The Heart of Collaboration: A Mother’s Mission Born of Tragedy

Nicole Clavo, recently appointed by Sacramento City Manager Howard Chan to serve as the Manager of the Office of Violence Prevention for the city, oversees a budget of $1.7 Million.

She previously served as one of fifteen Chief Labor Negotiators for the California Correctional Peace Officers Association. The core purpose of her office is to prevent gang violence, to stop the killing, to keep young black men out of jail, and to set them on a path to a positive future.

When I asked why she took this job, why it was important to her, she said, “My 17-year-old son was killed on the way to a football playoff game.  Several players had stopped at Popeye’s, gotten something to eat, and got back in the car headed to the game.  They stopped at a three-way stop sign and a 15-year-old young man associated with a local gang, Strawberry Manor, shot into the car.”  My son Jaulon was killed. Before, this office didn’t have a mom whose child was gunned down. This is my life. My mission is to stop the deaths, the decimation of our youth.”

Her vision is to bring “true collaboration” to a city where most have worked in silos.  “I want to bring community-based agencies, such as Liberty Towers, Brother to Brother, Rose Family, Advance Peace, schools, mental health organizations, the police, and the faith community together as one.”

Having a comprehensive, citywide violence prevention collaborative is not unusual in California where the California Violence Prevention Network began in 2007. But what is unusual is that Nicole’s collaborative includes law enforcement.  “True collaboration must include law enforcement.  They can provide information that we often don’t have access to such as their involvement in the streets, family dynamics, or if a youth who is beginning to get into serious trouble may just need to be seen, like really seen and heard, or may need a mentor or a street worker. They identify hot spots where we can best deploy our ‘Violence Interrupters,’ those that work at night intervening between victim and victimizer, trying to stop trouble before it starts, trying to get a positive person in some of these youths’ lives. Once a year, community members ride along with the police.  We call it ‘A Day in My Shoes.’  This helps build trust.

“And we include youth: they’re being killed.  We must know them, listen to them, include them in our work.  They are at the table.”

“Having law enforcement as an integral part of a community collaboration is rare,” I note.  “Why does it work here?” “First,” she responds, “respect.  We’re in it together, not just as functionaries, but as people who know and care about each other and the community.  The relationship has been built over time.  We’ve had to overcome hurdles, but we’ve stayed at it and it works.  And then there’s Chief Hahn,” she adds.  “He’s the chief and he cares deeply about these kids.  He grew up here, grew up in a tough area. As a black man and a black father he feels this issue deeply.

“Another reason it works is because the Chief exposes all new officers, those being trained in the Academy, to the community and when assigned they’re assigned to a certain area.  It is there –with the captains, lieutenants, and line officers– that we forge relationships on the ground.”  She pauses.  “You know we have the same goal: to save lives.”

“This is tough work, brutally tough work.  What keeps you going?” I ask.  Without hesitation she replies, “The support of the community, relationships, faith in family, faith in God, and a commitment that I will be a survivor, not a victim.”

Nicole’s affect is steady, her tone even, her answers clear and thoughtful.  I have helped to start and launch coalitions across the nation, but this one, Sacramento’s, at its very core is different, for its heart beat, its very pulse, is that of a mom who lost a son to gang violence, a mom who doesn’t want another child to die.