimental study of the impact of media source and content on public perceptions. Journal of Criminal Justice, 60, 35–46. Muir, R. (2020, June 5). Out of the darkness: Policing and the death of George Floyd . The Police Foundation [Blog post]. Retrieved September 2, 2020, from http://www.police-foundation.org.uk/2020/06/policing-andthe-death-of-george-floyd/.

7 Conclusion

287

Myhill, A., & Beak, K. (2008). Public confidence in police. London: National Policing Improvement Agency. Newell, B. C. (2019). Context, visibility and control: Police work and the contested objectivity of bystander video. New Media & Society, 21(1), 60– 76. Novak, K. J. (2009). Reasonable officers, public perceptions, and policy challenges. Criminology & Public Policy, 8(1), 153–161. Palmer, D. (1995). Excessive force: Beyond police shootings: Use of force and governing the Victorian police force. Alternative Law Journal, 20 (2), 53–56. Palmer, R. (2018). Becoming the news: How ordinary people respond to the media spotlight. New York: Columbia University Press. Schneider, C. J. (2016). Policing and social media: Social control in an era of new media. Lanham, MD: Lexington Books. Stoughton, S. W. (2014, December 12). How police training contributes to avoidable deaths. The Atlantic. Retrieved August 3, 2020, from https:// www.theatlantic.com/national/archive/2014/12/police-gun-shooting-tra ining-ferguson/383681/. Thompson, J. B. (2005). The new visibility. Theory, Culture & Society, 22(6), 31–51. Van Maanen, J. (1980). Beyond account: The personal impact of police shootings. Annals of the American Academy of Political and Social Science, 452, 145–156. Walsh, J. P., & O’Connor, C. (2019). Social media and policing: A review of recent research. Sociology Compass, 13(1), 1–14. Weitzer, R. (2002). Incidents of police misconduct and public opinion. Journal of Criminal Justice, 20, 397–408. Zelizer, B. (2017). What journalism could be. Cambridge, UK: Polity Press.

References

A Current Affair. (1999, September 30). [Television broadcast]. Sydney, NSW: Channel Nine. ACEM. (2018, February). Waiting times in the emergency department for people with acute mental and behavioural conditions. West Melbourne: Australasian College for Emergency Medicine. Retrieved August 21, 2019, from https:// acem.org.au/News/Feb-2018/ACEM-mental-health-care-access-block. Ade, J. (Editor/Story Producer), Ou, E., & Cahana, K. (Director/Cinematographer). (2019). A different kind of force—Policing mental illness [Documentary]. New York: NBC Left Field. Retrieved August 7, 2019, from https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DnOLvKEYIQI. Agnew-Ryan, D. (1998, June 2). Blood-stained body ‘blasted across page’. [Letter to the Editor]. Illawarra Mercury, p. 10. Allan, S. (2013). Citizen witnessing. Cambridge: Polity Press. Allen, R., & Nairn, R. G. (1997). Media depiction of mental illness: An analysis of the use of dangerousness. Australian and New Zealand Journal of Psychiatry, 31(3), 375–381. Allsop, J. (2020, August 26). Jacob Blake, Breonna Taylor, and the arbitrariness of the police-shooting news cycle. Columbia Journalism Review. Retrieved August 27, 2020, from https://www.cjr.org/the_media_today/jacob_blake_ shooting_breonna_taylor.php. © The Editor(s) (if applicable) and The Author(s) 2021 K. Clifford, Policing, Mental Illness and Media, Palgrave Studies in Crime, Media and Culture, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-61490-4

289

290

References

Alpert, G. P. (1989). Police use of deadly force: The Miami experience. In R. G. Dunham & G. P. Alpert (Eds.), Critical issues in policing (pp. 480–496). Prospect Heights, IL: Waveland. Altheide, D. (2002). Creating fear: News and the construction of crisis. New York: Aldine De Gruyter. Amherst Community Television. (2010, March 30). CSSC encounters: Barbie Zelizer [Vodcast]. Amherst, MA: Amherst Community Television. Streamed online April 29, 2010, from http://204.213.244.104/Cablecast/Public/ Show.aspx?ChannelID=1&ShowID=5589. Amnesty International. (2006). USA: Amnesty International’s continuing concerns about taser use [AI Index: AMR 51/030/2006]. Amnesty International. Retrieved October 26, 2007, from http://www.amnesty.org/en/lib rary/info/AMR51/030/2006. Amnesty International. (2007, October 11). Amnesty International releases brief on U.S. tasers. Retrieved March 7, 2008, from http://www.amnesty.org.au/ news/comments/4439. Anasseril, E. D. (2004). Commentary: Decision-making by front line service providers—Attitudinal or contextual. Journal of the American Academy of Psychiatry and Law, 32(4), 386–389. Andrews, G., Hall, W., Teeson, M., & Henderson, S. (1999). The mental health of Australians. Canberra, ACT: Mental Health Branch, Australian Commonwealth Department of Health and Aged Care. Ariel, B., Farrar, W. A., & Sutherland, A. (2015). The effect of police bodyworn cameras on use of force and citizens’ complaints against the police: A randomized controlled trial. Journal of Quantitative Criminology, 31(3), 509–535. Ariel, B., Sutherland, A., Henstock, D., Young, J., Drover, P., Sykes, J., et al. (2016). Wearing body cameras increases assaults against officers and does not reduce police use of force: Results from a global mutli-site experiment. European Journal of Criminology, 13(6), 744–755. Ariel, B., Sutherland, A., Henstock, D., Young, J., Drover, P., Sykes, J., et al. (2017). ‘Contagious accountability’: A global multisite randomized controlled trial on the effect of police body-worn cameras on citizens’ complaints against the police. Criminal Justice and Behavior, 44 (2), 293– 316. ‘At the scene of the crime’. (2004, September 16). The Sydney Morning Herald , p. 16. Aubusson, K. (2019, May 29). Overburdened psychiatrists abandon ‘broken’ public system. The Sydney Morning Herald . Retrieved August

References

291

21, 2019, from https://www.smh.com.au/healthcare/overburdened-psychiatr ists-abandon-broken-public-system-20190528-p51s3j.html. Australian Bureau of Statistics. (1998). Mental health and wellbeing: Profile of adults, Australia, 1997 . Cat. No. 4326.0. Canberra, ACT: Australian Bureau of Statistics. Australian Bureau of Statistics. (2007). National survey of mental health and wellbeing: Summary of results, 2007 . Cat. No. 4326.0. Canberra, ACT: Australian Bureau of Statistics. Australian Bureau of Statistics. (2018). Australian demographic statistics, Dec 2017 . Cat. No. 3103.0. Canberra, ACT: Australian Bureau of Statistics. Australian Competition and Consumer Commission. (2020, July 31). Australian news media to negotiate payment with major digital platforms [Media Release]. Retrieved July 31, 2020, from https://www.accc.gov.au/ media-release/australian-news-media-to-negotiate-payment-with-major-dig ital-platforms. Australian Institute of Criminology. (2012, July 10). Police detainees and mental health [Media Release]. Retrieved March 15, 2015, from http://www.aic.gov. au/media/2012/july/20120710.html. Australian Institute of Criminology. (2013, May). Police shootings of people with a mental illness. Research in Practice No. 34. Canberra, ACT: Australian Government. Australian Institute of Health and Welfare. (2015). The health of Australia’s prisoners 2015. Cat. no. PHE 207. Canberra, ACT: AIHW. Australian Institute of Health and Welfare. (2016). Australian burden of disease study: Impact and causes of illness and death in Australia in 2011. Australian Burden of Disease Study series no. 3. BOD 4. Canberra, ACT: AIHW. Ba, B., & Grogger, J. (2018). The introduction of Tasers and police use of force: Evidence from the Chicago Police Department (NBER Working Paper No. 24202). Cambridge, MA: The National Bureau of Economic Research. Baker, B. (2012, November 20). Recent appellate coronial law decisions in Australia. Paper presentation. Asia Pacific Coroners’ Society Conference. Sydney, Australia. Retrieved August 30, 2020, from http://www.dcconfere nces.com.au/apcsc/pdf/Coronial_Paper-Baker.pdf. Baker, D. (2016). Researching deaths after police contact: Challenges and solutions. Journal of Criminological Research, Policy and Practice, 2(1), 15–27. Barak, G. (1994). Between the waves: Mass mediated themes of crime and justice. Social Justice, 21(3), 133–147. Barbour, B. (2010, March 12). The ombudsman and civil liberties: Working together to make things right. NSW Council for Civil Liberties lunch

292

References

address, NSW Parliament House, Sydney, Australia. Retrieved October 21, 2010, from http://www.ombo.nsw.gov.au/publication/PDF/speeches/ SP-NSW_CCL_12Mar10.pdf. Bardoel, J., & d’Haenens, L. (2004). Media responsibility and accountability: New conceptualizations and practices. Communications, 29 (1), 5–25. Barnhorst, A. (2019, April 26). The empty promise of suicide prevention. The New York Times. Retrieved May 22, 2019, from https://www.nytimes. com/2019/04/26/opinion/sunday/suicide-prevention.html?fbclid=IwAR25 B3IBlrnANYZ2YT_8oTpsQUDCVofxogUAjcjrhlw_U53mvzvSaL37ZFI. Barns, M. (2015, January 5). Are wearable police cameras a good idea? The Drum. Retrieved June 10, 2015, from http://www.abc.net.au/news/201501-05/barns-should-police-be-wearing-video-cameras/5997296. Barron, S. (2013). Police officer mental illness, suicide, and the effects of a policing organisation. In D. Chappell (Ed.), Policing and the mentally ill: International perspectives (pp. 247–279). Boca Raton, FL: CRC Press/Taylor & Francis. Barthes, R. (1982). Camera lucida: Reflections on photography. New York: Hill & Wang. Bartkowiak-Théron, I., & Asquith, N. L. (2017). Conceptual divides and practice synergies in law enforcement and public health: Some lessons from policing vulnerability in Australia. Policing & Society: An International Journal of Research and Policy, 27 (3), 276–288. Beck, J. C., White, K. A., & Gage, B. (1991). Emergency psychiatric assessment of violence. American Journal of Psychiatry, 148(11), 1562–1565. Beck, U. (1992). Risk society: Towards a new modernity. London: Sage. Beck, U. (1999). World risk society. Malden, MA: Polity Press. Beck, U. (2005). Power in the global age: A new global political economy. Cambridge: Polity Press. Beck, U. (2009). World at risk. Cambridge: Polity Press. Beckett, C. (2019, April 26). Why emotions are central to the future of journalism. Medium. Retrieved November 25, 2019, from https://med ium.com/@CharlieBeckett/why-emotions-are-central-to-the-future-of-jou rnalism-507472f15319. Beckett, C., & Deuze, M. (2016, July–September). On the role of emotion in the future of journalism. Social Media + Society, 2(3), 1–6. Belcher, J., & Al-Yaman, F. (2007). Prisoner health in Australia: Contemporary information collection and a way forward . Cat. No. PHE 94. Canberra, ACT: Australian Institute of Health and Welfare.

References

293

Bell, S., & Palmer-Conn, S. (2018). Suspicious minds: Police attitudes to mental ill health. International Journal of Law and Public Administration, 1(2), 25–40. Bennett, W. L. (2009). The press, power and public accountability. In S. Allan (Ed.), The Routledge companion to news and journalism (pp. 105–115). London and New York: Routledge. Bennett, W. L., & Segerberg, A. (2013). The logic of connective action: Digital media and the personalization of contentious politics. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. ‘Bereaved family wins right to sue’. (2005, December 24). Illawarra Mercury, p. 2. Berger, J. (1980). On looking. New York: First Vintage International. Berkowitz, D., & TerKeurst, J. V. (1999). Community as interpretive community: Rethinking the journalist-source relationship. Journal of Communication, 49 (3), 125–136. Biber, K. (2014). Inside Jill Meagher’s handbag: Looking at open justice. Alternative Law Journal, 39 (2), 73–77. Biber, K. (2019). In crime’s archive: The cultural afterlife of evidence. Abingdon, Oxon and New York, NY: Routledge. Bittner, E. (1967). Police discretion in emergency apprehension of mentally ill persons. Social Problems, 14 (3), 278–292. Blood, W., & Holland, K. (2004). Risky news, madness and public crisis: A case study of the reporting and portrayal of mental health and illness in the Australian press. Journalism, 5 (3), 323–342. Blood, R. W., Pirkis, J., & Francis, C. (2004). News and social policy: Reporting of suicide and mental illness. Agenda, 11(3), 273–287. Blood, R. W., Putnis, P., & Pirkis, J. (2002). Mental illness as violence: A news frame analysis of the reporting and portrayal of mental health and illness in Australian media. Australian Journal of Communication, 29 (2), 59–82. Blood, R. W., Tulloch, J., & Enders, M. (2000). Communication and reflexivity: Conversations about fear of crime. Australian Journal of Communication, 27 (3), 15–38. Bodkin, P. (2012a, October 10). Death by Taser. The Daily Telegraph, p. 3. Bodkin, P. (2012b, October 16). ‘Half a tonne of police officers’ piled on top of tasered Brazilian student. The Daily Telegraph, p. 7. Bodkin, P. (2012c, October 19). Taser cops ‘were brutal’. The Daily Telegraph, p. 9.

294

References

Bonkiewicz, L. A., Moyer, K., Magdanz, C., & Walsh, J. (2018). Keeping it REAL: Assisting individuals after a police-abated mental health crisis. Police Quarterly, 21(4), 486–508. ‘Boris, Brexit, and the Black Dog’. (2019, July 22). Q&A. Australian Broadcasting Corporation [Transcript of television broadcast]. Retrieved July 24, 2019, from https://www.abc.net.au/qanda/2019-22-07/11310416. Bradbury, J. F., Ireland, M., & Stasa, H. (2014). Mental health emergency transport: The pot-holed road to care. Medical Journal of Australia, 200 (6), 348–351. Brouwer, G. E. (2005). Review of fatal police shootings by Victoria Police [Report of the Director, Police Integrity]. Melbourne, VIC: Office of Police Integrity Victoria. Brown, A. (2012, October 9). Independent inquiry the only way for police killing. Melbourne: Human Rights Law Centre. Retrieved May 11, 2019, from https://www.hrlc.org.au/news/independent-inquiry-the-only-way-forpolice-killing?rq=cassidy. Brown, J. E. (1987). News photographs and the pornography of grief. Journal of Mass Media Ethics, 2(2), 75–81. Brown, M. (2018a, December 8). The mental health act review. Mental Health Cop [Blog post]. Retrieved December 31, 2018, from https://mentalhealth cop.wordpress.com/2018/12/08/the-mental-health-act-review/. Brown, M. (2018b, August 23). Policing and mental health: Fixing symptoms and ignoring problems. Melbourne Social Equity Institute and Forensicare Public Lecture, University of Melbourne, Australia. Brown, M. (2020, February 3). Communicating clearly. Mental Health Cop [Blog post]. Retrieved February 3, 2020, from https://mentalhealthcop.wor dpress.com/2020/02/03/communicating-clearly/. Burgin, V. (1982). Thinking photography. London: Macmillan. Butler, J. (2009). Frames of war: When is life grievable? London: Verso. Callaghan, G., & Gorrey, M. (2018, June 16). Courtney had a knife out in public, but she didn’t deserve to die. The Sydney Morning Herald, Good Weekend . Retrieved June 20, 2018, from https://www.smh.com.au/national/ nsw/courtney-had-a-knife-out-in-public-but-she-didn-t-deserve-to-die-201 80612-p4zkwy.html. Campbell, D. (2004). Horrific blindness: Images of death in contemporary media. Journal for Cultural Research, 8(1), 55–74. Campbell, A. (2019, July 22). Pollie-waffle on mental health makes me want to scream. The Sydney Morning Herald . Retrieved July

References

295

23, 2019, from https://www.smh.com.au/national/how-scott-morrison-canshow-boris-johnson-what-leadership-means-20190719-p528yq.html. Campbell, B. A., Nix, J., & Maguire, E. R. (2018). Is the number of citizens fatally shot by police increasing in the post-Ferguson era? Crime & Delinquency, 64 (3), 398–420. Canada, K. E., Angell, B., & Watson, A. C. (2010). Crisis intervention teams in Chicago: Successes on the ground. Journal of Police Crisis Negotiations, 10 (1–2), 86–100. Carr, D. (2014, July 27). At front lines, bearing witness in real time. The New York Times. Retrieved July 30, 2014, from https://www.nytimes.com/ 2014/07/28/business/media/at-front-lines-bearing-witness-in-real-time. html?_r=0. Carroll, M. (2005, December). Mental-health system overburdening police. Police Journal , 18–22. Carty, L. (1998a, May 28). THE NIGHT TERROR CAME TO YORK ST: Victim’s mother cries out for neighbour’s help: ‘It’s Paul, he’s got a knife’. Illawarra Mercury, p. 2. Carty, L. (1998b, May 28). THE NIGHT TERROR CAME TO YORK ST: Serenity shattered. Illawarra Mercury, p. 3. Carty, L. (1998c, May 30). Gun death family’s grief: Shooting victim ‘gentle and loving’. Illawarra Mercury, p. 3. Carty, L. (1998d, June 4). Berkeley tragedy aftermath: Priest attacks police shooting. Illawarra Mercury, p. 1. Cassidy, S. (2013). Individual communication to the United Nations human rights committee. Melbourne: Human Rights Law Centre. CBC Radio. (2019, August 23). “An enormous change in the news agenda”: How trauma-informed reporting is transforming journalism. CBC Radio, The Sunday Edition. Retrieved February 2, 2020, from https://www.cbc.ca/ radio/thesundayedition/the-sunday-edition-for-august-25-2019-1.5256740/ an-enormous-change-in-the-news-agenda-how-trauma-informed-reportingis-transforming-journalism-1.5256757. Chan, J. (1996). Changing police culture. British Journal of Criminology, 36 (1), 109–134. Chan, J. (2003). Police and new technologies. In T. Newburn (Ed.), Handbook of policing (pp. 655–679). Collumpton, Devon: Willan Publishing. Chappell, D. (2008). Policing and emotionally disturbed persons: Disseminating knowledge, removing stigma and enhancing performance. Australian Journal of Forensic Services, 40 (1), 37–48.

