Good Cop, Sad Cop

Perps must have done a double take when Deputy Angela Holland popped out of her patrol car. It was the usual white Crown Victoria with "Sheriff" in big green letters on the side, and perps know how hot the hood of a King County Sheriff's patrol car feels. But a 5-foot-6 cop with blue eyes and blond hair pulled back in a ponytail? That was different. So, too, was Holland's manner, as bright and perky as a corporate publicist. Of course, she could go from Deputy Friendly to Deputy Hard-Ass on a dime. She was a cop, after all.

Holland, 30, shape-shifted like that all the time while on patrol just south of the Seattle city line in the unincorporated parts of South Park and White Center, known to some as "Rat City," as well as in a healthy slice of the unhealthy sides of Burien and SeaTac. There were a lot of rats in those parts. Gangsters of every ethnic stripe, crack dealers, meth heads, murderers, rapists, and folks gone crazy from drink and drugs, putting fists and guns to whoever was handy. Holland's job was to help keep all of that from getting out of control.

She had a way of doing it.

One night in 2002, she went with several deputies to collar a man in SeaTac. The man was a 6-foot-4 Samoan and had a good 200 pounds on Holland. Samoans are known for their ability to throw down harder than any other humans. This man had recently gotten out of the psych unit at Harborview Medical Center. One of the deputies wanted to use a Taser on the man, who was verbally combative. He was off his meds, out of control. Even his family feared him when he got this way. Holland stepped up to the man, with whom she'd dealt before, and said, "I give you respect. You owe me some."

The man allowed himself to be cuffed and, later, strapped into four-point restraints in the back of an ambulance. Incident resolved—without a scratch or electrical charge. "It was amazing," says a witness to the event, who requested anonymity. Holland has a lot of cop friends out there, because she was smart, effective, and reliable. But they have to watch what they say now, because Holland had a secret, and now that it's out, her colleagues are at odds with the official line.

Holland wasn't hiding from an excessive-force charge or a bad shoot. In her career, she'd pulled her Glock and pointed it at another human some 50 times, typically during stops of stolen cars. Not once had she discharged it. She was regarded by other cops at Precinct 4 as a good cop and didn't have a major mark against her. But she was taking so many sick days that command noticed. What's up with Holland?

She wondered, too, and in police culture you don't want colleagues or the brass to wonder about you. You've got to look like you are always in control, a paragon of American virtue and cop tradition, even if something else is going on beneath the badge. Something was, and Holland kept it to herself for three and a half years.

Smart cops know you can only dodge trouble for so long, and she wasn't a dumb cop. So late last June, Holland tossed some paperwork in the sheriff's office internal mail to request time off because she had bipolar disorder and was under a doctor's care. Her doctor had made a change in her medication, and Holland needed to be able to take some extra days, as allowed under federal law, should the switch prove troublesome.

"I did the right thing, and I know it," she says.

Days later, on July 6, her gun and badge were taken away. She was fired last November after more than six years on the force. King County Sheriff Susan Rahr says she had to protect the public. But from what?

King County Sheriff Sue Rahr: "I am damned if I do and damned if I don't." (Kevin P. Casey)

Policing isn't merely a job or career choice—it's a lifestyle, one that most people will never understand or appreciate. An accountant can always find another accounting job. But once a cop gets kicked from the force, there aren't many policing jobs available this side of mall security.

"July 6 changed my life forever," Holland says. She cried in the office of her boss when she handed over her badge and .40-caliber Glock. It was tough to accept. She'd never screwed up on the job. But there are deputies who have, in major ways, and they're still driving Crown Victorias around King County. The clear message to other King County deputies who have mental-health issues (and they are out there): Stay in the closet. Don't take steps to get healthy. For the 3 million of us Americans who are bipolar, it's a familiar implied message.