Certificates of courses completed, honors received from the communities they’ve served, and recognition from their peers line their office walls. Two out of three came to the highest ranks of their profession through the military, where physical and mental toughness were the first criteria on which their male colleagues would judge them. The third turned to policing while employed at a funeral home where she learned that “the last act of compassion that can be rendered to a human being teaches us that everyone has value.” The three smile broadly when speaking about themselves and their jobs, all the while radiating the “command presence” that brought them to the top of their profession. They are the women police chiefs of Monterey County.
(NOTE: Adele Frese has retired since the writing of this article.)
The fact that a woman heads three of our twelve city police departments is highly unusual. According to a 2018 National Institute of Justice report, women constitute less than 13 percent of police officers nationwide and a much smaller proportion of leadership positions. Of the country’s 50 largest police departments, only five have a woman as their chief. Still, this is significant progress compared with decades ago when female officers faced a different environment–when there were public protests against them, men refused to ride with them, and lawsuits for discrimination were common. Although women still face predictable barriers to advancement that exist in any male-dominated profession, there has been significant improvement. All of Monterey County’s police chiefs stress two critical factors in reaching their positions: education and mentorship. Each has approached her profession with a determination to show what a woman could do.
ADELE FRESE, chief of Salinas police, is not wearing a uniform when we meet. Dressed in a handsome double-breasted houndstooth jacket, soft white wool sweater, and black pants, she is a compelling presence. On this day, she is at work, even while fighting a nasty respiratory infection. This infection is no match for Chief Frese. She is a Marine veteran and now heads a police department in a city named number 9 on the 2020 list of California “murder capitals.”
Her desire to do police work arose from the death of an 18-year-old friend who was abducted in a park. After that tragedy, she decided she would be the person to prevent crimes like that from happening ever again. Like Chief Nieto, her path was through the military. After going through rigorous Marine training, Chief Frese decided to go into police work. First, she went to an FBI recruiter, who told her to “get a Master’s degree and get some life experience” first. She completed her degree and joined the city of Corpus Cristi’s police department, where she received successive promotions. Ultimately she led 270 officers and seven police captains, as well as serving as the Narcotics and Vice Commanding Officer. She left Corpus Christi to go to the city of Greenfield to be near her father. There she served as chief until her move to Salinas in 2016, where she is trying to change the perception of Salinas as a dangerous place. “Salinas has its goodness and natural richness. We have to believe that we are not some community filled with crime.” To that end, she is working with community groups, city officials, and the media to change the perception of her city.
Adele Frese has brought new ideas to Salinas, one of them controversial but successful. To bolster the resources she needs to investigate crimes–Salinas recently had a series of bank robberies whose investigation required significantly more resources than she had available -- she partnered with Homeland Security–but only after receiving a commitment that they would not be involved in anything related to immigration. “It was a huge risk to do that here because it was seizing an opportunity that no other agency would touch. Homeland Security can double the resources we have on hand. That is a huge benefit to the city.”
Like the other two police chiefs, she has a special place in her heart for people who live in poverty. She comes from what she describes as the “humblest of backgrounds,” one of seven children in such tight quarters that every night until her sister got married, they shared a twin bed. Thus her soft spot for families who struggle. Like the other two police chiefs, she continues her education and just enrolled in Baylor’s Doctorate in Education program. The inspiration for everything she does comes from her four children and four grandchildren.
The Salinas community, at first a bit wary, is now solidly behind her. “I call things the way they are because it’s the right thing to do. I won’t flinch from the truth,” she says.
CATHY MADALONE, chief of the Pacific Grove police, succeeded another female chief, securing her position from among a field of 66 applicants. She moved here from Bergenfield, New Jersey, where she was the first woman to rise to the top of the department. She attributes her success in part to the mentoring of a forward-thinking chief, and the fact that her male peers accepted her from the beginning. She says “I never let my gender interfere with my work,” even while she admits that she probably had to work harder than her male counterparts. Even so, she was aware that women in many police forces had horror stories; some were shunned by their peers or shuttled off to divisions where it was suggested they “work with kids.” She faced none of those barriers.
A tomboy as a kid, athletic, hard-working, she wanted to be a doctor but was not enamored of formal education until much later in life when she found it indispensable. At some point, she met a funeral home director, declared her interest in the work, and was given a job. One day, when things were slow, she noticed her male coworkers filling out applications for a position on the police force. She decided to do likewise. “Everything just fell into place then,” she says, and the rest is her career history, which includes the completion of a course at the FBI National Academy.
Madalone is always on the lookout for educational opportunities, new ideas, new inspiration. At the moment, she is working toward a state certification for “Best Police Practices,” a complex and arduous process that will make Pacific Grove’s police department the first in Monterey County to receive it. There are many parts to the path to such certification, but when it is done, her officers will have learned the best practices for all situations, whether common or uncommon.
