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Let's partner for all of it. Learn more at edwardjones.com. Good morning. I'm Jane Pauley, and this is a special edition of Sunday Morning. After a painful year that's brought the issue of police reform in America to center stage, we're spending this morning looking behind the badge, examining issues surrounding law enforcement in America. While there's no way we can explore every issue of concern in these next 90 minutes, we'll certainly be trying our best. Hearing from the experts, the critics, and of course, the police themselves. Ted Koppel begins our look at policing in America. Nothing makes life more difficult for good cops than a bad cop. There are people that should be doing other things. They should not be in the line of work that they're in.

Many police departments, perhaps even most, are doing what they can to weed those people out. As we've seen, every single department's one video away from disaster. The view is a never-ending battle. From the street.

It's tough. Ahead on Sunday morning. Our search for answers this morning will take us near and far with a look at state-of-the-art policing both in this country and abroad, as Seth Doan will explain. We'll go on patrol this morning around the world, examining policing and its alternatives.

John Blackstone is on the streets in San Francisco. Having a mental health crisis is not a crime. Lucy Kraft shows us community policing the Japanese way.

This whole floor is just for umbrellas? And in Europe... It would be murder in Europe to allow an officer to shoot somebody just because they're standing there with a knife in their hands. Some novel ideas from the world of law enforcement later this Sunday morning. Few people know more about policing in America, both the issues and some possible solutions, than Bill Bratton, former police commissioner of New York City.

He'll be talking with our Mark Whitaker. Hey, fellas. How are you? How are you, sir?

Good to see you. Bill Bratton climbed the ranks, from rookie in 1970 to running the police departments in three of America's largest cities. And he is sounding an alarm. I would argue being a cop today in America is tougher than probably any other time going back to the early 70s.

This is if we're just marking time. A top cop's perspective on policing, ahead on Sunday morning. Lee Cowan will introduce us to a policeman who is also a pastor, a man wearing two hats with one singular vision. I'm just around the corner, so call me anytime. Iowa police officer Edgar Rodriguez embodies Midwest nice.

Is that a deal? But he's no pushover either. I do give them tough love, and the truth is the truth. And they need to know that I know and that I see them and that I expect more of them.

That's because he's also watching them. You won't have to say, man, I shouldn't have said that. Oh, I wish I wouldn't have done that. From the pulpit. The police officer who's also a pastor, coming up on Sunday morning. We'll have those stories plus commentary from loved ones of police officers and loved ones of victims of police. Plus thoughts on policing from Steve Hartman and more. All on this special edition of Sunday morning, June 6th, 2021. And we'll be back in a moment.

In a moment. They keep the peace, apprehend the criminal, investigate wrongdoing, and respond to emergencies large and small. Our police wear many hats. But perhaps more than ever, their actions are being called into question. Our senior contributor, Ted Koppel, looks at one of the most difficult jobs in America. Norman Rockwell had this way of capturing what was best about America. The runaway locked in the image of a little boy's trust in and hero worship of a cop.

That was 1958. Even today, you'll still find people picking up an officer's tab for lunch, just because. It happens quite often, quite often. Lieutenant Kami Mertz is a watch commander for the Clay County Sheriff's Office in the northeastern corner of Florida. What do they say? They normally will come up and introduce themselves and just let us know that they live within our county and let us know that they appreciate what we are doing. And then they'll usually pay it without even telling us. Officer Adam Deming, he's a 13-year veteran with the police in Charleston, South Carolina. In his case, it was a haircut.

One of the barbershops that I go to in the area that I am assigned, actually the last two months, I've had some stranger pay for my haircut. Because? Just because.

I'm not 100% sure. I didn't know who they were. I guess just out of respect. One of them, I didn't even get to shake his hand.

He had disappeared before I finished my haircut. Well, keep up the good work. I appreciate it. So these small gestures of appreciation still occur, and they happen in all parts of the country. I appreciate that very much.

Petrie Speight is a patrol officer in Montgomery County, Maryland. A couple of weeks ago, someone had bought me a breakfast to say thank you. Really? Yeah. You will get that. You definitely will get that. Good.

Yeah. That must make you feel. It gives you a glimmer of hope that, you know, whether they say it or not, people still want you there, and they're aware you're there, and they want to thank you in some way. It seems counterintuitive just a year after George Floyd's killing, but public trust in law enforcement has actually gone up over that year. A USA Today Ipsos survey last March showed 69 percent of Americans trust police to promote justice and equal treatment of all races. That's up 13 percent. Even so. You said a lot of your colleagues now are talking about considering quitting.

Yes. Why? Just because of the, so much of the anti-police sentiment, not being treated well, those kind of things are just discouraging people from wanting to stick around. Things have just changed the way people view us, and the way they view our role in society and our jobs. When you talk about the way people treat you, what do you mean? It was always there before, it was a little bit, not as much, but nowadays people tend to come at us more with an antagonistic tone. There's no more respect for authority or respect that they weren't there to help you or to resolve a situation. People just come at us with total anger from both sides.

