Mindy Grizzard’s weekday mornings are similar to many other Richmond women—she wakes up in her apartment and commutes to the city for another day of work. At the office she pours herself a cup of coffee and opens the paper. Instead of browsing the Flair section perhaps for familiar new engagements, or the Sports section to see how local teams are faring, she goes straight to the Metro section. Mindy begins each day scouring for the latest murders, looking to see which of her clients have been killed, and consequently which cases can be closed.

Her business card says Mindy S. Grizzard, Senior Probation and Parole Officer, Certified Gang Specialist. To her two high school daughters, she’s “Mom.” On the streets of Richmond, she’s known as “Dat Bitch,” a moniker that doesn’t bother her. After four years as the leading lady in gang prevention in Richmond, she expects it. She’s a fast-talking brunette with Greek heritage, and despite her genial personality, I can tell immediately she’s not a woman to mess with. Halfway through the interview, Mindy reluctantly answers the phone that has been ringing repeatedly for several minutes. “Why are you calling me from the lobby?” she demands, her demeanor changing from interview charm to unyielding force. “Don’t call me again. It’s not my fault if you end up back in jail.” She hangs up. “They call me all hours of the night,” she says. “They don’t realize my job isn’t to bail them out of jail.” Her devotion is to awareness and prevention, not salvation.

Mindy remembers when no one in Richmond was allowed to use the word “gang,” refusing to acknowledge the groups’ notorious existence in the city. This was back when she first started working with the police force as a recent VCU graduate with a degree in criminal justice. She began doing pre-trial work and bond recommendations, where she remembers seeing female officers and thinking, “They get to dress up every day and arrest people?!” She wanted to have her own intimidating badge to flash on top of her three-inch heels. She decided to embark on a career path with law enforcement, picturing herself as a tough, sassy type like Jodie Foster in Silence of the Lambs.

Working her way up, Mindy became involved with the Henrico parole office, and hesitated before taking an opportunity to work in Richmond. Within a few short months she realized that the city is where the action is, especially in her line of work, and never looked back. As she began to realize how much of an unspoken gang problem there was in Richmond, she was moved to take action. She approached her supervisor and told him she wanted to support gang prevention, a request to which he responded by questioning her sanity. She spent the next year developing Richmond’s first gang initiative, in the midst of a city of unbelievers. By 2005 she had received backing from the attorney general’s office and a challenge from her chief, Michael Wright, telling her she could swap out one of her current cases for each gang member she discovered. Within a few months Mindy had replaced each of her normal cases with gang members, and in a year’s time had over 180 clients. She was promoted to senior parole officer and assigned her own unit, adding two more passionate officers to her fight: Krista Varady (“The Xanax of the team,” says Mindy, “I send her the really young, feisty guys because she can calm anyone”) and Ed Chippewa (“Even the hard ones will listen to a 6’7” man of Native American descent”). The three of them have formed a relentless force against Richmond gangs.

Mindy Grizzard’s mission is not to transform gangsters into model citizens; after several misled hopefuls, all of which have ended up repeat offenders, she now knows better than to hope to change lives. Her unit is devoted to increasing public safety. They conquer everything from national gangs that have gained prominence in the area, such as the Bloods or the Crips, and also smaller local gangs, Satanic groups, white supremacists, and any other groups that fit into the seven gang credentials Mindy developed. Her office is decorated with a variety of confiscated gang paraphernalia—bandannas, beads, drawings, and oversized T-shirts. Not only are gang members not allowed to show any signs of their gang affiliation once they become her clients, it is especially not allowed in the parole office. Mindy recalls a day that, unknowingly, two members of rival gangs were seated beside each other in the front lobby—until their tattoos revealed their identities. Mindy ended up holding the hand of one of the men as he lay bleeding on the sidewalk, near death after being shot by the other man. She uses this day as an example of the constant drive she has to battle gang violence in Richmond—to decrease mindless casualties that occur too often.

Mindy’s most recent accomplishment was the completion of a compelling documentary exposing gang violence in Richmond and promoting awareness and prevention in the area. The movie, The Wrong Family, illuminates the destructive nature of gang activity, why children are lured into joining gangs, and signs that may indicate if your child is involved with a gang. Working on the documentary for over a year, she realized at the film’s premiere that her dream had materialized better than she imagined. She now uses it as her main teaching tool, and is unphased that some think it may be too explicit for younger students. “The gangsters in the movie are real, not actors,” she explains, which affects kids of all ages who realize it could easily be them, paralyzed from the neck down after a gang fight, or parents who recognize the innocence of each young person in the film and how easily their own children could become trapped in the same lifestyle. Mindy recalls with humor the first time her mom viewed the documentary, turning to her and saying, “Wow, the guys in the movie are so scary!” and then gasping when Mindy divulged that all of them were her clients.

Regardless of how scary her clients may be, or the danger she puts herself in on a daily basis (she describes walking around the projects in her bullet-proof vest as an exciting day at work), she has never felt that being a female in her line of work is a hindrance. She recognizes that while gang men feel intimidated when dealing with male officers, feeling threatened and competitive, she gives them an unexpected respect. “I speak to them on their level. They know they can kick my ass, but also that I hold the key to their freedom. It’s a mutual respect.” She is, however, very direct if any of her clients dare to make an attempt to come on to her. “Do not call me ‘babe,’” she reminds them, immediately repositioning herself not as a sex object but as a woman of power.

Her advice for Richmond women is, don’t be ignorant. She implores all women to constantly be aware of their surroundings, and educate themselves of gang signs and symbols, quoting the Virginia Gang Investigators Association web site as a reliable resource (www.vgia.org). The site not only shows symbols, clothing and tattoos associated with gangs, but also tips to prevent women from becoming targets. She insists that “gang members are everywhere, in every neighborhood” and expresses her frustration that so many parents are in disbelief. “So many parents tell me ‘not my kids,’ and then are shocked after learning the signs and symbols, saying ‘I saw that drawn all over my kid’s homework!’ or ‘My son wears that same necklace every day.’” Ignorance is not bliss, and Mindy states firmly that gang prevention starts in the home.

Despite her success with combating gang violence the past four years and her rise to notoriety on the streets of Richmond, Mindy Grizzard does have plans to retire eventually, but only after finding an equally passionate young woman to replace her. Although it’s a tough job that many would shy away from, she’s confident that there is a strong woman out there who will continue her reign, even if it means passing on her not-so-flattering nickname. She looks forward to eventually exchanging her days spent in Shockoe Bottom to a tranquil retirement on her fiancé’s farm. My eyes light up when I ask her to divulge her wedding plans, and I am only a little shocked when she reveals, “We’re eloping next Tuesday.” I laugh, and realize I wouldn’t expect any less from Richmond’s lively, no-nonsense leader in gang prevention. V