Lee County Sheriff Carmine Marceno walks into the Real Time Intelligence Center, a technology-packed room at the sheriff’s headquarters in south Fort Myers from which staff can monitor the whereabouts of deputies during dangerous situations, as well as civilian traffic—both cars on the ground and planes in the air.
“And this,” Marceno says, placing his right thumb and index finger on a touch-screen computer tablet that’s at least two feet wide, “is the world’s largest iPad.”
The sheriff demonstrates how the device provides live looks at traffic cameras across the county, and zooms in over sites of interest.
Marceno often uses the phrase “law and order,” but he also talks about the business side of being Lee County’s top cop. He talks about budgeting, and keeping that in order, too. Last year, for the first time, the Lee County Sheriff’s Office budget eclipsed more than a quarter of a billion dollars.
But in addition to being the county’s chief law enforcement officer and the office’s CEO, Marceno also has emerged as a marketing master—and, some have said, a local celebrity.
During a three-day span in March, Marceno threw ceremonial first pitches at Boston Red Sox and Minnesota Twins spring training games. During an evening in between, he posed for countless selfies at Hertz Arena in Estero while ZZ Top played on stage. Later the same night, Marceno stood on the same stage, unfurling and holding an American flag and saluting the crowd alongside southern rock legends Lynyrd Skynyrd.
The following week, the Cape Coral Breeze newspaper criticized him for it, writing: “His entourage, including a contingent of uniformed staffers, was impressive enough to hold its own with that of the headliners. The side show, though, was kind of like a shot of Skynyrd’s Hell House whiskey—brand building, sure, but overpriced—way overpriced—for what you’re paying for.”
Marceno said he didn’t read the column. But he said he makes these appearances because he wants to see and be seen by his constituents. “I could be home, having dinner with my family and relaxing or working out or walking on the beach,” Marceno says. He and his command staff earn annual salaries, not hourly pay. “But here I am, still working. I want them to shake my hand, to have that personal interaction.
“You put people in jail, right? That’s not success. The real success is engaging the community, transparently, consistently, showing them who you are. Not because they’re pulled over. Not because they’ve had a medical experience, or they’re dialing 9-1-1. Everyone knows when you dial 9-1-1, an officer comes to your house, whoever that might be. I want to engage them, just because.”
Marceno doesn’t need to travel far to engage the public; he films public service announcements at LCSO headquarters and records talk-show style video segments, such as “Coffee with Carmine.” The media room and television studio have helped the sheriff create a marketing machine, and cost $347,000, according to public records, with the money coming from a mixture of drug forfeiture funds and the LCSO general fund.
Photographs of Marceno smiling can be seen across the county in front of the LCSO’s six community relations centers and digital billboards. Even the jail transportation vans have been rebranded as the “Marceno Motel Courtesy Shuttles.”
Since former Gov. Rick Scott appointed Marceno as the retiring Mike Scott’s replacement in September 2018, through being elected in 2020 and now running for reelection in 2024, Marceno undoubtedly has remade the Lee County Sheriff’s Office in his own image. He’s asked: Does he consider himself a celebrity?
“When you can’t sit and eat your dinner or your lunch because people want to come over and thank you, or they want a picture with you, it’s an honor,” Marceno says. “It’s a humbling experience.
“I want to hear somebody say, ‘I love you.’ I also want somebody to say, ‘Hey, I don’t like this or that.’ Both sides of the coin. If they think I can do something better, tell me. That’s how you engage your bosses. The great residents of Lee County, who I love, they’re also my boss.”
The six-year makeover of LCSO in Marceno’s image has paid off; not just for him, but for the entire agency. That Cape Coral Breeze column also said outreach effort money “may be better allocated to more deputies on the streets in high-crime communities.”
Marceno, however, has enjoyed having things both ways. Every LCSO employee received pay increases last year following years of static pay, and crime rates have been trending downward.
Marceno’s branding and marketing efforts work, said Gina Tran, who will soon be entering her 11th year as associate professor of marketing at Florida Gulf Coast University.
“It adds meaning to his brand,” Tran says. “When you’re talking about a brand, he is a brand, too. Because people can be brands, and the brand has meaning: He’s putting himself out there, he’s in the news, his image is out there. He goes to a lot of local events, and he interacts with the families and the kids. It’s recognizable. People see him out there, they see him doing things. You see him on TikTok and Instagram. That gives them the perception that he’s effective.
“Well, if they’re effective, then they should pay them more.”
