Two familiar faces, one shared mission: Cresco Police leaders mark 25 years combined service
Wed, 03/04/2026 - 1:49pm
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By:
Rachel Riley TPD News Editor
CRESCO - In a profession often measured in split-second decisions, Chief of Police Tim Ruroden and Lieutenant Sam Fotiadis prefer to measure success in conversations started, neighbors helped, and families reunited at the end of the day. This year, the two mark milestones with the Cresco Police Department—15 years for Ruroden and 10 for Fotiadis—offering a window into how small-town policing thrives when it’s grounded in humanity and community trust.
For Ruroden, the roots run deep. He can point to the very moment the idea of a badge began to take shape. “Growing up my local police officers always seemed like decent guys that you could trust and go up to, which influenced my decision to become a police officer,” he recalled. That approachable model of public service became the standard he carried from his first shifts in the early 1990s, through leadership roles in other Iowa communities, and since December 2011 with the Cresco Police Department.
His early days on the job were a world apart from the structured field training programs many new officers experience today. He remembers being handed a set of car keys, a ticket book and a shotgun, and being told, more or less, to get moving. The trial-by-fire didn’t relent when he came to Cresco, either. On his first day here, he walked out of budget meetings and into a major death investigation—a tragic hit-and-run that underscored the gravity of the work and the responsibility the community places in its officers. Reflecting on how TV can shape expectations, he adds, “We watch all these glamorous TV shows and unfortunately that stuff happens in small towns as well.”
That responsibility can look different hour by hour. As Ruroden describes it, a typical shift is a mixed bag. During daylight, with storefronts open and offices bustling, the department sees more walk-ins and conversations—people dropping by to ask a question, share a concern, or simply say hello. Officers might pivot from those chats to assisting the fire department or EMS. After hours, it can be quieter, but the calls can also become more urgent. Through it all, the chief returns to the basics: be visible, be present, be available.
He also credits modern tools with helping officers do the job more safely and transparently. Body cameras, which are not mandated by the state, were adopted in Cresco because he instituted a department policy requiring them—an added layer of accountability that protects officers and the public alike. In intense moments when tunnel vision can set in, he says the footage helps officers accurately recall details they may have missed in the moment and provides clarity if false accusations arise. And while the department has less-than-lethal options available, the priority is always to de-escalate so those tools aren’t needed.
“Good policing to me is having an open dialog with people, don’t hide yourself inside of a vehicle — you want to get out and talk to people, you want to let them know that you’re there for them,” Ruroden said. “Carry yourself well, have good morals, good standards and be open to having communication with people”.
For Lieutenant Sam Fotiadis, the path into law enforcement wasn’t plotted out in childhood. He found the calling while working as a jailer in Clarke County, where the rhythms of the justice system and the chance to help people at difficult moments lit a spark. From there, his passion for public service grew, leading him to the Howard County Sheriff’s Office, then back to Clark County as a deputy, and eventually to the Cresco Police Department. His familiarity with local roads and roles made the transition seamless; he already knew the officers he’d be serving beside, and the community they’d be serving together.
Fotiadis has since become one of the department’s most visible ambassadors, leaning into public relations and outreach to make sure residents know who their officers are and how to reach them. He doesn’t see public engagement as extra—it’s part of the job. Whether it’s a conversation on a front porch, a safety talk at a school, or a quick wave across Elm Street, he believes those small connections add up to big trust.
“Good policing is just treating everybody like humans, the way I try to treat everyone is the way I want them to treat me whether I’m in uniform or out of uniform,” Fotiadis said. He’s honest about the realities of the work, too: there are pressures, there is unpredictability, and officers, like everyone else, are human. “Success for me is just coming home at the end of the day, and your fellow officers coming home safe also.” Also adding. “We will make mistakes as officers, we know that. We have to make sure that we try not to make mistakes but we’re human too. Just coming home, we all have families that we want to come back to.”
Like Ruroden, Fotiadis remembers his first days clearly. Before becoming a peace officer, his agency at the Howard County Sherrif’s Office required rotations in the jail and dispatch—two weeks in each—before a ride-along in the patrol cars could begin. Because he had already worked as a jailer, the foundations were solid. And when he moved to the Cresco Police Department, the handoff felt natural. He already understood the area, the expectations, and the shared mission of the team he was joining.
Those overlapping experiences—early-career trial runs, structured training, and leadership responsibilities—have given both men a wide-angle view of local policing. They know the best days involve more listening than lecturing. They know that compassion and consistency can de-escalate a tense call before it ever turns into a case.
And they know that partnerships with neighbors, businesses, schools, newspapers and other first responders are what keep small communities like Cresco resilient.
They’ve also watched expectations shift with the rise of high-tech television and social media. Ruroden recalls the so-called “CSI effect,” when people at a burglary scene might expect on-the-spot lab analysis because they’d seen it on TV. He reminds residents that entertainment and reality are different, and that perceptions online can be a mixed bag. “We just roll with the punches and keep trudging through with our profession and hope things turn around at some point here.”
