- [Narrator] "ncIMPACT" is a PBS North Carolina production in association with the University of North Carolina School of Government.

Funding for "ncIMPACT" is made possible by... - [Narrator] Changing the course of people's lives, that's the impact UNC Health and the UNC School of Medicine work to deliver every day.

Our 40,000 team members across the state of North Carolina are committed to caring for you, our patients and communities, as well as educating the next generation of healthcare professionals.

Individually, we can do a little, but collectively, we can do a lot to create impact.

[air whooshes] [soft music] - Public safety is under unprecedented strain.

We reveal how counties are working with community partners on pioneering new ways to protect their communities.

This is "ncIMPACT."

[upbeat music] Welcome to "ncIMPACT."

I'm Anita Brown-Graham.

In a crisis, a calm voice on the other end of the line can mean the difference between life and death.

But across North Carolina, 911 centers are facing a critical shortage of dispatchers.

We visited Richmond County, where they've come up with an innovative solution to staff these vital lifelines.

- Imagine calling 911 in your most desperate moment only to be met by silence.

Across North Carolina and the nation, this nightmare scenario is becoming increasingly possible as 911 call centers face a critical staffing shortage.

Dispatchers are overworked and under immense pressure, they're leaving the profession at alarming rates.

And the shortage means longer wait times for callers in emergencies, where every second can be the difference between life and death.

[siren blaring] But how did we get here?

And what's being done about it?

In the next few minutes, I'll try to find those answers.

911, what is the address of your emergency?

And then put myself in a dispatcher seat to see if I can field a simulated 911 call.

I'm David Hurst.

This is "ncIMPACT."

[upbeat music] [people chattering] Inside the Richmond County 911 dispatch center, rows of computer screens glow with incoming calls.

This is where life-and-death decisions happen every day.

Garrett McInnis is an assistant shift supervisor here.

With only 21 dispatchers instead of the required 24, they're what he calls slightly short-staffed.

- It takes a toll on everybody here.

I mean, you have to pick up more shifts, you're working longer, you seem like you spend more time here than you do at home.

[chuckles] - [David] And those working conditions has meant the county has lost dispatchers.

But this challenge goes far beyond Richmond County.

Across America, one in four 911 dispatch positions sit empty.

The mix of high-stress work and low wages while remote work options were exploding during the pandemic created a significant workforce shortage by 2021.

Then it got worse.

The exodus of workers resulted in increased overtime for the remaining staff, and this just created a cycle of overwork and burnout.

- Most of the time when you pick up a phone call, you're talking to somebody on their worst day.

And so having those conversations on a frequent basis can be difficult and it's not made for everybody.

- [David] So in Richmond County, their solution to fix this goes beyond recruitment.

Their innovative training program aims to better prepare and retain dispatchers for the demanding reality of the job.

Richmond Community College has created the first comprehensive degree program specifically for 911 telecommunications.

The program covers everything from crisis management to the psychology of emergency response.

Students learn through advanced simulation technology, hands-on training, and real-world experience in actual 911 centers.

But what might make this program unique is its reach.

Through partnerships with other community colleges, they're taking it statewide.

- You've got to invest in those folks because they're the difference between, in many cases, life and death.

- So how do you train someone to handle life-or-death situations in a classroom?

I wanted to find out firsthand, so I sat down to try their dispatch simulation software.

911, what is the address of your emergency?

Samantha Peaks, Richmond County's 911 training coordinator, helped me through the call.

What is the phone number you're calling from?

On the other end of the line is an AI-generated caller whose neighbor had fallen off a ladder.

Is someone helping him?

During the four-minute call, I got the necessary information from the caller and routed paramedics to the scene.

All right.

I think we did pretty good.

[both laughing] Samantha's laugh wasn't very reassuring, so I checked my results.

Oh, so I got a D, [chuckles] 61%.

Not too bad for my first try.

- [Samantha] So, with no training, I think you did great.

- [David] All right, I'll take it.

- [Samantha] [laughs] I think you did great.

- [David] So probably a few sessions with you and I'll be good to go, right?

- Yeah, absolutely.

[David chuckles] Come on.

[laughs] - [David] But as my D-grade performance showed, training is just the first hurdle.

[pensive music] Retention of trained dispatchers remains a significant issue in the industry.

