Feature Article |
The Dead of Night
By Gregory Gilderman
"RAPE IN PROGRESS. A naked woman being raped is in the street screaming," the voice tells us.
We're back on Lehigh Avenue, zooming toward North 17th Street. There's no reduction in speed. You can tell Stephens really, really wants to get there in time, but good intentions and the driving skills of Jeff Gordon aren't enough. The corner is as empty here as it was at 13th and Lehigh.
From his in-car laptop, Stephens retrieves the address of the 911 call. We exit the car. There's a dead cat splattered in the street. Stephens knocks on the door. A woman, about 45, opens up.
"Everything okay, ma'am?"
"Yeah, you know, I saw this woman out here, and I just felt bad for her, so I gave her something to wear."
"What was it?"
"Some yellow striped pants. They're pajamas. And a blue shirt."
"Thank you," Stephens says, moving quickly back to the car, about to begin the search.
"One more thing!" the woman yells from the porch. "She said she don't want the police all up on her!"
Stephens looks at me.
"You heard that, right?" he asks. The look on his face says it all. You risk your life to bring some order to the chaos, and what do you get? Everyone is against you, even a naked raped woman who was screaming in the street.
Searching for the victim requires us to drive slowly, look intently down long, dark blocks, and scrutinize the stray groups of people who are out at four in the morning. All the while, we get The Stare. Do they know we're looking for a formerly naked woman who was raped and screaming in the street? No. They only see a white guy and a black guy in a cop car creeping along, giving them the once-over.
"Have you seen a woman in striped pants and a navy shirt?" Stephens asks two women. From the look on their faces, he may as well have asked, "Have you seen two Martians tap-dancing?" They shake their heads and move on.
"You know, our response time is really good," Stephens says. "But this is what we contend with. Even the complainants don't want help."
Before we move on, Stephens gets a call from Lieutenant Taylor. He wants to speak to me. We drive and meet Taylor on the side street where the white van was stopped and the shooter and an accomplice were arrested. An immediate arrest after a shooting is a relatively rare victory, but already Taylor has concerns.
"The victim was very cocky. He had an attitude. Now the issue arises, can we get him to pick out the shooter? If not, we have no aggravated assault case."
"What if the witnesses identify him?" I ask.
"The independent witnesses refused to talk, so that's down the drain. Our best hope is that we have the gun charge. These are the types of guys we're trying to get off the street. Normally it takes an investigation to find them, but this time we have everything. All we need is to take the shooter to the hospital and hear the complainant say, 'That's him.'"
"Will he?"
"I don't know. But we remember this guy. We've arrested him before. He has a record. Like I said, it's the same guys doing the same crimes over and over."
I ask if he can call the officers at the hospital to see whether the victim gave that identification. He pulls out his cell phone.
"He ID'd him," Taylor says a moment later, snapping shut his phone. "The shooter was 24. The driver was 29." I expect a look of happiness to cross his face, but it doesn't come. It seems the identification of the shooter might be a set-up for a more spectacular criminal justice failure.
"Okay, he ID'd them. But the next question is, will he show up in court? Will he go south on the stand?"
And there you have Philadelphia's homicide problem in a nutshell. A young black male shoots another young black male. The police beat the odds and nab the perpetrator on the night of the shooting, but their efforts may go to waste thanks to the fear or indifference of the victim. At no point has anything the police have done this night had any effect on whatever chain of events led to the shooting.
This may be what separates Philadelphia from cities where the homicide rate has fallen dramatically. New York and Los Angeles, for example, have removed portions of their police forces from 911 duty, largely in the service of achieving a single, critical objective: taking illegal guns from the street. Not by hoping they'll be returned through buy-back programs, not by holding anti-violence rallies and praying those guns won't be used, but by physically taking them from people who illegally have them in their waistbands, jackets and glove compartments. To understand the nuts and bolts of this, Philadelphia doesn't need to look to the great success of New York. It can turn west, to Kansas City.
