Tinted glass

Even in the wake of recent racial incidents, Police Commissioner Paul Evans does not want his department scrutinized by eyes he can't control. And that's just fine with the mayor.

by Ben Geman

In late 1997, the Boston Police Department cleared out of its drab stone Berkeley Street headquarters and moved into its new modern digs in Lower Roxbury, with a huge glassy façade facing the street.

That seems to be about all the transparency the department can handle right now.

The past several months have seen a series of racial scandals at the BPD, including the case of Valimore Williams, a black lieutenant who found a makeshift noose hanging from his motorcycle in April and had his radio jammed by a white officer this month, and the allegedly abusive and unnecessary arrest of Cape Verdean priest Filipe Texeira.

In response, a number of politicians and community leaders have called for outside oversight of the police department. Some have revived calls for a standing civilian review board; some, including the Reverend Eugene Rivers, are asking for a panel specifically to investigate internal racial issues such as the Williams case -- something like the St. Clair commission that reviewed police practices locally in the early '90s. The superior officers' union of the Boston Police Department also says it's time for an outside review that would look at racial issues.

But for now, Police Commissioner Paul Evans and Mayor Tom Menino are having none of it. Evans says that since coming to the department, he's done plenty to improve community-police relations and create a better dynamic between officers of different races. "The policies, the practices, the commitment to diversity, the commitment to a respectful work force for all, it's there," he says. "The commitment to making it happen is there, and we will aggressively do that." And that attitude is fine with Menino. "Overall," he says, "Evans has been able to handle it appropriately."

But even some who credit the police with progress say that impartial scrutiny could help improve the department's record on race relations. Dorchester resident John McGill, for example, says he believes the city's racial climate has improved since he moved here from North Carolina in the mid '80s, and he'd like to give the department the chance to work out its remaining problems on its own. Still, he says, if the Williams case is symptomatic of broader racial issues, then it's time to look elsewhere. "If there have been other instances, then there should be an outside force," he says. "If that's what they find, then Boston has more work to do."

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Paul Evans became commissioner in 1994, and by many accounts he has pushed to reform the department's culture -- including its racial tensions.

Both he and Menino say the department has aggressively hired both minority and female officers in recent years and has stepped up efforts to encourage racial sensitivity and tolerance on the force.

"I think Paul Evans has been very sensitive to these issues," says Menino. "Look at his record on hiring and promoting minorities, and it is truly outstanding. . . . He is working for change, and I think you have a better disciplined and trained and [more] diverse department than we have ever had."

Although the upper command structure remains overwhelmingly white and male, Evans points out that since he's been commissioner, 386 of the department's 753 new hires have been minorities or women. He has brought in a cultural-sensitivity training program to "inject moral decision-making into the recruitment curriculum," and he's provided hundreds of superior officers with classes in respect and civility.

In the eyes of some black leaders, Evans has gained even more credibility by working with the community -- for example, by bringing in community leaders to help with the department's strategic planning. The Reverend Ray Hammond of the 10 Point Coalition, one of several religious figures who met recently with Evans, came out saying he's not in favor of a new review commission -- yet. "The clear message that has to come from the department," he says, "has to be that harassment will not be tolerated." But he's willing to wait and see whether that message comes through. "A lot will depend on how the present situations are responded to," he says.

The Massachusetts Association of Minority Law Enforcement Officers is taking a similar approach. "We are trying to work with [Evans]," says MAMLEO spokesman John Wells, "and I can tell you this: if that breaks down we will look at different avenues. But right now we are trying to work internally within the department."

That's fine with the commissioner, of course. Police aren't famously happy to have outsiders looking over their shoulders, and Evans -- not surprisingly -- has rejected calls for an outside evaluation and responded to recent events mainly with internal measures. After the Williams case broke, for example, he announced a new "committee on fairness and professionalism" to address the climate within the department.

"Racial problems are a problem everywhere," he says. "There is racism in the US, in Boston, and unfortunately there may be some in my police department, but that's no different than any other organizations."

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Actually, though, it is a bit different. Police carry guns, for one thing. And right now, relations between police and the community are a hot topic, as a result of both negative and positive trends.

Nationally, the issue of racial profiling -- in which police use race as one of the criteria in determining whom to stop or search -- has brought a scary side of police practices to the attention of a wider audience. And atrocities such as the torture and beating of Haitian immigrant Abner Louima by New York City police have become flashpoints for alarm over cops' abuse of the people they are supposed to protect.

At the same time, though, police procedures are attracting attention partly because crime is down. During high-crime periods, says Northeastern University criminology professor James Alan Fox, "people are thinking more about personal safety than the ethics of policing. When crime is low, people are more likely to look at how a police department is operating."

In Boston, that reassessment is yielding more than just a call for an expert review panel. The recent incidents have also led some, notably State Senator Dianne Wilkerson (D-Roxbury) and City Councilor Charles Yancey, to say that perhaps it's time to revisit the idea of a civilian review board, an organization independent of the police departments with the power to investigate citizens' complaints against officers.

Right now, the city has no independent review board. Instead, there's a commissioner-appointed body called the Community Appeals Board. It cannot conduct independent inquiries; if a case against police is not investigated to the satisfaction of one of the parties, all the board can do is ask that the BPD's internal-affairs department take another look. That's significantly less public oversight than most large cities have, according to Samuel Walker, an expert in civilian review of police at the University of Nebraska's criminal-justice department. "It's very, very weak," he says. "Boston is one of the few big cities that does not have something at this point . . . some type of meaningful citizen oversight into the complaints process."

Dianne Wilkerson, who has filed a bill to compel police to compile statistics on racial profiling, says that type of civilian oversight is badly needed at a time when problems in the department are adding to a "rapid erosion" of trust in police.

"It really does seem to be one of those things where you peel away the initial coating and there is a real mess going on," she says. "I think they are in a very, very serious state here."

Menino, however, is not interested in a civilian review board, and the pressure to institute one has been fairly limited. Ray Hammond, who supports civilian review, says he detects no "groundswell" of support for the idea. And bringing civilian review to fruition takes "a sustained grassroots effort," says Michael Kozu of the Police Practices Coalition, a local group that works on police-accountability issues.

To Kozu, that lack of widespread effort in Boston is unfortunate. What happened to Michael Cox, a black policeman badly beaten in 1995 by other officers who mistook him for a criminal, could easily happen to someone else, he believes. "People are concerned that if officers of color, black and Latino, are getting unequal treatment in the department, how is that translating to the public?" he says.

"You know and I know they cover things up," insists William Murray, a 54-year-old substance-abuse counselor who lives in Dorchester. Williams does believe officers' behavior toward civilians has improved -- but still, he says, "they overstep their bounds a lot."

In the absence of new scandals and broader support for civilian review, any new layer of oversight seems unlikely in the near future. For those who don't fully share Menino's professed confidence in Evans and the programs he's implemented, that's bad news.

"As much as I would not like to see an outside review, unless someone comes up with a better idea, I would go with it," says one black officer, a Roxbury resident on the force for about 14 years, who spoke to the Phoenix on condition of anonymity.

"I'd like to think we can handle our own business, but all too often that does not happen."

Ben Geman can be reached at bgeman[a]phx.com.