In Cresco’s department, roles evolve right alongside expectations. Ruroden still takes patrol shifts, but his days now span far beyond the driver’s seat—managing budgets, schedules, equipment needs, and interagency coordination. “You learn as you grow,” he said, noting the mentors who helped along the way. “If I don’t know the answer, I seek it out and I can usually find what I need”.
Away from the badge, both men keep themselves grounded with family and everyday routines. Ruroden, a father of four and grandfather of two, likes to spend time with family, fish, tinker with mechanical projects, and play guitar—hands-on hobbies that, he says, are their own kind of therapy. Fotiadis often spends off-hours helping a family member with their business, a reminder that life outside the uniform matters just as much. His almost-3-year-old keeps him on his toes, and with another child on the way, he splits time between the department, family commitments, and parenting—soon to be parenting times two. A busy family man who views that community as just another extension of his own family.
Ruroden and Fotiadis have learned from one another’s styles. “I’ve learned as an old guard, sometimes there are some new ideas that come from the younger generation that are worth a look into. They bring some ideas to the table that I never would have thought of. It’s nice to have a new pair of eyes look at things,” Ruroden said. For his part of what he has learned from Ruroden, Fotiadis has embraced the idea of focusing on what he can control and staying grounded.
Pressed for an advice swap regarding the next phase of their careers, Fotiadis offered a nudge toward balance and joy for his chief. “Enjoy it. Go out and spend a little money, get a little crazy. Enjoy it, do your hobbies, carpe diem every day.” (While the “next phase” for a chief often implies retirement, this isn’t an announcement—just encouragement to savor the ride whenever that day comes.) Ruroden’s guidance for his lieutenant was about perspective and balance. “Remember that you are a peace officer. You’re not strictly a law enforcement officer. You’ve got to go ahead and maintain that healthy balance between your job, your homelife and the community. Learn how to find that fine balance between the three. A lot of times you’ll take this job home with you, you need to learn how to shut it off because it will eat you up in your personal time.”
Some moments never leave. Fotiadis thinks back to a fatal crash he worked in Clark County. “It doesn’t take much to ruin everything. That family was gone in a blink of an eye. It’s one of those things where you just got to live life. You can’t take anything for granted, you just have to keep living”. For Ruroden, difficult calls serve as solemn reminders. “How precious life really is, the effects that it has on families, first responders and the community. It’s ever lasting, it just sticks with me because it makes me think how precious and fragile life really is”.
If you asked them to finish the sentence, “People would be surprised to know that I…,” Fotiadis says, “Am willing to do stuff that they wouldn’t even dream of to keep them safe.” Ruroden grins and offers a lighter surprise from years past: “Used to have long hair and was in a rock band! People would be surprised to know that yes I had long hair and was lead singer in a rock band.”
As for what keeps them going, Ruroden points to purpose—serving the community well and supporting his team. “I want to be a leader for them,” he said. Fotiadis points to the power of a simple word of encouragement. “Just hearing thank you, especially if a little kid comes up and says thank you. It changes your day, your week, sometimes your month. A little positivity, it doesn’t take much to bring you back down and reground you and let you know that its going to be ok”.
Ruroden’s view of success mirrors that of his lieutenant, but widens the lens to include every person they meet while in uniform. “A successful day for me is people getting to go home to their families including the policing officers but also the public.” In other words, if the day ends without tragedy—if conflict is steered toward resolution and not harm—then the department has done its job.
The chief’s philosophy loops back to that early impression—the officers he saw growing up who were steady, trustworthy presences in the neighborhood. He’s quick to credit his team for carrying that forward today, and just as quick to step out of the squad car himself to say hello. Fotiadis, for his part, keeps looking for new ways to invite the community in—encouraging conversations that make the department’s work more transparent and more collaborative.
That dual focus—on relationships and results—has anchored their combined quarter-century with the Cresco Police Department. It’s visible in the everyday scenes: an officer helping a business owner sort out a security question; a lieutenant kneeling to reassure a child at a traffic stop; a chief answering a resident’s concern on the sidewalk instead of over the phone.
Both men will tell you they didn’t arrive at these milestones alone. They mention the colleagues who keep watch over one another, the families who absorb odd hours and changing shifts, and the residents who pick up the phone not only to report a concern but also to say thanks. And they keep circling back to the simplest, most universal goal.
“People getting to go home at the end of the day is all that matters,” Ruroden said.
In Cresco, that’s the kind of measure that counts. It’s in the relationships nurtured over many years, the calls answered with care, and the quiet pride in a town where officers and neighbors still know one another by name. With 15 years for the chief and 10 for the lieutenant—on top of long careers before Cresco—Ruroden and Fotiadis are clear about what comes next: more conversations, more connection, and more nights when, thanks to calm heads and steady hands, everyone makes it home.