296

References

Chappell, D. (2014). Firearms regulation, violence and the mentally ill: A contemporary Antipodean appraisal. International Journal of Law and Psychiatry, 37 (4), 399–408. Chappell, D., & Graham, L. P. (1985). Police use of deadly force: Canadian perspectives. Toronto, Canada: Centre of Criminology, University of Toronto. Charman, S. (2017). Police socialisation, identity and culture: Becoming blue. Cham, Switzerland: Palgrave Macmillan. Chermak, S. M., & Weiss, A. (2005). Maintaining legitimacy using external communication strategies: An analysis of police-media relations. Journal of Criminal Justice, 33(5), 501–512. Chibnall, S. (1977). Law and order news. London: Tavistock. Christensen, J., Schmidt, J., & Henderson, J. (1982). The selling of the police: Media, ideology, and crime control. Contemporary Crises, 6, 227–239. ‘Citizen Cullen’. (1998, September 3). Australian Story [Television broadcast]. Sydney, NSW: Australian Broadcasting Corporation. Retrieved April 7, 2011, from http://www.abc.net.au/austory/series3/9830.htm. Clayfield, J. C., Fletcher, K. E., & Grudzinskas, A. J., Jr. (2011). Development and validation of the mental health attitude survey for police. Community Mental Health Journal, 47 (6), 742–751. Clifford, K. (2010a). The thin blue line of mental health in Australia. Police Practice & Research: An International Journal, 11(4), 355–370. Clifford, K. (2010b). Mental health trauma narratives and misplaced assumptions: Towards an ethics of self-care among (humanities-based) trauma researchers. In M. Broderick & A. Traverso (Eds.), Trauma, media, art: New perspectives (pp. 175–192). Newcastle upon Tyne: Cambridge Scholars Publishing. Clifford, K. (2012). The vulnerable thin blue line: Representations of police use of force in the media. In I. Bartkowiak-Théron & N. L. Asquith (Eds.), Policing vulnerability (pp. 101–114). Annandale: Federation Press. Clifford, K. (2013). Mental health crisis interventions and the politics of police use of deadly force. In D. Chappell (Ed.), Policing and the mentally ill: International perspectives (pp. 171–195). Boca Raton, FL: CRC Press/Taylor & Francis. Clifford, K., & White, R. (2017). Media and crime: Content, context and consequence. South Melbourne: Oxford University Press. Clifford, K., & White, R. (2020). Mediated representations of prisoner experience and public empathy. In M. Harmes, M. Harmes, & B. Harmes (Eds.), The Palgrave handbook of incarceration in popular culture (pp. 265–287). Cham, Switzerland: Palgrave Macmillan.

References

297

Cochran, S. (2016). CIT…more than just training: Identity and ownership of CIT—The MORE ANDYou can’t have a journey without a destination [Letter]. Retrieved August 9, 2018, from http://www.citinternational.org/ resources/Pictures/CIT%20LETTER%20%20from%20Sam%20Final% 20vs%204%20Final.pdf. Cochran, S., Deane, M. W., & Borum, R. (2000). Improving police response to mentally ill people. Psychiatric Services, 51(10), 1315–1316. Cochrane, J. (2018, February 21). Lack of transparency on taser use in NSW . New South Wales Council for Civil Liberties [Blog post]. Retrieved January 1, 2019, from https://www.nswccl.org.au/lack_of_transparency_on_taser_ use_in_nsw. Cohen, S. (2001). States of Denial: Knowing about atrocities and suffering. Cambridge: Polity Press. Coleman, R. (2010). Framing the pictures in our heads: Exploring the framing and agenda-setting effects of visual images. In P. D’Angelo & J. A. Kuypers (Eds.), Doing news framing analysis: Empirical and theoretical perspectives (pp. 233–261). New York: Routledge. Coleman, T. G., & Cotton, D. H. (2010). Reducing risk and improving outcomes of police interactions with people with mental illness. Journal of Police Crisis Negotiations, 10 (1), 39–57. Coleman, T. G., & Cotton, D. H. (2014). TEMPO: A contemporary model for police education and training about mental illness. International Journal of Law and Psychiatry, 37 (4), 325–333. Coleman, T. G., & Cotton, D. H. (2016). A strategic approach to police interactions with people with a mental illness. Journal of Community Safety & Well-Being, 1(2) [Open Access]. https://journalcswb.ca/index.php/cswb/art icle/view/9/24. College of Policing. (2015). College of policing analysis: Estimating demand on the police service. Retrieved August 24, 2017, from https://www.college.pol ice.uk/About/Pages/Demand-Analysis-Report.aspx. Collins, L. (2019, February 3). ‘Pill shaming’ and stigma causes regional Australians to battle mental illness for longer. ABC News. Retrieved February 3, 2019, from https://www.abc.net.au/news/2019-02-03/pillshame-causing-longer-battles-with-mental-illness/10722406. Commonwealth of Australia. (2010). Reporting suicide and mental illness: A mindframe resource for media professionals (Revised ed.). Canberra, ACT: Commonwealth of Australia and Hunter Institute of Mental Health.

298

References

Commission of Inquiry Pursuant to Orders in Council. (1989). Commission of inquiry into possible illegal activities and associated police misconduct. Brisbane, Queensland: The Fitzgerald Inquiry. Commonwealth Department of Health and Family Services. (1998). Final report of the mental health crisis intervention ad hoc advisory group: An examination of mental health crisis intervention practices and policies regarding the fatal use of firearms by police against people with mental illness [Whiteford Report]. Canberra, ACT: Commonwealth of Australia. Compton, M. T., Esterberg, M. L., McGee, R., Kotwicki, R. J., & Oliva, J. R. (2006). Crisis intervention team training: Changes in knowledge, attitudes, and stigma related to schizophrenia. Psychiatric Services, 57 (8), 1199–1202. Connolly, E. (1999a, September 22). Fatal two minutes for an angry man. The Sydney Morning Herald , p. 7. Connolly, E. (1999b, September 25). Stopping someone dead. The Sydney Morning Herald , p. 40. Connolly, E. (1999c, December 21). Police should be tried for murder: lawyer. The Sydney Morning Herald , p. 5. Connolly, E. (1999d, December 24). Coming to grief. The Sydney Morning Herald , p. 21. Connolly, K., & Reilly, R. C. (2007). Emergent issues when researching trauma: A confessional tale. Qualitative Inquiry, 13(4), 522–540. ‘Considering police body cameras: Developments in the Law’. (2015, April). Harvard Law Review, 128(6), 1794–1817. Conway, M., & Parkes, M. (1996). Body alarm reactions during critical incidents. Policing Issues & Practice Journal , October issue, 33–38. Cordner, G. (2006). People with mental illness: Problem-oriented guides for police problem-specific guides series. Washington, DC: U.S. Department of Justice, Office of Community Oriented Policing Services. ‘Coronial inquests’. (2008, April 15). The Law Report. [Radio broadcast]. Sydney, NSW: ABC Radio National. [Transcript]. Retrieved November 2, 2011, from http://www.abc.net.au/rn/lawreport/stories/2008/2214208.htm. Coronial inquest into the death of Ali Hamie. (2002, February 1). NSW Coroner’s Court, Glebe. Corrigan, P. W., Markowitz, F. E., Watson, A. C., Rowan, D., & Kubiak, M. A. (2003). An attribution model of public discrimination towards persons with mental illness. Journal of Health and Social Behavior, 44 (2), 162–179. Corrigan, P. W., River, L. P., Lundin, R. K., Penn, D. L., Uphoff-Wasowski, K., Campion, J., et al. (2001). Three strategies for changing attributions about severe mental illness. Schizophrenia Bulletin, 27 (2), 187–195.

References

299

Cottle, S. (2000). TV news, lay voices and the visualisation of environmental risks. In S. Allan, B. Adam, & C. Carter (Eds.), Environmental risks and the media (pp. 29–44). London: Routledge. Cotton, D. (2004). The attitudes of Canadian police officers toward the mentally ill. International Journal of Law and Psychiatry, 27 (2), 135–146. Coudert, F., Butin, D., & Le Me´tayer, D. (2015). Body-worn cameras for police accountability: Opportunities and risks. Computer Law & Security Review, 31(6), 749–762. Couldry, N. (2006). Listening beyond the Echoes: Media, ethics, and agency in an uncertain world . Boulder, Colorado: Paradigm Publishers. ‘COUNTDOWN TO TRAGEDY: The night terror came to a “perfect” Berkeley street’. (1998, May 28). Illawarra Mercury, p. 1. Coward, R. (2013). Speaking personally: The rise of subjective and confessional journalism. London: Palgrave Macmillan. Crossley, N. (2004). Not being mentally ill: Social movements, system survivors and the oppositional habitus. Anthropology & Medicine, 11(2), 161–180. Culhane, S. E., Boman, J. H., & Schweitzer, K. (2016). Public perceptions of the justifiability of police shootings: The role of body cameras in a pre- and post-Ferguson experiment. Police Quarterly, 19 (3), 251–274. Cullen, P. (1998, May 30). When police shoot to kill… They’re damned if they do—And dead if they don’t. Illawarra Mercury, p. 5. Cunneen, C. (2020, June 10). Defunding the police could bring positive change in Australia: These communities are showing the way. The Conversation. Retrieved June 11, 2020, from https://theconversation.com/defund ing-the-police-could-bring-positive-change-in-australia-these-communitiesare-showing-the-way-140333. Dale, A. (2019, May 29). Taking on the trauma. LSJ Online. Retrieved August 18, 2020, from https://lsj.com.au/articles/taking-on-the-trauma/. Dalton, V. (1998). Police shootings 1990–1997 . Trends and Issues in Crime and Criminal Justice, No. 89. Canberra, ACT: Australian Institute of Criminology. Dart, T. (2018, April 12). Family of unarmed black man killed by Texas police file wrongful death lawsuit. The Guardian. Retrieved August 7, 2019, from https://www.theguardian.com/us-news/2018/apr/12/danny-raythomas-police-shooting-unarmed-black-man-texas-houston. Dart Center for Journalism & Trauma. (2020, July 15). Picturing black deaths: A conversation with Emily Bernard and Jelani Cobb [Video]. Retrieved August 19, 2020, from https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_ekOLGyid-o.

300

References

Dart Centre for Journalism & Trauma—Australasia. (Distributor). (2008). News media & trauma [DVD]. Melbourne, Victoria. Dasey, D., & Silvester, J. (1997, July 6). The last thing you want to do is pull the trigger. The Sun-Herald , p. 43. Davey, M., & Smith, M. (2016, January 25). Man killed by Chicago police called 911 before being shot. The New York Times. Retrieved August 9, 2018, from https://www.nytimes.com/2016/01/26/us/man-killed-by-chi cago-police-called-911-before-being-shot.html?_r=0. Davidson, H., Allam, L., Wahlquist, C., & Evershed, N. (2018, August 31). ‘People will continue to die’: Coroners’ ‘deaths in custody’ reports ignored. The Guardian. Retrieved May 22, 2019, from https://www.theguardian. com/australia-news/2018/aug/31/people-will-continue-to-die-coroners-dea ths-in-custody-reports-ignored. Davies, A. J. (2017). Shoot/do not shoot—What are the influences? The police recruit perspective. Policing and Society: An International Journal of Research and Policy, 27 (5), 494–507. Davies, N. (2009). Nick Davies. In M. Gordon & C. Wilkinson (Eds.), Conversations on truth (pp. 39–60). London: Continuum. DeGregory, P. (2019, April 30). PBA lawsuit to block release of bodycam footage takes a hit. New York Post. Retrieved June 3, 2019, from https://nypost.com/2019/04/30/pba-lawsuit-to-block-release-of-bodycam-footage-takes-a-hit/. de Kretser, H. (2011, March 23). Poor training and bad tactics to blame for police shootings. The Sydney Morning Herald . Retrieved June 10, 2019, from https://www.smh.com.au/politics/federal/poor-training-andbad-tactics-to-blame-for-police-shootings-20110322-1c54q.html. de Tribolet-Hardy, F., Kesic, D., & Thomas, S. D. M. (2015). Police management of mental health crisis situations in the community: Status quo, current gaps and future directions. Policing and Society: An International Journal of Research and Policy, 25 (3), 294–307. de Vreese, C. H. (2010). Framing the economy: Effects of journalistic news frames. In P. D’Angelo & J. A. Kuypers (Eds.), Doing news framing analysis: Empirical and theoretical perspectives (pp. 187–214). New York: Routledge. Dennis, J. (1999, September 24). Klein’s death took toll on family, police: Witnesses traumatised by violent images, inquest told. Illawarra Mercury, p. 5. Dixon, R. (1998, May 30). Capsicum spray still a hot issue. The Sydney Morning Herald , p. 44.

References

301

Doherty, L., & Bricknell, S. (2020, February). Shooting deaths in police custody. Statistical Bulletin 19. Canberra: Australian Institute of Criminology. Retrieved February 7, 2020, from https://www.aic.gov.au/publicati ons/sb/sb19. Donohue, D. (2010). NSW Police Force mental health intervention team corporate spokesperson’s message. Retrieved September 2, 2010, from http://www. police.nsw.gov.au/community_issues/mental_health. Donohue, D. (2014). Corporate spokesperson’s message. NSW Police Force website. Retrieved March 9, 2015, from http://www.police.nsw.gov.au/com munity_issues/mental_health. Donohue, D., & Andrews, G. (2013). NSW Police Force Mental Health Intervention Team: Forging a new path forward in mental health and policing in the community. In D. Chappell (Ed.), Policing and the mentally ill: International perspectives (pp. 65–104). Boca Raton, FL: CRC Press/Taylor & Francis. Donohue, D., Murphy, S., & Cowan, D. (2009). NSW Police Force Mental Health Intervention Team training manual . Sydney, NSW: NSW Police Force. Donovan, J., & boyd, d. (2021). Stop the presses? Moving from strategic silence to strategic amplification in a networked media ecosystem. American Behavioral Scientist, 65 (2), 333–350. Dow, A. (2018, November 15). The patient had planned his suicide: But the crisis team was busy. The Age. Retrieved October 19, 2019, from https://www.theage.com.au/politics/victoria/the-patient-had-plannedhis-suicide-but-the-crisis-team-was-busy-20181106-p50edk.html. Dowler, K., & Zawilski, V. (2007). Public perceptions of police misconduct and discrimination: Examining the impact of media consumption. Journal of Criminal Justice, 35 (2), 193–203. Dror, I. E. (2007). Perception of risk and the decision to use force. Policing: A Journal of Policy and Practice, 1(3), 265–272. Dunreath-Cooper, A. (1998, June 6). Why must police shoot to kill? [Letter to the Editor]. Illawarra Mercury, p. 8. Dyer, W., Steer, M., & Biddle, P. (2015). Mental health street triage. Policing: A Journal of Policy and Practice, 9 (4), 377–387. Edraki, F., & Carrick, D. (2019, March 22). Trauma of news journalism in focus after the age found responsible for reporter’s PTSD. ABC News. Retrieved August 10, 2020, from https://www.abc.net.au/news/2019-03-22/ ex-age-journalist-awarded-damages-for-ptsd-world-first/10896382.

