Canada's largest school district ended its police program. Now Toronto may be an example for U.S. districts considering the same.

As New Hampshire schools debate the presence of police officers stationed in schools, one model they and other states can consider is found at Minnesota Intermediate School District 287. That district lowered in-school arrests dramatically by replacing school resource officers (SROs) with student safety coaches, trained in de-escalation tactics and crisis intervention. While some staff cite safety fears now, school officials say healthier relationships form between staff and students when help, not law enforcement, is the response to problems.

In their Group Violence Intervention program, Kalamazoo police use "custom notifications" to intervene before street violence erupts. Working in tandem with community groups, the police tell likely shooters that more violence will get them arrested and imprisoned, but stopping now will be rewarded with job help and other services. Progress is slow. It gets measured one by one as young men get jobs and stay out of trouble. The pandemic disrupted the program, followed by a surge in violence. Community members praise the approach as an alternative to overly aggressive policing, but want more services programs.

The Minneapolis school board’s vote to remove police from public schools arose not only from protests over the police killing of George Floyd, but also from a long-term advocacy project to end the so-called school-to-prison pipeline. Local youth activists for years have piggybacked on a national movement to stop the racially disparate practice of criminalizing student misbehavior. A coalition of groups, nationally and in Minneapolis, marshaled evidence of the racial inequity of such policing and the benefits of reinvesting the money saved on police in restorative justice programs and other services.

Richmond, California’s Office of Neighborhood Safety uses controversial monthly cash stipends among the incentives it gives to young men it’s trying to steer away from street violence. While the program's first years were associated with steep drops in shootings and homicides, critics question whether ONS deserves the credit and whether it can be replicated in other cities. A deep look at how it works finds evidence that it does make a positive difference while operating in a complex arena of advances and setbacks.

Since Richmond, California’s Office of Neighborhood Safety began paying stipends to its “fellows” – the dozens of young men it works with at any given time who are deemed to be at high risk of gun-violence involvement – nearly all of its subjects have survived. Other evidence of its success is anecdotal or merely suggestive of an effect on the city’s violence. While the police chief warily credits it for being a positive force, others in the community are skeptical, if not outright antagonistic.

Less than a year after Rochester experienced its own version of the George Floyd case, when a clash with police led to the death of Daniel Prude, a man in a mental health crisis, Rochester diverted money from the police to fund a Person In Crisis team to respond differently to such crises. Two mental health and social workers accompany police on relevant calls 24/7, about 100 calls per week. Their presence can de-escalate potentially violent encounters and get people the help they need without an arrest.

Montgomery County's longtime crisis response center illustrates the pitfalls of embracing a policing alternative without proper resources or thinking through the implications. The racial-justice protests of 2020 inspired many more cities and counties to explore mobile crisis response teams instead of police, to minimize violence and get people needed help instead of incarceration. While Montgomery County's team often deescalates crises and can either provide care or refer people to needed services, it lacks the staff to respond effectively. And the system of mental health care is too thin for the need.

"Gang contracts" are used by many schools as a way to tell students they are suspected of gang activity and must avoid such activity or face discipline or expulsion. Gang contracts have been put to extensive use in the high schools and middle schools of two towns, Cicero and Berwyn, that underwent large demographic shifts toward more Latinx residents since the 1990s. Meant to make schools safer and put students on a better path, they have been based often on vague, unsubstantiated suspicions in Cicero and Berwyn. Critics cite evidence that young people are wrongly criminalized and denied educations.

Alameda and Santa Cruz counties have fielded their own mobile teams to respond to mental health crises as alternatives to police-only responses. Aimed at reducing conflicts with police, overuse of hospitals and jails, and involuntarily commitments for short-term emergency mental health care, the services' limited hours and resources mean that the police still handle the majority of such calls. Alameda's pilot, begun in July 2020, is able to provide help to about one-third of the four dozen monthly calls it gets. Santa Cruz's volume is higher. Impacts on involuntary commitments unclear.

Rochester's Person In Crisis team, launched in response to the death of Daniel Prude in police custody during a mental health crisis, began a six-month pilot project in January. PIC uses a "co-response model" of crisis intervention, sending social workers alone or with police, as first responders or called in by police at a scene, to connect non-violent people with needed services. PIC teams work 24/7, replacing or supplementing police on calls where help, not arrest, will resolve the problem, and empathetic conversation can work better in places where distrust of the police runs high.