Wesley Law
Last November, Wesley Bell unseated 28-year veteran Robert McCulloch as St. Louis County prosecutor. Like McCulloch, he’s the son of a police officer—but the parallel ends there. After Michael Brown was shot, Bell was elected to the Ferguson City Council. He helped implement the U.S. Department of Justice consent decree and then ran for county prosecutor, galvanized by the need for reform.
How does it feel to be propelled into power by a crisis so much larger than yourself? Well, the work of an elected official is always going to be bigger than the individual. Yeah, we had some unique circumstances, events that our region had to deal with. And by chance, God’s will—whatever you want to call it—I found myself thrust in the middle of it. I taught at Florissant Valley Community College, which is actually inFerguson. I was there; that was my community. And when Mr. Brown was killed, I felt that my expertise, my experience, suited the situation. I knew that trust—or rather, a deficit of trust—was a big issue, and when it comes to policing issues being one of the first to really push for community policing, I felt that was a bridge to building that trust. People can sniff out inauthenticity very quickly.
What are the biggest difference in ideology, values, style, and priorities between you and your predecessor? [He pauses, measuring his words.] Unfortunately, my predecessor hasn’t been very available for questions—which was surprising to me. If someone’s been in office that long, agree or disagree, you’d at least like the opportunity to pick their brain. But he has the right to retire, and that’s what he’s done. I can only piece together, from what I hear, what his style was. I like to have an open-door policy. I want to make this a place where people enjoy coming to work. It’s a tough enough job as it is. The year before I came, this office lost 17 people. This year, we’ve lost two [to voluntary turnover]—and both got higher-paying jobs and came to me and said, “What can I do?”
Before you’d even been sworn in, the prosecutors in your office joined the police union. Was that as much of a slap as it seemed to be? That’s a tough one for me to answer—I made it a point not to talk about it, because I don’t want that to be part of the dynamic of the office. We’re all on the same team. If at some point, they decide to unionize, I support that. Now, I do not agree with the choice of union. As prosecutors, one of our responsibilities is to serve as a check on law enforcement. This takes away from that trust we’re trying to build.
What have you emphasized will change, going forward? That we’re going to greater expand and better utilize diversion and treatment programs. There are already drug courts, mental health courts, a court for veterans’ issues, and a layer we’re adding is prosecution-led diversion programs before cases ever get to court. We’re talking about nonviolent, low-level [misdemeanor and class C, D, and E felony] offenders who need treatment. We have community partners jumping into the fray, offering individualized treatment services that cost taxpayers zero dollars, so we can start addressing the underlying causes. The bottom line is jails are not the best at rehabilitation. We know that. We have to stop this mindset of trying to prosecute our way out of drug or mental health issues.
You’ve also done some caseload restructuring. Homicides used to be divvied out to all the attorneys. We had attorneys assigned to multiple homicides with no trial experience. When I sat down with families and they wanted to know who was handling the trial—that’s not acceptable. Also, we had a domestic violence unit, but they also handled other cases. We’re in the process of pulling those cases away, because domestic violence can have such a negative rippling effect on the victims and families. We’re passionate about those cases. Domestic violence offenders are violent, and court intervention is appropriate.
You’re in the office early every morning, and you’re often the last to leave. What parts of the job do you micromanage? Issues that deal with victims and their families. I make it a point to meet with as many as I possibly can; I want them to be able to look in my eyes and ask questions directly of me. I also try to go whenever I can to homicide scenes, talk with the family, hug them. I wasn’t sure how I was going to react—I’d served as a judge, and judges don’t go to homicide scenes; neither do defense attorneys. A few days after I was elected, there was a homicide, and I went to the scene. The hardest part was talking with the family. The victim was an older woman but she’d been very active, and she had family who loved her. They invited me to her wake.
What would you have changed about Ferguson? The biggest factor that affects people’s view of their community is law enforcement. When I was on the council, people would come in raving angry about a pothole or garbage, threaten everybody on the council. But as soon as you fix that pothole or collect that garbage, they’re bringing you cake; they’re ready to throw you a parade. When people have negative interactions with law enforcement, those feelings don’t go away so easily. Officers have so much power on the street, and when that power is abused—or perceived to be abused—that’s a powerless situation to be in.
