Updated: 11:17 p.m. January 27, 2009
Self-defense classes, gun licenses rise in response to crime
Atlanta police say crime decreasing, but residents say they feel less safe
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
In early December, three heavily armed men broke into Chris Devoe’s Little Five Points apartment and attacked him and a friend.
One intruder struck Devoe repeatedly in the head with a shotgun and then tied his hands with a cord. Two took his friend, Rachael Spiewak, into another room and sexually assaulted her. The third left with the victims’ ATM cards and passwords, returned, and then he, too, sexually assaulted her.
Allen Sullivan/aesullivan@ajc.com
Cheri Fine practices self-defense during a course at Trinity Fitness in Atlanta.
Allen Sullivan/aesullivan@ajc.com
Nathan Nowak, owner of Trinity Fitness, teaches a self-defense class.
Word of the attack spread quickly through Atlanta’s gentrifying intown neighborhoods. It became one of a string of violent crimes that together shook residents’ sense of security.
Some responded by forming neighborhood groups and calling for more police protection. Others enrolled in self-defense classes. Still others say they have armed themselves, and applications for new gun permits nearly doubled in Fulton and DeKalb counties from 2007 to 2008, according to statistics from the county probate courts.
Spiewak, a 27-year-old social worker who manages a bicycle co-op, says the assault tested her values, but she felt she passed the test. She didn’t change. Like many of her neighbors, she wants additional cops on the street, but also more community centers, youth programs and better access to public transportation.
“The answer is always non-violence,” said Spiewak, who asked to be named in this article even though The Atlanta Journal-Constitution usually does not identify victims of sexual attacks.
Atlanta residents are finding a variety of ways to react to crime.
After a wave of robberies at upscale boutiques, Lindsay Daniel, owner of Poppy’s boutique in Buckhead, decided she didn’t want a weapon that could be taken from her and used against her. She installed a buzzer system at her store and signed up for self-defense classes.
“I just figured, ‘Can’t hurt.’ Not only in my work setting, but walking across the grocery store parking lot,” said Daniel, 30.
Malinda Adams, a Grant Park condo owner who noticed more break-ins in the neighborhood, has a different answer. The 48-year-old has a security system and a strike plate on her door, and, in December, she brought a pistol home. “I would use and I will use it,” Adams said. “I hope I don’t have to.”
Gun ownership has become a hot topic on message boards and social networking sites dedicated to intown crime concerns. And some of the remarks following the Jan. 15 fatal shooting of a robbery suspect by his intended victim outside an East Atlanta bar illustrated an undercurrent of vigilantism.
“I wish we could have a story like this every day!” wrote one commenter on the newly formed Atlantans Together Against Crime’s Facebook page. A woman who identified herself as a waitress in East Atlanta Village replied, “I’m so glad this happened!”
The man who shot Jamarcus Usher, the would-be mugger, has been identified as David M. Stanley, 28.
One of ATAC’s founders said he was disturbed by some of the comments by group members, though he understands the gut response.
“When confronted with a violent crime, your immediate reaction is ‘I want to get a gun,’” said Kyle Keyser, who was robbed at gunpoint outside a North Avenue restaurant Dec. 17. He thought about buying a firearm but decided against it. “We’re not here to say it’s right or wrong,” Keyser said of his organization.
ATAC formed and gathered more than 5,000 members online after the slaying of bartender John Henderson earlier this month at a restaurant on Memorial Drive. The group held the first in a series of planned monthly rallies Monday night in Little Five Points, attracting 175 people.
In a recent interview, Atlanta Police Chief Richard Pennington said crime in some neighborhoods is decreasing even as the public outcry in those same areas is growing. He attributes residents’ reactions to their ability to share and organize.
“If they hear about a crime going on down the street, everyone gets nervous,” Pennington said. “And so they want to make sure nobody else becomes a victim. And they have a right to do that.”
Robert Friedmann, a professor of criminal justice at Georgia State University, said crime can’t be eliminated, but with a “tremendous” amount of work, communities can minimize it. “If you want to make a difference, values need to be clearly articulated, laws have to be clearly articulated,” Friedmann said.
But values can — and do — change, said Jason Hatcher, a 14-year Atlanta resident. In 1996, Hatcher pulled his gun on a man who threatened him with a knife at a gas station. Afterward, Hatcher decided he couldn’t handle a court case or the stress of shooting another person. He locked his guns safely at home and let his gun license lapse.
But after recent break-ins and vandalism near his home on a dead-end street in Ormewood Park, he says, he’s changed again.
One recent night, he heard a car creep down the street, squeaking brakes, four doors slamming. He called 911, grabbed his gun and went outside. Men with a police-style battering ram approached the home of a neighbor who was out of town.
“They knocked the door completely, shattered the door frame, knocked it off its hinges, knocked it almost off the frame,” said Hatcher, 38. “It happened so quickly.”
The men spotted Hatcher — and his gun. They held up their own weapons, while he dropped to the floor and slammed the door. No shots were fired and the men fled. Police arrived about 90 seconds later, Hatcher said.
Now residents on his street are forming a neighborhood watch with patrols. He’s got an alarm system and two large dogs. An Atlanta police detective visited this week and said patrols in the area would increase, he said. Still, Hatcher plans to reapply for a gun permit, and to carry his weapon wherever it’s legal.
“I don’t want to kill people. I’m not a vigilante,” Hatcher said. “I feel unsafe in my home, unsafe on my street. I feel the fear of my neighbors — single moms, with children. That only adds to the bulk of my own personal emotions.
“If you were me the other night — it will change your life.”
— Staff writer Tim Eberly contributed to this report.



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