There's a human being behind that customs officer

Ever wondered why the customs officer is so interested in whether you've visited a farm while away or seems to take forever scrutinizing that grainy photo ID?

It's not on a whim, explains David Murphy, the U.S. Customs and Border Protection's director of field operations for the Chicago region.

Murphy, 52, is in charge of CBP operations for 12 states, including 42 ports of entry - mostly airports.

The Midwest is a far cry from his native Southern California, where he started out as a customs inspector after turning down a graduate scholarship in history.

"As much as I wanted to be a college history professor, (the job) appealed to me," he said.

The appeal ranges from collaring felons trying to enter the United States, intercepting illegal immigrants and people being trafficked across the border, uncovering contraband drugs or phony iPhones, and preventing pests from infecting domestic agriculture.

Murphy, who lives in Palatine with his family, spent two decades in San Diego working the San Ysidro port of entry at the Mexican border.

"It has 24 lanes of traffic, 50,000 cars a day and 30,00 pedestrians coming through nonstop," Murphy said.

As a rookie customs inspector, he quickly got up to speed on what and who was being smuggled through.

"You're searching a car, you open the glove compartment and there's a face looking at you," he remembered.

Another unforgettable discovery was a car he suspected harbored drugs. "I was searching and I pushed down on the back seat - if there's no give it might mean there's something under there. I pushed and there was no give at all," Murphy said.

"I reached my hand down - maybe not the smartest thing to do - thinking I'd find drugs ... my hand came across a face. I jumped and my hand hit the ceiling of the car. The last thing I thought I'd find was a person."

Murphy became one of the top inspectors for seizures. "Whether you call it a sixth sense or a gut feeling, you know when something doesn't seem right," he explained.

One thing he's learned - there's no typical lawbreaker. Murphy once patted down a man in his late 80s at San Ysidro who was packing a semiautomatic pistol while his elderly wife carried a revolver in her bra.

As vacation season hits, Murphy has a couple of key tips for travelers re-entering the country - have passports for everyone in the family ready and don't be offended by the questions.

"People feel we're trying to get into their personal business," he said. But inquiries about visits to farms, for example, can prevent diseases from spreading. An innocent pair of shoes can carry mud with microbes that harbor infections that could affect the dairy or poultry industry.

"There's a war going on with agricultural pests people unknowingly bring into the country," Murphy said.

Another gripe from travelers is about all the questions customs inspectors ask.

"We're very cognizant of wait times," Murphy said. "We're cognizant people have been flying for 13 hours and just want to come through. But if 9/11 showed us anything, it shows we need to know who is coming into the country and that we need to verify you are who you say you are."

Murphy's father was born and raised in Chicago and he has relatives here. He calls his return to the Midwest a homecoming, and that's reflected in the job.

"Not only are we CBP and we work at airports and ask all those questions people don't like," he says. "We're their neighbors. We're their friends. We're their families."