National Correctional Officers Week (May 3–9) & National Police Week (May 10–16)
More than 24,000 names are etched into the National Law Enforcement Officers Memorial in Washington, D.C. Last year alone, 109 officers were killed in the line of duty. Nearly 1,000 of the names on that wall belong to correctional officers — a number most people would never guess, because their work happens out of sight.
Every May, two weeks pull all of it into focus.
Two weeks, one mission
National Correctional Officers Week (May 3–9) was established in 1984, when President Reagan issued Proclamation 5187 recognizing what he called the “courage, dedication and professionalism” of the people who maintain safety and order inside our nation’s jails and prisons. It was the first time the country formally set aside time to acknowledge a workforce that had, until then, gone largely unseen.
National Police Week (May 10–16) goes back further. President Kennedy signed it into existence in 1962, designating May 15 as National Peace Officers Memorial Day. The week surrounding that date is now marked by ceremonies across the country, including the 38th Annual Candlelight Vigil in Washington, D.C. on May 13 — where the names of officers lost in the line of duty are read aloud.
Different origins. Different weeks. Same purpose: to honor the people who put themselves between the public and harm.
The side of the badge you don’t see
When most people picture law enforcement, they picture a patrol car, a uniform on the street, a traffic stop. That visibility is part of the job — presence itself is a form of public safety.
But there’s another side of the system that runs 24 hours a day inside buildings the public rarely enters. That’s where Lexington County’s detention deputies work.
Lt. Paula Hare has spent 32 years in corrections. She doesn’t romanticize it.
“We are the unsung heroes. We are never seen, never heard until something bad happens, and then all of a sudden we’re in the spotlight — but we’re in the spotlight for a negative reason,” Hare said. “Nobody sees the hard work they put in.”
More than security
Ask what a detention deputy actually does on a shift and the list keeps growing. Yes, security. But also intake, de-escalation, medical triage, mental health response, and — more often than people realize — being a steady presence for someone on the worst day of their life.
“We have to wear multiple hats. Sometimes we have to be the inmate’s mother, sometimes their father, their counselor, their therapist,” Hare said. “Whatever they need, we have to be able to put those hats on — without overstepping our boundaries.”
A lot of the people who come through the booking doors are scared. Some are detoxing. Some have never been arrested before and don’t know what’s about to happen. Others arrive angry — and that anger usually lands on the deputy standing in front of them.
“They call us everything but a child of God,” Hare said. “They say we’re worth nothing, that they pay our salary, all that kind of stuff. But we still have to remain professional, not take it personally, and say, ‘Hey, I understand you’re angry, but this is what we need to do.'”
Twelve, thirteen, fourteen-hour shifts. A constant low-grade hum of tension. As Hare puts it, the only real difference between a deputy and the people in their custody is that the deputy gets to go home at the end of the shift.
Two sides of the same system
A police officer is usually the first point of contact in a crisis. A detention deputy picks up where that ends — booking, custody, medical, release. Neither half of the system works without the other.
One happens in public view. One happens behind a secured door. Both require the same things: judgment under pressure, the ability to stay professional when no one around you is and a willingness to show up for the next shift and do it again.
Why these weeks matter
For a lot of deputies, recognition is rare enough that it barely registers as part of the job.
“A lot of times it is kind of thankless,” Hare said. “Very seldom do we get anybody to say, ‘Great job — you have such a difficult job that we don’t know about, and we appreciate that.'”
That’s the gap these two weeks exist to close. Not just the ceremonies in Washington. Not just the cake in the break room. A moment for the rest of us to look up.
Hare’s advice for anyone who wants to show support is the simplest version possible:
“Anytime you see anybody — just tell them thank you. Just tell them you appreciate what they do,” Hare said. “I promise you, it’ll go a long way.”
One community, one purpose
Public safety in Lexington County isn’t one job. It’s deputies on the road, deputies in the detention center, dispatchers, investigators, administrative staff — all of it stacked together to keep a community of more than 300,000 people safe.
Some wear the badge in plain view. Others serve behind secured doors.
All of them deserve to be seen.
Interested in joining the team behind the badge? Learn more about careers with the Lexington County Sheriff’s Department at joinlcsd.com.