Now you're facing the double whammy. You're a black cop, right? So you're getting it from both sides. Yes. It's hard because viewing me as another black African American, they see me just as the uniform, just as a police officer. Do you get a feeling of resentment from other African Americans where they're saying, come on, how could you? Yes.

Called names, everything. Instead of kind of appreciating that they're seeing another face in law enforcement that looks like theirs, I'm still a traitor, an Uncle Tom, you name it. I'm it. Before I was a cop, I was a young African American male. Senior Lead Officer Dion Joseph has been with the Los Angeles Police Department for 25 years.

God bless you too. Still am, relatively young, but back then it was the same thing. I was only exposed to the negative. I grew up in the Rodney King era. I joined an activist group that espoused the same things that we're hearing today. The music I listened to, the movies I watched, everything was geared toward telling you that police officers were evil. But the difference between myself and the rest of the community is, I was one of the few that stepped across the line and saw the other side. And what I saw on the other side was the vast majority of officers are decent human beings. But yes, there is a negative exception that we all need to work hard to try to root out. And I think we're trying to do that. Over the years, the LA police force has had a bad rap as far as racism is concerned.

That's not going to strike you as a news bulletin. Well, I take the position that we've evolved. We're not the department that we were in the 1960s, 70s, or even the 90s. If you went to a roll call today, you wouldn't see just blonde-haired, blue-eyed white guys anymore. You would see Hispanics, Blacks, people from the LGBTQ community, people from all different faiths and walks of life.

What are you seeing on the street? Do you get the sense that people recognize and appreciate the changes you're talking about? Well, I would say prior to the pandemic, we were seeing that. And then what happened in Minneapolis, that horrible tragedy with George Floyd. So a lot of people just ended up making up their own minds that all police are bad, that all police are inherently evil. And that's something that we're trying to combat as we speak. On the other side of the country, at a high school on Johns Island, part of which falls within the city limits of Charleston, South Carolina, local cops show up for a monthly community circle.

But right now, if he put his hand on my shoulder and I'd be like, yo, what's up with you? School resource officer Adam Deming with the Charleston Police initiated the program after the death of George Floyd. So when you start seeing police coming around, you're like, oh, what's going on? Tell me, what's the biggest issue as far as that community appears to be concerned? So inside of the school, they trust me, they trust the officers that I bring in. But outside of the school walls, they don't know if they can trust someone who isn't me or who isn't one of the group that they've been able to have these open dialogues with.

And that's the question, well, how do we bridge that gap? To stereotype them as automatically bad people when they put their uniform on is just wrong. These meetings are helpful and well-intentioned, but they're no match for examples of police misconduct captured on a cell phone video and distributed worldwide on social media.

From my standpoint in the school, I feel like sometimes I'm taking two or three steps forward in the right direction and gaining the trust of more of my students and more of the community. And then an incident happens, whether it be local or whether it be nationwide, and it knocks me back. Six years ago, North Charleston police were at the center of a national firestorm when this video went viral. A 50-year-old African-American, Walter Scott, was shot in the back while running away from police. He'd been stopped for having a non-functioning tail light. You had a situation in your community that got national attention. What was the reaction? I've been told not to comment, I guess, on the Walter Scott incident. That's what I'm just being told.

Sorry. The city of North Charleston reached a six and a half million dollar settlement with Walter Scott's family. The white police officer who killed him is serving a 20-year prison sentence. This isn't because of one incident. This is a bunch of incidents that have happened that are now easier to understand or see because they're literally recorded. Patrick Skinner is a detective in Savannah, Georgia. I don't speak for any department, but I know that there are many, many, many police officers that get it right, and I'm certain that there are departments that get it right.

But as we've seen, every single department in every city is one video away from disaster. At an age when many cops are considering retirement, Skinner, who's 50, has only been on the Savannah police force a little more than four years. Before that, I worked with a security consultancy out of New York, but before that I was a CIA case officer for about seven and a half years, only left to take care of my dad who was dying of Alzheimer's, and I came back home. Skinner was born in Savannah. I remember leaving here as a child, and I probably never thought about race because I was a white southern kid, so I had the luxury of never thinking about race. And then right now I'm a white southern cop. I am literally the least persecuted person on the planet. I'm aware of this. When people dismiss race, that means they've never been the victim of racism.

I'm honestly afraid to get out. Take the recent case of Army Lieutenant Caron Nazario in Virginia, who was held at gunpoint and pepper sprayed during a traffic stop. You had a young African American man in uniform, soldier, polite, calm, and yet he was pulled out of his car. How do you explain that to your nephews? I suspect there has to be a part of the conversation that says, you don't get away with the same thing that a white kid your age does. And that's, you have to come at that right off the bat, and there's no mixing words with that. It's going to be different, and I try and encourage them to do the same thing. Be polite, be respectful. That military gentleman, he was being respectful and polite.

The officer still did not treat him in a way that I would treat people. There are people that should be doing other things. They should not be in the line of work that they're in. You ever think of quitting?