The taxpayers of Lee County, through the county commissioners they elect, have done just that.
Boosting pay, morale, retention
Marceno stops in front of a helicopter, one of three LCSO owns, and gives Gulfshore Business a quick tour of technology.
There’s “Robbie,” the robot dog, which impresses children and earns their trust during elementary school visits. But it also serves a more critical purpose: It can knock down doors and allow remote communication with armed subjects, keeping deputies out of harm’s way. There are drones, one of which can fit in the palm of a hand and can follow Robbie into a building, scouting potential dangers.
Both pieces of technology were deployed Feb. 6 in helping LCSO secure Bank of America, where an LCSO sniper killed a suspect after he took two hostages while trying to rob the bank.
“We can’t do this on our own,” Marceno says. “If I said to you, ‘Can you please go and dig a pool in the backyard?’ and I give you a kiddie shovel, it’s going to take you a little bit of time. But then you bring a backhoe in. The county commissioners helped us out huge. They gave us all raises, and they all fund us, which we are thankful for. It’s an equal raise for everybody.”
Building a message
Over the past 10 years, Lee County’s crime rate fell by 50%, LCSO data shows. That includes a 6% crime rate increase from 2021 to 2022. LCSO attributed higher crime that year to inflation, crimes of opportunity related to Hurricane Ian and a population growth of 12.2%. LCSO, along with Florida’s other 66 counties, participates in the FBI’s Uniform Crime Reporting program. These statistics are verified by the Florida Department of Law Enforcement.
Jail population also has trended downward for most of Marceno’s tenure as sheriff, hovering around 1,200 inmates—below the 1,607 mark, which is the 80% capacity threshold that triggers discussions about increasing capacity.
Marketing those successes isn’t as important as enforcing laws, Polk County Sheriff Grady Judd said. But it’s important, nonetheless.
“Your community must not just be safe, but they must know that they are safe,” says Judd, 70, who has been with the Polk County Sheriff’s Office since 1972 and the sheriff since 2014. “Carmine understands the need to brand is customer service. He creates an environment in that people are not only safe, but they feel safe. He does that through his branding, and through his communication.
“You can be safe and actually not feel safe if there’s not the appropriate communication with your constituents. I’ve seen lots of communities where people are safe, and they go, ‘Crime is out of control.’ They watch the evening news. Because there’s crime on the evening news, they think it’s rampant. They superimpose that to their own neighborhood.”
Success is a multistep process, Judd said.
Just as Marceno has the marketing tools to promote feelings of security, Judd said, he also has the manpower, technology and workplace culture to create that security.
In search of best practices
LCSO has the “Rook,” which moves just 3 mph as a converted front loader/tractor, but it’s both incident-tested and bulletproof. There’s a swamp buggy, a speedboat and personal watercraft used during suspect searches and search-and-rescue missions. There is a steel-armored van with a turret and firing ports, and there’s a motorcycle.
“When you see the budget, like you just said, you go, ‘Oh my God,’” Marceno says. “There’s nothing wrong with old-school. But as we talk, as we speak over the next five minutes, technology is going to change. It’s that quick. But we’re working smarter and working harder. Instead of sending a helicopter up for a mission that’s probably $50 to $60 an hour in fuel, I can send a drone up for pennies per hour and accomplish the same job. Plus, it’s much easier to deploy.
“We have the ability to do that with this technology. We’ve got a robot dog. People say, ‘Why do you need a robot dog,’ right? Well, I’ll tell you why. First of all, the robot dog saves lives on both sides. We had a SWAT call out. A very mad subject had a heavily armed AK-47, automatic-type rifle, and he was going to shoot anybody who walked through that door. My SWAT team was there, and they didn’t feel it was right. The robot dog goes in and has the ability to show you the surveillance inside. We can speak to that subject and not send a human being in, where now you have a deadly confrontation.”
Having the ability to address the situation remotely, Marceno says, is “a much better way to operate. We’re able to de-escalate that situation. We’re able to take that subject into custody with nobody getting hurt. And that’s a win.”
Judd and Marceno are familiar not just with wins but with each other. Judd said a contingency of his deputies was the first to arrive in Lee County to assist after Hurricane Ian in September 2022, and they were the last to leave. He and Marceno agree they must be marketers and CEOs as much as they are law enforcers.
“I spend more of my time looking at spreadsheets and policies and best practices,” Judd says. “You are the CEO of a large organization. And quite frankly, that’s why people allow us to stay as sheriff. As long as you run a successful organization, you get to stay. If you don’t, the board of directors—which is the voters—get a new CEO.
