Transcript: Don't Send the Police: Freedom House Rides Again

Rachel Gilmer: When we were trying to come up with a name around the mobile crisis and we knew this was a program we wanted to do, Dr. Armen told us about this program in Pennsylvania; black people coming together to respond to medical needs in the communities before the ambulance service existed. And that's very much in the, in the same spirit of what we're trying to do here so it felt just right.

Trymaine Lee: Last week, we met Rachel Gilmer who's work in mental health in Miami is inspired by the original Freedom House in Pittsburgh. In the 60s, two dozen black men in Pittsburgh changed emergency medical response in this country born out of a desire to minimize police harm in black neighborhoods.

Now, Rachel is leading the Freedom House Mobile Crisis Unit, a program that responds to mental health needs within a five-mile radius of the historically-black neighborhood of Liberty City, and this week I'm riding with Rachel, in Miami, to see it all in action.

Archival Recording: And y'all are expanding your services, right, like there's been enough success for now, you're like, you're growing?

Gilmer: Yeah. So last year we ran a pilot program only two days a week and in the first few months we responded to folks experiencing suicidal ideation. We responded to folks who just wanted somebody to talk to. We responded to folks who had family members going through crisis and they didn't know what to do. They didn't want to call 9-1-1, and overwhelmingly, we got a really, really good feedback on what we're trying to do.

Lee: They didn't want to call 9-1-1. The seeds of Freedom House were planted years ago, but really took root in the summer of 2020 in the shadow of George Floyd's murder as the country wrestled with the role of policing with a new fervor.

A Gallup poll conducted in August of 2020 at the height of it all found that only 9% of black Americans had a great deal of confidence in the police. Over the years, not much has changed. An ABC News-Washington Post poll from earlier this year found that only 12% of black respondents felt that police treat black and white people equally.

One of the biggest reasons why many black folks don't want to call 9-1-1 is fear that they or a loved one will be hurt or killed by police and with good reason, black people are twice as likely to be killed by cops than white people and according to databases from those who keep track of this stuff, like “The Washington Post,” an estimated 25% of people killed by police were experiencing a mental or emotional crisis. Many of these stories have made national headlines.

Archival Recording: Prude was visiting relatives in Rochester. His brother had called 9-1-1 asking for mental health professionals concerned Prude was having a breakdown.

Lee: Like 41-year-old Daniel Prude, who was killed by police in upstate New York in March 2020.

Archival Recording: The incident seen on police body camera footage obtained and released months later by Prude's family back shows him naked, shouting, and being restrained with handcuffs, his head covered with a hood. An autopsy provided by the family said he died days later from complications of asphyxia in the setting of a physical restraint.

Lee: And there was Najee Seabrooks killed this March in Paterson, New Jersey

Archival Recording: Police say they responded to calls of an emotionally disturbed person and when they arrived to the apartment, a man barricaded himself inside, when they thought it was safe to enter police say they encountered a man with a knife. Two officers fired their guns. The Attorney General now investigating.

Lee: And more recently, 30-year-old Jordan Neely, who was killed by a stranger on a subway car in New York City.

Archival Recording: Neely was also homeless and struggled with mental illness, factors that many believe contributed to why Neely is no longer alive. Neely was allegedly yelling and pacing back and forth on a subway train in Manhattan until a stranger, a former Marine, put Neely in a chokehold on the subway train floor. The cause of death has been deemed compression of the neck and ruled a homicide.

Lee: The man who killed Jordan Neely was not a police officer, but it was a white man taking matters into his own hands and ultimately choking a black man to death, fitting the fear that a black person needing help often gets the opposite.

Since then, activists and politicians including New York's Pro-Law enforcement Mayor Eric Adams have said Jordan was clearly struggling and did not deserve to die. And the incident raised the question; when someone is struggling with a mental health emergency, but you're scared the police will cause more harm, who do you call?

In Miami, Freedom House has an answer. It's 1-866 SAFE MIA.

