Showing posts with label FERGUSON MO. Show all posts
Showing posts with label FERGUSON MO. Show all posts

August 28, 2014

Broad Divisions Amid Missouri Turmoil


Patty Canter, left, defended Darren Wilson, the police officer who fatally shot an unarmed black teenage. Credit Joe Raedle/Getty Images


N.Y. TIMES

A poll taken since a white police officer in Missouri shot dead an unarmed black teenager shows blacks and whites sharply divided on how fairly the police deal with each group, along with a rising feeling, especially among whites, that race relations in the country are troubled. But when asked about their own communities, members of each race say their relations with the other are good.
The latest New York Times/CBS News nationwide poll shows most whites reserving judgment on whether the fatal shooting of the teenager, Michael Brown, in Ferguson, Mo., was justified. Most blacks say it was not.
“Whether they robbed a store, pushed a man or whatever the case may be, there are other strategies and tactics the police officer should use before excessive force and brutally killing someone in cold blood,” Felicia Irving, 28, a high-school English teacher in Hampton, Ga., who is black, said in a follow-up interview.
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The issue at the heart of the unrest in Ferguson — the suspicion among some that a white policeman was trigger-happy when faced with a young black man — is also at the heart of what divides black and white Americans. An overwhelming majority of blacks say they think that, generally, the police are more likely to use deadly force against a black person; a majority of whites say race is not a factor in a police officer’s decision to use force. Forty-five percent of blacks say they have experienced racial discrimination by the police at some point in their lives; virtually no whites say they have.


Lesley McSpadden and her husband, Louis Head, mourning for her son, Michael Brown, who died in the street on Saturday. Credit Huy Mach/St. Louis Post-Dispatch, via Associated Press

WASHINGTON POST

 Jeff Smith, a former Democratic state senator from Missouri, wrote a piece for the Times outlining the recent electoral tension in St. Louis County, the area just northwest of the city of St. Louis that is home to Ferguson. As we noted last week, Smith argues that the rapid shift in Ferguson's demographics from majority white to majority black outpaced the ability of the political infrastructure to represent the community.

Frustrations around police activity pre-date the Brown shooting. There are numerous anecdotal examples of incidents in which Ferguson residents complained of being targeted by the police. But there's also direct evidence of it.
Smith, in the Times, explains why police stops are important to local law enforcement.
The region’s fragmentation isn’t limited to the odd case of a city shedding its county. St. Louis County contains 90 municipalities, most with their own city hall and police force. Many rely on revenue generated from traffic tickets and related fines. According to a study by the St. Louis nonprofit Better Together, Ferguson receives nearly one-quarter of its revenue from court fees; for some surrounding towns it approaches 50 percent.
In Ferguson, according to data from the Missouri state attorney general, traffic stops have been on an upward trend, though the number dropped last year. Any perception that the application of the traffic stops is uneven is justified. Blacks are far more likely to get stopped, which makes sense in part since they are a larger percentage of the population. (Though, as we noted last week, they are overrepresented in those stops. Over 80 percent of stops in the past five years have been of black drivers, despite blacks only comprising about two-thirds of the population.) But once stopped, blacks are more likely to be searched -- and less likely to be found carrying anything illegal.

 St. Louis Post-Dispatch columnist David Nicklaus notes another point of tension.
The unemployment and poverty rates for blacks in St. Louis County are consistently higher than those rates for white residents. Only one time between 2007 and 2012 has the poverty rate for blacks been less than three times that of whites, according to Census data (which is only available through the latter year). The unemployment rate is two-to-three times higher, and, as of 2012, had grown worse while it grew better for whites.

 What's more, those figures disproportionately affect younger residents. Nicklaus pulls out a subset of Census data: "47 percent of the metro area’s African-American men between ages 16 and 24 are unemployed. The comparable figure for young white men is 16 percent."

