Cops & Lawyers: Combining the careers of law enforcement and the practice of law

By Dianne Molvig

ops and lawyers rub each other the wrong way at times - at least, that's the story often played out in television and movie dramas. To a certain extent, fiction does mirror truth. "Cops and lawyers," says Eau Claire attorney Rick Pendergast, "can be like oil and water."

Pendergast has a unique perspective behind that statement. He's one of a small but steadily growing group of Wisconsinites who have personally mixed the two worlds. In Pendergast's case, he wore an Eau Claire police officer badge for seven years. Today he practices law in the same community. Others have switched in the opposite direction: They left law practice to take police jobs, or they've earned their law degrees but stayed in law enforcement.

Why have some people decided to make such career shifts? Do they see benefits from working in both worlds? We asked several Wisconsin lawyers and law enforcement officers about their experiences.

Double Duty

For three years Lauri Schwefel put in eight-hour shifts as a Milwaukee police officer, plus she made her daily jaunt to Madison to attend classes at U.W. Law School, where she graduated in 1995. She got by on three hours of sleep a day. "I wanted it bad," Schwefel says of her law degree.

The strong drive to become a lawyer had its roots in Schwefel's experience as a plaintiff in a sexual harassment suit against the Milwaukee Police Department. She'd become a police aide at age 17, a full-fledged officer at 21, and after several promotions ended up a sergeant by age 28, becoming the first women to attain that rank in the department's history. That's when the trouble began.

"They just wouldn't allow me to do my job," Schwefel says of some of her fellow officers. "They made my life miserable." They bombarded her with allegations, caused her to be investigated five times, followed her to and from work, and even, Schwefel is convinced, wiretapped her telephone. When she'd had enough, she sued the department in 1987 and won her case in 1991. In between were four grueling years that Schwefel's attorney, Barbara Quindel, helped her survive. "She was my confidante," Schwefel says, "my counselor, and she was my lawyer. I realized how important all those roles were. I wanted to be just like her."

She also wanted to do for others what Quindel had done for her. Today Schwefel has a part-time law practice emphasizing sexual discrimination cases. The rest of her extremely full workday she fills with her full-time-plus duties as a police officer and the director of the Milwaukee Police Department's training bureau. She's in charge of the training program for 3,000 police and civilian employees, plus she teaches several classes herself - on sexual harassment among other topics. The department is "leaps and bounds from where we used to be," Schwefel notes.

Why do double duty as lawyer and cop? Schwefel says she's committed to at least fulfilling her 25-year obligation to the police department, of which she has five years remaining. And she might set her sights on becoming police chief someday. As for the concurrent sideline law practice, "I need to maintain a hands-on experience with the law," Schwefel says. "If I put it on the shelf for now, then I'll have five years of catching up to do. I want to have a feel for what's out there and what's coming up. I have to do both (jobs) right now."

These days her law enforcement experience and law degree blend into a new role, that of teacher. "When the police officers see me," she says, "they see a teacher. And they see a lawyer at the same time. Everybody knows I'm a lawyer ... I really don't see a distinction anymore. I believe I've pulled (those roles) together. I exist every day as both."

Seeing Through the Fog

If there's a theme running through his journeys into police work and then law it would be serendipity, says Milwaukee attorney Michael Guerin. When he was 21, driving a Pepsi truck for a living, a friend suggested they take the Milwaukee Police Department test together. Guerin describes his 10 years with the department as "a wonderful time of my life."

He left the police force to take a job as a special agent investigating organized crime and drug crimes for the Wisconsin Department of Justice. There Guerin became friends with Dan Hanley, the attorney general's press secretary, who encouraged him to pursue a law degree. "But for a foggy ride back from Madison with Dan Hanley," he says, "I would not have applied to law school."

Upon graduation, Guerin initially thought a job in the district attorney's office would be a logical progression from his police days. But he soon opted for a different direction. During law school, he'd worked with Frank Gimbel, who's currently one of Guerin's law firm partners. "He suggested I stay with him for a year or two," Guerin says, "to get some experience from the private bar side, with the idea that it would be part of further training to be a good district attorney. I never left."

Guerin now has been an attorney for nearly 25 years, handling mostly personal injury litigation. "I do a couple criminal cases a year," he says. "The ones I get the most notoriety for are when I represent police officers charged with crimes."

His police past still plays a part in his life in other ways, too, Guerin says. "There's something that comes with the experience on the street, working with law enforcement officers as brothers and sisters," he says. He taps into that experience when he teaches at police training programs, covering such topics as evidence and testifying in court, which he used to do every day as a patrol cop.