“I can tell you in Lee County, the board of directors are very happy with the CEO in Carmine, because he does a remarkable job.”
Several Lee County business leaders told Gulfshore Business they approve of Marceno, including Tim Fenton, who owns 41 McDonald’s restaurants across the region and met the sheriff through one of his outreach efforts.
“I met Carmine through Coffee with Carmine,” Fenton said. “All first responders come in, and we give them a free breakfast. We try to stay close to the fire and rescue and the police departments. We think that’s the DNA of our community.
“I think Carmine’s extremely bright. His instincts are right on. I think he understands, from a business-owner’s standpoint, about rule of law. If we have any issues, we call the sheriff, and he’s there right away. Carmine, I think he’s the salt of the earth. It’s a tough job. As a business owner, I think it’s incumbent upon us to give back to the community—education, first responders and the rule of law with the police departments. They’re overworked and underpaid, all three of them. Anything we can do to make their job easier and make them feel more appreciated, that’s part of what we do at McDonald’s. If you don’t have rule of law, then you have anarchy.”
In addition to having the loyalty of many voters and business owners, Marceno has “undying loyalty” from employees such as Captain Tim Galloway, who, years ago, said he was once told by a since-departed leader he would never be promoted past sergeant. That was three promotions ago, all under Marceno, who prepared him for tests by quizzing him for weeks with flash cards.
Galloway now instructs and supervises a class of 21 cadets.
“It’s like chess,” Galloway says. “He puts people in place strategically, to make sure that supervisors like me have what we need, have the answers that we need, have the guidance and direction we need, so we can add some assistance. He knows the chess pieces to place. When we need something done, he’s got the right people in place in the chain of command.
“He still has the personality so that when you see him, he shakes your hand, or he hugs you. You can feel the way that he cares about you.”
Looking ahead
Marceno’s a sports fan, and he illustrates this by trying to FaceTime his friend, retired professional basketball player Shaquille O’Neal, who Marceno said would have been at his election victory celebration in November 2020 had the COVID-19 pandemic not intervened. Shaq doesn’t answer the call, so Marceno resumes talking about the budget and how he manages it.
“First and foremost, at the executive level, we have an amazing budget director here,” Marceno says. “The undersheriff (John Holloway) is amazing when it comes to budgeting, as well. They come in and check our budget and make sure that we cross the T’s and dot the I’s.”
An auditor also goes over the budget each year. “It’s months long,” Marceno says of the process. “This is a quarter-of-a-billion-dollar budget. It’s not something you can do in a week.
“You switch gears as a sheriff. One day, you might be in a two- or three-hour budget meeting. One day, unfortunately, you might be at a crime scene. The job changes by the second, by the minute, by the hour. You kind of have the team you build, and you depend on that team.”
Someday, Marceno hopes to oversee a new headquarters. That project would cost at least $50 million, and he said it would allow LCSO to move out of a flood zone and better serve the public.
“Law and order prevail,” Marceno says. “You have to invest, like anything else in life, you have to invest in it to get a return.”
As the 2023-24 budget concludes, the fiscal year 2024-25 budget begins. Marceno and his team will keep one eye on the current day and another on tomorrow. Lee County’s not getting any smaller, and neither are LCSO’s needs as a result.
“Again, we have a wish list,” Marceno says. “We always want. I want a new headquarters for $50 million. I want this. I want that. But inevitably, we balance our budget perfectly. We’re transparent. I’m a taxpayer before a sheriff. I’m proud to lead an amazing agency.”
Marceno sits in his new office. It’s a converted conference room, with the long table and a dozen or so seats still in there. The signed sports memorabilia, including a Dodgers jersey autographed by former manager Tommy Lasorda, are relocated from his old, more traditional office to the hallway outside.
The new office resembles a miniature version of the Real Time Intelligence Center. Instead of having to leave or make a phone call during the adrenaline rush of crimes and catastrophes, Marceno now needs only to turn around and face a bank of live feeds from deputy body cameras, helicopter and drone views and more.
Inside this room, Marceno’s not a celebrity. Outside of it?
“I’ve always been the same person,” Marceno says. “I’m just a regular kid from New York … who came down south.