I have not thought of quitting. For me, it's one of the things where if I didn't stick around to do this job, who is going to take my place? We're living in a world in which cops are taking early retirement. Can you relate to that?

Absolutely. And it's disheartening to hear police officers across the nation leaving, quitting, and retiring so early, when right now, more than any other time in history, their communities need them. But I'm not angry at them for it, because I understand exactly how they feel. Many times, police officers are made to be the tip of the spear for systemic failures, like homelessness, like mental illness, like the school systems. When the system fails, guess who they call to deal with? The police.

And they have to. Ours is what Patrick Skinner refers to as this 9-1-1 nation. When you call 9-1-1, unless your house is on fire, the police are coming. So it doesn't matter if your dog's loose, your car, the mechanics didn't fix it properly, you're in a minor car accident, your mailbox was hit, your husband's beating you, you're shooting, all these things. At every stage, the police officers are coming. There is nothing else but the police.

And so for a long time, well, up to right now, we the police use that kind of as a realistic excuse, because it is true. We are not social workers. We are not dog catchers. We are not mechanics.

But we have to be during that 9-1-1 call. We are actually responding to systemic failures. And we get blamed because we are the tangible form of government that people can say, bad government, look at what you're doing. So I think these systemic failures give society the perception that we failed. No, we are responding for the most part to failure.

They're not just failing the community, they're also failing us as well. More than a thousand people a year are killed in police shootings in this country, by far the most among wealthy nations. We ask our Seth Doan to report on policing in Europe to see if there are lessons worth learning. Get down on the ground. You're going to get tased. The examples are devastating, sometimes deadly, and certainly familiar.

Patrick Warren senior was killed by a police officer in Texas earlier this year after his family phoned for psychiatric help. I'm going to shoot you. I'm going to shoot you. Shots fired, shots fired, shots fired.

God damn it, man. I told him to lay on the ground. In Salt Lake City last fall, Lyndon Cameron, a teenager with autism, was shot multiple times by police responding to a 9-1-1 call from the boy's mom.

Show me your hands, show me your hands. The teen survived. Walter Wallace Jr. did not. He was mentally ill and in crisis in Pennsylvania last October when a family attorney says his brother called 9-1-1.

Put the knives down now. They were sent into a situation ill-prepared. They didn't have the training and they didn't have the tools to do the job effectively. Philadelphia police, who say Wallace was armed with a knife, shot and killed him.

The only justice that can come out of this is full reform. That push for reform prompts comparisons to countries where these deadly encounters are far less common. How different is policing in America from Europe?

Oh, it's like night and day. Lawrence Sherman is a professor of criminology at the University of Cambridge in England. If somebody doesn't drop a knife when an officer tells them to, even if they're not threatening somebody, the police can shoot and kill them. It would be murder in Europe. Are you saying the law in the U.S. is on the police officer's side and it's the reverse in Europe?

No, it's not. I would say that the law in the United States goes to extraordinary lengths to justify police preemptive use of shooting. Sherman notes that while U.S. police are quicker to use deadly force and kill far more people per officer than those in Europe, more guns on U.S. streets mean law enforcement faces more threats. In fact, police in several European countries including England, Ireland and Norway do not carry firearms while on regular patrol. It really helps to have a disarmed population and you can't blame the American police because they don't have one. But policing, he explains, is also not as strictly regulated in the U.S. Look at Derek Chauvin, the officer who killed George Floyd in Minneapolis. He had more than a dozen misconduct complaints and he was training other officers. You would not have a field training officer with a very bad disciplinary record in the English police system.

That's inconceivable. How would you describe policing in America today? In complete chaos.

How is it chaotic? Because we have 18,000 different police departments. We have 50 states with 50 different minimal standards for training and recruitment. Maria Haberfeld is a professor of police science at John Jay College of Criminal Justice in New York. She feels many police are willing but not ready to do their job because of insufficient training. In the U.S., the average police academy runs 17 weeks, whereas in Europe there's Norway Police University. Three years. Finland, police university, three years. National police forces. Germany, between two to three years.

What's the effect of this lesser training? Are we going to see people pushing back against the enforcement and the quality of enforcement that they're receiving? Public outrage followed the suffocation death of Daniel Prude at the hands of police in Rochester, New York. After family members say they dialed 911 to report he was suffering a psychotic episode. According to a recent survey, police in the U.S. spend more than 20 percent of their time responding to people with mental illness. Sweden, facing similar problems, developed a mental health ambulance. What happens when there's a call a police unit is dispatched and also your mental health ambulance is dispatched? Exactly. Andreas Karlborg explains their service works in part because health workers have access to medical records that police do not. If you would talk to the police department in the United States, I think most of them would agree that they have to deal with these cases and this should really primarily be dealt with by trained health care professionals, not the police.

Calls for reform in the U.S. are growing louder, but in a country with roughly 18,000 police departments, the hurdles to reform are structural and systemic. Hi, podcast peeps. It's me, Drew Barrymore.

Oh my goodness. I want to tell you about our new show. It's the Drew's News Podcast. And in each episode, me and a weekly guest are going to cover all the quirky, fun, inspiring, and informative stories that exist out in the world because, well, I need it.

