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The Good News About Crime

The Good News About Crime

The Atlantic16-05-2025

This is an edition of The Atlantic Daily, a newsletter that guides you through the biggest stories of the day, helps you discover new ideas, and recommends the best in culture. Sign up for it here.
You don't hear a lot of good news these days, and you hear even less good news about crime. In fact, this is a consistent structural problem with crime reporting. When crime is rising, it gets a great deal of attention—following the old newsroom adage that ' if it bleeds, it leads.'
Most news consumers are probably aware that starting in 2020, the United States witnessed one of the most remarkable increases in crime in its history. Murder rose by the highest annual rate recorded (going back to the start of reliable records, in 1960) from 2019 to 2020. Some criminal-justice-reform advocates, concerned that the increase would doom nascent progress, tried to play it down. They were right to point out that violent crime was still well below the worst peaks of the 1980s and '90s, but wrong to dismiss the increase entirely. Such a steep, consistent, and national rise is scary, and each data point represents a horror for real people.
What happened after that is less heralded: Crime is down since then. Although final statistics are not yet available, some experts think that 2024 likely set the record for the steepest fall in the murder rate. And 2025 is off to an even better start. The year is not yet half over, and a lot can still change—just consider 2020, when murder really took off in the second half—but the Real-Time Crime Index, which draws on a national sample, finds that through March, murder is down 21.6 percent, violent crime is down 11 percent, and property crime is down 13.8 percent. In April, Chicago had 20 murders. That's not just lower than in any April of the past few years—that's the best April since 1962, early in Richard J. Daley's mayorship.
One of the great challenges of reporting on crime is the lack and lateness of good statistics. The best numbers come from the FBI, but they aren't released until the fall of the following year. Still, we can get a pretty good idea of the trends from the data that are available. The Council on Criminal Justice analyzed 2024 data from 40 cities on 13 categories of crime, and found that all but one (shoplifting) dropped from 2023. Homicide was down 16 percent among cities in the sample that reported data, and in cities with especially high numbers of murders, such as St. Louis, Baltimore, and Detroit, they fell to 2014 levels. Even carjacking, which suddenly had become more common in recent years, was down to below 2020 levels—though motor-vehicle theft was higher.
A separate report from the Major Cities Chiefs Association, which gathers leaders of police departments in the biggest cities, found similar trends: a 16 percent drop in homicide from 2023, and smaller reductions in rape, robbery, and aggravated assault.
Another great challenge of reporting on crime is how vague our understanding is of what drives changes in crime. Even now, scholars disagree about what led to the long decline in crime from the 1990s until the 2010s. One popular theory for the 2020 rise has been that it was connected to the murder of George Floyd and the resulting protests, though that allows for several possible pathways: Were police too occupied with protests to deal with ordinary crime? Were they de-policing as a sort of protest (the ' blue flu ')—or were they pulling back because that was the message the protests were sending them and their leaders? Did the attention to brutal law enforcement delegitimize police in the eyes of citizens, encouraging a rise in criminal behavior? Any or all of these are possible, in various proportions.
A Brookings Institution report published in December contends that the pandemic itself was the prime culprit. The authors argue that murder was already rising when Floyd was killed. 'The spike in murders during 2020 was directly connected to local unemployment and school closures in low-income areas,' they write. 'Cities with larger numbers of young men forced out of work and teen boys pushed out of school in low-income neighborhoods during March and early April, had greater increases in homicide from May to December that year, on average.' Because many of these unemployment and school-closure-related trends continued for years, they believe this explains why high murder rates persisted in 2021 and 2022 before falling. The journalist Alec MacGillis has also done powerful reporting that makes a similar argument.
Recognizing the real trends in crime rates is important in part because disorder, real or perceived, creates openings for demagoguery. Throughout his time in politics, President Donald Trump has exaggerated or outright misrepresented the state of crime in the United States, and has used it to push for both stricter and more brutal policing. He has also argued that deportations will reduce crime—with his administration going so far as to delete a Justice Department webpage with a report noting that undocumented immigrants commit crime at lower rates than native citizens in Texas.
The irony is that Trump's policy choices could slow or even reverse the positive trends currently occurring. Reuters reports that the Justice Department has eliminated more than $800 million in grants through the Office of Justice Programs. Giffords, a gun-control group founded by former U.S. Representative Gabby Giffords, warns that this includes important aid to local police departments for preventing gun violence and other forms of crime: 'Trump is destabilizing the very foundations of violence prevention programs across the country.' The administration's economic policies also threaten to drive the U.S. into recession, which tends to cause increases in crime, as it may have done in 2020.
Upticks in crime driven by misguided policy choices would be tragic, especially coming just as the shock of 2020 is fading. Good news isn't just hard to find—it can also be fleeting.
Here are three new stories from The Atlantic:
Today's News
Some Republicans in the House Budget Committee, demanding deeper spending cuts, voted against President Donald Trump's tax bill.
The Supreme Court temporarily blocked the Trump administration from using a wartime law to deport a group of Venezuelan immigrants.
Israel's air strikes killed roughly 100 people in north Gaza, according to local health officials.
Evening Read
'We're Definitely Going to Build a Bunker Before We Release AGI'
By Karen Hao
In the summer of 2023, Ilya Sutskever, a co-founder and the chief scientist of OpenAI, was meeting with a group of new researchers at the company. By all traditional metrics, Sutskever should have felt invincible: He was the brain behind the large language models that helped build ChatGPT, then the fastest-growing app in history; his company's valuation had skyrocketed; and OpenAI was the unrivaled leader of the industry believed to power the future of Silicon Valley. But the chief scientist seemed to be at war with himself.
More From The Atlantic
Take charge. You may be fine with becoming more like your parents or hate the idea. Either way, it's something you can control, the happiness expert Arthur C. Brooks writes.
Read. Amanda Hess's new book examines a surplus of experts and gadgets promising to perfect the experience of raising children, Hillary Kelly writes.