Archival Recording: So, this is retrofitted as like an ambulance? It's like a functioning --

Jackson: It is a functional ambulance. This is where all the magic happens, the driver's seat.

Lee: Leslie Jackson is a social worker with the Freedom House Mobile Response Team.

Jackson: We have lights on the top that are functioning and working and then, we also have in the back, on the other side, we have a full ambulance bed where we can transport if needed, where we keep our supplies. We keep food. Sometimes people, folks are hungry, we have some snacks on the van. That's a really good tool for de-escalation.

Lee: For this new program, spreading the word of who they are and what they do, is a big part of the work.

Jackson: And we always keep outreach papers on the van and cleaning supplies, but we really keep those outreach papers just because we want people to know. Anytime we see someone like, 'hey, this, this is what we're doing because people do ask questions. They see a big black van in their community and they're like what is that? What is this? So they ask and we tell them.

Lee: And just like the original Freedom House in Pittsburgh, this mobile response unit is just one way this group is helping black Miami. Rachel, Leslie, and their coworkers are taking a holistic approach to mental health and healing for the most vulnerable.

Archival Recording: They pay attention to the needs of the community and do whatever it takes to make sure that they bring the resources to the people that need it the most.

Lee: I'm Trymaine Lee and this is "Into America." In the second part of our series on “Freedom House: Then and Now” we head to Miami to meet the group that's taken a page from America's first paramedics and creating a safe alternative to police, this time in the name of mental health and violence prevention. This week, “Freedom House Rides Again.”

It's a sunny Thursday afternoon in Liberty City and I'm with Rachel about to board the freedom house mobile crisis van.

Gilmer: It's been an idea and a dream what would it look like to be building an alternative to policing in Miami since like 2014, 2015. So, when we got the van and got the decal on it and got behind the wheel, it felt like, wow, it's really.

Lee: Right.

Gilmer: This has been a long time coming.

Lee: Wow. The van isn't just for emergency response. The team uses it anytime they head out into the community, like when they're making house calls.

Gilmer: So, we're headed to Miss Ari's house. One of the people we worked with through our trauma recovery center, she lost her son to gun violence about a year ago. So, we're going to just check in on her, see how she's doing.

Lee: Freedom House calls this a wellness check and it's a vital part of their holistic approach to mental health. Freedom House is part of Miami's healing and justice center, where Rachel is the director. It's an arm of the Dream Defenders, a social justice organization founded after the killing of Trayvon Martin, and Rachel says the wellness checks are especially crucial in communities like this one, which experience a lot of neighborhood shootings have been chronically underserved due to systemic racism and where relationships with government agencies like the police are strained.

Gilmer: An important thing to know about Liberty City, where our healing and justice center is based, had a huge uprising.

Lee: In December 1979, a group of white officers brutally beat a black man named Arthur McDuffie. He died in the hospital just five days later. The officers involved were eventually charged but in May 1980, they were acquitted by an all-white jury and black Miami stood up.

Archival Recording: We know that we are now at war with people that keep pushing us around.

Archival Recording: That's right.

Archival Recording: We can no longer take it.

Archival Recording: Almost 5,000 soldiers and police are trying to prevent more violence, but people are still dying. This man was shot in the chest by a sniper. Government officials say when these riots are over, property, losses will be more than a billion dollars.

Lee: Over four days, 18 people died and more than 350 were injured. To this day, it remains one of the bloodiest urban uprisings in modern U.S. history. That's the backdrop for this new Freedom House program and the community it serves.

Lee: Have there been any kind of official from the Miami police department about what you guys are doing? Have they championed it at all at an official level?

Gilmer: Not yet. Not officially. Anytime we go out, we actually get a very positive reception from police officers. You know, they take our flyers, they say, oh, we got to help spread the word about this. But in terms of a more like systemic relationship with the police, we're still trying to figure out that, you know, try to figure out how to navigate that.

Lee: Like in most places across the country, police in Miami are often the first responders to mental health crises. A report from the Miami-Dade County court system found that one fifth of all people booked into the county jail require intensive psychiatric help. In fact, it holds so many people suffering from mental illness that if it were a psychiatric institution, it would be the largest in the state.

