海角大神

How police can get it right

Atlanta Police Chief George Turner is building a diversified department that's less reactive and more humane that could offer lessons after Ferguson. 

Cover Story

It鈥檚 9 a.m. on a drizzly January day, Atlanta is already thrumming, and Police Chief George Turner is facing, once again, questions about whether the 鈥渘oble profession鈥� he loves has lost its legitimacy. As his top brass meet for a weekly management meeting at police headquarters in downtown Atlanta, they recount the most serious crimes of the past week 鈥� two murders, six rapes, and a spree of carjackings. This segues into a discussion of how to prepare for the next protests about police brutality, which have been going on regularly here and across the country since a white police officer shot an unarmed black 18-year-old in Ferguson, Mo., last August.听

The chief knows who most of the organizers of any demonstration would be. He has their names and cellphone numbers, and they have his, an exchange he made to improve communication and to try to keep the protests peaceful. It鈥檚 an openness policy with drawbacks: After some of his officers arrested protesters disrupting shopping at a local mall over Christmas, one of the organizers gave out Chief Turner鈥檚 number, and he was suddenly inundated with protest calls from across the country.

The chief鈥檚 main concern on this day is whether demonstrators plan to disrupt the annual Martin Luther King Jr. march. But more deeply, chants of 鈥渂lack lives matter,鈥� he says, are a message that has come to affect daily police work: a female officer in his department who says she recently shot a man who was stabbing someone hesitated before pulling the trigger, she says, because she thought about the Ferguson protests.听

Where to strike the balance between using potentially lethal force and holding back is something that beat cops and chiefs are struggling with across the country in the wake of the most searing debate over police tactics in a half century. Top cops such as Turner want to make sure that their rank-and-file officers are using the necessary force to keep the public and themselves safe, but they also want to avoid the excessive policing practices that have stirred racial unrest and frayed police-community relations nationwide.听

It鈥檚 a fine blue line that some experts think Turner is walking as well as any chief in the country.

Over the past five years, Turner has helped change the culture of a force that was reeling from misconduct scandals and the stern reprimands of federal judges. He has dramatically diversified the face of his department, discouraged racking up petty arrests that fall disproportionately on minorities, tapped the power of big data to institute preventive policing, and tried to create a more humane force. While critics still believe the Atlanta Police Department (APD) has a ways to go, Turner, by many accounts, has created one of the more professional departments in the United States.听

鈥淔or many years, we鈥檝e had reactive, traditional policing, including here in Atlanta, which distances itself from the community, and where there are quotas for tickets and arrests, and that is a mistake,鈥� says Robert Friedmann, a criminal-justice professor at Georgia State University in Atlanta. 鈥淭he citizenry is not stupid 鈥� they know when they鈥檙e being harassed.鈥�

In contrast, Turner 鈥渃ame in with a vision to move the department forward in terms of community policing, in terms of improving morale, and [to residents] he really portrays a very good balance of being inquisitive, wanting to learn, and wanting to make a positive difference,鈥� he says. 鈥淗e listens, and he cares.鈥�

In January, President Obama established a task force aimed at increasing 鈥渢rust and transparency鈥� between police and the communities they serve. It was in response to controversial police shootings in Ferguson; Albuquerque, N.M.; Cleveland; and Staten Island, N.Y., as well as the retaliatory murder of two New York police officers in the wake of the Staten Island incident. What鈥檚 happening here in Atlanta could prove instructive for other cities as the nation undergoes a boisterous rebellion on the streets 鈥� as well as a quiet revolution in tactics and technology in precinct houses.

鈥� 听 听 鈥� 听 听 鈥⑻�

Turner maintains the gym-toned carriage of a football player, which, in fact, he used to be. He played cornerback for Clark College, now Clark Atlanta University, and was good enough that he thought he might play in the National Football League. But a contract never materialized.听

So Turner, the son of an Atlanta gas station owner, decided instead to apply to the APD. He was given a nightstick, a pair of handcuffs, and keys to a patrol wagon. He spent five months picking up drunks and seeing 鈥渁 part of the city I had never even thought existed,鈥� he says.