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Sometimes a Parade Is Just a Parade
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The Atlantic Daily, a newsletter that guides you through the biggest stories of the day, helps you discover new ideas, and recommends the best in culture. Sign up for it here. President Donald Trump has gotten his way and will oversee a military parade in Washington, D.C., this summer on the Army's birthday, which also happens to be his own. Plans call for nearly 7,000 troops to march through the streets as 50 helicopters buzz overhead and tanks chew up the pavement. One option has the president presiding from a viewing stand on Constitution Avenue as the Army's parachute team lands to present him with an American flag. The prospect of all this martial pomp, scheduled for June 14, has elicited criticism from many quarters. Some of it is fair—this president does not shy away from celebrating himself or flexing executive power, and the parade could be seen as an example of both—but some of it is misguided. Trump has a genius for showmanship, and showcasing the American military can be, and should be, a patriotic celebration. The president wanted just such a tribute during his first term, after seeing France's impressive Bastille Day celebrations. Then–Secretary of Defense James Mattis reportedly refused, effectively threatening to resign by telling the president to ask his next secretary of defense. Three secretaries of defense later, Trump has gotten enthusiastic agreement from current Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth. Criticism of the display begins with its price tag, estimated as high as $45 million. The projected outlay comes at a time of draconian budget cuts elsewhere: 'Cutting cancer research while wasting money on this? Shameful,' Republicans Against Trump posted on X. 'Peanuts compared to the value of doing it,' Trump replied when asked about the expense. 'We have the greatest missiles in the world. We have the greatest submarines in the world. We have the greatest army tanks in the world. We have the greatest weapons in the world. And we're going to celebrate it.' [Read: The case for a big, beautiful military parade] Other prominent critics of the Trump administration have expressed concern that the parade's real purpose is to use the military to intimidate the president's critics. The historian Heather Cox Richardson wrote on her Substack, 'Trump's aspirations to authoritarianism are showing today in the announcement that there will be a military parade on Trump's 79th birthday.' Ron Filipkowski, the editor in chief of the progressive media company MeidasTouch, posted, 'The Fuhrer wants a Nuremberg style parade on his birthday.' Experts on civil-military relations in the United States also expressed consternation. 'Having tanks rolling down streets of the capital doesn't look like something consistent with the tradition of a professional, highly capable military,' the scholar Risa Brooks told The New York Times. 'It looks instead like a military that is politicized and turning inwardly, focusing on domestic-oriented adversaries instead of external ones.' Even the military leadership has been chary. During Trump's first term, then–Joint Chiefs of Staff Vice Chairman Paul Selva reflected that military parades are 'what dictators do.' But these critics may well be projecting more general concerns about Trump onto a parade. Not everything the Trump administration does is destructive to democracy—and the French example suggests that dictatorships are not the only governments to hold military displays. The U.S. itself has been known to mount victory parades after successful military campaigns. In today's climate, a military parade could offer an opportunity to counter misperceptions about the armed forces. It could bring Americans closer to service members and juice military recruitment—all of which is sorely needed. The American military is shrinking, not due to a policy determination about the size of the force needed, but because the services cannot recruit enough