And maybe you do too. From the newest interior design trend, Barbie Corps, to the right and wrong way to wash your armpits. Also, we're going to get into things that you just kind of won't believe and we're not able to do in daytime television, so watch out. Listen to Drew's News wherever you get your podcasts. It's your good news on the go. Losing a child in a fatal police encounter, Mona Harden's pain is still very real and very raw.

She shares her thoughts with us this morning. I'm sorry. I'm scared.

I'm your brother. These were some of my son's last words before he was killed. On May 10th, 2019, my son Ronald Green was tortured to death by Louisiana State Troopers in Monroe, Louisiana. My son Ronnie was tasered, punched, and killed by white officers. They shackled Ronnie's wrist and ankles, pepper sprayed him while laying face down, and left him moaning for more than nine minutes as they washed and wiped his blood from their hands and faces while he struggled to breathe, bleeding from their beating.

Then the officers bragged to each other about what they did. When medical assistance finally got there, Ronnie was limp and unresponsive. He was loaded into the ambulance, cuffed to the bed rail without any administration of oxygen or aid. After my son was killed by these cops, the call came. The Louisiana State Police lied to me and told me that he died in a car crash. They hid the body camera footage from the public for more than two years. I saw my son Ronnie murdered at the hands of those troopers.

There's no way you can look at the body camera videos and not see that. I wish I could tell you that these officers have been convicted of crimes they did that night, but they have not. I wish I could tell you that justice has been served for my Ronnie, but it has not. No one has been held accountable for my child's death. We need these officers arrested for what they did that night. We need them to be indicted for this inhumane and unbelievable act of violence. If there's no accountability, deaths like Ronnie's will just continue. How many black men, women, and children will be killed by the police before we make a real change?

How many black men, women, and children do we have to watch get slaughtered by white cops on camera? Ronnie was a father, a brother, an uncle, a friend to many. He was loved and taken too soon.

Our family will never ever be the same. I will never give up, never give up this fight for his justice. Ronald Green's family has filed a wrongful death lawsuit against the Louisiana officers involved in this incident. Union Parish Deputy Sheriff Christopher Harpan has denied wrongdoing. Attorneys for others named in the suit did not comment.

The Louisiana State Police deny withholding evidence from the public and state and federal investigations into the death of Ronald Green are ongoing. Thousands of homeless people can be found on the streets of San Francisco and many other American cities, some of them grappling with mental health issues. John Blackstone looks at a pilot program aimed at helping both the homeless and the police. San Francisco's roughest neighborhoods can seem dominated by the homeless, the mentally disturbed, and those openly using drugs. Don't you need more police on the street to change that? But San Francisco's Mayor, London Breed, is cutting the police budget.

We got to look at things differently. The challenges that people face are not what they used to be and a police response doesn't solve all of these issues. So now in San Francisco, many calls to 911 no longer bring armed police officers.

How you doing today? Instead, dispatchers send what the city calls a street crisis response team trained to deal with mental health issues. Stephanie Cheery, a behavioral therapist, is on one of those teams. When someone is experiencing a mental health crisis, especially psychosis, it can look scary to somebody to see a person who's talking to themselves or yelling into the sky. It's scary, you call the police.

And now you can call and ask for us too. In 2019, San Francisco police answered more than 50,000 calls related to mental health. In our city and I think throughout the nation, a lot of extra jobs and tasks have just been given to law enforcement because there's nobody else.

Fire Captain Simon Pang is in charge of the crisis response teams whose members come from the city's health and fire departments. They do not carry guns. People living in the streets often have a history of complex traumas and law enforcement, somebody with a gun, can be very triggering and potentially escalating for someone like that. So far this year, nationwide, more than 50 people with mental illness have been shot and killed by police. One study concluded that almost 25 percent of fatal police encounters involved mental illness. Having a mental health crisis is not a crime and it's not necessarily a public safety issue. So having our team here to be able to respond to those non-violent mental health calls is critical to free up the police to address what are actually public safety concerns. As well as a mental health expert like Cheery, each crisis response team will have paramedics like Richard Platt and Leslie Fong and one member like Michael Marchiselli. He's called a peer counselor because, well, he's been there, done that. Yeah with somebody who says do you have a do you have a license or a degree?

I think the streets and drug addiction have been my degree. There'll be limits to what we can do when it comes to our personal interactions. Michael doesn't have some of that.

He is able to use his gut in a way that we usually can't. You look pretty good. Thank you. Right now?

Thank you. It wasn't always quite like this recently? No, actually it was the opposite. Earlier this year Jermaine Reeves was living on the streets of San Francisco's Tenderloin district. In desperation he sought help from one of the street crisis teams. They found him a place to live.

It was a godsend and it was right on time and, you know, it was the first people who actually listened to me. He says he would never go to the police for help. Like if a police shows up right now you guys wouldn't think anything of it. My heart would start beating fast. I would wonder like what what are they over here for?