302

References

Edwards, D. (2001). Emotion. In M. Wetherell, S. Taylor, & S. J. Yates (Eds.), Discourse theory and practice: A reader (pp. 236–246). London: Sage. Eisler, P., Szep, J., Reid, T., & Smith, G. (2017a, August 22). Shock tactics | Part 1: The toll . Retrieved August 22, 2018, from https://www.reuters.com/ investigates/special-report/usa-taser-911/. Eisler, P., Szep, J., Reid, T., & Smith, G. (2017b, August 24). Special report: A 911 plea for help, a Taser shot and the toll of stun guns. Reuters. Retrieved August 22, 2018, from https://www.reuters.com/article/usa-taser-911call/ special-report-a-911-plea-for-help-a-taser-shot-and-the-toll-of-stun-gunsidUSKCN1B21AK. Elinson, Z. (2018, November 28). When mental-health experts, not police, are the first responders. The Wall Street Journal . Retrieved October 9, 2019, from https://www.wsj.com/articles/when-mental-health-experts-notpolice-are-the-first-responders-1543071600. Elliott, T. (2014, July 26). ‘Reality of war’ laid bare in publication of graphic images of MH17, Gaza dead. The Sydney Morning Herald . Retrieved July 30, 2014, from https://www.smh.com.au/world/reality-of-war-laid-bare-inpublication-of-graphic-images-of-mh17-gaza-dead-20140725-zwow4.html. Engel, R. S., McManus, H. D., & Isaza, G. T. (2020). Moving beyond “best practice”: Experiences in police reform and a call for evidence to reduce officer-involved shootings. The ANNALS of the American Academy of Political and Social Science, 687 (1), 146–165. Engel, R. S., & Silver, E. (2001). Policing mentally-disordered suspects: A re-examination of the criminalization hypothesis. Criminology, 39 (2), 225–252. Entman, R. M. (1993). Framing: Toward clarification of a fractured paradigm. Journal of Communication, 43(4), 51–58. Entman, R. M. (2004). Projections of power: Framing news, public opinion, and U.S. foreign policy. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Entman, R. M. (2010). Media framing biases and political power: Explaining slant in news of campaign 2008. Journalism, 11(4), 389–408. Ericson, R. V. (1995). The news media and account ability in criminal justice. In P. C. Stenning (Ed.), Accountability for criminal justice (pp. 135–161). Toronto: University of Toronto Press. Ericson, R. V., & Haggerty, K. D. (1997). Policing the risk society. Toronto: University of Toronto Press. Este, J. (2000, August 3). Photo editors who bear small gifts. The Weekend Australian—The Australian Magazine, p. M03.

References

303

Evershed, N., & Laughland, O. (2013, May 30). Almost half of Australian people shot dead by police were mentally ill. The Guardian. Retrieved August 29, 2018, from https://www.theguardian.com/world/2013/may/30/ half-shot-police-mentally-ill. Everymind. (2020). Communicating about a person with mental ill-health [Webpage]. Retrieved January 29, 2020, from https://mindframe.org.au/ mental-health/communicating-about-mental-ill-health/mindframe-guidel ines/communicating-about-a-persona-with-mental-ill-health. Ewald, F. (1993). Two infinities of risk. In B. Massumi (Ed.), The politics of everyday fear (pp. 221–228). Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press. Expert Advisory Committee on Information Sharing in Mental Health Crisis Situations. (2000). Toward a national approach to information sharing in mental health crisis situations [Wooldridge Report]. Canberra, ACT: Mental Health and Special Programs Branch, Commonwealth Department of Health and Aged Care. Fan, M. D. (2016). Privacy, public disclosure, police body cameras: Policy splits. Alabama Law Review, 68(2), 395–444. Fincham, B., Scourfield, J., & Langer, S. (2007). The emotional and analytic impact of working with disturbing secondary data (NCRM Working Paper Series 8/07). ESRC National Centre for Research Methods. Retrieved October 12, 2010, from http://eprints.ncrm.ac.uk/470/1/0807_working_ with_disturbing_secondary_data.pdf. Fincham, B., Scourfield, J., & Langer, S. (2008). The impact of working with disturbing secondary data: Reading suicide files in a coroner’s office. Qualitative Health Research, 18(6), 853–862. Finding after an inquest into the death of Elijah Holcombe. (2014, May 1). Chambers, Glebe. https://coroners.nsw.gov.au/documents/findings/2014/eli jah%20holcombe%20findings.pdf. Franz, S., & Borum, R. (2011). Crisis intervention teams may prevent arrests of people with mental illnesses. Police Practice and Research, 12(3), 265–272. Freckelton, I. (1996). Suing the police: The moral of the disappointing morsel. Alternative Law Journal, 21(4), 173–190. Freckelton, I. (2016). Minimising the counter-therapeutic effects of coronial investigations: In search of balance. QUT Law Review, 16 (3), 4–29. Frueh, B. C., Knapp, R. G., Cusack, K. J., Grubaugh, A. L., Sauvageot, J. A., Cousins, V. C., et al. (2005). Patients’ reports of traumatic or harmful experiences within the psychiatric setting. Psychiatric Services, 56 (9), 1123– 1133.

304

References

Fuller, D.A., Lamb, H.R., Biasotti, M., & Snook, J. (2015). Overlooked in the undercounted: The role of mental illness in fatal law enforcement encounters. Arlington, VA: Treatment Advocacy Center. Retrieved April 7, 2017, from http://www.treatmentadvocacycenter.org/evidence-and-research/studies. Fulwiler, C., Grossman, B., Forbes, C., & Ruthazer, R. (1997). Early-onset substance abuse and community violence by outpatients with chronic mental illness. Psychiatric Services, 48(9), 1181–1194. Fyfe, J. J. (1982). Blind justice: Police shootings in Memphis. Journal of Criminal Law and Criminology, 73(2), 702–722. Gaber, I. (2014). Three cheers for subjectivity: The continuing collapse of the seven pillars of journalistic wisdom. In A. Charles (Ed.), The end of journalism version 2.0: Industry, technology and politics (pp. 53–71). Oxford: Peter Lang. Gamson, W. (1982). Talking politics. New York: Cambridge University Press. Gamson, W. (1989). News as framing. American Behavioral Scientist, 33(2), 157–161. Gamson, W. A., & Modigliani, A. (1989). Media discourse and public opinion on nuclear power: A constructionist approach. American Journal of Sociology, 95 (1), 1–37. Gannoni, A., & Bricknell, S. (2019). National deaths in custody program: Deaths in custody in Australia 2016–17 . Statistical Reports No. 13. Canberra: Australian Institute of Criminology. Retrieved June 7, 2019, from https:// aic.gov.au/publications/sr/sr13. Geller, J. L. (2008). Commentary: Is CIT today’s lobotomy. Journal of the American Academy of Psychiatry and the Law, 36 (1), 56–58. Geller, W. A., & Scott, M. (1992). Deadly force: What we know: A practitioner’s desk reference on police-involved shootings. Washington, DC: Police Executive Research Forum. Geoscience Australia. (n.d.). Area of Australia—States and territories [Webpage]. Retrieved August 9, 2018, from http://www.ga.gov.au/scientific-topics/ national-location-information/dimensions/area-of-australia-states-and-territ ories#heading-1. Gitlin, T. (1980). The whole world is watching: Mass media in the making and unmaking of the new left. Berkeley, CA: University of California Press. Godfredson, J. W., Thomas, S. D. M., Ogloff, J. R. P., & Luebbers, S. (2011). Police perceptions of their encounters with individuals experiencing mental illness: A Victorian survey. Australian & New Zealand Journal of Criminology, 44 (2), 180–195.

References

305

Godlasky, A. (2020, January 22). What could trauma-informed journalism look like? NiemanReports. Cambridge, MA: Nieman Foundation for Journalism at Harvard. Retrieved February 12, 2020, from https://niemanrep orts.org/articles/what-could-trauma-informed-journalism-look-like/. Goffman, E. (1974). Frame analysis. London: Penguin. Goldsmith, A. J. (2010). Policing’s new visibility. The British Journal of Criminology, 50 (5), 914–934. Goldsworthy, T. (2014, November 25). Shoot to kill: The use of lethal force by police in Australia. The Conversation. Retrieved January 27, 2019, from https://theconversation.com/shoot-to-kill-the-use-of-lethalforce-by-police-in-australia-34578. Goldsworthy, T. (2017, July 27). I was a cop in Australia: We don’t shoot the people we’re sworn to protect. Vox. Retrieved January 27, 2019, from https://www.vox.com/first-person/2017/7/27/16038820/jus tine-damond-police-shooting-brutality-gun-laws. Goode, E. (2016, April 25). For police, a playbook for conflicts involving mental illness. The New York Times. Retrieved August 9, 2018, from https://www.nytimes.com/2016/04/26/health/police-mental-illness-cri sis-intervention.html. Goodsir, D. (2001). Death at Bondi: Cops, cocaine, corruption and the killing of Roni Levi. Sydney: Pan Macmillan Australia. Goodyear, D. (2018, August 27). Can the manufacturer of tasers provide the answer to police abuse? The New Yorker. Retrieved August 22, 2018, from https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2018/08/27/can-themanufacturer-of-tasers-provide-the-answer-to-police-abuse. Graziano, L. M. (2019). News media and perceptions of police: A state-of-theart review. Policing: An International Journal, 42(2), 209–225. Graziano, L. M., & Gauthier, J. F. (2018). Media consumption and perceptions of police legitimacy. Policing: An International Journal, 41(5), 593–607. Griffith, G. (2009, August). Tasers—Developments, findings and recommendations [E-Brief ]. Sydney, NSW: NSW Parliamentary Library Research Service. Gutsche, R. E., & Salkin, E. R. (2013). ‘It’s better than blaming a dead young man’: Creating mythical archetypes in local coverage of the Mississippi River drownings. Journalism: Theory, Practice, and Criticism, 14 (1), 61–77. Gyldensted, C. (2014, October 24). How journalists could be more constructive—and boost audiences. The Guardian. Retrieved August 10, 2020, from https://www.theguardian.com/media-network/2014/oct/24/con structive-journalism-de-correspondent.

306

References

Haagerup, U. (2017). Constructive news: How to save the media and democracy with journalism of tomorrow. Aarhus, Denmark: Aarhus University Press. Haggerty, K. D., & Sandhu, A. (2014). The police crisis of visibility. IEEE Technology and Society Magazine, 33(2), 9–12. Haigh, C. B., Kringen, A. L., & Kringen, J. A. (2020). Mental illness stigma: Limitations of crisis intervention team training. Criminal Justice Policy Review, 31(1), 42–57. Hails, J., & Borum, R. (2003). Police training and specialized approaches to respond to people with mental illnesses. Crime and Delinquency, 49 (1), 52– 61. Hall, S. (1981). The determination of news photographs. In S. Cohen & J. Young (Eds.), The manufacture of news: Social problems, deviance and the mass media (Revised ed.) (pp. 226–243). London: Sage. Hall, S., Critcher, C., Jefferson, T., Clarke, J., & Roberts, B. (1978/2013). Policing the crisis: Mugging, the state and law and order (2nd ed.). Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan. Hamdorf, R., Boni, N., Webber, I., Pikl, A., & Packer, J. (1998). National minimum guidelines for incident management, conflict resolution and use of force. Payneham, SA: National Police Research Unit. Hanusch, F. (2010). Representing death in the news: Journalism, media and mortality. Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan. Harradine, N., & Meachim, L. (2019, September 18). Woman shot by police in Geraldton, WA dies in hospital, family asks ‘who’s safe?’ ABC News. Retrieved September 20, 2019, from https://www.abc.net.au/news/2019-0918/police-incident-in-geraldton-woman-shot/11522252. Harris, B., Duggan, M., Batterham, P., et al. (2018). Australia’s mental and physical health tracker. Melbourne: Australian Health Policy Collaboration. Retrieved August 12, 2018, from https://www.vu.edu.au/sites/default/files/ australias-mental-and-physical-health-tracker-report-card.pdf. Hartley, A. (2020, July 20). Family of man shot dead by police in Brisbane’s CBD questions ‘extreme’ use of force. ABC News. Retrieved August 3, 2020, from https://www.abc.net.au/news/2020-07-20/qld-police-shootingmohamad-ikraam-bahram-investigation/12441908. Harvey, S. B., Deady, M., Wang, M. J., Mykletun, A., Butterworth, P., Christensen, H., et al. (2017). Is the prevalence of mental illness increasing in Australia? Evidence from national health surveys and administrative data, 2001–2014. Medical Journal of Australia, 206 (11), 490–493. Hayman-White, K., Sgro, S., & Happell, B. (2006). Mental health in Australia: The ideal versus financial reality and the role of the mental health nurse.

References

307

Australian e-Journal for the Advancement of Mental Health, 5 (1). Retrieved May 11, 2008, from www.auseinet.com/journal/vol5iss1/hayman-white.pdf. Hazelton, M. (1997). Reporting mental health: A discourse analysis of mental health-related news in two Australian newspapers. Australian and New Zealand Journal of Mental Health Nursing, 6 (2), 73–89. Hendy, R. (2014). Routinely armed and unarmed police: What can the Scandinavian experience teach us? Policing, 8(2), 183–192. Henry, P., & Rajakaruna, N. (2018, March 29). WA police force mental health co-response evaluation report. Perth, WA: The Sellenger Centre for Research in Law, Justice and Social Change, Edith Cowan University. Hermant, N. (2018, August 12). NDIS transition prompts fears for community mental health services, advocates expect reduced quality of care. ABC News. Retrieved August 12, 2018, from http://www.abc.net.au/news/201808-12/fears-over-ndis-takeover-of-community-mental-health-services/101 06720. Herrington, V., & Clifford, K. (2012). Policing mental illness: Examining the police role in addressing mental ill-health. In I. Bartkowiak-Théron & N. L. Asquith (Eds.), Policing vulnerability (pp. 117–131). Annandale: Federation Press. Herrington, V., Clifford, K., Lawrence, P. F., Ryle, S., & Pope, R. (2009). The impact of the NSW Police Force Mental Health Intervention Team: Final evaluation report. Sydney, NSW: Charles Sturt University Centre for Inland Health and Australian Graduate School of Policing. Hess, K., & Waller, L. (2020). Moral compass: How a small-town newspaper used silence in a hyper-charged controversy. Journalism, 21(4), 574–590. Hight, J., & Smyth, F. (2004). Tragedies & journalists: A guide for more effective coverage. Seattle, WA: Dart Center for Journalism & Trauma. Hinkel, D. (2017, December 29). Chicago police watchdog rules 2015 shooting of Quintonio LeGrier and Bettie Jones was unjustified. Chicago Tribune. Retrieved July 25, 2018, from http://www.chicagotribune.com/ news/local/breaking/ct-met-legrier-jones-shooting-unjustified-20171228story.html. Hinkel, D. (2018, June 12). City reaches $16 million settlement over innocent bystander shot dead by cop. Chicago Tribune. Retrieved July 25, 2018, from http://www.chicagotribune.com/news/local/breaking/ct-met-bet tie-jones-settlement-20180611-story.html. Hirschfield, P. J., & Simon, D. (2010). Legitimating police violence: Newspaper narratives of deadly force. Theoretical Criminology, 14 (2), 155–182.

308

References

Hobday, L. (2018, May 7). Patients lives at risk after NDIS funding redirected, mental health Victoria says. ABC News. Retrieved August 12, 2018, from http://www.abc.net.au/news/2018-05-07/ndis-mental-health-fundingchanges-putting-lives-at-risk/9732596. Hogan, M. (1988). Let sleeping watchdogs lie. In M. Hogan, D. Brown, & R. Hogg (Eds.), Death in the hands of the state (pp. 115–190). Marrickville, NSW: Redfern Legal Centre Publishing Ltd. Hollander, Y., Lee, S. J., Tahtalian, S., Young, D., & Jayashri, K. (2012). Challenges relating to the interface between crisis mental health clinicians and police when engaging with people with a mental illness. Psychiatry, Psychology and Law, 19 (3), 402–411. Holmes, M. D., & Smith, B. W. (2012). Intergroup dynamics of extra-legal police aggression: An integrated theory of race and place. Aggression and Violent Behavior, 17 (4), 344–353. Horspool, K., Drabble, S. J., & O’Cathain, A. (2016). Implementing street triage: A qualitative study of collaboration between police and mental health services. BMC Psychiatry, 16 (313). [Open Access]. https://doi.org/10.1186/ s12888-016-1026-z. Howarth, C., Foster, J., & Dorrer, N. (2004). Exploring the potential of the theory of social representations in community-based health research—and vice versa? Journal of Health Psychology, 9 (2), 229–243. Howie, E. (2010, November 2). Tasers are Lethal Weapons and must be regulated and restricted as such. Human Rights Law Centre [Blog post]. Retrieved July 12, 2019, from https://www.hrlc.org.au/opinion/tasers-are-lethal-weaponsand-must-be-regulated-and-restricted-as-such. Hurdley, R. (2010). In the picture or off the wall? Ethical regulation, research habitus and unpeopled ethnography. Qualitative Inquiry, 16 (6), 517–528. Iannelli, J. (2020, July 2). LAPD officer who killed man in mental health crisis is a gun-toting social media star. The Appeal . Retrieved July 4, 2020, from https://theappeal.org/lapd-killing-social-media/. Independent Advisory Panel on Deaths in Custody. (2015). Statistical analysis of recorded deaths 2000 to 2013. Retrieved June 10, 2015, from http://iapdeathsincustody.independent.gov.uk/wp-content/upl oads/2015/02/Statistical-analysis-of-recorded-deaths-2000-to-2013.pdf. Inman, M. (2013, June 6). Crowleys must go cap in hand as appeal denied. The Canberra Times. Retrieved January 26, 2019, from https://www.canber ratimes.com.au/national/act/crowleys-must-go-cap-in-hand-as-appeal-den ied-20130606-2nrlo.html.