“My brand, the marketing, is phenomenal. We have recently used that to educate people what we are doing every day. It’s not the citizens’ responsibility to find out what we’re doing; it’s our responsibility to deliver information, factually, transparently and consistently, so they know who’s serving them and what we’re doing. Every time we showcase the great things the deputies are doing, the men and women of the sheriff’s office, it makes it easier for them to do their jobs. Public trust. Consistent information and public trust. It’s important.”
Family—and work family—matters
As Lee County Sheriff Carmine Marceno speaks, he’s flanked by about three dozen fellow LCSO employees.
Some are deputies. Some are SWAT team members. They stand watching and listening—some of them later say they’re grateful—as he discusses a budget that grew by almost 15% from one year prior, nearing $277 million entering 2024.
That amount grew by about $35.3 million from 2022-23.
The biggest piece of that pie, almost $147 million, goes toward the salaries of 1,697 positions—men and women who are now making 15% more than they were one year prior. The raises were necessary to retain quality personnel and prevent them from leaving for higher-paying jobs and areas, Marceno said, and halted a trend of qualified personnel retiring or resigning.
Over the past five years, starting deputy pay has risen from $40,000 to $62,500, a leap of 42%, and a leap Marceno called necessary.
Sergeant pay has risen from $55,000 to $85,000, and lieutenant pay has risen from $65,000 to $100,000. Marceno makes $235,682, the second-highest salary to second-in-command Undersheriff John Holloway’s $283,500.
LCSO made available a hand-picked group of employees for interviews that were unmonitored; any questions could be asked.
LCSO Capt. Tim Galloway, 52, spent 12 years in the U.S. Coast Guard and has spent the past 24 years with LCSO. He’s taking criminal justice and archeology classes at Florida Gulf Coast University, working toward a college degree.
“Oh, where do I start?” Galloway says of the effect the raises have had. “With the pay raises we started to get, and the sheriff fighting just to get us back on track … I’ll give you an example. This is my third year of college. I had never been to college in my life, I could never afford to go to college. I can better my future. I can better my career. I can better my education. Just little things like that. I’m supporting my family better, [though] inflation is still going up. We’re not only maintaining, but we’re able to save money.”
His wife, LCSO Capt. Nora Galloway, works in internal affairs and has spent 20 years with the agency. She recalled the years after the Great Recession as a struggle, with her and her husband working numerous details—essentially overtime assignments paid for by outside organizations that hire LCSO deputies as security—to pay the bills and pay for their daughters’ music lessons.
“We were living paycheck to paycheck,” Nora Galloway says. “Some were maxing out their credit cards, just to make ends meet. I personally know some members of this agency that were actually asking for government assistance because ends were not being met. Now with the pay bumps, with where we are at now, we’re able to save money.”
Sgt. Morgin Evins has spent six years with LCSO intelligence. She’s also a homeowner at age 29, something she said would not have been possible without recent pay increases.
“Details, overtime, picking up extra shifts …” Evins says of how things used to be. “Thanks to the sheriff, we have more time at home. We don’t have to pick up as many details. This agency has taken care of me so well, from being a patrol sergeant to an investigative supervisor, and now I’m an intelligence supervisor at only 29 years old.”
Detective Corey Edmond moved to LCSO from being a correctional officer in Dade County a decade ago. He wanted to be in law enforcement from age 14. Now he’s on the school threat enforcement team.
“I didn’t want my wife to be a single parent, within a marriage,” Edmond says. “These pay raises have really freed up our time, from working all these extra details, all these extra hours. It has really allowed me to spend more time with my girls and see them grow up, and spend time with my wife.”
Marceno uses the word “family” in talking about his employees. “Before I was sheriff, my family members here went through many years with no raises,” he says of the years that followed the Great Recession in 2008. “The cost of living keeps going up. We were among the lowest paid in the state.”
In 2018, 2020 and 2021, LCSO said it lost more people to retirement and resignation than it could hire. It ranked 127th among Florida law enforcement agencies for pay and 16th among the state’s county sheriff’s offices. Entering 2023, those rankings rose to 98th and 11th, respectively, the LCSO said. The 2024 rankings aren’t yet available.
“Morale was extremely low,” Marceno says. “When people are not happy at work, they’re not productive. And they start to bicker, and things fall apart. The second side to that is they have to survive just like everybody else in the community.
“They would come in, and we would get them trained. We would get them uniforms. We’d field train them. And then they’d say, ‘Thank you for my certificate.’ And then they’d go to Tampa. They would go to Sarasota. They would go to Collier County. Now that, in the long run, cost us a lot more.”