Data from several emergency call centers indicate high turnover rates, with some reporting that up to half of new hires leave within their first year.

Industry experts cite several factors for this, including job stress, shift work, and compensation levels.

So how are emergency call centers trying to plug this leak of talent?

In Richmond County, they're focusing on the human element.

From peer support programs to responder assistance initiatives, they're creating a network that helps dispatchers manage the emotional toll of the job.

But across the country, agencies are also turning to technology to ease the burden on their teams.

For example, some agencies are turning to artificial intelligence to streamline calls.

The software automatically transcribes calls and can route non-emergencies while elevating serious incidents like burglaries or shootings directly to human dispatchers.

Other centers are allowing their telecommunicators to work directly from home and answer calls remotely.

But while agencies experiment with AI and remote work to ease the burden on dispatchers, there's a more fundamental problem that's holding them back.

911 dispatchers are officially classified as clerical workers, similar to receptionists and customer service representatives.

This classification means lower pay, fewer benefits, and less recognition for the critical work that literally saves lives.

- No one recognize the unsung heroes that are behind the scenes.

The most important person you're gonna talk to is the one you never see.

- [David] But this could change.

The Enhancing First Response Act is before Congress.

It would reclassify dispatchers as protective service occupations, officially recognizing them as first responders.

Reclassification could help dispatchers get better benefits and higher wages.

- This isn't just a typical desk job, and that's where we're starting to grow the public's understanding of that.

- [David] Even as staffing shortages strain the system, Garrett McInnis finds optimism in these new approaches and hasn't lost sight of why he chose this career in the first place.

- I mean, it has its dark days, but I think if you can, if you can take every little win that you get, the bigger picture is the fact that you get to help people.

[dispatchers chattering and laughing] - [David] For "ncIMPACT," I'm David Hurst.

[soft music] - While some communities are working to staff 911 centers, others are rethinking who even responds to those calls.

A bold experiment is underway in Sylva, North Carolina.

When certain calls come in, it's not always a law enforcement officer who responds.

We'll examine how social workers are becoming part of our emergency response teams.

- What if when you called 911 in crisis, the person who responded wasn't a police officer but a social worker?

This is happening in some parts of North Carolina.

- I'm gonna be out with individuals at Poteet Park.

- You see, about 20% of 911 calls involve a mental health or substance use crisis.

But across America, we're wrestling with a hard truth.

Our police often aren't equipped to handle mental health emergencies.

So what happens?

Well, often people end up arrested, or worse.

This means that about half of the prison population in North Carolina needs mental health treatment, and that overburdens a criminal justice system that's not designed for patient care.

But what if we could change that?

What if we could reimagine what crisis response looks like?

That's what they're doing here in Sylva, North Carolina.

- I got to see firsthand some of the best police work I've ever seen done by an intern.

- In this video, we'll ride along with a social worker as she responds to a call about a homeless couple in crisis, giving us a rare look at how these encounters really unfold.

We'll find out, is this partnership between police and social workers the key to safer communities or is it just a temporary fix to a solution that runs deeper?

I'm David Hurst.

This is "ncIMPACT."

[upbeat music] [protesters shouting] In the summer of 2020, protests erupted nationwide following George Floyd's murder.

A crucial conversation about policing in America was taking center stage.

How tough was policing during that time?

- Policing in 2020 was...

I've been doing this for about 27 years and that was definitely the most challenging time.

- [David] The calls for change were clear.

Communities wanted alternatives to armed officers responding to every crisis.

But what could a small town deep in the mountains of North Carolina do about it?

It's a challenge facing 90% of America's police departments, small forces with fewer than 15 officers.

- A lot of the models that we were able to find when we looked across the country are in large cities.

You can't pick it up from Raleigh and drop it in Sylva and expect it to work the same way.

- [David] Without big city budgets, they needed a different solution.

That's when two Western Carolina University professors saw an opportunity.

Katy Allen from social work and Cyndy Caravelis from criminal justice had a simple but radical idea.

What if they placed social work interns directly within the police department?

When Sylva's police chief first heard the idea, he liked it but was skeptical with co-responding, that means sending students along with police officers to crisis situations.

- When the program first started, I was pretty serious about no co-responding.

I just thought that was not a good use of time and saw some problems with that.