References

309

INQUEST. (2014). INQUEST submission to the home affairs committee inquiry into policing and mental health. London: INQUEST. Retrieved May 27, 2015, from http://inquest.org.uk/pdf/briefings/INQUEST_HASC_pol icing_and_mental_health_submission_FINAL_May_2014.pdf. Inquest into the death of Adam Quddus Salter. (2011, October 14). NSW Coroner’s Court, Glebe. Inquest into the deaths of Anthony William Young; Shaun Basil Kumeroa; Edward Wayne Logan; Laval Donovan Zimmer; Troy Martin Foster. (2017, October 20). Coroner’s Court, Brisbane. https://www.courts.qld.gov.au/__data/ass ets/pdf_file/0005/540590/cif-recommendationspoliceshootings-20171020. pdf. Inquest into the death of Courtney Topic. (2018, July 30). NSW Coroner’s Court, Glebe. https://coroners.nsw.gov.au/documents/findings/2018/Cou rtney%20Topic%20findings.pdf. Inquest into the death of Danukul Mokmool . (2019, August 5). State Coroner’s Court, Lidcombe. https://coroners.nsw.gov.au/documents/findings/2019/ Mokmool.pdf. Inquest into the death of MC . (2017, August 17). NSW State Coroner’s Court, Glebe. https://coroners.nsw.gov.au/documents/findings/2017/MC%20Find ings%20-%20redacted.pdf. Inquest into the death of Michael Vanquelef Capel . (2011, September 8). Newcastle Court House, NSW. Inquest into the death of Paul Simon Klein. (1999, December 21). NSW State Coroner’s Court, Wollongong. Inquest into the death of Roberto Laudisio Curti. (2012, November 14). NSW State Coroner’s Court, Glebe. https://coroners.nsw.gov.au/documents/fin dings/2012/curti_decision_14_nov_2012.pdf. Inquest into the death of Stephen Paul Hodge. (2018, April 20). State Coroner’s Court, Glebe NSW. https://coroners.nsw.gov.au/documents/findings/2018/ Hodge%20Findings.pdf. International Association of Chiefs of Police & COPS Office. (2012). Emerging use of force issues: Balancing public and officer safety. Washington, DC: Office of Community Oriented Policing Services, U.S. Department of Justice. IPCC. (2014). IPCC review of Taser complaints and incidents 2014–2013. London: Independent Police Complaints Commission. IPCC. (2016, March). Police use of force: Evidence from complaints, investigations and public perception. London: Independent Police Complaints Commission.

310

References

Ireton, C., & Posetti, J. (Eds.). (2018). Journalism, ‘fake news’ & disinformation: Handbook for journalism education and training [UNESCO Series on Journalism Education]. Paris: UNESCO. Retrieved July 30, 2019, from https:// en.unesco.org/fightfakenews. Iyengar, S. (1991). Is anyone responsible? How television frames political issues. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Jablensky, A., & Jones, P. (1998). Invited commentaries on: Premorbid adjustment and personality in people with schizophrenia. British Journal of Psychiatry, 172(4), 314–315. Jacobs, D., & Britt, D. (1979). Inequality and police use of deadly force: An empirical assessment of a conflict hypothesis. Social Problems, 26 (4), 403– 412. Jamieson, T. (1998, May 28). The quiet man who lost control. The Sydney Morning Herald , p. 5. Jamieson, T., Kennedy, L., & Murphy, D. (1998, May 28). Officers had ‘no option but to shoot’. The Sydney Morning Herald , p. 5. Jennings, W. G., Fridell, L. A., & Lynch, M. D. (2014). Cops and cameras: Officer perceptions of the use of body-worn cameras in law enforcement. Journal of Criminal Justice, 42(6), 549–556. Jensen, E. (2019). Fragile minds. PEN Melbourne Magazine, 2, 10–19. Johnson, R. R. (2011). Suspect mental disorder and police use of force. Criminal Justice and Behavior, 38(2), 127–145. Johnston, J., & Breit, R. (2010). Towards a narratology of court reporting. Media International Australia, 137 (1), 47–57. Jones, S. L., & Mason, T. (2002). Quality of treatment following police detention of mentally disordered offenders. Journal of Psychiatric and Mental Health Nursing, 9 (1), 73–80. Kaminski, R., & Jefferis, E. (1998). The effect of a violent televised arrest on public perceptions of the police. Policing, 21(4), 683–706. Kane, E., Evans, E., & Shokraneh, F. (2018). Effectiveness of current policingrelated mental health interventions: A systematic review. Criminal Behaviour and Mental Health, 28(2), 108–119. Kania, R. E., & Mackey, W. C. (1977). Police violence as a function of community characteristics. Criminology, 15 (1), 27–48. Kawamoto, K. (2005). Best practices in trauma reporting: Ideas and insights from award-winning newspaper articles. Seattle, WA: Dart Center for Journalism & Trauma. Keay, S., & Kirby, S. (2017). Defining vulnerability: From the conceptual to the operational. Policing: A Journal of Policy and Practice, 12(4), 428–438.

References

311

Keeble, T. (1998, May 27). SHOT DEAD: Police gun down Berkeley man. Illawarra Mercury, p. 1. Kerr, A. N., Morabito, M., & Watson, A. C. (2010). Police encounters, mental illness, and injury: An exploratory investigation. Journal of Police Crisis Negotiations, 10 (1), 116–132. Kesic, D., Ducat, L. V., & Thomas, S. D. M. (2011). Using force: Australian newspaper depictions of contacts between the police and persons experiencing mental illness. Australian Psychologist, 47 (4), 213–223. Kesic, D., Thomas, S. D. M., & Ogloff, J. R. P. (2010). Mental illness among police fatalities in Victoria 1982–2007: Case linkage study. Australian and New Zealand Journal of Psychiatry, 44 (5), 463–468. Kidd, J. (2015, September 17). NSW police issued body cameras to record interactions, gather video evidence. ABC News. Retrieved May 31, 2019, from https://www.abc.net.au/news/2015-09-17/nsw-police-to-wearbody-cameras/6783862. Kieran, M. (1998). Objectivity, impartiality and good journalism. In M. Kieran (Ed.), Media ethics (pp. 23–36). London: Routledge. Kimhi, R., Barak, Y., Gutman, J., Melamed, Y., Zohar, M., & Barak, I. (1998). Police attitudes toward mental illness and psychiatric patients in Israel. Journal of the American Academy of Psychiatry and the Law, 26 (4), 625–630. Kindy, K. (2019, January 21). Some U.S. police departments dump bodycamera programs amid high costs. The Washington Post. Retrieved June 3, 2019, from https://www.washingtonpost.com/national/some-us-policedepartments-dump-body-camera-programs-amid-high-costs/2019/01/21/ 991f0e66-03ad-11e9-b6a9-0aa5c2fcc9e4_story.html?utm_term=.66827b 3b3c0e. King, S. (2018, March 31). Danny Ray Thomas was a broken man who needed help: Instead he was gunned down by a cop in broad daylight. The Intercept. Retrieved August 7, 2019, from https://theintercept.com/2018/03/30/ stephon-clark-police-shooting-unarmed-black-man/. Kitchener, B. A., & Jorm, A. F. (2002). Mental health first aid manual . Melbourne, VIC: ORYGEN Research Centre. Kitzinger, J. (2004). Framing abuse: Media influence and public understanding of sexual violence against children. London and Ann Arbor, MI: Pluto Press. Kitzinger, J. (2000). Media templates: Patterns of association and the (re)construction of meaning over time. Media, Culture & Society, 22(1), 61–84.

312

References

Kitzinger, J., & Reilly, J. (1997). The rise and fall of risk reporting: Media coverage of human genetics research, ‘false memory syndrome’ and mad cow disease. European Journal of Communication, 12(3), 319–350. Klinger, D. A., & Brunson, R. K. (2009). Police officers’ perceptual distortions during lethal force situation: Informing the reasonableness standard. Criminology & Public Policy, 8(1), 117–140. Knaus, C. (2018, January 17). Fears those with severe mental health issues are falling through NDIS cracks. The Guardian. Retrieved August 12, 2018, from https://www.theguardian.com/australia-news/2018/jan/17/alm ost-75-of-people-on-mental-health-programs-left-without-ndis-support. Knowles, L. (2016, August 26). Roberto Curti: Millions of taxpayer dollars spent defending NSW police involved in taser death. ABC News. Retrieved July 15, 2019, from https://www.abc.net.au/news/2016-08-26/robert-curtipolice-spent-millions-defending-officers-over-taser/7788018. Koubaridis, A. (2017, January 27). Former Melbourne detective lifts the lid on culture of fear inside Victoria Police. news.com.au. Retrieved July 31, 2019, from https://www.news.com.au/news/national/former-melbourne-det ective-lifts-lid-on-culture-of-fear-inside-victoria-police/news-story/bbf1be e3afe9ae527b2550e6588ebf55. Krishan, S., Bakeman, R., Broussard, B., Cristofaro, S. L., Hankerson-Dyson, D., Husbands, L., et al. (2014). The influence of neighborhood characteristics on police officers’ encounters with persons suspected to have a serious mental illness. International Journal of Law and Psychiatry, 37 (4), 359–369. Kulmala, T. (2017, August 9). ‘Not film directors’: Richland deputies testing gun-activated body cameras. The State. Retrieved January 29, 2019, from https://www.thestate.com/news/local/crime/article166309462.html. Lamb, H. R., Weinberger, L. E., & DeCuir, W. J., Jr. (2002). The police and mental health. Psychiatric Services, 53(10), 1266–1271. Lamont, L. (2004, September 15). Dead man’s family sues over TV footage. The Sydney Morning Herald , p. 5. Lawrence, D., Kyron, M., Rikkers, W., Bartlett, J., Hafekost, K., Goodsell, B., & Cunneen, R. (2018). Answering the call: National survey of the mental health and wellbeing of police and emergency services: Detailed report. Perth: Graduate School of Education, The University of Western Australia. Lawrence, D. S., McClure, D., Malm, A., Lynch, M., & La Vigne, N. (2019). Activation of body-worn cameras: Variation by officer, over time, and by policing activity. Criminal Justice Review, 44 (3), 339–355. Lawrence, R. G. (2000). The politics of force: Media and the construction of police brutality. Berkeley and Los Angeles, CA: University of California Press.

References

313

Lee, M., & McGovern, A. (2014). Policing and media: Public relations, simulations and communications. London and New York: Routledge. Lester, L., & Hutchins, B. (2012). Soft journalism, politics and environmental risk: An Australian story. Journalism, 13(5), 654–667. ‘Lethal Force’. (2009, October 26). Four Corners [Television broadcast]. Sydney, NSW: ABC TV. Lindlof, T. R. (2002). Interpretive community: An approach to media and religion. Journal of Media and Religion, 1(1), 63–76. Link, B. G., Andrews, H., & Cullen, F. T. (1992). The violent and illegal behavior of mental patients reconsidered. American Sociological Review, 57 (3), 275–292. Lipson, G. S., Turner, J. T., & Kasper, R. (2010). A strategic approach to police interactions involving persons with mental illness. Journal of Police Crisis Negotiations, 10 (1), 30–38. Liska, A. E., & Yu, J. (1992). Specifying and testing the threat hypothesis. In A. Liska (Ed.), Social threat and social control (pp. 53–68). Albany: State University of New York Press. Livingston, J. D., Desmarais, S. L., Verdun-Jones, S., Parent, R., Michalak, E., & Brink, J. (2014). Perceptions and experiences of people with mental illness regarding their interactions with police. International Journal of Law and Psychiatry, 37 (4), 334–340. Lockhart, P. R. (2018, June 29). Quintonio LeGrier was killed by police: A jury awarded his family $1 million: Then a judge took it away. Vox. Retrieved July 25, 2018, from https://www.vox.com/identities/2018/6/29/17515500/ quintonio-legrier-police-shooting-settlement-reversed-chicago. Lum, C., Stoltz, M., Koper, C. S., & Scherer, J. A. (2019). Research on bodyworn cameras: What we know, what we need to know. Criminology & Public Policy, 18(1), 93–118. Lyneham, M., & Chan, A. (2013). Deaths in custody in Australia to 30 June 2011: Twenty years of monitoring by the National Deaths in Custody Program since the Royal Commission into Aboriginal Deaths in Custody. Canberra, ACT: Australian Institute of Criminology. Retrieved June 10, 2015, from http://www.aic.gov.au/publications/mr/mr20. Lyneham, M., Larsen, J. J., & Beaucroft, L. (2010). Deaths in custody in Australia: National Deaths in Custody Program 2008. Canberra, ACT: Australian Institute of Criminology. Mardon, C. (1999a, September 18). Why did our son have to die? Parents want some answers from coroner, Berkeley shooting aftermath. Illawarra Mercury, p. 1.

314

References

Mardon, C. (1999b, September 18). The death of ‘post’, a gentle giant: Family hopes inquiry will reveal the truth. Illawarra Mercury, p. 4. Mardon, C. (1999c, September 18). The death of ‘post’, a gentle giant: Pretty slick for a big fellow. Illawarra Mercury, p. 5. Mardon, C. (1999d, September 18). The death of ‘post’, a gentle giant: Police ‘got it wrong’. Illawarra Mercury, p. 5. Martin, T., & Thomas, S. (2015). Police officers’ views of their encounters with people with personality disorder. Journal of Psychiatric and Mental Health Nursing, 22(2), 125–132. Martinez, L. E. (2010). Police departments’ response in dealing with persons with mental illness. Journal of Police Crisis Negotiations, 10 (1), 166–174. Mawby, R. C. (2001). Promoting the police? The rise of police image work. Criminal Justice Matters, 43(1), 44–45. Mawby, R. C. (2002). Policing images: Policing, communication and legitimacy. Cullompton, Devon: Willan Publishing. Mawby, R. C. (1999). Visibility, transparency and police-media relations. Policing and Society: An International Journal of Research and Policy, 9, 263–286. May, L. (1996). The socially responsive self: Social theory and professional ethics. Chicago and London: University of Chicago Press. Mazerolle, L., Antrobus, E., Bennett, S., & Tyler, T. R. (2013). Shaping citizen perceptions of police legitimacy: A randomized field trial of procedural justice. Criminology, 51(1), 33–63. McCarthy, T., Swaine, J., & Laughland, O. (2015, December 9). FBI to launch new system to count people killed by police officers. The Guardian. Retrieved August 25, 2019, from https://www.theguardian.com/us-news/ 2015/dec/09/fbi-launch-new-system-count-people-killed-police-officersthe-counted. McCulloch, J. (2001). Blue army: Paramilitary policing in Australia. Melbourne, VIC: Melbourne University Press. McCulloch, J., & Palmer, D. (2005). Civil litigation by citizens against Australian police between 1994 and 2002 [Report to the Criminology Research Council]. CRC Grant No. 19/01-02. Retrieved January 11, 2012, from http://www.criminologyresearchcouncil.gov.au/reports/20010219.pdf. McDaniel, J. L. M. (2019). Reconciling mental health, public policing and police accountability. The Police Journal: Theory, Practice and Principles, 92(1), 72–94.

References

315

McDermott, Q. (2012, March 5). Shooting deaths spark call for mental health overhaul. ABC News. Retrieved July 9, 2018, from http://www.abc.net.au/ news/2012-03-05/shooting-deaths-spark-call-for-mental-health-overhaul/ 3868754. McElvain, J. P. (2009). Police shootings and citizen behavior. El Paso, TX: LFB Scholarly Publishing LLC. McElvain, J. P., & Kposowa, A. J. (2008). Police officer characteristics and the likelihood of using deadly force. Criminal Justice and Behavior, 35 (4), 505–521. McGlen, I. (2008). The ABC of mental health. Emergency Nurse, 16 (7), 25– 27. McGorry, P. (2009, February 18). Mental health reform needs urgent reform. The Sydney Morning Herald . Retrieved July 15, 2017, from https://www. smh.com.au/politics/federal/mental-health-reform-needs-urgent-care-200 90217-8a81.html. McGovern, A., & Lee, M. (2010). ‘Cop[ying] it sweet’: Police media units and the making of news. The Australian and New Zealand Journal of Criminology, 43(3), 444–464. McIntosh, S. (2016). Taken lives matter: Open justice and recognition in inquests into deaths at the hands of the state. International Journal of Law in Context, 12(2), 141–161. McIntyre, K., Dahmen, N. S., & Abdenour, J. (2018). The contextualist function: US newspaper journalists value social responsibility. Journalism, 19 (12), 1657–1675. McIntyre, K., & Gyldensted, C. (2018). Constructive journalism: An introduction and practical guide for applying positive psychology techniques to news production. The Journal of Media Innovations, 4 (2), 20–34. McKenzie, N. (2018, April 2). Beaten, abused, humiliated and filmed by Victoria Police. The Age. Retrieved June 10, 2019, from https://www.the age.com.au/national/victoria/beaten-abused-humiliated-and-filmed-by-vic toria-police-20180321-p4z5f2.html. McKenzie, N., & Baker, R. (2011, March 23). Police shootings scrutinised. The Age. Retrieved May 15, 2011, from http://www.theage.com.au/victoria/ police-shootings-scrutinised-20110322-1c589.html. McLean, K., Wolfe, S. E., Rojek, J., Alpert, G. P., & Smith, M. R. (2020). Randomized controlled trial of social interaction police training. Criminology & Public Policy, 19 (3), 805–832. McLellan, T. (1999). Fair game or fair go? Impact of news reporting on victims and survivors of traumatic events. Asia Pacific Media Educator, 1(7), 53–72.

