Yesterday, many millions of us exhaled with relief. We exhaled for those who can’t: George Floyd, Breonna Taylor, Duante Wright, Adam Toledo, and so many, many more.
A legal process that has never been applied fairly has convicted Derek Chauvin for the murder of George Floyd. It’s a meaningful verdict in part because it’s so rare.
But we cannot mistake this for a transformative moment. The call that erupted last summer in George Floyd’s name, to reimagine safety and justice — that is our task, nothing less.
This verdict did not change the daily reality on the ground for Black people. A Black teenage girl was killed by police in Columbus, OH — as the nation waited for this verdict. Police departments still absorb almost all of our nation’s public safety budgets, while proven, community-based violence prevention gets a tiny fraction of that funding. Black people are still not safe when they’re pulled over, jogging, or even surrendering to police. And the families affected by violence don’t get trauma care or healing to rebuild their lives.
And most importantly, our nation has not been accountable to the harm of centuries of racist policies embedded in the justice system and so many other systems.
We must never forget the origins of policing.
The people who enslaved more than 10 million African people quickly established some of the first policing patrols with clear objectives: to enforce slavery. Police went on to uphold segregation, allowed white mobs to routinely lynch Black people, and crushed civil rights protests. Today, police are the face of laws that criminalize poverty, warehouse millions of Black and brown people in one of the world’s largest prison systems, and kill as a matter of accepted policy.
Punishing one officer will not create the change we need.
Many people have said that this verdict represents accountability. We disagree. Chauvin has been punished. But true accountability is active and ongoing. It requires real acknowledgement of the harm done, meaningful work to repair that harm, and a change in future actions so the harm is not repeated. Derek Chauvin has not done that. Neither has our nation.
When we are accountable to our racist history and the violence it produces, and we work to repair that harm, then we can build a justice system that centers healing and equity, and creates safety for everyone.
Last night, we exhaled. Today, we are back to work. To the Black and brown members of the EJUSA family: in the names of those lost to racist policies and practices, and in your names, we will continue to dismantle this legacy of racism, trauma, and violence, and build in its place the justice system we all deserve.
Equal Justice USA has been working with a coalition of organizations who are on the ground in several New Jersey communities driving innovative programs and interventions that are reducing violence. Today’s announcement is a critical step toward growing that work and delivering true public safety to communities.
“We are on the verge of a new era of public safety in which it’s clear that traditional law enforcement can no longer be the single point of contact for safety in communities,” said Will Simpson, director of violence reduction initiatives for Equal Justice USA. “This is crucial as gun violence continues to rise around the country. We must invest in proven community-based violence intervention and prevention models that treat violence like the public health issue that it is and that expand the public safety ecosystem to truly include the public. Governor Murphy’s announcement marks an important step in that shift.”
“This evolution is possible because of the unwavering, ground-breaking work of community-based violence intervention organizations using public health strategies to make their neighborhoods much safer. But there is a long way to go. This investment is significant but still a fraction of law enforcement budgets across the state.
“It wasn’t long ago that our society saw policing as the only solution to violence. Much has changed in a short period of time, beginning with the emergence of community-based organizations with a deep understanding of how trauma and a deficit of resources and support can ignite violence.”
In addition to its work in the coalition, EJUSA runs Trauma to Trust, the successful community-police relationship training program currently situated in Newark, where more than 200 officers have undergone the training.
Contact: Patrick Egan, 718-551-6603, patricke@ejusa.org
On April 1, some of New Jersey’s fiercest advocates for community-based violence prevention sat down — virtually — with Gov. Phil Murphy to build out the road ahead and ensure the state remains a national leader on this all-important front.
In addition to myself, the group included Aqeela Sherrills and Solomon Middleton-Williams from the Newark Community Street Team (NCST); Pamela Johnson, Jersey City Anti-Violence Coalition; Dr. Liza Chowdhury, Paterson Healing Collective; and Steven Campos, Hudson Partnership CMO.
Together we presented an agenda designed to make New Jersey a leader on solutions to violence. Here’s a brief summary of our aims:
Invest Now: Similar to the rest of the country, New Jersey’s homicides soared in 2020 in response to the pandemic. There was an outlier, though, in Newark. The city’s homicide and violence rate remained stable, marking a 60-year low. How? The city created a coordinated strategy for violence prevention, most notably NCST’s community-based approach to reducing violence through a public health lens. Historically, violence tends to rise during warmer months. With the pandemic lingering, it’s hard to imagine this summer being different. So we have to act now to keep our communities as safe as possible.
