WASILLA -- Rick Roberts displays a number of hats and helmets in his study, military memorabilia he's collected here and there. And behind his desk, somewhat out of place among the polished historical artifacts, is a beat-up old canvas cap with a nonstandard Alaska State Troopers logo.
Of all the swords and model tanks on display, it's this hat his sons fight over. In nearly 30 years as a trooper, Roberts has worn that hat to every call he went to where the suspect was armed. It's his gunfight hat. But it's not his lucky gunfight hat. Roberts doesn't believe in luck, just work.
"And by work I mean hard work," Roberts said.
Roberts retired Dec. 31 at the rank of lieutenant and as deputy Palmer detachment commander and post supervisor of the Mat-Su West office.
He said it's not necessarily a happy time for him. He wanted to do more as a trooper. But his mother's health was deteriorating and he couldn't care for her and do his job at the same time.
Roberts first tried to sign up for the troopers at age 20, when he worked as a carpenter in Big Lake. Told he was too young, he reapplied a year later and spent 2 1/2 years taking tests and re-applying before entering the academy in 1978.
He was still a bit naive, he said.
"I just didn't understand that, generally speaking, it's not a happy time when people call the police," Roberts said.
It didn't take long for those illusions to disappear. Working the night shift at his first posting in Anchorage, at times he'd get off and go straight to church, in uniform.
"I've got a guy's boot print on my chest from a fight three hours ago, and I'm listening to the three elderly ladies talking about how grand and glorious and wonderful the world is. And I'm having a difficult time connecting with their reality," Roberts said.
But he adjusted. After Anchorage, he and his family moved to Ketchikan. They were "supremely happy" there, Roberts said, despite the rainy climate.
But it wasn't until he left for Bethel eight years later that Roberts found his calling.
"There seem to be two type of troopers, in my mind. There's the urban trooper, the guy who really, really enjoys the asphalt, the road system, traffic, that sort of thing. And then there's the Bush trooper," Roberts said. "I was a Bush trooper."
Roberts loved Bethel. Which isn't to say the work wasn't sometimes challenging; at least twice in 10 years there, he almost died.
Snowmachining across a bay, he got caught in a whiteout that snuck up quickly around a mountain and badly froze half his face. Then, on the way back, he fell through the ice.
Soaking wet, with temperatures at 35 below, he made the mistake of trying for five minutes to save the borrowed snowmachine. He barely made it out alive.
"The lady at the little grocery store, at the little store, screamed when I walked in the door because I was that scary looking. She got on the radio and called villagers to come strip my clothes off of me and get me warm clothes and help me live," Roberts said.
Then there was the night he spent on a slope in the Kilbuck Mountains. After two days of searching, he and another trooper ascended 2,000 feet to the site of a plane crash.
"Just when we got there and confirmed that the occupants were deceased, freezing rain came and made our helicopter leave," Roberts said.
They sheltered in the wreckage, filling in chinks with newspaper to try and keep out the wind. The storm buffeted the broken plane, and they were sure the wreckage would be blown from the slope.
"We were pretty sure we were going to die. We talked all night long to each other about the things that we would do different, you know, if we had a chance. Things that were important to us," Roberts said.
There were happier times as well.
In Bethel, Roberts coached the wrestling team and taught a judo class that grew to 125 students. He strove, Roberts said, to impart the ideals he learned as a teenager from old cowboys with whom he worked in southern Washington. Those ideals formed the basis of his motive for joining law enforcement.
"A man does what's right even when it's not convenient. And especially, I guess, when it's not convenient," Roberts said. It's the thread that runs through him, he said.
Roberts made sergeant and became supervisor for Bethel and its surrounding villages.
After Bethel, Roberts returned to Anchorage briefly before Randy Crawford, then a major, asked him to go to Palmer.
"He says he has 20 some-odd troopers, almost all of them with less than two years of service," Roberts said. "I looked at him and said ... you need an old guy."
So in 2000, he came to the Valley. In six years, he's seen a lot. He was often the first or second trooper on the scene of a major incident, responding in civilian clothes or from church or from the restaurant where he was eating.
The Valley, Roberts said, like anywhere, has its share of problems. Methamphetamine is a scourge.
"I had a 13-year old tell me with pride that his mother was the best meth cook in the Valley," he said.
With so many people commuting to Anchorage, burglaries and thefts committed as crimes of opportunity on unoccupied homes are a rampant problem. And then there's friction between old and new residents.
"A guy might have driven his snowmachine up a trail for 20 years and now that trail is through someone's yard because they've bought and built," Roberts said.
And the troopers, Roberts said, have a staffing crisis. At any given point, there's usually four troopers on duty to cover an area that's 55,000 square miles. Roberts said there should be twice that many.
"When I retired a month ago, there were troopers with 100 open investigations. We like it when they're between 10 and 20, with 20 being the maximum. And almost everybody on day shift and swing shift is much, much higher," Roberts said.
For now, that's all behind him. Roberts said he's not sure what he's going to do next. He's got a few carpentry projects he's working on.
He's told himself that his next job will not involve a gunbelt, and he's allowing himself room to think about it while spending time with his four children and 10 grandchildren.
His two sons are troopers, and one of his daughters married a man who later enlisted.
"Every parent wants their children to be happy," Roberts said. "You don't want them to follow a path where it's just a constant diet of unpleasantness. I didn't encourage them to take this path. But I'm so very proud of them that they elected to serve."
Contact Daily News reporter Andrew Wellner at awellner@adn.com or 352-6710.