316

References

MEAA. (2020). MEAA journalist code of ethics [Webpage]. Retrieved August 10, 2020, from https://www.meaa.org/meaa-media/code-of-ethics/. Meares, T. L., & Tyler, T. R. (2020, June 8). The first step is figuring out what police are for. The Atlantic. Retrieved June 9, 2020, from https://www.theatlantic.com/ideas/archive/2020/06/first-step-figuringout-what-police-are/612793/. Mendias, C., & Kehoe, E. J. (2006). Engagement of policing ideals and their relationship to the exercise of discretionary powers. Criminal Justice and Behavior, 33(1), 70–92. Messaris, P., & Abraham, L. (2003). The role of images in framing news stories. In S. D. Reese, O. H. Gandy, & A. E. Grant (Eds.), Framing public life: Perspectives on media and our understanding of the social world (pp. 215– 226). Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates. Miethe, T. D., Venger, O., & Lieberman, J. D. (2019). Police use of force and its video coverage: An experimental study of the impact of media source and content on public perceptions. Journal of Criminal Justice, 60, 35–46. Milbank, Tweed, Hadley, & McCloy. (2018, July 24). Milbank and civil rights group NYLPI file lawsuit in supreme court of New York for bodycam footage from first fatal police shooting since NYPD bodycam program took effect [Webpage]. Retrieved July 27, 2018, from https://www.milbank.com/en/ news/milbank-and-civil-rights-group-nylpi-file-lawsuit-in-supreme-court-ofnew-york-for-bodycam-footage-from-first-fatal-police-shooting-since-nypdbodycam-program-took-effect.html. Miller, L. (2015). Why cops kill: The psychology of police deadly force encounters. Aggression and Violent Behavior, 22(May–June), 97–111. Millington, B., Rubbo, L., & Thomas, S. (2019, August 1). Fatal police shooting of mentally ill Taree man prompts calls for better officer training. ABC News. Retrieved August 1, 2019, from https://www.abc.net.au/news/ 2019-08-01/taree-police-shoot-dead-mentally-ill-man-after-standoff/113 74086. Mindframe National Media Initiative. (2014). Mental illness & suicide in the media: A mindframe resource for police. Canberra, ACT: Commonwealth of Australia. Mitchell, G. (2008). Preventing and resolving mental health crisis health situations by working collaboratively [Churchill Fellowship Report]. Retrieved January 29, 2019, from https://www.churchilltrust.com.au/fellows/detail/3231/Mic hael+MITCHELL. Mitchell, G. (2019a, May 21). ‘Nowhere to go’: Officer who shot man at Central Station says he had no choice. The Sydney Morning Herald .

References

317

Retrieved May 21, 2019, from https://www.smh.com.au/national/nsw/now here-to-go-officer-who-shot-man-at-central-station-says-he-had-no-choice20190521-p51pk3.html. Mitchell, G. (2019b, May 25). A troubled life ended in 21 seconds when NSW police were confronted by a Sydney man. The Sydney Morning Herald . Retrieved June 10, 2019, from https://www.smh.com.au/national/ nsw/a-troubled-life-ended-in-21-seconds-when-nsw-police-were-confro nted-by-a-sydney-man-20190522-p51q8a.html. Mitchell, G. (2019c, May 24). Threat from a blade ‘cannot be understated’, Central Station police shooting inquest told. The Sydney Morning Herald . Retrieved May 26, 2019, from https://www.smh.com.au/national/nsw/thr eat-from-a-blade-cannot-be-understated-central-station-police-shooting-inq uest-told-20190524-p51qty.html. Monahan, J., & Steadman, H. (1994). Violence and mental disorder: Developments in risk assessment. Chicago: The University of Chicago Press. Monahan, J., Steadman, H. J., Silver, E., et al. (2001). Rethinking risk assessment: The MacArthur study of mental disorder and violence. Oxford, UK: Oxford University Press. Moor, K. (2005, November 26). Ill need proper care—Police. Herald Sun, p. 17. Morabito, M. S. (2014). Policing vulnerable populations. In M. D. Reisig & R. J. Kane (Eds.), The Oxford handbook of police and policing (pp. 1–18). Oxford: Oxford University Press. Morabito, M. S., & Socia, K. M. (2015). Is dangerousness a myth? Injuries and police encounters with people with mental illnesses. Criminology & Public Policy, 14 (2), 253–276. Morgan, M., & Paterson, C. (2019). ‘It’s mental health, not mental police’: A human rights approach to mental health triage and section 136 of the mental health act 1983. Policing: A Journal of Policy and Practice, 13(2), 123–133. Morris, G. (2006). Mental health issues and the media: An introduction for health professionals. London and New York: Routledge. Mourtgos, S. M., & Adams, I. T. (2019). Assessing public perceptions of police use-of-force: Legal reasonableness and community standards. Justice Quarterly, 37 (5), 869–899. Muir, R. (2020, June 5). Out of the darkness: Policing and the death of George Floyd . The Police Foundation [Blog post]. Retrieved September 2, 2020, from http://www.police-foundation.org.uk/2020/06/policing-andthe-death-of-george-floyd/.

318

References

Mulvey, E. P. (1994). Assessing the evidence of a link between mental illness and violence. Hospital and Community Psychiatry, 45 (7), 663–668. Mulvey, P., & White, M. (2014). The potential for violence in arrests of persons with mental illness. Policing: An International Journal of Police Strategies & Management, 37 (2), 404–419. Myhill, A., & Beak, K. (2008). Public confidence in police. London: National Policing Improvement Agency. National Mental Health Commission. (2014). Contributing lives, thriving communities: Report of the national review of mental health programmes and services—Summary. Sydney: National Mental Health Commission. Retrieved August 12, 2018, from http://www.mentalhealthcommission.gov. au/our-reports/our-national-report-cards/2014-contributing-lives-review. aspx. Nedim, U. (2014, December 27). Fatal police shootings—Is more weapons training needed? Sydney Criminal Lawyers [Blog post]. Retrieved January 27, 2019, from https://www.sydneycriminallawyers.com.au/blog/fatal-pol ice-shootings-is-more-weapons-training-needed/. Neuman, W. R., Just, M. R., & Crigler, A. N. (1992). Common knowledge: News and the construction of political meaning. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Newell, B. C. (2019). Context, visibility and control: Police work and the contested objectivity of bystander video. New Media & Society, 21(1), 60– 76. Nicholls, S. (2017, October 25). NSW police ‘don’t know who they have killed’. The Sydney Morning Herald . Retrieved August 12, 2018, from https://www.smh.com.au/national/nsw/nsw-police-dont-knowwho-they-have-killed-20171025-gz7pbt.html. Nix, J., & Wolfe, S. E. (2017). The impact of negative publicity on police self-legitimacy. Justice Quarterly, 34 (1), 84–108. Nobles, R., & Schiff, D. (2004). A story of miscarriage: Law in the media. Journal of Law and Society, 31(2), 221–244. Novak, K. J. (2009). Reasonable officers, public perceptions, and policy challenges. Criminology & Public Policy, 8(1), 153–161. NSW Health & NSW Police Force. (2018). NSW Health-NSW Police Force memorandum of understanding 2018. North Sydney: NSW Ministry of Health. Retrieved September 19, 2018, from https://www.health.nsw.gov. au/mentalhealth/resources/Publications/mou-health-police-2018.pdf. NSW Office of the State Coroner. (2019). Report by the NSW State Coroner into deaths in custody/police operations for the year 2018. Lidcombe, NSW:

References

319

NSW Office of the State Coroner, NSW Department of Attorney General and Justice. Retrieved June, 19, 2019, from http://www.coroners.justice.nsw. gov.au/Pages/Publications/death_custory_report.aspx. NSW Ombudsman. (2008). The use of Taser weapons by New South Wales Police Force: A special report to Parliament under section 31 of the Ombudsman Act 1974. Sydney, NSW: NSW Ombudsman. NSW Ombudsman. (2010). Annual report 2009/2010. Retrieved October 22, 2010, from http://www.ombo.nsw.gov.au/publication/PDF/annualrep ort/09-10/AR_Ombo09_Oct10.pdf. NSW Ombudsman. (2012a). How are Taser weapons used by the NSW Police Force? Sydney, NSW: NSW Ombudsman. Retrieved December 28, 2012, from http://www.ombo.nsw.gov.au/news-and-publications/publications/rep orts/police/how-are-taser-weapons-used-by-nsw-police-force. NSW Ombudsman. (2012b, October 23). Ombudsman makes recommendations for stricter, safer and more accountable Taser use [Media release]. Sydney, NSW: NSW Ombudsman. Retrieved December 28, 2012, from https:// www.ombo.nsw.gov.au/__data/assets/pdf_file/0011/6977/Media-releaseTaser-report-23-October-2012.pdf. NSW Police Force. (2008). Mental health—Introduction: Mental health intervention team [Online document]. Retrieved September 19, 2008, from http://www.police.nsw.gov.au/community_issues/mental_health. NSW Police Force. (2009, December). Mental health intervention team newsletter—December 2009. Retrieved June 29, 2010, from http://www.pol ice.nsw.gov.au. NSW Police Force. (2016). Use of conducted electrical weapons (Taser): Major events & incidents group. Sydney: NSW Police Force. Retrieved June 24, 2018, from https://www.police.nsw.gov.au/__data/assets/pdf_file/0007/456 523/TASER_Use_Public_Information.pdf. NSW Police Force. (2017a, July 26). A critical incident investigation has been launched following the death of a man during a confrontation with police in the Sydney CBD this evening [Facebook status update]. Retrieved June 10, 2019, from https://www.facebook.com/nswpoliceforce/posts/101 55056165636185. NSW Police Force. (2017b). NSW Police Force annual report 2016–17 . Sydney, NSW: NSW Police Force Public Affairs Branch. Retrieved June 22, 2018, from www.police.nsw.gov.au. NSW Police Force. (2017c, July 26). Police were called to Eddy Avenue, Sydney, just before 6.45 pm following reports of an armed robbery [Facebook status

320

References

update]. Retrieved June 10, 2019, from https://www.facebook.com/nswpol iceforce/posts/10155055870991185. NSW Police Force. (2018). Body worn video [Flyer]. Retrieved January 29, 2019, from https://www.police.nsw.gov.au/__data/assets/pdf_file/0008/586 484/Updated_Brochure_BWV.pdf. NYC PBA. (2018, September 1). Patrolmen’s Benevolent Association of the City of New York, Inc., against Bill de Blasio in his official capacity as Mayor of the City of New York, City of New York, James P. O’Neill in his official capacity as Commissioner of the New York City Police Department, and New York City Police Department. Index No. 150181/2018 [Supreme Court Petition]. Retrieved June 3, 2019, from https://www.nycpba.org/press-releases/ 2018/pba-files-suit/. NYLPI. (2018, July 19). New York lawyers for the public interest against New York City Police Department and James P. O’Neill [Supreme Court Petition]. Retrieved June 3, 2019, from https://nylpi.org/case/nylpi-v-nypd/. NYPD. (2019). NYPD completes rollout of body-worn cameras to all officers on patrol [Media Release]. Retrieved June 6, 2019, from https://www1.nyc. gov/site/nypd/news/pr0306/nypd-completes-rollout-body-worn-camerasall-officers-patrol#/0. O’Brien, A. J., & Thom, K. (2014). Police use of TASER devices in mental health emergencies: A review. International Journal of Law and Psychiatry, 37 (4), 420–426. O’Brien, T. C., Meares, T. L., & Tyler, T. R. (2020). Reconciling police and communities with apologies, acknowledgements, or both: A controlled experiment. The ANNALS of the American Academy of Political and Social Science, 687 (1), 202–215. O’Connor, C., & O’Flaherty, A. (2019, September 20). Geraldton police shooting victim Joyce Clarke’s struggles with demons revealed amid community protests. ABC News. Retrieved September 20, 2019, from https://www.abc.net.au/news/2019-09-19/police-shooting-victim-joyce-cla rke-struggle-with-demons/11528364. Office of Police Integrity, Victoria. (2009). Review of the use of force by and against Victorian police. PP No. 165, Session 2006–2009. Melbourne, VIC: Office of Police Integrity—Victoria. Office of Police Integrity, Victoria. (2010). Review of the investigation of deaths associated with police contact. Melbourne, VIC: Office of Police Integrity— Victoria. Office of Police Integrity, Victoria. (2012a). Policing people who appear to be mentally ill . Melbourne: Office of Police Integrity, Victoria. Retrieved June

References

321

12, 2015, from http://www.parliament.vic.gov.au/file_uploads/Policing_peo ple_who_appear_to_be_mentally_pyt8YbmN.pdf. Office of Police Integrity, Victoria. (2012b). Review of the investigation of deaths associated with police contact [Issues paper]. Melbourne: Office of Police Integrity, Victoria. Office of the Public Advocate—Queensland. (2005, March). Preserving life and dignity in distress: Responding to critical mental health incidents. Brisbane, QLD: Department of Justice and Attorney-General, Queensland Government. Office of the State Coroner: Findings of inquest into the police shootings of Thomas Dion Waite, Mieng Huynh, James Henry Jacobs and James Michael Gear. (2008, March 17). Coroner’s Court, Brisbane. https://www.courts.qld.gov.au/__data/assets/pdf_file/0004/86728/cifwaite-td-huynh-m-jacobs-jh-gear-jm-20080317.pdf. Ogloff, J., & Thomas, S. (2014, March 4). Training police to better respond to people with mental illness. The Conversation. Retrieved March 12, 2017, from https://theconversation.com/training-police-to-better-respondto-people-with-mental-illness-23651. Ogloff, J. R. P., Thomas, S. D. M., Luebbers, S., Baksheev, G., Elliott, I., Godfredson, J., et al. (2013). Policing services with mentally ill people: Developing greater understanding and best practice. Australian Psychologist, 48(1), 57–68. Olding, R. (2017, July 27). From church to central station: How Dan Mokmool ended up dead at the hands of police. The Sydney Morning Herald . Retrieved February 1, 2019, from https://www.smh.com.au/nat ional/nsw/from-church-to-central-station-how-dan-mokmool-ended-updead-at-the-hands-of-police-20170727-gxjy81.html. Open Government NSW. (2018). GIPA to police: Deaths from police operations. Retrieved June 24, 2018, from http://opengovernmentnsw.org.au/dow nload/gipa-to-police-deaths-from-police-operations/. Owens, C., & Finn, W. (2018). Body-worn video through the lens of a cluster randomized controlled trial in London: Implications for future research. Policing: A Journal of Policy and Practice, 12(1), 77–82. Palmer, D. (1995). Excessive force: Beyond police shootings: Use of force and governing the Victorian police force. Alternative Law Journal, 20 (2), 53–56. Palmer, R. (2018). Becoming the news: How ordinary people respond to the media spotlight. New York: Columbia University Press.

322

References

Pantti, M. (2010). The value of emotion: An examination of television journalists’ notions on emotionality. European Journal of Communication, 25 (2), 168–181. Papacharissi, Z. (2014). Affective publics: Sentiment, technology, and politics. New York: Oxford University Press. Papadopoulos, N. (1997, July 5). Fatal Force. The Sydney Morning Herald , p. 29. Park, S., Fisher, C., Lee, J. Y., McGuinness, K., Sang, Y., O’Neil, M., et al. (2020). Digital news report: Australia 2020. Canberra, ACT: News and Media Research Centre, University of Canberra. Parker, A. (1998, July 4). Police are just doing their job [Letter to the Editor]. Illawarra Mercury, p. 8. Patch, P. C., & Arrigo, B. A. (1999). Police officer attitudes and use of discretion in situations involving the mentally ill: The need to narrow the focus. International Journal of Law and Psychiatry, 22(1), 23–35. Paterson, B. (2006). Newspaper representations of mental illness and the impact of the reporting of ‘events’ on social policy: The ‘framing’ of Isabel Schwarz and Jonathan Zito. Journal of Psychiatric and Mental Health Nursing, 13(3), 294–300. Patty, A. (2008, May 19). He’d be alive if we had tasers: Police chief. The Sydney Morning Herald , p. 3. Pearce, M. (2014, September 27). Growing use of police body cameras raises privacy concerns. Los Angeles Times. Retrieved June 3, 2019, from https:// www.latimes.com/nation/la-na-body-cameras-20140927-story.html. Pemberton, S. (2008). Demystifying deaths in police custody: Challenging state talk. Social & Legal Studies, 17 (2), 237–262. Pennell, B. (2017, March). Police methods: The siege at Adjungbilly. Australian Police Journal , 6–41. Perez, A., Leifman, S., & Estrada, A. (2003). Reversing the criminalization of mental illness. Crime and Delinquency, 49 (1), 62–78. PERF. (2018, April). Costs and benefits of body-worn camera deployments: Final report. Washington, DC: Police Executive Research Forum. Pesutto, J. (2019, June 9). A fine line between being just and being seen to be just. The Age, p. 36. Petersen, J. (2011). Murder, the media, and the politics of public feelings: Remembering Matthew Shepard and James Byrd Jr. Bloomington, IN: Indiana University Press. Peterson, B. E., & Lawrence, D. S. (2019, January). Body cameras and policing. Oxford Research Encyclopedia of Criminology and Criminal Justice.

