Talk about a group that could destroy your life if they wanted to Gay, Lesbian, Bisexual and Transgender Police Officers could destroy your life if they chose to secretly investigate someone they hated. Put one of these with a Government Informant that hate you that is secretly a bisexual hustler/gangster. Game over.

At the 111th Conference of the International Association of Chiefs of Police in November, GOAL/NE presented a program called “Gay, Lesbian, Bisexual and Transgender Police Officers: A Chief’s Perspective.” Before one can understand the significance of that, consider this: The International Association of Chiefs of Police (IACP) is the world’s oldest and largest membership organization of police executives, with more than 19,000 members in over 100 different countries.

Michael P. Carney

Springfield native, Detective Michael P. Carney, current president of GOAL/NE, became a police officer at age 22 and was in denial about his sexual orientation.

“I constantly fought my identity. I thought it would go away,” said the 44-year-old detective. “I tried to be the person everybody thought I should be. I always had a good-looking woman on my arm,” said Carney. “When I thought they were onto me, I dumped them.” There was no way that Carney would reveal his sexual orientation. “No one knew. I didn’t trust anybody. I thought the guys at work would kill me.” Carney remembers at his police academy graduation party, rumors about a fellow graduate being gay (and who brought a male friend to the party), resulted in that officer being beaten up at the party.

Living that way took its toll. “It was tough to try to be two people. You had a public life and in the back of your mind, another one,” said Carney. “In 1989, I resigned. In 1990, I hit bottom. I sought help and decided to get honest with myself and my family and friends.”

Carney decided to return to the force in 1992 and was rejected from re-entering for being gay. Eventually – three tries, an attorney and a historic lawsuit later – he was back. This spring [ballots were cast in May 2005; results weren’t in when this article was written], Carney will step down as president of GOAL/NE, although he will remain involved in the organization, as he has from its inception.

A rejection Carney faced much later in his career still galls him. Three years ago, Carney set up a blood drive for his work partner who was shot, but was then denied giving blood himself. “I am HIV-negative, but I can never give blood because I am gay. That’s egregious,” said Carney, pointing out that anyone, regardless of gender or sexual orientation, can have the disease and that all blood is tested.

Not being able to claim domestic partners for tax purposes or for benefits packages are other points Carney brings up. The latter issue is critically important for officers who may be injured in the line of duty. Acknowledging that some New England states allow for domestic partnerships, marriage and civil unions, Carney said that’s hardly the case across the country.

“I don’t think our job is done until we’re all treated equally,” said Carney. “I can speak for my department and I feel treated equally. But there are many gay and lesbian officers who are not. I hear about it every day. I can’t tell you that everything is okay. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve talked to suicidal police officers, firefighters. We need to support all of our members … to make sure we all get home safely.”

Robert J. Aldridge

For years, Chief Robert J. Aldridge compartmentalized his private and personal lives. Though the 25-year-old knew in seventh or eighth grade he was gay, he says he dated girls in high school “to fit in.” When he came out to his mom in his junior year of college, and he laughs when he tells this story, she said, “Let’s not tell too many people, in case you change your mind.”

Well, he didn’t change his mind, but he also didn’t come out immediately at work. After being chief of police of South Hampton for a more than a year [the youngest in state history; he was just 22], Aldridge came back inspired after attending New York Pride in 2002. He told his department and says it was simply not a big deal to anyone.

Aldridge is very focused on education and policy and leads much of the diversity training that GOAL/NE does at police departments. He is currently the GOAL/NE vice president and was one of the officers instrumental in getting the training program in place at the IACP conference last year.

At a recent training at the Framingham Police Department, Aldridge stressed that police policies, many written years ago, need to be updated. For example, the commitment ring he wears on his ring finger became something of a problem when he was at the NH police academy. Policy stated that only wedding bands could be worn, which Aldridge protested. At the time it was written, the intent of that law was probably not targeted at discrimination of gay couples, but all the same, it impacts them in a state where they can’t marry.

Aldridge didn’t back down. He wore his ring through his training and does to this day, making a statement without having to say a word.

Norman J. Hill

Based on my personal fears, there was no way that I had the courage to self-identify,” said Sergeant Detective Norman J. Hill, of his many years of keeping his sexual orientation a secret from family, friends and co-workers. It’s hard to imagine that Hill could be afraid of anything when you look at the fit 45-year-old, an imposing figure in a suit and sunglasses, standing more than six feet tall,. But while the Roxbury native knew in the eighth grade he had no interest in women, he didn’t really know what that meant.

“It was something I never talked about. Gay, straight, we didn’t have any of that [language],” Hill said. “It was traumatic. I had no one to talk to.” The one thing he did know was that he wanted to be a police officer, like six relatives of his that were on the force. “I molded my whole life around obtaining that goal,” Hill said. So he kept his secret and moved through the ranks, and his fears came with him.

Finally, in the 1980s, Hill decided to self-identify, as he puts it. “I began to search for people like me.” Even after that though, he still felt alone. “I knew of a few others [gay police officers], but they were not out. I felt a lot of my peers didn’t understand me.”

Then Hill met the then-president of GOAL/NE, who invited him to a meeting. It changed his life.

“I’ll always remember that feeling. I’ll never forget,” says Hill of the moment he walked into a room of fellow gay officers. “It was such a relief. They were like me. I was not unique.”