Now that he's president-elect of the Milwaukee Bar Association, Guerin says one message he hopes to convey is that lawyers should be proud they're lawyers. Cops, too, could use a dose of such thinking, he adds. Both "grind it out every day," Guerin says. "They think they're not making any impact on the world. Nothing could be farther from the truth. Every time a cop smiles at a little kid, that makes a difference. Every time a lawyer helps somebody with a simple problem, it makes a difference in that person's life."

Using That 'Sixth Sense'

Eau Claire attorney Rick Pendergast says one thing he took with him after seven years as a cop was "a sixth sense about people," which can serve an attorney well, too. "You learn so much about folks," Pendergast says of his police experience. "And, maybe more important, you learn a lot about yourself. The skills in interviewing and investigating also are helpful. But I think the main thing is more at a gut level. You have more of an understanding about yourself and human nature."

Pendergast has been practicing law for 11 years, ever since graduating from Hamline University School of Law. "I'd had a long-standing interest in history, government, and politics, even when I was still on the police department," Pendergast says (he'd finished an undergraduate degree in political science while working as a policeman). "So I thought going to law school was a natural thing to do."

The move to law school got an extra push due to tragedy. When Pendergast was not yet 30, one of his fellow officers, about his own age, was shot and killed while on duty. "That jarred me," he recalls, "and I thought it was time to go."

Like Guerin, Pendergast figured district attorney work would be the logical next step once he had his law degree. But clerkships during law school changed his mind. "I was exposed to other areas of the law I'd never been exposed to," he says. "That sparked my interest, and that's how I went down that path."

Today, as an attorney, he focuses primarily on personal injury and divorce cases. "And because I'm a hometown boy," he adds, "I do lots of other things, too. I represent lots of folks I know and folks they know."

Pendergast is proud of his years as a cop, and he admits the shift to being a lawyer wasn't always smooth. "For a long time while practicing law I thought the best years of my work life had been with the police department," he says. "It's taken me years to feel that same confidence in practicing law. There were times when I wondered, did I make the right decision. Now I believe I have."

"Practicing law is hard work," Pendergast adds, noting that view comes from someone who was raised on a farm and has worked at building houses and cleaning barns, as well as being a police officer. "It takes a long time to build a practice and to get your feet under you. But once you do, it feels pretty good."

Seeing the Gaps

When Dane County Sheriff's Department lieutenant Brian Willison told his boss, Sheriff Rick Raemisch, that he was going to law school - which Raemisch himself had done years before while working as a narcotics detective - the latter's immediate response was, "You're nuts," Willison recalls. "But then he was supportive." For five years Willison's routine was to report for duty at 6 a.m., work until 2 p.m., drive into Madison from Deforest, where he's precinct commander, attend law school classes until 8:30 p.m., and study all weekend.

Opposite (front to back:) Brian Willison, Dane County Sheriff's Department; Cheri Maples, Madison Police Department; and David Dickmann, Stevens Point Public Defender's Office, each agree that the experiences and knowledge they gained either as cops or lawyers are invaluable in their current careers.

It was worth it, says Willison, who's been with the sheriff's department for 21 years and got his law degree in May 1998. "I always had intentions of getting an advanced degree," he says. In fact, years ago his mother tried to persuade him to enter law school when he first mentioned he wanted to be a cop. "She was afraid of the job - a mom thing," Willison notes. But now that he's graduated, he plans to stay with the sheriff's department, at least for a few more years. "I have career goals here that I haven't attained yet," he says.

Besides his regular duties, Willison does law enforcement training and is on advisory committees for the state Department of Justice's board on law enforcement training standards. He's also become an expert witness on use-of-force issues and regulations. And he tracks state appeals and supreme court decisions to see how those affect the department's day-to-day operations. His law school background plays into everything he does, Willison says.

"It's so integrated," he explains. "I'm putting this knowledge base to use all the time, without thinking about it. You can't say, 'This is a law enforcement thing,' or 'This is a law thing.' There's just all this knowledge I now have about the law and how it comes into play so often."

As a lawyer and a cop he also notices educational gaps for each. As a case in point, he remembers a law school class discussion about search warrants. The professor relayed an example of a search-and-seizure case involving a hot dog vendor busted for selling drugs out of his cart right in front of the courthouse. How much easier could it have been, the professor emphasized, than for the police to walk into the courthouse to get a search warrant? "The impression was that you could just walk in and there was a pad there and you just tore off a search warrant," Willison says. "But getting a search warrant is a multi-hour process. Cops know that."

