Providence one of many U.S. police forces feeling Ferguson aftershocks

Kevin Johnson | USA TODAY

PROVIDENCE, R.I. — At daily roll calls, where local cops have always assembled for amiable operational briefings, there are now uncomfortable questions.

The inquiries come, Providence police chief Hugh Clements said, from officers increasingly worried that doing their jobs may turn them into the next YouTube sensation, depicting yet another highly charged encounter between citizen and cop.

On the streets, where Maj. Tom Verdi spent the early days of his nearly three decades on the force, the respectful nods of acknowledgement have been replaced with some “hostile’’ stares. And within the ethnically mixed South Side, Lt. Henry Remolina said the black and white uniform often renders him a stranger in the very neighborhood where he grew up.

There is no tying the tension here to any specific confrontation gone bad. No shooting, no beating captured on video. Rather, it is akin, law enforcement officials and community leaders said, to a powerful aftershock that has reignited long-unresolved social grievances in Providence and in many other cities across the country following the wave of civil unrest that swept through Ferguson, Albuquerque, Baltimore, Chicago, Cleveland, North Charleston, S.C., and Staten Island.

In the past 16 months, the so-called "Ferguson Effect" has become a staple in the American vernacular. Yet very few agree on what exactly that means and what it may portend for the future relationship between law enforcement and the communities they serve.

In Chicago, now roiled by the police shooting of a black teenager, Mayor Rahm Emanuel suggested earlier this year that the national backlash against allegations of police brutality following Ferguson had caused police to disengage, resulting in recent spikes in violent crime. FBI Director James Comey drew the ire of the White House in October when, like Emanuel, he proposed that recent surges in violence may be explained by “a chill wind that has blown through law enforcement.’’ Milwaukee Police Chief Ed Flynn, meanwhile, recently lamented that local law enforcement had all but been abandoned by the federal government, which has mounted more than 20 investigations of local police operations since 2009, with the most critical examination prompted by the shooting of black teenager by a white police officer in Ferguson.

If there is a common thread, it is a theme of law enforcement under siege where the smoke and embers of more than a year of civil unrest has ushered in an era of persistent suspicion.

Clements, who began his career in Providence more than three decades ago as a patrolman before his appointment as chief in 2012, said that the job has been transformed in recent months by new scrutiny, often rooted in events playing out far beyond his Rhode Island jurisdiction.

"There is an uneasiness among the boots on the ground,'' he said. "Everything we do now can be called into question. Everything is a delicate balance. Whether it happens in California or Texas, leaders in our community want to know what we think of it and what we are doing about it. This is a transformational time in law enforcement; I don't think we know where it will end.''

Chicago sparks renewed concern

Just two months ago, Houston Police Chief Charles McClelland was sharing a stage with Chicago Police Superintendent Garry McCarthy in Washington, D.C, where a coalition of law enforcement officials was touting a dramatic reversal in criminal justice strategy.

The group, with McCarthy in the vanguard, called for an end to mass incarceration and alternatives to mandatory minimum sentencing laws that have swept up scores of non-violent African American offenders and helped drive a wedge between minority communities and police that has only grown wider since Ferguson.

"The goal is to fix the system,'' McCarthy said.

McCarthy, however, will no longer be around to assist with the system's repair. Earlier this month, McClelland watched from afar along with much of the nation as the Chicago superintendent was swept out of office in the storm that followed the release of yet another video showing the fatal shooting of a black teenager by a white officer. A police dashcam video showed Laquan McDonald, 17, crumpling on a Chicago street last year after being shot 16 times by officer Jason Van Dyke, who has since been charged with first-degree murder.

The video and McCarthy's ouster sent a new shiver through the ranks of law enforcement across the country which has been reeling since last year's eruption in tiny Ferguson.

"I'm very concerned we are being judged as an industry,'' McClelland said.

Similar sentiments have been brewing for months. In October, a number of police officials gathered in Washington for a conference on rising violent crime, voiced collective frustration.

"Every incident, regardless of where it happens, (police) are made to feel they must answer for,'' Milwaukee Police Chief Edward Flynn said then. "It's hurting them. National policing policy is being driven by random YouTube videos.''

