Editor’s note: As agencies nationwide work to improve their response to crisis calls, this series looks at co-responder models showing the clearest results. We previously looked at what most police leaders get wrong about co-responder programs. Here we look at the reasons why programs may fail and strategies to ensure success.
Many co-responder programs fail. Not because the idea is bad, but because the design is. Across the country, the same mistakes repeat, and the results look the same. Confusion. Turnover. Families left without real support.
Too many chiefs launch programs on grant cycles, rotate officers in from patrol, and split command with outside agencies. On paper, it looks like progress. In practice, it creates uncertainty and burnout.
That is not a unit. That is a patchwork. And patchwork fails.
Here are the most common design flaws:
- No dedicated officers. When patrol is pulled in randomly, families never see the same faces twice. Trust never builds.
- Contracted command. If the unit answers to multiple leaders, priorities drift. A single ranking officer must own it.
- Short-term funding. Programs tied to grants collapse when the dollars dry up. What families see is turnover, not continuity.
- No data trail. Chiefs who cannot show results lose leverage. If you cannot measure what is happening, you cannot defend it in a budget meeting.
- Poor officer selection. Crisis work requires patience, steadiness, and judgment under pressure. Assigning whoever is available turns the unit into a dumping ground instead of a specialty team.
| RELATED: What most police leaders get wrong about co-responder programs
What successful co-responder programs measure
Here is what success looks like.
Strong programs track the right data. They track diversions from emergency rooms and jails because those are the costliest and least effective places for mental health crises. They track how many people they see, how many follow-ups they complete, and how many individuals are affected by each incident. One crisis call often reaches parents, children, caregivers, neighbors, or entire families. The data shows the full impact.
They also track officer time saved. This is one of the strongest operational metrics a chief can use. Departments start by calculating their own baseline, which is the average amount of time an officer spends on a mental health-related call without co-response support. Once measured, that number often surprises leadership.
Then departments track what happens when a co-responder takes the lead. In some agencies, officer time drops from long on-scene averages, such as 60 minutes, to 12 minutes. In other cases, patrol does not have to remain on scene at all because the co-responder jumps the call. The calculation excludes the time spent by the co-responder unit supervisor. The goal is to show how much officer time is returned to patrol.
That time matters. It increases patrol availability, improves response capacity, and allows officers to do the work only law enforcement can do. Tracking both co-responder workload and officer time saved shows the full operational value of the program.
That tracking proves results. It also proves savings. In Missouri, a psychiatric emergency room admission averages $16,000. A jail booking tied to a mental health crisis averages $4,000. Every diversion reduces those costs. Each department has its own numbers, but the math works the same everywhere. When leaders know their local or state averages, they can calculate what each avoided ER visit or jail booking actually saves. Those savings add up, but they only appear when the program is built to last.
Why leadership and structure matter
Leadership shapes survival.
Command turnover will happen. When ranking officers are not invested, programs slide to the margins. Units lose visibility. Staffing thins. Momentum fades. When leaders protect the work, the unit stays visible, funded, and stable.
Some leaders resist integrating mental health response because it threatens familiar command structures and exposes gaps in how departments have handled these calls for decades. When leadership is not invested, programs are weakened through administrative decisions that appear procedural rather than personal. Units lose staffing. Calls get reassigned. Schedules shift. A co-responder program survives when leadership supports it in practice, not only in meetings.
Structure sends the message.
Uniform and appearance decisions matter. Successful units match the visual culture of the department. Many programs use black shirts and brown or khaki pants with protective vests for safety and visibility. This reduces hesitation from officers and increases safety during unpredictable calls. Critics who argue that co-responders should avoid looking similar to law enforcement often misunderstand police culture and operational risk. Programs designed only by mental health agencies miss these realities. The strongest models emerge from collaboration between state mental health systems and law enforcement leaders who understand the street.
Titles matter too. When departments label co-responders as clinicians, social workers, or psychologists, they shape expectations that do not match the work. Co-response is mental health first response. It is triage. De-escalation. Placement into the next best level of care. Clear terms such as mental health first responder or behavioral health first responder describe the mission accurately. Clear titles create clear roles.
Successful programs are flexible because every community has different gaps. Some need rapid triage and de-escalation. Some need help maneuvering broken service systems. Some need steady follow-up so families are not left on their own. That flexibility is not extra. It is the job. Programs that cannot adapt to local needs fail fast.
Here is the part most leaders miss. Co-response lives at the intersection of two cultures. Mental health agencies often design policies that do not match police reality. Law enforcement often assumes mental health work does not belong in policing at all, or tries to force it into a patrol model where it cannot succeed. Both approaches break programs.
The strongest units are built through collaboration. Mental health and law enforcement shape the model together, in real time, based on what actually happens in the field. That is how a program reflects its community, not someone else’s theory of what should work.
Internal experience matters. Co-response is not office work. It is field work. It is fast, unpredictable, and dependent on judgment calls that never appear in policy binders. It requires responders who can move between police strategy and mental health triage, who know when a plan is safe to execute, and who understand why something that works in a clinic fails on a street corner.
This is also where programs are quietly undermined. When leadership isolates a co-responder unit, parks it out of sight, or keeps it away from platoons, the message is clear. The work does not matter. Programs pushed to the margins lose visibility, lose officer buy-in, and lose impact. Officers stop referring calls. Staffing erodes. Momentum fades. Leaders who believe mental health response does not belong in policing often communicate it through structure rather than words.
Morale follows design. Dedicated officers build trust with co-responders. They know who they are working with, and they know calls will be resolved instead of recycled. That is how departments stop burning hours in emergency rooms. That is how officers stay engaged rather than resentful.
Built for endurance, not optics
Programs fail when they are built for optics. Programs succeed when they are built for endurance.
The fix is straightforward. Build with permanence in mind. Fund the program in the long-term budget. Put ranking officers in charge. Select the right staff. Measure what matters.
If you want a program that works, design it like it matters. Anything less is a patchwork, not a solution.
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