Ferguson Wednesday early morning
Is this Gaza or Ferguson Mo? Tactical officers advance east on Chambers Road through clouds of tear gas as they try to clear protesters early on Wednesday, Aug. 13, 2014. Photo by Chris Lee, clee@post-dispatch.com

THE GUARDIAN

 Vickie Place is a row of single family homes built in the 1950s. They are modest but spacious, with gardens front and back, plenty of squirrels and a constant buzz from cicadas. The family of Michael Brown, the unarmed 18-year-old African American gunned down by police last Saturday, occupies a cream-coloured house with a peeling door, a broken bell and a tattered chair on the porch.
The teargas and screams from West Florissant Avenue, where mainly white police used military might to cow black protesters, did not reach Vickie Place, just a few blocks away. But a simple fact about the street, and those around it, sheds light on the police mindset: one by one, carload by carload, year by year, decade by decade, in an inexorable, remorseless exodus, white faces, faces like theirs, have vanished. The legacy, for the white officers supposed to police it, appears to be a forbidding, alien, territory. A land of the other. It might as well be Falluja.

 The spectacle of American police acting like an occupying army in the St Louis suburb of Ferguson has shocked and baffled outsiders, but there was an explanation, of sorts, in a sleepy, tree-lined street just five minutes' walk from the mayhem.
Vickie Place is a row of single family homes built in the 1950s. They are modest but spacious, with gardens front and back, plenty of squirrels and a constant buzz from cicadas. The family of Michael Brown, the unarmed 18-year-old African American gunned down by police last Saturday, occupies a cream-coloured house with a peeling door, a broken bell and a tattered chair on the porch.
The teargas and screams from West Florissant Avenue, where mainly white police used military might to cow black protesters, did not reach Vickie Place, just a few blocks away. But a simple fact about the street, and those around it, sheds light on the police mindset: one by one, carload by carload, year by year, decade by decade, in an inexorable, remorseless exodus, white faces, faces like theirs, have vanished. The legacy, for the white officers supposed to police it, appears to be a forbidding, alien, territory. A land of the other. It might as well be Falluja.

"The police don't like coming here," said Don Williams, 52, who moved to Vickie Place with his family in 2001. "It was majority white then. Now, almost all black." The absence of street lighting made everything pitch dark after sunset, intimidating patrols, he said. "We have break-ins but the police barely investigate. They're not worth nothing." 
 White flight is a familiar phenomenon in many countries but the use of armoured vehicles and sniper nests in the height of a Missouri summer has exposed the extent and consequences of segregation in America's heartland.For five nights, Saturday to Wednesday, the Ferguson city and St Louis county police departments betrayed hostility, incomprehension and fear as they confronted protesters, heedless that the militarised response had stoked anger and radicalism over Brown's death.

 Another factor was racial imbalance: only three of Ferguson's 53 officers are black (94% white, in other words) and only one of six city councillors is black – a product of disenfranchisement and anaemic political mobilisation in a city where two-thirds of the population is black.

 The separation of races should in theory be a fading anachronism given that a black man occupies the White House and black artists suffuse mainstream culture. But half a century after the civil rights movement triumphed, the dream of an integrated multiracial society in this sprawl by the Mississippi is largely dead. As black families moved to nicer areas, exploiting newfound freedom, white neighbours fled.

August 26, 2014

Timeline for a Body: 4 Hours in the Middle of a Ferguson Street


A makeshift memorial for Michael Brown on the spot on a Ferguson, Mo., street where his body lay for about four hours after he was shot by a police officer on Aug. 9. Credit Joe Raedle/Getty Images        

N.Y. TIMES

Just after noon on Saturday, Aug. 9, Michael Brown was shot dead by a police officer on Canfield Drive.
For about four hours, in the unrelenting summer sun, his body remained where he fell.
Neighbors were horrified by the gruesome scene: Mr. Brown, 18, face down in the middle of the street, blood streaming from his head. They ushered their children into rooms that faced away from Canfield Drive. They called friends and local news stations to tell them what had happened. They posted on Twitter and Facebook and recorded shaky cellphone videos that would soon make their way to the national news.
 
Mr. Brown probably could not have been revived, and the time that his body lay in the street may ultimately have no bearing on the investigations into whether the shooting was justified. But local officials say that the image of Mr. Brown’s corpse in the open set the scene for what would become a combustible worldwide story of police tactics and race in America, and left some of the officials asking why.
 
“The delay helped fuel the outrage,” said Patricia Bynes, a committeewoman in Ferguson. “It was very disrespectful to the community and the people who live there. It also sent the message from law enforcement that ‘we can do this to you any day, any time, in broad daylight, and there’s nothing you can do about it.’ ”
 
The St. Louis County Police Department, which almost immediately took over the investigation, had officers on the scene quickly, but its homicide detectives were not called until about 40 minutes after the shooting, according to county police logs, and they arrived around 1:30 p.m. It was another hour before an investigator from the medical examiner’s office arrived.
 
