The Memphis Police Department is authorized for about 2,300 sworn officers. Right now, the department has somewhere closer to 2,000. That gap of roughly 300 badges shows up in longer response times, thinner patrol coverage, and a growing sense among Memphians that calling 911 for a property crime is a waste of time.
It also shows up in the revenue numbers for private security companies across Shelby County.
“Business is good,” said the operations manager at one mid-size security firm in East Memphis, speaking on background because his company bids on government contracts. “And that’s not something you should celebrate. It means the public system is failing.”
The Numbers Behind the Shortage
MPD has been bleeding officers for years. Retirements account for some of it. The department’s pension system allows officers to retire after 25 years of service, and a wave of officers hired in the early 1990s have been hitting that mark. Each retirement removes an experienced officer and replaces them with, at best, a recruit who won’t be street-ready for months.
Resignations account for the rest. Officers leave for better-paying departments in the suburbs. Collierville PD and Germantown PD both pay more than Memphis for patrol work. The commute from one jurisdiction to the other is 30 minutes. The Tennessee Bureau of Investigation and Tennessee Highway Patrol offer state benefits packages that Memphis can’t match.
The city council didn’t include a pay raise for MPD officers in the most recent budget. The Memphis Police Association, the department’s union, called it a slap in the face. Association president Mike Williams said in a public statement that the city was “watching its police force walk out the door and doing nothing about it.”
Entry-level MPD officers earn roughly $37,000 annually before overtime, which is low for a city where you might answer a shooting call on your first night out of training. A security guard at FedEx’s distribution hub in Southeast Memphis can make $18 an hour for standing at a gate and checking badges. The math isn’t complicated.
What the Shortage Looks Like on the Ground
Drive through Hickory Hill on a Tuesday night and count the patrol cars. You might see one. Five years ago, you’d see three or four.
Precinct commanders have had to make uncomfortable choices about coverage. Priority calls like shootings, robberies in progress, and domestic violence still get fast responses. Everything else goes into a queue. A car break-in at your house might generate a report over the phone, with no officer ever showing up to look at the damage or dust for prints.
That’s not a complaint from one frustrated resident. That’s the reality across large sections of the city. Frayser, Whitehaven, Raleigh, Orange Mound, Binghampton: neighborhoods that have high call volumes and thin coverage.
Business owners have noticed. A strip mall owner on Summer Avenue told me he stopped calling police about shoplifting at his stores because the response time averaged two hours. “By then, whoever stole the stuff is long gone,” he said. “I hired my own security guy. Costs me $1,200 a month, but at least someone’s there.”
Apartment complexes have followed the same path. Several large complexes along Kirby Parkway and Winchester Road now contract with private security firms for overnight patrols. The property managers I talked to said the decision was driven by tenant complaints. People don’t renew leases when they don’t feel safe, and “call the police” stopped being a satisfying answer.
The Private Security Boom
Tennessee’s private security industry has been expanding for a decade, and Memphis is the engine of that growth. The state licenses security companies through the Tennessee Department of Commerce and Insurance, and TDCI records show a steady increase in new guard company registrations since 2015.
The market breaks down roughly like this:
National companies like Allied Universal, Securitas, and GardaWorld handle the big institutional contracts. Hospitals, corporate campuses, government buildings, the airport. They have the infrastructure to staff 50-officer posts with trained, uniformed guards on rotating shifts. The tradeoff is that they’re bureaucracies. Getting a contract modification approved can take weeks.
Regional firms, companies like Walden Security out of Chattanooga and Phelps Security here in Memphis, fill the mid-market. They’re big enough to handle multi-site contracts but small enough that a client can call the owner directly. Phelps has been a fixture in Memphis for a long time and knows the local market cold.
Then there are the small operators. One or two owners, a handful of guards, a client list built on personal relationships. These firms live and die on reputation. They can’t absorb a lost contract the way Allied Universal can. But they can also be more responsive, more flexible, and more invested in individual client outcomes.
What all of them share right now is demand. More demand than they can easily fill.
The Guard Shortage Inside the Shortage
And nobody talks about the irony. Private security companies are also struggling to hire. The same labor market squeezing MPD is squeezing security firms trying to recruit guards.
