Not many police chiefs are famous. But William Bratton, newly appointed
chief of the Los Angeles Police Department, has earned a national reputation
with his legendary resume. He was in charge in Boston and
then in New York City, as each went through its own remarkable crime-fighting
turnaround. In New York, serious felonies were down 33 percent during
his tenure, from 1994 to 1996. By the time he left the job to become a
much sought-after consultant, New York's murder rate had fallen to 984
a year, down from a high of 2,262 in 1990.
Bratton publicized his successes in a 1998 book, Turnaround: How America's
Top Cop Reversed the Crime Epidemic (Random House, 1998). That, along
with his subsequent success as a consultant to police departments around
the country, helped make him a star. Now Bratton brings his experience
and reputation to the LAPD, a department that has been caught in a demoralizing
downward spiral since the 1992 riots that followed the acquittal of four
officers who beat Rodney King. In recent years, under the watch of several
ineffectual police chiefs, the city has experienced rising crime rates,
raging gang violence, and widespread corruption in the police department's
anti-gang unit, called "Rampart." The City of Angels, which
recorded 658 homicides in 2002, is now the murder capital of America (Chicago
was second with 645, New York third with 580).
Reversing the negative trend may be an even bigger challenge than the
one Bratton faced in New York. "New York was the perfect storm,"
Bratton said in an interview with Blueprint. "All the conditions
were there in 1993 to make the turnaround possible." The economy
was beginning to roar, drug use was declining, more officers were on the
streets, and there was an institutional commitment driven from City Hall -- a
"broken windows" campaign -- to stop even small quality-of-life
crimes.
Los Angeles in 2003 presents a different picture. With the national economy
slumping, California faces a $35 billion deficit, and Los Angeles is feeling
the pinch. "We have very few resources," says Bratton. Los Angeles
has only 9,000 police officers, one per 409 residents. (New York, by contrast,
has 38,000 -- one per 209 residents.) When Bratton took office, his
goal was to raise the LAPD roster to 12,000 officers. But budget constraints
have forced him to abandon that hope temporarily. For now, Bratton and
his force must do their best to cover a geographic area more than twice
the size of New York City's five boroughs, while facing down gangs with
a combined membership estimated to be as high as 100,000.
"Gang violence is the principal propellant that fuels the crime
problems in the city and up and down the coast," Bratton says, warning
that the recent spike in Los Angeles' murder rate might get worse. "This
is just the tip of the iceberg in terms of its potential as a new problem."
To confront the threat, Bratton has announced a new offensive that calls
for creating teams of citizens, community leaders, law enforcement authorities,
prosecutors, and school district officials. Led by a newly appointed LAPD
gang czar, they will work together to develop intelligence and crime-fighting
strategies.
The new approach to gangs is emblematic of Bratton's broader effort to
lead an intense organizational transformation of the LAPD. Bratton wants
all his officers -- and the communities they serve -- to re-examine
the very role that police play.
"There are similarities between Los Angeles 2002 and New York 1993,"
he says. "Both are reactive organizations, accepting no responsibilities
for stopping crime."
It's a situation familiar to him from his days as a local beat cop in
the 1970s, patrolling the gritty streets of Boston's Dorchester neighborhood,
where he grew up, with an attitude that a cop's job was not to prevent
crime, but only to make arrests after crimes are committed. It's a reactive
model that Bratton calls "depolicing."
The reactive approach, Bratton claims, was partly to blame for the widespread
belief among crime-fighting professionals that a police force couldn't
do much to affect a community's crime rates. He declares the opposite:
"I embrace the community policing model, as opposed to the professional
model -- disengaged and aloof." In fact, Bratton's mantra today
is: "Police do count." He frequently uses the slogan to inspire
his troops and impress the politicians at city hall. "Police have
a role in addressing the cause of crime. Police can make a difference.
Police do count," he says.
Of course, it's one thing to say that police make a difference; it's
another thing entirely to get actual results and effect the change you've
promised.
Bratton built his reputation in part by demanding accountability from
his officers, especially precinct commanders. In New York, he required
commanders to keep comprehensive records on the latest crime patterns
in their precincts using a system known as CompStat -- a computerized,
statistical approach to crime-fighting accountability. Over time, commanders
whose precincts did not show improvement were replaced. "Working
with police officers, you have to give them discretion but hold them accountable,"
Bratton says. "You have to find a balance."
The Bratton formula. To create the conditions in which officers
can work most effectively, Bratton aims to reorganize the LAPD in much
the same way that he did the NYPD. In New York, the department was divided
into three critical units -- patrol officers, detectives, and narcotics
agents -- who failed to communicate effectively with each other.
Most of the violent crimes that detectives were busy trying to solve
were drug-related. But the patrol officers and detectives responding to
daily calls were not benefiting from the experience of narcotics officers
assigned to the same neighborhoods -- they were often preoccupied with
tracking fickle informants in hopes of scoring the Big Bust. "They
were off chasing the Kilo Fairy," says Pat Harnett, a 28-year veteran
of NYPD, who was a self-described "skeptical old-timer" when
Bratton arrived. He was won over, though, by Bratton's ability to bring
the three disparate units together, and return the focus of each of them
to the neighborhoods. "The best community policing officer you can
have is the precinct commander," Harnett says. "You've got to
change the paradigm." Bratton did just that.
Longtime Bratton friend and consultant Bill Andrews describes the results
in New York dramatically: "The localization of the narcotics division
[in the neighborhoods] was one of the most effective community policing
efforts ever undertaken."
The Bratton formula also calls for persuading the community to buy into
his reforms. "Police clearly can't do it alone," he says. In
New York, officers once seen by residents as adversaries now get out of
their squad cars and meet with community members to address concerns.
A new trust developed, and the NYPD has found friends among the city's
average citizens.
Bratton achieved that reversal in part by using the press to help get
the message out. He even appointed a former television news crime reporter,
John Miller, to be deputy commissioner of public information. (In Los
Angeles, he has hired Miller to head a new homeland security office.)
After that, Bratton spent a lot of time in front of the camera and once
appeared on the cover of Time magazine. Some accuse him of stroking his
ego and hogging the limelight. But others cite a more honorable motive
for his interest in publicity. They say he utilizes publicity to gather
support and bring serious problems to residents' attention. "It is
a way to engage his officers and the community," Andrews said. "He's
extremely good at getting up a head of steam behind key issues."
The final ingredient in Bratton's formula is fostering support from the
officers who must put his tactics into action. Bratton came into Los Angeles
saying, bluntly, "If you don't want to work in the department, get
the hell out." That ruffled many feathers, but the new chief has
since embarked on a goodwill tour. He has spoken openly with his officers,
dropping into precincts around the city, promising them the department's
public support and soliciting their ideas. "Police are a thoughtful
lot, but most people don't tap this resource," Andrews said of the
chief's willingness to embrace officers' ideas. "If there is one
thing that counts for his success, that's it. If you lose the street cops,
it doesn't matter what your policies are."
Independent consultant Joan Brody echoed Andrews' assessment: "He's
not afraid to support his officers and promote creative thinkers. That
style inspires people to do more."
Will the Bratton formula eventually spark another successful turnaround
for him to put on his resume? Los Angeles hopes so. As city
council member Jack Weiss said recently, "Bratton is the last best
hope."