And officials were contending with what they described as “sheer chaos” on Canfield Drive, where bystanders, including at least one of Mr. Brown’s relatives, frequently stepped inside the yellow tape, hindering investigators. Gunshots were heard at the scene, further disrupting the officers’ work.
“Usually they go straight to their jobs,” Officer Brian Schellman, a county police spokesman, said of the detectives who process crime scenes for evidence. “They couldn’t do that right away because there weren’t enough police there to quiet the situation.”
 
For part of the time, Mr. Brown’s body lay in the open, allowing people to record it on their cellphones. A white sheet was draped over Mr. Brown’s body, but his feet remained exposed and blood could still be seen. The police later shielded the body with a low, six-panel orange partition typically used for car crashes.
Experts in policing said there was no standard for how long a body should remain at a scene, but they expressed surprise at how Mr. Brown’s body had been allowed to remain in public view.
 
It was typical, given the limited resources of the Ferguson Police Department, to transfer a homicide investigation to the St. Louis County police, a much larger force with more specialized officers.
According to police logs, the county police received a report of the shooting at 12:07, and their officers began arriving around 12:15. Videos taken by bystanders show that in the first minutes after Mr. Brown’s death, officers quickly secured the area with yellow tape. In one video, several police cars were on the scene, and officers were standing close to their cars, a distance away from Mr. Brown’s body.
 
Around 12:10, a paramedic who happened to be nearby on another call approached Mr. Brown’s body, checked for a pulse, and observed the blood and “injuries incompatible with life,” said his supervisor, Chris Cebollero, the chief of emergency medical services at Christian Hospital. He estimated that it had been around 12:15 when a sheet was retrieved from an ambulance and used to cover Mr. Brown.
 
Relatives of Mr. Brown said they were at the scene quickly after hearing of the shooting from a family friend, who had been driving in the area and recognized the teenager’s body. They said they begged for information but received nothing.
Louis Head, Mr. Brown’s stepfather, said the police had prevented him from approaching the body. “Nobody came to nobody and said, ‘Hey, we’re sorry,’ ” he said. “Nobody said nothing.”
 
 
Asked to describe procedures in New York, Gerald Nelson, a chief who commands the patrol forces in much of Brooklyn, said that as soon as emergency medical workers have concluded that a victim is dead, “that body is immediately covered.”
“We make sure we give that body the dignity it deserves,” Chief Nelson said.
 
St. Louis County police officials acknowledged that they were uncomfortable with the time it took to shield Mr. Brown’s body and have it removed, and that they were mindful of the shocked reaction from residents. But they also defended their work, saying that the time that elapsed in getting detectives to the scene was not out of the ordinary, and that conditions made it unusually difficult to do all that they needed.
 
“Michael Brown had one more voice after that shooting, and his voice was the detectives’ being able to do a comprehensive job,” said Jon Belmar, chief of the St. Louis County Police Department.
 
Francis G. Slay, the mayor of St. Louis, whose city did not have a role in the shooting or the investigation, said in an interview that his city had a “very specific policy” for handling such situations.“About 80 percent of the time, the body is generally taken away immediately,” he said, and if the body remains at the scene, “we’ll block off the area.”
He continued: “We’ll cover the body appropriately with screening or tents, so it’s not exposed to the public. We do the investigation as quickly as we can.”
 
Dr. Michael M. Baden, the former New York City chief medical examiner who was hired by the Brown family’s lawyers to do an autopsy, said it was “a mistake” to let the body remain in the street for so long.
“In my opinion, it’s not necessary to leave a body in a public place for that many hours, particularly given the temperature and the fact that people are around,” he said. “There is no forensic reason for doing that.”
The St. Louis County police declined to give details about what evidence investigators had been gathering while Mr. Brown’s body was in the street.
 