But what happened is our intern ended up wanting to do a ride-along to learn more about the police officers and why they do what they do.

I got to see firsthand some of the best police work I've ever seen done by an intern, a social work intern.

- [David] And that experience changed everything.

It also came at a time when Chief Hatton was realizing how few options his officers had when responding to crisis calls.

- Like I said, our officers, we have jail.

That's what we're given to handle problems.

That's not very effective tools because if somebody, if mental illness is the core problem, then jail's not gonna help that.

- [David] So in October of 2021, Sylva launched the Community Care Program, - SP20 county.

- The concept was simple.

Place social work interns from Western Carolina inside the police department to serve as a bridge between law enforcement and social services.

These interns could ride along on calls and offer immediate support when officers needed it.

But unlike police work, which often ends when the crisis is contained, the social workers keep going, following up with individuals and connecting them to resources.

Galadriel LaVere started as one of these interns.

Now, as the department's full-time Community Care coordinator, she can respond to calls on her own.

When you respond, or even when you first responded, what was the response from these folks when you would show up rather than a police officer?

- It was mixed.

I think initially there was skepticism, but now just through word of mouth and the people that I work with, a lot of people are interested in figuring out how I can help.

- [David] While we're chatting with Galadriel, she got a call, so we hopped in to see the program in action.

- [Galadriel] I've been called to Dillsboro Road.

There's a couple there.

They are in need of transportation.

They've got some health issues going on and are experiencing homelessness.

- So someone called 911 saying they were there, police responded first- - Yes.

- They thought it'd be good for you to come out?

- [Galadriel] Yes.

I mean, basically it's a, it's a 10-60 call, suspicious people, because due to her health considerations, she has to sit down a lot.

So they were sitting on somebody's property, which is why they called 911.

- Hello.

- So, who?

[censored] Oh, I remember them.

- This is the one from Sunday.

- Yeah, did you talk to them at Mark Watson?

- [Galadriel] I didn't, but I've heard their names a while ago.

- Yeah.

She went to the hospital.

- Okay, where is- - Sunday.

They're over there.

- They're over there.

- Hey, how you doing?

- Hey, good, how are you?

- Well, this is Galadriel.

- [Client] She won't be able to stand long.

- [Galadriel] Oh, she doesn't have to stand up.

I can come over here.

- Okay.

- I can come over here.

- All right.

Yeah, it don't matter wherever it is 'cause, you guys, we just need to get to Waynesville, go to that shelter, talk to them, call some people on wifi and then try to, you know, they had that wifi, and try to, you know, get back home.

You know, it's as simple as we wanna make it.

[chuckles] - [Galadriel] Remind them I said like around three o'clock.

- Okay.

- Okay.

- [David] From this call alone, we can see the complex challenges Galadriel faces daily.

She managed to find transportation for her clients this time, but it's likely a temporary fix to a deeper problem.

- The majority of my clients, you kinda have the trifecta of homelessness, substance use, and mental health disorders.

- Okay.

- And there's usually at least two of those at play.

- [David] And this is where rural communities like Sylva face their biggest hurdles.

There's no homeless shelter, no mental health facility, and no addiction treatment center.

- So, in our community, and in many rural communities, people are willing to receive treatment and help, but we don't have anywhere to send them.

- [David] These gaps in rural infrastructure could have derailed the entire program.

Instead, it forced innovation.

The focus shifted from just handling emergencies to preventing them in the first place.

They created a network across neighboring counties, connecting people to resources like shelters, treatment centers, and food assistance programs in surrounding areas.

- I think as we continue to do this and have people working and really caring about these populations, that it will open other people's eyes to the holes in care that exist because they're big.

- [David] The program now operates in seven police departments across Western North Carolina, with four more waiting to join.

But program leaders say success in one town doesn't guarantee it will work in another.

- This is not a magic bullet.

This is not "we will provide you with a social worker and all of your problems will be solved."

This is a slow growth model.

- [David] So across North Carolina, communities are finding their own ways to reimagine crisis response.

In Jacksonville, the Dix Crisis Center offers an alternative to jails and emergency rooms.

In Hickory, police partner with social services through the LEAD program.

It helps people access care instead of moving straight to punishment.

But even still, challenges remain.

Rural communities still face significant gaps in mental health care, housing, and addiction treatment.