That's just one example illustrating how cops and lawyers often don't understand each others' jobs as well as they could, Willison points out. "If they had a better understanding of the process from the other player's perspective, I think things would go smoother," he says.

Two Out of Three

As a young girl, Cheri Maples had three ambitions: to become a cop, a lawyer, and a professional baseball player. "Two out of three's not bad," Maples says.

She's been an officer with the Madison Police Department for 15 years, during the last five of which she attended U.W. Law School part time. During those five years, "All I did was raise my kids (two sons, now ages 11 and 16), law school, and work," she says. She graduated this spring.

Before her tenure as a cop, Maples was a social worker, focusing on domestic violence. She was well on her way toward a Ph.D. in social work when she realized an academic profession wouldn't be right for her. She applied to the police department, which wasn't as much of a leap as many think. "A lot of what patrol officers do," she explains, "is crisis intervention."

Similarly, her law studies and police work have intertwined, Maples says. She feels her class work was enriched by the practical experience she's had in criminal procedure and constitutional law issues. And her legal training adds to her current job duties. "I think it's important for police officers to have an understanding of what it is we're trying to protect and what that means," Maples says. "Not that I didn't know that before. But law school helped me understand and appreciate it in a different way."

"I really did learn a lot in law school," Maples adds. "I've heard people say, 'I didn't learn anything in law school.' I think those are the people who don't see the big picture." For Maples, getting a better take on the big picture was one of the benefits of becoming a lawyer, while continuing to be a cop. Besides being a lieutenant in the detective division, she's also the department's sensitive crimes liaison. "I get to help set policy with respect to domestic violence, sexual assault, child abuse and neglect - things that are near and dear to my heart," Maples says. "So my worlds intermesh nicely."

At this point, Maples has no intention of leaving the police force. Still, a law degree boosts her future options should she ever want to be a police chief or hang out a shingle after retiring from the police force at age 52. But for now, Maples is staying put. And after five vacationless years while in law school, she's planning a month-long Himalayan trek this fall, during which, she says, "I plan to think about some things carefully."

For the Prosecution

Unlike Maples, Ricardo Perez had no childhood dream of being a police officer. "When I was growing up, I didn't care for the police at all," he says. "I guess I woke up and found I was the idiot, not the police, so I decided I'd like to give that a try." He became an officer with the Wisconsin State Patrol at age 23, initially in Kenosha County. After a few years, he was ready for a change.

"When you're young and full of vinegar," he points out, "you have this invincibility thing. You want to go out and catch the bad guys." But later Perez decided he wanted other things in his life someday, too: a family and home life. Working all but one weekend every month is tough on troopers' family lives. Perez knew he wanted a new line of work for his future. Law was his choice. He transferred his trooper job to Dane County and enrolled in U.W. Law School full time.

"The law fascinates me," Perez says. "I really enjoy reading it and trying to understand where people are coming from - understanding both sides and being able to argue both sides' interests." He'll graduate from law school in December. This summer he's completing a 10-week internship in the Kenosha County District Attorney's office.

Looking ahead, Perez says district attorney work is his top career choice. To that job he feels he could bring a valuable perspective from his trooper experiences. For example, "Officers often complain about how the DAs handle things, as far as plea bargaining and so on," Perez notes. "The officers sometimes see it as an attack on their credibility that the DA doesn't pursue charges. But the reality is we just don't have time to pursue all the charges."

At the same time, Perez knows how it feels to work the night shift as an officer, get home at 7 a.m., and then have to report for a 9 a.m. court appearance, only to find out it's been canceled. "I've been apologized to for that, but I've never been given an explanation as to why I didn't get the notice (of cancellation)," Perez says. Officers' annoyance understandably builds up, particularly when they have to make child care or other arrangements to be able to be in court.

This happens frequently, "and it really gives officers a sour taste about the prosecution and the defense," Perez says. "It's not that anybody is being vindictive or deceitful. It's just poor communication."

Having been in those shoes, Perez would make special efforts should he become a prosecutor. "I will make personal attempts," he says, "to get in contact with officers to let them know if a trial is going or not - before the end of their shift, or before they go on vacation. I'll try to make their job a little easier and make them want to come in and do a good job for me (in court)."

For the Defense

As a part-time U.W. Madison student studying sociology while he was working as a Sun Prairie police detective, David Dickmann often trudged up Bascom Hill on his way to classes. "I'd look over at the law school," he recalls, "and think, 'Maybe I ought to go there some day.' It wasn't really a serious thought."

