PHILADELPHIA—On a freezing February morning, Philadelphia police officer Vanity Cordero received a call over her radio about a man threatening to leap from a bridge. The situation had a ring of familiarity to it.
Cordero quickly realized she had encountered this individual months prior at the same bridge. During their prior meeting, she managed to de-escalate the situation by engaging him in a conversation about his family and offering him a warm meal.
Cordero is part of a specialized program dedicated to de-escalation techniques and providing individuals with connections to services and follow-up support. This approach offers an alternative to immediate arrest and entry into the criminal justice system.
Initiated as a pilot program towards the end of 2022, the unit came into existence nearly two years after the tragic police shooting of Walter Wallace Jr., who was experiencing a mental health crisis when authorities responded to his mother’s call for help.
Research over the last two decades highlights that individuals with severe mental illness are over 10 times more susceptible to experiencing force during police interactions.
Following the incident involving Wallace, both the police and the city invested resources into initiatives aimed at responding better to mental health emergencies—an endeavor mirrored by numerous police departments nationwide.
What sets Philadelphia’s unit apart is the comprehensive follow-up resources and the personal experiences of the officers who make up the team. Many, like Cordero, are driven by personal connections to join the program—either through family members with mental illnesses or prior interactions with at-risk individuals.
Cordero herself spent her childhood with her uncle, who was under her mother’s care due to an intellectual disability—something that today might be labeled as autism. She has become an advocate for improving police interactions with individuals on the autism spectrum.
“When I’m on the street and serving in the community, I see everyone as someone’s uncle or family member,” Cordero noted. “It gives you an edge, more patience, and compassion for those in need of help.”
That February morning, Cordero rushed to the bridge to support responding patrol officers.
The CIRT (Crisis Intervention Response Team) operates somewhat informally—using SUVs without police lights or decals, and dressed in less formal uniforms. They are often requested by other officers and also choose citywide calls to respond to.
Initially standing back until needed, the man noticed Cordero and jokingly commented on her lighter skin tone compared to their last encounter. They bantered about her losing her tan over the winter, with Cordero reminding him about the cold, especially on the bridge.
Hours later, the man was on his way to a mandatory mental health evaluation, with clinician Krystian Gardner planning to follow up with resources for his family.
Mental health inquiries have become an increasing facet of police duties. Many officers recall that a substantial portion of their regular patrol work involved mental health-related calls. However, typical officers have only a few minutes to address a call before moving on to the next incident.
The CIRT team, however, devotes, on average, over an hour with each individual, explains Lt. Victoria Casale, who oversees the unit.
“Regular policing doesn’t afford the time or resources to commit hours to one call,” Casale said. “But we want our officers to invest time in individuals. We aren’t moving on; we are working to resolve these issues with them.”
The unit’s clinicians, associated with the nonprofit Merakey—a behavioral health service provider—bring additional experience and resources to the process.
Audrey Lundy, program director at Merakey, described reassessing typical welfare checks after one of her first calls with the team. Instead of merely checking in on a mother absent from work, they provided groceries using a flexible needs spending card. The woman had fallen ill, couldn’t work, and was facing financial difficulties.
Providing the groceries led to broader discussions about resources available to help her with educational expenses, long-term costs, and, eventually, returning to her job.
Officers relish the opportunity to act as problem solvers. Officer Kenneth Harper, a Marine veteran, appreciates his CIRT role, which allows him to assist fellow veterans struggling with the transition to civilian life or grappling with mental health challenges.
Harper recounted earning the trust of a highly decorated Army veteran who had never sought assistance. Together with another officer with a military background, they gradually secured him treatment at the veterans hospital and assistance with housing. They maintained contact for months afterward.
Casale acknowledges Harper’s above-and-beyond approach, including recruiting other veterans within the department to provide training on trauma responses and resources for veterans.
The small eight-officer CIRT team has extended its influence across the city during weekdays, even as crises persist during nights and weekends. Casale aspires for the team’s expansion as more districts grow familiar with and trust their efforts.
“We want them to call us,” Cordero mentioned, referring to regular connections beyond emergencies. “We can just go eat. We don’t have to keep meeting on this bridge.”
This piece mentions the topic of suicide. If you or someone you know requires assistance, the national suicide and crisis lifeline in the U.S. is reachable by call or text at 988, with an online chat available at 988lifeline.org.