For Chief Hatton, who was once skeptical about letting social workers ride along, now there's no going back.

- I have no intentions of ever being a police chief anywhere else, but this for me would be, that would be a deal-breaker for me, like either we have a social worker or we're going to get a social worker.

I wouldn't wanna do this job, not without one.

[soft music] - [David] For "ncIMPACT," I'm David Hurst.

- Rethinking public safety goes beyond emergency calls.

It extends to what happens after the crisis and after incarceration, possibly.

The number of women behind bars is rising faster than it is for men.

We've heard that many reentry programs simply fail to meet the needs of women.

We visit Alamance County, where a new approach aims to help formerly incarcerated women rebuild their lives.

[air whooshes] - There are more women incarcerated in North Carolina than ever before in history, and they're not in urban centers like you would imagine.

Most are right here in rural communities.

And it used to not be this way.

In fact, for a long time, if you lived in a city, you were much more likely to end up in jail than if you called the countryside home.

But about 20 years ago, things started to flip.

Now rural people are more than twice as likely to land behind bars versus those in urban areas.

And once these women are released, they face a whole new set of hurdles: finding a job, finding a place to live, and even reuniting with their children and family.

So how did we get here, and who's stepping up to break this cycle?

I'm David Hurst.

This is "ncIMPACT."

[upbeat music] During her four and a half years in prison, Mona Evans was told life after release would be manageable.

If she followed the rules, opportunities would be there.

- That wasn't true.

So I was completely blindsided, honestly.

- [David] When women like Evans return to their rural or small town communities, they often face significant barriers with limited resources to overcome them.

And now that more women are cycling through the system from these areas, the need for support after release is growing.

In fact, nationally, women's incarceration has grown as twice the pace of men's in recent decades, and that's not happening in big cities but in small rural communities.

So how did we get here?

Well, it all began in the 1990s, which marked a turning point in women's incarceration rates.

The widespread adoption of broken windows policing led to increased arrest for minor offenses like petty theft, disorderly conduct, and loitering.

At the same time, the war on drugs escalated the criminalization and enforcement of drug offenses.

These changes cast a wider net in snaring more individuals in the criminal justice system.

Now, these policies affected both men and women, but they had a disproportionate impact on women.

They're just more likely to be involved in the minor offenses targeted by these new approaches.

At the same time, rural jail populations had been surging.

Rural areas of between 10,000 and 50,000 people now have the highest rates of pre-trial detention.

But why is that?

Well, researchers say that it stems from a complex web of issues, including limited alternatives to incarceration, rising pre-trial detention rates, and increasing financial incentives to contract out jail beds.

Fast-forward back to now and former incarcerated women are facing a dire housing crisis, 10 times more likely to experience homelessness than the general public.

They're also required to pay double the standard security deposit by property managers.

- Affordable housing is a big crisis right now, but for people who are coming out of prison who don't have savings or a job immediately, finding a safe and secure place to live is nearly impossible.

- [David] This is what inspired initiatives like Benevolence Farm.

It's a quiet 13-acre farm in rural southern Alamance County.

They provide transitional housing and part-time employment for women leaving incarceration.

But even they can't keep up with the demand.

Last year alone, they had to turn away 41 women due to lack of space.

So they rolled up their sleeves and built tiny homes on the farm property.

- Yeah, so this is an example of what we're trying to build.

We're currently fundraising to build about seven more of these.

Someone's gonna move in, and in the next few weeks or so, they'll have full access to a bathroom with their own shower, kitchen, little reading/relaxation/office area.

And then obviously, the bedroom is upstairs.

- So the goal is always short-term until they can find somewhere on their own, right?

- Yeah, the idea, ultimately, even for Benevolence Farm, we want to create systemic change, so we want to be able to have people live in their community and be accepted.

And so, ultimately too, we wanna be able to connect people to renter or apartment leasers and property managers so that they can live in community coming out of prison.

- [David] But even with the tiny homes, Benevolence Farm can only accommodate a handful of women at a time.

So they joined forces with organizations across the region to expand their reach, organizations like Jubilee Home, just down the interstate in Durham.

After decades of providing traditional housing for men, Jubilee Home is now expanding their mission.

They're opening their first home for women.

- This here was all open, kind of community space, with the kitchen seamless into dining and living, but then also separate from the living space upstairs where we have three bedrooms and two bathrooms.

