NO MIRRORS, NO NET;
JUST NERVES OF STEEL
AND faith IN HIMSELF

Article and photos by KARA E. SMITH

It's 6 a.m. and the streets are still dark in the 50th parole precinct in the Bronx. Parole officer Clarence Berry slouches comfortably behind the wheel of his car, headed out to visit a few of the 70 to 80 parolees under his supervision.

"I like to go out early to catch my people before they go to work, or to catch them if they aren't obeying their curfew," says Berry as he travels through the dark streets of the city. In the early morning gloom, the elevated train tracks look like hulking, prehistoric insects hovering over the dilapidated storefronts and graffiti-covered walls of the Bronx neighborhood. "My people are under curfew from 10 p.m. to 7 a.m.," he adds.

Berry is a tall, imposing-looking man. His graying, close-cropped hair is hidden beneath a black, leather cowboy hat. And a bullet-proof vest, layered beneath a button-down shirt and a heavy overcoat, gives him a false impression of stockiness.

The men and women under Berry's supervision have committed crimes ranging from attempted murder and robbery to a variety of drug charges. He explains that all of the convicted felons under his jurisdiction are still serving their prison sentences.

"Inmates are generally released from prison after serving the minimum amount of their sentence behind bars," says Berry. "The rest they serve on the outside, under parole supervision."

Berry pulls up to the Marble Hill Projects, a collection of towering brick apartment buildings where two brothers he supervises live. "Both brothers were arrested for armed robbery," says Berry as he climbs out of the car.

Wary, but not nervous
Walking across the deserted project lawn toward the building door, Berry says he never gets nervous visiting areas like this alone. Although he has a partner, he usually makes his morning rounds by himself. While working without the safety net of a partner is more dangerous, it's also more convenient because many of his parolees live in different neighborhoods then his partner's parolees.

"I don't really get nervous being out here alone. People know who I am," says Berry. "And these projects are only really dangerous in the summertime when people hang around outside in groups.

"In the summer, I usually take my gun out of its holster and hold it in my jacket pocket like this as I walk across the lawn," Berry explains, putting his hand in his pocket and imitating the outline of a gun like a 1940's movie gangster.

"I'd rather shoot a hole in my pocket than fumble around trying to get my gun out of its holster if something happens," he adds. Berry rings the brothers' apartment bell. Seconds later, one of the parolees - a young, clean-cut African American man, dressed for work in a Federal Express uniform - meets him at the door.
"Hello Mr. Berry," he says.
"On your way to work?" asks Berry glancing at the man's uniform.
"Yeah, I've gotta hit the road," the man says.

After questioning the felon for a few minutes about his recent activities, Berry asks if his mother and brother are upstairs. The man says they are and heads off for work. And Berry heads into the building.

"I've never met his mother in all the time I've supervised him and his brother," Berry says. "I've got to find out if she really lives here because it would be illegal for the two of them, as convicted criminals, to live here in the projects without her." After a brief visit inside and a short discussion with the mother and the other parolee, the parole officer leaves the apartment.

Know what you're walking into
KNOCK, KNOCK ­ Parole Officer Clarance Berry makes early A.M. call on parolee

As he approaches the elevator, Berry steals a furtive glance at a small convex mirror in the upper left hand corner of the car before stepping inside.
"Always look up and into that mirror before you step into an elevator," he says. "It reflects the entire interior of the car; it lets you know what you're walking into."

This wariness is characteristic of the parole-officer mind set. Like a cat, Berry seems always on guard - a preparedness that all parole officers must have if they hope to make it through their day in one piece.

Walking into the homes of parolees is especially dangerous because, unlike the views afforded by elevator mirrors, there's no clue what's inside. You just never know what you're walking into, says Berry.

"Since I work with these guys every day, I generally know how they'll react in certain situations," he says. "But even so, when you're walking into people's apartments, even when you think you know them, surprises can always happen."
Several years ago, Berry walked into a parolee's home to arrest him and found the man with a loaded .38 caliber pistol under his pillow, a shotgun beside his bed and a large cache of drugs.

Fortunately, since it was an arrest situation, Berry was with a partner.
"We saw him reaching under the pillow for his gun and my partner jumped him before he could shoot," Berry remembers. "Another time, during a routine pickup in the projects, I took a blow to the head when a parolee threw a phone at me while trying to escape."

WRAP IT UP - Parole officer Clarence Berry
catches up on correspondence and reports at his office in the Bronx.

Off parole, but still on his mind
After leaving the projects, Berry heads across town to pay a call on a former parolee. He explains that the man was convicted of armed robbery, and once tried to lie to him when he was caught stealing while on parole.

"He stole a purse, took $500 from it and then dumped it," says Berry. "But when I asked him about it, he claimed he had found the purse and was searching through it for identification so that he could return it to the owner.

"He's illiterate and he knows that I know he can't read. Yet he still thought he could get away with that lie," says Berry with a laugh.
"I like to keep in contact with this guy just to let him know that I'm still around watching if he should happen to do something," says Berry as he pulls up in front of a nondescript apartment building several blocks over.

"That's the hardest part about this job - sometimes, you just have to use your best judgment about these guys and some of the things they tell you. You never know if they're lying or telling the truth," he says as he climbs out of the car and walks to the former parolee's door. "All you can do is just use your best judgment and hope you're making the right decision."

With that, Berry rings the apartment bell and walks inside, glancing warily at the mirror overhead as he enters the building's elevator.
He's off to do his job. And as usual, it takes him where there's no mirror and no net.

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