Brian Patrick Klak spent 21 years inside corrections, working housing operations, booking and release, classification, mental health operations, restrictive housing, training, policy development and supervision. His new book, “The Weight We Carry: A Correctional Professional’s Guide to Health, Stress, Leadership, Work Life Balance, Money, Retirement, and Leaving the Job Better Than You Found It,” is written specifically for the people who do this work. It covers cumulative stress, trauma, hypervigilance, mandatory overtime, family life, ethics, financial preparation, retirement, and mentorship, with the central goal of serving with strength and still recognizing yourself when you walk out the gate.
In this excerpt, Klak looks at the long-standing concept of “Downing the Duck,” how a small exception can turn into serious misconduct, and why staying professional doesn’t mean going cold.
Downing the duck: How small boundary violations become big problems
The compromise that ends a career rarely begins with the biggest request. It often begins with the smallest exception.
One of the oldest lessons in corrections is the concept often called “Downing the Duck.” Bud Allen and Diana Bosta used the term in “Games Criminals Play” to describe a gradual process in which a correctional employee is observed, tested, groomed, compromised, and eventually manipulated. Later professional literature on boundaries in corrections has continued to discuss the same danger: a special relationship can slowly move an employee away from policy, professional judgment, and the team (Allen & Bosta, 1981; Cooke et al., 2019).
The important word is gradual. Most employees do not walk into a correctional facility intending to smuggle contraband, falsify a report, pass unauthorized information, or enter an inappropriate relationship. The slide can begin with something that feels harmless: an extra favor, a personal conversation that goes too far, or a rule bent “just this once.” It may continue with a message passed for someone, a promise not to tell a supervisor, or a request handled outside the normal process.
Residents live in an environment where observation is constant. They may learn which officer wants to be liked, which employee is frustrated with management, who talks openly about money or relationships, who enjoys being praised, who dislikes confrontation, and who is willing to make exceptions. That does not mean every resident is manipulating staff. It means correctional professionals must understand that personal information, inconsistency, ego, sympathy, anger, loneliness, and a desire to help can all become vulnerabilities when professional boundaries are weak.
How the Process Can Develop
The pattern is not identical in every case, but it often follows a recognizable progression: observation, rapport, testing, a small exception, normalization of the exception, secrecy, leverage, and escalation. The first request may be intentionally minor because the purpose is not always the favor itself. The purpose may be to learn whether the employee will cross a line and whether that crossing can later be used as pressure.
Once an employee has done something they know they should not have done, shame can become part of the trap. The employee may think, “If I tell my supervisor, I will get in trouble.” That fear can make the next bad decision easier. Concealment creates leverage. The resident may not need to threaten the employee directly; the employee’s own fear of exposure can begin doing the work.
This is why early reporting matters. If you realize you have crossed a small boundary, stop the behavior, document or report it through the proper chain, and ask for guidance before the problem grows. A healthy correctional culture should make it easier for staff to disclose a developing boundary problem early than to hide it until it becomes misconduct, contraband, corruption, or a criminal case.
Professional Does Not Mean Cold
There is another mistake we have to avoid. Training on manipulation should not turn officers into people who believe every respectful conversation is a con. We need staff who can communicate, listen, de-escalate, recognize changes in behavior, and build legitimate professional rapport. Dynamic security depends in part on knowing the people and environment you supervise. The answer is not to become cruel or emotionally shut down. The answer is to be respectful without becoming personally entangled.
After twenty-one years in corrections, I believe you can care about people and still maintain hard professional boundaries. You can treat a resident with dignity without becoming their friend. You can listen without sharing your private life. You can help without creating unauthorized favors. You can be compassionate without becoming obligated. You can explain a decision without negotiating away policy. That balance is professionalism.
The Boundary Test
- Would I be comfortable if my supervisor watched or read this entire interaction?
- Am I doing something for this resident that I would not do for another resident in the same circumstances?
- Have I shared personal information that has nothing to do with my professional role?
- Has anyone asked me to keep a favor, conversation, message, or exception secret?
- Am I bending a rule because I want approval, sympathy, attention, or relief from conflict?
- If this request is legitimate, can it be handled through the normal documented process?
Supervisors must teach this without humiliation. New staff especially need examples, scenario training, and permission to ask questions before a questionable interaction becomes a disciplinary investigation. Experienced staff need the same reminder because tenure does not create immunity from manipulation. In fact, overconfidence can become its own vulnerability.
The lesson of “Downing the Duck” is not that residents are the enemy. The lesson is that boundaries protect everyone. They protect the officer’s career, the resident from favoritism and exploitation, coworkers from compromised security, and the institution from corruption. Respect and vigilance belong together.