By Chief Eric H. Small
I’ve worn a badge in Maine for decades, but never have I felt more powerless that I do today – not because the job has changed, but because the law has.
Police officers in our state face different challenges than we did when I first joined the force. These include decriminalization without structure, a revolving door for offenders, communities are stuck in the cross-fire, recruitment is flagging, lawmakers seem increasingly out of touch with reality, the focused on recovery is often out-of-balance, and local and state authorities are now being told not to cooperate with our federal counter-parts.
Let’s address each of these problems in order.
In 2016, Maine lawmakers pursued a dramatic shift in drug policy. Possession of even the most lethal substances like heroin, meth, and fentanyl has effectively been reduced to a misdemeanor in many cases. There is no arrest. No jail. The idea may have been to help people, but in practice, we’ve created chaos.
The message now is distressingly clear: possession of deadly drugs is not a criminal issue. But we’ve made that decision without building the treatment systems needed to catch those falling through the cracks. The consequences are real: open-air drug use, discarded needles, psychosis-induced violence, and an ever-growing number of overdoses in public spaces. The law says this is compassion. The street says otherwise.
Here’s something I see more often than I’d like to admit: individuals with five, ten, or even more than a dozen sets of active bail conditions. Each one tied to a separate arrest. Each one with a promise to appear. And each one, more often than not, ignored. The result is a complete erosion of accountability. A person can commit new crimes like shoplifting, burglary, even assaults, while already out on bail for similar offenses. There is no deterrent. There is no mechanism to hold them. And when officers arrest the same person multiple times in a month, only to watch them walk out the door hours later, it sends a message: the system doesn’t care. So why should they?
We do not need mass incarceration. But we do need consequences. We need public safety. Right now, we don’t have either.
Residents often ask why police aren’t “cracking down.” I hear this all the time from the people in my small city. They want to know why the same people are causing problems again and again. The answer is simple: the law doesn’t let us do anything else.
When officers see someone passed out from drugs in front of a business, we can’t arrest them. If someone’s holding fentanyl during an overdose, we can’t arrest them. If a mentally ill person trespasses repeatedly, we can’t mandate treatment. And all the while, the community is left wondering what happened to accountability.
There’s another consequence that doesn’t get enough attention: recruiting. Young people no longer want to join this profession, not because they fear hard work, but because they see what’s happening. They see officers stripped of authority. They see lawlessness treated as policy. And they see a system that refuses to support the very people expected to hold the line.
Why would someone risk their safety, their reputation, and their future to join a profession where the laws don’t back them up?
Departments across Maine are struggling to fill ranks. Applications are down. Veteran officers are burning out. And it’s not because the mission has changed, it’s because the tools to fulfill it have been taken away.
The legislative environment in Augusta has grown dangerously out of touch. Efforts to reduce incarceration have gone so far that law enforcement has been stripped of the ability to intervene until someone dies or becomes violent.
We need a correction. Not a return to the past, but a return to balance. That means:
–Restoring felony criminal penalties for possession of lethal drugs.
–Funding more detox and treatment beds, with direct access from law enforcement
encounters. Treatment and accountability can exist together.
–Creating legal authority to mandate care for those in life-threatening cycles of crisis. —
–Give law enforcement the power to make a decision for a person who clearly cannot make it for themselves, yet they continue to create chaos in their community.
–Reforming bail laws to stop the revolving door of repeat offenders.
–Supporting co-responder models that embed social workers with, not in place of police.
Before anyone assumes this is just a “tough on crime” rant, let me be clear: I’ve spent my career supporting recovery. I’ve served on the Maine Recovery Council and the Board of Directors for the Maine Association of Recovery Residences. I’ve worked side by side with people in crisis. I’ve helped individuals struggling with substance use disorder and mental illness get into treatment, into housing, and into jobs. And I’ve watched many of them rebuild their lives. I started the Mental Health Unit at the Sanford Police Department because I believe in helping people
But here’s the truth: we’ve lost balance. We’ve tipped so far toward non-enforcement that even people who want help are left stranded in a system with no structure. Recovery without accountability doesn’t work. And communities like mine are paying the price.