Eventually, Hill joined GOAL/NE and even served as president for three years. Now, working in recruitment, Hill is in an ideal position to offer advice to incoming officers.

“Come out at your own pace. Walk through your fears. Reach out to GOAL,” said Hill. “It’s a journey of discovery and at the end, there’s a pot of gold.”

Lorraine Busconi-Cambria

While Sergeant Busconi-Cambria may be celebrating her 18th year as a police officer, she recently celebrated another milestone: her one-year wedding anniversary. Busconi-Cambria and her wife, together since 1991, got married on a beach in Provincetown with about 20 people in attendance on May 29, 2004.

Busconi-Cambria, now 42, officially came out in 1999, but privately had let a close knit group of friends and colleagues know that she was a lesbian before that. She had never felt the need to do so on the job. Then in 1999, another officer asked her to share the job of the state’s gay liaison [Massachusetts was the first in the country to have such a position]. She was out, then. Big time.

Although Busconi-Cambria says she never had much trouble from other officers about her being a lesbian, there was an incident in the 1990s of someone harassing her based on her sexual orientation, which ended in that person being disciplined. She declined to give details.

“Coming out was the best thing I ever did,” said Busconi Cambria. “No one has power over you.”

Busconi-Cambria also promotes GOAL [she served one term as president] and said, “It’s just a great, great resource. If you’re not sure about coming out, not sure what’s out there, reach out.”

Javier Pagan

Boston Police Department’s GLBT liaison Officer Javier Pagan does a variety of jobs in his role—everything from talking to gay victims of hate crimes to showing up at community events to attending court cases. Being available and accessible is a large part of his position, which the 34-year-old has held for the last three years.

“The mistrust our community has … they think the police won’t be so responsive because they’re gay,” says Pagan. “It’s easier when there is someone to talk to, a friendly face who knows what you’ve gone through.”

Pagan, who came out at work after a year on the job, has nothing but praise for the Boston Police Department. “It was no big deal,” said Pagan. He added, “The commissioner is very gay-friendly. She’s been around helping people in the gay community,” said Pagan. “The police department is very progressive.”

Timothy Hancock

Officer Timothy Hancock, 37, credits those who came before, as clearing the way for today’s gay officers. “Gutsy moves by brave pioneers” is how he puts it. He wears the badge of one such officer: Robert Ian Schlessinger, who died from AIDS-related complications in 1995.

“Robert did it on the front page of the Boston Globe,” said Hancock. “Talk about stones.”

Schlessinger was Boston's first openly gay police officer and a founding member of GOAL/NE (His badge number, 1214, is on the organization’s logo). He was also a former Marine, as is Hancock, and Hancock looked to him as a mentor. After he died, Hancock asked his sister if he could wear the badge and she gave it to him.

“He realized the only guy he had to make happy was the guy in the mirror,” said Hancock of Schlessinger.

“After being closeted in the Marines, I knew I couldn’t go back in the closet for work,” said Hancock, a Dorchester native, who had hid his sexual orientation since his teen years. “No amount of so-called acceptance was worth living a lie.”

Hancock, who attended the police academy at the same time as Javier Pagan, says being gay was a non-issue. “No one cared,” Hancock said. “I’ve been accepted from day one.

Preston P. Horton

Detective Preston Horton, founder of GOAL/NE, says, “I thought I was the only gay cop in the universe. It was so hard to lie to everybody.” That all changed when he attended a meeting of GOAL/New York in the late ’80s. Eventually, that group encouraged him to start one in New England and he did just that in 1991. That year, Horton and one other officer marched in the Pride parade.

Horton, who years ago was afraid to be outed by a lie detector test to become a Vermont police officer [so he didn’t take it], is certainly in a different place today.

Now in a long-term relationship with a district attorney and the father of two children who live with their moms, a lesbian couple, the 37-year-old marvels at what is possible today.

“Things have changed so much,” said Horton. “I never dreamed we’d have gay marriage.”

Horton is not complacent, though, about the work that still needs to be done. He guesses that there are many officers who won’t reveal their sexual orientation on the job out of fear. Even many members of GOAL are not out.

When asked what else can be done to make it change, he replied, “It depends on politics, on people waking up and not being ignorant.”

Karoline Keith

At age 28, Detective Karoline Keith was called to be a state trooper, one of the three jobs she had listed in a 10th grade essay about what she wanted to be when she grew up. After being a physical education teacher (one of the other jobs on her list; the other is a physical therapist), she was happy to make the career switch. Eleven years later, she is still happy, and in addition to her duties as a major crime detective, the 39-year-old became the LGBT liaison for the Connecticut State Police in January of this year, one of just two in the country with an openly gay liaison [Massachusetts is the only other state with one].

For the most part, being a lesbian has not been a problem on the job for Keith. In 2000, she signed her girlfriend up for benefits [Connecticut provides domestic partnership plans]. “In my mind, it was coming out,” said Keith. “This was the first job where there was a likelihood that getting killed was a possibility. I wanted my partner to be treated as my spouse if I died on this job.”

All was fine until one day in 2003, Keith objected to a pejorative joke about gays at roll call. She wrote a letter of complaint, which eventually turned into an Internal Affairs investigation. GOAL, which Keith had never heard of (and now is a member of), became involved. From the whole affair, what resulted was a sea change at the Connecticut State Police.