Americans to defend the country. In 2022, 77 percent of American youth did not qualify for military service, for reasons that included physical or mental-health problems, misconduct, inaptitude, being overweight, abuse of drugs or alcohol, or being a dependent. Just 9 percent of Americans ages of 16 to 24 (a prime recruitment window) are even interested in signing up. In 2023, only the Marine Corps and Space Force met their recruiting goals; the Army and Navy recruited less than 70 percent of their goals and fell 41,000 recruits short of sustaining their current force. Recruiting picked up dramatically in 2024 but remains cause for concern. One possible reason for this is that most Americans have little exposure to men and women in uniform. Less than 0.5 percent of Americans are currently serving in the military—and many who do so live, shop, and worship on cordoned military bases. Misperceptions about military service are therefore rife. One is that the U.S. military primarily recruits from minority groups and the poor. In fact, 17 percent of the poorest quintile of Americans serve, as do 12 percent of the richest quintile. The rest of the military is from middle-income families. Those who live near military bases and come from military families are disproportionately represented. The Army's polling indicates that concerns about being injured, killed, or suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder are major impediments to recruitment. Women worry that they will be sexually harassed or assaulted (the known figures on this in the U.S. military are 6.2 percent of women and 0.7 percent of men). Additionally, a Wall Street Journal–NORC poll found that far fewer American adults considered patriotism important in 2023 (23 percent) than did in 1998 (70 percent)—another possible reason that enthusiasm for joining up has dampened. [Read: The all-volunteer force is in crisis] A celebratory parade could be helpful here, and it does not have to set the country on edge. Americans seem comfortable with thanking military men and women for their service, having them pre-board airplanes, applauding them at sporting events, and admiring military-aircraft flybys. None of those practices is suspected of corroding America's democracy or militarizing its society. Surely the nation can bear up under a military parade once every decade or two, especially if the parade serves to reconnect veterans of recent wars, who often—rightly—grumble that the country tends to disown its wars as matters of concern to only those who serve in them. The risk, of course, is that Trump will use the occasion not to celebrate the troops but to corrode their professionalism by proclaiming them his military and his generals. This is, after all, the president who claimed that Dan Caine, his nominee to become chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, wore a MAGA hat and attested his willingness to kill for Trump, all of which Caine denies. This is also a president known to mix politics with honoring the military, as he did in Michigan, at Arlington National Cemetery, at West Point's commencement, and in a Memorial Day post on Truth Social calling his opponents 'scum.' Even so, the commander in chief has a right to engage with the military that Americans elected him to lead. The responsibility of the military—and of the country—is to look past the president's hollow solipsism and embrace the men and women who defend the United States. Being from a military family or living near a military base has been shown to predispose people toward military service. This suggests that the more exposure people have to the military, the likelier they are to serve in it. A big celebration of the country's armed forces—with static displays on the National Mall afterward, and opportunities for soldiers to mix with civilians—could familiarize civilians with their armed forces and, in doing so, draw talented young Americans to serve. A version of this essay originally appeared on AEIdeas from the American Enterprise Institute. Article originally published at The Atlantic