Turner is unusual for a cop. Unlike many US police officers who have family members with law enforcement or military backgrounds, Turner had no connection to badges or M-16s before joining the force. He admits he gets queasy at shooting scenes, and says he would likely never have made it as a homicide detective. He credits much of his success to the tutorship of former Atlanta Mayor Andrew Young, for whom Turner ran security and was a personal bodyguard.

鈥淲hat I took away from Young is how he dealt with people, how he took everybody seriously,鈥� he says. 鈥淭hat is a big reason why I鈥檓 here now.鈥�

But when Turner took over the top job in July 2010 (he was interim chief for six months before that), he faced the trust-wrecking aftermath of two incendiary incidents: the 2006 shooting of a 92-year-old woman, Kathryn Johnston, by a rogue drug strike force called Red Dog, and the 2009 raid of the Eagle Bar, where Atlanta officers used derogatory slurs as they pinned homosexual men to the beer-soaked floor.听

Among his first acts as chief, Turner disbanded Red Dog, fired the officers who lingered on the payroll after the two scandals, and hired a new liaison with the lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender (LGBT) community. He appointed Atlanta鈥檚 first openly gay deputy police chief. And while not setting quotas, he made sure that his evolving force represented the diverse and dynamic population of the city itself. Indeed, more officers have either been fired or resigned after violating department policy under Turner鈥檚 watch than under any other chief in Atlanta history.

As he set about to transform the department internally, other forces were shaping law enforcement from the outside. The country was emerging from a hyperaggressive era of policing that was rooted in the war on drugs of the 1980s and 鈥�90s.听

In the 2000s, cities experienced a dramatic drop in serious crime, which posed new challenges for police departments: They had to look harder and harder for people to arrest, amid expectations from the public to keep crime low, which meant cracking down on people for lesser infractions. Suddenly, SWAT teams were conducting raids on illicit poker games and unlicensed barbershops.

鈥淓ven though crime has been down dramatically, the political rhetoric and public policy hasn鈥檛 caught up with that,鈥� says Sam Walker, a professor emeritus of criminal justice at the University of Nebraska in Omaha. 鈥淲e鈥檙e still caught up in the 鈥榳ar on drugs, war on crime鈥� mentality.鈥� That has led, he says, to a sense of isolation in many urban neighborhoods, especially among young men of color, who have borne the brunt of mass-incarceration policies.

Many departments also became more militarized after 9/11. They found themselves not only fighting crime but also helping to protect the nation from the omnipresent threat of terrorism. This eroded the friendly cop-on-the-beat culture that had flourished under the community policing movement.

At the same time, the 鈥渂roken windows鈥� theory of policing was rapidly gaining ground. Its premise was that stamping out small crimes would make even tough neighborhoods more livable, eventually leading to a reduction in more serious crime. By most accounts, it worked, but at a steep cost: a sense among African-Americans, in particular, that the police had unfairly targeted them on behalf of the well-heeled and powerful. The police, in their eyes, had become bullies with batons and bullets.

鈥淭here has been an erosion of trust and respect between law enforcement officers and the communities they protect, particularly in communities of color,鈥� Chuck Canterbury, president of the Fraternal Order of Police, testified to Mr. Obama鈥檚 policing task force in January. 鈥淪imilarly, the law enforcement officers are growing more distrustful of the citizens in many communities because of an increase in violence that targets law enforcement officers.鈥�

Turner鈥檚 response to all this has been to largely abandon broadly applied crime-fighting tactics, such as stop-and-frisk searches aimed at small-time drug users and the ticket quotas that cops are often expected to fill. Instead, he takes a more targeted and malleable approach, channeling resources to meet the most pressing needs of the moment.

This means deploying a variety of different teams to address specific complaints. One unit of particularly physically fit officers, for instance, might be enlisted to chase down young car thieves, while a 鈥渜uality of life鈥� team will focus on panhandlers. Turner created an 18-member violent-crime unit to dispatch to especially troubled areas. It helped lower violent crime in one northwest Atlanta neighborhood last year by 40 percent. 鈥淲e鈥檙e working smarter, not harder,鈥� Renee Propes, an APD deputy chief, said recently.