References

323

Retrieved June 1, 2019, from https://oxfordre.com/criminology/view/10. 1093/acrefore/9780190264079.001.0001/acrefore-9780190264079-e-524. Phelps, J. M., Strype, J., Le Bellu, S., Lahlou, S., & Aandal, J. (2018). Experiential learning and simulation-based training in Norwegian Police education: Examining body-worn video as tool to encourage reflection. Policing: A Journal of Policy and Practice, 12(1), 50–65. Phillips, D. (1998, June 2). Close-up picture an appalling ad for violence [Letter to the Editor]. Illawarra Mercury, p. 10. Philo, G. (Ed.). (1996). Media and mental distress. London: Longman. Philo, G., Henderson, L., & McLaughlin, G. (1994). Mass media representations of mental health/illness. Glasgow: Glasgow University Media Group. Pinto, S. M. (2004). Police response to mentally ill persons in crisis. Unpublished doctoral thesis, The Chicago School of Professional Psychology. Pirkis, J., Blood, R. W., Dare, A., & Holland, K. (2008). The media monitoring project changes in media reporting of suicide and mental health and illness in Australia: 2000/01–2006/07 . Canberra, ACT: Commonwealth of Australia. Pirkis, J., Blood, R. W., Francis, C., Putnis, P., Burgess, P., Morley, B., et al. (2002). The media monitoring project: A baseline description of how the Australian media report and portray suicide and mental health and illness. Canberra, ACT: Commonwealth Department of Health and Aged Care. Police Commissioners’ Policy Advisory Group. (1992). National guidelines: Police use of lethal force. In National Guidelines Compendium. Report Series No. 123. Payneham, SA: National Police Research Unit. Police Federation of Australia. (2005, May 10). Submission to the senate select committee on mental health. Canberra, ACT: Police Federation of Australia. Police Integrity Commission. (2001). Report to Parliament: Operation Saigon. Sydney, NSW: Police Integrity Commission. Police Integrity Commission. (2017, May). Project Harlequin: Audit of the NSW Police Force investigations into 83 critical incidents occurring between 1 January 2009 and 30 June 2012. Sydney: State of New South Wales Through the Police Integrity Commission. Pollack, H. A., & Humphreys, K. (2020). Reducing violent incidents between police officers and people with psychiatric or substance use disorders. The ANNALS of the American Academy of Political and Social Science, 687 (1), 166–184. Porter, R. (2008, December 13). The trauma of killing someone never goes. Herald Sun. Retrieved December 15, 2008, from http://www.news.com.au/ heraldsun/story/024792275-286200.html.

324

References

Posetti, J. (2014, July 29). Is social media to blame for the increasingly graphic images in our newspapers? World News Publishing Focus [Blog post]. Paris: WAN-IFRA. Retrieved July 30, 2014, from https://blog.wan-ifra.org/2014/ 07/29/is-social-media-to-blame-for-the-increasingly-graphic-images-in-ournewspapers. Pratt, J. (1995, June 1). Dangerousness in historical context. Paper presented at the Public Seminar on Reason, Disorder and Dangerousness, Institute of Criminology, University of Sydney, State Library of New South Wales. Premier of New South Wales. (2009, September 6). NSW Government Delivers Tasers for NSW Police. [Media Release]. Retrieved September 27, 2009, from http://www.police.nsw.gov.au/about_us/?a=161991. Price, V., Tewksbury, D., & Powers, E. (1997). Switching trains of thought: The impact of news frames on readers’ cognitive responses. Communication Research, 24 (5), 481–506. Productivity Commission. (2019a, January). The social and economic benefits of improving mental health [Issues Paper]. Canberra, ACT: Australian Government. Retrieved June 3, 2019, from https://www.pc.gov.au/inquiries/cur rent/mental-health/issues. Productivity Commission. (2019b, October). Mental health: Productivity commission draft report volume 1. Canberra: Commonwealth of Australia. Retrieved October 31, 2019, from https://www.pc.gov.au/inquiries/current/ mental-health/draft. QPS Violent Confrontations Review Team, Operational Capability Command. (2016). QPS violent confrontations review. Brisbane: Queensland Police Service. Retrieved August 20, 2020, from https://www.police.qld.gov.au/que ensland-police-service-corporate-documents/reports-and-publications. Queensland Crime and Misconduct Commission. (2008). Tasers: A brief overview of the research literature [Research & Issues Paper Series, No. 8, November 2008]. Fortitude Valley, QLD: Crime and Misconduct Commission. Queensland Forensic Mental Health Service. (2016). Police communications centre mental health liaison service: Evaluation report. Retrieved August 20, 2018, from https://www.qmhc.qld.gov.au/documents/evaluationreportpolic ecommunicationscentrementalhealthliaisonservicepdf. Queensland Government. (2018). Inquest into the death of Bradley Karl Coolwell [Government response to coronial recommendations]. Retrieved August 20, 2018, from https://www.justice.qld.gov.au/__data/assets/pdf_file/0009/564 840/qgr-coolwell-bk-20180501.pdf.

References

325

Quinn, B., Laville, S., & Duncan, P. (2016, January 28). Mental health crisis takes huge and increasing share of police time. The Guardian. Retrieved September 7, 2017, from https://www.theguardian.com/uk-news/2016/jan/ 27/mental-health-crisis-huge-increasing-share-police-time-40. Rabb, D., Karim, A. A., Mirza, M. Z., & Rosengarten, A. (2018, June 8). In Milwaukee, $1.2 million police mental health training plan misses the mark. Milwaukee Sentinel Journal Retrieved August 9, 2018, from https://www.jsonline.com/story/news/investigations/2018/06/ 08/resentful-officers-dub-mental-health-program-hug-thug/680618002/. Rahr, S., & Rice, S. K. (2015). From warriors to guardians: Recommitting American Police culture to democratic ideals. New Perspectives in Policing Bulletin. Washington, DC: US Department of Justice, National Institute of Justice. Rajendran, R. (2004). Told nervous shock: Has the pendulum swung in favour of recovery by television viewers? Deakin Law Review, 9 (2), 731–757. Rajakaruna, N., Henry, P. J., Cutler, A., & Fairman, G. (2017). Ensuring the validity of police use of force training. Police Practice and Research: An International Journal, 18(5), 507–521. Redacted finding into Death with Inquest: Tyler Jordan Cassidy—Part 2. (2011, November 23). Coroner’s Court of Victoria, Melbourne. https://www.cor onerscourt.vic.gov.au/sites/default/files/2018-12/tylercassidypart2_554208. pdf. Reiner, R., & Newburn, T. (2008). Police research. In R. D. King & E. Wincup (Eds.), Doing research on crime and justice (2nd ed., pp. 343–374). Oxford: Oxford University Press. Rentschler, C. A. (2010). Trauma training and the reparative work of journalism. Cultural Studies, 24 (4), 447–477. Reuland, M., & Margolis, G. (2003). Police approaches that improve the responses to people with mental illnesses: A focus on victims. The Police Chief: The Professional Voice of Law Enforcement, 70 (11), 7. Rich v Attorney-General of NSW . (2013). NSWCA 419. (Austl.). https://www. caselaw.nsw.gov.au/decision/54a63c173004de94513db5e0. Richards, I. (2009). Managing the margins: How journalism reports the vulnerable. Asia Pacific Media Educator, 1(19), 15–22. Richardson, J. B., St. Vil, C., & Cooper, C. (2016). Who Shot Ya? How emergency departments can collect reliable police shooting data. Journal of Urban Health, 93(1) Supplement, 8–31. Ricketson, M., & Wake, A. (2019, March 6). Media companies on notice over traumatised journalists after landmark court decision. The Conversation.

326

References

Retrieved July 21, 2020, from https://theconversation.com/media-compan ies-on-notice-over-traumatised-journalists-after-landmark-court-decision112766. Rigby, B. (2020, August 12). Annika Smethurst takes sabbatical from industry due to ‘heavy toll’ of AFP raid. Mumbrella. Retrieved August 12, 2020, from https://mumbrella.com.au/annika-smethurst-takes-sabbatical-from-ind ustry-due-to-heavy-toll-of-afp-raid-638430. Rivera, M. (2019, May 23). Chicago police using virtual reality for mental health crisis training. ABC7 Eyewitness News. Retrieved July 21, 2019, from https://abc7chicago.com/cpd-using-virtual-reality-for-men tal-health-crisis-training/5312983/. Roberts, D. (2018, December 26). My advice for aspiring explainer journalists. Vox. Retrieved December 31, 2018, from https://www.vox.com/science-andhealth/2018/12/7/18117404/advice-for-journalists-news-media. Robertson, J. (2014, November 25). Queensland police shootings to be reviewed after four deaths in two months. The Guardian. Retrieved January 27, 2019, from https://www.theguardian.com/australia-news/2014/nov/ 25/queensland-police-shootings-to-be-reviewed-after-four-deaths-in-twomonths. Robotham, J. (2008, December 4). Police to stop transfer of patients. The Sydney Morning Herald . Retrieved May 6, 2009, from http://www.smh. com.au/news/national/police-to-stop-transfer-of-patients/2008/12/03/122 8257139023.html. Rosenberg, S., Hickie, I., & Mendoza, J. (2009). National mental health reform: Less talk, more action. The Medical Journal of Australia, 190 (4), 193–195. Rosenman, S. (1994). Mental health law: An idea whose time has passed. Australian and New Zealand Journal of Psychiatry, 28(4), 560–565. Rossall, P. (2011). News media representations of homelessness: Do economic news production pressures prevent journalists from adequately reporting complex social issues. ejournalist, 11(2), 95–124. Rossler, M. T., & Terrill, W. (2017). Mental illness, police use of force, and citizen injury. Police Quarterly, 20 (2), 189–212. Roth, A. (2018a). Insane: America’s criminal treatment of mental illness. New York: Basic Books. Roth, A. (2018b, May 30). A worried mom wanted the police to take her mentally ill son to the hospital: They shot him. Vox. Retrieved June 19, 2018, from https://www.vox.com/the-big-idea/2018/5/30/17406900/ police-shootings-mental-illness-book-vidal-vassey-mental-health.

References

327

Royal Commission into Victoria’s Mental Health System. (2019a). Royal Commission into Victoria’s mental health system on Thursday, 11 July 2019 at 10.00 am (Day 8) [Transcript of public hearings]. Melbourne Town Hall, Melbourne, Victoria. Retrieved July 17, 2019, from https://rcvmhs.vic.gov. au/hearings. Royal Commission into Victoria’s Mental Health System. (2019b, November). Interim report. Parl Paper No. 87 (2018–2019). Melbourne: State of Victoria. Rudd, A. (2019). The expanded ambiguity of the news photograph. NiemanLab Predictions for Journalism 2020. Cambridge, MA: NiemanLab. Retrieved December 20, 2019, from https://www.niemanlab.org/2019/12/ the-expanded-ambiguity-of-the-news-photograph/. Ruiz, J., & Miller, C. (2004). An exploratory study of Pennsylvania police officers’ perceptions of dangerousness and their ability to manage persons with mental illness. Police Quarterly, 7 (3), 359–371. Sanburn, J. (2014, August 15). Why cops in Ferguson don’t have body cameras. TIME . Retrieved June 7, 2019, from http://time.com/3114329/fergusonmichael-brown-police-body-cameras/. Sánchez Laws, A. L., & Utne, T. (2019, April 24). Ethics guidelines for immersive journalism. Frontiers in Robotics and AI, 6 (28). https://doi.org/10.3389/ frobt.2019.00028. SANE Australia. (2016). Fact vs myth: Mental health issues & violence [Webpage]. Retrieved August 2, 2020, from https://www.sane.org/inform ation-stories/facts-and-guides/fvm-mental-illness-and-violence. Sarre, R. (2018, March 21). Charges in Justine Damond case a reminder of the dangers of a ‘warrior cop’ mentality. The Conversation. Retrieved March 28, 2018, from https://theconversation.com/charges-in-justine-damond-case-areminder-of-the-dangers-of-a-warrior-cop-mentality-93725. Sasson, T. (1995). Crime talk: How citizens construct a social problem. New York: Aldine De Gruyter. Sced, M. (2006). Mental illness in the community: The role of police. ACPR Issues No. 3. Retrieved October 9, 2006, from http://www.acpr.gov.au/pdf/ Iss_3%20Mental.pdf. Scharf, P., & Binder, A. (1983). The badge and the bullet: Police use of deadly force. New York: Praeger. Schneider, C. J. (2018). Body worn cameras and police image work: News media coverage of the Rialto Police department’s body worn camera experiment. Crime Media Culture, 14 (3), 449–466.

328

References

Schneider, C. J. (2016). Policing and social media: Social control in an era of new media. Lanham, MD: Lexington Books. Schudson, M. (2018). Why journalism still matters. Cambridge: Polity Press. Schwalbe, C. B. (2006). Remembering our shared past: Visually framing the Iraq war on U.S. news websites. Journal of Computer-Mediated Communication, 12(1), 264–289. Semetko, H. A., & Valkenburg, P. M. (2000). Framing European politics: A content analysis of press and television news. Journal of Communication, 50 (2), 93–109. Senate Select Committee on Mental Health. (2006). A national approach to mental health—From crisis to community (First report). Canberra, ACT: Commonwealth of Australia. Shane, J., & Swenson, Z. (2019). Unarmed and dangerous: Patterns of threats by citizens during deadly force encounters with police. New York: Routledge. Shapiro, B. (1995, April 3). One violent crime. The Nation, pp. 1, 445–452. Sherman, L. W. (2020). Evidence-based policing and fatal police shootings: Promise, problems and prospects. The ANNALS of the American Academy of Political and Social Science, 687 (1), 8–26. Sherman, L. W., & Langworthy, R. H. (1982). Measuring homicide by police officers. In J. J. Fyfe (Ed.), Readings on police use of deadly force (pp. 12–41). Washington, DC: Police Foundation. Shircore, M. (2006). Police liability for negligent investigations: When will a duty of care arise? Deakin Law Review, 11(1), 33–62. Shircore, M. (2012). Shoot first establish liability later: The duty of care owed to mentally ill persons. Journal of the Australasian Law Teachers Association, 5 (1–2), 255–263. Shoebridge, D. (2012, March 20). Tasers don’t reduce police firearms use—Review required [Media opinion piece]. Retrieved July 15, 2019, from https://dav idshoebridge.org.au/2012/03/20/tasers-dont-reduce-police-firearms-use/. Shoebridge, D. (2018, March 5). Police are undertrained and without support, people with mental illness are paying with their lives [Media Release]. Retrieved June 22, 2018, from http://davidshoebridge.org.au/2018/03/05/ media-release-police-are-undertrained-and-without-support-people-withmental-illness-are-paying-with-their-lives/. Short, T. B. R., MacDonald, C., Luebbers, S., Ogloff, J. R. P., & Thomas, S. D. M. (2014). The nature of police involvement in mental health transfers. Police practice and research: An international journal, 15 (4), 336–348. Sieff, E. (2003). Media frames of mental illnesses: The potential impact of negative frames. Journal of Mental Health, 12(3), 259–269.

References

329

Silvester, J. (1994, November 6). Shootings—Police may sue state. The Sunday Age, p. 1. Simmons, A. (2012, March 29). A history of Tasers in Australia. ABC News. Retrieved July 15, 2019, from https://www.abc.net.au/news/2012-03-23/tas ers-in-australia/3905914. Simpson, R., & Coté, W. (2006). Covering violence: A guide to ethical reporting about victims and trauma (2nd ed.). New York: Columbia University Press. Skolnick, J. H., & Fyfe, J. J. (1993). Above the law: Police and the excessive use of force. New York: The Free Press. Slattery, L. (1998, March 7). After death, cold reality dawns on fatal shore. The Weekend Australian, p. 3. Smith, J. J. (2019). To adopt or not to adopt: Contextualizing police bodyworn cameras through structural contingency and institutional theoretical perspectives. Criminal Justice Review, 44 (3), 369–385. Smykla, J. O., Crow, M. S., Crichlow, V. J., & Snyder, J. A. (2016). Police body-worn cameras: Perceptions of law enforcement leadership. American Journal of Criminal Justice, 41(3), 424–443. Snyder, J. A., Crow, M. S., & Smykla, J. O. (2019). Police officer and supervisor perceptions of body-worn cameras pre- and postimplementation: The importance of officer buy-in. Criminal Justice Review, 44 (3), 322–338. Sontag, S. (1977). On photography. New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux. Sontag, S. (2003). Regarding the pain of others. London: Hamish Hamilton. Soomro, S., & Yanos, P. T. (2019). Predictors of mental health stigma among police officers: The role of trauma and PTSD. Journal of Police and Criminal Psychology, 34 (2), 175–183. Sorenson, J. R., Marquart, J. W., & Brock, D. E. (1993). Factors related to killings of felons by police officers. Justice Quarterly, 10 (3), 417–440. Southall, A., & Goldstein, J. (2017, September 14). Police release body camera footage of shooting death in Bronx. The New York Times. Retrieved July 27, 2018, from https://www.nytimes.com/2017/09/14/nyregion/policebody-camera-footage-new-york.html. Southall, A., & Mays, J. C. (2017, September 7). Police consider releasing body camera footage in fatal Bronx shooting. The New York Times. Retrieved July 27, 2018, from https://www.nytimes.com/2017/09/07/nyregion/bronx-pol ice-shooting-body-cameras.html. Soyka, M. (2000). Substance misuse, psychiatric disorder and violent and disturbed behaviour. British Journal of Psychiatry, 176 (4), 345–350.

