by Jennifer Oladipo
This seems like the last place anybody would want to be. In the lobby of the Greenville County Law Enforcement Center a woman with matted blond hair and smeared makeup sits crying quietly, clutching a stack of documents to her chest. It’s already afternoon, but it’s clear this woman had a rough night. Although a couple standing several feet away at the sheriff’s window makes a scene, complaining loudly about an alleged stalker, it’s hard not to look at the blonde and wonder what has stained her hands red in some spots, and even streaked her hair. Between sobs she says, “I’m so nervous. This is the first time I’ve been here.”
After the lobby, laughter filling the area upstairs where Chief Terri Wilfong’s office is located seems incongruous. Wilfong wraps up the banter with colleagues and walks out of a back room with a laugh still on her lips. She pauses to trade barbs with her assistant and another woman, both shorter than Wilfong, and then it’s off to her office. She doesn’t bother to close the two doors as she settles down for a chat.
Wilfong’s ease isn’t the first thing you’d expect considering her position. She was the boss when the Greenville Police Department (GPD) dealt with the murder of a young child; a fatal encounter between a citizen and an officer; and a reorganization of the department – all in less than a year. Her new role as chief meant changes for the department and for herself.
Wilfong had served as deputy police chief over a force of more than 1,400 officers in Louisville, Ky., before retiring in 2006. Now she oversees about 200. After 28 years of policing at state and city levels, Wilfong says she is exactly where she’s always wanted to be. Gender is a non-issue for her, and she says that seems true of everyone she’s encountered in Greenville. The trend toward female police officers has seen a rapid increase in the past few years. Four major cities recently hired female chiefs for the first time, and two months after Wilfong took her post in Greenville, the first female chief was sworn into office in Washington, D.C. A few smaller South Carolina towns also have had female chiefs.
Still, Wilfong was not immune to the rancor that was almost inevitable for a woman replacing a man who held the powerful post for 37 years. Even women commented in online forums about Wilfong doing “a man’s job,” while others in the community bristled about her being an outsider. Wilfong admits that stereotypes about the South gave her pause before applying but says she remedied that with a trip to Greenville. Walking around the city and talking to strangers, she found all were friendly enough to make her want to move here, and many were from elsewhere themselves. She has since felt “welcomed with open arms” – not a single gender-related conflict or Yankee-related slur to report.
It’s a dramatically different experience from her early days as an officer, says Wilfong. “My first day on the job was like, ‘You’re a woman, and I don’t want you here, and I’m going to tell you so.’” She was taken aback by such blatant hostility but saw it as a challenge. “I’m the kind of person that if you tell me I can’t do something, that just makes me want to do it even more.”
That attitude shows even as she occasionally leans back in her chair, discussing the ins and outs of her job. Her manner is not aggressive, but she remains assertive throughout the conversation. When the gender issue comes up, she wraps up with a succinct response she’s likely used many times before. “I think my record speaks for itself,” she says.
But she is not unconcerned with the gender balance on Greenville’s force. “I’d like to see us have more women,” she says. “It’s (a matter of) getting qualified, and we’ll get there.” She says part of the problem is that the demanding schedule can be difficult during childbearing years.
Wilfong had two children while serving as an officer, a son and daughter now 27 and 17, respectively. She sought the Greenville position knowing she would have to leave her 11-year-old stepdaughter and husband, Ryan Wilfong, in Kentucky for some time. Because of their daughter’s schooling and Ryan’s job – commander of a hostage negotiation team with Louisville Metro Police – they won’t be able to join her until later this year. In the meantime they come and visit about once a month.
Ryan says he’s proud of his wife, and talks fondly of her easy-but-firm comportment. “Personally, I think she is a very caring and compassionate person [who] cares about the people she works with and the people where she lives,” he says. He describes her as a person of faith, and a mother highly involved in her children’s sports activities, which she believes will help them learn social skills, maturity, responsibility and accountability.
“Now professionally, she’s a very demanding person. She’s definitely a type-A personality. She’s a workaholic,” he says, an attitude that has manifested significant changes for the GPD.
Wilfong has reorganized the department, divided the city into two districts, added the rank of major and improved turn-around time for internal affairs cases. She says the new structure lends to more efficient operations and makes it easier to know who is in charge when there’s a problem and whose responsibility it is to fix it. To help draw young people to the force, a challenge departments face throughout the country, Wilfong initiated the Explorer program for people ages 14 to 20, which is intended help them better understand law enforcement and also serve as a career launcher within the department. She also added five chaplains, who serve the community as they ride around with officers on duty, but are also available when the officers themselves need an ear. She’s pleased with the changes and says people always rise to new levels when leaders raise the bar. Apparently, she’s prone to raising it high.
“I think she’s naturally that way,” says her husband. “I don’t think it has anything to do with her gender or being in law enforcement, which is a traditionally male dominated field. I think it’s just her work ethic. She has a very strong work ethic, and she wants to get the job done.”
It’s a job she knows well after nearly three decades and says the basics are the same no matter the place, no matter the size. Troy Riggs, who rode the same beat as Wilfong and worked directly for her in Louisville says her experience makes her a good fit for this city. Large departments have different issues, but they also have several experts and specialists. In Greenville, one has to be well-versed in several of facets of police work. Now major chief of staff at the Louisville Metro Police Department, Riggs says Wilfong spent hours using her expertise to help him prepare for the sergeant promotional test.
“She’s pretty much seen every part of policing there is from the business end to working on the street. So that serves her very well in Greenville and serves the community as well.”
Her ease in the position also comes partly from belonging to a law enforcement family, following in her father’s and grandfather’s footsteps. “I’m a third generation, and my son is the fourth, so you can basically say it’s in our blood.”
“This is not a job, it’s a career,” says Wilfong. “This is who you are, and this is what you are.” Law enforcement does not take breaks on holidays or weekends. When big tragedies impact the community, the police go to work while others can retreat to the comfort of friends and family. Riggs says Wilfong often tried to lighten up tense situations with the kinds of jokes that still have her laughing with coworkers in Greenville today. She would quickly organize a small party if a co-worker’s birthday had been missed during a busy time, and that empathy extends outside the walls of the police station.
“Sometimes when officers come on in the police department they focus on law enforcement, but she focused on the fears people had,” says Riggs. “(Wilfong) understood that a real goal about fighting crime was fighting the fear of crime.”
Still, Wilfong is always on duty in a way. She recalls an evening spent collecting money for the Rotary Club at Paris Mountain when she casually warned a visitor that his burnt-out headlight could result in a citation. Only when her companions began laughing did she catch her slip into cop mode, but she doesn’t seem too bothered by the incident or others like it. As she said, law enforcement is who she is, and this first year as Greenville’s chief realizes a lifelong aspiration.
“This was my goal, and I’ve achieved
it. I really love being here.”
After spending part of the afternoon with Wilfong, the Law Enforcement Center lobby looks a little different on the way out. Her frank and optimistic attitude are a bit contagious. Different people populate the lobby now, looking happier than those who were here earlier. The place seems less dismal, the talk less confrontational. It’s a reminder of the changes, subtle and otherwise, that tend to come with a new
perspective. GM
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