Over the years, both the Miami-Dade County police and the Miami Police Department have tried to improve the way their officers engage people with mental health issues. They both use a national training program called Crisis Intervention Team, which is supposed to teach officers how to de-escalate situations and prevent unnecessary arrests.

And just last month, the Miami-Dade Police Department graduated the first class of their Crisis Response Unit, a team of 21 officers and 2 firefighters who are specially trained to work with people, experiencing mental and emotional distress. But the unit isn't operational yet and Rachel is skeptical that any solution that includes police can be truly effective.

Gilmer: I mean, it's trying to change a culture that existed for, you know, 450 plus years in this country, you know, the first police were slave catchers so, it's a lot of culture shift. How do we have calls directly dispatched from 9-1-1 that send crisis workers to respond, not police alongside crisis workers, not police on their own with training, but really trained folks who are trained in responding to mental health crisis's, separate from the police. The data bears out that those are the most successful programs and that's the model.

Lee: At the first wellness visit, rain begins to fall. It's humid and muggy.

Aurianna McNear: Hey.

Jackson: Hey.

McNear: How are y’all doing? Hello. Hello. Yeah, come on in. Come on in. Good, good, good.

Lee: We're here to see Aurianna McNear, who everyone calls Ms. Ari. She lost her 17-year-old son, Cairi, to gun violence just a year ago, right before Mother's Day.

Jackson: This is the quietest I ever think I've seen your house.

McNear: Yeah. Cause everybody is at work or in school.

Jackson: In school (ph).

McNear: Yeah. I left the babies at daycare. I pick them up.

Jackson: Oh.

McNear: Yeah. Meet Caili (ph). You've never met Caili (ph).

Archival Recording: There (ph).

Jackson: Hi.

Archival Recording: How you doing? Nice to meet you?

McNear: (inaudible)

Jackson: Hi, Lilly (ph).

Archival Recording: Nice to meet you.

McNear: How (ph)?

Jackson: Yes.

Lee: How you feeling, brother (ph)?

Archival Recording: Good, brother. Nice to meet you (ph).

Lee: Miss Ari is wearing a bright hoodie with a blown-up photo of Cairi’s face on the front. I sit down with her in her living room to talk about what this past year has been like for her and how Freedom House has helped.

McNear: Oh, it's been an emotional rollercoaster. Days of ups and downs, I'm always trying to be positive because one emotion can trigger other emotions because I know that I am a mother, not just to him, but to other children and the other kids in the community. So, to me, it's been days of ups and down, more ups than there are downs, you know.

Lee: Have there been those real low moments that –

McNear: Yeah.

Lee: -- what you describe as crisis?

McNear: Yeah, I would say for sure a crisis moment was May 4. The initial realization that, no, this just hit home, this is at your door. And then I would say another major crisis moment I had was just this past Mother's Day. Like I said, like the realization like boom, like yeah, you are going to remember this day. Mother's Day is going to be unforgettable, but not necessarily for the happy times.

And then it's just moments in the household, watching the siblings go through it and even his father, like a man that rarely cries. Those are crisis moments watching a father cry.

Lee: You know, it is one thing to be going through this kind of process and going to some office or going to see some therapists or going to see someone that you think might be able to help you. But it's another thing for people to come to you. What does it mean to have the healing and justice center and the unit and Leslie coming to you and meeting you where you literally and figuratively are?

McNear: To describe them as a support system is an understatement. These people are like really rocks, the foundation to the community. Like really what we really need all the social workers, the mentors, the counselors, the doctors, just the whole team, them just being able to come to the house, just pop up on you even when you don't even want them to pop up, they still pop up.

You know, when you feeling like, really like depressed and you really don't want to talk to nobody, but you need to talk to somebody, you know, it's been days where Leslie just comes and just leave food at the door. Like you, you may think it's just a small thing, but no, when you depressed and you crying and you sad and you exhausted and, you know, you need spiritual food and emotional food.

