Leader of Minneapolis Office of Violence Prevention believes programs are making a difference

This summer, Sasha Cotton and her staff in the Minneapolis Office of Violence Prevention found themselves with millions of dollars of new funding in their budget and a directive from elected leaders: find ways to stop violence without relying on the police.

The death of George Floyd sparked a national conversation on public safety. A majority of the Minneapolis City Council voted for a controversial plan to shift public safety responsibilities, money and resources away from the police department.

As director of the Office of Violence Prevention, Cotton has emerged as the face of the city’s push to re-imagine what public safety looks like.

Cotton, who frequently pulls from her work in public health, describes violence like a doctor talks about a pre-existing medical condition.

"Someone who’s growing up in a community where violence is happening all around them is far more vulnerable to becoming a victim or perpetrator," she said during an interview.

But at a time when violent crime and gun violence is on the rise, and calls to increase police and police presence are growing, Cotton warns against focusing on short-term fixes.

"We’ve got to do this ‘both/and’ approach of ensuring that we’re doing the investing of healthy youth development, youth violence prevention, programming, as well as addressing the ongoing acts of violence that are making our communities unsafe," adding that law enforcement and the court system are needed parts of that process and, at times, should be used.

"We respect that and we recognize that it may be the appropriate response," Cotton said.

In 2018, the city of Minneapolis created the Office of Violence Prevention (OVP) and tapped Cotton to run it. Many of its programs, she says, rely on community partnerships to intervene and interrupt violence.

One of its most visible initiatives is "MinneapolUs," a program that recruits trusted community members to work as "violence interrupters" on neighborhood-specific teams. The volunteers serve as a positive presence on the street to de-escalate and mediate tense situations.

"It puts people from those communities who have lived experience with violence or working in community with people who have experienced violence out there in the forefront," Cotton said.

OVP currently contracts with seven organizations to do this work in different areas of Minneapolis. 5 INVESTIGATES recently followed T.O.U.C.H Outreach violence interrupters, who work six nights a week, on a route that goes from Lake Street into downtown Minneapolis.

Muhammad Abdul-Ahad, the group’s leader, said he handpicks the individuals on his team.

"Some of these guys and girls went through the same struggles that some of these young people going through," he said. "We want to send the positive narrative out there that we are here for the community, we are here to help you."

But the program has seen its share of controversy. One of the contracts is with The Agape Movement, a nonprofit organization that Cotton says has a history of engaging with high-risk populations.

Agape is paid by the city for outreach and engagement in south Minneapolis, including the area around George Floyd Square. But in June, the same group helped city workers remove the barriers that blocked East 38th Street and Chicago Avenue, a move that led to criticism from some who claimed that members of Agape were working for the police department.

"We can stipulate… the scope of their work with us and that is what we have control over and that is what we can hold them accountable for," Cotton said, explaining the public works contract to clear George Floyd Square is different from the work OVP is paying for.

"This year, we’ll be monitoring all of our teams and evaluating the fit and seeing which teams are able to meet the mark and which teams we have to make some modifications for, and Agape is no exception," she said.

Abdul-Ahad said he’s spent much of his time on these routes explaining to people that the violence interrupters are not affiliated in any way with the police department.

"We get asked to come and calm the chaos a bit, and it’s stuff like that, you know, that I think is important that the community handles and not law enforcement," he said.

Cotton said it’s been tricky convincing people to trust their new initiatives.

"Communities have every right to be skeptical and to question how, why, what, we’re doing because historically, sometimes the choices that we’ve made haven’t always worked for them," she said. "But we also ask for grace and time to get it right."

In addition to the violence interrupters, OVP’s budget funds other programs that Cotton says work behind the scenes. Staff act as case managers, meeting with gunshot victims in emergency rooms in the middle of the night. The Group Violence Intervention program targets youth and gang violence and tracks whether or not those individuals are getting into trouble with police.

"Our interrupter model and some of our other programs we think are going to be visible and are going to make a significant difference," Cotton said.

When asked how she responds to criticism from community members who want solutions to crime and violence that yield immediate results, Cotton cautions against abandoning the long-term efforts that will fundamentally change the system.

"If we don’t invest in building healthy, strong, thriving communities for the long-term, then we will lose sight of what the next five years and the next 10 years is going to look like," she said.