Q&A: Minneapolis Chief of Police Medaria Arradondo

Medaria Arradondo, the Minneapolis chief of police, talks about what cops get wrong, what Trump thinks about the city, and why he sits in on the interview for every single new hire.

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Minneapolis Police Chief Medaria Arradondo was born and raised in the city he now serves. In fact, save for a brief stint walking the airport beat in the late 1980s, the chief has spent his whole adult life working for the hometown squad. So it’s slightly surprising when the chief’s people suggest we meet for lunch at Frankie’s Chicago Style…in New Hope. 

“Honestly, part of the reason is, everywhere we go out in public with him in the city of Minneapolis, it’s tough to get work done,” says police spokesman John Elder. “People want to come up and talk with him.” 

It’s a Tuesday in early February when we gather at Frankie’s—a restaurant the chief has apparently never seen. And even though it’s so-damn-cold-it’s-sunny-again and Frankie’s slings slices in a strip mall, the place is packed. Good thing we’re not in Minneapolis, I think. 

As we get into the interview, I begin to see what draws people to Arradondo. He’s oddly magnetic, partly because of a youthfulness that flies at odds with his life’s work. He’s in his mid-50s and has been a cop—a profession he himself admits ages folks in dog years—since 1989. The guy who buddies call “Rondo” worked his way up through the MPD ranks with stints on the beat in the Fourth Precinct, as the commander of Internal Affairs, and as assistant chief during the police shooting of Jamar Clark. Even the way he became chief feels heavy: The then mayor, Betsy Hodges, handed him the reins in the wake of Chief Janeé Harteau’s resignation, following the 2017 police shooting of Justine Damond.

We’ll soon talk about growing up in the neighborhood that became “Murderapolis” and how to fix policing from the inside during the era of “I Can’t Breathe.” But first, we order. 

The chief goes with a chef’s salad (dressing choice: Gorgonzola vinaigrette); Elder, our press minder, orders a side salad. I’m breaking the healthy vibe by ordering a brisket Reuben when a passerby breaks into our convo to shake the chief’s hand. 

The chief finishes that interaction and validates my order with a laugh and a gesture that says, I wish, but I know better. No sooner has he put his arms back on the table than another customer comes up to schmooze. And then another. Arradondo appears happy to oblige each. 

It goes like that through most of the interview. Thank god we didn’t do it in Minneapolis.

You were born and raised in the city of your badge. Is that unusual for a big-city police chief? 

You know, I think that it’s a mixture. You will see some major-city chiefs who, after a period of time, will be recruited to other cities. But being from here has absolutely helped me in terms of grounding the vision that I have for this police department.

Having the hometown gig probably comes with its own pressures, too.

Your staunchest critics tend to be the ones that know you the best. So, yes, there is a little bit of added pressure. I do have to guard myself from clinging a little too much to nostalgia. Whenever I find myself starting to make that sentence, “Do you remember back when?” I try to remember that the city is evolving. It isn’t monolithic.

Where did you grow up?

I was a northside baby. I lived on Aldrich, adjacent to what was then the public housing projects. And shortly after that we moved to south Minneapolis—the Central neighborhood, at 37th and Park.

How about school? 

I went to Page Elementary School. And Anthony Junior High School—which is Anthony Middle School now. Then I started my freshman year in high school at Minneapolis Central. But then the district closed three high schools, and I made the choice to go to Roosevelt. 

What was Minneapolis like when you were a kid?

Communities were less mobile and more tight-knit. You knew your neighbors and they knew you. It was not uncommon for your neighbors to be like your extended parents—elders who’d scruff you up by your neck. 

And you left briefly after high school, right? 

I was sitting in my senior history class, and I was talking to a buddy, and there was a guy seated between us, asleep. So my buddy asks what I’m going to do. And I was telling him I didn’t really know what to pursue yet. 

And the other guy rose from his slumber and said, “You know, I’ve got an uncle who teaches at this school up in Michigan; I can bring you some information.” 

His uncle was the dean of the criminal justice program at Suomi College and was the chief of police. So, I called his uncle, and by the fall of 1985, this Minneapolis kid was in the Upper Peninsula.

You knew early that this was what you wanted to do?

Yes. I had nine siblings. And service to my family members and neighbors was always something my parents instilled in us.

What brought you back?

It just so happened that the Airport Police Department started its first community officer program. Then, in 1989, the Minneapolis Police Department was starting its first cadet program dedicated to the inclusivity of folks who didn’t go the traditional route of studying for criminal justice or law enforcement. I took advantage of it. 

What were your impressions of cops growing up? 

They were a fixture in the backdrop of our lives. The only times they really came close was if there was something bad that occurred in the neighborhood. And I did not see a whole lot of officers who looked like me.

A lot has changed since then. 

And when it changes—via a migration of people, but also a migration of thought—so does the outlook for the city. 

I mean, cities are always changing—always having ups and downs. 

I still remember, growing up, the crack epidemic. That changed people; it changed neighborhoods. There were pockets of uncertainty. When the Murderapolis years were here, I was a young officer, and to experience a city where we would reach almost 100 homicides in a single year—that was very different. 

The neighborhood you grew up in was the epicenter of the violence. 

