Chito Walker's career as a Charleston cop nearly ended as it was beginning.
It was two days before Christmas 2003 and Walker, 27, felt invincible. He'd recently married his college sweetheart. He was about to become a dad. And he was tapped to join an elite unit tasked with policing violent crime across the Holy City.
But that night, an on-duty car crash left him and three other officers clinging to their lives.
Walker, who suffered a broken neck, pushed through a monthslong recovery process, determined to get back to work. By the end of the following year, three of the injured officers had left the department.
Walker alone stayed. Policing was his life's mission. The crash reinforced that belief.
Now, at age 47, he has taken the reins of the only department he has ever known. He officially became the top cop of this coastal city of 160,000 in November. He is the first homegrown chief in at least a half-century and the force's second Black leader since its 1856 start.
Throughout his 24-year career in Charleston, Walker has operated in the background, assuming various roles from patrol sergeant and detective to SWAT team leader and deputy chief. He finds himself at the helm of South Carolina's largest municipal police force during a precarious moment for both the department and the city.
He succeeds the beloved Chief Luther Reynolds, who died May 22 from cancer. And he'll be working with Mayor William Cogswell, who in November defeated incumbent John Tecklenburg, the man who appointed Walker as chief.
Cogswell raised concerns during his campaign about crime in the city, criticizing the police response under Tecklenburg to the 2020 riots that caused extensive but relatively minor damage along King Street, the peninsula's main retail and nightlife corridor. He labeled the department's current strategy in corralling nighttime crowds of inebriated bar-goers as a "Band-aid" approach.
Walker, who declined to discuss the new mayor's critiques, had met with Cogswell before he took over City Hall on Jan. 8. The chief said specifics about their joint goals for the city will come as they settle into their respective positions.
Walker plans to draw on his deep understanding of the community and relationships fostered throughout his career to police the rapidly changing city. He's friendly and outgoing, with an innate desire to know the people he serves. But he's guarded about his personal life and the challenges he has been through.
He hesitates to talk about race, the near-death accident that defined his early career or the traumatic scenes he has witnessed since. He shies away from the limelight, preferring to work diligently behind the scenes — a proclivity he will likely have to balance with the demands of this new, public-facing role.
The Golden Rule
Walker spent his childhood in Greenville and likes to joke about how he wouldn't survive in the North. He says 'Hi' too much.
Walker and his younger brother Orlando were mostly raised by their mother. She named her oldest son Chito but is the only person outside his professional life who calls him that. Everyone else uses "Chico" — a nickname so old Walker has no idea where it came from.
He remembers playing softball every summer in a recreation league sponsored by the Greenville Police Department. It was one of Walker's first positive interactions with law enforcement, he said.
His dad was largely absent in his youth, though the two are close now. Walker credits his maternal grandfather, George Sullivan, with shaping the person he is today.
Sullivan was born in 1924 in the rural Upstate. He raised 11 children, never finished elementary school and was one of the smartest people Walker has ever met.
He emphasized the Golden Rule: Treat others the way you want to be treated. It's a lesson Walker applies to every facet of his life, including how he thinks about policing and race.
Walker grew up in a neighborhood where cops sometimes racially profiled residents, he said, declining to give examples. He acknowledges disparities that exist within his profession and wants to validate peoples' bad experiences. (Critics of law enforcement say a recent analysis of Charleston County jail bookings, for instance, suggests the overpolicing of Black people.)
But Walker did not define specific issues. And when asked about systemic failures, he instead talked about the individual responsibility to do what he considers morally right.
Quintin Washington talks with Charleston Police Chief Chito Walker while he patrols on his police golf cart on Nov. 20, 2023. Andrew J. Whitaker/Staff
"My biggest thing is controlling the things I have control over," he said, later adding, "I can't help all the bad things that ever happened in this profession, but I can make sure certain histories don't repeat."
Walker refuses to let the wrongdoings of others define him or policing as a whole. He has always tried to use his position as a cop to treat everyone he encounters with fairness, and he encourages the same from his colleagues.
