Editor's Note: Links to all of the JFP's crime stories to date are archived below this story.
The tall window of the Jackson Police Department's COMSTAT room on the 17th floor of the Standard Life Building looks west and north on a crumbling Jackson. The King Edward Hotel looms just to the left, the remains of the bulldozed Noble Hotel is straight ahead, a ripped-up Farish Street lies a bit further on. Thanks largely to racial politics and the rise of a suburban culture that takes from cities without returning a whole bunch, the riches of the past are no more, at least not right now in downtown Jackson. What has replaced the neon lights and bustling commerce of yesteryear is crime, or at least a powerful perception of it.
Often blamed for that crime is a defensive majority-black city administration. That administration faces community pressure from people of all races for them to reduce violence, an often-hostile media obsessed with statistics, concerned citizens at odds on how to handle young offenders and, a disconcerting "us" and "them" mentality from some in the community.
View from the 17th Floor
The March 19 meeting of COMSTAT—Computer Analysis of Crime Statistics—was like any other Wednesday morning for JPD officers, except this time a reporter was there. When I walked in with Chief Robert Moore, a Pontotoc native who has been at the helm of the department since last July, the officers looked uncomfortable. They were, after all, there to report on their successes and failures of the past week fighting crime in the city of Jackson. This is a weekly show-and-tell routine that the media-shy department tends to keep to itself. Until recently the department only released crime stats every six months. Now it's quarterly, but not often enough for critics. And the department was, and still is, in the middle of a crime spike that Moore optimistically calls a temporary "bubble."
Since the beginning of the year, several high-profile shootings had occurred in the city, including the Nissan engineer, the Captain D's drive-by shooting and the gunning down of a Domino's delivery man. Also igniting outrage earlier this year is the fact that robbery had shot up 91 percent over the same period the year before, car burglaries spiked, and reports of break-ins and armed robberies were rampant. The police are an easy target. To counter that criticism, Moore is determined to become more "transparent," as he calls it, and so he opened the COMSTAT door to me. "I told her some people in the streets don't know how we fight crime," he said to the officers as I pulled up a chair.
After showing off some new technology—cameras mounted in police cars that, to me, just seemed to prove that a high-speed chase of a burglar on wet Fondren streets looked mighty dangerous for pedestrians—the officers launched into their precinct reports. The COMSTAT meetings, I would soon learn, are detailed discussions of the last week's crime precinct by precinct, beat by beat, street by street.
Commander Rick Seavey of Precinct 4, Northeast Jackson, went first, as his district was projected onto a big screen. "I wish I could tell you we've seen major reductions, Chief. We're down in auto thefts and burglaries," said Seavey, who is one of the few white commanders. The department had joined forces earlier that month with the Hinds County Sheriff's Department to patrol the I-55 North corridor for car theft, and they had caught five car thieves "in a matter of seconds," he said. But car burglaries continue to plague the precinct and had been the source of public consternation there in recent months. "If it wasn't for auto burglaries, I'd be having a spectacular year," Seavey said, adding that victims often leave keys in the car or even the engine running. "We're trying to educate people as much as possible," he said. Seavey discussed specific trouble spots with the chief, promising to give special attention to Hallmark Gardens apartments and North Hill Square.
Next up was Commander Ron Sampson, who oversees Precinct 3, which covers northwest Jackson in and around Medgar Evers Blvd. His precinct had seen a 5-percent drop in crime, including a 29-percent drop in auto burglaries, although many cars were still being stolen—mostly Fords, Toyotas and Mitsubishis with easily accessible steering columns, Sampson said. He had also seen "extremely high" aggravated assault and, he added, "of course, the homicides." Nine of the 11 murders that had occurred in Jackson this year by that meeting had been in Precinct 3, and most of them between friends and family members. "That's who's killing each other over there," Moore said to Sampson, shaking his head. Sampson also reported 13 burglaries of homes and storage rooms. He described one business owner who allows vagrants to hang around his store, using them for cheap labor. In turn, his store keeps getting broken into, often for cigarettes. "He asked us if we can camp out in front. I told him that was impossible."