Replicate the Model: Other cities can use Newark’s approach. If the legislature funds a statewide violence intervention program, other cities with high violence rates — Paterson, Jersey City, Camden, Elizabeth, Asbury Park, Neptune, Trenton, Atlantic City, and Woodbury — can directly fund community organizations to the tune of $1.5 million per city and lay the groundwork for safer neighborhoods.
Working in Hospitals: Hospital-based violence intervention programs are a great resource, but their impact is limited without community-based violence intervention organizations as partners. With $500k of gap funding from the existing Victims of Crime Act (VOCA) funding, each of the nine previously mentioned cities can strengthen that coordination and support the community-based organizations preventing violence in their community.
Community Infrastructure: The south ward of Newark saw a nearly 50% decline in homicides, and leaders attribute it to new collaboration between community and law enforcement. One key strategy to curb violence around schools is the safe passage program, where community outreach workers provide safety around schools and thoroughfares. The data show this works and can be replicated.
Trauma Recovery Centers: This unique model allows individuals to self-identify as crime victims and automatically qualify to receive healing services. VOCA helps fund four centers now, but there’s a need to expand to Jersey City, Paterson, Atlantic City, and Camden, for starters. We must fund healing in community.
Fund housing and relocation: When violence happens, survivors need access to safe housing or need to be relocated for their own safety. With a Housing Fund of at least $150k per organization, those in communities impacted by violence or harm will be able to start their healing journey in a safe environment.
Non-Law Enforcement Drug Overdose Response: Like so many states, NJ is still working to address opioid and related drug addiction issues. Law enforcement is often the initial responder in these situations but shouldn’t be. A rapid response approach of non-law enforcement health professionals has worked in other cities and could flourish in NJ with the right investment.
These initiatives have the potential to increase the momentum on violence prevention that has already taken root. Even though New Jersey is a national leader, there is enormous room to expand approaches that succeed in large part because they treat violence like a public health issue. Gov. Murphy’s participation and interest is an encouraging sign that violence prevention can be sustained throughout the entire state. We are hopeful that Gov. Murphy and other leaders at the local, state, and federal level will continue to increase support for community based public safety strategies that have been proven to be impactful in cities around the country.
For nearly two decades, the death penalty has perished in one state after another. There is no question that America’s most egregious response to violence is on its way out. And Scott Langley has been a powerful force in this movement.
Scott is a freelance photojournalist whose passion is documenting the death penalty. His work — striking and filled with humanity — has been seen throughout the world. He has just launched a website that features a broad sweep of his work on capital punishment, including photos, video, essays, and more.
EJUSA’s ability to communicate the injustice of the death penalty, how it serves as an extension of lynching and our racist history, how it preys upon our most vulnerable, wouldn’t be as effective without compelling images. Scott has always been generous in helping us do that because of his unwavering commitment to seeing the end of the death penalty in this nation.
Please take a moment to check out Scott’s work and experience the story he has helped shape about the death penalty.
Reimagining Justice This Month highlights stories about effective responses to violence – responses that disrupt cycles of violence, heal trauma, and address structural racism.
Are Life Sentences a Merciful Alternative to the Death Penalty?, Mother Jones
Virginia’s recent repeal of the death penalty was both a reckoning with a racist history and a step toward a vision of justice that heals, builds equity and accountability, and creates safety for all. As our executive director, Shari Silberstein, says, how we move forward matters. That means recognizing that prisons perpetuate cycles of trauma, and broadening our imaginations beyond the idea that justice requires the suffering of others.
A Language for Healing, EJUSA
Al-Tariq Best, a member of our Trauma & Healing Network, founded The HUBB Arts and Trauma Center because he knows, from his own experience, how vital it is for young people to address their pain. In an interview, he talked about how he collaborated with youth in Newark, NJ, to create music and video projects as an outlet for the trauma they felt from the police murders of Breonna Taylor and George Floyd.
One Million Experiments, millionexperiments.com
The solutions to heal trauma and prevent violence already exist and are working in communities nationwide. Black and Brown communities that have borne the brunt of our nation’s failed criminal justice policies are also the communities that know best how to reduce violence more successfully than police and prisons. The launch of One Million Experiments offers a window into the creativity and possibility of collective action.
