Neighborhood Intervention Stories, an MPT trainer shares her experience

I often hear us talk about "using the skills we learn in training in everyday life VS. using them during an intervention. I like to remind people that sometimes we do intervention as part of our everyday lives.....

Bus stop intervention

Leaving a 6 day training on nonviolent conflict intervention I came home to walk my dogs, then head over to help A. unload the van of training supplies. By the time I got in my car to head to her house I was far from at my best – tired, cranky, tired, soooo ready to be done with clean up … did I mention tired? you get the idea. So, I stop to get coffee.

Across from the coffee shop is a bus stop and as I’m pulling out I see that at this bus stop there are 3 people. Two women who are just wailing on this guy. Kicking him, punching him… screaming at him…he has his arms over his head and is more or less just standing there getting the shit kicked out of him.

It’s a busy street and I can not imagine I am the only one noticing this scene, but no one else seems to be stopping.

Now, of course, having just come from 6 days of nonstop “nonviolent conflict intervention”, I think… “You have got to be kidding me!… I can NOT deal with this now…could they not just wait and hold this little scene next week when I’m not so tired?”

But, I figure doing nothing would make me a big hypocrite so I pull up along side them, get out of my car and as I’m walking toward them call out the first thing that comes to mind – which is something along the lines of “What the hell is this, some kind of test. Now that I’ve been talking about conflict intervention and role playing it – we’ve gotta see if I can actually do it?”

Of course, they both stop hitting the guy to look up at this clearly crazy person who has just wondered into their scene and as the continue to stare at me as if I’m insane and clearly a big ol’ narcissist for thinking their issue (whatever it is) could have anything to do with me the guy gets up and runs off. I say good-bye, acknowledge that I may be loosing it just a little… that I do actually know the world doesn’t revolve around me, and tell them to have a nice evening, then return to my car to go unload the van.

Fight at the local McDonalds

I’m driving home one night and as I pass a small strip mall near my house I see 3 guys in the parking lot of the McDonalds. Two of them are beating up the third one. Now… if 2 people want to have a fair fight it’s one thing and I may or may not have intervened. Really – I just don’t know. But in this situation, it was defiantly a matter of 2 guys beating on a third guy. So…

I pull up my car next to them and say “ Sorry, I don’t mean to interrupt your male bonding experience here. But, I am hopelessly lost.” I then proceed to ask them for directions. (Directions, of course, that I don’t need – remember I live around the corner.) Suddenly, they are not fighting. The three of them are working together to get me to where I need to go! “Try this way” on says setting out a plan… “yeah, but that has the odd turn… she could try this” says another. “Thanks, I say” driving away. Now… I have no idea if they went back to their fight when I left. And I guess to some extent it doesn’t matter. If the guy getting beat up needed to get away I offered the option to do so…. I hope.

Two stories of intervention with the Police

1 ) I’m s’posed to meet someone to talk about Nonviolent Peaceforce for some research she is doing. I show up. She doesn’t. Walking back to my car I see a group of 3 young Latino men being stopped by the Police. Something in my gut tells me to hang back and pay attention, so I do.

The men – boys really – around 16 yrs old – either do not speak English or are pretending not to speak English. I don’t know why they’ve been stopped. But I do know, I can see, that they are not being treated well.

The cop is rough with the one kid, and while I cannot hear exactly what he is saying I can tell he is being detained. He is being cuffed and shoved harshly toward the police car. I step up, “officer” I start to say… the second cop comes over. He is shouting at me. He is telling me not to interfere with the arrest. He is telling me I can be arrested. He is angry. Maybe scared. “I am not interfering”, I start to tell him, “but I am witnessing, and it appears to me an excessive use of force is being used.” He continues to yell at me to move along. I continue to refuse – politely. I wonder what will happen. I continue to point out what I am witnessing. He continues to threaten. But the behavior improves. While still being taken into custody it seems the treatment is less harsh, less heavy handed.

I offer the 2 other boys my cell phone. They call home. I don’t know what they are saying. I silently curse myself for not speaking Spanish. I am not sure what they need. Will my continued presence be helpful or intrusive?

We somehow communicate that they want to go to the station, meet family, get their friend. I take them. I file a formal complaint.

Others arrive. I leave. I hear “Gracias” called after me. I turn, smile and we all wave.

2) I’m driving somewhere and I notice the police have pulled a car over. An African American man is the driver and sole person in the car. There are 4 white cops on the scene. It seems like a lot of police for a traffic stop and something in my gut tells me to stop so I do.

I pull my car across from them making sure I am visible to all parties. One of the cops comes toward my car. I put my hands on the steering wheel where he can see them and see I am not holding a weapon. He asks why I’ve stopped. “I live near here,” I answer, “I think it’s my responsibility to know what is going on in my neighborhood, so I’m just observing.” I brace myself for his defensiveness – I don’t get it, and I am reminded once again not to stereotype and jump to conclusions.

He asks me to please be sure I remain in the car, and returns to the scene. The other officers on the scene are looking in the trunk and back seat. Soon, the man is put into a police car and taken away with 2 of the officers. The other two stay behind with the car. The officer who spoke with me before comes over to my car again. He tells me they will be waiting there for the tow truck, and he thanks me for stopping! I am stunned. I thank him for his professionalism and leave to meet my friend wondering if I’ve done the right thing in stopping.