The Crisis of Leadership in Corrections: Time to Reclaim Our Profession
When fellow officers become the threat, we've lost our way. It's time to lead.
I spend considerable time in the online forums and groups where correctional officers gather—those digital spaces where the men and women behind the badge share their experiences, seek advice, and find community. These interactions keep me connected to the pulse of our profession, introduce me to officers from across the country and around the globe, and remind me daily of the extraordinary courage it takes to walk into work each day knowing you'll be surrounded by hardened criminals with little recognition for your sacrifice.
Most of these encounters are inspiring. Today was not one of them.
When the Threat Comes from Within
An officer posted about being physically threatened—not by an inmate, but by a fellow officer. Before I could process the implications of that disturbing reality, someone responded with something even more troubling: "Maybe you don't belong in corrections if you're too scared of that sort of thing."
As someone who has dedicated his career to advocating for this profession and the brave souls who choose it, I couldn't let that stand. I challenged the commenter directly, though perhaps not in language suitable for this more formal setting. His response was predictable—defensive, unhelpful, and devoid of anything resembling professionalism or insight.
But this incident isn't about one toxic exchange in a Facebook group. It's a symptom of a much larger disease eating away at our profession from within.
The Leadership Crisis No One Talks About
Corrections is suffering from a crisis of leadership, and it's killing us—literally and figuratively.
We've created a culture where rabble-rousing misfits are given the same platform and respect as professional veterans. Where negativity is worn as a badge of honor and professionalism is seen as weakness. Where esprit de corps has been replaced by infighting, and mentorship has been abandoned for mockery.
This has to stop.
When officers are more afraid of their colleagues than their charges, when seeking help is met with derision instead of support, when toxic behavior is excused as "just the way things are"—we've lost sight of what it means to serve with honor.
The Cost of Our Dysfunction
Corrections has one of the highest suicide rates of any profession. After witnessing exchanges like today's, I understand why.
We're not just facing dangerous inmates, impossible conditions, and public indifference. We're battling a culture that eats its own young, where asking for help is seen as weakness and supporting a colleague is viewed with suspicion.
Every day, officers walk into facilities where they should be able to count on their partners, their supervisors, their teams. Instead, too many are looking over their shoulders, wondering if the next threat will come from the cell block or the break room.
Time to Lead
I founded my Facebook group "Keepers of Kaos" as a support network for those who do this impossible job. The mission was simple: mentor, teach, train, and make things easier for every officer willing to learn and grow.
That mission shouldn't be revolutionary. It should be standard.
Every professional in corrections should work toward these same ends. Every shift supervisor, every captain, every warden, every veteran officer should ask themselves: "What did I do today to help another officer excel?"
Because here's the truth that toxic voices don't want to acknowledge: As a team, we are invincible. Divided, bickering, and tearing each other down, we are nothing but targets.
The Challenge
I challenge every reader—whether you're a rookie or a 30-year veteran, whether you're line staff or administration—to commit to fighting for a workplace free of toxic conflicts and negativity. A workplace built on honor, dignity, professionalism, and a genuine desire to help every officer reach their potential.
This isn't about being "soft" or "political correctness." This is about survival. This is about excellence. This is about remembering that we're all on the same side of the bars for a reason.
The bratty misfits who mistake cruelty for strength have had their day. It's time for real leaders to step forward and reclaim our profession.
Every Day Matters
Leadership isn't a rank—it's a choice. You don't need stripes on your sleeve to mentor a rookie, defend a colleague being bullied, or speak up when someone crosses the line from tough to toxic.
Every day, in ways both large and small, we have the opportunity to build up rather than tear down. To protect rather than predators. To lead rather than follow the worst examples.
The officers who come after us are watching. The public we serve is judging. Most importantly, the colleagues standing beside us need to know they can count on us when it matters most.
The choice is ours. The time is now.
What will you do today to make corrections better than you found it?