Failed Muni Bond Draws FBI and Sparks `Ponzi-Like Fraud' Claims
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Failed Muni Bond Draws FBI and Sparks `Ponzi-Like Fraud' Claims

(Bloomberg) -- Before the lawsuits started piling up in courtrooms across Connecticut, before his employer accused him of running a 'massive Ponzi-like fraud,' and before the FBI showed up, Robert Cappelletti looked well on his way to pulling off one of the greatest muni-bond coups of all time. Next Stop: Rancho Cucamonga! Where Public Transit Systems Are Bouncing Back Around the World ICE Moves to DNA-Test Families Targeted for Deportation with New Contract US Housing Agency Vulnerable to Fraud After DOGE Cuts, Documents Warn Trump Said He Fired the National Portrait Gallery Director. She's Still There. The plan Cappelletti had put together was so audacious it bordered on the fantastical. The housing agency he ran in Groton, a sleepy town of some 40,000 people along Connecticut's Thames River, would sell $750 million of bonds to jumpstart a $4 billion project to transform a bunch of run-down shopping plazas into a sprawling, up-scale development. There'd be a new train station, a hospital, almost 2,000 apartments and dozens of shops and restaurants. It would have been the biggest local bond issue in the state's history and expanded the tiny Groton agency far beyond its role managing two apartment complexes. And yet Cappelletti — a part-time employee with a mixed record running other housing agencies in the state — breezed through a series of crucial steps needed to complete the sale. He got approval from the five-person board that runs the agency; crafted a brief financial projections statement; scored an investment-grade bond rating; and started the process of lining up buyers for the debt. It was only when the bond sale collapsed this winter and Cappelletti was removed from office that the complex financial web that he had spun across Connecticut for years came to light. Cappelletti engaged in double-dealing, created shell companies and failed to disclose loans he took out, leaving, in the process, a trail of financial wreckage across the state, lawyers for the Groton agency alleged in the most high-profile case against him. In February, they sued Cappelletti for fraud, claiming he borrowed at least $3 million without the commission's knowledge through subsidiaries he controlled. In subsequent court documents, the authority alleged Cappelletti also took 'millions of dollars' from non-commercial lenders and other 'questionable entities' that were then transferred to others, including businesses owned by his brother, David, that received about $1 million. The housing authority's attorneys are working with the FBI, which is investigating, according to people familiar with the matter who asked not to be identified discussing internal matters. 'Everybody is disgusted,' said Ric Silver, who lives in an apartment in Pequot Village, a 104-unit complex managed by the authority. Cappelletti declined to comment through his attorney, Joseph Martini, who also declined to comment. Cappelletti's brother, David, who was named as a co-defendant in the suit last month, also declined to comment. On June 2, in court papers filed in connection with the Groton case, Ivan Ladd-Smith, another lawyer for Cappelletti, said he intends to deny the allegations. A press official for the FBI declined to comment. Robert Frink, the chair of the Groton Housing Authority, said the board has opened an investigation but is 'unable to go into greater detail at this time.' That Cappelletti drew so little scrutiny as he pushed ahead with the deal is a testament to the vulnerabilities in the vast network of government agencies struggling to provide affordable housing to low-income families across America. To finance new projects and try to address the housing crisis, the local agencies routinely sell municipal bonds, a loosely regulated corner of the securities market where deals are often just rubber-stamped. Many of the agencies have been plagued by mismanagement, poor oversight and corruption. Since 2023, prosecutors have brought bribery and fraud charges against housing authority officials in Ohio, North Carolina, Georgia, Pennsylvania, Illinois, Montana and New York, where 70 former and current New York City Housing Authority officials were ensnared in a historic case. In Connecticut, the events in Groton are drawing fresh scrutiny to the more than 100 independent housing agencies across the state, which only has enough affordable rental homes to meet the needs of about one-third of the lowest-income households. 'Until we fix the regulatory disconnect,' said Robert Boris, chair of Groton's economic development commission, 'bad actors will continue to exploit it and working families will continue to the pay the price.' Cappelletti, 58, has worked in public housing for two decades. A graduate of Assumption University, a Catholic school in Worcester, Massachusetts, he joined the housing authority in Stamford, Connecticut, in 2002 to run the city's Section 8 voucher program, according to his LinkedIn profile. In 2009, he became the executive director for the Meriden Housing Authority and five years later tacked on a similar part-time job for the Waterbury Housing Authority. Just before starting at Groton in 2016, he left the post in Waterbury. There, an investigation found he had used $56,653 of public funds to buy a Chevrolet Silverado for business and personal use even though he wasn't entitled to a vehicle, had slid someone onto the payroll without the agency's approval and allowed a contractor to live rent-free in an apartment managed by the agency in exchange for painting work. Cappelletti and Waterbury reached a separation agreement that included no admission of wrongdoing. The Groton job