Under the leadership of Commissioner John Barbieri, the Springfield police department has devoted more resources to proactive, community-based policing. The C-3 initiative, which fights gang activity through an intelligence and public engagement driven approach inspired by military anti-insurgency tactics, has won national attention for crime reductions in targeted neighborhoods.
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SPRINGFIELD -- Officer Dan Billingsley did not want to be known as the guy who picked up the snow cone machine.
Standing by the basketball courts at Springfield's Johnny Appleseed Park on a warm July evening, Billingsley conferred in hushed tones with his commanding officer, Sgt. Reggie Miller. Miller, the leader of a newly-formed community policing unit tasked with reducing crime in a volatile section of Forest Park, had scraped together department funds to buy the snow cone maker after a rented one proved a hit at the unit's last-day-of-school event in June.
Children who might otherwise have been skeptical of talking to police crowded around the officers, learning their names and building what Miller describes as the trust necessary to stop gang activity and violent crime. That reasoning, however, was not likely to play well in department roll call. Billingsley, assigned to get the machine from a Best Buy outside city lines, was seeking permission to call in his errand on his cell phone rather than the general police radio, where listening officers could put him in line for some serious ribbing.
"A city like this, and we're buying a snow cone machine?" Billingsley said. "We'd be the joke of the department."
It is that attitude that Miller, a broad-shouldered Springfield native with close-cropped hair befitting his military background, is trying to change. His hand-picked unit, an extension of the C-3 anti-gang squad that city leaders have credited with dramatically reducing violence in the North End, is made up of officers who understand the benefits of policing with a human touch, he said. And, according to Miller, it is a shift for a department which, like many, can be resistant to change.
"You've got to like talking to people," Miller said. "You have some people who just want to do their eight hours, respond to calls and go home. It does take a special person."
Under the leadership of Commissioner John Barbieri, the Springfield police department has devoted more resources to proactive, community-based policing. The C-3 initiative, which fights gang activity through an intelligence and public engagement driven approach inspired by military anti-insurgency tactics, has won national attention for crime reductions in targeted neighborhoods.
Miller's unit is an expansion of the C-3 program that began in April, targeting a jagged stretch of residential streets northeast of Forest Park. The sector, made up of narrow single-family homes and townhouses, was chosen for its high number of calls for service, juvenile delinquency cases and elevated crime statistics.
While the department's crime analytics cannot yet break down the numbers for the unit's specific area, the overall Forest Park neighborhood has seen three homicides, 43 robberies and 127 felony assaults this year, according to department crime statistics. Those numbers are on pace to exceed, or have already surpassed, the area's 2014 crime rate.
His unit's neighborhood is a particular hotspot, Miller says, and it will likely take a year and a half before the initiative's impact can be evaluated by the numbers.
Miller, an 18-year veteran of the force, said the department's first push for community policing in the 1990s was quashed by budget cuts in the early 2000s. The resurgence since Barbieri was appointed commissioner relies on street-level communication with residents, even as recent high-profile killings of unarmed people by officers across the country have led to greater scrutiny of how police interact with minority and lower-income populations.
"I walk around. If I see some kids playing, I'll stop and throw the ball around with them, talk to their parents. We're trying to really get involved in the community, build a bond of trust," Miller said. "We're just portrayed the wrong way and if that's all kids are seeing, that's all they're going to perceive. But if they see me and go, 'I know that cop, he came and played with us,' that changes things."
MassLive accompanied Miller on two recent shifts, and observed that philosophy in action. On one evening, Miller leaned against the chain fence of the basketball court at Johnny Appleseed Park and traded banter with a group of teenage boys playing pickup. They asked him to join the game, a challenge he begged off on account of his court-unfriendly uniform and work shoes. He pledged to come back, though - with the rest of his unit as his team.
On another, rainier night, Miller cruised his beat in his unmarked cruiser. A call came over the radio; officers had chased a drug suspect into an apartment building. When Miller arrived at the scene, he was not the only backup. A group of nearly a dozen officers stood on a streetside patch of lawn, waiting as the arrest was completed.
That kind of strength in numbers is now standard practice for arrests in densely populated areas, Miller said; on numerous occasions, officers have found themselves hemmed in by crowds they feared could become unruly as a suspect was taken into custody.