The phrase “treatment, not jail” is repeated often in Augusta, but it doesn’t reflect reality on the ground. As recently as 2016–2018, about 8.6% of Mainers—roughly 94,000 people—had a substance use disorder, and state data showed a substantial number didn’t receive needed care.
While updated Maine-specific numbers for 2022–2023 are still pending, the National Survey on Drug Use and Health (NSDUH) reports show only about 4–5% of those in need receive treatment. That’s not progress. That’s a deepening gap.
And when treatment doesn’t exist, or is months away, the promise becomes a lie.
Detox beds are scarce. Waitlists for mental health services stretch for months. Police and EMS do the best they can, offering resources, doing welfare checks, but too often we find the same person in the same crisis, day after day, on the same sidewalk or in the same doorway. Nothing changes, because there’s no structure behind the slogans. Officers and families alike are left holding the bag, wondering where the help is that politicians keep promising.
York County Government had the courage to do what the State wouldn’t: they invested their American Rescue Plan funds into something that will actually save lives, a 58-bed residential recovery center in Alfred. Construction is already underway. Results.
And they weren’t alone. The City of Sanford also saw value in using its ARPA funds to launch something innovative: the hiring of a Mental Health First Responder to help those in crisis, a new concept in policing at the time, but one rooted in compassion, safety, and accountability. While others were talking, Sanford was acting.
Another bill now headed to the Governor’s desk is LD 1971. While it may be framed as a worker protection bill, in practice it creates unnecessary confusion, undermines public safety, and restricts law enforcement’s ability to do our jobs effectively.
I do not support LD 1971. This bill seeks to limit the ability of local and state law enforcement to communicate or cooperate with federal immigration officials, even in cases involving serious threats to public safety. In reality, LD 1971 goes far beyond protecting workers. It hinders common-sense coordination between local, state, and federal partners. It may even prevent officers from sharing critical information with agencies like Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE), even when
individuals are involved in violent crimes, drug trafficking, or human exploitation.
As a graduate of the FBI National Academy and someone who has participated in countless multi-agency operations, I can say plainly: coordination saves lives. LD 1971 undermines that, not just for immigration-related issues, but for cases involving gangs, drugs, and trafficking networks.
Let me be clear: Maine law enforcement does not target immigrants. But we also should not be forced to ignore credible threats, known gang affiliations, or active trafficking operations simply because a state law tells us not to communicate with federal authorities.
LD 1971 is yet another example of policy written without input from the men and women who do this work every day. It ties the hands of law enforcement, erodes interagency trust, and places politics over public safety. That helps no one, especially not the law-abiding members of Maine’s immigrant communities, who deserve the same safe, stable neighborhoods as everyone else.
I strongly urge the Governor to veto LD 1971. Public safety and accountability should not be sacrificed for political messaging. WE’RE STILL SHOWING UP, BUT WE CAN’T DO IT ALONE Maine police officers are still showing up. We still try. But we’re being asked to solve problems with no legal tools and no backup from the system that’s supposed to support public safety. And then we’re criticized for not doing enough.
Let’s be clear, citizens should know that we cannot enforce laws that no longer exist. And no number of good intentions will protect a community if there’s no accountability backing it up. Without accountability, treatment is a myth. Without laws, law enforcement is theater. Let us do the job the public expects. Give us the tools. And above all, listen to what’s really happening in communities like mine before the damage becomes permanent.
To the reader: ask yourself honestly, do you want to live in this version of Maine? If not, then maybe you will agree we can only get to a safer, more accountable and frankly functional state with leadership committed to these goals. Something has simply got to change.
This opinion is mine and not necessarily the opinion of all Maine police officers or the City of Sanford.
Eric Small is the Chief of Police in Sanford, Maine, where he has served for more than 25 years in Maine law enforcement.