Another of her initiatives is a wellness program for staff. Everyone, she says, is aware of the high numbers of police suicides, often the result of poor work/life balance, which can lead to depression and negativity. This is a joint program that the chiefs on the Peninsula are pursuing. “It’s so important to have hobbies and friends who are not in law enforcement. Police officers can be hardened by what they see,” she says. Madalone’s hobbies include “Cycling, golf, generally anything that involves a ball.” She also gives consideration to youth in her jurisdiction. She’s planning a 6-8 week police training program to be offered to teens during the school year with boot camp in the summer.
Chief Madalone is hyper-focused on the community. She tries to attend every event in Pacific Grove. “I show up, “ she says, “I think it’s important.” How has she managed the transition from East Coast to West? “The weather is fantastic; the people are so kind. It was such a unique opportunity, and it came just at the right time. Everything in life is about timing. I love every second of this job.”
TINA NIETO, chief of the Marina Police, is a compact 5”1” with bobby pins holding back her black hair in a ponytail. When we meet she is in full regalia: a long row of stars denoting her rank, a shining shield, a gun riding on her hip. Somehow she manages to project both dance floor cheer and abundant steel at the same time. Hers is an immigrant story. Her family, Mexican on both sides, were for generations chili farmers in Hatch, New Mexico. From age eight, she grew up in West Covina when it was still relatively rural. Being a member of a family of six children where finances were ever uncertain, she felt the brush of economic insecurity, an abiding concern that would affect her career choices. During her upbringing, there was an expectation that she would grow up and get married: education was not a priority. But she was intent on getting one, so she enrolled at a community college as a marine biology major. Shortly after that, it dawned on her that while marine biology might be a great career, it was unlikely to provide the economic security that she wanted. Next, she tried psychology, a career idea that was quickly discarded after she did an internship at a state psychiatric hospital. Finally, she took a criminal justice class that was not only intriguing but also opened up to her the idea of a career in policing. She describes herself as a risk-taker, which fits in with law enforcement. With this in mind, she enrolled at Cal State Fullerton, where she got a four-year degree in eight years because she had to work full time while pursuing it. There she joined ROTC and left as a member of the Army Reserves when the program finished.
From ROTC, she went directly to the Los Angeles Police Academy. There she was one of 22 women in a class of 90, intending to go right onto the streets. She graduated number one academically in her class. It was a huge department where the competition was fierce, but she was recognized for the “command presence” that she had gained in the Army. This led to her progress through the ranks and attracted the mentoring that female chiefs say is one of the essential factors in becoming a law enforcement executive.
Equally important to her, as with Chief Madalone, are her relationships with the community she serves. Fast-tracked through LAPD, she was kept moving from one area of the city to another after gaining the trust and respect of each community she worked in. First, she was sent to one of the most impoverished areas of Los Angeles, then to the heart of Koreatown, then to the Salvadoran district. Mementos in her office -- a large, intricately decorated nameplate from the Koreans, a cascading, complimentary wall hanging from the Salvadorans, attest to the regard with which these communities viewed her. After 28 years of “moving boxes” from one place to another, she left the LAPD, intending to retire. But then came the opportunity in Marina. She fell in love with the town and now has no plan to retire. “The Marina community is wonderful - it’s growing, and the police department is growing along with it.”
Chief Nieto has close relationships with her female colleagues: they support and advise each other and have built strong alliances. She also admires the male police chiefs in the County - they have lunch together regularly. “We are people as well as professionals, and it serves us well to get to know one another as individuals. Plus, we are close because we share many resources.” She makes the same observation that her colleagues do: Women have to be twice as good as men in nearly every profession. And she holds that education is critical– all of the women chiefs she has met have been helped and carried by the fact that they have advanced degrees.
Chief Nieto is a complex blend of empathy, focused authority, and fun. Her foundational belief is that police officers are people who want to help others. “People are inherently good - they have the same values everywhere and fundamentally care about each other.” She pauses, stares intently, eyes suddenly piercingly calm. “I choose to believe that even when it is tempting to believe otherwise.”
When asked what she would most like people to know about her, she reflects for a moment, then breaks into her characteristic shining smile:
“I am an excellent karaoke singer.”
What do all these singularly capable women share in common? Several things: an empathy for those who are living in marginal circumstances, a reverence for education, a history of steady promotions within competitive departments, mentors who recognized their abilities, a focus on being an active part of the communities they serve, a belief that police work is the way to help people, not oppress them. And finally, the wish to prevent the worst of harm to innocent victims.
Susan Meister is a journalist, columnist, and community activist living in Pebble Beach. Susan’s writing was recently recognized with the 2020 Bronze Award from the Parenting Media Association.
(To read more of Susan's writing for Monterey Bay Parent, click here.)