What Miller wants, he says, is communication, not tension. The department has detailed, block-by-block intelligence on where gang members live and where gangs operate, Miller said; what is lacking are the phone calls from residents reporting crimes as they are committed.
"You wonder why drug dealers never hang out on corners in Longmeadow?
Because people will call the cops on them," Miller said. "Gang members and criminals look for depressed areas where people don't say anything."
On Saturday afternoon, the unit's territory was quiet. Residents traveled in ones and twos, on bikes or walking with headphones on, through the small commercial strip on Dickinson street, past a laundromat, an autobody shop and an Italian restaurant, a sign reading "closed for the summer" hanging in its front window.
Ram Karki, a resident of Springfield's Hollywood neighborhood, bought the convenience store at the corner of Dickinson and Oakland Streets two and a half years ago and quickly encountered violence. On the evening of December 11, 2013, two men - one in a mask, one with his shirt pulled over the bottom half of his face - robbed his store at gunpoint while he and his wife were at the counter, Karki said.
"I just looked up, and he was putting a gun to her head," he said.
The masked man ordered him to the ground while the robbers went behind the counter and took money from the register. Karki said he reported the incident to police, but the men have not been apprehended.
The robbery fractured their sense of security. Karki considered buying a gun, but dropped that idea when his wife objected. Since the robbery they have kept their store locked during the evenings, only opening the door to trusted customers. It is not good for business, but it is a necessary safety measure, he said.
The man in this security footage still robbed Ram Karki's convenience store in 2013, Karki said. He now locks his door each night, only allowing trusted customers in after sunset.Courtesty Ram Karki
Since Miller's unit began patrolling the neighborhood, Karki has noticed and welcomed the increased police presence. He has intended to participate in the unit's weekly community meetings at the Italian Bread Shop, but is unwilling to leave his wife alone in the store during the evening.
"Right now, it's a little better," he said. "Cops can sit over there all day, I don't mind - I like it that way. Right now, more cops are coming this way."
Joshua Gonzalez, 20, lives in the North End but spends time in Forest Park, he said while walking through the neighborhood Saturday afternoon.
"It's been quieter - things have been more calm with the shootings and stuff like that," Gonzalez said. "I think they're doing a pretty good job, the police. There's always a trooper around here - every time I walk around there's a couple. There's more than there usually were."
Neighborhood resident Raiza Delvalle, 18, said she has not noticed much of a change since the unit was launched in April.
"They're always in their cop cars because there's a lot of violence here," Delvalle said. "They're always watching, but they don't stop to talk to us or anything."
Miller hosts weekly meetings with community members at the Italian Bread Shop on Orange Street. A crowd of residents fills a circle of folding chairs in the bakery's back room, backed by shelves of paper towels and plastic utensils. Miller listens to their concerns - trespassing and petty theft from one man's backyard, rowdy neighbors, door-to-door solicitations - and gives out information: recent crime statistics, the names of newly released violent offenders, advice on keeping doors and windows locked to deter burglars.
The audience at these meetings is receptive and growing, Miller said; when he first started holding them earlier this year, the members of his unit outnumbered regular attendees. Now, upwards of 20 people might show up on any given week.
But reaching the people committing the offenses is more difficult. The audience at the meeting skewed older, with most people there above the age of 35. The young men whose names litter the department's police reports, and who are both the most common victims and perpetrators of the city's 13 homicides this year, are less eager to talk with police, Miller said.
Springfield has a legacy, both historical and current, of tension between police and residents. The 2009 beating of black motorist Melvin Jones III by white former Springfield police officer Jeffrey Asher led to Asher's conviction on assault and battery charges, and a $575,000 settlement with the city. This April, a group of activists protesting police killings of black people shut down traffic at the X intersection in Forest Park; police arrested 15 protesters during the demonstration.
Reducing mistrust between police and residents will not be easy, Miller said. But he hopes that each conversation, referral to a social service organization or snow cone given to a neighborhood kid might count as progress.
"The more they see you when you're walking around, waving, chatting with the community, they think 'oh, he's not like those other guys,' " Miller said. "It's going to take us time to win them back. We're fully aware of that."