Walker picked up his straightforward approach and strong sense of accountability from Sullivan. The older man constantly reminded his grandson of the abundance of choices at his disposal, compared to when Sullivan grew up.
"If you squandered those opportunities, don't ever, ever blame anyone," he would tell Walker.
Sullivan was proud when his grandson left Greenville to attend South Carolina State University in Orangeburg. Walker thought he might be a computer science major — he always liked math, with its clear-cut answers and specific formulas.
But he quickly realized he didn't want to be stuck behind a desk all day. He yearned for something more. He met students and professors in the university's criminal justice program. They spoke about community relations and what "criminal justice" means in different parts of the community.
"I got sold on it pretty quick," Walker said.
A lot changed by the time he graduated in 1999. He helped lead Alpha Phi Alpha, the fraternity at S.C. State whose members were known for having the highest GPAs, completing the most community service hours and performing the best step shows. And he had decided to make law enforcement his career.
He also met a woman named Kema, a bubbly cheerleader who was majoring in Family and Consumer Sciences. She immediately saw Walker as a hard worker whose reserved nature balanced her outgoing personality.
Charleston’s new Police Chief Chito Walker sheds a tear while looking at Caroline Reynolds during Walker’s swearing-in ceremony at Segra Club at Riley Park on Nov. 1, 2023, in Charleston. Reynolds' late husband and former police chief Luther Reynolds died from cancer in May. Andrew J. Whitaker/Staff
Kema took him home to Mount Pleasant to meet her parents. Walker fell deeper in love — not only with his future wife and her tight-knit family, but with the Lowcountry and its charming, laid-back lifestyle.
He applied to three police departments upon graduating: Charleston, Charlotte and Gwinnett County, near Atlanta. He hoped for a spot in the Holy City. He would have a built-in family support system there, and he appreciated then-Chief Reuben Greenberg's requirement that all employees have four-year college degrees. Walker liked that the department valued education.
He went straight to work as a patrol officer in West Ashley after graduating from the state's Criminal Justice Academy in April 2000.
Kema said she could tell right away that he had found his calling. Law enforcement seemed a natural fit for Walker, who arrived at the department hungry for a deeper understanding of his new community and its needs.
Greenberg noticed, too. Walker said he hadn't finished his new hire probationary period when the chief selected him and five others to join Safe Streets, a specialized unit responding to violent crime across the city.
The unit evolved from the so-called "Flying Squad," elite two-man teams who took an in-your-face approach to crime prevention. Greenberg started the squad in 1982 shortly after becoming chief to clean up the city's East Side neighborhood, which struggled with entrenched poverty, drugs and violent crime. He sent big, fast and young cops to confront suspects and chase down criminals — sometimes collecting complaints of police brutality.
Greenberg renamed the program in the early 1990s to Safe Streets and shifted its strategy to prioritize community relations. These jack-of-all-trade cops augmented the investigative, homicide and narcotics units by responding to crime hot spots.
Walker looks back on those years as some of the most fun and formative of his career. He likened the unit to playing a team sport; the collaborative nature became a hallmark of Walker's leadership style, he said.
He was riding with three of his Safe Street teammates on Dec. 23, 2003, the night they almost died.
Handling tragedy
Walker was in the backseat of a 1994 Ford Crown Victoria with the other plainclothes officers when they noticed a silver Grand Am running a stop sign. The car matched the description of one they were told to be on the lookout for.
The officers chased the car until it got too far ahead. They wound up in North Charleston, near the Spruill Avenue exit off Interstate 26.
Walker doesn't remember much about what happened next.
All of a sudden the police cruiser had jumped a curb, briefly teetering on the guardrail before flipping over an embankment. The car tumbled 170 feet, according to a report from the S.C. Highway Patrol, which investigated the crash.
Each of the four officers suffered serious injuries. Walker broke his neck, collarbone and other parts of his spine. The Highway Patrol ultimately issued the officer driving a citation for going too fast for conditions.
Walker isn't comfortable talking about the accident, but he said it forced the cops to form a bond they didn't ask for on top of the one they'd already established by spending countless hours together during late-night shifts.
