Question of Progress
City can’t progress with superficial answers
By Daniel Hahn
February 2022
As I retire after 34 years in law enforcement, I step away with many questions. Does the criminal justice system serve our community better than when I was growing up in Oak Park in the 1970s and 1980s? Is there more legitimacy today in the system? Have years of unrest, voter initiatives, legislation, police reform, lost lives, pain and anger created a better police department?
Yes, in some ways. But in other ways, the answers are sadly negative.
As many police agencies face unprecedented resignations, I have seen men and women in SPD uniforms remain determined to serve their city under the toughest circumstances. I have seen community leaders step forward, defuse situations and save lives.
SPD is more transparent than ever. Our research and development division brings innovation to training, equipment and policies. Unmanned aerial systems help separate officers and the community from potentially deadly encounters. Robust educational and experiential programs inform our training about implicit bias and history.
But the real measure of success is our level of legitimacy—the trust the community has in SPD and the entire criminal justice system.
All too often, we come up with relatively simple solutions to our problems. We order body-worn cameras and adjust how we define use of force. We expect great changes. The outcome? We watch officer-involved shootings on cameras under rewritten policies. But we don’t address the root causes or the community anger that erupts afterward.
None of this is new. After the Civil War, we outlawed slavery. But because we failed to examine slavery’s roots—racism, bias, power and the distribution of wealth—we continued to destroy lives and dreams. Slavery was perpetuated under Black Codes and convict-leasing systems during Reconstruction. The legacies endured.
When I was growing up in Oak Park, the city experienced a drastic increase in violence (93 homicides in 1993) and the “crack epidemic.” I witnessed a killing in front of my home. I testified in a murder trial as a teen.
But instead of addressing root causes of violence—poverty, housing discrimination, bias and lack of opportunities—we enacted the Violent Crime Control and Law Enforcement Act of 1994. We sent more people to prison. Our actions reduced violence. And they increased distrust of law enforcement in impoverished communities.
Now the pendulum has swung back, exacerbated by the pandemic. We have historic levels of releases from jail and prison, decriminalization of crimes and “zero bail” policies.
And here we are again. In 2021, Sacramento experienced 57 murders, highest since 2006. SPD seized more than 1,500 guns, a record. We averaged 37 calls a day for help with mental health issues. The city had 53 fatal collisions, the most in history.
Our divisive environment doesn’t allow a collaborative approach to remedy these challenges. Our self-righteousness, based on political affiliations, prevents collaboration. We speak and act without knowing.
Here are three examples I hear: There are no good cops. Black officers are race traitors. People who have been in prison can’t change their lives.
Here’s the reality: Some of the best people I know spent time in prison. I have seen police officers sacrifice everything for strangers. I am Black and a police officer and I love being both. I was arrested at age 16 for assaulting an officer and became chief of the department that arrested me.
We can’t continue to hurdle from one extreme to another, to “get tough” on crime and fill prisons, only to fall back a few years later, swing open the gates and fail to hold people accountable for their actions.
As I retire from a career I love, I reflect on the blessings that enabled me to rise to police chief in my hometown. I benefitted from a mother who ignored the common path and adopted me and raised me in Oak Park.
I benefitted from a community that collaborated to help raise me, had faith in me, celebrated my accomplishments and held me accountable when I fell short of my potential.
It can be done, but we must stop tearing each other down. We must stop dividing and demonizing others simply because we have different opinions. We must work together for the betterment of everyone.
I believe we can succeed. I saw Mary Jean Hahn do it every day.
Daniel Hahn retired in December as Sacramento police chief.
