Violence switches step in to help stop gun crime in their neighborhoods: NPR

The Red Fern Public Houses in Far Rockaway, Queens generate all kinds of memories for Queen Arroyo and what it meant to grow up here, few of them are good.

“Poverty. Pissy elevators. Pissy stairs. Violence,she said, her voice choking.

All she could think of was to leave. And she did for a while. But his mother still lived here. Friends too. The pull of family and community brought her back two years ago, she says, this time in an effort to help change what has kept her apart.

“It was homicide after homicide,” Arroyo says. “Yeah, that was it for me. I came here with indignation. Right indignation. I came here angry.”

Arroyo works with Rock Safe Streets, a violence interruption program that attempts to defuse arguments and stop cycles of retaliation. The organization is based in Far Rockaway, one of the historically underserved communities, which has always faced challenges that seem to follow such areas. Including gun violence. Like other communities across the country, this New York neighborhood has seen gun violence escalate during the pandemic, reaching at one point the highest number of shootings the city has seen in a decade.

Programs like Rock Safe Streets have become a favorite cause of politicians promising a reprieve. They have been around for decades and are currently in the limelight in cities like Chicago, Washington, DC and New York looking for ways to reduce gun violence. The idea is that people like Arroyo have better relationships with their communities than the police.

The question remains: are these programs working?

For a city like New York, which recently declared a state of “disaster emergency” due to the rise in gun violence, this is an urgent matter. Governor Andrew Cuomo, prior to his recent resignation, announced several initiatives to remedy the situation. One of them hires more violence interrupters, like the team that Arroyo oversees. One of their tasks is to be present in the communities, to listen and, when they hear of a dispute, to help with the mediation before it escalates.

Walking through the community, she speaks cautiously, but proudly telling NPR that Red Fern has gone almost a year, starting July 2020, with no reported shootings. She believes her group’s work helped keep shooting there, although local police could not be reached to provide numbers.

Research on the overall effectiveness of violence interrupters in the communities where they operate shows mixed results. Rock Safe Streets is modeled on The Cure Violence method which was developed in the aughts, in Chicago. The first research on this specific method, has found it to show promise in reducing violence in places like New York and Philadelphia. But experts warn that these programs are not a magic elixir for solving the problems that fuel violence: lack of economic opportunity, gun control, better housing.

And experts also say, these programs work best when combined with good community relations with law enforcement. But given the current strained relationship between communities of color and the police, many believe this is currently not possible.

“The community’s relationship with the police isn’t really one right now. No one in the community is going to report to a cop,” said Eugene Finley, a violence switch with Rock Safe Streets.

He’s better known here as Floss, and he says he can do the job the police just can’t do right now. It is a question of credibility. He says an outsider can’t step into a fight as quickly and efficiently as he can.

“I grew up here. I know the people who do that,” Floss says. “I can get close to a person who is about to shoot someone, before they shoot someone.”

One of his tasks is to prevent a shootout from escalating into a cycle of revenge. Floss himself spent 17 years in prison. This life experience means he can go freely where law enforcement can’t or won’t.

“There hasn’t been a day that I’ve been in this job that I’m not worried about,” he says. “I’m used to it. I grew up in it.”

This is important because he says he has noticed that law enforcement seems to be increasingly afraid of his community, and he wonders how they can protect something they fear.

In Highland Park, Queens, Natasha Christopher says she’s scared. Constantly.

“You know I haven’t had a good night’s sleep in nine years, since my son died,” she says.

When he was 14, his son, Akeal, was shot dead not far from here. His homicide was never solved. Christopher now works with a violence interruption program called The God Squad. She is sort of the last stop. When there is a fatal shooting, she is the family outreach specialist. And she co-hosts a support group.

“It’s a club that nobody wants to belong to,” says Christopher. “This is not a club I wanted to belong to.”

Christopher echoes what research has found so far. Abuse interruption programs can work. They must be properly funded. And better police-community relations are key to tackling violence. According to a recent exam from the John Jay College of Criminal Justice: “The judicial process must be seen as legitimate for community members to engage effectively with law enforcement in reducing violence… community safety is supported when justice systems operate transparently, openness, consistency and trust, and when police services are ready to deal with community complaints.

Most importantly, as she raises her two remaining sons, she feels a sense of urgency. “I not only fear that my sons will be shot by someone who looks like them, but I also have to fear that they will be killed by the police.”

On the days when it feels like a lot, Christopher comes to this park to relax. She watches the children play. She likes to watch planes from the nearby airport
“When I see planes I always wonder, are these planes going to a beautiful tropical island? That’s all I can think of. A beautiful tropical island. I would give anything to go to a beautiful tropical island. right now. “

But she says that at the time of her death, she promised her son, Akeal, that she would find out what happened to him that night. Plus, she has people, moms, to help out here.

So she knows she might never go.

This is the problem with violence. Once it hits you, it’s so hard to leave it behind.