I would start looking around to see if it's some other black people like, you know, it's just not a good situation that ends for people that look like me. With police reform now an issue across the country, several cities are developing programs like the one in San Francisco, Mayor London Breed. So what this program is doing is taking away some calls that used to go to the police, taking some duties away from the police. Is this defunding the police?

Well I don't like to label it. The issue here is we have to think about policing differently than we ever have before, especially in light of what we see the data shows us. The goal is to meet people where they are, to develop rapport, to have a conversation, to treat them like human beings no matter what they're going through, and to make sure that you build trust within seconds and that can make all the difference. So some stories just don't get the attention they deserve, which is where our Steve Hartman comes in. As we've seen this morning, police lines make headlines. The actions of some officers front page fodder. But there are other back page stories. Stories I have personally told over the years about officers who go above and beyond.

And although these stories are far less touted, they are equally reflective of the men and women who serve. These are the officers who take time to play basketball with the neighborhood kids, mow grass for senior citizens, and give rides to people in need, either home from work or much further. A couple years ago, Officer Jeff Turney responded to a call in Glendale, Arizona.

Your family's concerned about you? This 94-year-old man was about to drive himself 2,000 miles to Florida. Turney shut that down.

All right, you ready? Yep. Then took a week of vacation to see he got there safely. You got it, buddy. Then there's Brian Grigsby and Troy Dillard of Little Rock, Arkansas who found an Alzheimer's patient out wandering.

Be a white male by the name of Melvin Amrine. I mean he was pretty adamant. He wasn't going home until he got those flowers. Flowers? That's what he wanted. He wanted flowers for his wife because tomorrow was Mother's Day.

So instead of driving the man right home, they took him to a shop and even helped pay. We had to get those flowers. We had to get them.

I didn't have a choice. I also met Pittsburgh Detective Jack Mook who came across these two brothers at a boxing gym. Mook says they were being abused and neglected by their foster parents.

They have had it as worse as any other kid that's ever lived in the city of Pittsburgh, living conditions-wise. Really? And that just, I had enough of it.

So this bachelor cop adopted them. You're Mook, right? You happy? Good.

Now you're gonna go home and cut my grass, right? And finally, Denver police officers Monique Sedberry and Alicia Martinez who were called to a school one day. This was one of the tougher calls for us. His teacher had called 911. Saying?

Saying that he was being bullied and he wanted to end his life. Not only did they help Victor Horan in that moment, they formed an everlasting bond. So how often do you guys see each other? Often. He's like our family.

He's like our little brother. Is it helpful to you that they've stayed in your life? Yeah. Every time I wanted to talk to them, they would answer.

They'd be there? Yeah. This is what's possible when a police badge is worn over a loving heart. These are the results when officers choose to draw their most disarming weapon.

Compassion. Here's a number you may not have heard. By one account, 26 police officers have been shot and killed so far this year and it's only June. Each leaves behind loved ones whose grief never ends.

Emilio Miyares is among them. I was seven years old when my dad, Hialeah, Florida, police officer Emilio F. Miyares was shot and killed on November 6, 1986. My parents were high school sweethearts.

So even at such a young age, seeing the heartbreak of my mother was difficult. I grew up overnight and became the man of the house with a new mission to take care of my mom and my sister. My dad wanted to help people and lost his life doing it.

He was trying to catch a thief who instead of obeying the law, stood over him with a gun. My dad put his hands up and said, wait, wait, I have kids. The guy pulled the trigger and changed our lives forever by taking my dad's. The hardest part is knowing those were my dad's last words.

Growing up without a father was hard, but I don't know any different. I've mentored other surviving children who never even met their parent or were too young to have memories of them. My sister is one who was too young to have many memories of our dad. Her memories are through the stories our family and dad's friends share about what an incredible person he was. Every time an officer dies in the line of duty, I think about the young surviving kids whose lives are changing in such a tragic way.

I'm a father now and my middle daughter is about to turn seven. I can't help but think about the love my dad felt for my sister and me in that moment. I represent over 58,000 law enforcement survivors who have lost a family member or co-worker in the line of duty. That's over 58,000 people whose loved ones should have come home safe after doing their job.

That's what people need to remember. Law enforcement officers are doing their job to serve others and they want to come home safe through their spouse, children, parents, siblings, family, and friends. Can you imagine leaving for your job every single day and knowing there's a chance you are telling your loved ones goodbye for the last time?

I wish I had a few extra minutes to tell my dad how much I loved him and to give him one last hug. Over more than 40 years, Bill Bratton has led police departments in Boston, New York, and Los Angeles. Mark Whitaker speaks with a man some call the architect of modern policing in America.

The tourists are returning to Times Square, a welcome sign for New York City and its former top cop, Bill Bratton. It's so clean. He's about the cleanest I've seen it, which is nice.

But not everything he sees or hears is nice. He's having a good time for himself, but in the meantime, I don't know about you, but he's annoying the hell out of me. Bratton, who led police departments in Los Angeles, Boston, and twice in New York, hey fellas, how are you? How you doing, sir? Stops to chat with a couple of officers. We haven't met before, have we not?