Georgia’s Asian American Leaders Call for Community-Centered Response After Six Asian Women Are Murdered, Asian Americans Advancing Justice
Asian American communities across the nation have seen surges of violence against them since the pandemic began, and this has produced substantial community trauma. The recent horrific shooting in Atlanta amplified that trauma. Leaders called for community-centered responses that can identify and address the root causes of the hate and violence and lead to healing and systemic change.
The Push to Pay Violence Interrupters a Living Wage, The Trace
Community-based approaches to violence prevention have been proven to be incredibly successful, reducing violence by up to 30-60% in some communities. We need to help these programs grow. The people putting their lives on the line to heal trauma, prevent violence, and create genuine accountability need not only to be seen for the success of their vital work, but also to be compensated.
Bonus: in breaking news, a new proposed bill out of the White House could provide up to $5 billion for community-based violence prevention programs.
Newark: In This Together, EJUSA
Retired Lt. Louis Forst of the Newark Police Department was quick to see the possibility behind our Trauma to Trust program when it was still a work in process. His personal essay recalls what the first training sessions were like and how sharing personal experiences of trauma helped the community and officers see each other as humans and begin to build trust.
Today, Governor Ralph Northam signed the bill to repeal Virginia’s death penalty, enacting it into law. Virginia is officially the 23rd state to end its death penalty.
The work on the ground to achieve this victory was amazing, including our partners from Virginians for Alternatives to the Death Penalty and the Virginia Interfaith Center on Public Policy.
The signing ceremony was the final action of a crushing blow against the death penalty, one of our nation’s most visible and egregious responses to violence. But what happened in Virginia in recent months, and stretching back well into 2020, is about so much more.
This victory you helped make possible is part of our country’s reckoning with a deep and wide legacy of injustice. Virginia is the first former Confederate state to abolish capital punishment. It comes after a year that saw the dismantling of 168 Confederate symbols across the nation. Nearly half of those symbols were found in the commonwealth.
Our national tolerance of hatred and racism is weakening. There is a renewed urgency to end mass incarceration, police violence, and all existence of systemic racism.
Given the historical context, we should not underestimate how important the repeal of Virginia’s death penalty is to that larger movement.
You make victories like this possible. People like you are the ones that take actions, spread the word, and make the donations that give this movement its strength.
Please take a moment to relish this winning campaign and the movement you’re sustaining.
In 2014, I was leading police training for Newark, NJ, when Mayor Ras Baraka took office. This was a crucial juncture for Newark Police Department (NPD). A recession plus a surge in retirements had decimated the department.
But that wasn’t the only problem. Before my role at the Police Academy, I worked in Internal Affairs and had seen so many complaint cases that stemmed from officers not knowing what to do in a particular situation. And lack of knowledge was not an acceptable excuse for a community that felt abused.
Mayor Baraka quickly committed to the first part of the problem. In one of our initial meetings, he said, “I want to hire 400 more officers, I’m behind the academy 100% for whatever you need.” It wasn’t easy, but over three years we reached the mayor’s goal.
Around that same time, Equal Justice USA approached me and pitched a plan to improve relations with the community as well as NPD’s reputation. EJUSA’s idea? Sit community members, activists, and police officers in a room for three sessions to listen to each other’s issues.
You’re kidding… was my initial response. Every scenario I imagined ended with raised voices and searing looks of contempt. No way this could work.
Yet the more I considered EJUSA’s plan, the more it made sense. The community had legitimate complaints and issues with NPD. And I found in my community meetings that a little bit of accountability could go a long way, by acknowledging that a problem existed and repairing it.
An example: At one meeting, a woman really unloaded about police response time, saying it was “because all cops were busy getting coffee.” I placed my phone on the table and said, “I have every top-secret phone number for NPD right here, and guess what. It takes forever for me to get a response too.” I then described how our hiring plans would improve response time and be part of a 911 call center revamp.
Maybe the sessions with EJUSA could create space for similar acknowledgements. I believed NPD was ready to make this leap of faith.
At the first EJUSA trainings, before the session started, police huddled with police, community members stuck together. Conversation stayed at whisper level.
We divided the group of 30 at round tables. We didn’t know it at the time, but it was the beginning of the most prolific and transformative community-based training in NPD’s history. (EJUSA soon named the training Trauma to Trust.)