The unemployment rate in Shelby County is sitting around 4.5%, which is low by Memphis standards. Entry-level security work pays $10 to $14 an hour for unarmed positions. Armed guards earn more, typically $15 to $20, but the licensing requirements are steeper. Tennessee requires armed guards to complete 48 hours of training and qualify at the range. That’s time and money that a lot of potential recruits don’t have.
Several firm owners told me they’re turning down contracts because they can’t staff them. That’s revenue left on the table. Demand for security is high. Supply of qualified guards is low.
The result is upward pressure on wages. Guard pay in Memphis has ticked up about 8% over the past two years, according to conversations with firm owners and a review of job postings. That’s good for the guards. It’s less good for the small businesses paying for the service out of thin margins.
Who’s Buying and Why
The private security client base in Memphis has shifted. It used to be concentrated in corporate accounts and government buildings. Now it’s much more varied.
Churches. Memphis has hundreds of churches, and after several high-profile church shootings nationally, more congregations are hiring armed security for Sunday services. A Baptist church in Cordova told me they started contracting for two armed guards in early 2019 after a deacon raised the issue at a board meeting.
Retail. Shopping centers like Wolfchase Galleria and Carrefour at Kirby have always had security. Smaller retail clusters — the kind of strip centers that line Poplar Avenue and Summer Avenue, are newer to the game. Dollar General and Family Dollar stores, which have been hit hard by shoplifting, are increasingly adding guard coverage during peak hours.
Residential. Gated communities and upscale neighborhoods in East Memphis and Germantown have used patrol services for years. What’s new is the expansion into middle-income apartment complexes and even some single-family neighborhoods in South Memphis. Neighborhood associations are pooling money to hire patrol cars.
Healthcare. Regional One Health and Methodist Le Bonheur both use private security alongside their own in-house teams. The emergency department at Regional One sees some of the most volatile situations in the city, and security staffing remains a constant concern.
Construction sites. Memphis has a decent amount of development activity right now, and unfinished buildings attract theft and vandalism. Construction companies hire overnight security to protect materials and equipment.
The Awkward Relationship
MPD and private security have a complicated relationship in Memphis. Officially, the department welcomes the extra eyes and ears. Practically, some officers view private guards with skepticism.
“Half of them couldn’t pass our background check,” one patrol officer told me during a ride-along in the Tillman precinct. That’s harsh, and it’s not entirely fair. Tennessee’s licensing requirements do include background checks, and TDCI has been tightening standards over the past few years.
Still, the training gap is real. An MPD recruit goes through roughly 22 weeks of academy instruction. An unarmed security guard in Tennessee needs 8 hours of pre-assignment training. That’s a massive difference, and it shows up in how officers and guards handle confrontation, de-escalation, and use of force.
The best security firms invest well beyond the state minimums. They run their own training programs, require ongoing education, and fire guards who don’t meet standards. The worst firms treat the state minimums as a ceiling and put warm bodies in uniforms with minimal preparation.
There’s no public database that makes it easy for a consumer to tell the difference. TDCI can tell you if a company is licensed. It can’t tell you if the company is any good.
What Happens Next
The city has made noises about addressing MPD’s staffing problems. Mayor Jim Strickland has talked about recruiting incentives and retention bonuses. Some council members have proposed tuition reimbursement programs for officers pursuing degrees.
None of these proposals have turned into funded programs yet. And even if they do, recruiting and training new officers takes time. The average time from hiring to independent patrol duty is about a year. If the city started a major recruitment push tomorrow, the effects wouldn’t show up on the street until late 2020 at the earliest.
In the meantime, the private security industry keeps growing. Every month that MPD stays understaffed is another month of contracts signed, guards hired, and patrol routes assigned.
Whether that’s a sustainable arrangement for a city with Memphis’s crime profile is an open question. Private security fills gaps. It doesn’t replace policing. A security guard at an apartment complex can deter a car break-in. They can’t investigate a murder.
The people who suffer most from the staffing shortage are the ones who can’t afford to hire their own protection. Wealthy neighborhoods contract for patrols. Business owners hire guards. Low-income residents in high-crime areas get longer wait times and fewer officers.
That’s what 300 empty patrol cars really costs the city. And right now, nobody at City Hall seems to know how to fix it.