Absolutely. That whole area was. The Rolling 30s, the Vice Lords, and other gangs were rearing their heads. It impacted people’s views of the city. And it caused, quite frankly, a migration of folks. But fast-forward to today, and more people are coming into the city and to places that were desolate. 

Policing is under greater scrutiny, maybe, than ever before.

I remember as a young officer, rolling out of the Fourth Precinct parking lot one afternoon, and the Rodney King incident had just occurred. And a couple of gentlemen yelled something in reference to that. And it was interesting because they were associating myself in this profession with something that had happened across the country. Fast-forward to today, and I don’t care if a situation happens in a police department in Texas or Toronto: If it’s scrutinized and something of a critical nature, communities today feel very connected to that, and they will view your police department sometimes in the lens of that. 

What do communities get wrong about their police? 

I think that, unfortunately, there is a narrative that the work we do does not oftentimes have their best interest at heart. A thing I grapple with as chief is trying to humanize this profession. The men and women who come to do this work have different political views, families, and the same stressors in life that we all have. We only exist because of the authority our communities give us. But the profession, over many decades, has not leaned in more to our communities to make sure we are not just at the table but a viable participant. 

The most impactful assignment I had was walking the beat in north Minneapolis as a young officer. Being out of that squad car and getting to know the families and the kids by name. And the store owners. And even a few of those individuals who were causing havoc in the neighborhood. To communicate and listen and make sure that they were being heard. I would love for us to be able to have more of our officers out there engaging in neighborhoods. 

That work wasn’t to arrest or to overpolice. It was just to build relationships. 

What do police get wrong about their communities? 

One, that they’re not supported. And, two, that those who may often have the biggest megaphone are speaking for the whole. It’s important for me to remind them that the overwhelming majority of the community appreciates and understands the importance of good public safety. And, by the way, they can still be critical, but also accept and understand that [policing] is still needed, even though there are things that we could fix. 

The MPD has been a permanent fixture through your adulthood. But now that’s juxtaposed with the inherent impermanence of being chief, right?

The average big-city chief’s shelf life is three and a half years. So I’m on borrowed time. I report to a mayor, who is an elected official. If something occurs where the mayor feels that I am no longer fit to be in my position, he can certainly relinquish my appointment. But I can’t be guided by that. 

What can you be guided by?

Every day I go into that office knowing that most of the transformational work that I am trying to do for this department—for the city that I grew up in—will not come to fruition while I’m chief. But I have to be determined to lead the charge in planting those seeds of culture change and make sure they’re cultivated. 

You’re the steward of something.

I’m the 53rd chief of the Minneapolis Police Department. There were 52 before me. There’s not one seven-foot bronze statue honoring any of those chiefs, and there won’t be one for me. You just accept that and go in there every day and work your hardest. 

I make mistakes, there’s no doubt about it. But I’m trying to get it right. And I take counsel with all different sources, including meeting regularly with groups who have been very critical of policing. I also have to recognize that through all of those things from my upbringing that make me feel connected here, that this is not that same city it was. It has evolved. People have a bigger vision for what this city is going to be. And eventually there has to be another lens to look at that and move it to the next level. 

I read that you’re losing 35–40 officers each year to retirement. It seems like that opens the door to reshaping the force in a substantive way.

That’s a great point. There are some who have their views about policing and the Minneapolis Police Department. And there are some who find it challenging when I’m asking for additional personnel and resources. But what I’m trying to communicate is that, one, I strongly believe, and the data supports it, that we need more. But the other thing is, if we’re truly about transforming the culture, what better opportunity is there but to bring on new people to help instill that new vision?

How? 

We are products of our society. The men and women who will be joining the Minneapolis Police Department will be of the generation that watched what occurred in Ferguson, what occurred in New York with Eric Garner, what occurred in Minneapolis with Jamar Clark, and what occurred in Falcon Heights with Philando Castile. The people who join this department will be people who want to change, for the better, those narratives. 

Easier said than done?

When I came in, the RFP for our pre-employment psychologist was up. It had always been managed through our human resources department. And I said, no, that’s too important to me. I need to be heavily involved in that. The number one trait I look for is character. That doesn’t mean perfection but an individual who, even if they make a mistake, was trying to do the right thing for the right reasons. So I sit in on the interview for every single candidate, whether they’re for community service officer, recruit, or cadet. I’ve got one shot to get it right, so I need to be involved in this. When one of our officers violates the public trust, I am responsible for that. 

Thanks to the White House resident’s obsession with a Minneapolis congresswoman, the city has been a frequent target of his vitriol. Does that bother you? 

It does. It totally misses what this city has to offer. And it’s important to get that messaging out to folks around the department that there is far more good in this city than bad. Far more good. And, by the way, we get to see that every day. 

Since we’ve already determined that this is the beginning of the end for you at the MPD, have you ever considered what’s next?

I’m going to try to see if I can work part time at the Electric Fetus. I used to moonlight there Friday nights. I’ll see if the staff will have me back.

You worked at a record store? No way.

Truly. I worked Friday nights, in uniform, at the Fetus for several years. I know the staff over there really well—love that place. In fact, folks used to come in and I was the cop at the door. They would ask me, like, where stuff was, and I’d show them. 

This interview has been edited for length and clarity.

Mpls.St.Paul Daily Edit

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