The journey through those sessions wasn’t always easy or tranquil. The discussions were mentally and emotionally exhausting.
A breakthrough did come, though. A community member yelled, “The police don’t care. You see it in their faces, they can’t stand us! We live here, and we deserve more!”
A young officer stood up across the room and pounded the table. “I care, but I can’t do everything! I’m held over on 16-hour shifts every day, I’m exhausted, my wife and I never see each other, and my two young kids don’t even look at me when I’m home because I’m never home! So maybe that’s why I look like I don’t care.”
This exchange — honest, authentic, vulnerable — opened up the dialogue and established space for listening and understanding and, ultimately, empathy and trust. We were in this together.
The officers in attendance began to “humanize” the people they were supposed to protect. Community members suddenly didn’t see the police officer as merely an authority figure with a badge and gun. They saw a father, a mother, a son, or daughter who risked their lives every day for them.
Today, EJUSA has trained about 220 NPD officers under Trauma to Trust (that number would be much higher if not for Covid-19). And I believe it’s an important contributing factor to the positive momentum and united strength that exists today among all Newarkers.
On May 25, 2020, George Floyd died at the hands of a Minneapolis police officer. Across the nation, cities protested. Every city saw instances of violence and destruction, sometimes for many days. But one city stood apart.
Newark did not experience a single violent protest — or any officer-involved shootings — in 2020. You were more likely to see police officers standing side by side with protesters expressing their opinions on important issues. How did Newark do it? Trauma to Trust was one of the important reasons Newark stood so strong. Even better days are coming.
I am recently retired. I lived in Newark for over 40 years and dedicated more than 20 years to improving the quality of life in my hometown. Looking back, I hope that my professional path has in some way helped the community stakeholders of Newark. I also hope I imparted situational knowledge to the police officers I tutored who risk their lives in more ways than I can mention here.
It is a lot easier to teach tactical shooting, as you can measure it. Teaching and operationalizing empathy, genuineness, and compassion are the most difficult tasks of being a leader.
But today’s police officers need to bring a sophisticated mentality to the job. For too long, we have spent far more time training for the active shooter scenario than we have those intangible skills — communication and de-escalation — that most police are far more likely to encounter and that are truly crucial to being guardians for their community. When they do those situations well, they’re likely to avoid a potential physical confrontation.
An old timer who trained me as a rookie officer once said, “Kid, no one needs the police, until they need the police, and sooner or later, we all need the police.” That old cop was right. We all need empathetic law enforcement professionals who are considerate, honest, and fair.
I kept this quote from the great philosopher Plato above my desk: “It does not matter if the cobblers and the masons fail to do their jobs well, but if the Guardians fail, the democracy will crumble.”
The HUBB Arts and Trauma Center is at its heart a youth community and development center. So when the pandemic changed the world, Al-Tariq Best, The HUBB’s founder, took on the challenge of keeping the Newark community strong under the most difficult circumstances.
That became much harder after the murders of Breonna Taylor, Ahmaud Arbery, and George Floyd. The undisguised racism that drove that violence fueled historic uprisings and created a national conversation on race and equity. It also aggravated and shined a light on the historical trauma that communities of color have dealt with for generations.
This new pain moved Al-Tariq, a member of the EJUSA Trauma & Healing Network, to give his youth a way to express their feelings. He channeled their thoughts into two songs — “Letter to 45” and “8Mins46Secs” — recorded them on site with members of The HUBB, and then filmed supporting videos. What they created is incredibly powerful, so Christine Henderson, our senior manager of the EJUSA Trauma & Healing Network, sat down with him to learn more about the process and his motivation.
Warning: Some viewers might be alarmed by the graphic imagery used in these videos.
Christine: Can you start by talking about your choice to use music and video as a force for healing for youth?
Al-Tariq: We wanted to use it as a form of arts therapy. Music is a universal language. But we live in a visual world. We had to put a visual behind it so you really understand the mental health problems that come from the racial injustice in our community. And our youth wanted to talk about it and express how they see it at such an early age.
That was the focus of “Letter to 45.” Fight, strap, or march. That became a theme. I’m not advocating violence. Young people need to strap themselves with information so they can do something. Young people want to fight, but we have to be smart about how we do that. The older generation is able to show them how to fight without dying. It’s a common language from all ages.
