Sunday Star Times
February 8, 2004
Undercover officers risk deep damage
by David Fisher
Undercover work places cops in an anti-women world of drugs
and distorted values. Few officers leave it unscathed.
Clint Rickards was always a survivor.
Others who worked in the dangerous field of undercover policing still carry the
scars. Many have left the police force; some with mental health problems,
others struggling with drug dependency they blame on the job.
Yet Rickards survived and built an impressive career. "How did Rickards
find it in himself to carry on, when we reached the end of our endurance?"
his former colleagues ask.
They were brave young men and women, the police officers who joined the
undercover programme. It was sold to them as an elite unit, its members a
"cut above" other officers. The law was changed to allow them, in
some circumstances, to take cannabis and its derivatives, so they could survive
deep cover.
The country called and they answered, with pride. When they accepted the offer
to go undercover, many say they had an idealistic ambition to keep
Rickards' rise to assistant commissioner from the turmoil of the undercover
programme was greeted with wonder by former officer Deane Tully. "I'm
surprised he got that far." Tully met Rickards in
Rickards looked the part, says Tully. Built like a tank on legs, tattoos up his
arms. "He was a mean-looking dude", whose reputation as an undercover
operative preceded him.
The pair hung out for a few days at a pub where the deal was to happen. It
never did; the pair spent the time drinking and talking.
During that time, Tully got the impression Rickards was "pretty blown out
by the whole undercover thing and didn't know what he was going to do".
Tully, who left
The sentiment is common, even if the reasons vary. Some speak of a lack of
psychological support after exiting the programme. For Wendy Heath, it was the
"hypocrisy" of breaking the law by drug-taking to enforce it, the
dirty feeling of befriending people then betraying them.
The immersive environment carried dangers. Long periods spent undercover,
drinking alcohol and smoking dope on a daily basis and surrounded by people
whose ethical and moral codes were substantially different, added to the
burden.
The police environment was male-dominated to the detriment of women, says
Heath.
Joining the force in 1975, she found the "macho" culture in the police
even greater than that of the criminal world.
"The macho side of things gets emphasised more in the police than it does
in the wider community."
But those who worked in the undercover programme were even more exposed. In the
public bar scene, which they frequented, women were treated poorly.
"We used to refer to the (undercover guys) as the Black T-Shirt
Brigade."
The basis of the undercover programme was unsound, Heath says. She remembers
the moment she put on her uniform again after a period undercover. "It was
awful. It felt like it didn't fit properly anymore. .
. and I don't mean physically. The undercover programme was based on a simple
premise - go out there, make friends with people, get them to trust you, then betray them."
Heath came out from undercover, applied for the CIB and transferred there after
six months back in uniform. Even then, she left in 1991.
"You risk becoming a hypocrite if you stay on," she says.
Another former undercover officer, Wayne Haussmann,
was jailed for importation of heroin after picking up a drug habit while
working undercover.
Undercover work "changes your perspective on all aspects of policing, and
life in general. You end up doing all the things you joined the police to stop
other people doing," he says.
Haussmann joined the force in January 1974 and left
in 1986, the year of his conviction. He went undercover not long after joining
the force and stayed under for two years.
"I'm disappointed at undercover and the way it has affected me. (When) I
joined. . . I had a desire to do my bit. I was quite zealous back then."
He says he can't comment on the Nicholas allegations but says in his opinion
undercover work can affect an officer's view of women.
"Some of us were in scenes with a lot of working girls.
. . hookers. For a lot of us undercovers, women were
second-class citizens. They are treated differently in the (criminal) scene to
how I was used to treating women. Women were there to be used.
"(The attitude was) women didn't count the same, they were there for the
guys' use."
Haussmann says like drug use, adopting the same
attitudes was a matter of self-preservation for officers when working
undercover.
If he had stepped away from the pack, he would have placed himself in danger.
However, he says he "stood out because I was different with the
ladies".
Being undercover meant taking life as close to the edge of the law - and
sometimes common sense - as possible. Many operatives crossed the line.
Haussmann is one of those who went so far over he
would inevitably get caught.
But there are former undercover officers who still serve in the police who also
crossed the line - in the name of duty.
Some still cross it, according to their disenchanted former colleagues. As Haussmann says, they are "smoking their dope and
getting on with life". They are also wrestling with the scars of their
undercover experience.
Haussmann: "Man, it would be lovely to sort it
out differently."