ORLANDO, Fla. – One sunny afternoon in January, Orlando police officer Rick Fink is making a trip it’s taken him nearly seven years to face.
He’s headed back to Pulse Nightclub for the first time since the massacre, when a gunman took 49 lives back in June 2016.
Fink is emotional walking up to the memorial that stands on the club’s property, full of memorabilia, photos, tokens of love and flowers.
“It’s been six years of hell,” Fink said.
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Fink takes his time examining every photo, reading signs, weaving his way through the memories that have been plastered there to remember those lives lost. He pauses at some as they hit a nerve, wiping away tears, crouching to get a better look.
“She was the security guard I worked with,” said Fink, pointing to a smiling photo of a young woman. “I went back inside, that girl who was leaning against the VIP wall, I went back inside to get her. I had no idea she was dead until I pulled her up and I saw her face.”
But she isn’t the only one who haunts his memories.
“I had a guy die in my arms. I brought him out, then the tactical truck came out and I brought him right over here. I picked him up and a deputy picked his legs up. We were putting him on the bed and he was gone,” Fink said. “I can still see him. He had said, ‘Please, don’t leave me in here’ when we were in the lobby. My therapist makes the point, ‘You did what he said.’ I remember, like, losing him, how evil this world is.”
It’s a difficult trip back to the Orlando nightclub, but it’s one that’s necessary for Fink’s healing.
“For me, for so long, it was the feeling of guilt, the feeling of being responsible. All those things just kept replaying in my mind, in my mind, in my mind. And after a while you start believing, you start thinking, ‘I wasn’t good enough’ or ‘I’m responsible for him dying,’ ‘I should have saved them,’” Fink said. “But you have no idea that’s not the case. And it’s the devil, it’s the demons, it’s the darkness, that is slowly taking over you.”
But the darkness Fink is experiencing isn’t just because of Pulse.
“It started with Christina Grimmie. When she was killed at the Plaza Live, I was in patrols at that time, so I had to go sit with her. And I don’t know why she made such a big impact on me. The next night was Pulse,” Fink said. “Matthew Baxter, the Kissimmee police officer, he was one of my best friends. So then he got shot and killed. And then in 2018, my dad died of an opiate overdose. And then in 2019, I was hurt on the job. And in 2020, my wife and I, we lost our baby. And then 2021, my best friend from the army committed suicide.”
That’s when Fink said it all came to a head.
“Two and a half weeks later, my daughter was born and I didn’t feel anything for her. That was my aha moment because like, this beautiful baby, like, beautiful little princess, that he feels nothing for. It’s not fair to her. It’s not fair to my wife, not fair to my son. Daddy wasn’t OK,” he said.
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Fink realized he needed to find help, but soon found the options available to officers weren’t really cutting it.
“It’s just a generalized program,” he said. “You have one mental health member in a classroom with 20 to 25 people. I remember thinking in that moment, ‘There’s no way I’m going to tell you my story because you’re not going to remember mine plus the other 24.’”
When he tried to meet with a therapist initially, he was canceled on multiple times.
“I finally told the therapy program and they said I was too damaged,” Fink said. “Other than that, we have nothing as law enforcement.”
So Fink decided to take matters into his own hands, creating the Officer Support Initiative.
“OSI is a peer-to-peer support program that allows officers to come forward and have full trust in us that we won’t, obviously, betray it. Because if you betray one officer’s trust, you’re done,” Fink said. “And so if they need to, you know, they just want to vent, they can vent if they want to, you know, talk to a therapist, we have therapists that are working with us.”
The program builds camaraderie between officers because they understand what one another is going through as far as the demands and the experiences of the job. There are different OSI liaisons in the program that are part of different groups in the agency—dispatchers, crime scene techs and others.
That way, they’re able to do what they call a buddy check. If they know a particularly difficult call has gone out, they’re able to reach out to those people who worked it to make sure everyone is doing OK.
“It shows officers that one: People are paying attention. And then two: If we’re reaching out, it’s okay to say something,” Fink said.
That’s key because one of OSI’s primary goals is breaking the stigma.
“It’s that stigma of, especially as a man, looking weak, looking insecure, looking, you know, not good enough,” Fink said. “One out of every 4 officers will or are going to have suicidal ideations. But if you have a sergeant or a supervisor, and no fault of their own, because that’s a stigma, but you say, ‘Hey, I was having a suicidal ideation,’ you’re done. You know, you automatically get relieved of duty.”
But Fink argued getting help is what makes a good leader and that’s why he’s made it his mission to get officers the help they need.
“I want to be able to help these officers. I don’t want them to come to me, and I don’t live up to their expectations,” Fink said. “But in terms of what they’re reaching out to me for, yes, I mean, substance abuse, relationships, struggle with the purposes, the guilt that they feel for, you know, whatever has haunted them. So an officer is talking to me. And you know, I say, ‘Say something good about yourself.’ And they’ll say, ‘I have nothing good to say.’ But I recognize that because that was me. Right? I think that’s what’s so important is because I lived it. I still live with every day.”
The program is still in the early stages but so far, it has helped dozens of officers across Central Florida.
“All these people started coming to you, because they know what you’ve been through and because you talk about it,” News 6 reporter Erik von Ancken said.
“Very openly, yes,” Fink said. “Now I go around, and I speak to the local all the local agencies, CIT classes, as well as the police academy.”
He said when officers can’t reach out “it will cost us a lot more in the end than if we do this now.”
“Ultimately, suicide?” von Ancken said.
“Yes,” Fink said.
Newly-appointed Orlando Police Chief Eric Smith said support like this is important for officers.
“Anything that makes our officers better I support 100%,” Smith said.
He added that the city is looking to adopt the program, but is also looking into other programs that might help officers.
It’s Fink’s hope that peer-to-peer support programs like OSI will become the norm across agencies. If he’s able to secure enough funding, he’s considering adding an app, training courses and even retreats.
“I think one officer is one too many. And I can’t, I can’t stomach that,” Fink said.
And in the meantime, he’ll keep up his own healing.
“Oftentimes, you know, people tell you drive on, don’t look back. But I think it’s important to take a second stop and look at where you are. Look back and see how far you’ve come. And then drive on. Because you don’t forget who you are. Don’t forget that,” Fink said.
The Officer Support Initiative recommended these resources for any law enforcement officer in need of assistance:
Survive First Foundation
Contact: www.survivefirst.us
Blue Line Support
Contact: 855-964-2583
https://bluelinesupport-bls.org
Hook a Hero
Contact: www.hookahero.com
Trauma Behind the Badge
Contact: www.Traumabehindthebadge.us
The Wounded Blue
Contact: www.thewoundedblue.org
Life Time Counseling
Contact: www.lccbrevard.org
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