Christine: Was there a moment last summer when you thought, “We have to express ourselves”?
Al-Tariq: George Floyd just did it. You’re hearing the youth cry, you’re hearing the conversations about the president and why is this hatred so out in the open and why isn’t anybody doing anything. That all came to a point where I thought if we put those feelings in song form we can force people to listen to it. And it needs to be unapologetic. It needs to be straight up in your face so people understand this is really happening.
In “8Mins46Secs” we were very intentional about showing what is really happening in real life and what we were experiencing. This is happening on our block. The one common theme is that systemic racism is everywhere. Until we fix that and change the training of our police, we’re never going to get the justice we deserve.
Christine: This is going to be hard material for some people to digest. There will be people who will react to the lyrics at the beginning of “8mins46secs.” What do you want to say who feel like that it’s controversial?
Al-Tariq: It is controversial, but it’s real. One of the issues we’ve had for so long is that we’re afraid to have the uncomfortable conversations. We have to have them because until then you don’t really get to understand what we’re feeling or doing or going through every day. This video is to go through that 8:46 of uncomfortableness.
When George Floyd was murdered, it was like enough is enough. The grimace on the cop’s face, this eight minutes and 46 seconds of him executing [George Floyd], and he didn’t care that cameras were watching. Yes, it’s uncomfortable. George Floyd changed the world because you can’t hide that kind of racism anymore. It leads back to something bigger. He did it as if he had permission to. He did it as if there was no recourse that was going to come to him. The racism was wide open.
That’s why “Letter to 45” was important, because we needed to say, “You’re not saying this is wrong.” In fact, you kind of made it okay by the way you phrased things. You gave them permission.
Until we’re considered human beings, we’re not going to get that respect. And that’s an uncomfortable conversation. A lot of our white brothers and sisters, you haven’t felt this. Our forefathers did some crazy stuff. All of these things stem from the things our forefathers did. They created the poverty gap that goes on in our community and then you want us to be okay, to be at peace. And it’s not okay. You won’t feel enough about it in order for us to do something about it.
Christine: Why was it important for you to round out this video with Black joy?
Al-Tariq: We were very intentional of not wanting to leave us in a dark space. There was some healing going on, especially with the youth. We wanted to celebrate what made America great. Blacks changed culture, we changed music, we changed all of these things that you celebrate with us, but you forget about that when racism rises up. Lots of white people have been privileged to not see what is really happening around us. For once, George Floyd showed you this is real, this isn’t us complaining.
But I didn’t want to leave you stuck there. These are the same people, who make all of these things you enjoy, so celebrate that. We’re still able to love. We love because we love.
Christine: When people see your video, what is it you want people to do? Especially outside the community?
Al-Tariq: I want people to do something. Like Tupac said, “I may not be the one to change the world, but I’ll be the one to spark the minds of those that do.” The idea was to get you pissed off enough to do something. This is hitting your doorstep. Now it’s time to do something.
You can’t unsee this. It’s horrible to watch. It’s horrible to feel! Imagine how we feel! This is a reality for us.
A lot of it stemmed from my anger as a 17-year-old having police brutality happen against me. It was like, “This is still happening?” I could’ve died back then. That left me angry, and I became aggressive with the police for a long time.
These youth are angry, adults are angry that this continues to happen to us, that no one really cares about how we feel and about how we’re being executed. So I need people to do something. Even if it’s just having a conversation about it.
Christine: Which video feels most important to you?
Al-Tariq: I think there are special moments in both. But in “8Mins46Secs” the Breonna Taylor piece — when I was writing it, I don’t know why I chose three times, but I wanted people to get the message.
Breonna, we honor
your life since they won’t!
How could all lives matter
if our lives don’t?
You want us to start saying all lives matter, well make us feel like that. Change the laws so that all lives matter. Change the education system so that all lives matter. Until we do that, the oppressor can’t tell you how to heal, how to feel.
Christine: How did The HUBB’s young people feel after working on these projects?
Al-Tariq: Well, overall, youth, they feel like they’re not heard. But creative expression through the music now amplifies their voice. They get to say, “Wow, you finally heard me, you see me.” That's an exhilarating feeling and to see how we crafted their views into something people are responding to. As an artist, you want people to respond to your work. But youth just want to be heard. They have thoughts and feelings totally different from ours. They feel like [adults] are always throwing info at them and not listening.
