Former cop pens book detailing time as one of department’s first female patrol officers

She has faced down suspects who were high on PCP, had high-speed chases into on coming traffic and used her martial arts skills to subdue burly men.

Summerlin resident Debra Gauthier was the first female patrol officer hired under the same standards as men on the Metropolitan Police Department and spent 21 years on the force, leaving it in 2001. Now, she has written a book, "Bright Lights, Dark Places: Pioneering as a Female Police Officer in Las Vegas." It's due out July 12 and will be available on amazon.com.

Gauthier grew up in Las Vegas, one of four children being raised by a single mother. A full-ride athletic scholarship to Arizona State University already was a done deal when disaster struck. She was diagnosed with malignant melanoma at 18, just before finishing high school.

"It's the black widow of cancer," she said.

It was in its advanced stages. Her youth and athletic conditioning helped her battle the disease. A year later, she was back on her feet, ready to continue her education, but the scholarship was gone. She went to the University of Nevada, Las Vegas and earned a fine arts degree.

The plan was to be an architect. The plan changed when she noticed an ad in the paper soon after graduation that said: "Wanted: a few good men."

The notice intrigued her, and suddenly the thought of spending all day indoors, chained to an office, lost its appeal. The fact that it was a challenging position -- a street police officer with the Metropolitan Police Department -- only added to the allure.

"I thought, 'I can do that,' " she said. "Overcoming the odds, that was part of who I was."

She was one of about 1,200 applicants and then one of 50 cadets. The training was intense, but Gauthier thrived in the boot camp structure. After all, she was a marathon runner, a hiker and a mountain bike enthusiast. Only 21 completed the 16 months of training.

Joanna Wares, a friend, said it took courage to step up and be the first female officer to work a beat.

"Many times, women have a better perception of a situation," she said. "When you don't have the physical stature of being 6-foot-5, you have to be able to diffuse a situation" without being physical.

Nancy Oesterle, a senior judge, was a sorority sister of Gauthier's and their lives crossed paths professionally.

"When I joined the bench in 1990, I was the only female judge on Las Vegas J ustice C ourt, and there were still relatively few women in law enforcement," said Oesterle, "so Debra should certainly be recognized for breaking new ground and creating new opportunities for women to pursue occupations which were formerly closed to them.

"As a district attorney, my size wasn't a factor, but Debra had a lot of guts to ride alone in a patrol car and deal daily with the street criminals who were usually larger and stronger."

Gauthier's gender came into play another way. In "Bright Lights, Dark Places," she tells how she posed as an easy mark for would-be purse snatchers.

One day, she was seated on a bench downtown, outfitted with a rubber belly in order to appear pregnant. Money was sticking out of her pocketbook.

Undercover officers watched from across the street as two men loitered suspiciously near the bench. The pair struck just as a large truck rumbled past the bench, snatched the purse and took off running. Gauthier's backup had missed it, the truck blocking their view.

Gauthier's yelling, however, got the attention of two nearby casino workers who were on strike. They dropped their picket signs, tackled the robbers and held them down. She ran up, cuffed the pair, and her fellow officers hauled them off to jail.

One night, she answered a call with no back up units. It was a 9-1-1 call -- a man was holding another man at gunpoint. Gauthier arrived at a huge, deserted office complex, and a maintenance man pointed out the office where he'd seen the two men enter. Gauthier made her way down a corridor, weapon drawn. There were footsteps around the corner. Two men appeared. It was the gunman and a hostage, being held like a human shield.

Everyone froze.

"It was like everything was happening in slow motion," she said.

The hostage turned to bolt. The gunman swung the gun at Gauthier.

"All of a sudden, I'm looking down the barrel of a .45," she said.

She waited for the hostage to pass by the armed man so she could get a clear body-mass shot.

Before she could squeeze off a round, the gunman turned on his heel, ran off and barricaded himself in an office.

Back up arrived, and the gunman, who'd been enraged about a land deal gone bad, gave himself up.

"I received an accommodation for what could have been a blood bath," she said.

Her favorite beat? Downtown, where the petite Gauthier -- she's 5 feet 4 inches tall -- earned the respect of gang members by single-handedly face planting their leader on her first day there. It was an area of town, she said, where she could be a role model for girls who saw no way out of the squalid conditions.

Lori Anderson met Gauthier when both were in the Las Vegas Chamber of Commerce's Leadership Las Vegas program. Anderson called her driven and a genuine person.

"I have many police friends, and it's extremely stressful , mentally and physically," she said. "Think of what they deal with all day long -- people who are not nice, not happy ... people in crisis or who are unstable, violent."

Gauthier had her own crisis. She said she was being targeted at work.

"I had no problem earning respect. It was just that no matter what I did, it was never enough," she said. "I could never prove myself enough."

In fact, the picture she paints of the Metropolitan Police Department in the book is not a flattering one. She writes that she endured sexual harassment, was intentionally not notified of meetings she was supposed to attend, had her days off changed without notice and was passed over for promotions.

When contacted by View about Gauthier's book, the Metropolitan Police Department had no comment.

The second half of the book details how Gauthier had a "God encounter" and her whole life dramatically changed.

Writing "Bright Lights," she said, was cathartic. It was so cathartic, she's already writing the sequel.

Contact Summerlin and Summerlin South View reporter Jan Hogan at jhogan@viewnews.com or 387-2949.