So we'll be able to house probably four women.

It's a great layout for what we wanna do and we're really excited to be able to offer this.

- [David] But even after women leaving incarceration find a place to lay their head, their next big challenge is finding work.

Take Mona Evans.

Today, she works full-time at Benevolence Farm, but her job search after release revealed an unexpected reality.

- Prior to incarceration, certain jobs was jobs I wouldn't even apply at.

So it was kind of very discouraging that, you know, I was denied these opportunities after incarceration.

- Benevolence Farm is able to offer employment through their sustainable farming and body care product lines.

But it's limited, as it only offers part-time work for a handful of women.

And perhaps this is why North Carolina decided to take broader action.

Under Executive Order 303, the state has set an ambitious goal: increase the number of businesses hiring former inmates by 30% before 2030.

And with more than 100 million now directed toward reentry support, North Carolina is putting special emphasis on helping rural communities.

What does that mean to you that more resources, funding, are starting to funnel towards rural communities?

- Rural reentry is really important to us, obviously, being here in Alamance County, but I think it also shows the investment in the people who often feel forgotten in rural communities.

So to know that rural reentry investments are coming down the pike is a way to show that we care about the people who are returning home to rural and their families as well.

- But employment and housing are only part of the whole reentry story.

Think about it.

When someone is coming back, they're juggling a lot.

They not only need housing and a job but also healthcare and food.

Evans says depending on the woman's convictions, some residents do not receive food stamps.

North Carolina is one of 21 states that have some sort of permanent ban for individuals with serious drug felonies from receiving food assistance from the federal government.

Returning citizens are twice as likely to experience food insecurity compared to the general population.

And if you're a mother, that's a very scary statistic.

And how much of a challenge is that for people when they're not able to access SNAP benefits?

- For someone that was coming home from prison in this situation and was not at a reentry program, not only would they be looking at possibly being homeless but now trying to figure out where to get food also.

- [David] Data from state and federal agencies show that effective reentry programs can reduce the chances of people getting locked up again.

But the Department of Justice emphasizes an important caveat: programs that work in one community may not work in another.

In fact, they say ineffective programs are not only a poor allocation of time and resources, they may also contribute to recidivism.

That's why North Carolina, and their new $100 million investment I mentioned earlier, hopes their approach will be different.

Instead of a one-size-fits-all solution, the funding will establish 11 new local reentry councils.

This will bring services to 27 more counties, including Alamance.

These councils unite local organizations and resources, creating a one-stop shop where returning residents can access coordinated support based on their specific needs.

But while state funding and new programs promise change, some of the most meaningful support may come from those who have walked this path before.

- I know a lot of times, whether they're parents or if they're just being released from prison, they're trying to find their way, it is very cool for them to come into the house and see, you know, the work that I'm doing here and then also, like, see me on staff, and that gives them a sense of hope.

So, I take pride in it.

- [David] For Mona Evans, her experience is now helping other women write their own success stories at Benevolence Farm.

♪ Let's lose track of time ♪ ♪ Oh, darling, stay for a little longer ♪ ♪ While I hold you tight ♪ - [David] For "ncIMPACT," I'm David Hurst.

♪ So put your head up on my shoulder ♪ - We're trying something new this season.

We're focusing more on the experts on the ground.

Thank you to those experts, our local leaders, who are featured in this episode.

They so generously allowed us to share the inspirational stories of their collaborative work.

And, as always, thank you to you, our amazing audience, for watching and engaging at such high levels.

Tell us what your community is doing or how we can help you.

Email us at ncIMPACT@unc.edu or message us on Facebook or LinkedIn.

And be sure to join us every Friday night at 7:30 on PBS North Carolina for new episodes of "ncIMPACT."

[upbeat music] [upbeat music continues] - [Narrator] "ncIMPACT" is a PBS North Carolina production in association with the University of North Carolina School of Government.

Funding for "ncIMPACT" is made possible by... - [Narrator] Changing the course of people's lives, that's the impact UNC Health and the UNC School of Medicine work to deliver every day.

Our 40,000 team members across the state of North Carolina are committed to caring for you, our patients and communities, as well as educating the next generation of healthcare professionals.

Individually, we can do a little, but collectively, we can do a lot to create impact.