Christine: What message do you want to leave with the kids?
Al-Tariq: I’ve got two. One of my favorite sayings that resonates a lot is “Your situation doesn’t have to dictate your destination.” It’s okay to not be okay, but don’t stay stuck there. People out here that want to help but they don’t know how to if you don’t talk about. How are we ever going to heal or evolve unless we talk about it?
That leads to my other: People say quite often that “Hurt People Hurt People” and as much as that is true, we cannot just leave the statement like that. I follow up with “Healed people and healing people can heal people.” That one is for everyone.
Reimagining Justice This Month highlights stories about effective responses to violence – responses that disrupt cycles of violence, heal trauma, and address structural racism.
Evaluation Reports Newark Community Street Team’s Efforts are Effective in Crime Reduction, TAPintoNewark Few cities have done as much as Newark, NJ, to think about how trauma affects its community, and that thinking is central to the city’s commitment to community-led violence prevention. A new study has assessed the work done by our allies at the Newark Community Street Team as a “national best practice.”
Bonus: check out this video of Will Simpson, our director of violence reduction initiatives, in action with the Newark Community Street Team
Vital Signs: Generational Trauma Takes Toll on Mental Health in the Black Community,The Daily Progress Historical trauma from slavery and racial violence creates standard ways of surviving that are passed on across generations. This generational trauma becomes the foundation for other mental health issues, and many Black people don’t have adequate access to mental health resources — a recent study found that only 1 in 3 Black people who need mental health services receive them.
“Nothing that we do that is worthwhile is done alone,”The Chicago Reader Mariame Kaba, a long-time community organizer and author, has been reimagining justice for years, and cultivating the next generation of changemakers. Her many initiatives show us that the work of reckoning with violence and transforming justice to create healing and repair must be done through collective action and driven by collective responsibility
We three were on death row and we’re a lesson in the need to take care on capital punishment, Tampa Bay Times Clemente Aguirre and Herman Lindsey were both exonerated after years on death row. As members of our Trauma & Healing Network, their voices give powerful testimony to the fact that the death penalty only perpetuates cycles of violence. Until it is gone, there can be no true justice. In a month when another exoneration further exposed the racism of the death penalty system, and the justice system as a whole, their appeal to Florida is timely and important.
How the Torture Archive, Justice Center are Helping Survivors Heal, WTTW Black Chicagoans experienced vile racism via the torture they suffered at the hands of city police officer Jon Burge. Remembering that history is part of repair, and a newly launched digital archive documents the history and struggle of survivors. These stories, plus the holistic programs of the Chicago Torture Justice Center, show us justice reimagined as healing and addressing the trauma of police violence.
Virginia, a former Confederate state that has executed more people than any other state in the country, just just voted to end the death penalty, with the House of Delegates passing an abolition bill 57-41.
Virginia’s achievement today once again sounds the death penalty’s demise. But it does more than that. It shows the nation what must be done to reckon with our justice system’s deep-rooted racism.
Over the past year, millions of Americans witnessed the murders of Black people by police, violent suppression of protests, and finally a spree of vicious executions by the last presidential administration. Virginia is taking action on our collective horror and will become an example for a nation that needs to reconcile.
Lawmakers — from both sides of the aisle — came together at the request of murder victims’ family members, civil rights leaders, clergy, and thousands of Virginians to put an end to the broken, failed, racist relic that is the death penalty. They did it in the memory of Jerry Givens, a former Virginia executioner who died last summer of COVID-19 after years of sharing his story of the trauma and regret of participating in executions. And they did it the name of Earl Washington, Jr, a man with an intellectual disability who came with eight days of execution before he was exonerated — cleared of the crime for which he was about to be put to death.
With the Senate passing a different, but identically worded, bill earlier this week, lawmakers will have to come together for the formality of a reconciliation sometime in the next week. Then the bill will go on to the governor’s desk, where he has promised to sign it.
We are so grateful to our partners in Virginia for their hard work in making this victory possible, and for people like you who stand with us to do this work toward a more equitable and healing justice system.
In addition to myself, the group included Aqeela Sherrills and Solomon Middleton-Williams from the Newark Community Street Team (NCST); Pamela Johnson, Jersey City Anti-Violence Coalition; Dr. Liza Chowdhury, Paterson Healing Collective; and Steven Campos, Hudson Partnership CMO. 