The COMSTAT reports continued at this pace with the officers looking sheepish about their shortcomings and hopeful about their gains—and seemingly with little sugarcoating. Precinct 2 (central city) reported a 17-percent overall decrease from the week before, although auto burglaries were the "biggest worry." The commander also reported eight armed robberies, mostly "where people buy drugs," and said he was working with a number of businesses in the area, particularly hotel owners, to organize a business watch for information-sharing on possible criminals. Precinct 1 (south) reported a 30-percent decrease, but had a rash of house burglaries in a several-block radius and two liquor-store robberies by three white males, who put bottles of liquor into the trunk of a white vehicle and drove off.
Throughout the precinct reports, the chief grimaced at bad news and smiled at the good, clearly trying to offer his officers encouragement they don't often get. As Sampson sat down, he said, "Keep up the good work out there, all of you."
Dangerous City
"Let's take a stand now. Leaders of Jackson, Chief of Police Robert Moore, Mayor Harvey Johnson Jr.—what are you doing to stop this epidemic?" That was only one of many recent outcries against crime, this one in a March 17 letter to the Clarion-Ledger by Marsha Williams Darnell.
Darnell, who lives in Brandon and works in North Fondren, was robbed at gunpoint behind El Ranchero restaurant at 7:30 p.m. on a dark, rainy night. Two black men came up behind her and Jackson State professor Tom English, holding a gun to their heads, calling her "bitch" and telling them to lie on the pavement as they robbed the two. They then fled. Outraged at what she sees as out-of-control crime in the city (which she calls "terrorism"), Darnell started calling media outlets and looking for other crime victims to network with. "Crime is driving people out," she said in a March 14 interview. Small businesses are going to close and spring up in the suburbs; people are not going to come in to Jackson."
Darnell, 49, wants daily life to return to the safety she felt as a child growing up in Newton County in the 1950s and '60s. "We grew up on a big cotton farm we'd had since the 1830s; my father used to leave the keys in the station wagon. I grew up in such an atmosphere of trust; I guess it makes me so angry that my grandson is in a society where random acts of violence are so common," she said. Darnell's family is so scared of crime that her adult daughter will not let Darnell take her baby grandson in a stroller to the park in Pearl, where her daughter lives, even in broad daylight. Darnell advises other people to get self-defense training and stay inside when she feels it's most dangerous. "Use common sense. Don't go out at night if you don't have to," she said.
When asked whether suburbs could hold similar dangers, she said: "I think it (crime) is increasing more in Jackson; all you have to do is look at the Northside Sun."
Attitudes like Darnell's confounds Matthew Dalbey, a Fondren resident and assistant professor of urban and regional planning at Jackson State, who was recently featured as an almost-victim in the Northside Sun, a weekly paper that often headlines full-length stories about individual crimes on its front page.
Dalbey says families are safer living in a more open environment where people walk their dogs on the sidewalks, jog in the neighborhood and look out for each other. "I'd rather take my kids to a park in the city where there's a better chance of more people," he said. And, he added, "The way criminals work, they try to prey on people they think are vulnerable." Being overwrought by fear is one way to look vulnerable.
Dalbey's brush with crime came one night in February when he got up for a glass of water. When he walked past his unshuttered plate-glass window, he saw a car stop in front of his house and a tall white, preppy teenager—wearing a reddish button-down shirt and knakis—approach his car. When the car's dome light went on, Dalbey went to call the police, but the kids were gone by the time he got back. Nothing was taken. The police responded within 10 minutes, which Dalbey felt was reasonable.