Part of working smarter involves allowing beat cops to focus on gathering information rather than just busting people for petty crimes. Key bits of information are then passed to the senior brass, who try to identify neighborhoods that act as 鈥渃rime colleges鈥� for kids.听

鈥淲e need to be more focused, and allow intel and data to lead us to real crime hot spots, and never, ever disregard the conversation with the community,鈥� says Turner. 鈥淚n our encounters, it is critical to understand the humanity and culture鈥� of each individual.

Beat officers seem to like the idea of working with the community rather than just reaching for their handcuffs all the time. 鈥淏elieve it or not, cops don鈥檛 wake up every morning excited about locking someone up 鈥� that鈥檚 not why we get into this line of work,鈥� says Officer C.J. Murphy.听

鈥� 听 听 鈥� 听 听 鈥⑻�

Another dimension of Turner鈥檚 approach is visible inside a glassy downtown office building, in a room that looks like the bridge of the Starship Enterprise. Lt. LeAnne Browning is sitting in front of a giant screen filled with pictures from camera feeds across the city.听

鈥淣o, we will not be watching the Super Bowl on that,鈥� says Browning, a self-deprecating former detective.

Funded by Atlanta鈥檚 wealthy Loudermilk family, the Video Integration Center (鈥淰IC鈥�) takes in live streams from 3,400 different cameras around the city, most of them privately owned. The system is equipped with a sophisticated search function. It can produce a list of leads, including the mugshots of suspects, even before a detective arrives at a crime scene. It鈥檚 an example of how Turner, with the help of the nonprofit Atlanta Police Foundation, is banking on cutting-edge technology to help him deploy officers more efficiently and avoid confrontations with the public.听

Along with Los Angeles and a handful of other major cities, Atlanta is also using a predictive policing system, called PredPol, that analyzes crime locations and other data to anticipate where larcenists and burglars might strike next. The system produces daily maps with 500-square-foot 鈥渞ed boxes鈥� that suggest where something is about to happen. Police dispatch officers to the areas and encourage them to interact with residents. Property crimes dropped by nearly 10 percent in parts of the city where PredPol was tested, while crime in other areas rose between 1 and 8 percent.听

Like other cities, the APD is also moving toward using body cameras, which offer their own promise, and problems. A now-famous study in Rialto, Calif., showed community complaints dropped by 60 percent after police started wearing the cameras. But they can also make cops feel as if they are under constant surveillance, and, even with the omnipresent eyes, investigators can鈥檛 always tell what happened in a controversial shooting.听

Technology is 鈥渘ot a panacea,鈥� Turner says. 鈥淭he only way to make it work is by melding good old-fashioned police work with the technology.鈥�

鈥� 听 听 鈥� 听 听 鈥⑻�

Underlying his comment is another truism about policing:听While chiefs can shape the culture from the top, it鈥檚 the officers on the ground with guns on their hips who determine much of the tenor of police-community relations. And officers here, like many across the country in these fraught times, are struggling to find the right balance between caution and safety.

One is Neil McCay. After wrestling with the heater on one of the APD鈥檚 oldest cruisers, he eases out of the precinct parking lot听 and rolls through one of Atlanta鈥檚 more socioeconomically diverse neighborhoods. As he puts it, it鈥檚 a place where 鈥渏unkies and crack dealers鈥� live next to middle-class people chasing careers. The crime here is mostly property related: 鈥渟mash and grabs鈥� from cars, in which thieves break windows and take whatever they can, usually from unsuspecting outsiders.

An 11-year veteran of the APD, Mr. McCay has to daily navigate a complex set of emotions: He鈥檚 out here cleaning up society鈥檚 worst messes, which he is happy to do. But, like many cops, he has to find a way not to devolve into cynicism. In his case it involves a simple palliative: gardening. He has a small plot at his house in the suburbs and puts veggies up for the winter.

The key to keeping your mind healthy as a cop, he says, is to get away from the culture, and reboot. But divorce rates, alcoholism, and suicides are far higher for cops than the regular population. Some, he says, become adrenaline junkies, addicted to action, which can be as destructive as a street drug.

