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Sunday Edition: A tightrope act atop the Skyline Center (October 13, 2024)

City council after a closed session, shortly before adjourning.
Benjamin Schachtman
/
WHQR
City council after a closed session, shortly before adjourning.

Sunday Edition is a weekly newsletter from WHQR's News Director Benjamin Schachtman, featuring behind-the-scenes looks at our reporting, context and analysis of ongoing stories, and semi-weekly columns about the news and media issues in general. This editorial is an excerpt from the original version.

WHQR's Sunday Edition is a free weekly newsletter delivered every Sunday morning. You can sign up for Sunday Edition here.


On Friday afternoon, Wilmington’s city council met in the boardroom on the 12th floor of the Skyline Center, the penthouse suite that the city recently took over. Looking south out of the boardroom windows, the Cape Fear River sparkled under a broad blue sky, a multi-million dollar vantage from the tallest building in the city.

But no one was really looking at the view.

Council was there for a specially called meeting to consider a ‘personnel issue.’ Technically, the specifics of the meeting were confidential, but it’s not really a secret: they were there to talk about the Wilmington Police Department and Chief Donny Williams. Last week, WHQR broke the story that the city had spent $75,000 on a third-party firm’s investigation of allegations against Williams and management issues at the department.

There is, of course, a report of the firm’s findings, but under state law it is confidential. Not even council members are privy to it. But, as I wrote in this week’s edition of The Dive, there is an exception: if council and City Manager Tony Caudle agree that seeing the contents of the report is essential to maintaining public trust or the quality of the department's operation, the city can release it.

It’s a delicate balancing act between the confidentiality afforded to government employees like Williams, and the need to maintain the public’s confidence.

That, I think it’s fair to say, accounted for some of the tension in the room. After a few minutes of halting small talk, Mayor Bill Saffo gaveled the meeting open, and immediately took council into closed session. I was escorted down the hall to a small conference room, where I waited for a little less than an hour.

When council re-entered open session, they took no action, and promptly adjourned. The report was not released, and no one commented, although Councilman Luke Waddell later said the community “deserves and expects transparency” and called the open acknowledgment of concerns about leadership “essential.”

Waddell has been the most vocal about issues at WPD. In July, he described conversations he’d had with ‘rank and file’ officers who had concerns about the lack of transparency in the pay and promotion policies at the department. Councilman Kevin Spears pushed back, suggesting that Waddell’s open criticism of the department – and, more to the point, of Williams – made him the obvious place for disgruntled officers to go. Spears is Black and Waddell is white, but Spears didn’t directly invoke a racial dynamic.

But it’s hard to ignore. Williams is the city’s first Black police chief. And that’s bound to add tension to the city’s tightrope act.

Williams has never shied away from the importance of his race. He’s spoken about his deep roots in Creekwood, where he grew up, and the pride members of the Black community, especially in Wilmington’s inner city, felt when he was named chief. His upbringing shaped his view on community policing – but it’s more than policy to Williams, it’s destiny.

“This is what God had planned for me. God planned it back in 1971, that I would be the first African-American chief of the Wilmington Police Department,” Williams said several years ago.

In my conversations, in person and on social media, I’ve heard and seen a lot of support for Williams. Many have drawn parallels to the firing of NHCS Superintendent Dr. Charles Foust and the ouster of New Hanover Community Endowment CEO William Buster, both prominent Black men working for largely white boards. The subtext has frequently been that Williams is battling racist efforts to undermine him.

In a blistering letter written to city council members, Deborah Dicks Maxwell, president of the North Carolina NAACP, made that subtext explicit.

She criticized Waddell for meeting privately with officers, suggesting strongly that they may have violated WPD policy, breaking the chain of command by eschewing a meeting with Williams or Caudle and going to Waddell.

“If we had to guess, we would imagine most of these employees look like Luke Waddell as far as diversity goes,” Dicks Maxwell wrote. “With these meetings … only he and those with issues know who is present. This is reminiscent of classic 1898 tactics whose anniversary is one month away today [...] These clandestine meetings with Councilman Waddell demonstrate the good ole boy system that is systemic and has mainly aligned with racism within the WPD.”

I can’t speak for Waddell, but it’s true that many – although not all – of the law enforcement officers I’ve spoken to about this issue have been white. It’s a complex situation. Most acknowledged that their race – even their privilege – puts a conspicuous asterisk next to what they have to say. But they also claim the very real issue of racism has been used to deflect concerns about WPD leadership; several also said they’d exhausted the official channels, including the city’s HR department.

And, there’s the elephant that is, four years later, still in the room: the 2020 firing of three WPD officers after they were recorded making racist comments. I’ve seen the recordings, and I can testify that they are even worse – exponentially, ineffably worse – than the words appearing in the transcript. As a white person, and a journalist who has never worn a badge, I won’t pretend I’ll ever know what it was like for Williams to sit and watch that video.

All of that is to say, when racism is invoked in Williams’ defense, it can’t be dismissed out of hand. The evidence is there, raw and bleeding, in our recent past. And Williams’ handling of the situation – direct, candid, and transparent – was exemplary.

So, for me, here is the issue: the lack of transparency around the allegations and the investigation is the worst kind of fetid darkness. Any suspicion can grow.

When Foust was fired, the five white school board members, three Republicans and two Democrats, who voted to remove him refused to explain why. That led the local NAACP to demand transparency – and weeks of speculation that racism on the board had transcended party when it came to Foust. I don’t think that’s what happened – but it’s hard to push back on the claims with no on-the-record rebuttal. Ditto when Buster was pushed out at the Endowment without an explanation. In the absence of an answer, the community provided their own theories.

And now, with Williams, it’s happening again.

Mayor Saffo, city council, city staff – I’m sure they’re aware of the delicate situation, the visceral pain and frustration you still hear from Wilmington’s Black community, and what firing – or even publicly criticizing Williams – could do.

If Williams is the victim of a good old boy network of racists, then that cabal should be dug out by the root. And if the complaints against Williams are sustained, he should be held accountable. And if the situation is messier and more complicated – as it almost always is – that shouldn’t be an excuse not to explain it to the public.

Sunlight is the best disinfectant. I hope the city doesn’t pull down the penthouse shades.

The penthouse view from the Skyline Center.
Benjamin Schachtman
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Benjamin Schachtman
The penthouse view from the Skyline Center.

Ben Schachtman is a journalist and editor with a focus on local government accountability. He began reporting for Port City Daily in the Wilmington area in 2016 and took over as managing editor there in 2018. He’s a graduate of Rutgers College and later received his MA from NYU and his PhD from SUNY-Stony Brook, both in English Literature. He loves spending time with his wife and playing rock'n'roll very loudly. You can reach him at BSchachtman@whqr.org and find him on Twitter @Ben_Schachtman.