The political fallout from Chicago Police Supt. Jody's Weis' secret meeting with gang leaders two weeks ago has been shaped by a certain perception and a certain misperception.
The perception, widespread among rank-and-file cops, is that Weis, a former FBI agent who never walked a beat, is not "the real police" and therefore was incapable of sizing up the risks and rewards of a sit-down with known gang leaders.
We suspect that if Weis' predecessor, grizzled CPD veteran Phil Cline, had dared the same dramatic move, the average beat cop would have rallied to his defense, confident that Cline knew the score.
The misperception, widespread among Chicagoans and many politicians, is that Chicago's gangs are little more than loose collections of impulsive punks, inclined to shoot each other on a Saturday-night whim, when in fact they are remarkably sophisticated criminal enterprises, not unlike the mafia. They are the street-level retailers of Chicago's massive illegal drug trade, the Wal-Marts of marijuana and crack. They pull in hundreds of millions of dollars and they protect their leaders behind layers of underlings.
"They belong in jail," said Ald. Bob Fioretti (2nd), and no one would disagree. But that's not so easily done. It took the feds years to get Al Capone, and even then the Chicago Outfit barrelled on.
When Weis met with the leaders of West Side gangs on Aug. 17, he was being pragmatic, recognizing the gangs' organized structure and looking for a little trickle-down influence to calm Chicago's street violence.
Weis did not negotiate. He cut no deals. He was there only to inform. If the killing didn't stop, he warned, federal prosecutors could and would bring conspiracy cases against them that would take their houses, cars, money and freedom.
The obvious question is why Weis and the feds bothered with a warning. If they can attack the gangs' leaders with a RICO statute conspiracy case, why not just do it?
And the answer is that a RICO case takes years to build. It won't end the killings tomorrow.
A RICO case would not have saved the life of Tanaja Stokes, the 9-year-old girl killed in Roseland two weeks ago by a stray bullet meant for a gang-banger.
"Tanaja didn't get a chance to run," her cousin cried.
We don't know if Weis' bold move will make one bit of difference.
But it's hard to oppose anything that might give our children a chance -- if only to run.
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