John Stubbs’ best asset as a cop was his gift of the gab. Most times he found he could talk rather than force offenders to see the error of their ways.
Which is why when he left policing in 1993 (to give his second marriage a fighting chance) he moved into real estate and property development, where the art of persuasion is the deal-clincher.
When he returned from Queensland he decided to catch up with many of his police colleagues, most long retired. What he found was some were living in quiet desperation, nursing mental wounds that time alone couldn’t heal.
There were those damaged from trauma, others who lost their identities and some who simultaneously lost their friendship and social circles.
“Some feel they are living on a desert island in total isolation,” he says.
And so Stubbs started to reach out, at first informally and finally as a volunteer peer support officer for Police Veterans Victoria.
“I started out doing this accidentally and it has sort of become a hobby. I get quite a bit out of it,” he says. “The more you search the more you find.”
The plight of police veterans is only now being recognised and no one knows the size of the problem.
When a police career ends the member usually has a function where a boss reads the service record, a Police Association representative presents a plaque and a colleague tells a few embarrassing stories before everyone jumps into the booze. And that is that, whether you have served a few months or 40 years. You are on your own.
As a police officer the badge gives you the authority to tell people what to do. You lift your hand while standing on the road and people stop. You carry a gun and a badge and most look to you to lead in a crisis.
Many police leave the job to enter other professions or enjoy retirement. A generous superannuation scheme means most are left financially comfortable.
There is a group of ex-homicide detectives who meet occasionally for lunch. One renovates homes, another drives sports cars while another spends half the year in the south of France. Of their predecessors one travels almost full-time in a luxury van, another spends more time on the golf course than Tiger Woods while the third played Santa at a shopping centre. Yet another has supercharged the grey nomad concept, circumnavigating the world twice with his wife on their motorbike.
Then there are the tragedies. The taskforce chief who shot and killed his neighbour before turning the gun on himself. The popular investigator who started the day tending his garden and ended it dead in the garage.
The squad boss who loved a drink and a laugh who saw retirement as a slow death until he quickened the process at his own hand. The police hero who most thought was over the worst until he killed himself and the ex-senior policeman who, facing a terminal illness, simply blew himself up.
Years ago I wandered through a new Melbourne five-star hotel. It was near midnight when I spotted a retired senior policeman running the security team. I asked him what on earth he was doing. He responded: “I was falling asleep at home watching the midday movie. I need something to do.”
He died of a massive heart attack a few months later. In his pocket was the police badge he was supposed to return on retirement, which he had declared missing just weeks before he left. To him it was his identity.
There is the former Special Operations Group policeman who thought he had left the life-and-death nature of his job. Then 17 years later he came upon a scene that woke his demons.
I have seen larger-than-life police who after retirement seem physically and mentally diminished. It is as if their professional armour – the detective’s dark suit or the blue uniform – has been ripped away, leaving them hopelessly exposed.
For years David McGowan worked at the sharp end, particularly during a stint in the armed robbery squad when stick-up teams hit banks and armoured vans with military precision. When he left policing in 2000 (ironically to work in banking and finance) he felt a sense of loss that took months to overcome.
Recently appointed the Executive Officer of Police Veterans Victoria, he says no one knows how many retired police are out there. They have 3500 on their list but there may be as many as 20,000 living anonymously. Most are likely to have successfully progressed to another stage of their lives but there are some, he says, who desperately need help.
So far Police Veterans have enlisted 62 volunteer peer group support officers with another 20 undergoing training. Those who need help may be referred by friends, serving police and mental health experts. They are assessed and assigned a support officer “buddy”.
McGowan says they have found retired police living on the streets and in cars and some who “don’t know where to go and are completely lost … There are those who feel completely irrelevant.”
Some feel angry, believing they have been abandoned by the job that dominated their lives for years. Police have an expression for the condition: “There is nothing more ex than an ex.”
An example is Cliff Lockwood, the policeman whose life spiralled out of control after he was charged with murder.
In 1989 Lockwood fired seven shots at Gary Abdallah in a Carlton flat. Abdallah was part of a gang linked to the murders of police officers Stephen Tynan and Damian Eyre in Walsh Street in October 1988.
Lockwood was acquitted after a jury accepted Abdallah threatened him with an imitation firearm. He quit policing, went to the Northern Territory and eventually was jailed on drug charges. He returned to country Victoria, where he struggles with anxiety and depression. Stubbs, his ex-sergeant, wrote to Lockwood in prison. “Ex-members who end up in prison are usually dumped by former friends,” he says.
“Cliff was a great crook-catcher who was so committed to the job he would sleep in the office between shifts.”
Stubbs found out where Lockwood lived, drove to the country town and wouldn’t leave until his ex-colleague agreed to see him. Stubbs organised professional assistance and a maintenance day where former police helped repair his home. It was more than a working bee; it showed Lockwood he wasn’t forgotten.
McGowan says Police Veterans is an organisation designed to help ex-members whether they served for decades or days. He says they are discovering many that need help were not in the police force for a lengthy career. “It is troubling to find people who were not long in are suffering now.”
There can be no greater example than Kenneth McNeil, who graduated dux of his recruit class on January 28, 1974, seemingly destined for a long and satisfying career. The commandant wrote he was a “quiet but extremely competent member”.