In Chicago, the stunning McDonald video is continuing to reverberate throughout the city. Demonstrators have called for the resignation of Emanuel, while the Justice Department has opened a wide-ranging inquiry into the police department's operations to determine whether officers have engaged in a pattern of biased policing.

Even before the video was made public, the department had been plagued by surging violent crime. Yet McClelland said the video underscores a new normal for American law enforcement.

"One single incident — a whole career can be judged on that,'' the chief said.

McClelland, who is African American, said that in Ferguson's aftermath Houston police have sought to expand their outreach to an increasingly diverse community in advance of any crisis.

Among their efforts: the March production of a nearly four-minute video that offers detailed guidance for every-day citizen encounters with police. The video offers a primer on everything from the right to photograph police activities on the street to how to properly notify an officer in some of the most potentially combustible incidents, when citizens are carrying weapons during traffic stops or other interactions.

"Right after Ferguson, there was a large outcry, especially among people of color,'' McClelland said, referring to what helped prompt the public instruction.

That training has been combined with an emphasis in the ranks on how cops should deal with the public at the most basic of levels.

"It's not always excessive force (that raises public concern), it can be simply how you talk with people,'' McClelland said. "Nothing more can erode confidence than if officers are disrespectful in tone. It is a big deal.''

'Soul searching' in Providence

A measure of how deeply and broadly Ferguson and similar events have been re-shaping law enforcement's relationships with communities may be the title of a continuing series of meetings — 1,133 miles from the Missouri town — between Providence police and a select number of religious and civic leaders.

Known as "Beyond Ferguson,'' the group's goal since its first meeting in January is a singular but complex mission to "prevent another Ferguson,'' said Rev. Joyce Penfield, pastor of St. Peter's & St. Andrew's Episcopal Church in Providence.

"We've been doing some soul searching here,'' Penfield said. "It's about building trust across boundaries. These meetings are not meant to cast blame; they are about holding each other accountable. I know that I need law enforcement. But I want that protection to be for everybody and for people to be treated with equal value.''

Although Providence has not faced a recent local police action that has prompted the kind of unrest that has played out in other parts of the country, the events in Ferguson did trigger demonstrations here. And that uneasiness has lingered in some unusual ways.

Earlier this year, a retired Providence police officer's long-running and popular gig as a dancing traffic cop, entertaining locals and visitors alike during the busy Christmas season, ended before the season started when he publicly objected to the treatment of a colleague by a clerk at a local coffee shop. The Dunkin'-Donuts employee scribbled #blacklivesmatter on a coffee cup before serving it to a on-duty officer.

The mini-controversy consumed hours of local talk radio. More than that, it highlighted some local anxieties that have been brewing since Ferguson and perhaps years before, some leaders said.

Jabulani McCalister, pastor of Calvary Baptist Church of Providence and a participant in the Beyond Ferguson group, acknowledges that recent events have "created tensions that have been bubbling underneath (the community) for some time.''

"It is an awkward time,'' McCalister said. "There is a pervasive mistrust of police in communities nationwide. The dancing cop thing raised legitimate concerns about our own racial tension. These are challenges that have never been addressed in a real way. But I think we now have some officials in law enforcement who are seriously trying to deal with it.''

Like dozens of other agencies, Providence has been preparing to outfit its police force with body cameras to better account for the everyday actions of its officers.

"It may not be the cure-all for police-community relations, but there are a lot of positives,'' the chief said.

On the street, Sgt. John Muriel says he tries to follow a simple rule that has guided his life in and out of uniform.

"You treat people with respect, I don't care who they are,'' the 20-year veteran said, while maneuvering his cruiser through the city on a quiet December evening.

POLICING THE USA: A look at race, justice, media

There are no life-and-death decisions to be made on this night. The most serious call involves a minor family dispute that the sergeant calmly referees with ease and moves on. No arrests; no ugly confrontation.

But there is no doubt that the series of recent police clashes has changed things.

"What's going on out in the country is scaring people,'' Muriel said. "People are scared of what they don't know. What they should know is that 95% of us are regular good people... We're human beings, but we're held to a higher standard. And we should be because too many lives depend on what we do.''

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