Franklin Police Chief David Goldstein retires after 16 years in the city

David Goldstein, Franklin's police chief, is retiring on October 31.

David Goldstein, Franklin's police chief, is retiring on October 31. Michaela Towfighi—Monitor staff

David Goldstein, Franklin's police chief, is retiring on October 31.

David Goldstein, Franklin's police chief, is retiring on October 31. Michaela Towfighi—Monitor staff

David Goldstein, Franklin’s police chief, is retiring on Oct. 31 after four decades in law enforcement. His office is decorated with mementos of his career, including a history of the state police book which he helped compile. 

David Goldstein, Franklin’s police chief, is retiring on Oct. 31 after four decades in law enforcement. His office is decorated with mementos of his career, including a history of the state police book which he helped compile.  Michaela Towfighi / Monitor staff

By MICHAELA TOWFIGHI

Monitor staff

Published: 10-29-2024 4:47 PM

Modified: 10-29-2024 7:15 PM


David Goldstein said his Halloween retirement wasn’t intentional. It sure is fitting, though, for someone who spent their childhood wearing the same Medford Police costume on repeat each year.

Goldstein grew up across the street from a local police officer. His first bicycle was a discard from the station. His first holster and police hat came from the chief. His father, uncle and grandfather were all physicians – local officers and firefighters were among their regular clients.

That’s all to say that Goldstein, a Medford native, knew the work of local police quite well.

“I didn’t realize it until my dad passed about 20 years ago now that I had wanted to be a cop since I was five,” he said. “I had been collecting all kinds of kid memorabilia, cutting out pictures, keeping a scrapbook.”

That scrapbook of mementos adorned the walls in Goldstein’s office in the Franklin Police Department, where he served as the chief for the last 16 years. His nearly five-decade career has spanned most corners of the state – from the state’s major crime units to its SWAT team and a stint undercover.

His path to police work began in academia – a starting point that led him to stumble through landing his first job.

In Nashua, he was told he was overqualified, having just finished his master’s degree in public health and lecturing at academics in Massachusetts on the stress and trauma of police work. Chiefs feared he’d want to climb the ranks quickly. He saved the rejection letter and applied to over 40 other departments in search of his first position.

Goldstein was sworn in as an officer in the Derry police department in 1980. He hasn’t forgotten the first cruiser he rode in, a Ford LTD that looked like a battleship, or the many midnight shifts he worked, where the activity was nonstop. His career was bookended by local work – first in a town of 35,000, later in the state’s smallest city of nearly 9,000 residents.

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The middle chapter, with the state police, is written with well-known work. He was on the crime scene team for Carl Drega’s Colebrook killing spree in 1997 and was the lone state trooper in the room when a medical examiner began autopsies on slain troopers Scott Phillips and Leslie Lord.

“When he opened the body bag, I’m looking at two of my colleagues, wearing the same uniform I wear and the devastating wounds that they had suffered,” he said. “That to me was a bad day.”

He remembers his first homicide investigation as the “Girl Scout cookie case.” When he stepped into the house, the scene of a murder-suicide where a husband killed his wife and then himself with two young kids at home, the boxes of cookies were the first thing he saw.

“People shouldn’t have to see that,” he said. “That’s my job.”

In the public’s eye, Goldstein was on the scene, testifying in court and negotiating hostage crises.

At the end of the day, though, he’d change out of uniform and drop his cruiser at home before driving to the closest Dunkin’. There he’d just talk with other officers. The stress and trauma of police work often went unsaid those days.

These days, Goldstein says conversations of mental health and policing have evolved, but he was leading that charge decades ago. He holds a doctorate in counseling and human services, with a specialization in criminal justice. At the academy, he teaches a stress management course for all new recruits.

“The whole idea there is to orient and introduce recruits to what’s coming,” he said. “You can’t be on this job and not encounter the things that we encounter.”

It worries him that police suicides are four times the national average and one in 10 officers will leave the profession due to an assault while on the job.

Recent rhetoric, which Goldstein adamantly refutes, that cops at-large are unpopular and extreme only strengthens fractures in a time of deep divide.

“We are not very bad people. We are your neighbors, we’re your relatives. We coach softball and baseball teams. We work at the food pantry on our days off,” he said. “But this is what our job is. It is a difficult job in and of itself.”

Goldstein has felt that rhetoric acutely in Franklin. Even on his commute up from Auburn, he sees drivers speeding well over 80 mph, and can’t help but think it’s due to a lack of enforcement.

Over the last 16 years, Goldstein has watched conversations about Franklin’s future, in particular the redevelopment of downtown, ebb and flow.

With the introduction of Mill City Park, an outdoor white water rafting recreation center, talk of revitalization hit a crescendo, he thought.

For a man who jumps out of airplanes in his free time – with a parachute that pays tribute to his personal hero, Batman – rafting down the Winnipesaukee River in a kayak rivaled the thrill.

It’s reason to celebrate, especially as the city looks to build an economic base to bolster stringent budgets – which he’s been up against each year with annual requests.

Instead, public rhetoric has soured, with city council meetings spanning hours and public outcries behind the podium getting more personal.

“Do we really have to get personal? Do we really need to do that?” he said. “Do I really have to make sure there are police officers at every city council meeting in case, instead of being civilized and agreeing to disagree or wanting to sit down and work the problems out.”

That’s not to say he hasn’t been vocal himself.

Last year, Goldstein took to Facebook to call out Franklin restaurant owner Miriam Kovacs in a public post, after she critiqued the city’s response to threats she received from white nationalists.

Although the issue will now go to court, where Kovacs is suing the city and a slew of leaders, including Goldstein, he stands by his actions.

“I did everything right. Complaints were handled correctly. The proper agencies were involved to include the Attorney General’s office. The county attorney was here, the U.S. attorney, the FBI. We’ve done what we’re supposed to do,” he said. “I have not lost sleep over the incident itself, which started, sadly with a lot of misunderstanding.”

Goldstein wishes he’d walk out of Franklin with a closed book, as he would call it.

Drug use and domestic violence cases still plague the city. He’s asked for five additional officers in this year’s budget and would like to see an internal candidate promoted to chief.

Whoever assumes his position, for which a search is still ongoing, should create a better rank structure in the department and complete the state’s accreditation program.

“And that’s where my guilt lies. I wish that walking out of here... I could close my book,” he said. “There’s always something that wasn’t accomplished. Case wasn’t solved, murderer wasn’t caught, budget wasn’t increased. Whatever it happens to be.”

After 45 years, Goldstein will be forced to take 29 days off – a state requirement once retiring, before he hopes to continue with a part-time position that will allow him to keep his certification alive. He’ll continue to teach at the police academy and work with NAMI-NH on his critical incident debriefings and training.

And after 40 years of making sacrifices to support him, he’d like to travel with his wife – as far as Mt. Rushmore and Yellowstone, and throughout the parts of New Hampshire they have yet to see.

In the meantime, though, he has simpler plans. He’d like to sleep late and walk his dogs more often. He wants to practice his shooting and get as many jumps in as he can before his skydiving season ends.

“It’s time.”