Other assessments included “will prove an asset to the service and could go far … should develop into a highly efficient member … should show out in the future”.
Less than four months later his career was finished after he received severe injuries on duty that left him disabled for life.
Directing traffic on a rainy day in the city his cape caught a tram, smashing his skull and resulting in a permanent brain injury.
In February 2002, police conducting a welfare check found McNeil’s body in the family’s Malvern home. He was 47.
There were 18 mourners at the funeral – friends of the celebrant and two serving police.
This is not just a case of trying to help struggling police veterans, it is also about helping former police keep in touch with their friends and their past, in the way the RSL remains a central hub for ex-military members.
Police Veterans was contacted by someone visiting an elderly relative at a nursing home who had noticed a man in his 80s who had outlived his family and was existing in near-isolation.
Police Veterans is working with Victoria University to research the impact on partners of ex-police. One wife says she steels herself every time she returns home, expecting to find her husband has taken his own life.
Others report that partners who during their working lives were caring, responsible spouses have become anxious, depressed, controlling and, in some cases, violent. McGowan says police veterans deserve the same government support offered to retired military. “We went to our own sort of war every day.”
If you or anyone you know needs support you can call Lifeline on 13 11 14 or Beyond Blue on 1300 224 636.
Originally published on: https://www.theage.com.au/national/victoria/john-stubbs-gift-and-how-it-eases-the-burdens-of-tired-old-cops-20210429-p57nd0.html
Dave, John and the rest of the team at PVV,
a great article that really describes how great life can be for some members after leaving the job and how bad it can be for others. Keep up the good work!
Please pass on my great admiration and respect for the work of John Stubbs, who I remember as an outstanding operational member and colleague.
Fond memories Wayne. Hope you are well.
Giddaye Dave & Stubby’es along with Biggeth
I am on board with this train – well down Gents
Fond memories Rod.
Keep up the good work.????
Behind you 100%. Great work Dave and good on you Stubbsy. Happy to assist in any capacity. Ashy
Happy days Ken. I was REALLY pleased I met you. LOL
Heart warming to see ex members who are suffering alone are being discovered and helped…..well done all……..I have been out 21yrs and still miss the camaraderie I experienced in the job for 23yrs but am one of the lucky ones, having a very understanding wife and ex job friends.
I had no idea of the work John Stubbs was doing post retirement and continues to do. Reading this article and about my ex work mate at Flemington (Cliff Lockwood) and his struggle had me in tears. The working bee and assistance John and team was amazing. People like Stubbsy are a dying breed and should be honoured for what they do. Mental health is a major issue in our society and certainly within our current and ex serving comrades. Keep up the great work champ and thank you from us all ??
There’s nothing more humbling than receiving the recognition of your colleagues. I remember you well Andrew Hood. It was a pleasure working with you and I’m so pleased we have connected again.
I feel I must compliment all the above persons on the stories and the comments.. I did 33 years starting at the City Watch House with some good mates and went to Fingerprints then ARS and to Toorak (now demolished) then to Heyfield where I learnt a lot as a city copper going to the Country, then East Preston one man station (known as Little Chicago), I eventually worked for City Coroner Harry Pascoe and viewed 1800 bodies per year on average. I learnt a lot about death/suicides which I believe stood me in good stead. I became a Prosecutor for many years and loved it. I also became a City Councillor and Mayor for 3 times over 20 years. I believe these extra interest’s enabled me to switch off from the Job, even though I enjoyed almost every part of it. As a Past President of the Vic Police Association I met with many persons who were not coping with the Job and we did every thing to try and help. What I have heard and seen since has been incredible and by best wishes and thoughts go towards these Members and former Members. I joined in 1951 when there was only 3500 members and I have been retired since 1984
You have a wealth of experience Bill and it’s great to have your support. There are many out there who get encouragement from simply acknowledging them.
Being happily retired for fifteen years I had no idea of the work being done for veterans in their time of need. Big shout out to Jan Prest who let me know. Fantastic work by Stubbsy seeking out Cliffy Lockwood, and I hope he’s travelling the better for it. To Dave McGowan and all the great people in your organisation a big cheers from Flo. Ret.DSS 16373. Remember that number and you’ll go a long way. Not really!!?
cheers Flo, good to see you join up – still a long way to go in terms of awareness of our organisation but we’re on the way
Well done John Stubbs for your very thoughtful support shown to Cliff Lockwood and other retired policemen. I sincerely hope Cliff Lockwood finds peace.
I feel very strongly that such support is crucial for retired policemen, as it is for families who lost their loved ones in traumatic circumstances.
I can only imagine the pain and suffering the retired policemen are left with.
I know that parents, from all walks of life, who lost children suffer the most unimaginable pain. Sadly, some also lose their will to go on living themselves.
I know that the children who lost a parent, suffer their own trauma and grow up forever wanting and needing that parent.
I personally know that siblings suffer the heartache of losing a loved one in traumatic circumstances, and suffer again when other family members suffer depression or decide life is no longer worth fighting for.
Sadly, life-long trauma for retired policemen, and for the families of all walks of life, who lost a loved one.