Did you get my speech actually for the academy graduation? You say that cop is the face of the government. It's the face of the state.

It's the most visible and the one that has probably the most power of any individual in government is that cop on the street. They're walking the beat, just as he did more than a half a century ago. Much has changed, but not everything.

I would argue being a cop today in America is tougher than probably any other time going back to the early 70s. They're feeling not appreciated. It's a frustrating time for them. So many of them are leaving the profession.

That's not all that troubles him. Bratton is one of the leading architects of modern policing, whose reforms and innovative approaches lowered crime and, he says, bolstered the bond between the public and the men and women who serve and protect. The changes in the profession over the years, the reforms, have been phenomenal. But it's as if for 50 years we're doing nothing, that we're just marking time.

And that's my frustration. In his new book, The Profession, Bratton fears much of what he helped create is crumbling. We have a national crisis. We have 50 states, 3,600 counties. God knows how many cities and towns. We have 18,000 police forces.

And we have, unlike many other democracies, we have very few national guidelines. There were even fewer when Bratton was a kid in the white, working-class Boston neighborhood of Dorchester. At nine years old, he was already dreaming of a life in law enforcement. This is your police.

This is the book I checked out of the Boston Public Library every chance I got. He joined the force in 1970. Patrolman badge 1190. Bratton says a problem then is still a problem now, a lack of preparation. My training was about six to seven weeks before I was given a gun and the blue uniform put out in the street. But the training now should really, I think, be expanded to a minimum of a year. Just think of the power that we're putting into the hands of a young man or woman, the power to take a life.

Bratton quickly rose through the ranks, becoming commissioner in 1993 when he embraced the concept of community policing. The American police working as partners with American citizens and the government will get the job done. It's three P's.

It's very easy to understand. Partnership. Work with the community. Two, the problems of the community, big and small. And three, what is the goal? Prevention.

Deal with it in a way you solve the problem so it goes away. I, William Bratton, I, William Bratton, do solemnly swear. A year later, Mayor Rudy Giuliani lured him away to stem the crime wave sweeping New York. Very tough to work for. Very Machiavellian in many respects. But whether you like him or not, he did change the city for the better in many respects in the sense that he made it safe.

Bratton says broken windows policing, cracking down on quality of life offenses, and CompStat, a computerized crime tracking system, all played a part. The turnaround landed him on the cover of Time Magazine. His boss wasn't happy. And the person who was doing the story wanted the photo and he said, we have the opportunity to do it with just you or you can ask the mayor.

And I thought about three seconds and said, let's do it with just me. And so it ended up, this was basically going to be my exit song. I want to talk very bluntly to you. The citizens of this city need you need you back in those streets. In 2002, he was appointed chief of police in LA, a department plagued by racism and brutality. While there, he met a black community organizer named Alice Harris, known as Sweet Alice.

She really helped me to understand so many of the black issues in LA. And she says to me, Chief, you know why we like you so much? And I said, oh, sweet Alice, why is that? You see us, you really see us. That's the highest accolade I've ever received.

So that's a great story. But why do so many black Americans not feel seen by the police? Because they're not.

They really are not. Bratton returned to New York in 2014. We will all work hard to identify why is it that so many in this city do not feel good about this department that has done so much to make them safe. Six months after he was sworn in, an officer put a fatal chokehold on Eric Garner, an unarmed black man selling loose cigarettes outside a Staten Island storefront. This is a memorial that's been put up in memory of Eric Garner. May his soul rest in peace. Garner is saying, I can't breathe.

I can't breathe. Eleven times. The idea of trying to take him down just the two of them, and both of them were smaller than Garner. Garner was very, very big. And effectively it was just a bad tactic, and it ended up in a terrible tragedy. Garner was selling loose cigarettes, which wasn't legal. He was a big black man. But that didn't mean he deserved to die. Correctly.

In terms of, George Floyd didn't. So often in these struggles that, particularly over minor events such as the sale of Lucy's, nobody deserves to die at the hands of the police. But it happens.

Happens a thousand times a year. Along with the killing of Michael Brown in Ferguson, Missouri, Garner's death sparked nationwide protests, fueling the Black Lives Matter movement that was reignited again last year with the murder of George Floyd. I have a mantra, cops count, police matter. The individual action of a cop, the collective action of the police matter. So, Derek Chauvin's actions as an individual cop, look at the significance of that action. He did so much damage to the American police profession, unrivaled, damaged the profession around the world. Bratton supports many reforms that have been called for since Chauvin's murder of Floyd, including mandatory police body cameras and limits on qualified immunity, which protects police from criminal charges if they use deadly force in the line of duty.

But he rejects the most radical buzzword. One of the reasons I'm so frustrated with the hashtag Defund the Police. You need to refund the police. What I'm hoping coming out of this bill in Congress, the George Floyd bill when it comes out, is that it will effectively force government to spend resources on the essential medicine to fix this thing. And police are the essential medicine.

