Blue Canary: For Cops By a Cop

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BCS7E10 A view from the other side.

This season on Blue Canary, we’ve spent a lot of time talking about police reform.

And I’ve been asking every guest essentially the same question:

If you could wave a magic wand—if you could be king for a day—and make one meaningful change to policing in America, what would it be?

I’ve heard some great answers.

But most of those answers have come from people who have worn a badge, worked inside the criminal justice system, or spent their careers working alongside law enforcement.

For this episode, I wanted a different perspective.

I wanted to hear from somebody who has seen the system from the other side.

And that brings me to Rico Lopez.

Some of you may already know Rico as a fellow DJ over on The Thin Line Rock Station. Along with his wife and co-host Briana, he hosts Rico’s Rock Headlock every Tuesday and Thursday morning.

But there's a lot more to Rico's story than rock and roll.

Rico is an ex-con.

He spent fourteen years in prison.

He got out, turned his life around, became a truck driver, built a new life—and then something happened that connected him to law enforcement in a way he never expected.

His cousin, Deputy William H. “Bill” Butler Jr., was killed in the line of duty.

Rico decided he couldn't stay silent.

He started the 8158 Podcast, where he talks with first responders and their families and gives them a place to tell their stories—the good, the bad, the sacrifice, the trauma, and the resilience.

And he didn't stop there.

Rico helped create the William H. “Bill” Butler Jr. Foundation, a nonprofit dedicated to honoring fallen first responders, helping surviving families, providing scholarships, supporting grief and wellness programs, and making sure the families left behind know they haven't been forgotten.

And that's why I wanted Rico on Blue Canary.

Because police reform shouldn't just be cops talking to cops about cops.

If we're serious about making policing better, then we need to listen to people who have experienced the criminal justice system from every direction.

Rico has been incarcerated by that system.

Today, he's one of the people working to support the men and women who serve within it—and the families who sometimes pay the highest price for that service.

That's a perspective I think is worth hearing.

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When we talk about police reform, most people immediately think about body cameras, use-of-force policies, civilian review boards, or new laws. Those are important conversations. But today I want to start somewhere different.

I want to start with what I believe is one of the biggest problems facing modern policing.

We've become exceptionally good at responding to crime.

We've become much less capable of preventing it.

Think about that for just a second. When someone calls 911 because their house has been burglarized, what has already happened?

They've already become a victim.

If someone is robbed in a parking lot...

If someone is assaulted walking home...

If a business owner arrives in the morning to find the front door smashed in...

By the time the police get there, the crime has already occurred.

Now don't misunderstand me. Responding professionally and investigating thoroughly is incredibly important. Today's police departments have tools that officers from thirty years ago could only dream about.

We have Flock camera systems that can track suspect vehicles across an entire region. We have drones that can search large areas in minutes instead of hours. We have incredible forensic technology. We have Cell phone analysis. DNA evidence. Digital evidence. And, security cameras everywhere.

Experienced detectives who know exactly how to put all those pieces together.

Those technologies have made us dramatically better at solving crimes. And that's something worth celebrating. But solving yesterday's crime doesn't protect today's victim.

If my family has already been robbed, catching the suspect next week is certainly better than never catching them at all. Justice matters. Accountability matters. But if we're honest with ourselves, the thing that family really wanted wasn't a better detective investigation. They wanted to never be robbed in the first place.

That's the difference between reactive policing and proactive policing.

Reactive policing waits for the phone to ring.

It waits for the alarm. It waits for the crash. It waits for the shooting. It waits until someone needs help. Then we respond.

That's what we do today, and because of the professionalism of officers across this country, we often do it very well.

But proactive policing asks a completely different question.

How do we stop that phone call from ever happening? How do we identify crime before it occurs? How do we recognize patterns? How do we intervene early enough that someone never becomes a victim?

That's a completely different mindset. And I would argue it's the mindset policing was always meant to have.

The safest neighborhood isn't the one where detectives solve every homicide. The safest neighborhood is the one where there aren't any homicides to investigate. The best burglary investigation is the burglary that never happens. The best robbery report is the one that never has to be written.

Every officer listening to this knows exactly what I'm talking about.

Some of the best police work you'll ever do never results in an arrest.

It's checking on a suspicious car before it becomes a burglary. It's stopping a stolen vehicle before it reaches another neighborhood. It's talking to teenagers who are headed down the wrong path before they commit their first felony. It's walking through a business district and simply being visible enough that someone decides tonight isn't the night to break into that store.

Sometimes the greatest success in policing is invisible.

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This week I talk to Patrick Kreuzer.

