The heat index was already climbing into the 90s when Indianapolis Police Chief Rick Hite took the podium at a rally outside the Monument Circle landmark Friday.
Sweat was dripping down his face and neck, but Hite didn’t seem in a hurry to get off stage.
He was there to read a letter from the mother of a slain police officer – a white man shot dead by a young black man with an assault rifle during a late-night encounter that went quickly bad.
Hite was there to pull some hope from the tragedy. The parents of Officer Perry Renn had called for a “Day of Unity” to kick off a month of events connecting police with the people they’re charged to serve and protect.
Hite was more than ready to oblige. Only by getting to know each other, he said, can officers and citizens trust each other and work together to prevent violent crime.
“You cannot solve problems in a crisis,” he said. “We must come together before crisis occurs and build relationships, so we’re no longer suspicious of one another.”
As Hite spoke, a black minister in the crowd nodded in affirmation. The Rev. Mel Jackson is a fan of Hite and works with him through a group of clergy who go into volatile neighborhoods to diffuse conflict before it escalates.
“He’s a people person,” Jackson said. “It’s not unusual to find the chief in the midst of some of the toughest guys in the street, just talking to them.”
What a contrast that image is to what unfurled in Ferguson, Mo. After an unarmed black teenager was fatally shot by a white police officer, a string of protests – some violent – sparked a national debate about race and the militarization of police.
It helps that Hite is black.
But that’s just part of it.
Born and raised in Gary – a city where 70 percent of black boys under age 5 live in poverty – Hite felt called to policing like one is called to the ministry.
“I feel blessed to be able to do God’s work,” he told me. “He helped me find my niche on Earth.”
Hite spent 32 years as a Baltimore police officer before coming to Indianapolis. He took over as chief after a scandal; his predecessor resigned amid the mishandled investigation of an officer suspected of drunk driving when he struck and killed a motorcyclist.
Hite is a proponent of what he calls “preventative policing,” at a time when the city is on pace to have its worst homicide rate since 1998. That means earlier invention in troubled neighborhoods and with children at-risk for becoming violent criminals because they’ve witnessed or been victimized by violent crime.
And under Hite, police are working with ministers and funeral directors to ensure families of homicide victims get counseling to quell feelings of revenge.
Hite echoes the call from U.S. Attorney Eric Holder for more preventative policing: “We can’t arrest and prosecute our way out of the problem,” Hite said.
There’s no guarantee the approach will work. But Hite knows there’s a high cost to continuing as is. Prosecutors are seeking the death penalty in Officer Renn’s case. Apart from the stakes involved, the decision estimated to cost about $1 million for taxpayers because of the lengthy trial and appeals involved.
“I hope we don’t lose this opportunity to do something different,” Hite. “We’ve had enough damage and carnage.”