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NYPD Crime Statistics
NYPD Announces Citywide Crime Statistics for February 2022
March 3, 2022
For the month of February 2022, New York City saw a 58.7% increase in overall index crime compared to February 2021 (9,138 v. 5,759). Every major index crime category saw an increase for the month of February 2022. Robbery increased by 56% (1,276 v. 818), grand larceny increased by 79.2% (3,762 v. 2.099), and grand larceny auto increased by 104.7% (1,083 v. 529). Citywide shooting incidents decreased by 1.3% (76 v. 77) in February 2022 compared to the same period last year.
The New York City Police Department remains focused on the drivers of crime and disorder in New York City, and the department will never waver in its core mission to protect all the people it serves. Every day, in every New York City neighborhood, the NYPD is working to identify and investigate the relatively small number of people who are responsible for the majority of the criminal activity – and it is employing every resource to ensure that these offenders are held accountable.
To that end, the new Neighborhood Safety Teams will further enhance the NYPD’s efforts to stop the proliferation of illegal guns, stifle gang activity, and suppress the violence caused by these unlawful actions. The deployment of these specially trained officers and supervisors will augment the ongoing work of patrolling the city’s streets, subways, and public housing developments, 24-hours per day. Nearly nine million New Yorkers depend on the NYPD and its local, state, and federal law enforcement partners to keep them safe – and every member of the police department is fully committed to this critical work.
“The men and women of the New York City Police Department are proactively addressing the deep-rooted causes of criminal behavior,” said Police Commissioner Keechant L. Sewell. “The NYPD will never relent, and the department has made far too much progress over the decades – and invested far too much in the communities it serves – to fall back by any measure. New Yorkers deserve better.”
Jimmy Breslin’s Grave Digger Story
‘It’s An Honor’
New York Herald Tribune, November 1963
By Jimmy Breslin
WASHINGTON — Clifton Pollard was pretty sure he was going to be working on Sunday, so when he woke up at 9 a.m., in his three-room apartment on Corcoran Street, he put on khaki overalls before going into the kitchen for breakfast. His wife, Hettie, made bacon and eggs for him. Pollard was in the middle of eating them when he received the phone call he had been expecting. It was from Mazo Kawalchik, who is the foreman of the gravediggers at Arlington National Cemetery, which is where Pollard works for a living. “Polly, could you please be here by 11 o’clock this morning?” Kawalchik asked. “I guess you know what it’s for.” Pollard did. He hung up the phone, finished breakfast, and left his apartment so he could spend Sunday digging a grave for John Fitzgerald Kennedy.
When Pollard got to the row of yellow wooden garages where the cemetery equipment is stored, Kawalchik and John Metzler, the cemetery superintendent, were waiting for him. “Sorry to pull you out like this on a Sunday,” Metzler said. “Oh, don’t say that,” Pollard said. “Why, it’s an honor for me to be here.” Pollard got behind the wheel of a machine called a reverse hoe. Gravedigging is not done with men and shovels at Arlington. The reverse hoe is a green machine with a yellow bucket that scoops the earth toward the operator, not away from it as a crane does. At the bottom of the hill in front of the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier, Pollard started the digging (Editor Note: At the bottom of the hill in front of the Custis-Lee Mansion).
Leaves covered the grass. When the yellow teeth of the reverse hoe first bit into the ground, the leaves made a threshing sound which could be heard above the motor of the machine. When the bucket came up with its first scoop of dirt, Metzler, the cemetery superintendent, walked over and looked at it. “That’s nice soil,” Metzler said. “I’d like to save a little of it,” Pollard said. “The machine made some tracks in the grass over here and I’d like to sort of fill them in and get some good grass growing there, I’d like to have everything, you know, nice.”
James Winners, another gravedigger, nodded. He said he would fill a couple of carts with this extra-good soil and take it back to the garage and grow good turf on it. “He was a good man,” Pollard said. “Yes, he was,” Metzler said. “Now they’re going to come and put him right here in this grave I’m making up,” Pollard said. “You know, it’s an honor just for me to do this.”
Pollard is 42. He is a slim man with a mustache who was born in Pittsburgh and served as a private in the 352nd Engineers battalion in Burma in World War II. He is an equipment operator, grade 10, which means he gets $3.01 an hour. One of the last to serve John Fitzgerald Kennedy, who was the 35th president of this country, was a working man who earns $3.01 an hour and said it was an honor to dig the grave.
