Cracking Tallahassee's code of youth violence calls for consequences, community investment

A spree of armed robberies. Operating a sophisticated burglary ring. An accidental homicide with a stolen gun. Attempted murder. Murder.

They are not the kind of serious crimes typically associated with kids. But that’s the sobering reality in Tallahassee, where the broad daylight shooting of 17-year-old Cobi Mathis last month underscored an escalating problem of violence among people under 20.

“We’re seeing young people who are going to self-help and violence much faster,” said State Attorney Jack Campbell. “It’s a very unforgiving set of circumstances.”

Campbell has worked to implement diversion programs and other alternatives, allowing prosecutors in the juvenile division a level of discretion. The problem is those efforts don’t always work.

Mathis was on probation when he was killed, and his friends Xaiver Coachman, 19, and Jordan Smith, 18, now both charged in connection with his murder, also had prior criminal records. They told police the three of them were planning to rob a drug dealer when Mathis was shot — and it wasn't their first robbery.

Campbell said the situation involving drugs and guns is indicative of many juvenile cases his office handles.

“They don’t realize how horrific the consequences of that decision is going to be,” Campbell said during an interview in his office shortly after Mathis' murder.

“They don’t have the experience to know what it’s like to be locked in a cage for 20 years, 30 years. They don’t know the finality of death. They haven’t been to the funeral. I think that’s part of the naivete of youth all together. It’s just dangerous.”

There’s no easy answer, but doing nothing is not an option, Campbell said. He’s adopted a hard-line approach, increasingly choosing to prosecute teens as adults when diversion programs and other alternatives fail.

“We’ve got to step up and have immediate consequences, and that’s the instruction I’m giving my juvenile people,” Campbell said. “I have people who are failing the more therapeutic steps. The only way I’m going to stop it, unfortunately, is moving you to the adult system. Even that is better than ending up like this young man – dead on a slab.”

The big 'what if?'

While Campbell grapples in the courthouse deciding what consequences young offenders should face, Kimbal Thomas cruises the streets of Tallahassee’s south side.

On a rainy afternoon this month after Mathis was killed, Thomas, head of the city’s TEMPO youth outreach program, jumped out of his car and stopped three kids walking down Holton Street.

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They looked to be middle-school age. There was an hour left in the school day, but they weren’t in class. Thomas mentioned his program, which targets teens ages 16 to 24 who aren’t in school and are unemployed.

The kids kept walking, uninterested.

Mathis withdrew from Godby High in January to be home schooled, according to district records. He was shot at 12:50 p.m. on a Monday — an hour before high schools let out for the day.

More:'Too much tragedy': Teachers, friends at Godby mourn Cobi Mathis day after shooting

“It saddens you because you’re like wow, what if they had been in a classroom learning biology?” he said. “What if they had been learning English composition. What if?”

Most of the young people Thomas works with have at least a misdemeanor criminal record and no high school diploma. A former principal of Rickards High School, FAMU DRS and East Gadsden High, Thomas sees time spent out of the classroom and idle hands as a recipe for kids to fall in with the wrong crowd.

“As bad as it might be they’re being creative in order to survive. Unfortunately, that is taking other people’s property, that is drug sales,” he said. “There’s some brutal facts about what’s going on with disconnected youth in some municipalities and teenagers shooting each other that as a community we have to face. Some of that isn’t pretty.”

The program was born out of Thomas scouring areas where young people congregate and offering them a chance. With little to no baseline data, TEMPO has enrolled 440 participants in its first two years. None have re-offended.

“I’m their new street principal,” said Thomas.

Back story:Tallahassee program fights crime by offering one opportunity at a time

The initial focus of TEMPO was public safety — concentrating on a handful of places where most of the city’s crime originated. It’s grown into an investment in a person, not just a data point or a dollar sign.

In the past, the school system, parents, law enforcement and local governments have worked in piecemeal to address juvenile crime, Thomas  said. That is changing, but more work and introspection is needed.

“All of us collectively are going to have to look at what piece am I doing?” he said. “We’ve been in silos. They’re on our streets in our city limits and they’re committing crime; so what investment can we make in their lives to stop this tide?”

Contact Karl Etters at ketters@tallahassee.com or @KarlEtters on Twitter