The incident, he said, made him become more aware, but hasn't scared him and his family out of the neighborhood, which they love. He said it also bolstered his belief that it's good to not live closed off from the outside, to have open windows where you can see what's going on in the street or at your neighbor's house. Dalbey, an expert on neighborhood planning, also criticizes the strategy of living on cul-de-sacs or closing streets to keep out traffic and the proverbial "riff-raff." "You want traffic," he said. Activity, from both cars and people, helps decrease the risk of crime, he said. "We live in this community because we like walking our dogs, like seeing our neighbors. You shouldn't stop doing that; just be more aware."
Dalbey is sympathetic toward crime victims like Darnell—being robbed at gunpoint is terrifying—but says that the perception of crime is often worse than the reality. After actress Lydy Caldwell was killed in his neighborhood (by someone who had done work for her), Dalbey said his family called the 4th Precinct to get advice. The officer didn't say not to worry at all, but to be observant, to not invite crime by leaving valuables in unlocked cars and the like. "I wanted him to say, 'Your neighborhood is safe, we've got it under control, don't worry.' But he can't say that." Dalbey added, "I don't know how the police prevent crime."
Not Our Fault
Chief Robert Moore has started taking the criticism of the police personally. "There is a tendency here in Jackson to blame the police; it eats away at the officers' self-esteem when they don't hear nothing but negative," he said at a March 4 Parents for Public Schools "Lunch Bunch" speech. He was so troubled with recent critical media coverage of his department's handling of the crime "bubble" that he chucked the meeting's agenda—school violence—in order to defend his department. "Until we stop blaming the police for problems in this community, we're never going to solve them," he said.
The Metro community, though, has a long tradition of blaming the Jackson Police Department, and historical basis for at least some of it. A 1999 study by the Maple/Linder Group—a consulting firm started by two police officers out of New York Mayor Rudy Giuliani's tough-on-crime New York—came to what the typically JPD-critical Metropolitan Crime Commission called a "dire" prognosis. They described a "police culture characterized by cynicism, distrust and a lack of accountability. Training was rudimentary, discipline and recognition perceived as capricious and unfair, no career path, low morale, high turnover and a perception of corruption held by citizens and police alike."
Moore said in a March interview that the department was indeed a mess when he arrived and that many of those problems have been solved, or are being solved. He says he is doing what it takes, revamping the department, making it more efficient, using COMSTAT data to hold officers accountable—while also trying to build back up their self-esteem. "They know my history," he said of the officers. "I have a reputation of fairness. I get things done." The chief—whose offices are decorated in tributes to civil-rights heroes (as well as significant numbers of pictures of himself meeting dignitaries and getting awards)—came to Jackson from a law-enforcement tenure in Illinois and Georgia. In past positions, he drew recognition for both increasing black representation on the force and in police management, as well as attacking what he calls the "cancer" of black-on-black crime, which indeed accounts for much of the violent crime in Jackson. In those ways, he seems an obvious fit for a difficult Jackson department.
And he believes he's changing the culture. The chief points to positive crime statistics for 2002 over 2001 that show that the city is not in a "state of insurrection," as City Councilman Ben Allen later characterized the crime situation at a March 28 town-hall meeting of about 25 people. Indeed, the city's crime statistics as provided to the FBI show that violent crime in the city dropped 10 percent for the first half of 2002 and 5 percent by the end of the yearr. Homicides dropped 2 percent (if you do not include justifiable homicide, which the FBI does not allow reported in murder statistics).
But those statistics have come under fire from various quarters—from residents who say crimes are unreported, from reporters who say that the numbers are cooked and from the Metropolitan Crime Commission—a group of mostly businesspeople who tend to have a "throw away the key" approach toward crime-fighting. "About two-thirds of all crimes aren't reported to police. Moreover, 55 to 60 percent of all violent crimes go unreported. This fact renders almost all crime statistics unreliable," the Commission stated in a 2001 "Crime Scene" newsletter. The JPD does have a shaky history with stats; in 2000, the Maple/Linder consultants helped reveal that the crime statistics for perhaps 10 years were unreliable due to computing errors. The chief says the COMSTAT system remedies any such problems.