Patrick is a disabled United States Marine Corps veteran and retired police officer with more than 20 years of combined service to his country and community. Originally born in Germany and naturalized as an American citizen at a young age, Patrick felt a strong calling to give back through a life of public service. His military and law enforcement careers reflect his unwavering dedication to protecting and supporting others, demonstrating a steadfast commitment to duty, integrity, and community well-being. 

https://www.afterwatchfoundation.com/

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About twenty years ago I was sitting in an administrative meeting at my police department. The chief had made a promise to the city council that we were going to increase our in-service training. It sounded great. Everybody around the table agreed that more training was important.

Then reality hit.

We didn't have enough officers to cover the street if people went to training. We couldn't pull officers off shift because there was nobody to replace them. On top of that, the city wasn't giving us any additional money, so whatever we came up with had to be done in-house and basically for free.

The room got quiet while everyone tried to solve the impossible problem.

Finally, one administrator spoke up and said, "Why don't we make a bunch of PowerPoint presentations about department policies? The sergeants can read them during roll call. We'll count each one as thirty minutes of in-service training, and at the end of the year we'll be able to tell the city council we met our goal."

I remember sitting there thinking, Yeah...but nobody is actually going to learn anything

And I wasn’t the only one. I could see it on everyone’s faces.

Before I could say anything, someone else answered the thought that was on everyone’s mind.

"Who cares? We just have to make the city happy."

That sentence has stuck with me ever since.

Not because it was malicious. It wasn't. It was the product of a system that cared more about checking a box than building better police officers.

And unfortunately, that's how a lot of in-service training in American law enforcement still works today. It’s not about protecting the officers. It’s not about protecting the community. It’s about protecting the government. Because all they have to do is say they tried, but they don’t have to try hard. And the reality is they don’t try at all.

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When I first joined The Thin Line Rock Station, I did what I think every new DJ should do—I listened. I wanted to hear what everyone else was bringing to the station, what made this place special, and why people kept coming back.

One of the first voices that really caught my attention belonged to Erin Nugent. Every Tuesday and Thursday from 2 to 4, she hosted a show called Holding Space. And every time she'd open with, "I'm holding space for your darkness." Man...that stopped me in my tracks.

Think about that phrase for a second. Not running from the darkness. Not pretending it isn't there. Not telling you to just suck it up. Holding space for it. Acknowledging it. Sitting with it. That's a pretty powerful message, especially for the people who make up so much of our audience.

The more I listened, the more I realized this wasn't just great radio. Erin was talking about first responder wellness in a way that was honest, compassionate, and backed by experience. She isn't speaking from a textbook—she lived it.

Erin spent nine years as an Australian police officer and detective. Today she's a first responder wellness coach, a speaker, and the host of the I Will Hold Space For Your Darkness podcast, as well as Holding Space with Erin Jane on The Thin Line Rock Station. She's also the wife of an active-duty firefighter and formerly served as a crisis counselor for a suicide prevention organization.

And I'll admit it...the Australian accent certainly didn't hurt either.

I asked her the same question I have been asking all my quests this season. What should we be doing to reform policing. Her answers were wonderful because the showed that different perspective that I am always wanting to hear.

https://www.erinjanecoaching.com/

https://www.facebook.com/erinjanecoaching

https://www.instagram.com/erinjanecoaching

https://www.youtube.com/@ErinJane-FR-DarknessPodcast

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When we talk about police reform, we usually talk about body cameras, policies, accountability, or use of force. Those are important discussions, but I think we're missing something much more fundamental.

What if one of the biggest police reform issues isn't what officers do?

What if it's whether they're physically capable of doing the job in the first place?

Let's be honest about what police work actually is.

A police officer may spend most of his shift writing reports, answering calls, directing traffic, or talking to people. But that's not what defines the profession.

The profession is defined by what happens on the worst day.

It's defined by the foot pursuit.

It's defined by the fight.

It's defined by dragging someone out of a wrecked car.

It's defined by wrestling with a violent suspect who has no intention of going peacefully.

It's defined by sprinting across a parking lot, climbing a fence, jumping a ditch, and then making good decisions while your heart rate is 180 beats per minute.

And while you're doing all that, you're carrying somewhere around forty pounds of equipment.

Body armor.

Firearm.

Extra magazines.

Radio.

Handcuffs.

Taser.

Medical gear.

Flashlight.

Everything that comes on a modern duty belt.

Think about that for a second.

We ask officers to perform athletic feats while carrying the equivalent of a loaded backpack.

In almost any other profession we would recognize that reality immediately.

If I described someone whose job required running, fighting, climbing, carrying weight, making split-second decisions under stress, and performing in front of the public, most people would assume I was talking about a professional athlete.

But for some reason we don't treat police officers like professional athletes.