330

References

Springvale Monash Legal Service Inc. (2005a). Police training and mental illness—A time for change. Springvale, VIC: Springvale Monash Legal Service Inc. Retrieved August 4, 2006, from http://www.smls.com.au. Squires, P. (2017, February 14). Police prefer to carry tasers—But would that make anyone safer? The Conversation. Retrieved July 12, 2019, from https://theconversation.com/police-prefer-to-carry-tasers-butwould-that-make-anyone-safer-71646. Stanford, S. (2012). Critically reflecting on being ‘at risk’ and ‘a risk’ in vulnerable people policing. In I. Bartkowiak-Théron & N. L. Asquith (Eds.), Policing vulnerability (pp. 20–32). Annandale: Federation Press. Stanyon, W., Goodman, B., & Whitehouse, M. (2014). Using simulation to educate police about mental illness: A collaborative initiative. Gateways: International Journal of Community Research and Engagement, 7 (1), 52–66. State Coroner’s Office. (2001). Report by the NSW State Coroner into the deaths in custody/police operations 2001. Sydney: NSW Attorney General’s Department. State of Victoria & Ors v Richards. (2010). VSCA 113. (Austl.). https://pin point.cch.com.au/document/legauUio1663371sl245905355/state-of-vic toria-ors-v-richards. Steadman, H. J., Deane, M. W., Borum, R., & Morrissey, J. P. (2000). Comparing outcomes of major models of police responses to mental health emergencies. Psychiatric Services, 51(5), 645–649. Steadman, H. J., Mulvey, E. P., Monahan, J., Robbins, P. C., Appelbaum, P. S., Grisso, T., et al. (1998). Violence by people discharged from acute psychiatric inpatient facilities and by others in the same neighborhoods. Archives of General Psychiatry, 55 (5), 393–401. Steering Committee for the Review of Government Service Provision. (2019). Report on government services 2019: Part C, chapter 7 (courts). Melbourne: Productivity Commission. Retrieved June 19, 2019, from https://www.pc.gov.au/research/ongoing/report-on-governmentservices/2019/justice/courts. Stephey, M. J. (2007, August 8). De-criminalizing mental illness. Time Magazine. Retrieved February 1, 2010, from http://www.time.com/time/health/ article/0,8599,1651002,00.html. Stewart, M. (2018, July 23). Police recruits get just eight hours training for dealing with mental health callouts. stuff.co.nz. Retrieved August 2, 2018, from https://www.stuff.co.nz/national/health/105550920/Police-rec ruits-get-just-eight-hours-training-for-dealing-with-mental-health-callouts.

References

331

Stoughton, S. W. (2014, December 12). How police training contributes to avoidable deaths. The Atlantic. Retrieved August 3, 2020, from https:// www.theatlantic.com/national/archive/2014/12/police-gun-shooting-tra ining-ferguson/383681/. Stroud, M. (2019). Thin blue lie: The failure of high-tech policing. New York: Metropolitan Books, Henry Holt and Company. Studdert, D. M., Walter, S. J., Kemp, C., & Sutherland, G. (2016). Duration of death investigations that proceed to inquest in Australia. Injury Prevention, 22(5), 314–320. Sullivan, K. (1998). Managing the ‘sensitive’ interview: A personal account. Nurse Researcher, 6 (2), 72–85. Sutton, M. (2019, October 19). Batman-style gun offered to Australian police as ‘less painful alternative’ to pepper spray and tasers. ABC News. Retrieved October 19, 2019, from https://www.abc.net.au/news/2019-10-19/batmangun-lands-in-australia-as-weapon-alternative/11608214. Swanson, J., Estroff, S., Swartz, M., Borum, R., Lachicotte, W., Zimmer, C., et al. (1997). Violence and severe mental disorder in clinical and community populations: The effects of psychotic symptoms, comorbidity, and lack of treatment. Psychiatry, 60 (1), 1–22. Syme, H. (2002, September 4). Mental health and the criminal justice system. Paper presented at a Public Seminar on Mental Health and the Criminal Justice System, Institute of Criminology, University of Sydney, Australia. Tagg, J. (1988). The burden of representation: Essays on photographies and histories. Basingstoke, UK: Macmillan Education. Tait, S. (2011). Bearing witness, journalism and moral responsibility. Media, Culture & Society, 33(8), 1220–1235. Tankard, J. W. (2003). The empirical approach to the study of media framing. In S. D. Reese, O. H. Gandy, & A. E. Grant (Eds.), Framing public life: Perspectives on media and our understanding of the social world (pp. 95–106). Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates. ‘Taser Firestorm’. (2012, March 21). The Daily Telegraph, p. 1. Task Force Victor. (1994, October 21). Police shootings: A question of balance. Melbourne, VIC: Task Force Victor. Tate, J., Jenkins, J., Rich, S., Muyskens, J., Elliott, K., Mellnik, T., & Williams, A. (2016, July 7). How The Washington Post is examining police shootings in the United States. The Washington Post. Retrieved June 15, 2019, from https://www.washingtonpost.com/national/how-the-washington-post-is-exa mining-police-shootings-in-the-united-states/2016/07/07/d9c52238-43ad11e6-8856-f26de2537a9d_story.html?utm_term=.9bd308e5bbdf.

332

References

Taylor, A. (2017, April 28). Mental health in Australia needs reform, not just more money: Ian Hickie. The Sydney Morning Herald . Retrieved September 7, 2017, from http://www.smh.com.au/national/health/mental-health-inaustralia-needs-reform-not-just-more-money-ian-hickie-20170428-gvugth. html. Taylor, E. (2016). Lights, camera, redaction…police body-worn cameras: Autonomy, discretion and accountability. Surveillance & Society, 14 (1), 128–132. Taylor, E., Lee, M., Willis, M., & Gannoni, A. (2017). Police detainee perspectives on police body-worn cameras [Trends & issues in crime and criminal justice, no. 537, October]. Canberra, ACT: Australian Institute of Criminology. Taylor, L. (2020). The Guardian’s role in the Australian mediascape. Australian Journalism Review, 42(1), 13–22. Teller, J. L. S., Munetz, M. R., Gil, K. M., & Ritter, C. (2006). Crisis intervention team training for police officers responding to mental disturbance calls. Psychiatric Services, 57 (2), 232–237. Teplin, L. A., & Pruett, N. S. (1992). Police as streetcorner psychiatrists: Managing the mentally ill. International Journal of Law & Psychiatry, 15 (2), 139–156. Teresa Klein and Ors v The State of New South Wales. (2005). NSWSC 1341. (Austl.). http://www8.austlii.edu.au/cgi-bin/viewdoc/au/cases/nsw/ NSWSC/2005/1341.html. Terrill. (2005). Police use of force: A transactional approach. Justice Quarterly, 22(1), 107–138. Tewksbury, D., & Scheufele, D. A. (2009). News framing theory and research. In J. Bryant & M. B. Oliver (Eds.), Media effects: Advances in theory and research (3rd ed., pp. 17–33). New York: Routledge. ‘The Guns of Adjungbilly—Part 1’. (2005, September 12). Australian Story [Television broadcast]. Sydney, NSW: ABC TV. ‘The Guns of Adjungbilly—Part 2’. (2005, September 19). Australian Story [Television broadcast]. Sydney, NSW: ABC TV. The Leadership Conference on Civil and Human Rights & Upturn. (2017). Police body worn cameras: A policy scorecard . Retrieved January 30, 2019, from https://www.bwcscorecard.org/. ‘THE NIGHT TERROR CAME TO YORK ST: Cops are ‘gung-ho”. (1998, May 28). Illawarra Mercury, p. 2. ‘THE NIGHT TERROR CAME TO YORK ST: Family pleads for full inquiry’. (1998, May 28). Illawarra Mercury, p. 2.

References

333

‘THE NIGHT TERROR CAME TO YORK ST: Minister defends police shooting’. (1998, May 28). Illawarra Mercury, p. 2. ‘THE NIGHT TERROR CAME TO YORK ST: Police had to shoot to kill: Union’. (1998, May 28). Illawarra Mercury, p. 3. Thomas, S., & Watson, A. (2017). A focus for mental health training for police. Journal of Criminological Research, Policy and Practice, 3(2), 93–104. Thompson, J. B. (2005). The new visibility. Theory, Culture & Society, 22(6), 31–51. Ticehurst, A., Napier, S., & Bricknell, S. (2018). National deaths in custody program: Deaths in custody in Australia 2013–14 and 2014–15. Statistical Reports No. 5. Canberra: Australian Institute of Criminology. Retrieved June 7, 2019, from https://aic.gov.au/publications/sr/sr5. Tiegreen, S., & Newman, E. (2008). The effects of news “frames” . Dart Center for Journalism & Trauma. Retrieved May 25, 2012, from http://dartcenter. org/content/effect-news-frames. Todak, N., & James, L. (2018). A systematic social observation study of police de-escalation tactics. Police Quarterly, 24 (4), 509–543. Torrey, E. F. (1994). Violent behaviour by individuals with serious mental illness. Hospital and Community Psychiatry, 45 (7), 653–662. Traquina, N. (2004). Theory consolidation in the study of journalism: A comparative analysis of the news coverage of the HIV/AIDS issue in four countries. Journalism, 5 (1), 97–116. Tulloch, J. (2008). Culture and risk. In J. O. Zinn (Ed.), Social theories of risk and uncertainty: An introduction (pp. 138–167). Oxford: Blackwell Publishing. Tumarkin, M. (2005). Traumascapes: The power and fate of places transformed by tragedy. Melbourne, VIC: Melbourne University Press. Turvill, W. (2015, May 1). UK police forces spend more than £36m a year on PR and communications. PressGazette. Retrieved May 5, 2016, from http://www.pressgazette.co.uk/uk-police-forces-spend-morethan-36m-a-year-on-pr-and-communications. University of Sydney & Community Mental Health Australia. (2018). Mind the gap: The National Disability Insurance Scheme and psychosocial disability— Final report: Stakeholder identified gaps and solutions. Sydney: University of Sydney Policy Lab & Community Mental Health Australia. Retrieved August 12, 2018, from https://sydney.edu.au/news-opinion/news/2018/01/ 30/report-identifies-ndis-gaps-for-people-living-with-mental-illnes.html. U.S. Department of Justice. (2015, September 21). Justice department awards over $23 million in funding for body worn camera pilot program to support

334

References

law enforcement agencies in 32 states [Media Release]. Retrieved June 3, 2019, from https://www.justice.gov/opa/pr/justice-department-awards-over-23-mil lion-funding-body-worn-camera-pilot-program-support-law. U.S. Department of Justice Civil Rights Division. (2012). Investigation of the Portland Police Bureau [Letter of Findings]. Washington, DC: U.S. Department of Justice. Retrieved August 9, 2018, from https://www.justice.gov/ iso/opa/resources/9362012917111254750409.pdf. U.S. Department of Justice & United States Attorney’s Office for the Northern District of Illinois. (2017, January 13). Investigation of the Chicago police department. Retrieved June 3, 2019, from https://www.justice.gov/opa/file/ 925846/download. Üstün, T. B. (1999). The global burden of mental disorders. American Journal of Public Health, 89 (9), 1315–1318. van Dijk, A., & Crofts, N. (2017). Law enforcement and public health as an emerging field. Policing & Society, 27 (3), 261–275. van Dijk, A. J., Herrington, V., Crofts, N., Breunig, R., Burris, S., Sullivan, H., et al. (2019). Law enforcement and public health: Recognition and enhancement of joined-up solutions. Lancet, 393, 287–294. Van Maanen, J. (1980). Beyond account: The personal impact of police shootings. Annals of the American Academy of Political and Social Science, 452, 145–156. Victoria Police. (1995). Project Beacon: Overview of progress. Melbourne: Victoria Police. Accessed via JV Barry Library at the Australian Institute of Criminology, Canberra, Australia (21 May 2008). Victoria Police. (2008). Victoria Police submission on the Green Paper: Because mental health matters. Melbourne: Victoria Police Centre. Retrieved May 6, 2009, from http://www.health.vic.gov.au/mentalhealth/mhactreview/submis sions.htm. Victoria Police. (2016, May). Victoria Police mental health review: An independent review into the mental health and wellbeing of Victoria Police employees. Melbourne: Victoria Police. Retrieved July 28, 2019, from https://www.pol ice.vic.gov.au/mental-health-strategy. Visentin, L. (2016, June 24). ‘In a way I feel sorry for them’: Adrian Salter on the police officers involved in his son’s death. The Sydney Morning Herald . Retrieved July 31, 2019, from https://www.smh.com.au/national/nsw/ina-way-i-feel-sorry-for-them-adrian-salter-on-the-police-officers-involved-inhis-sons-death-20160624-gpqz3y.html. Vitale, A. S. (2018). The end of policing. London and New York: Verso.

References

335

Waddington, P. A. J. (1991). The strong arm of the law: Armed and public order policing. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Waddington, P. A. J. (2012). Cop culture. In T. Newburn & J. Peay (Eds.), Policing: Politics, culture and control—Essays in honour of Robert Reiner (pp. 89–109). Oxford and Portland, Oregon: Hart Publishing. Wahl, O. (1992). Mass media images of mental illness: a review of the literature. Journal of Community Psychology, 20 (4), 343–352. Wahl, O. (1995). Media madness: Public images of mental illness. New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers University Press. Wahl, O. (2003). News media portrayal of mental illness: Implications for public policy. American Behavioral Scientist, 46 (12), 1594–1600. Wahl-Jorgensen, K. (2013). The strategic ritual of emotionality: A case study of Pulitzer-prize winning articles. Journalism, 14 (1), 129–145. Wahl-Jorgensen, K. (2019a, June 25). Intimacy, emotion, and journalism. Oxford Research Encyclopedia of communication. Retrieved November 27, 2019, from https://oxfordre.com/communication/view/10.1093/acrefore/ 9780190228613.001.0001/acrefore-9780190228613-e-823. Wahl-Jorgensen, K. (2019b). Emotions, media and politics. Cambridge: Polity Press. Wahl-Jorgensen, K. (2019c, July–September). Questioning the ideal of the public sphere: The emotional turn. Social Media + Society, 5 (3), 1–3. Wahlquist, C. (2019, September 19). Geraldton shooting: Questions raised over WA police decision to use lethal force. The Guardian. Retrieved September 20, 2019, from https://www.theguardian.com/australia-news/ 2019/sep/19/geraldton-shooting-questions-raised-over-wa-police-decisionto-use-lethal-force. Waisbord, A., & Russell, A. (2020). News flashpoints: Networked journalism and waves of coverage of social problems. Journalism & Mass Communication Quarterly, 97 (2), 376–392. Wall, T., & Owen, C. (2017). Why are more people being shot by cops? UNDER FIRE. Stuff . Retrieved October 10, 2019, from https://interacti ves.stuff.co.nz/2017/11/under-fire/. Walsh, J. P., & O’Connor, C. (2019). Social media and policing: A review of recent research. Sociology Compass, 13(1), 1–14. Walters, B. (2005, April 8). Accounting for the lethal force. The Age. Retrieved May 16, 2009, from http://www.theage.com.au/news/Opinion/Accountingfor-the-lethal-force/2005/04/07/1112815666095.html. Walton, M. (2017). Spokesperson’s message: Detective superintendent Mark Walton, corporate spokesperson—Mental health. Retrieved August 24,

336

References

2017, from http://www.police.nsw.gov.au/community_safety/your_comm unity/mental_health. Walton, M. (2018). Corporate sponsor’s message: Assistant commissioner Mark Walton APM, corporate sponsor—Mental health. Retrieved July 18, 2019, from https://www.police.nsw.gov.au/safety_and_prevention/your_c ommunity/mental_health. Wardle, C. (2006). “IT COULD HAPPEN TO YOU”: The moves towards “personal” and “societal” narratives in newspaper coverage of child murder, 1930–2000. Journalism Studies, 7 (4), 515–533. Watson, A. C., & Angell, B. (2007). Applying procedural justice theory to law enforcement’s response to persons with mental illness. Psychiatric Services, 58(6), 787–793. Watson, A. C., Angell, B., Morabito, M. S., & Robinson, N. (2008). Defying negative expectations: Dimensions of fair and respectful treatment by police officers as perceived by people with mental illness. Administration and Policy in Mental Health and Mental Health Services Research, 35 (6), 449–457. Watson, A. C., Corrigan, P. W., & Ottati, V. (2004). Police officers’ attitudes toward and decisions about persons with mental illness. Psychiatric Services, 55 (1), 49–53. Watson, A. C., & Fulambarker, A. J. (2012). The crisis intervention team model of police response to mental health crises: A primers for mental health practitioners. Best Practices in Mental Health: An International Journal, 8(2), 71–81. Weber, M. (1919). Politics as a vocation. In D. Owen & T. B. Strong (Eds.), The SAGE handbook of digital journalism (pp. 32–94). Trans. by R. Livingstone. Indianapolis, IN: Hackett. Weichselbaum, S. (2016, April 19). The ‘Chicago model’ of policing hasn’t saved Chicago: Why is everyone else copying it? The Marshall Project. Retrieved July 23, 2018, from https://www.themarshallproject.org/2016/04/ 19/the-chicago-model-of-policing-hasn-t-saved-chicago. Weitzer, R. (2002). Incidents of police misconduct and public opinion. Journal of Criminal Justice, 20, 397–408. Welch, D., & Taflaga, M. (2010, July 6). Taser abuse covered up by police. The Sydney Morning Herald , p. 1. Wells, J. (2019, May 20). Man shot dead by police at Sydney’s central station ‘may have suffered psychosis’. ABC News. Retrieved June 10, 2019, from https://www.abc.net.au/news/2019-05-20/police-shooting-inq uest-hears-man-may-have-had-psychotic-episode/11131346.

