My sister lived on Suismon Street for almost 20 years. Cars would fly past her house all day long — commuters treating our Deutschtown neighborhood, we joked bleakly, as nothing more than an on-ramp for I-279 North.
This past week, though, traffic has been both heavier and slower. Vehicles now creep west, toward the three-story building facing the highway, where shattered windows and media vans mark the site of last Sunday morning’s deadly shooting.
It is one thing to see a tragic news story from a distant city. It is another thing entirely to listen to friends’ and neighbors’ voices break when they describe diving to the floor as gunfire ruptured the night.
Or describe watching teenagers leap from second-story windows and hobble away. Or not hobble away but rather lie motionless on the ground.
Emotions have been raw for days. Emotions were raw Thursday night when Pittsburgh Police Chief Scott Schubert, Public Safety Director Lee Schmidt, Councilman Bobby Wilson and other officials joined our community group for a special public-safety meeting.
We were there to discuss the Easter Sunday shooting that erupted during a massive party at the corner of Suismon and Madison Avenue. With perhaps 200 people, many of them minors, packed into the Airbnb rental, the party ended with two deaths and a dozen or so injuries.
The public meeting drew about 50 people, plus officials and media, to Spring Garden’s St. Michael and All Angels Church. Another 32 citizens or more attended via Zoom.
Although the evening began with thoughtful statements from public officials, Councilman Wilson soon said, “I don’t want this to be a press conference,” and a microphone began its path around the room.
Distinct viewpoints quickly emerged from residents, Airbnb hosts and a few who are both. People who lived closest to the event were understandably the most emotional. Younger adults were quicker to express mistrust of the police, but everything, apart from a few scoffing sounds, remained civilized. These days, that’s noteworthy.
Mistrust, even hostility, toward the police is a significant problem everywhere. Unlike the public-safety challenge of unidentified short-term rentals and unreachable owners, our society’s fractured view of law enforcement cannot be resolved with a city council bill.
The questions were insistent. Why didn’t the police realize there was a huge party going on? Why didn’t they notice the unusual number of cars parked nearby? Why didn’t they break it up?
Why didn’t they immediately say that they’d visited the property more than an hour before the shooting due to a neighbor’s noise complaint?
Chief Schubert stepped forward to answer questions, particularly the last one. “That was me,” he said. “I didn’t know.”
His assertion stands to reason. The first press conference was just hours after the shooting, on a Sunday, a holiday. Communications would not have been flowing as usual, especially after such a chaotic event.
There are reasonable answers to those other questions, too; some are emerging in news coverage, some are common sense. From the front door, officers could not see guests on the second floor.
They wouldn’t know how many cars are normal, especially with a busy bar just across the adjacent parking lot. And police cannot enter a property without “probable cause” or the owner’s approval.
But officials wisely refrained from playing defense. We were there to share our anguish, to express concern, to encourage one another. They were there to acknowledge the community’s hurt and reaffirm their commitment to our well-being.
Which they did, some with emotional eloquence. This “horrific thing” has grievously wounded numerous families across the region, Chief Schubert said, “and it affects you too. … It happened to you, to your community.”
He used the word “traumatized.” It rang true.
“Young lives should not be lost. Young lives should not have guns.”
We all remember underage parties, he said. “We’re not going to stop them from being kids. We have to find a way to let kids be kids safely.”
But the safe way is not cool. In our invincible youth, we love the forbidden, the hint of veiled danger. When danger is unveiled, there is grief.
ruthanndailey@hotmail.com
First Published: April 24, 2022, 4:00 a.m.