We expect athletic performance without athletic preparation.

And that wasn't always the case.

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It was poker night. Once a month the shift would get together and play poker. It rotated from house to house and this time it was my turn. My living room was crowded with about a dozen people. Eight of us were playing at the table and I was tucked back in against the wall. We were all drinking and having fun.

Cory stops bye. He liked to be the life of the party so when he came in it was high fives and greetings all around. Now Cory was a young officer, only been on the department for a little over a year or so, but I had known him for a couple of years already while he went to college and the IU police program. Back in those days he was cocky and that night was no different.

He started making fun of us being drunk, which was true and he said he could grab all the money from the table and take off and we wouldn’t be able to stop him. I called him out right there. I said “If you think you can grab that money and get out the front door before I stop you then go for it, and if you do, it’s all yours.”

Cory just laughed, knowing he was faster than me and I had a whole table between us. All he had to do was grab the money and get out the front door. I could see him measuring it up in his head.

But I had one little piece of information that Cory didn’t. I always…and I mean Always kept my front door locked.

Cory went for it. He grabbed a handful of cash and raced to the front, sure that he was going to make it.

I bounced him off a couple of walls.

[Insert Intro]

I went ahead and told that story because it is Cory’s favorite and he tells it all the time. A seasoned veteran with inside information and a cocky young cop who went on to be an FBI agent.

Cory Grass Graduated from IU in 1996 and worked for the Bloomington Police Department from 1996 – 2002. He then spent he next 20 years with the FBI. First in Miami with the Violent Crimes team and then in Terre Haute Indiana at the federal prison with counter terrorism, finishing up at the Bloomington Indiana office working on counterintelligence and source recruitment.

When I decided to focus on reform I knew I had to have Cory on the show. He is opinionated, outspoken, and really smart.

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I attended the police academy at Indiana University.

At the time, it was one of the only academies outside the Indiana Law Enforcement Academy in Plainfield that the state officially recognized as a full police certification academy.

The program itself was unique. While a full-time student with Indiana University you had to apply for the IU police department. The application process was very similar to getting hired by a police department. If accepted they put you through the complete Indiana Law Enforcement Academy over the summer while you were at IU.

But what really made the academy different was the way we were trained.

Most police academies in America were — and still are — based on a military basic training model. Drill instructors screaming at recruits, constant stress, punishment, collective discipline…You know, a lot of bullshit.

That wasn’t us.

We lived in our own apartments. We showed up for PT at six in the morning, then class at eight. We trained hard, studied hard, and we were treated like adults preparing for a profession instead of recruits surviving boot camp.

And a lot of cops around the state used to joke about it. They called it the ‘Country Club Academy.’

The implication was always the same — that somehow we had it easier.

But over the years, I watched the people who came out of that academy go on to become outstanding police officers, investigators, supervisors, and leaders at all levels of policing from local police chiefs, to sheriffs, to federal officers.

And I started realizing something:

maybe treating recruits like professionals actually produced better professionals.

Maybe teaching officers how to think was more valuable than teaching them how to endure screaming.

Maybe our so-called Country Club was working a whole lot better than the boys club.

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When I decided to talk about police reform I immediately thought of Brad Seifers. I had the pleasure of working extensively with Brad over the years and new that if anyone had solid thoughts on police reform it would be Brad.

Brad recently retired from law enforcement after a 32-year career. He started at the Indiana University Police academy in 1994, then spent over 22 years in municipal policing. He served in every roll from patrol officer to lieutenant of patrol and detectives. He then made the transition back to higher education policing by rejoining the IUPD as a lieutenant. Brad eventually moved up in the ranks to become the deputy superintendent of IUPD which is the position he retired from in January of 2026. Brad slso spent 29 years serving the US Army, retiring with the rank of Command Sergeant Major. That career was predominately in military police.  He also holds a BA in Criminal Justice and a Master of Science in Performance Improvement.

Brad was gracious enough to give us some time.

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Real reform requires honesty.
It requires evidence.
It requires experience.
And most importantly—it requires conversation.

Not lectures.
Not slogans.
And not screaming people into silence.

That’s what this podcast is about.

Not defending bad policing.
Not pretending problems don’t exist.

But talking honestly about what real police reform should actually look like—from the perspective of the people doing the job.

Because for too long, police reform has been happening to officers instead of with them.

And that’s how you end up with bad policy, dangerous policy, and officers who feel abandoned by the very people making decisions about their profession.

This season, we’re going to talk to the people on the street. Patrol officers. Trainers. Detectives. Supervisors. The men and women actually doing the work.

Not because they’re perfect.

But because if you want to reform policing, maybe you should start by listening to the people who actually police.