Yesterday morning, at 11:15, Jacqueline Kennedy started toward the grave. She came out from under the north portico of the White House and slowly followed the body of her husband, which was in a flag-covered coffin that was strapped with two black leather belts to a black caisson that had polished brass axles. She walked straight and her head was high. She walked down the bluestone and blacktop driveway and through shadows thrown by the branches of seven leafless oak trees. She walked slowly past the sailors who held up flags of the states of this country. She walked past silent people who strained to see her and then, seeing her, dropped their heads and put their hands over their eyes. She walked out the northwest gate and into the middle of Pennsylvania Avenue. She walked with tight steps and her head was high and she followed the body of her murdered husband through the streets of Washington.
Everybody watched her while she walked. She is the mother of two fatherless children and she was walking into the history of this country because she was showing everybody who felt old and helpless and without hope that she had this terrible strength that everybody needed so badly. Even though they had killed her husband and his blood ran onto her lap while he died, she could walk through the streets and to his grave and help us all while she walked.
There was Mass, and then the procession to Arlington. When she came up to the grave at the cemetery, the casket already was in place. It was set between brass railings and it was ready to be lowered into the ground. This must be the worst time of all, when a woman sees the coffin with her husband inside and it is in place to be buried under the earth. Now she knows that it is forever. Now there is nothing. There is no casket to kiss or hold with your hands. Nothing material to cling to. But she walked up to the burial area and stood in front of a row of six green-covered chairs and she started to sit down, but then she got up quickly and stood straight because she was not going to sit down until the man directing the funeral told her what seat he wanted her to take.
The ceremonies began, with jet planes roaring overhead and leaves falling from the sky. On this hill behind the coffin, people prayed aloud. They were cameramen and writers and soldiers and Secret Service men and they were saying prayers out loud and choking. In front of the grave, Lyndon Johnson kept his head turned to his right. He is president and he had to remain composed. It was better that he did not look at the casket and grave of John Fitzgerald Kennedy too often. Then it was over and black limousines rushed under the cemetery trees and out onto the boulevard toward the White House. “What time is it?” a man standing on the hill was asked. He looked at his watch. “Twenty minutes past three,” he said.
Clifton Pollard wasn’t at the funeral. He was over behind the hill, digging graves for $3.01 an hour in another section of the cemetery. He didn’t know who the graves were for. He was just digging them and then covering them with boards. “They’ll be used,” he said. “We just don’t know when. I tried to go over to see the grave,” he said. “But it was so crowded a soldier told me I couldn’t get through. So I just stayed here and worked, sir. But I’ll get over there later a little bit. Just sort of look around and see how it is, you know. Like I told you, it’s an honor.”
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This comes from a Department of Justice press release.https://www.justice.gov/usao-sdny/pr/ten-oed-gang-members-charged-narcotics-conspiracy
The Drug Enforcement Agency (DEA) said on Wednesday that it broke up a gang that dealt drugs. A criminal complaint accused them of participating in a conspiracy to traffic narcotics. Six of the defendants also were charged with using guns in furtherance of that conspiracy.
JERRIN PENA, 20, ARIEL OLIVER, 22, JUSTIN DEAZA, 20, WILSON MENDEZ, 19, JOWENKY NUNEZ, 19, BRIAN HERNANDEZ, 22, VICTOR COLON, 24, JOSE GUTIERREZ, 20, ARGENIS TAVAREZ, 22, and NIJMAH MARTE, 21, all from New York City, are each charged with conspiracy to distribute and possess with intent to distribute 400 grams and more of fentanyl, in violation of Title 21, United States Code, Section 846, which carries a mandatory minimum sentence of ten years in prison and a maximum sentence of life in prison. The defendants are also charged with conspiracy to distribute and possess with intent to distribute heroin, cocaine, crack cocaine, oxycodone, in violation of Title 21, United States Code, Section 846, which carries a maximum sentence of 20 years, and conspiracy to distribute and possess with intent to distribute marijuana, also in violation of Title 21, United States Code, Section 846, which carries a maximum sentence of five years.
Between in or about 2019 and in or about 2022, the defendants sold fentanyl, heroin, cocaine, crack cocaine, oxycodone, and marijuana in and around the Washington Heights neighborhood of Manhattan. The defendants sold drugs to, among others, undercover police officers, and were frequently arrested in possession of drugs packaged for resale.
In addition, PENA, MENDEZ, NUNEZ, HERNANDEZ, COLON, and MARTE each possessed firearms in connection with their drug dealing, and PENA, OLIVER, and NUNEZ regularly posted social media photographs and videos of themselves holding firearms.
On February 24, 2022, DEAZA was arrested in possession of one kilogram of fentanyl.
