Undercover anguish
Richard Kerbaj
July 25, 2005
WHEN Tim Rochford became an undercover agent with the NSW Police in 1986, he was expected to infiltrate drug organisations, develop relationships with criminals, disassociate from police and, if necessary, take drugs to preserve his assumed identity.

Rochford knew that remaining unidentified was his insurance policy for staying alive. What he didn't know was how undercover work was going to affect his mental and physical health.

Rochford came to realise that each undercover operation was accompanied by a degree of mental anguish. But he interpreted any work-related flashbacks and bouts of anxiety as a weakness. "Nobody encouraged me to talk about them, so I thought that I was the weak one," says Rochford, 50, who resigned from the police force in 1992 with post-traumatic stress disorder.

Rochford was not alone. There were 264 medical discharges from the force in 2000, 147 for psychological problems.

Stacy (one of her undercover names), who worked for the NSW Drug Enforcement Agency and other bureaus from 1986 to 1999 pursuing crime figures and heroin dealers, was medically discharged in 2001. Stacy says her two-week course in undercover policing in Puckapunyal, Victoria, in 1988 included a component on drug-taking. "Part of that course was smoking marijuana and hash," she says. Now 41, Stacy suffered sleepless nights and anxiety attacks culminating in an emotional breakdown in the late 1990s.


Rochford and Stacy are two of eight known former undercover officers suing the NSW police department for failing to reveal in the '80s and '90s the connection between covert policing and psychological and drug-related illnesses and for failing to provide them with ongoing psychological assessment and support. NSW Police confirms "there are currently eight plaintiffs' actions on foot where some part of the claim relates to some undercover activity". It acknowledges, without providing figures, that some former undercover agents have been medically discharged and receive "hurt on duty" pensions. It also says that ongoing psychometric assessments - which measure mental states and processes - for undercover officers have been in place since 1988.

Inspector Mark Jones, head of NSW's Special Forces Undercover Unit, says he's "not really in a position to comment" on what health factors (psychological or otherwise) were taken into account when hurt-on-duty discharges were issued. Asked if undercover operatives were encouraged to take drugs, Jones says: "We're not going to say it's not true or it is true. Our answer to that is, simply for operational and safety reasons, police will not comment."

Five former undercover officers - Rochford, Stacy, Andrew Curran, Paul and Charlie - who've been interviewed by The Australian confirm they were encouraged to take recreational drugs on the job if they felt compelled, to bolster the credibility of their assumed identities and infiltrate criminal domains. However, they say they were told to deny institutional encouragement if asked about it in court. "I did take cocaine and speed in the course of my work," Rochford says. "I felt compelled and felt that it was necessary to preserve my cover and indeed my safety."

Charlie, a former undercover operative who predominantly infiltrated bikie gangs from 1990 to 1994, says turning down drugs from a dealer would raise suspicion. "If you walk into a bikie's house and there's a few having lines of [speed] and ... they ask you to have a bit, there's no way you're saying: 'No, mate,"' he says. "It'll put you in danger."

After living with the Rebel motorcycle gang, Charlie - the name he often used during covert operations - became addicted to amphetamines, namely speed. He voluntarily checked into the police welfare branch. "I was given no counselling in regards to the drugs situation; [they] just gave me whale music to relax to," he says. "At the time I just laughed it off and went back to doing what I was doing."

Charlie's anxiety and drug problem continued for three years, culminating in a nervous breakdown and suicidal tendencies. "When the welfare branch turned up at my doorstep, I told them I was still experiencing drug-related problems," Charlie says. "The sergeant in the welfare branch said: 'We're not going to mention anything about your drugs [on your medical record], we'll just get you back on track."' In 1999, Charlie received a hurt-on-duty discharge pension for psychological conditions including adjustment disorder, depression and post-traumatic stress disorder. After the department acknowledged his psychological problems, he took legal action against it. Now 43, his court case starts in August.

Another former undercover agent, Paul, 38, who worked with the NSW drug squad from 1990 to 1996, says he was never given any substantial education and advice on preventing work-related mental health problems or made aware of how drugs could make them worse. He says the 11-day covert operations course he did predominantly focused on surveillance and potential physical harm.

"There was a small component dealing with stress, it was a joke," Paul says. "You were given a piece of paper that outlined 20 ways of dealing with stress and it had wonderful motherhood statements like: 'If you have something really stressful to do during your day, try and do it in the morning so the restof your day will be stress free."'

Assistant NSW Police Commissioner Mark Goodwin initially downplays the risk and value of undercover work. "There's a range of investigative options and techniques that police use; I suppose it's a bit like a carpenter and a toolbox," says Goodwin, a former undercover supervisor in the '90s. "An undercover operative is a mere tool in the toolbox for the detective."

Goodwin later admits that the "clear-up of crime and organised crime in NSW and across the nation actually depends on it [undercover work]".

The transition from mainstream to undercover policing is voluntary. Although there's no pay rise, it offers cachet and an adventure ride into the lives of criminals. For every undercover officer wanting to relinquish duties, there are at least 20 eager to fill their spot, Paul says.

"I've tried everything known to mankind except heroin and nothing comes close to the raw adrenalin you get from [undercover work]," he says.

Rochford, who served six years full time and was involved in about 50 covert operations, says unlike mainstream police officers who often work in pairs, undercover cops work alone and don't have access to support or backup.

Since 2000, there has been a sharper focus on mental health within the police force, says NSW Police Health Services director Gary Jackal. An employee assistance program was established about four years ago and has more than 90 counsellors statewide providing free and independent advice on mental health issues. It has been followed by a peer support scheme staffed by 1000 specially trained officers, says Jackal.

Well Check, an independently run NSW police-funded program that will offer mandatory quarterly psychological assessments to officers in high-risk trauma areas such as forensics, homicide and undercover work, will be launched in the near future, says Jackal.

But Rochford says the NSW force "cannot say that [current] improvements are good when they haven't acknowledged what was bad". He wants the police service to admit its former health management flaws, yet he's certain "institutional denial" will continue to prevent a floodgate of litigation. "They need to communicate with us, listen to us," Rochford says. "Because if they don't listen they won't learn what the damage is."

Richard Kerbaj is a Melbourne-based freelance journalist.