Moore is not willing to provide those week-by-week COMSTAT figures to the media, however, which has caused a flurry of angry editorials in recent months from press outlets that, rightly, believe that the public should have access to those figures. He told me in his office that he isn't ready to trust the media with it, yet. He says, in effect, that too many local media outlets have an agenda of making the city, and the department, look bad at a time when he needs morale high to fight the spike in crime. "I have to gauge how to best manage the data. They'll use it for their own purposes. I can't provide everything people think they might want. I'm not sure how much is enough," he said.
Local media have pointed out that other cities provide much more statistical data, such as in Memphis where crime data are posted regularly on a Web site. And Mississippi's state sunshine laws call for such information to be readily available. But the chief maintains that the relationship between the media and the police here is so poor that he is better off holding back the information. They don't want to know about the police's successes, he said: "We went through a bubble and arrested about everybody involved, and no one said 'thank you,'" he said. "The (daily) newspaper says we aren't doing nothing; things like that bother me." He also points to a near-90-percent "clearance rate" for recent homicides—the rate of arrests.
He was talking to a journalist who always advocates for more information rather than less, and believes that it's not up to governmental institutions to "control" how information is used. I suggested to Moore that he might better make his case by showing the public COMSTAT data on a weekly basis to share how crime can ebb and flow in different areas and to show the public what the police are up against. He conceded that he is "considering it."
But after attending several press conferences, I've seldom seen a less-civil environment between media and a police department, even in New York City. Many of the reporters seem to parse the chief's every word, waiting for a "gotcha" slip-up. One weekly's publisher openly accused Moore at the March 5 meeting of "having a chip on your shoulder," after the chief said that he would not provide weekly statistics. ("If you're going to use it for the wrong reasons, I hesitate to give it to you," he had just said.) Frankly, it seems like the media-police relationship in Jackson is at a stalemate. And that doesn't exactly help further Moore's community-policing strategy.
Community Policing
Community policing, sometimes criticized for being a public-relations effort to take heat off police, is supposed to work something like this: The police work directly with community members and city government to model individualized strategies for specific crime problems. Most importantly, the community and the cops get to know each other, and develop trust. If someone is in need, they know a beat officer, or perhaps a cop on a bike, who can come to their rescue. The police can get to know the young people in the community and help steer them away from bad influences.
Moore called this strategy, which he hopes to start putting firmly into place, a "three-legged animal" (community, police, government). Without one, the beast can't stand. He told the luncheon attendees that the distrust of the police, promulgated by the media, will get in the way: "The whole process of community policing, ladies and gentlemen, is not blaming the police."
One problem, of course, is that traditional media like to report crime. Why? Because it sells. Most press outlets prefer what is called "episodic" reporting—something happened today; report it—instead of running more enterprising stories that place news events in a wider context. Context can show that crime does spike, that it's contained to certain areas or that it is, in fact, something that police aren't addressing. None of that context makes any crime any less heinous, of course, but it certainly can lead to less hysteria on the part of the general public. And it can help the community find solutions, rather than just blame.
"You need a good relationship between the media, community and the police for community policing to work," said urban planner Dalbey. "If the media is selling newspapers because they are criticizing the police, that's not going to help community policing. They need to make money by showing they can be positive and quality partners in the city." He describes a local newscast in the days after Caldwell was killed. It showed real-estate signs in front of houses, saying that crime was driving people out. In fact, the crime had nothing to do with those sales, and property values are up in his neighborhood.
Tough Work Ahead
Moore says he wants a "shared responsibility" with community members so they can identify problems and then find solutions. The mayor, for instance, is said to be organizing a group of citizens to go into the city's poorer neighborhoods and work directly with young people to help steer them away from crimes such as the murder of the pizza man, allegedly by a 13-year-old.