References

337

Wells, W., & Schafer, J. J. (2006). Officer perceptions of police responses to persons with a mental illness. Policing: An International Journal of Police Strategies and Management, 29 (4), 578–601. Wesley Mission. (2007). Living with mental illness: Attitudes, experiences and challenges. Retrieved May 8, 2008, from http://www.wesleymission.org.au/ News/research/Mental_Health. Westmarland, L. (2005). Police ethics and integrity: Breaking the blue code of silence. Policing & Society: An International Journal of Research and Policy, 15 (2), 145–165. White Bird Clinic. (n.d.). CAHOOTS FAQ [Webpage]. Retrieved October 19, 2019, from https://whitebirdclinic.org/cahoots-faq/. Wild, K. (2018). Waiting for Elijah. Brunswick, Victoria: Scribe Publications. Wild, K., Miskelly, G., & Wakatama, G. (2018, March 5). ‘A potent, tragic, fatal mix’: More than half of people shot dead by NSP police have a mental illness. ABC News. Retrieved March 7, 2018, from http://www.abc.net.au/ news/2018-03-05/police-shootings-and-mental-health-a-potent-tragic-fatalmix/9493356. Wilding, D., Fray, P., Molitorisz, S., & McKewon, E. (2018). The impact of digital platforms on news and journalistic content. Sydney, NSW: Centre for Media Transition, University of Technology Sydney. Williams, H. E., Bowman, S. W., & Jung, J. T. (2019). The limitations of government databases for analyzing fatal officer-involved shootings in the United States. Criminal Justice Policy Review, 30 (2), 201–222. Williams, T., & Smith, M. (2018, June 28). $16 million vs. $4: In fatal police shootings, payouts vary widely. The New York Times. Retrieved July 23, 2019, from https://www.nytimes.com/2018/06/28/us/police-shootings-pay outs.html. Williams, T., Thomas, J., Jacoby, S., & Cave, D. (2016, April 1). Police body cameras: What do you see? The New York Times. Retrieved July 15, 2019, from https://www.nytimes.com/interactive/2016/04/01/us/police-bodycamvideo.html?_r=0. Wischmann, L. (1987). Dying on the front page: Kent state and the Pulitzer Prize. Journal of Mass Media Ethics, 2(2), 67–74. Wolfe, S. E., McLean, K., Rojek, J., Alpert, G. P., & Smith, M. R. (2019). Advancing a theory of police officer training motivation and receptivity. Justice Quarterly [Online First]. https://doi.org/10.1080/07418825.2019. 1703027.

338

References

Wood, J. D., & Watson, A. C. (2017). Improving police interventions in mental health-related encounters: Past, present and future. Policing and Society: An International Journal of Research and Policy, 27 (3), 289–299. Wood, J. D., Watson, A. C., & Fulambarker, A. J. (2017). The “gray zone” of police work during mental health encounters: Findings from an observational study in Chicago. Police Quarterly, 20 (1), 81–105. Wood, J. R. T. (1997). Final report of the Royal Commission into the New South Wales Police Service [Volume II: Reform]. Sydney, NSW: The Government of the State of New South Wales and the Royal Commission into the New South Wales Police Service. Worden, E. (1989). Situational and attitudinal explanations of police behavior: A theoretical reappraisal and empirical assessment. Law and Society Review, 23(4), 667–711. World Health Organisation. (2017). Depression and other common mental disorders: Global health estimates. Geneva: World Health Organisation. Licence: CC BY-NC-SA 3.0 IGO. Wylie, J. R., & Wilson, C. (1990). Deinstitutionalisation of the mentally disabled and its impact on police services. Payneham, SA: National Police Research Unit. Wynne, B. (1996). May the sheep safely graze? A reflexive view of the expertlay knowledge divide. In B. Lash, B. Szerzynski, & B. Wynne (Eds.), Risk, environment and modernity: Towards a new ecology (pp. 44–83). London: Sage. Yokum, D., Ravishankar, A., & Coppock, A. (2019). A randomized control trial evaluating the effects of police body-worn cameras. Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences of the United States of America, 116 (21), 10329–10332. Young, J. T. N., & Ready, J. T. (2018). A longitudinal analysis of the relationship between administrative policy, technological preferences, and body-worn camera activation among police officers. Policing: A Journal of Policy and Practice, 12(1), 27–42. YZ (a pseudonym) v The Age Company Limited . (2019). VCC 148. (Austl.). http://www.austlii.edu.au/cgi-bin/viewdoc/au/cases/vic/VCC/2019/148. html?context=1;query=defamation;mask_path=. Zalewski and Anor v. Turcarolo [1995] VicRp 76; [1995] 2 VR 562 (1994, July 1). (Austl.). http://www.austlii.edu.au/cgi-bin/viewdoc/au/cases/vic/VicRp/ 1995/76.html. Zelizer, B. (1992). Covering the body: The Kennedy assassination, the media, and the shaping of collective memory. Chicago: Chicago University Press.

References

339

Zelizer, B. (1993, September). Journalists as interpretive communities. Critical Studies in Mass Communication, 10 (3), 219–237. Zelizer, B. (2002). Photography, journalism and trauma. In B. Zelizer & S. Allan (Eds.), Journalism after september 11 (pp. 48–68). London and New York: Routledge. Zelizer, B. (2004). Taking journalism seriously: News and the academy. Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage. Zelizer, B. (2005). Journalism through the camera’s eye. In S. Allan (Ed.), Journalism: Critical issues (pp. 167–176). Berkshire: Open University Press. Zelizer, B. (2009). Journalists as interpretive communities, revisited. In S. Allan (Ed.), The Routledge companion to news and journalism (pp. 181–190). London and New York: Routledge. Zelizer, B. (2010). About to die: How news images move the public. New York: Oxford University Press. Zelizer, B. (2017). What journalism could be. Cambridge, UK: Polity Press. Zhou, N. (2018, February 19). Police say mentally ill man who died after being tasered was ‘aggressive’. The Guardian. Retrieved February 3, 2019, from https://www.theguardian.com/australia-news/2018/feb/19/ police-say-mentally-ill-man-who-died-after-being-tasered-was-aggressive.

Index

A

The Age 23, 247 Apology 241, 256 Attribution of responsibility 208, 211 The Australian 23 Australian Story 259

B

Body-worn cameras 44, 91, 101, 124, 277

C

Camera view bias 103, 109 Capel, Michael 66, 115 Carroll, Alan James 113 Cassidy, Tyler 64, 153, 173, 252, 256

Chasse, Jr. James 122 Citizen journalism 244, 277 Closed-circuit television (CCTV) footage 9, 97, 238, 277 Cochran, Sam 120, 122, 154 Comorbidity 42, 48, 65, 164 Conflict 156, 208, 259, 280 Construction of counter-frames 204, 217, 218 Constructive journalism 234 Copwatch movement 278 Coronial investigations adverse findings 98, 172 delays in completion 28, 174 joint inquests 44, 158 referral to Director of Public Prosecutions (DPP) 5, 174, 176, 237 The Counted (The Washington Post) 29

© The Editor(s) (if applicable) and The Author(s) 2021 K. Clifford, Policing, Mental Illness and Media, Palgrave Studies in Crime, Media and Culture, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-61490-4

341

342

Index

Crisis Assessment and Treatment Teams (CATTs) 89, 118 Crisis Assistance Helping Out On The Streets (CAHOOTS) 88 Crisis Intervention Teams (CITs) Chicago model 117, 123 Memphis model 114, 117–122, 130 Crowley, Jonathan 241 Curti, Roberto Laudisio 97, 100, 172, 238

NSW Police Force Mental Health Intervention Team (MHIT) 1, 65, 113, 121, 126, 253, 275 operational safety tactics (OST) 129 specialised mental health training 116, 120, 122, 126 Tasers 95, 97, 129 TEMPO model 127 Emotion 149, 151, 170, 177, 219, 248, 254, 256, 260, 262, 264 Episodic vs thematic frames 208, 217, 219

D

The Daily Telegraph 23 Damages 240, 247 Dart Center for Journalism and Trauma 217, 236, 247 Dashcam footage 124, 277 De-escalation and communication techniques as strategy for resolving mental health crises 13, 65, 67, 111, 117, 122, 126 Deinstitutionalisation 13, 44, 63, 87, 154 Diversion 56, 164

F

False equivalency 263 Fatal Force (The Guardian) 29 Four Corners 251, 253–256, 261, 262 Framing effects 162, 199, 219, 233, 236, 246, 262 Framing theory, practice and analysis 20, 22, 161, 165, 178, 199, 223, 245, 263, 282 Freedom of Information 64, 96, 100, 107, 108 G

E

Education and training as a panacea to police use of force 122, 128 coronial recommendations 8, 112 encouraging confrontational approaches 13, 123 financial and resourcing constraints 130

Galeano, Antonio 92, 252 H

Hallinan, Jim 258, 260 Hamie, Ali 113, 152 Herald Sun 256 Hodge, Stephen 116, 238 Holcombe, Elijah 116, 159, 174, 238, 241, 252, 257

Index

Human rights 45, 49, 66, 93, 172, 173

I

Illawarra Mercury 23, 198, 200, 203, 205, 207, 211, 213, 216–220, 243 Immersive journalism 201 Information sharing 50, 51 Interagency collaboration between police and health 49, 51, 55, 69 memoranda of understanding (MOUs) 49, 52, 55 with communities 50, 123

343

Kokaua, Jack 98

L

The Law Report (ABC Radio National) 158 Legal proceedings 100, 107, 108, 172, 174, 239–244, 247 Legislation Coroners Act 237 LeGrier, Quintonio 124, 242 Levi, Roni 3, 21, 92, 112, 152, 155, 164, 165, 169, 178, 192, 197, 210, 215, 252 Lived experience 18, 21, 58, 178, 256, 261, 275, 276

J

Journalism ethics and social responsibility 203, 232–234, 243, 244 ideal of objectivity 248, 249, 254 impacts of reporting on traumatic events 246, 247 press freedom 243, 244 public interest 203, 233, 238, 242, 282 relationship to technology and social media 201, 232, 250, 263, 278 Journalists as interpretive communities 160, 176

K

Klein, Paul 20, 21, 165, 170, 191, 204, 234, 240, 242, 255, 259, 275, 283

M

McDonald, Laquan 124, 125 Media monitoring projects 60, 222 Mediated visibility of policing 15, 17, 238, 273, 278 Media Watch 205 Mental Health Act police powers under 6, 50, 253, 255 Mental health crisis interventions (police-involved) as media templates 164, 165 bystander video 2, 16, 155, 238 costs of 14, 100 differences in news coverage 4, 9 frequent presenters 48, 68 involving weapons 11, 48, 65, 167, 194, 200, 214, 240, 260 lethal outcomes 10, 238 prevalence 8

344

Index

Mental health literacy 47, 58, 114, 122, 282 Mental health plan 68 Mental health-related language 26, 60, 61, 281 Mental health system government investment 46, 70 pressures on and structural shortcomings 3, 10, 45, 254 Mental illness access to services 46, 48 among prison populations 56 association with violence 48, 56, 59, 63, 162, 222 burden of disease 46, 47 cost of 42, 47 criminalisation of 56, 63, 211 media portrayals 59, 222 pathways to 10 prevalence rates 46, 56 Militarisation of policing 168 Mindframe media 61, 222 Models of mental health response 117 24-hour mental health crisis teams 88, 89 co-responder models 52, 69 street triage 118, 119 Mokmool, Danukul 1, 194, 277

N

National Deaths in Custody Program (NDICP) 28, 67 National Disability Insurance Scheme (NDIS) 45 National Survey of Mental Health and Wellbeing of Adults 46, 47 News media

as a mouthpiece for victims of police violence 172, 250, 261, 284 binary constructions 192, 262, 282 selective nature of news reporting 249 New South Wales (NSW) shooting deaths in police custody or operations 3, 8, 10, 20, 128 New South Wales (NSW) Police Force frequency of contacts with mentally ill individuals 43 State Protection Support Unit (SPSU) 95, 194 Tactical Operations Unit (TOU) 95 Taser rollout 92, 94–96, 100 transport policy 54, 131 News values 161, 177 The New York Times 110, 279

P

Pepper spray (capsicum) 2, 98, 210, 241 Perceptions of police among mentally ill people 154, 155, 179 Perceptions of police among mentally people 170 Police as mental health advocates 68 attitudes towards mental illness 58, 59, 127, 275 culture 62, 150, 166, 167, 179, 276 disclosure and transparency 102, 106, 108, 173, 178, 274, 275

Index

duty of care 239, 241, 242 frontline responders to mental health crises 10, 13, 42, 113, 115 image work 15, 105, 259, 278 leadership 122, 150 officer stress and trauma 177, 255, 256, 258, 259 policies and protocols 95, 97, 149, 178, 195, 259 protectors of society 10, 156, 272 public expectations of 177 tactical options 64, 111, 125, 148 ‘trigger happy’ cops 166, 179, 209 Police discretion 58, 105, 149 Police integrity investigations 172 Police-investigating-police 171, 173 Police legitimacy 9, 14, 274 Police-media relations 25, 103, 166, 177, 179, 215, 250, 272, 278 Police radio operators (emergency dispatch) 51, 113, 121, 127, 153, 195 Police weaponisation 94 Primary definers 166, 208, 223, 250, 261 Privacy concerns 50, 103, 106 Problem-definition event-driven 208 individualising and systemic claims 208, 212, 256 institutional vs lay discourse 163, 164, 171, 250 news media as agenda-setters 160 Procedural justice 15 Psychosis (and its effects) 16, 65, 97, 108, 115, 196, 212, 214, 219, 236, 241, 259 Public trust 124, 151, 274

345

Q

Queensland Police Service (QPS) 44, 51, 92

R

Responsibility and accountability 121, 203, 220 Reuters 99 Rialto experiment 104 Richards, Miguel 107 Risk communication 157, 260 Risk perceptions 57, 60, 62, 63, 157, 167, 214 Robinson, Joseph Dewayne 120 Role play exercises 117, 121, 127, 275 Royal Commission into Victoria’s Mental Health System 43, 52 Rural and regional Australia 25, 43, 54, 131

S

Salter, Adam 172, 174, 238, 241 Schizophrenia 56, 63, 67, 115, 120, 123 Search for justice 172, 173, 274 Self-harm 120, 172, 195 Shock Tactics 99 Shoebridge, David 8, 30, 88, 100, 130 Smartphone apps 109 Social media circulation of bystander videos 278 Solutions disarming police 88

346

Index

evaluation and return on investment 101, 102, 104, 114, 116, 118, 126, 130 improved police training 112 less-lethal alternatives 90, 92, 100, 104, 126, 153, 154, 210 Sousveillance 277 Stereotypes 16, 59, 62, 162, 179, 213, 222 Stigma. 58, 71, 281. See also mental illness Substance use (drugs or alcohol) and mental illness 11, 48 association with violence and criminal behaviour 57, 193 police use and testing 6, 165 Suicide by cop 196 Suppression orders 238 The Sydney Morning Herald 23, 196, 198, 210, 243, 244

Threat from a bladed weapon 167, 168 Topic, Courtney 16, 67, 117, 128, 137, 165, 223, 238 Transporting persons with mental illness 52, 53, 119 Trauma bearing witness 30, 31, 204, 231, 248, 255, 278, 283 personal narratives 219, 220, 250, 257, 261 research challenges 30 ‘second wounds’ of media exposure 107, 236, 237, 242, 246, 282 Trauma-informed journalism 202, 223 Turcarolo, Pino 240

U

T

Taser cam footage 96, 97, 238, 277 TASER International 93, 101 Tasers 91, 165 alleged misuse 92, 93, 96, 97 ambiguous characterisation 93 mission creep 94, 96 NSW Ombudsman review 94–96, 129 related deaths 92, 93, 97, 99 use on vulnerable individuals 12, 92, 93, 96 Technological change 17, 281 Technological solutionism 72, 89, 110, 131, 150 Thomas, Danny Ray 155

United Kingdom fatal mental health crisis interventions 172 professional public relations 15 proportion of time spent on mental health-related contacts 42 United States Chicago Police Department 100, 123, 125 death of Eric Garner 29, 104, 151 Department of Justice investigation 123–125 fatal mental health crisis interventions 12 Michael Brown shooting 104, 109, 151 New York Police Department 107

Index

rollout of body-worn cameras (BWCs) 102, 104 use of force data 29, 99 Use of force charges brought against police 98, 175, 240 competing claims about 22, 148, 157, 163, 176, 216, 273 data collection and limitations 27, 101, 279 definitions of reasonableness 157, 177, 221, 239 predictive determinants 148, 150, 151, 176 ‘shoot to kill’ 167, 170, 209, 252 User-generated content 234, 279

347

Virtual reality 125, 127, 201 Visual images as documentary evidence 5, 108, 197, 235, 237 eyewitness authority 199, 235 framing of 17, 206, 207, 245, 248 manipulation 106, 108, 199 newsworthiness 5, 9, 198, 206, 245, 273 of death 16, 198, 201, 204–206, 248 Vulnerability 152, 154, 167, 220, 246, 257, 272

W V

WIN Television 24, 198, 235

Victoria Police 64, 152, 153 frequency of contacts with mentally ill individuals 43, 55 lessons from Project Beacon 152

YouTube 109, 279

Y