When somebody really needs the police, there’s a good chance they’re already having a bad day. They may be scared, angry, confused, or worried about somebody they care about. That’s a terrible time for me to discover that the first relationship we’re trying to build with them is happening in the middle of a crisis.

Most of the trust I can influence gets built before that, usually through pretty ordinary stuff. Did I return the call I said I’d return? Did I answer a question without making the person feel like they were bothering me? Did I listen when somebody had a complaint, even if I didn’t agree with it? Have people seen enough of me when nothing is wrong to have some idea how I’m going to treat them when something is?

I’m probably as guilty as anybody of missing those opportunities. My mind is usually moving a hundred miles an hour, and I’m usually thinking about the next problem, a phone call I need to return, or the six things I’m trying to get done at once.

I’ll say hello to somebody and keep moving because I don’t want to interrupt them or turn a passing greeting into a thirty-minute conversation. I may mean absolutely nothing by it, but they don’t know what’s happening in my head. To them, maybe I was too busy to speak. Maybe I didn’t remember them. Maybe I just didn’t care enough to stop.

I’ve rubbed people the wrong way that way before, and I’m sure I’ve done it more times than anybody ever told me about. That doesn’t mean I need to stop and have a conversation with every person I pass. It does remind me that my intention is only half of the interaction.

Sometimes slowing down long enough to actually acknowledge somebody is enough. Sometimes they really do want to tell me something, and I need to recognize that before I’ve already walked away.

Those little interactions don’t guarantee somebody will trust the police. One good conversation isn’t going to erase somebody’s bad experience with another officer or another department. But people do remember how we treat them. They remember whether somebody listened, whether we followed through, and whether the chief was willing to explain a decision even when they still thought it was the wrong one.

They remember the other stuff too.

That’s why I don’t put much faith in visibility by itself. I can show up at every community event, shake hands, take pictures, and still lose credibility if people see that I don’t return calls, don’t listen once the conversation gets uncomfortable, or lose interest when we disagree.

I’m going to miss interactions, and officers are going to have bad days. We’re going to say something poorly, forget a call, or leave somebody with an impression we didn’t intend. I’d rather find out about that on an ordinary Tuesday, when I still have a chance to fix it, than during a serious call when I’m asking somebody to trust us immediately.

By then, I’m probably working with whatever relationship I built before they ever needed us.