The chief, though, does not sugarcoat his view that Jackson residents have to take more responsibility for their own children's upbringing and discipline. "I don't have the ability to come sit in front of your house and stop a burglary, or raise your children. You have to do that," he said. He does not hesitate to say that young black men are the ones most at risk of becoming criminals. At the luncheon, he addressed fear that it is too difficult to try to stop crime in their communities. "I remember Dr. King and those kids in Birmingham standing in front of those dogs," he said. "Somebody talk to me about fear from our own communities and our own kids. I don't buy it."
Others, though, believe there is little hope for a lost generation of young people, and want them locked up without the ability to post bond (regardless of jail conditions) or even get out on parole once they're convicted. At the March 28 town-hall meeting, held at the Mississippi Sport Hall of Fame, Ben Allen warned that the values of today, as opposed to those of the 1950s, are causing young people to commit crimes. He criticized a justice system that lets too many arrested people back out on the streets (a criticism that Moore also has, which he says JPD cannot control). And Allen complained about what he first called the "wild tiger syndrome," and then quickly amended to "pet tigers" to describe young people with an instinct to kill who can't be rehabilitated and must be locked up. (This harkens back to the now-debunked "super-predators" theory.) Allen said a new, multiracial Metro Jackson Safe City Watch group was forming to help make the city tougher on crime.
State Rep. Eric Fleming attended the town-hall meeting and, afterward, called Allen's tiger metaphor a "cliché." He said full education funding would help deter crime, and said that a worsening economy is causing "more desperation," and thus more crime. He agreed with Allen that the community needs to come together to be "more proactive" to prevent crime. He wants to see community policing, and not just the same police cars parked "the same time, same place" every day.
The question, it seems, is whether all these disparate forces—the city, the police, the media, community members with different ideologies—can band together to prevent crime from happening in the first place. Can we all stop finger-pointing and seek solutions?
Ann Herlihy, a former Jackson parole officer who now owns Fondren Traders, says she has made a "personal choice" not to get hysterical about crime; pushing the police too hard can bring a negative response, she said, especially against people stereotypically blamed for crime. "How do (the police) prevent crime? Target everybody who looks different?" she said. "I'm not jumping on that crime bandwagon. If you want to prevent crime, make sure they have an education."
As I was interviewing Herlihy, her 17-year-old employee, Leslie Hollingsworth, blurted out, "Why does the media do so many stories about crime?" She sheepishly apologized, but she shouldn't have. She nailed it—we need solutions. It's only when we move past the "blame game" to examine the root causes that we'll find answers.
Donna Ladd is a former Packard Future of Children Fellow at the University of Maryland, studying youth crime and zero tolerance policies in schools. This story begins an occasional series that will probe Jackson's crime perceptions, causes and solutions in depth in future issues.
JFP Crime Series:
Dec. 13, 2003 - Don't Believe the Urban Legends
March 17, 2003 - Opinion: Gun Violence: A Public Health Issue
April 3, 2003 - Blame Game: Who's At Fault for the City's Crime?
April 17, 2003 Crime: Playing the Numbers
April 28, 2003 - Radical Crime-Fighting: What Is Community Policing?
April 28, 2003 - Watching the Watchdogs
May 1, 2003 - Opinion: The Sky Is Not Falling
May 15, 2003 - Tough Questions for David Banner
May 28, 2003 - Editorial: United Against Crime
Aug. 21, 2003 - McScruffie the Crime Dawg
Sept. 4, 2003 - Perception vs. Reality
Sept. 4, 2003 - Stiggers: Escape from Jacktown!
Oct. 1, 2003 - "I Walk the Walk: D.A. Faye Peterson Defends Her Record"
Oct. 1, 2003 - "I Can Fix It: Attorney Wilson Carroll Wants to 'Fix' the D.A.'s Office"
Crime blogs
May 22, 2003 - 'Is Crime Coverage Out of Balance?'
Copyright Jackson Free Press Inc. 2003. Note: All JFP stories and the entire JFP Web site, including comments by readers, are copyrighted. Do not reprint any part without permission and complete attribution, and certainly not twisted out of context to convey a different meaning as a now-defunct local publication did to many quotes in these pieces earlier this year.
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