So the distance between police and community helped enflame the situation? It’s hard to hate somebody you know. And prior to Ferguson, police officers pretty much stayed in their cars. Officers shouldn’t be judged by how many arrests they make. They should be judged by how many people they know in that community. Once officers connect with the community, psychologically, they approach their job differently. They see themselves not as warriors but as guardians. Then people can say, “That’s Officer Smith. I know Officer Smith. Let’s not rush to judgment.”
You’ve mentioned “using jails as debtors’ prisons” as a factor, too. What about leaving Michael Brown’s body in the street for so long? I don’t know the details of how that happened. But, yeah, it’s hard to get past that visual. I think about the kids who saw that. I went to a homicide scene in Castle Point a few weeks ago: A gentleman had been killed, and his car was still in the middle of the street, which was taped off, and at the end of the street, a family was having a birthday party, and the kids were outside playing. We’re becoming desensitized; people are dealing with this senseless violence too often. It’s something we need to address as a community, as a country.
Before you became prosecutor, was there enough transparency in this office? No. And lack of transparency begets distrust. The average grand jury hearing is 45 minutes; that one was four months. The grand jury process is not to present evidence for the defense; it’s about bringing evidence that a crime was committed. That’s it. It’s a low standard. We had an officer-involved shooting recently [by former Ladue police officer Julia Crews], and we explained everything we were doing. We talked to law enforcement, we let them do their investigation, and we let people know why. It’s like a high school math test: The answer’s not enough. You have to show your work.
What’s your take on the Close the Workhouse movement in the city? It, too, started with Ferguson. Let me be clear: I stay in my lane. I have a lot of respect for Judge Jimmie Edwards and the board of aldermen—a lot of good people are doing a lot of good work. But as a former public defender and defense attorney, I had the opportunity to visit clients in that workhouse. I’m not passing judgment—I don’t know the budgetary issues—I’m just giving my opinion. And that opinion is, the workhouse needs to be closed. For years, as a professor, I wanted to take students on tours, and they didn’t offer them, and I know why. To be fair, they are allowing tours now, so there must be some improvement. But I had a client who’d served 20 years in the penitentiary. He was in the workhouse with a parole violation, and he said, “I need to take a plea, ’cause I’ve got to get out of here.” He felt safer in the penitentiary. Now, to be fair, unspeakable things happen in many of our prisons, too. You treat people like animals, they’re going to get out and behave like animals. This idea you can just lock people away? The overwhelming number of people who go through our prisons are going to come out. And if you don’t give them the resources to be better citizens, they’re going to go back to what they know.
How effectively are we grappling with the problems Ferguson raised? There’s progress. You’ve seen a self-identified activist now serving on the city council; you’re seeing those who were protesting in the streets serving on neighborhood commissions in Ferguson. There’s more community policing. Are we doing a George Bush “Mission accomplished”? No. There’s a lot left to do. We’ve seen a push not only regionally but also nationally to reduce the jail population for nonviolent offenders. In the first 100 days of this administration, jail population declined by 12 percent, and 68 percent of that was misdemeanors and low-level, nonviolent felonies. We’re proud of that, because we know that even a short stay in jail increases the likelihood that someone will commit a new offense.
What do you say to people who think you’re not “tough on crime”? I’ve always been data-driven. When I think about my sons being safe, I don’t think about some guy in his house smoking a little marijuana. The bottom line is by not focusing on low-level crimes, we’re able to reallocate our resources to the serious and violent crimes that do matter. The man hours that go into even a misdemeanor possession case can be shifted. So for nonviolent people who need treatment, yeah, we’re taking a more compassionate approach. We’re able to focus more of our resources on people who are committing the ultimate crimes, people who are taking lives. It’s not so much about being “tough on crime” as it is about being smart. We’ve seen that mantra for years. It doesn’t work. If someone has harmed someone, they’ll be held accountable. But if someone needs treatment? Drug addiction is a public health crisis. Treating it keeps us all safer.