In a surprisingly blunt comment, he says he agrees with what many protesters were saying after Ferguson and other questionable police killings. 鈥淓rrant cops make us all look bad,鈥� he says. 鈥淏ut I don鈥檛 agree with the protesters鈥� tactics. I don鈥檛 see how burning up your own neighborhood does anybody any good.鈥�

Good police work, he notes, is all about attitude toward 鈥渃ustomers鈥� in need of 鈥渟ervice.鈥� 鈥淭he way you talk to someone makes all the difference between them cooperating or getting in your face,鈥� says McCay.

鈥� 听 听 鈥� 听 听 鈥⑻�

Those are comments, no doubt,听that Turner would applaud. In his attempts to mold the department, the chief has encouraged his officers to adopt practices that neighborhoods support. He personally attempts to stay in communication with those who don鈥檛 always like the police, such as the post-Ferguson protesters. And when excessive force cases do arise, he says he tries to keep the investigative process as transparent as possible.听

Yet, even with these efforts, mistrust of the APD still runs deep. The Atlanta Citizen Review Board, which was reformed after the Kathryn Johnston shooting, saw complaints against APD officers 鈥� mostly for false arrests and use of derogatory language 鈥� double from 2012 to 2013. (They have since leveled off.)听

Samuel Lee Reid II, executive director of the independent board, says some of that spike was likely due to an outreach effort to make citizens aware that they can complain about police behavior. Overall, he says, community reaction to Turner鈥檚 era has been a 鈥渕ixed bag.鈥澨�

鈥淏elieve me,鈥� Mr. Reid says, 鈥渢here鈥檚 distrust of city government all around. There鈥檚 distrust of whether [the review board] will do the right thing ... and there鈥檚 distrust that the police department isn鈥檛 going to discipline anyone even if people complain.鈥�

Still, as Turner tries to fashion a more 鈥渉umanistic鈥� department, he also has to be mindful of the climate within which he鈥檚 making changes. In 2014, the number of police killed by gunshots 鈥� one-third of which were 鈥渁mbush鈥� attacks 鈥� jumped by 46 percent nationally. It鈥檚 a reminder that a chief鈥檚 first responsibility is to protect his officers.听

On this day, after canceling a lunch and stopping by to say happy birthday to one of Atlanta鈥檚 oldest citizens, Turner pulls into Grady Hospital. He鈥檚 visiting an officer who broke his leg during a foot chase with a suspected thief. Two years ago, Turner lost two colleagues in a police helicopter crash during a search for a missing child. A female officer was hit by a car and killed during a traffic stop on the Interstate.

鈥淭he toughest part is not being able to stop to grieve properly,鈥� he says. 鈥淵ou have to look strong.鈥�

While the chief initially agrees to allow reporters to tag along to his hospital visit, he emerges grim-faced from the officer鈥檚 room and explains he is in bad shape. The media will have to stay out. 鈥淭hey can鈥檛 make the pain stop,鈥� he says. 鈥淗is mother is with him.鈥�

He returns to the room and closes the door.

鈥� 听 听 鈥� 听 听 鈥⑻�

Late in the day, Turner attends one more meeting. It鈥檚 a roundtable about new procedures to deal with transgender crime suspects. Some 50 community members watch an APD documentary showcasing its gay officers, who tell moving stories about acceptance and career liberation.听

The video epitomizes how Turner has decided to shake up the status quo at the APD. Part of his gambit is to make the job more inviting to all kinds of people for purposes of both community relations and hiring. Unimpressed, the transgender activists push for more from the police, and the debate expands to include the semantics of body searches of transgender suspects and the legalities of transporting them 鈥� big issues in the community. 听

At one point, Officer Murphy, the LGBT liaison, urges the stirred-up audience to consider the progress the APD has already made when it comes to gay rights. 鈥淵ou have to remember that this is the Deep South, and you鈥檙e talking to a black, female, lesbian police officer,鈥� she says.

鈥淭rust is hard when you鈥檝e experienced discrimination,鈥� counters the panel moderator, Robin Shahar.

Taking his leave early from the meeting, Turner zips his chief鈥檚 jacket against the rain. It鈥檚 obvious his work with Atlanta鈥檚 gay community is far from done.

鈥淭his is hard,鈥� he sighs.

It鈥檚 not clear whether he鈥檚 talking about the antipathy from the audience 鈥� or the job of a police chief in post-Ferguson America.