Black in Blue: Lessons on Leadership, Breaking Barriers, and Racial Reconciliation

By Carmen Best

Whatever your position is on Black Lives Matter, defunding the police, and equity in law enforcement, former police chief Carmen Best shares the leadership lessons she learned as the first Black woman to lead the Seattle Police Department—a personal insider story that will challenge your assumptions on how to move the country forward.

Chief Carmen Best has spent the last 28 years as a member of a big-city police force, an institution where minorities and women have historically found it especially difficult to succeed. She defied the odds and became the first Black woman to lead the Seattle Police Department. 

During her tenure, she was successful in bringing significantly more diversity to the force. However, when the city council cut her budget amid months of protests against police violence, she had no choice but to step aside. Without the city’s support, she felt she wouldn’t be able to continue changing the status quo of the police force from within.

Throughout her career, Chief Best has learned lessons that those coming up behind her can benefit from. In this book, she will use her story to share those urgent lessons. Readers will read about:

• How Chief Best grew up to believe in the change she set out to create.
• Her early days in the police force, including lessons from the academy and her time on patrol.
• How she progressed in her career within a primarily white law enforcement culture and the events that led to her becoming Chief.
• How she built her team and overcame the politics involved in her high-level position until the call for defunding came.

Carmen Best teaches readers the core qualities and mindset to persevere and rise through the ranks, even within a workplace whose culture and leadership must be challenged, and policies changed on the way to achieving that vision. Her motivating story serves as a master class in guiding principles for anyone striving to serve their community and rise to the highest echelon of success.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Thomas Nelson
• Release date: Oct 25, 2021
• ISBN: 9781400230624

Carmen Best

Police Chief Carmen Best was the first Black woman to lead Seattle's police force until she announced her resignation in August 2020 following budget cuts. Chief Best was hired by the Seattle Police Department in 1992 and, prior to being appointed chief, had held the ranks of officer, sergeant, lieutenant, captain, and deputy chief. Chief Best took over as interim chief of police on January 1, 2018, replacing Kathleen O'Toole, and was later appointed permanent chief by Seattle Mayor Jenny Durkan, effective from August 13, 2018. She became the first Black woman to serve as Seattle's chief of police. On August 10, 2020, after the Seattle City Council voted to downsize the department by about 100 officers, she resigned, stating that she could not in good conscience shrink and thereby reduce diversity in the department which she had just grown by 110 officers in 2019 (with 40% of those new hires being persons of color). Under police union rules, the last hired would be the first to be laid off, disproportionately affecting officers of color.

Book preview

INTRODUCTION

LET’S HAVE AN honest conversation, shall we? Police brutality is real. Racism is real. Sexism is real. These are truths that simply cannot be denied. We read about them every day in the newspapers, we see them on television, and we witness them in our neighborhoods, as more and more stories of African American men and women whose lives are stolen by White police officers saturate our brains and crush our hearts.

I have served in the Seattle police force for almost thirty years, and the last almost three years of my career I was appointed chief of police, the first Black woman to ever hold that role in Seattle. And believe me when I tell you that, as a woman working in a male-dominated field and a Black Lives Matter supporter employed by the police force, I have experienced firsthand how excruciatingly present—and just how deeply rooted—racism and sexism are in every aspect of society, and yes that includes policing.

I started my career the same year that police officers assaulted Rodney King in Los Angeles, and I retired the same year that police officers killed George Floyd and Breonna Taylor—just to name two of the 164 African Americans killed by the police in the first eight months of 2020. These were the same killings that in June 2020 prompted the Capitol Hill Autonomous Zone (CHAZ) in Seattle, which soon escalated to the Capitol Hill Occupied Protest (CHOP), where people occupied the East Precinct and the streets while carrying weapons and inciting the crowds with signs that read Who prosecutes the police? Black Lives Matter! Defund the police! Abolish SPD! The day before my retirement, after witnessing so much pain in my community, I remember thinking to myself: How is it that we are still facing the same issues we faced almost thirty years ago when I began my career in policing? I carried a badge and a gun for nearly three decades and my only goal was to make things better. Did I accomplish that?

As chief, I led a group of officers that better mirrored the cultural diversity that characterizes our country—reaching record-breaking diversity hiring and recruitment within the department. I strived to engage with my community to ensure public safety, gender equity, and inclusion. I applauded and supported officers who positively influenced the community, and I fired those whose morals, values, and codes of conduct to me smacked of racism and sexism, thus going against the core principles of policing—those officers who, fueled by their poisonous prejudices, served apart from the community instead of serving as part of the community.

