Over and over again, people have been calling St. Paul police about a 55-year-old woman.
One family, who didn’t know the woman, reported she came to their home repeatedly and accused them of kidnapping and raping people inside, according to a March police report. In September, another person told police the woman left nine minutes of irrational voicemail messages after his business fixed her vehicle. Some reports recount the woman yelling racial slurs at people.
In a meeting last week, two St. Paul police officers told the supervisor of the Ramsey County crisis team about the various reports on this woman, whom they believe lives in her vehicle.
What could they do next time the police received a complaint about her? Could Ramsey County mental health professionals join officers to see about getting her help?
As St. Paul police look for better ways to handle the mentally ill, they rely more and more on Ramsey County mental health professionals. City police recently applied for a $250,000 U.S. Department of Justice grant to create a Mental Health Response Team pairing officers with crisis workers.
“When people aren’t sure what to do, who do they call? They call the police,” said St. Paul police officer Jamie Sipes, who is also a crisis negotiator. “With people who have mental health issues, sometimes the police aren’t the right answer, but that’s who responds.”
Collaborating with mental health professionals can get people the resources and help they need, he said.
The effort comes as police locally and around the country examine training and policies about use-of-force, particularly against those suffering from mental illness.
THREE OUT OF 10 DEATHS
About 30 percent of the people fatally shot by police in Minnesota in the past decade have been diagnosed as having a mental illness or having exhibited signs of mental illness, according to a Pioneer Press analysis.
For Kathy Czech, a retired nurse who lives in Minneapolis, it was the constant news reports from around the country that spurred her to action.
“I kept thinking, ‘This shouldn’t be happening like this,’ ” Czech said. “It was people committing suicide by cop and people with depression or schizophrenia, who are particularly vulnerable because of communication issues, that would do something that appeared threatening to the officers and then they would get shot. At first, I went into it thinking, ‘The cops are horrible,’ and then I realized that these policemen are not trained social workers and they want to go at home at the end of the day, too.”
Czech and her brother, William Czech, began researching what police departments were doing around the country and found out about the co-responder model. The two started a group, Safety Triage and Mental Health Providers, or STAMP, and are urging police departments around Minnesota to consider pairing officers with mental health professionals.
INCREASE IN POLICE CALLS, TRAINING
St. Paul police responded to nearly 6,000 calls in the last two years involving emotionally disturbed individuals or vulnerable adults.
Those numbers don’t capture all such cases and occurrences have been on the rise, said Mary Nash, an acting senior commander who spent 20 years as a crisis negotiator. She is leading the department’s work with Ramsey County mental health workers.
Across Minnesota, 94 of 101 police departments surveyed about a year and a half ago by the Minnesota Chiefs of Police Association reported an increase in mental-health related calls over five years. For about 20 of the agencies, the calls increased more than 50 percent, said Andy Skoogman, the association’s executive director.
As a result, police departments have been seeking to train their officers in crisis intervention. About 70 of 100 Minnesota police chiefs said their departments are providing the training in some form, according to a survey currently underway, Skoogman said.
In St. Paul, about one-third of front-line patrol officers have been certified in crisis intervention. The goal is to train all patrol officers, the department has said.
If St. Paul received the Justice Department grant, some of the money would go toward crisis intervention training. There would be additional, intensive training for a smaller number of police officers who want to become the department’s mental health officers.
Overall, the grant would fund planning and implementation of a Mental Health Response Team.
The aim is for specially-trained St. Paul officers and Ramsey County crisis team members to respond together to 1,000 dispatch calls involving people with mental health concerns each year. The team also would plan home visits for 60 people whom police are called about most often, with the intent of offering referrals for services and building rapport.
“Right now, police mostly end up getting involved when people are in deep crisis and then sometimes we’re taking them, maybe forcibly if they will not go, to get help because that’s what the situation evolves to. … If we can meet somebody before the crisis, we can maybe reduce the amount of times that we have a negative encounter,” Nash said.
The grants to start a Mental Health Response Team are competitive — DOJ typically receives 150-170 applications and provides funding to 35-39, according to the agency. A decision about grant recipients is expected in August.
EFFORTS MOVE FORWARD
St. Paul police are “not sitting back and waiting” for the grant, Nash said.
“People are popping up on our radar and officers are saying, ‘How can we have a better response for this person?’ and we’re doing the best we can to come up with a plan to follow up,” she said.
That was why two officers, Sgt. Mary Brodt and Officer Marshall Titus, met last week with Brian Theine, Ramsey County crisis team supervisor.
They are among a group of officers who have volunteered to “dig a little bit deeper in mental health calls,” Nash said.
Brodt and Titus took police reports to the meeting with Theine and told him about a handful of people whom officers have been called about, often repeatedly.
