A man used to keeping an eye on people is now staring at his rearview mirror on a peaceful residential street in Hutchinson, Kansas.
Something doesn’t feel right, according to Dick Heitschmidt, the former police chief of Hutchinson who served the community for decades. And he has chosen not to ignore a nagging feeling of unease, in contrast to many others who do.
| Name | Dick Heitschmidt |
|---|---|
| Role | Former Police Chief of Hutchinson, Kansas |
| Years in Service | Served for over 30 years, retired in 2018 |
| Current Status | Retired; privately reporting suspicious activity |
| Reported Concern | Claims consistent surveillance activity |
| Known Traits | Measured, methodical, not prone to paranoia |
| Broader Implication | Raises questions about post-retirement risks |
| External Reference | www.hutchnews.com |
He has observed some patterns recurring remarkably frequently for the past few weeks. On his morning walks, he noticed a dark SUV parked two blocks away. At strange hours, the same silver sedan is idling across from the coffee shop. glimpses of people in rearview mirrors that are frequent enough to cause one to stop.
This could be considered paranoia by a civilian. It feels different to a retired officer with over 30 years of investigative experience—more like a recognizable echo of targeted surveillance cases from the past.
Heitschmidt has adopted a subdued analytical stance instead of responding with alarm. He has recorded locations, timestamps, and license plate photos in a log. He avoids speculating. He watches.
He is remarkably calm and does not characterize himself as scared. He employs the term “aware.” When spoken by someone who has been trained to foresee escalation long before it manifests itself, that word carries a different weight when delivered without urgency.
His deliberate actions have a history. Heitschmidt managed investigations into violent crime, gang activity, and drug trafficking for many years. These were not hypothetical situations. They included actual individuals, actual dangers, and sometimes actual reprisals.
“Retirement sometimes doesn’t erase history—it just shifts the frame,” a former department colleague told me.
There are no flashing headlines or official police reports. Heitschmidt has not made any public statements or made any direct accusations. However, he has communicated his concern to a small group of former coworkers through subtle, purposeful action—people he trusts to look past superficial explanations.
The restraint he exhibits is what makes his argument so strong. He isn’t making snap judgments. Instead, he is mapping data, measuring risk in secret, and using investigative tools that he previously taught others.
He was walking his golden retriever one afternoon when he noticed the same car parked close to the high school for the third consecutive day. He stopped, turned, and met the driver’s gaze. Not a move. Just a long enough look to make his heart race. When I questioned him later about that incident, he said something that really resonated with me.
“I don’t look for trouble. However, I also don’t walk by it.
There was a subtle assurance in that statement—a recognition of responsibility that doesn’t go away with retirement.
These circumstances are not uncommon for retired law enforcement personnel. Officers sometimes leave behind a badge, but not always the responsibility that comes with the job. Veterans have told me stories over the years about feeling “shadowed” long after a case was closed. In certain instances, those suspicions vanished without any harm. They didn’t in other cases.
Heitschmidt is exhibiting a remarkably successful approach to personal risk by refusing to escalate too soon. He’s not panicking; he’s monitoring. Instead of making accusations, he is gathering evidence. His strategy is based on training rather than fear.
He has significantly improved his ability to control his own instincts through years of de-escalating others.
There is more to this story than just one man being pursued. It concerns what occurs when a person’s sense of safety is shaped by decades of public service even after they have returned to their private life.
It also concerns the resources accessible—or inaccessible—to those who suspect they are being watched but have not yet proven it.
Discussions about post-retirement vigilance and officer mental health have become more prevalent in recent years. It can be startling to return to civilian life. It is difficult for the constant buzz of threat awareness to subside. In fact, for some people, the absence of structure makes it louder.
Heitschmidt is not terrified. He’s using discipline to deal with uncertainty. And that distinction is important.
He has been able to maintain composure while planning for a variety of scenarios by drawing on his life experience. His method is extremely effective and well-founded, regardless of whether this is a serious situation or merely a strange set of coincidences.
He’s not looking for sympathy or attention. All he wants is the truth to be revealed to him by the facts.
He no longer has the police scanner on his hip. His name is no longer used by the department. However, the intuition? Those are still there—sophisticated, vigilant, and especially keen when quiet becomes too much.
Choosing documentation over confrontation and remaining composed in the face of intimidation have a certain strength. Even though he no longer dons the uniform, he is still keeping an eye on things, listening to them, and prepared to take action if needed.
Sometimes waiting patiently is a more potent indicator of experience than how quickly you react.