Yet, while much has changed, it hasn’t been nearly enough, and these pervasive problems still exist. More violent riots erupted, more people demanded to defund the police, and more Black mothers and fathers mourned the loss of their children. And I found myself in the middle of it all, as a Black woman and mother but also the chief of police and defender of the US Constitution, as a believer in law and order as well as in the Black Lives Matter movement. To many, it seemed like the two versions of me couldn’t peacefully coexist in our society. To me, it was a no-brainer: Why wouldn’t I want to be part of the police force? After all, I am a clear representation of what the police force as a whole is: a big dichotomy. But the scale is unbalanced, and I think you would be surprised to learn that, in my opinion, the side weighing more than the other is the positive one.

Over the years, I have witnessed my fellow officers make more of a positive impact in our community and society than a negative one. I have led more officers who cared deeply about their fellow citizens than those who didn’t. I have seen change take place—although not as quickly as we would hope or need—within the police force, such as when my predecessor, a woman, appointed me to be her deputy chief, thus paving the way for me to then one day become the first Black female chief in Seattle.

Racist, sexist, bad people are everywhere in this country, and they work in every profession. Yet stories of police brutality claim the front pages of the country’s newspapers because police officers have the power to take away people’s freedom. They can put people in handcuffs and take them to jail. They can shoot them and harm them—and, under certain circumstances, they do so justifiably. But racism doesn’t start and end with the police force. Racism exists everywhere: in education, health care, and every other industry. And that’s why I am a firm believer that defunding the police is not the answer, because the police force is not the crux of the problem. There is a culturally pervasive and inherent malignancy that manifests itself in almost every aspect of society.

So what can we do to bring forth the change our society so desperately needs? First and foremost, we must acknowledge history. And history tells us that the police force has often been on the wrong side of history, and there’s no way we can make things better unless we are willing to accept the truth of this statement. The police force hasn’t always supported the Black community, the Asian community, the Latino community, the LGBTQ+ community, the poor White community, and the many other minorities that enrich our country but have been marginalized for too long.

Once we finally acknowledge history, we can find ways to avoid repeating the same mistakes. It is my core belief that mistakes don’t start in the actual profession but much earlier, even before a man or woman chooses to become a police officer or a teacher or a doctor or a social worker. It starts at home, and it starts during childhood. Some of the most important leadership principles that I applied throughout my life, especially as chief of police, I learned as a child at home, in school, and among my peers.

And this is what I will be sharing with you in my book: leadership lessons that have helped me not only in my career but also in life, as well as behind-the-scenes accounts on CHAZ, CHOP, and what really happened when my name did not make the list of the top three candidates for the coveted position of chief of police. I will share values and principles that I stood by even when I knew the decisions I made as chief were not going to be well received by the court of public opinion, decisions I stood by because I knew it was the right thing to do.

After all, leading a group of people, an organization, a company, a community means placing your own personal views aside and doing what is lawful and right. And that is the hardest lesson to learn.

PROLOGUE

FRIDAY, MAY 25, 2018

THE SEATTLE WIND, uncharacteristically cold for late spring, greeted me the moment I stepped outside police headquarters, sending a quick chill down my spine and reminding me that I had completely forgotten to put my coat on.

Oh well.

I blamed my unusual absentmindedness on the fact that, during the call, Mayor Jenny Durkan sounded rather cryptic when she said she needed to see me as soon as possible.

As I walked across the street to city hall, I felt my heart rate go up and a surge of energy rush through my body. I began speeding up as if pushed by an invisible motivational force, the kind you get when you know that this is an important day in your life and you’re about to receive that good news you’ve been waiting for.

The faster I walked, the harder the wind hit my face. Yet, for some reason, my skin didn’t feel the piercing chill that the Pacific Northwest wind is known for. It was almost as if that same invisible force had created a shield around me, protecting me against the elements.

Once inside the building, I walked at a quick pace toward the elevator.

Good morning, Chief Best, I heard twice in the distance but didn’t turn to look at who it was. Instead, I kept my eyes focused on that elevator and simply waved in response.

When the elevator doors opened, I stepped inside and quickly pressed the button that would take me to the mayor’s office, on the seventh floor.

Man, does it always take so long? I thought to myself as I stared at the floor numbers slowly changing on the monitor.

Three . . . four . . .

I crossed my arms and kept staring.

Five . . . six . . .

I began tapping with my right foot.

Seven!

I let out a deep sigh and closed my eyes to collect myself before the doors opened.

I walked out of the elevator and headed for her office. Then I knocked on the door—which was slightly open—and waited for my cue.

Please come in.

There it is.

I walked in and offered her a smile. She was sitting behind her conference table, her blonde hair nicely done in her signature longer bob haircut, and dressed elegantly, as always.

Chief Best, she said. Please sit down.

I followed her invite and sat down in front of her, my open palms resting on my lap.

