The real history of stop-and-frisk
The Police Department’s controversial use of the stop, question and frisk procedure has generated a tremendous amount of debate, with some accusing the NYPD of targeting young men of color and others saying that stopand-frisk has made dangerous neighborhoods much safer. Now there is a court action, with an apparently predisposed judge saying that a class-action lawsuit against stop-and-frisk can go forward.
As a former NYPD insider, I can see merit on both sides. But unlike a politician, I don’t need votes. I also don’t have to worry about promotions.
I am a retired captain who stood at that Compstat podium — where precinct commanders get grilled on crime stats — for four years in three different Brooklyn precincts. I know about the pressure to drive crime down, as well as about the animosity that pressure can breed.
But is stop-and-frisk a new invention? Not really.
When I was a rookie 31 years ago, we were taught that police have a “common law right of inquiry,” meaning we could ask questions about almost anything we see on the street. But unless there were factors elevating a situation to reasonable suspicion that a crime has been or is about to be committed, a person could choose not to answer and walk away.
However, if the cop could articulate reasonable suspicion of a possible crime, he or she had the authority to stop someone and ask questions. Still, if based on the subject’s answers, the suspicion level did not escalate to probable cause for an arrest, the person would be released immediately.
This was only a “stop-and-question.” The “frisk” part of the equation did not come into play except on two occasions: First, if possession of a weapon was suspected. Second, if reasonable suspicion of a possible crime escalated to probable cause to arrest for an actual crime based on facts developed after the initial stop-and-question.
That all changed in the 1990s. When Compstat was developed under then Police Commissioner Bill Bratton, high-ranking police officials widely incorporated the “stop, question and frisk.”
The NYPD also started to keep meticulous track of such stops through paperwork that was alien to us back in the day. Although the procedure had been on the books since the beginning of time, it was now embraced like a child holding a new toy on Christmas morning.
And it worked, with crime dropping during the Giuliani era. But, like everything else with Compstat, “if it ain’t on paper, it ain’t.”
When I was at that podium in the mid ’90s, captains had all kinds of enforcement numbers we could use as ammo to show the bosses how wonderful we were. Crime, though declining, was still relatively high, especially when compared to today’s numbers.
That changed in the new millennium, with crime falling to its lowest levels in decades. But we still had to show results. Stopand-frisk became a means for us to show that we were still fighting crime.
But to make that case, every single stop had to be recorded so a precinct commander could quantify his or her cops’ efforts in combating crime. That seemingly minor fact, in and of itself, obviously worked to increase the number of documented stop-and-frisks.
Notice that the “question” part was basically eliminated — and you’d be naive to think that was an accident. There is no doubt that stop-and-frisk has become more aggressive. That fact — combined with more accurate record keeping that has laid bare who was frisked and where — thus gave opponents all the evidence they’ve needed.
As one sergeant with 30 years of experience said, “You have to do the form because you need the number.” Of course, making such a justification to a young black or Hispanic kid who feels he is being harassed by the police is pretty close to impossible.
If the opponents win, the NYPD will be a victim of its own success — both in fighting crime and diligently keeping statistics.
It’s all about the numbers