Francisco police department was fully integrated as to gender and race at all levels of command, and also had fewer police brutality incidents or complaints than any other city of comparable size in the United States.
The district attorney’s office, Pratt concluded, was functioning “with an efficiency that is the envy of every other bureaucracy in the city and county of San Francisco.”
She looked out over the crowd, deciding that she had them, that the time was ripe. Lifting some pages from the podium, she dropped them onto the table next to her. “All that said,” she continued, “it must be admitted now that, with hindsight, I can see that some of the outreach programs, initiated by my office in the early days of this administration, and with the best of intentions, may not have achieved the success that I hoped for.”
A palpable sense of expectation swept the room. Suddenly people were sitting up straighter, paying attention. She paused significantly, lifted her chin, steeled her gaze. “In preparation for coming to talk to all of you today, late last week I had written the usual political speech to tell you how well we’re doing. And in fact, as I’ve indicated, there are areas of success to which we can point with pride. Now, though, I’m going to leave my prepared remarks. Please bear with me as I speak from my heart.
“Last weekend, the city suffered a terrible loss. I’m speaking, of course, of Elaine Wager, not only the daughter of our late beloved senator but in her own right one of the great lights in the city’s firmament.” Pratt paused for a sip of water, gathered herself and went on. “One of the most difficult lessons I’ve had to learn on the prosecution side of the bar is that there is real evil cast among us. My training and background has led me to try and understand the causes of antisocial behavior and to seek solutions through incarceration, yes, but also through counseling and education. I remain proud of the programs we’ve adopted that seek to temper justice with mercy, that have tried to inject compassion and understanding into the judicial process.
“But the events of the past few days have brought home some hard truths and today I am here to deliver a message that may have become blurred in my administration’s zeal for fairness, tolerance and empathy for desperate people who are driven to desperate acts. And that message is this: People who break the law in San Francisco are going to be punished.”
Pratt let the substantial round of applause wash over her, took another sip of water, then waited for silence. When it came, she spoke in a voice thick with conviction—it was time to go into campaign mode. “There are those who say that I am soft on crime, that I am too compassionate to fulfill the duties of district attorney. To those people, let me announce what may be correctly interpreted as a sea change in the policy of this administration.
“The police have arrested a man—a homeless man, a drug addict—who has confessed to the murder of Elaine Wager, a murder in the course of which he took her purse, jewelry and other possessions. California law defines murder in the commission of a robbery as a special circumstances crime and prescribes only two possible penalties—life in prison without the possibility of parole, and death.”
Pratt was aware of the drama of the moment. The silence in the room was perfect—even the waiters were still, hanging on her conclusion.
“I want there to be no mistake. It is the intention of the district attorney to seek the death penalty in this case. This is the word I’m putting out to the criminal element in this city, the line that today I draw in the sand—street violence, all violent crime, stops here. The law will be enforced. For as long as I remain district attorney, here is the policy of my office: If you are unfortunate or dispossessed, mercy will still have its place”—her hands gripped either side of the
The district attorney’s office, Pratt concluded, was functioning “with an efficiency that is the envy of every other bureaucracy in the city and county of San Francisco.”
She looked out over the crowd, deciding that she had them, that the time was ripe. Lifting some pages from the podium, she dropped them onto the table next to her. “All that said,” she continued, “it must be admitted now that, with hindsight, I can see that some of the outreach programs, initiated by my office in the early days of this administration, and with the best of intentions, may not have achieved the success that I hoped for.”
A palpable sense of expectation swept the room. Suddenly people were sitting up straighter, paying attention. She paused significantly, lifted her chin, steeled her gaze. “In preparation for coming to talk to all of you today, late last week I had written the usual political speech to tell you how well we’re doing. And in fact, as I’ve indicated, there are areas of success to which we can point with pride. Now, though, I’m going to leave my prepared remarks. Please bear with me as I speak from my heart.
“Last weekend, the city suffered a terrible loss. I’m speaking, of course, of Elaine Wager, not only the daughter of our late beloved senator but in her own right one of the great lights in the city’s firmament.” Pratt paused for a sip of water, gathered herself and went on. “One of the most difficult lessons I’ve had to learn on the prosecution side of the bar is that there is real evil cast among us. My training and background has led me to try and understand the causes of antisocial behavior and to seek solutions through incarceration, yes, but also through counseling and education. I remain proud of the programs we’ve adopted that seek to temper justice with mercy, that have tried to inject compassion and understanding into the judicial process.
“But the events of the past few days have brought home some hard truths and today I am here to deliver a message that may have become blurred in my administration’s zeal for fairness, tolerance and empathy for desperate people who are driven to desperate acts. And that message is this: People who break the law in San Francisco are going to be punished.”
Pratt let the substantial round of applause wash over her, took another sip of water, then waited for silence. When it came, she spoke in a voice thick with conviction—it was time to go into campaign mode. “There are those who say that I am soft on crime, that I am too compassionate to fulfill the duties of district attorney. To those people, let me announce what may be correctly interpreted as a sea change in the policy of this administration.
“The police have arrested a man—a homeless man, a drug addict—who has confessed to the murder of Elaine Wager, a murder in the course of which he took her purse, jewelry and other possessions. California law defines murder in the commission of a robbery as a special circumstances crime and prescribes only two possible penalties—life in prison without the possibility of parole, and death.”
Pratt was aware of the drama of the moment. The silence in the room was perfect—even the waiters were still, hanging on her conclusion.
“I want there to be no mistake. It is the intention of the district attorney to seek the death penalty in this case. This is the word I’m putting out to the criminal element in this city, the line that today I draw in the sand—street violence, all violent crime, stops here. The law will be enforced. For as long as I remain district attorney, here is the policy of my office: If you are unfortunate or dispossessed, mercy will still have its place”—her hands gripped either side of the
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