PENA, MENDEZ, COLON, GUTIERREZ, and MARTE were arrested in Manhattan New York and the Bronx.
U.S. Attorney Damian Williams said: “As alleged, these defendants were members of a gang that distributed many types of illegal narcotics in a Manhattan neighborhood for years. Several of the defendants frequently carried firearms while dealing drugs.
DEA Acting Special Agent-in-Charge Timothy Foley said: “The Own Every Dollar gang used social media to glamorize their drug enterprise, conduct drug transactions and brandish weapons instilling fear in the community. Our drug trafficking investigations have a way of uncovering links to the threat of gun violence and gang-related criminal activity. Today’s arrests exemplify law enforcement’s commitment to law and order and people’s right to live without fear.
Today’s arrests are part of our continued commitment, along with our law enforcement partners, to target narcotics trafficking and firearms use in New York City.”
The alleged gang members appeared before be presented today before the Hon. Barbara Moses, United States Magistrate Judge for the Southern District of New York. OLIVER, DEAZA, and HERNANDEZ were already in state custody. NUNEZ and TAVAREZ remain at large.
Stroll—And Eat—On An Italian Boulevard While In The Big Apple
by Gerald Eskenazi from Forbes
If you want to know what one of the most interesting neighborhoods in New York was like before the pandemic—-well, it’s back, and in these times, more important, more fun and more needed than ever.
There really is only one Little Italy these days, and it’s in the Bronx, in the area known as the Belmont Business Improvement District. To most of us, it’s simply Arthur Avenue, and if you’re a New Yorker, or are going to visit, this is a place for you along with the Statue of Liberty, the Empire State Building, and Times Square.
The somewhat-official launching of the return takes place Friday night, April 30, and continues until autumn unveils itself to New Yorkers.
It’s called, grandly and romantically, and with a nod to its Italian roots, Piazza di Belmont—the place for outdoor dining on Arthur Avenue. You don’t have to close your eyes to imagine you’re in Italy on a real piazza, a wide street you can stroll on without looking over your shoulder for a bicycle, car or truck. Look around and imagine an Italian town. You’ll soon be whistling Italian love songs, too.
The street becomes transformed as a piazza on Friday and Saturday nights from 6 to 10 P.M., and from 1 to 9 P.M. Sundays. This means that from East 188th Street to Crescent Avenue this swath on Arthur Avenue will be closed to vehicles. You can walk down the middle of the street, dine without being bothered by honking, hear the tinkle of wine glasses instead of the ring of a bicycle bell or any other vehicular noise.
For Peter Madonia, chairman of the District, and purveyor of the tasty goodies from his eponymous bake shop, there is a deja vu aspect to what Arthur Avenue has done on the weekends:
“Many of the small businesses in Bronx Little Italy are owned and operated by the same families who founded them over a century ago – some of which have already been through the 1918 pandemic.”
During the day, the neighborhood will be the same—that is, the stores will be open for browsing, takeout, dining. This area looks and feels and sounds like the New York you first met in old movies, or television shows. It is a legitimate Little Italy in food—pizza the way it’s made in Naples; pasta from Italian semolina; food shops where a ton of slabs of pork hang from the ceiling; bakeries with 35 kinds of cookies.
If you’re a New Yorker, Arthur Avenue is, at most, a 30-minute drive by car. Little Italy in the Bronx has several parking options including metered spaces and a public parking lot at 2356 Hoffman Street. Also, anyone—New Yorker or visitor—can get to the Belmont neighborhood via Metro-North or the city’s subway via the D/B line.
If you want to know more about the neighborhood, log on to bronxlittleitaly.com. If you’re interested in making specific reservations, well, this evocative names of restaurants are among the places you’ll want to go: Zero Otto Nove, Mario’s Restaurant, Enzo’s of Arthur Avenue, Estrellita Poblana III, Ann & Tony’s, Pasquale’s Rigoletto Restaurant,
And, as I once heard someone say in Rome, “Mangia!”
I have had a rollicking 44-year ride as a reporter (sports) for The New York Times—that included 8,000 bylines, second-highest in the paper’s history. Along the way, I
BOXING: Foreman Flattens Moorer With Blast From the Past
by Gerald Eskenazi, from The New York Times
A right hand thrown from about 1973 tonight returned to 45-year-old George Foreman the heavyweight title he had lost 20 years ago.
With that heavy, short blow to the previously undefeated Michael Moorer in the 10th round, Foreman became the oldest heavyweight champion in history.
He looked it, too, his baggy orange trunks — they were red when he wore them in Zaire against Muhammad Ali 20 years and a week ago — ill-fitting under his stomach.