You need like, you know, food to nurse her body when you crying. They dropped off boxes like every week she was there, man. I can't explain it.

Lee: Leslie, obviously, this is what y'all do but, when you met her and then shortly after the situation where someone was killed, what makes you stick with her and by her side, because you could have gone after five months saying, okay, we've been there, you know, glad you're doing better and stuff, but you're still there. Why?

Jackson: It sounds cliché, but it's what we do. I'm like actually like tearing up just because it's my community, too. Like I grew up going to church right around the corner, you know, my whole life. So, it's not just something that you're just like driving into work just to do.

It's not my job. Like, it's who I am. Like, this is my community. That gun violence affects all of us, so it's not just something that I take lightly like never. Every call, every person, I never ever take it lightly because this is someone's life and if, not if, when I'm going through a crisis, I want to have the same support, too.

McNear: And for me, I can say that healing and justice, they have been like the first therapy or therapist that we can identify with. I don't know if that makes sense.

Lee: It makes perfect sense. And how much of a difference did it make that they are black?

McNear: Leslie? Like, I don't know she felt like that sister, but also she had the tools and the therapy to be that therapist that no, you need help. I just love that. I don't know because I never felt comfortable to say, well, I need to go see a psychiatrist to have somebody reaffirm no, it is okay you're going through a really, really dark time. I can say that the Dream Defenders, they helped us with that a lot.

Lee: Miss Ari says that Freedom House has become a welcome fixture in her life, but not just for her, for the whole neighborhood.

McNear: It's good to know like if you ever see like, you know, Freedom House or Dream Defender, if you just see the logo, I don't care where you at in Liberty City, if you can flag that vehicle down, you in good hand.

Lee: More on Freedom House and what they're doing in the community when we come back.

(ADVERTISEMENT)

Dr. Armen Henderson: Freedom House is housed at Dream Defenders, which is right in back of us.

Dr. Armen Henderson is the founder of Dade County Street Response, which runs a free community clinic, and he serves as the medical director for the Healing and Justice Center. The center works out of the Dream Defender's headquarters, but it's really a bigger coalition of organizations which have all come together to make Freedom House possible.

Henderson: This is like an offering to the community in which people don't have to call the police for things that don't involve imminent danger.

Lee: Dr. Henderson is the one who came up with the idea to get Freedom House its name, to honor the legacy of the original black paramedics in Pittsburgh.

Henderson: We want to show up in a less harmful way, less disarming way, no weapons, but still with, you know, armed with love and care. And I think when we do approach individuals in that way on the mobile crisis team, they're more willing to accept help when they get the things that they need.

Lee: This past year, the Dream Defenders ran their pilot program where people could call 1-866 SAFE MIA two days a week for five hours a day. In the first four months of the program, they received nearly 140 calls. Dr. Henderson went out with the team on these first calls.

Henderson: All the individuals that we saw were black. All the individuals we saw were in a five-mile radius of this area.

Lee: When they get a call, the team decides how to handle the situation. It might result in an initial wellness check and sometimes that can turn into a long-term relationship like with Miss Ari. People also called to squash neighborhood beefs so the team sent violence interrupters before anything popped off.

And folks also dialed to report urgent mental health needs. Sometimes people fighting suicidal ideations called for someone to talk to. And Dream Defenders told us that during their pilot program about 41% of their calls were for crisis counseling and another 5% were for acute mental health situations. Those times Freedom House would quickly dispatch the van with a team equipped to handle the situation.

Henderson: We came to resolutions for all those things. A wide range of problems from suicide to a wellness check and no one was harmed. No one got shot, no one died. So that in itself is a success.

Lee: Freedom House estimates that if they were operating the phone line 24/7, they would receive close to 7,000 calls a year. They don't have the resources to do that just yet, but they did get a grant to expand. So starting this summer, they're planning to scale up to six days a week, 12 hours a day.

