Saying goodbye to Brian Collier

There were long lines of friends, agents, cops, and family wrapped around the funeral home in Hillsdale the other night; I waited patiently for two hours, just to say goodbye to Brian Collier, one of the finest people I have ever worked for. The murals of pictures on display outlined a life filled with success and accomplishments; each picture caught a glimpse of his personality and love for his family. Each picture made you smile. It was the same at work when he would stop by the training office for some conversation. I missed him when he left this year, but there was no doubt in my mind I would see him again.

Being a director of police in New Jersey is difficult; being a director in Edison is akin to a kamikaze mission. The odds are always stacked against “the outsider,” and chances are you are in for a real shootout. Despite all the risks, Brian picked up the fivepoint star anyway, pinned it on his chest, and strolled into Dodge City. He was the new Director in Town, and many were spoiling for a fight. With the courage one would expect from a veteran DEA agent, he busted down the door and charged in with new ideas. He went face to face with a place that didn’t want to hear them: a place where no one welcomes change and where public service was a distant second to self-service.

Now the fight was on, and he emptied both barrels, each loaded with plans for modernization and accountability. Next, he drew out the latest concept in modern policing and fired away — he struck with a biweekly management review process called Compstat and Accreditation. As a fan of “The Turn Around” by William Bratton, I had read how these concepts revolutionized modern policing in the 1990s, but now they had finally come to Edison P.D. And it’s all because of one good cop and boss, Brian Collier. As things went, the fight wasn’t over, and when the smoke cleared, he left the tactical team with new guns and armor, in each patrol car a new ballistic shield, in each school a hand-held radio with direct link to the 911 center, the firearms program was re-energized, more training was offered, new Class C uniforms permitted, and computer terminals were installed in every car (now most cops won’t work without one). All this in two years! He was a transitional leader in the classic sense and the main catalyst for progress and modernization.

At the funeral a comment was made, “He put a lot into that place … I hope he made a difference.” Calling his achievements akin to “making a difference” is clearly understating what he did — what’s even more miraculous is the timetable in which Brian made all this happen. It was nothing short of astounding. Brian Collier spent just under two years here overcoming obstacles, and now he is gone, yet his impact on the department is lasting. And the fight here continues: Anywhere you find a Dodge City you will find those who undermine order and civility from their shadowy little corners. Surrounding them are sheep that follow along, oblivious to their own demise. Nothing wrong ever got made right without a fight. As the new Edison Police Department struggles for equilibrium, Chief Brian keeps the department moving forward; as for me, I await the arrival of my book order: “Animal Farm.”

Brian, thanks for the opportunity, the effort, and the moments. The sun has set for you.
Michael Mintchwarner
Edison