was a relatively modest one — mostly the oversight of 174 rental units — that Cappelletti could do while still running the agency in Meriden some 50 miles away. Cappelletti, though, envisioned much bigger things for Groton. A manufacturing hub just off the Long Island Sound, best known for its naval base, General Dynamics Corp.'s submarine factory and the sprawling research facility for the drugmaker Pfizer Inc., the town had a relatively strong economy. But that had left it with a shortage of affordable housing, and its main commercial corridor was lined with aging, strip-style retail. Cappelletti called his development project Groton 2030. It'd reserve 20% of the 1,925 apartments for lower-income residents, a key selling point to the authority's board, which approved the project in June 2023. Per the plan, Cappelletti would oversee the project himself through a development arm of the housing authority instead of hiring an experienced developer or soliciting bids. One of the housing agency commissioners who signed off on the plan, Joe Greene, soon had regrets. In an interview, Greene said he had reluctantly approved the bond during a last-minute video call but had doubts after asking for details. Cappelletti never presented a real business plan, Greene said, and the town had not received formal notice that one of its agencies was planning a massive bond sale. At odds with the rest of the board, Greene resigned that September. Two years later, he remains mystified by it all. 'I still don't know how you're going to pay off a $750 million bond in a five-year timespan when you don't own the property and when there was no business plan,' he said. 'People were amazed at the amount of money.' With the approval in hand, Cappelletti put the deal in motion. He had the Groton authority pay $25,000 to a New Jersey-based investment banker, according to a check register obtained under a freedom of information request. The authority also hired Connecticut law firm Pullman & Comley as bond counsel and obtained an 'A' rating from Egan-Jones based on a few financial projections it turned & Comley declined to comment. Eric Mandelbaum, general counsel for Egan-Jones, said the firm can't comment on particular transactions but 'stands behind its work and record, which are based on methodologies that are publicly available.' Related Story: A New Ratings Game: 3,000 Deals, 20 Analysts, Lots of Questions The sale bogged down after that. Month after month, its completion kept getting delayed. Then, in May 2024, it all started to unravel on Cappelletti when the Groton commissioners received subpoenas ordering them to travel across the state to provide sworn testimony. Months earlier, a lawsuit had been filed against Cappelletti's Meriden Housing Authority and a subsidiary, Maynard Road Corp., that had defaulted on a $16 million loan. The lender, Titan Capital, subpoenaed the Groton commissioners because Cappelletti had made $629,000 of loan repayments with funds pulled from their agency, not Meriden's. The Meriden agency is now on the hook for about $30 million — to repay the Titan loan with interest as well as $12.5 million owed to Citizens Bank for a project in Bristol, Connecticut. Back in a September 2023 board meeting, the Groton commissioners had asked Capelletti about the cash used to pay off Titan, which was recorded as an expense for the Groton 2030 project. They were assured they'd be reimbursed when the bond deal closed, minutes of the meeting show. But the Meriden lawsuit raised new questions, and when Groton commissioners started digging, they found that companies controlled by Cappelletti had bought properties in Winchester, Connecticut, and Fitchburg, Massachusetts to redevelop. Cappelletti also allegedly forged a resolution to approve $2.7 million of lease agreements for the authority, according to the February lawsuit filed by the Groton agency. 'This case involves the discovery of a massive Ponzi-like fraud,' lawyers for the agency said in a court filing. 'Over the course of at least seven years, Cappelletti accepted millions of dollars in funds from non-commercial lenders or other questionable entities.' In January, the agency suspended Cappelletti and canceled his contract. The FBI probe continues and the lawsuits are wending their way through Connecticut courts. 'Our focus now,' said Frink, the chair of the Groton Housing Authority, 'is to ensure a complete and fulsome investigation.' Cavs Owner Dan Gilbert Wants to Donate His Billions—and Walk Again The SEC Pinned Its Hack on a Few Hapless Day Traders. The Full Story Is Far More Troubling Is Elon Musk's Political Capital Spent? Trump Considers Deporting Migrants to Rwanda After the UK Decides Not To What Does Musk-Trump Split Mean for a 'Big, Beautiful Bill'? ©2025 Bloomberg L.P.

Failed Muni Bond Draws FBI and Sparks `Ponzi-Like Fraud' Claims
Failed Muni Bond Draws FBI and Sparks `Ponzi-Like Fraud' Claims

Bloomberg

time36 minutes ago

  • Bloomberg

Failed Muni Bond Draws FBI and Sparks `Ponzi-Like Fraud' Claims

Before the lawsuits started piling up in courtrooms across Connecticut, before his employer accused him of running a 'massive Ponzi-like fraud,' and before the FBI showed up, Robert Cappelletti looked well on his way to pulling off one of the greatest muni-bond coups of all time. The plan Cappelletti had put together was so audacious it bordered on the fantastical. The housing agency he ran in Groton, a sleepy town of some 40,000 people along Connecticut's Thames River, would sell $750 million of bonds to jumpstart a $4 billion project to transform a bunch of run-down shopping plazas into a sprawling, up-scale development. There'd be a new train station, a hospital, almost 2,000 apartments and dozens of shops and restaurants.

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