Typically, said John Paolucci, a former detective sergeant at the New York Police Department, crime scene investigators would work methodically.
If there had been a struggle between an officer and a shooting victim, the officer’s shirt would be taken as evidence. The police cruiser would be towed to a garage and examined there.
Detectives would want to find any shell casings, said Mr. Paolucci, who retired in 2012 as the commanding officer of the unit that served as liaison between the detective bureau and the medical examiner’s office.
Usually, the police conduct very little examination of the body at the scene, other than photographing it, he said.
“We might use vehicles to block the body from public view depending on where cameras are and how offensive the scene is, if something like that is starting to raise tensions,” Mr. Paolucci said.
 
Chief Belmar said that while he was unable to explain why officers had waited to cover Mr. Brown’s body, he said he thought they would have done so sooner if they could have.
As the crowd on Canfield Drive grew, the police, including officers from St. Louis County and Ferguson, tried to restore order. At one point, they called in a Code 1000, an urgent summons to nearby police officers to help bring order to a scene, police officials said.
Even homicide detectives, who do not ordinarily handle such tasks, “were trying to get the scene under control,” said Officer Rick Eckhard, another spokesman for the St. Louis County police.
Sometime around 4 p.m., Mr. Brown’s body, covered in a blue tarp and loaded into a dark vehicle, was transported to the morgue in Berkeley, Mo., about six miles from Canfield Drive, a roughly 15-minute drive.
Mr. Brown’s body was checked into the morgue at 4:37 p.m., more than four and a half hours after he was shot
 
 
 

August 25, 2014

Michael Brown Spent Last Weeks Grappling With Problems and Promise / Darren Wilson Was Low-Profile Officer With Unsettled Early Days


Brandon Lewis, right, says Michael Brown used his size to avoid confrontations.

N.Y. TIMES

Michael Brown, 18, due to be buried on Monday, was no angel, with public records and interviews with friends and family revealing both problems and promise in his young life. Shortly before his encounter with Officer Wilson, the police say he was caught on a security camera stealing a box of cigars, pushing the clerk of a convenience store into a display case. He had taken to rapping in recent months, producing lyrics that were by turns contemplative and vulgar.

At the same time, he regularly flashed a broad smile that endeared those around him. He overcame early struggles in school to graduate on time. He was pointed toward a trade college and a career and, his parents hoped, toward a successful life.

N.Y. TIMES

Officer Wilson’s childhood home in St. Peters, Mo. He has kept out of view since the fatal shooting of Michael Brown. Credit Richard Perry/The New York Times        

The intense focus on Officer Darren Wilson’s actions marks a jarring change for a man who, over most of his 28 years, had left a muted, barely noticeable trail behind. While protesters have marched nightly, a grand jury has begun hearing evidence, and supporters of the officer have raised more than $350,000 for him. Officer Wilson himself has vanished from public view, leaving his ranch home where letters on red, white and blue stars hung from a door spell out “Welcome” in a town southwest of St. Louis; he is believed to be under police protection.
Officer Wilson, who is divorced, was born in Texas but has spent most of his years in these suburbs that surround St. Louis, records show. Family members, friends, colleagues and a lawyer have mostly refused to speak publicly about him, yet those who do paint a portrait of a well-mannered, relatively soft-spoken, even bland person who seemed, if anything, to seek out a low profile — perhaps, some suggested, a reaction to a turbulent youth in which his mother was repeatedly divorced, convicted of financial crimes and died of natural causes before he finished high school in 2004.
 
After attending the police academy, Officer Wilson began work in Jennings, another suburb, in June 2009. Robert Orr, the former chief of the Jennings Police Department, said he had no recollection of Officer Wilson and had to call the mayor last week to jog his memory. “Sure enough, the mayor said he was one of ours,” Mr. Orr said. “That must mean he never got in any trouble, because that’s when they usually came to me.”
Yet Officer Wilson’s formative experiences in policing came in a department that wrestled historically with issues of racial tension, mismanagement and turmoil. During Officer Wilson’s brief tenure, another officer was fired for a wrongful shooting, and a lieutenant was accused of stealing federal funds. In 2011, in the wake of federal and state investigations into the misuse of grant money, the department closed, and the city entered into a contract to be policed by the county. The department was found to have used grant money to pay overtime for D.W.I. checkpoints that never took place.
 
In October 2011, he went to Ferguson, where he now makes $45,302 a year.
There, Chief Thomas Jackson has reported no disciplinary actions against him. “He was a gentle, quiet man,” the chief said. “He was a distinguished officer.”