The officers didn’t know if the people in the reports had a diagnosed psychiatric condition, but were aware they had made delusional statements and sometimes frightened others with threatening or erratic behavior.
In some of the cases, the officers and Theine discussed making advance arrangements for officers and crisis workers to head out together and talk to the individuals or their families about mental health services.
For the 55-year-old woman who police have repeatedly been called about, they knew finding her would be more difficult because she is apparently homeless. If they get another call about her, they are aiming to have officers call for a crisis worker to respond with them, Brodt said.
DULUTH’S ‘EMBEDDED SOCIAL WORKER’
One police department in Minnesota has been taking a different approach to mental health calls for the past year.
As far as Duluth police officials know, they are the first in Minnesota to have what they refer to as an embedded social worker in the department.
Ona Filipovich, a St. Louis County worker, has been following up with people from Duluth police calls officers feel may need social services.
“One of the things she does the best is connecting with people,” said Lt. Chad Nagorski, the police coordinator of the program.
Last summer, someone called 911 about a man wandering around Duluth’s Canal Park and expressed concern that the man was lost. Officers tried to talk to him.
He wouldn’t give officers his name and was not coherent. Police thought he needed help, but were concerned that trying to get him to go with officers would turn into a struggle, Nagorski said.
Enter Filipovich. She went to the park and the man’s mood changed when he saw someone not in uniform.
Filipovich sat and talked to the man. He told her his name, and she contacted his family. Filipovich found out he had dementia and mental health issues related to it, Nagorski said. The man’s relatives came to get him.
Duluth police believe the program is successful, though it’s difficult to show statistically, Nagorski said. “How do you quantify that, if she had not intervened and helped a person, that means we don’t get five more police calls?”
SLOWING THINGS DOWN
In May 2015, then-St. Paul Police Chief Thomas Smith attended a Police Executive Research Forum conference with other law enforcement leaders around the country about “re-engineering use of force.”
PERF’s recent research and recommendations have focused on officers responding to individuals with mental illnesses, addicted to drugs or who have a condition that can cause them to behave erratically or threatening. It’s for situations that do not involve someone armed with a gun.
Smith, who retired last month, wrote in a March report that he returned to St. Paul and began “immediately to focus on providing more training for our officers — on slowing things down, taking tactical cover, and understanding that ‘distance plus cover equals time and safety.’ We formulated a training curriculum and trained our entire department on this.”
A recent case, involving a man who was on drugs and who had a mental illness, illustrated what Smith was describing, police said.
Supervisors showed the squad video to St. Paul officers at roll calls and talked about what the officers did well.
It was a Saturday in March, at about 10:30 a.m., when officers were called to Maryland Avenue and Clarence Street. A man in his 30s was naked and walking in the middle of the street.
“Shoot me, shoot me, (expletive)!” and “Blow my brains out!” the man repeatedly shouted. Police said the officers kept their distance, initially staying in the squad car. Officers asked the man to get onto the sidewalk, with one telling him, “Sir, nobody wants to hurt you … We’re going to get you some help.”
The man responded, “(Expletive) you!” and pounded on the hood of the squad car with both fists several times.
When more officers arrived to help and the man still would not get out of the road, one officer tried to use a Taser on him, but it didn’t work. But the man soon responded to officers’ commands to lie on the ground, and paramedics evaluated him and took him to the hospital.
PHILIP QUINN CASE
One St. Paul resident, Darleen Tareeq, sees the various efforts as progress, though she questions why officers in a metropolitan area like St. Paul were not already better equipped to help people who are mentally ill.
Tareeq’s fiancée, Philip Quinn, was in the midst of a psychiatric emergency when he rushed with a screwdriver at a St. Paul police officer and his mother in September of 2015. The officer fatally shot the 30-year-old Quinn and a grand jury determined the officer’s actions were justified.
When Tareeq initially called the non-emergency phone number for St. Paul police last year, she said she was not looking for a law enforcement response. Instead, she wanted help from paramedics to get Quinn from her West Seventh-area home to the hospital. Quinn, a schizophrenic, had been cutting himself and was delusional, Tareeq said. An autopsy also showed Quinn had methamphetamine in his system.
Quinn ran from the first officers who approached and apparently tried to force his way into strangers’ apartments, according to witness statements. Later, Quinn’s mother called for help from police to get her son so he could be committed. She reported Quinn had threatened to stab Tareeq, though Tareeq says that never happened and that she told officers as much.
“People have a crisis sometimes and they’re dying at the hands of law enforcement because they’re not taking their hands out of their pocket quick enough or some cop’s afraid of a screwdriver,” Tareeq said.
Tareeq said she’s grieving Quinn’s death and remains cynical about the police. Nevertheless, she sees the move toward officers working more with crisis workers as “a step in the right direction.”