That's the reality. But also, doesn't history also tell us that every time we see one of these surges in violence, it sort of gives everybody an excuse to back off and to not engage with reform? That's the learning process I hope that we have finally come to embrace that out of this terribly tragic year that we understand the importance of. We can deal with race. We can deal with crime. We can deal with the other issues that cause so much fear.

We know what to do about this. Ultimately, that is the optimist in Bratton, convinced that positive change remains possible. So if you were a kid today, like you were starting out.

Don't we always say that, huh? In Dorchester, thinking about a career in policing and what you could achieve, what would you tell them? I'd still go into the business. It's a tough profession now, tougher than I think any time in my 50-year history with it. But it's still a profession if you get it right, you can get so much right. Bratton, who is married to Ricky Kleeman, a legal contributor to CBS News, now works as a security consultant in the private sector. He's retired from the profession, at least for now. I wish I was 10 years younger to get back in the game. You're still hungry. You're like another whack.

That's the expression, never say never. Japan is one of the safest countries in the world, and its police seem to keep it that way while almost never firing a shot. Lucy Kraft goes on patrol with the Tokyo police. The essence of Japanese law enforcement is here at the Koban, or police box. Besides more than 1,000 police stations, Japan operates 6,000 Koban and an equal number of smaller rural posts blanketing every corner of the country. Close to half of the nation's cops are assigned to one. Officer Maika Suzuki said the Koban puts police at arm's reach in a crisis.

Dialing 911 seems easy, but sometimes victims are too scared to call from home, or maybe they're not sure if their problem is really an emergency. So they come down to the Koban. Koban operate like many police stations, but their responsibilities are vast, extending far beyond handing out traffic tickets and traditional law enforcement. Cops have evolved to become a kind of one-stop shopping for problems large and small, whether it's giving street directions, finding a hotel room, lending car fare to cash-strapped commuters, or even patiently listening to marital spats. But by far the most popular police service is running what could be the world's biggest, most efficient lost and found. Oh my God, this whole floor is just for umbrellas? Last year, the Tokyo Police Department collected nearly 3 million items, including almost a quarter of a million umbrellas, from public transit and parks, each carefully tagged and logged for easy retrieval.

There are five more floors here, stuffed with everything from baby strollers to dentures. Not to mention cold cash, as Tokyo resident Jake Adelstein found. After he absentmindedly left an envelope of cash at the ATM, a good Samaritan brought it to police, who returned it to Adelstein the next day. Police are very well paid here, so they have an incentive to do their job well. That's their task.

That's part of getting along with the community. If someone brings something to the police, it gets logged in a file, and then sent up to headquarters, and that thing is tracked until it's returned. Koban cops go to extraordinary lengths to learn their beats.

They're required to regularly visit every business and household in their districts twice a year. The ostensible purpose of this visit is handing out anti-crime flyers, and here, chatting with the owners of a coffee shop about their security cameras. With Officer Sota, we can say what's on our mind, said the owner. He's really like a neighbor. Instead of dialing emergency when we need help, we just call him. Visits like this, while extremely time-consuming and somewhat intrusive, are a gold mine for cops, yielding tips about suspicious activity and building community contacts. Police presence here is so low-key and ubiquitous, American law enforcement experts have compared Japanese cops to mailmen. Indeed, the cops seem to be just about everywhere. On guard at local festivals, helping kids across the street. Gently, if somewhat ineffectually, hurting mobs at a Halloween street party.

And stopping traffic for a Black Lives Matter protest. Police departments create their own cuddly mascots. They produce cartoon civics lessons for kids. At least one police force in western Japan boasts a squad of dancing officers, all reinforcing the image of the casual, friendly, and ever-helpful cop. No wonder police are consistently rated one of the most trusted institutions in Japan. Every officer carries a.38 caliber revolver.

But thanks to strict gun laws, firearms usually stay holstered. Instead of lethal force, officers train intensively in self-defense skills for restraining offenders, called taihojutsu, the art of arrest. We've heard about something called the art of arrest.

What is that? It is a set of techniques for keeping ourselves and others safe. I think of it as a martial arts for police. Our job is to protect not just crime victims, but crime suspects as well. On this night, police catch a lawbreaker in the act and head off in hot pursuit. After a furious sprint, they get their man. A taxi driver nabbed for making an illegal turn. Later, the cops quietly break up a brewing fight.

As the evening wears on, they head out on patrol. An inebriated man mocks them, but the cops remain poker-faced. Don't drink too much, one said.

Not everyone is a fan. Critics say Japan has too many cops and that officers don't have enough to do. Japanese citizens essentially police themselves, say observers like Jake Adelstein, a former crime reporter. Japan isn't a religious nation, but it is a superstitious nation. And I really believe that people believe that there's karmic payback for what you do, good and bad. And I think that's a powerful tool in making people behave. In 2020, Good Samaritans handed in nearly 30 million dollars to Tokyo police.

And last year, for the sixth year in a row, Japan had the lowest crime since World War II. Cementing its reputation as heaven for cops. He's a police chief who believes in the power of prayer. And therein, Lee Cowan tells us, a parable.

