When I joined the NSW Police in 1977 it was male dominant and bleached white. If you wanted to talk about diversity, then it was either Catholic or Anglican. In my graduating class from the Academy of around 60 recruits, there were only four women. No one was gay – or would admit to it anyway – and with decriminalisation a few years in the future, it was probably wise to remain silent. No one wanted to be different in the brotherhood.

Dissent was treated decisively and often brutally – one detective was carted off to a psychiatric institution to close him down, others had threats of trumped up charges, or if they were lucky – being forced to work with the officers they’d complained about.

Among a coterie of senior police, and those they’d mentored, was a cultural problem that peaked during the reign of Commissioner Colin Delaney that ended in 1962, and lingered for a generation. Delaney reckoned homosexuals were “the greatest social menace to Australia” and demanded his officers – many unwilling because they thought other crimes like assault, theft, robberies and murders might be a higher priority – get tough, and while there weren’t formal quotas, Delaney demanded plenty of bodies dragged before the court each morning.

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Under his watch “peanutting”, in which a younger officer who could summon up a convincing come hither look, was tasked to lure gay men into an almost compromising position, at which point Delaney’s men would emerge from the shadows and arrest the poor soul. Adding to the court’s penalty was an outing to friends, family and work colleagues – unless a sufficient bribe could be negotiated. Delaney’s get tough stance was encouraged by church going types and the Country Women’s Association who, at their 1949 conference, demanded tougher penalties for sex crimes.

By the time I joined, the zeal for chasing gay men was diminishing but coppers still swooped on gay beats, either on foot or using the police helicopter to herd men to a spot where they could be arrested. But they still had their moments – the thuggery of their actions at the 1978 Mardi Gras and raids on Club 80 – a gay men’s venue just off Oxford Street - allegedly prompted by complaints from the public (though it wasn’t a venue into which the public would wander by accident) were probably the last gasp of organised unpleasantness directed at the gay community. Many of the people I served with reflected changing community attitudes, and the prospect of chasing gay men was out of step and a waste of resources.

The gay community’s loud, clear and cohesive voice along with the pungent smell of systemic corruption, were among the factors that provoked the media out of its torpor and put problems with policing on the front page – often. In the entwined world of policing and politics, nothing stimulates change faster than bad press.

What wasn’t on the front pages was that from the late 70s to the early 90s more than 80 men died or disappeared in an epidemic of gay hate crimes, and over 30 of those cases still remain unsolved in part due to police indifference, incompetence and in some officers, homophobia. The bad press over the incidents of these dark days would finally come in the mid noughties.

By the late 1980s the NSW Police had installed liaison officers to bridge the divide with a community they’d marginalised and treated appallingly over generations. The force was changing in other areas too with the systemic corruption from kickbacks from tow trucks through to dodgy interviews, verbals and organising and/or participating in major crimes was no longer considered part of the job to which you either joined in or turned a blind eye because you feared for your career, livelihood or the dire consequences of whistleblowing.

When the Wood Royal Commission arrived in 1994 it gave impetus to the dinosaurs and their acolytes that change had arrived. Some got it and retired. Others became “born again”, conveniently forgetting their past and hoping others would do the same – creating a fresh image was paramount, and supporting the repetitive government “get tough” campaigns that were in vogue was a useful tool. Keep pumping out a positive message and the audience will forget to ask a question. Policing is one of the toughest and most thankless jobs there is and for the average working copper, not having to steer around the dodgy antics of a few of their colleagues was a relief.

Eradicating corruption and abysmal behaviour won’t happen. Events post Wood Royal Commission show that when you’re confronted with vast amounts of money from drug transactions and an insider’s knowledge of how police operate, it’s easy to believe you can get away with being corrupt.

Shining examples are the detectives from Sydney’s northern beaches exposed in Operation Florida for bribery, tampering with evidence and the like, and Mark Standen from the NSW Crime Commission for his role in an international drug trafficking syndicate.

Facebook Twitter Pinterest Cover image for Getting Away With Murder by Duncan McNab Photograph: Penguin Books

Have we improved dramatically since the bad old days of the 70s and 80s? Most certainly. The cultural, gender and educational base has broadened, the dinosaurs are consigned to history, and the force is in sync with the community. The brotherhood that protected the thugs and crooks is long gone.

However, the uniform will remain a lure for a small number who love the power and opportunities it brings – hopefully the contemporary police culture is strong enough to say no to these clowns.

Duncan McNab is the author of Getting Away with Murder, published by Penguin Random House.