Gilmer: Yeah, people know 9-1-1 is an option. They know what they're going to get when they call 9-1-1 and we're out here trying to offer an alternative to that. Leslie at in the light, right?

Lee: Back in the freedom house van with Rachel and Leslie. They tell me that community education and buy-in is a big part of their expansion goals.

Jackson: If they trust us, then we can go in situations and be able to de-escalate and more people will call us. So, by providing that education, that's what we're really doing is building that trust and that's where we're spending a lot of our time right now as a startup.

Lee: We've left Miss Ari's house in Liberty City, and the team will check in again soon. For now, we're driving to Overtown, the neighborhood that came to fame as Miami's black cultural hub, but in more recent decades has struggled under the weight of poverty and violence.

Gilmer: And we're going to be doing a community walk. There was a shooting in the neighborhood a couple of days ago so, we're going to check in on the community and see what they need and try to get people not signed up for our services just aware the resources we provide.

Lee: How y'all doing? What's going on? How you feeling doing? Nice to meet you.

Archival Recording: It’s very nice to meet you.

Lee: All right, brother. So, this is the team, this is. Yeah.

Before they set out the Freedom House team starts to assemble around a couple of picnic tables in the middle of Henry Reeves Park. There are about 10 people in all, including some folks from Peacemakers, a violence interrupter group that also works with Dream Defenders.

Olivia Eason: The name of this particular high-risk area is called Culmer Place. Now it's known as Swamp City.

Lee: 41-year-old Olivia Eason is one of the Peacemakers. She was born and raised right here in Culmer Place.

Eason: It is one of the most notorious areas in Miami, Florida. High violence crimes from 6th, 7th Avenue to 5th Avenue.

Lee: Just three nights before I meet her, there was a shooting, a block from the park. Three people ended up in the hospital. So, what do you think? You're about to do this canvassing. Like, what are you thinking about? What's going through your head?

Eason: You know what's going through my head is always the potential help. How can we help? How can we help? But our canvases is us looking for clients so we can get them the support they need. A lot of people are embarrassed about admitting that they need mental help and mentorship but as we develop those relationships, they get a little easy about it.

Lee: Olivia and Leslie pair up and they head to an apartment building and start knocking on doors.

Eason: Okay. Well, let us know if you do need anything at 1-866 SAFE MIA, okay? We can write it down if you want.

Lee: It's clear Olivia is a fixture in this neighborhood. She seemed to know everyone and everyone knows her.

Eason: They asked me if you were making it real (ph). I said, no sir. It's good to see you.

Lee: Around 4:30 we ended up at a row of apartments just a block away from the shooting. Wenisha (ph) and Ron (ph) are sitting out on lawn chairs in front of their home and Olivia and Leslie see how they're doing. They're both pretty shaken up. Wenisha (ph) heard that one of the victims from the other day was just 13-years-old. She saw the girl get loaded into an ambulance.

Wenisha (ph): She had on headphones

Ron (ph): And she didn't hear when they were shooting.

Wenisha (ph): She didn't hear no gun violence.

Ron (ph): She got hit on. Yeah, she got hit.

Wenisha (ph): Yep.

Ron (ph): She just was listening to music.

Wenisha (ph): I seen her on that stretcher where the officers picked her up, off that ground.

Lee: How are people able to like weather the weight of experiencing that kind of thing time and again do you think?

Eason: See, some people don't even express their feelings. Some people act like they don't care.

Lee: They don’t care (ph). Yeah.

Eason: They actually do.

Lee: Yeah.

Eason: A lot of people act like they don't care.

Lee: Because this violence, it impacts the mental health of everyone in the community. That's what makes the work here by the Peacemakers and Freedom House so important. Sometimes it's just providing a safe space for people to open up and release.

Eason: That's why y'all see us.

Archival Recording: Yeah.

Lee: Doesn't it feel good to be able to at least get it out sometimes?

Archival Recording: Yeah. To get it out.

Eason: Actually, let somebody else hear --

Archival Recording: Yeah.