This was it. The moment I had been waiting for since Chief Kathleen O’Toole had stepped down as chief of police and Mayor Durkan appointed me interim chief. The whole community had been buzzing about me becoming chief—and, as much as I tried, it was hard to ignore the rumors, because it meant that people in my community appreciated how much I cared for them and just how hard I worked to ensure their safety. I had been part of the police force since 1992, and if there was one thing I was certain of, it was that I always strove to serve my community. I had so many plans and ideas on how to improve community and police interactions, and I couldn’t wait to get started. I knew the city better than the palm of my hand. I walked every neighborhood, was aware of every safety issue our community faced, and had already been leading fourteen hundred officers for five months now as the interim chief. I knew I was one of the semifinalists and had been waiting to hear that I had made the top three.

I took a deep breath, ready to hear the good news with a smile on my face.

Mayor Durkan looked at me, then down at her conference table as if to avoid making eye contact. This sent shivers down my body, but before I could read her body language even more, she spoke.

You didn’t make the top three.

What?

The invisible force disappeared. The shield disintegrated. The words hit me right in the chest.

What?

My arms fell to the side.

I know it must be so . . . She was talking. I was staring at her, but I didn’t see her. Nor did I hear her.

I know how you feel—her words echoed in the room that suddenly felt empty and cold—it reminds me of that time I was overlooked—what the; I stared at her—for a promotion at the Department of Justice.

I couldn’t believe she was talking about herself. In that very moment.

What the hell does that have to do with me and my situation?

I wanted to scream at her but chose not to voice the thought and left it silent within me. She stopped talking and just looked at me. Her expression and my disappointment brought tears to my eyes, shocking me out of my muted conversation and forcing me to keep my composure.

She and I—and everybody else, for that matter—knew that I was the most qualified one on that list. I had the most education, training, and experience required to be chief of police. Period. I had already put in so much work as the interim, not to mention the decades I had dedicated to the department, the community, the city.

Oh, I said, clearing my voice. Well, I don’t think this was a fair process. If it were, I would have ended up in the top three.

I got up, walked out of her office, and heard them: there was a press conference happening right in the room next to her office, announcing to the media and the public the top three candidates for the position of chief of police.

I had to get out of there before anybody saw me and asked me for a statement. I hadn’t had any time to process what had just happened. Something had gone wrong within this selection process, and the results just didn’t make any sense. I decided to walk down the back stairs, foregoing the elevator to avoid coming across the media; so I left the building through the back way.

Mom, what’s going on? my daughter wrote me in a text message.

She must be watching the live broadcast, I thought as the cold spring air scraped painful trenches down my cheeks. My eyes burning with tears not allowed to be.

I entered the police headquarters and took the elevator up to my office. The doors opened and standing right there in the hall of the eighth floor were about a dozen colleagues, their open-wide eyes and parted lips

Reviews for Black in Blue

[1randal-1 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Carmen Best was the police chief of Seattle. She oversaw the disastrous years of 2019-2020, what with the defund the police marches, the BLM marches, several riots, and the infamous CHOP zone.Best served the Seattle PD for thirty years, making her way up the ranks.The book is an autobiography of life lessons that Best has learned. Beginning with her childhood, up to today.I found her to be an extremely well spoken person, with great insights into her life given openly.It's a shame that the ineffective political leadership of Seattle treated Chief Best as poorly as they did. For that matter, as poorly as they treated, and continue to treat, all of Seattle. Their attempts to make Chief Best the scapegoat for all the problems they created in Seattle is dishonorable. Thank goodness (as far as I know), Chief Best left on her own terms, with her head held high. And she did not (regrettably) name names and point fingers on the way out.This was just a sample of her entire book. The rest will be released on October 26, 2021. The sample left out the meat of 2019-2020. I am really hoping that she delves into it fully, and lets the public know of what really happened. I am eagerly awaiting the release!UPDATE: I have been given the entire book to read now. True to form, Best comes through. She goes into detail about the events of 2020, and of the CHOP zone. Unfortunately, she doesn't come right out and name the offending city council members, but as one who lived through the events, I can read behind the lines. Hopefully, those council members will be held accountable, and Seattle will begin to recover. I hope that it realizes the disservice it did to Chief Best, who really deserved much better. And I hope that Chief Best continues her service, if not to Seattle, then to the entire United States as a spokesperson of good and effective policing!

[brangwinn · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

As a Washington State resident, I was hoping for more “dirt” about the politics of being Seattle’s Chief of Police during the Black Lives Matters period of unrest. No “dirt” but an excellent guide for all people who aspire to be leaders. You believe in the change you set out to create. You learn much from your early experiences, and how a black woman managed to head a large police force dominated by white men. And how creating a team approach is important in overcoming the politics of a high-level position. Ms. Best took the high road in her book while explaining her resignation as chief of police came because she felt she no longer had the support of the city government.