But years later Dickmann reached a juncture in his career. He'd been a beat cop for six years and a detective for 10 years, all in Sun Prairie. He felt it was time either to move on to a bigger department or to try to nab a job with the Federal Bureau of Investigation. Starting at the bottom of the ladder in a new police department held no appeal. So he opted for the FBI. The last step in the bureau's hiring process was a physical, during which Dickmann was surprised to learn he had a high-frequency hearing loss, probably stemming from wearing headphones eight hours a day while in the Navy.

With the FBI off his list, "law school just kind of popped up on the radar screen," Dickmann says. He attended part time and, with the schedule of a combination law student/detective, "I missed a lot of Packers' games," he notes. He graduated in 1992 and has been an attorney with the public defender's office in Stevens Point ever since.

The move from detective to public defender might seem incongruous to some, Dickmann acknowledges, but not to him. Sure, he'd had his share of grilling from defense attorneys when he was a cop on the witness stand, "but I didn't take it personally," he says. "The way I saw it was that everybody had a role, and things would generally work out if you did the best professional job you could. So, for me, the logical progression (from police work) was to go into criminal law. And being either a prosecutor or defense attorney would have been absolutely fine with me."

The experiences and knowledge he gained as a cop are a plus as a lawyer, Dickmann says. "Those would serve me well as a prosecutor," he notes, "but I think they serve me even better as a defense attorney. When I look at a police report, I can read between the lines."

One aspect he misses from his police days is the special camaraderie that springs up among people working together in stressful situations. Now that he's a lawyer, "I don't know if it's because of my law enforcement background," Dickman says, "but I've made some good acquaintances with law enforcement officers here - even though they know if I get them on the stand, I'm going to give them a terrible time."

"I couldn't be happier than where I'm at with the public defender's office," he adds. "I love defense work. This is where I'll be until I'm done practicing law."

Badge to Bench

John Siefert, a newly elected Milwaukee County circuit court judge, always wanted to be a cop. Even when he went to law school, he yearned to be a cop. "I always wanted to get a realistic view of life on the street in the big city," he says. After graduating and serving a short stint as an assistant district attorney in northern Wisconsin, he headed to Milwaukee to join the police department in 1976.

From there, Siefert has been back and forth from badge to bench twice. After three years as a street cop in inner city Milwaukee, he successfully ran for municipal judge in 1979, obtaining a leave of absence from the police department. After an unsuccessful bid for reelection four years later, he returned to his squad car, where he put in another six-year stretch. Plus, he did legal work for an insurance company on the side. Every so often the company offered him a full-time position, and when Siefert had an episode while chasing a robbery suspect (he collapsed with what he thought was a heart attack, although it wasn't), he decided maybe the insurance executive job wasn't such a bad idea. He stayed there a year, before being elected Milwaukee County treasurer, and then in 1993 voters once again returned him to the municipal bench. In April 1999, in the midst of his second term, he succeeded in running for circuit court judge.

All through this history, Siefert cites a synergy, as he calls it, between his law and police backgrounds. For instance, the prime reason he first ran for municipal judge was to firm up enforcement of fine collection for quasi-criminal offenses in the city. Many assault and battery, vandalism, theft, and other crimes in Milwaukee are charged as ordinance violations, rather than criminal misdemeanors, due to system overload. Perpetrators receive tickets with fines attached and wind up in municipal court. But from being a cop, Siefert knew that those tickets were a dead end: Too many offenders were not paying their fines - and getting away with it.

That's just one instance signifying a larger problem, Siefert says. "Different parts of the overall criminal justice system are talking past each other," he says, "because they don't understand what the other parts are doing."

As for the attorney's part, what distinguishes that role from the others, Siefert emphasizes, is the commitment to due process. "That's very important," he says, "because nonlawyers often don't understand it at all."

Identity theft is another problem Siefert saw as a cop that he's worked on in his second municipal judge term. This can be a serious problem when a city goes to a citation system rather than a system of summary arrest for assaults, thefts, and so on. When receiving the citation, perpetrators often use a false name, or steal another's name. There's no booking to verify identity. The person whose name is on the ticket doesn't appear in municipal court because he or she is unaware of the charge, and therefore is found guilty by default. "That citation comes back to haunt and ruin the life of the person whose name was stolen," Siefert says. Again, it's a glitch that arises because different parts of the criminal justice system don't completely understand the workings of other parts.

"It's one criminal justice system," Siefert says. "The ability to understand all the components and how they interrelate is extremely valuable. My one regret is that so far in my career I've had no experience in corrections and probation and parole. The more you understand the system as a whole, the better you are able to function in any given part of it."

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