Eason: -- instead of me and him talking and it's not getting nowhere out.

Archival Recording: Yeah.

Eason: So yes, it is.

Archival Recording: Yeah.

Lee: Now, Leslie gives Wenisha (ph) and Ron (ph) some flyers about Freedom House and their services, and then it's down the block to the next person, Miss Stephanie. Her son was one of the victims in that shooting.

How are you holding up?

Stephanie (ph): Okay. He got shot in the leg.

Lee: Okay.

Stephanie (ph): He's feeling the percussion of what I was trying to tell him, talk to him about, so I think that's a wakeup call.

Lee: Olivia and another Peacemaker had stopped by the day before for a wellness check and saw Miss Stephanie's son, but didn't catch her.

Stephanie (ph): Oh, you right?

Eason: Me and him.

Jackson: Yes me. Both of us was present. Yeah.

Lee: So how does it feel to at least have people who are coming to the community and trying to do something?

Stephanie (ph): Oh, that feel lovely. That feel like hugs, virtual hugs. It was like virtual hugs, you know? I didn't see the people, but I could feel them. It was like, virtually was love. You know what I'm saying? It's like love.

Jackson: And we do love you. We do love you.

Eason: You stay encouraged, all right?

Jackson: Yes.

Stephanie (ph): Yeah.

Eason: And you let me know as soon --

Jackson: Stay in prayer.

Eason: -- as y’all are okay.

Stephanie (ph): Okay.

Eason: All right?

Lee: What's drawing those tears? I mean, I see you crying. What is this?

Stephanie (ph): It’s just the feeling of love.

Eason: For somebody that needs it.

Stephanie (ph): Sometimes you think that you by yourself, but you not by yourself. You not by yourself, you know.

Jackson: You got it. You're a strong mom.

Eason: Stay encouraged. Okay?

Stephanie (ph): All right. Y’all keep putting in good work.

Jackson: Yes. We’ll be back.

Archival Recording: Go check on her (ph).

Eason: You know we'll be back. Yeah.

Archival Recording: Do your work, y’all (ph).

Lee: Thank you.

Archival Recording: That’s how he heard (ph).

Lee: After we've hit all the doors on their route, the team meets back in the park for a debrief.

Eason: And I think my takeaway today is Miss Stephanie telling us that she wanted to shift, you know, and the first thing she said is my son told me about y'all wellness check, you know, to me and Shamika (ph), my thing is just being consistent, just putting one foot forward. And even if you don't get nobody to come to the door, keep going. Just one. All you looking for is just one, you know, reach one, teach one and keep it moving.

Lee: They gather their signup sheets with potential clients who might someday need help from Freedom House, all these new names and the familiar faces they talked with are an affirmation of what holistic mental healthcare can look like.

Jackson: Yeah. Today was really powerful. And it's really clear that the work that y'all have been putting in is having a huge impact, just how present y'all have been and how comfortable and safe people feel with you. So, thank y'all

Lee: The original paramedics of the Pittsburgh Freedom House set out to save black lives in their community and in the process changed the nation's emergency response system. While their story is often overlooked, nearly every life saved by an ambulance in this country is because of them. Freedom House Miami is starting small, like their namesake in Pittsburgh. They're here for the community. Matter of fact, they are the community, laying the groundwork for a mental health response system that actually works and maybe one day they'll see their model spread around the country, too, and once again, we'll have a Freedom House to thank.

Follow us on Twitter, Instagram, and Facebook using the handle @intoamericapod or you could tweet me @TrymaineLee, my full name, and to send us an email, the address is intoamerica@nbcuni.com that was intoamerica@nbc and the letters u and i.com.

If you love the show, help spread the word. You can do that by rating and reviewing "Into America" on apple podcasts or wherever you're listening right now.

"Into America" is produced by Isabel Angell, Allison Bailey, Mike Brown, Aaron Dalton and Max Jacobs. Original music is by Hannis Brown. Our executive producer is Aisha Turner. I'm Trymaine Lee. We'll see you next Thursday.