Officer Edgar Rodriguez was just beginning its 12-hour shift when the call came in. Today I have a follow-up with a boy. How are you, man? He's having a hard time and he keeps walking off. A little runaway needing a little reset of his compass. Is that a deal? Fist pump? All right, come on, let's go back to the car.

It was a high-level meeting. I don't know if you have this one. Rodriguez isn't only a beat cop, he's also the police chief here in Moville, Iowa. About a half an hour outside of Sioux City.

It's a town surrounded by corn and soybean fields. Pretty pastoral setting, to say the least. Being a police officer is more of an extension of my ministry. That's how you see it. Yes, that's exactly how I see it.

A ministry in every sense of the word. Hey, Hannah, how are you? Where are the boys? Are they inside already?

They're coming. Oh, okay. Chief Rodriguez? As long as we can feel good about the way that we live our lives in front of God, then that's all that really matters. He's also Pastor Edgar at Moville's New Hope Evangelical Church. How do you think being a pastor makes you a better police officer? So, as a pastor, my focus is serving people. If I can't love the community, love the people, then I won't be able to serve them well. His congregation includes his wife and kids, who all understand the risks, especially at a time when police officers are often viewed with more skepticism than pride.

I've been praying for you a lot, for the both of you. But Pastor Edgar is a reminder that it doesn't have to be that way. Is there a place for compassion and understanding in today's policing? Absolutely.

Absolutely. It's not about taking people to jail every day. It's about how we can help a person every day. Moville is home to only about 1,800 people. Two gas stations, no stoplights. It's quaint, yes, but hardly quiet. We haven't had a homicide, thank the Lord, in our town in a long time. But that said, it's not Mayberry.

It's not Mayberry. Thank you. Very good, yes. Get on the ground! Get on the ground! For any of you wondering if Pastor Edgar has what it takes to be Officer Rodriguez, his body cam footage should answer that. Spread your hands out!

Spread them out! He's a former Marine who came to this country from Mexico, a proud heritage that sometimes gets thrown in his face. Every now and then I forget that I'm different. My color is different than most of my community.

Every now and then somebody will remind me. In a not-so-kind way? Yes, in a not-so-kind way, but those are far and in between. He got the Chief's job about a year and a half ago, and he's been determined to change the image of law enforcement, starting with what he wears. For a small town, I just feel it's a little too tactical, too military. I think we need to be a little softer. Really? What message does that send, do you think? Well, it says that we're approachable.

Hi, how are you today? When he went to visit 78-year-old Bonnie Holtz, he was there to help catch the bad guys that robbed her of $1,400. So the best thing that we can do, the best way to protect ourselves is to know what to do. But he was also there to offer an ear, a shoulder, and maybe a prayer. I love you, Bonnie. Lord, give her strength.

Give her strength and courage, Father God. Amen. Yes, ma'am.

Thank you. Yes, ma'am. I'm just around the corner, so come on in.

I'm just around the corner, so call me any time, okay? It's not all hugs and kisses. He's arrested plenty, hauled them off to jail.

But it's about a 30-minute drive to get there. And he uses that time to try to understand who he's arrested. I want to know what they're going through.

And that's how usually my conversations start. What made them get to the point where now they're in handcuffs and they're in the back of my car and they're going to jail. It's not what they did, but why they did it. Why they did it, right. What got them there. That's how I met Pastor Edgar. Is by being arrested.

Yes. I didn't even know he was a pastor until he told me. Once Agnes Boho Boy found out that he was a pastor, she opened up. His squad car became more of a rolling confessional. You could have just made that drive in silence. I could have. Still done your job. Yes, I could have. I don't think I would have felt very good about myself if I had just done that, knowing that I had an opportunity to help somebody, to encourage somebody. It doesn't take much. What we're going to learn today that David did is just learn to wait.

Agnes now rarely misses one of his Sunday sermons. So have you been arrested since? Nope, I've changed my, I changed my life right there. Well, you have a wonderful day. To be fair, small town policing does have a kind of built-in intimacy.

But for Edgar Rodriguez, it is that intimacy that makes the twin callings of pastor and police officer too personal to ignore. Are there any lost causes for you? No, no, there can't be. See, that's, that's something I can't think, I can't think that way. I don't necessarily believe that there's a limit that once you, you, you know, you've failed 10 times and we should just forget about you. You're always going to fail.

I think we should just keep on trying because that's what God did. A message he hopes is shinier than his badge. All right, buddy. Can I get a hug with all this gear? All right, man. I'm very proud of you, okay?

Keep working hard. Bye. Bye. Thank you for listening.

Please join us when our trumpet sounds again next Sunday morning. This is Intelligence Matters with former acting director of the CIA, Michael Morell. Bridge Colby is co-founder and principal of the Marathon Initiative, a project focused on developing strategies to prepare the United States for an era of sustained great power competition. The United States put our mind to something we can usually figure it out. What people are saying and what we kind of know analytically and empirically is our strategic situation, our military situation is not being matched up with what we're doing. Follow Intelligence Matters wherever you get your podcasts.