By Sharon Coolidge
The Cincinnati Enquirer

He's on the radio telling communities to fight back against crime. Police departments are calling and offering him jobs. The mayor wants him to help stop a record surge of killings on the streets.

Is this the same Ron Twitty who left the Cincinnati Police Department in 2002, convicted of lying during a high-profile investigation into his wrecked city car?

Seventeen months later, Ron Twitty is back.

His misdemeanor criminal record was expunged, and his personal stock is on the rise.

"He's got talents to offer the community, and I've encouraged him to do that," Cincinnati Mayor Charlie Luken says. "While he made a mistake, he is still a voice for thousands."

The comeback of Ron Twitty is unfolding to the delight of his many friends and allies, a network he built over three decades on the force. Supporters say their friend never should have been charged with a crime in the first place.

Detractors, however, say dishonesty is not a trait of good leaders. For a case that raised larger issues of race and fair play, the Twitty affair now shows what happens when disgraced public figures try to win back a community's respect.

Before his conviction, Twitty earned $111,000 a year supervising 160 officers in the investigations bureau. The city's first African-American assistant chief, he met often with community groups and helped calm tempers after the 2001 riots. He was known for walking into almost any place and stopping to give out hugs.

Then his career ground to a halt.

On July 4, Twitty called police and said his unmarked Ford Taurus had been hit while parked in front of his house in Bond Hill. He said he was home sleeping when the car was hit, but others reported seeing him out long past 1 a.m. that morning.

Police Chief Tom Streicher asked the Hamilton County Sheriff's Office to investigate, a grand jury was convened, and the community took sides.

"It came down to a race thing," says Lincoln Ware, who hosts a talk show on WDBZ-AM (1230), where Twitty sometimes fills in as host. "Whites thought he was guilty and lied about what happened. Blacks said he was railroaded because he was next in line to be chief."

After two months of turmoil, Twitty pleaded no contest to attempted obstruction of official business, a misdemeanor. In exchange, he agreed to retire and was fined $1. The case was expunged last month in a routine process, meaning all records of his conviction are barred from public view.

Twitty, 53, wouldn't comment for this story. He says he's innocent and that the cost of the criminal case forced him to make the plea.

Spurred to action

Since he left the department, Twitty has been in semi-retirement, playing a lot of golf and helping his wife run her College Hill beauty salon and a new hair products distributorship.

He's active at New Friendship Baptist Church in Avondale, where he worships on Sundays and conducts weekly meetings with children and teenagers.

He's considering job offers from a few police agencies, he says, but he won't say where. He did say that one department asked him to apply for the chief's position, a job he ultimately did not get.

Twitty retired with a sizable pension - an estimated $70,000 a year, or 70 percent of the average of his top three years of salary.

If Twitty was content to keep his life private, that all changed when a bullet ripped through his stepson's body on Dec. 29, killing him in a sports utility vehicle outside the Carolina Avenue house where his children live.

Hours after Allen Shannon's death, Twitty left his grieving friends and relatives and drove downtown to WDBZ radio, known as "The Buzz."

Condolences poured in for two hours that evening. People called to back him in his vow to fight the violence epitomized by the city's increasing homicides. Last year, 75 people were killed in the city, the highest in 26 years.

"I told my wife, 'I just feel like I've got to do something,' " Twitty told the Enquirer at the time.

A few days after Twitty's broadcast, Luken encouraged him to keep working in the community. Twitty agreed, saying he wanted to honor his stepson's memory by leading a grass-roots effort against violence, especially in Bond Hill.

Luken says everybody is entitled to make a mistake.

"He has paid for it," the mayor says. "He has remarkable ability to communicate with people. He can talk to wide cross sections of citizens - to neighborhood groups, to kids, to disadvantaged people. He can steer them into productive pursuits. His is a familiar voice, a trusted voice."

Bond Hill resident Steven Reece, 56, has known and admired Twitty since he went to Woodward High School in the 1960s. Reece says the court gave Twitty a second chance, now the community should, too.

"He's been consistent with pursuing the dream of helping people in the community," says Reece, father of council member Alicia Reece.

Public trust

Police Chief Tom Streicher, in his first public remarks about Twitty in 17 months, says he rarely speaks with his former assistant and once-close colleague.

He agrees that Twitty has the law enforcement background and wide community network that can help police fight violent crime. But Streicher also is unsure if people are willing to forgive Twitty, and the chief is keeping his own opinions on that matter to himself.

"Individual citizens have to decide for themselves," he says. "One incident does not define an entire person's career."

Streicher says he sticks by his decisions in 2002 to investigate his assistant chief, and he says that dishonesty will never be tolerated on the Cincinnati police force.

"There was a finding of dishonesty," Streicher says. "My position is very clear: A person has to be one hundred percent honest to be entrusted with public trust."

Hamilton County Prosecutor Mike Allen says he's surprised that so many people are willing to forgive Twitty.

Allen spent more than a month investigating the case, including seeking criminal charges from two grand juries.

"Given what he pleaded 'no contest' to and was found guilty of, it is somewhat surprising," Allen says. "He was lying to a supervisor. It's what some consider to be serious."

Others are more blunt.

"He put this city through hell for months. Now he hopes we all have amnesia and memory loss," says Bill Cunningham, who hosts an afternoon talk show on WLW-AM (700) radio.

It's hard to forgive someone who doesn't ask for forgiveness, Cunningham says.

"He's unrepentant ... he hasn't acknowledged what happened," Cunningham says. "Ron Twitty will never be accepted back into the family of Cincinnati leaders until he tells the truth."

Human nature

Authorities on human nature, however, say Americans love to forgive the foibles and misdeeds of public figures.

"Americans have a short memory," says Jason Maloni of Black Arrow Media Strategies, a Washington, D.C.-based public affairs business. "Going hand in hand with people's short memories is a willingness to forgive."

Forgiveness, especially if someone is perceived to have paid a debt to society, is part of human nature, Maloni says.

"Certain occupations like police officers and doctors have a 'good guy' value going for them," he says. "In a case like this, folks will always remember he could restore calm. Compare that to the misdemeanor charge. The mathematical equation doesn't compute."

Cincinnatians are willing to let Twitty slip back into a leadership role because they know it's the fair thing to do, says James Clingman, a part-time professor at the University of Cincinnati's African-American Studies department and former editor of the Cincinnati Herald.

"He was out, then his son was killed and he's back in," Clingman says. "It's not like he committed a heinous crime. Even if he did what they say he did, he can still help move this city forward."

Ware says Twitty is always popular when he fills in as a guest host on the Buzz. Even listeners who think he lied are willing to embrace and trust him now, Ware says.

"People feel like they really know him. He's part of the family."

Ware describes Twitty as a decent guy who cares about the community.

"(He's) come though the ranks of the police department," Ware says. "He was the highest ranking black ever. You don't get to that position easily.

"Something has to be said for that."

Ronald Twitty

Personal: Age 53, lives in Bond Hill.

Education: Graduated from Woodward High School in 1968. Attended Ohio State for one year and earned an associate degree in business from the University of Cincinnati in 1977.

Police career: Became a police officer in 1973, promoted to sergeant in 1981, promoted to lieutenant in 1988, promoted to captain in 1994. He was named one of four assistant chiefs in 1998.

Family: Married to Yvonne; children are grown.

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E-mail scoolidge@enquirer.com