At 250 pounds, he was 28 pounds heavier than the southpaw Moorer, who was 19 years younger.
Foreman had trailed on all three judges’ scorecards. But the stunning shot proved to be the only knockdown of the bout. Moorer fell flat on his back and took the entire 10-count from Referee Joe Cortez, the bout ending at 2 minutes 3 seconds of the 10th with Foreman becoming the World Boxing Association and International Boxing Federation champion.
Oliver McCall holds the World Boxing Council title. McCall will fight 45-year-old Larry Holmes, a former champion, in a title bout next February.
Moorer had thrown 641 punches, to only 369 by Foreman. Yet, Foreman had refused to sit in his stool between rounds against his younger opponent. He stood in his corner so calmly, it seemed like another attempt at a psych job.
The one shot made Foreman the first fighter in the division to appear in a title fight 20 years apart.
Ali had defeated him in Zaire in 1974. That ended the myth of the Invincible Foreman that had reached its peak when he knocked out Joe Frazier in 1973 to capture the title.
“These are the shorts that I fought in when I was heavyweight champion of the world,” said Foreman later. “They are short and make you look a little chubby, but I fought Muhammad Ali in these shorts.
“I exorcised the ghost, once and forever. Heavyweight champion of the world.”
Foreman had been hit with most of the bout’s punches, yet rarely faltered or staggered or changed his style. He moved forward.
The road to the knockout began with a right that sent a shudder through Moorer, who backed up. Then came a short left, and finally, the ultimate right.
“Anything you desire, you can make happen,” the once and future champion said afterward. “It’s like the song, ‘When you wish upon a star your dreams come true.’ Well, look at me tonight.”
And what better setting for this than a 15,000-seat indoor arena at the M-G-M Grand, the 5,005-seat hotel in which Dorothy and the Tin Man and the other “Wizard of Oz” characters cavort near the casinos.
“Bluebirds,” said Foreman, “fly over the rainbow. Why oh why can’t I?”
More gracious in defeat than he had been as champion, at least publicly, Moorer admitted afterward that he had been thinking of retiring if he won.
“But I’m not sure now,” he said. His record fell to 35-1, including 30 knockouts. For Foreman, who did not fight at all between 1977 and 1987, his impressive mark stands at 73-4. Moorer was his 68th knockout victim.
Why didn’t Moorer just coast the final rounds? Two judges had him ahead by 5 points, the third by 1 point. Moorer had to know he was leading.
I my mind, I knew I was winning,” he said. But apparently his trainer, Teddy Atlas, kept after him to keep circling to his right.
“I was doing it in the gym, but here it’s totally different,” Moorer explained.
Didn’t he consider backing off?
“No,” he replied, “I never considered backing off.”
Foreman claimed his strategy was to keep pounding until he could flatten Moorer. Foreman claimed that he would never get the benefit of a decision, and that the fact there was no three-knockdown rule would help Moorer. Thus, said Foreman, when he nailed Moorer, it was essential he stay down.
Foreman didn’t need to worry. Even while Moorer was down for a minute after being knocked out, Foreman was on his knees praying. In the excitement his brother, Roy, passed out in the ring, but a physician said later, “He’s O.K. “
And will Foreman continue?
“It’s too soon to say,” he said. “But I want to fight in the Astrodome. It’s my dream.” He is from Houston.
He entered the ring to a joyful sounds of “If I Had a Hammer,” looking all business in a gray hooded sweatshirt soaked with perspiration. He had on those baggy orange shorts.
Moorer, who won the championship only six months ago from Evander Holyfield, strode in to rap music, wearing a bright yellow robe over gold shorts. His handlers walked around holding his championship belts aloft.
Moorer got the first good blow, a left hook. that made the water bounce off the top of Foreman’s bald head.
Moorer connected with a few more right jabs against Foreman, who presented a stolid figure, as if waiting to unload a right. It was part of his strategy, he was to claim, to wait it out until the time was right, until Moorer could not get up again.
Foreman stood after the round, while Moorer was ministered to by Atlas, who had worked on preparing Moorer for George’s mind games as well as right uppercut.
Outwardly, the champion and the challenger represented a study in contrasts.
Snarling and intimidating, Foreman mowed down heavyweights and brushed aside friends in his rush to the title he captured from Frazier. But three years after losing it to Ali in Zaire, he dropped a decision to Jimmy Young in Puerto Rico.
After showering, he stormed out, dripping wet and started screaming that he had to find God. He tried to get back into the arena. His trainer, Gil Clancy, had to hold him down. Foreman became a preacher and didn’t fight for 10 years.