Police retiree returns to street

After 20 ½ years on the Fort Wayne, Ind., police force, including nearly a decade as a captain, Bill Nelson's retirement plan in 1996 was to teach a course or two in criminal justice, perhaps at a local community college.

And when he moved to Edmonds with his wife, Molly, that same year to be closer to family, he considered that option.

But it didn't take long for Nelson to realize he didn't want to use his master's degree in public affairs to give lectures or grade papers. Instead, he felt drawn to doing what he thought he'd never do again: policing.

Nelson wanted to hit the road again as a beat officer, interacting with the community and catching the bad guys, after spending almost all of his last 10 years in Fort Wayne as a training captain.

So he took just such a job with the Edmonds Police Department.

"When it actually became crunchtime," Nelson said, he realized something: "I don't build houses. I don't fix cars. I'm a police officer."

Though it's not uncommon for officers to move from an agency in one state to another, Nelson, 52, is unusual in that he moved from a command position back into a patrol car.

Nelson's move also stands out at a time when police agencies are having trouble recruiting and keeping officers.

He said he is part of a dwindling population of officers who do what they do for the love of policing.

Rich Niebusch, a spokesman for the Snohomish County Sheriff's Office, said some recruits find out police work isn't as glamorous as they thought it would be.

Just recently, he said, he was working with a young recruit in Edmonds who decided 10 weeks into his job that he didn't want to be a police officer.

Nelson's transition back to beat work was like getting back on a bicycle, he said. But some wondered, with his command experience and at his age, whether he would stick with it.

He was 43 when he retired from Fort Wayne, pretty old by police standards for a return to beat work. He said he had to convince others he could still handle dangerous situations and that he wouldn't try to ascend back into a command position.

Nelson recalled his interview with then-Edmonds Police Chief Tom Miller. Nelson said Miller wondered whether he would use his experience in Edmonds to later leave for a higher position with another agency in the state.

"If I tell you I'm not going to leave, I won't be leaving," he promised the chief.

That was nearly 10 years ago.

Which way did he go?

Thursday was a typical day for Nelson behind the wheel of his patrol car.

But as he followed close behind a slow-moving SUV, he was getting frustrated. Nelson was headed to a 7-Eleven store where a man had reportedly walked out without paying for merchandise.

Because it was shoplifting, probably just a misdemeanor in this case, Nelson could not use his lights or siren to get around the SUV, which he estimated was going about 3 mph under the speed limit.

Once at the store, Nelson quickly began a search. With information that the man had headed up Highway 99 on foot, Nelson checked an area behind a warehouse where he knew homeless people frequently hang out.

Then it was off to check nearby motel parking lots, some residential streets and a wooded area. The chances of finding this suspect? Nelson figured about 50 percent.

It's exciting trying to find the bad guy, Nelson said.

Though the search was unsuccessful this time, Nelson fondly recalled better outcomes, such as one time in Edmonds when he responded to a purse-snatching call.

A woman's purse had been stolen, somebody reported, and when Nelson and other officers got to the scene, a dispatcher received another call that a boy carrying a purse had run into a nearby house. At the house, a witness said the suspect had just fled out a window.

One officer caught up with the kid, and Nelson found the purse, with $800 in it, inside the house.

If not for the person who called 911, the purse's owner might never have gotten back her money, Nelson said. Seeing that kind of citizen support is one thing that energizes him.

"Policing is really a community effort," he said.

Nelson has an upbeat attitude and philosophy. As he wrote a $20 ticket for a parked car with expired license tabs, he said it all comes down to the quality of life.

Nelson explained that he wasn't writing the ticket because he could or because he wanted to punish someone. Rather, he said, it was the first step toward removing what might have been an abandoned vehicle. People living in the neighborhood don't want a run-down vehicle sitting around, he said, and it's his responsibility to do something.

He would come back and check on the car in several days, he said, and if the ticket were still there, he'd be one step closer to getting the car towed away.

A change of pace

After Fort Wayne, Nelson likes the quieter atmosphere of Edmonds.

In Fort Wayne, a city of about 220,000 people, a police force of 420 deals with all the complexities of a large, blue-collar population center. In Edmonds, a department of 53 officers covers a community of about 40,000 residents.

Fort Wayne has about 25 homicides a year; Edmonds has maybe one.

Veteran officers in Fort Wayne remember Nelson as a great cop with a positive outlook, said Michael Joyner, a spokesman for the department.

Joyner said he was just a kid when he met Nelson, at that time a Fort Wayne motorcycle traffic officer who would stop to chat with Joyner and his friends.

In 1994, Joyner signed up for the Fort Wayne Police Training Center. By then, Nelson was the captain there.

"He was very demanding in the academy," Joyner said. "This was the real world, and he expected nothing but the best from us. ... I'm a better officer because of Bill Nelson."

In Edmonds, Nelson also assists with field training for the department's newest members.

"If I can be a motivator for a young person ... it's a good procession," Nelson said.

That's the officer Joyner remembers.

"It's our loss and your gain," said Joyner. "He's a phenomenal individual."

Dark side of the job

There are time Nelson doesn't enjoy being an officer — the calls that leave "scar tissue," he said.

It's responding to a murder scene or a terrible car accident, seeing things no person should have to see, he said.

One case Nelson remembers in Fort Wayne is a case he avoids even talking about. He said it's enough just to say that the prosecutor sought the death penalty.

"We get to see the best in society, but we see the worst, too," he said.

Being there to deal with the unspeakable is part of serving the public, Nelson said.

On Thursday afternoon, the skies were drizzly, and the police radio was mostly silent. Nelson drove the streets, waved to pedestrians and smiled at other drivers.

Another benefit of police work in Edmonds is the pace, he said.

Not having to go from one call to another during his shift gives him the chance to help the public in other ways. In Edmonds, officers help people get into their cars if they're locked out. They can push disabled vehicles away from traffic.

And Nelson likes the Edmonds community.

He drove past a spot on 226th Street Southwest near Highway 104 where a white cross and flowers stood by the roadside. Messages had been printed on the cross. The flowers were fresh.

At that spot a boy's car had hit a tree, killing him, and the community had set up the impromptu memorial.

"I never saw that kind of kindness in Indiana," he said. "That's humanity, there. I'm touched by that."

Brian Alexander: 425-745-7845 or balexander@seattletimes.com