We're back on Lehigh Avenue, zooming toward North 17th Street. There's no reduction in speed. You can tell Stephens really, really wants to get there in time, but good intentions and the driving skills of Jeff Gordon aren't enough. The corner is as empty here as it was at 13th and Lehigh.
From his in-car laptop, Stephens retrieves the address of the 911 call. We exit the car. There's a dead cat splattered in the street. Stephens knocks on the door. A woman, about 45, opens up.
"Everything okay, ma'am?"
"Yeah, you know, I saw this woman out here, and I just felt bad for her, so I gave her something to wear."
"What was it?"
"Some yellow striped pants. They're pajamas. And a blue shirt."
"Thank you," Stephens says, moving quickly back to the car, about to begin the search.
"One more thing!" the woman yells from the porch. "She said she don't want the police all up on her!"
Stephens looks at me.
"You heard that, right?" he asks. The look on his face says it all. You risk your life to bring some order to the chaos, and what do you get? Everyone is against you, even a naked raped woman who was screaming in the street.
Searching for the victim requires us to drive slowly, look intently down long, dark blocks, and scrutinize the stray groups of people who are out at four in the morning. All the while, we get The Stare. Do they know we're looking for a formerly naked woman who was raped and screaming in the street? No. They only see a white guy and a black guy in a cop car creeping along, giving them the once-over.
"Have you seen a woman in striped pants and a navy shirt?" Stephens asks two women. From the look on their faces, he may as well have asked, "Have you seen two Martians tap-dancing?" They shake their heads and move on.
"You know, our response time is really good," Stephens says. "But this is what we contend with. Even the complainants don't want help."
Before we move on, Stephens gets a call from Lieutenant Taylor. He wants to speak to me. We drive and meet Taylor on the side street where the white van was stopped and the shooter and an accomplice were arrested. An immediate arrest after a shooting is a relatively rare victory, but already Taylor has concerns.
"The victim was very cocky. He had an attitude. Now the issue arises, can we get him to pick out the shooter? If not, we have no aggravated assault case."
"What if the witnesses identify him?" I ask.
"The independent witnesses refused to talk, so that's down the drain. Our best hope is that we have the gun charge. These are the types of guys we're trying to get off the street. Normally it takes an investigation to find them, but this time we have everything. All we need is to take the shooter to the hospital and hear the complainant say, 'That's him.'"
"Will he?"
"I don't know. But we remember this guy. We've arrested him before. He has a record. Like I said, it's the same guys doing the same crimes over and over."
I ask if he can call the officers at the hospital to see whether the victim gave that identification. He pulls out his cell phone.
"He ID'd him," Taylor says a moment later, snapping shut his phone. "The shooter was 24. The driver was 29." I expect a look of happiness to cross his face, but it doesn't come. It seems the identification of the shooter might be a set-up for a more spectacular criminal justice failure.
"Okay, he ID'd them. But the next question is, will he show up in court? Will he go south on the stand?"
And there you have Philadelphia's homicide problem in a nutshell. A young black male shoots another young black male. The police beat the odds and nab the perpetrator on the night of the shooting, but their efforts may go to waste thanks to the fear or indifference of the victim. At no point has anything the police have done this night had any effect on whatever chain of events led to the shooting.
This may be what separates Philadelphia from cities where the homicide rate has fallen dramatically. New York and Los Angeles, for example, have removed portions of their police forces from 911 duty, largely in the service of achieving a single, critical objective: taking illegal guns from the street. Not by hoping they'll be returned through buy-back programs, not by holding anti-violence rallies and praying those guns won't be used, but by physically taking them from people who illegally have them in their waistbands, jackets and glove compartments. To understand the nuts and bolts of this, Philadelphia doesn't need to look to the great success of New York. It can turn west, to Kansas City.
 |
Change text size |
 |
Print |
 |
Email |
 |
Write a comment |
User comments
- No users have posted comments on this article.
