It started young for Rick Felici. He was eight when a family member went missing from their rural New York home. Felici’s adult relatives were at a loss what to do. Then a state trooper walked into the house.

“He was calm. Confident. He assessed the scene, the people, the problem. He took control,” Felici said.

Felici never forgot that feeling, that relief, knowing a professional was in charge. As a high schooler, he spent a day job-shadowing the local police chief. That day — and the chief’s genuine interest in Felici’s school progress — deepened his admiration for law enforcement.

Forty-plus years and a continent away from his teens, Felici is our twice-elected Island County sheriff. He still looks to those early role models as inspiration.

“I admired those men for their consistency, their ability to focus, to get things fixed.” In those glimpses behind the badge, Felici saw their humanity too. He saw people, neighbors, citizens just like himself. And he’s quick to appreciate those same qualities in the deputies who serve Island County.

“We try to treat citizens the way we’d like to be treated,” he says. “We preserve people’s dignity. That sticks with people. They remember how we treated them.”

A man told Felici recently, “You stopped me for driving like an idiot, when I was a teenager.” To Felici’s surprise, the man was grateful. Felici, a deputy at the time, had simply treated the teen with respect rather than yelling and talking down to him.

Felici is grateful, too, for broad community support behind law enforcement in Island County.

“Our deputies do good work,” he says. He credits a strong selection process, and a focus on self control and accountability. And “we spend a lot of time on wellness. We encourage balance, in their physical and emotional health.”

That leads to excellence on the street, interacting with citizens.

“We can make choices in how we react in a situation. Every one of us in uniform is a leader, whether we know it or not. We hire good people.”

The department doesn’t get a lot of complaints, and Felici does his best to face issues right away. “We contact the person ASAP. It’s OK if they’re amped up; I let them vent, then we can talk. I hold us accountable. We owe it to the community to listen, respect, and reply.”

The discussion turns to a place it shouldn’t need to go: politics. Felici has been elected twice with an R by his name, both times against a fellow Republican. But he doesn’t see the connection between his work and a party affiliation. During campaigns he’s been asked ideological questions that have nothing to do with law enforcement. He has refused to address them.

Regardless of party or ideology, Felici says, “We all want the same thing.” We want a safe community, free from crime, with a Sheriff’s Office we can trust. A political party shouldn’t determine what that means, when the Sheriff serves everyone.

While “I’m not left or right,” Felici acknowledges the increased polarization around us. He mentions the persistent anger on social media, and the trend of news media turning into entertainment outlets as they compete for viewers and followers.

Is the incessant political angst frustrating for a guy who’s just trying to keep our island safe? Felici pauses, considering his answer.

“No… No, it’s not frustrating. It would be, if I let it get to me. But it’s really just noise.”

On the plus side, Felici appreciates that our local politicians take law enforcement policy seriously. He mentioned District 10 legislators by name, even noting one who called Felici “from the floor of the legislature at 9 at night” to seek the sheriff’s advice on a measure.

Politics and public safety converged this spring, as anti-Trump rallies popped up around the island. When Felici sat down with me on Friday, April 18, he said the protests hadn’t presented any special challenges… yet.

The next day, demonstrators in Bayview heard gunshots. Felici addressed the incident immediately, stating in an email to a citizen that the shooter was reckless, but likely within his rights. Felici confirmed that deputies must protect the constitutional rights of all, and closed the message with a confession: “It saddens me that our culture has devolved to its current state.”

As of this writing, the county prosecutor has determined that no laws were broken and no charges will be filed.

While polarizing conflict brews around us, Felici sees an urgent issue facing our community. He’s counting on us to rally around it as it affects our common good. Island County needs a new jail.

Felici sees the evidence daily. The 53-year-old building’s deteriorating infrastructure — like utilities built directly into concrete walls and impossible to access when they fail — has gotten most of the press, but it goes beyond that.

“It’s just too small. Look at the county’s growth in 50 years.” Our census has quadrupled since the jail was built in 1972. Jail population has changed too, with more offenses rooted in drug and mental issues. This demands more program space, which isn’t available.

A crowded jail doesn’t translate, in the average citizen’s mind, into a public safety issue. But lack of space may keep deputies from apprehending people with active arrest warrants if there’s no place to put them. And that has clear potential to impact our safety.

Inmates are also less safe. In tighter quarters, odds of violence escalate dramatically; accused offenders are more able to conspire before trial; disease spreads more easily; and lack of space hampers jail staff’s ability to separate inmates by gender.

Felici’s proactive, engaging leadership style bodes well for the future of the jail and for the citizens of Island County. Asked what makes a good leader, he leans into goals he has for himself. And it feels like he goes back forty years to the qualities he first saw in those officers he admired.

“Leaders have to know what they’re talking about,” he says. “They need to take the time to develop legitimate knowledge.” He sees civility and pragmatism going hand in hand, as our human nature tends to “make decisions emotionally. We need to take a breath, to consider facts and circumstances.” And leaders need to “do the work.” Beyond just putting in the time, they need to engage with the public, be visible, and listen.

For examples, Sheriff Felici looks to Washington’s 38 other counties and sees excellent law enforcement leadership everywhere. He shrugs at the mention of occasional brash, headline-grabbing statements from some of his fellow sheriffs.

“It’s just political saber-rattling,” he says with a grin. Rick Felici doesn’t make time for that. He has a county to serve.

William Walker’s monthly “Take a Breath” column seeks paths to unity on Whidbey Island in polarized times. Walker lives near Oak Harbor and is an amateur author of four unpublished novels, hundreds of poems, and a stage play. He blogs occasionally at www.playininthedirt.com.