Charleston Police Chief Chito Walker talks with North Charleston Police Captain Corey Holt at a CPD leadership Summit in downtown Charleston on Nov. 16, 2023. Andrew J. Whitaker/Staff
He's still in touch with the other three.
The ordeal couldn't have come at a worse time for Walker. His wife gave birth to their first daughter the following month. He couldn't drive himself to the hospital when Kema went into labor — a sobering moment for a man who, weeks prior, was in the best shape of his life.
"I was still in the neck brace," he said. "I had a place next to my wife when we went to the hospital."
Walker said the accident changed the entire trajectory of his life. He was forced to reckon with his own mortality. He started to think deeply about his purpose and priorities. He realized who truly loved him.
"You see the world (with) a totally different perspective," Walker said.
His strength and patience were tested. He pushed himself to recover faster, to get back to work sooner. He wanted to prove to himself and his colleagues that he was capable of performing the same duties as before the crash. Coming back to work was never a question for him. It was only a matter of when.
Kema looks back at those months as some of the most difficult in her marriage. Even though she worried about Walker and the other officers' safety, she never asked him to end his policing career.
"What do you feel like you want to do?" Kema remembers saying. "If you feel like you're ready, you let me know. And I'll be here to support you."
Walker returned to the Safe Streets unit about six months later, still building back his strength. Deputy Chief Jack Weiss, who was also in the unit but happened to be off the night of the accident, understood the injured officers' need to ease back in.
Their unit didn't outwardly discuss mental health or trauma responses, though Weiss remembers the four officers zoning out at times or seeming unsettled. Getting back inside a police car, especially to chase a suspect, was difficult.
Overcoming these struggles ultimately made Walker a better supervisor, the deputy chief said.
Walker emerged from the accident with empathy and a story of triumph that could inspire struggling officers, Weiss said.
"You do have to handle those types of things," he said. "People have tragedies."
Charleston’s newest police chief Chito Walker has held a variety of roles throughout his nearly 24 years at the department. But it was his wife Kema Walker who has been his rock during his time here in Charleston.
Confronting trauma
Walker encourages new officers to build a support system of family members and friends outside the profession. Cops regularly witness horrific scenes. They shouldn't try and process their trauma alone, he said.
Walker understands this firsthand.
He's been part of nearly every critical incident affecting the city since 2000, from major hurricanes, riots and gang wars to the 2007 Sofa Super Store fire that left nine firefighters dead.
He made the call for his team to take down the disgruntled Virginia's on King employee, who in 2017 fatally shot the executive chef, pointed his gun at diners and held the general manager hostage, threatening to kill his captive and himself.
He oversaw the SWAT team in June 2015 when a white supremacist murdered nine Black worshippers at the historic Emanuel AME Church. Walker was off when the call came in, but he immediately went to the scene on Calhoun Street.
Charleston Police Chief Chito Walker drives his golf cart while out on a patrol in Wagener Terrace in Charleston. Andrew J. Whitaker/Staff
Even now, eight years later, Walker seems removed when talking about the massacre. He offers a recollection that is devoid of emotion and littered with police jargon.
"My role, from a tactical aspect, was planning out our grid searches and getting resources in place to try to find and locate this individual that was responsible for that," he said.
It's typical for cops to suppress their feelings and let their training kick in during high-intensity situations, Walker said. And he doesn't like to discuss the tragedy out of respect for the victims and their families.
But the emotions are still there. Charleston is the smallest big city you'll find, Walker says. Each crisis has a way of becoming personal.
He married Kema in that church.
Eddie Lesane, who met Walker in college, remembers getting ready with the bridal party in the church basement — the same wood-paneled room where the parishioners were holding Bible study when the gunman opened fire.
Lesane is part of Walker's tight-knit circle of trusted confidantes. He lives in Maryland, but the two remain close through phone calls and vacations. In the wake of the shooting, Lesane noticed Walker making a concerted effort to protect his well-being by attending church, working out, eating right and spending time with family.
And what Lesane remembers most about Walker's response was how proud he was of Charleston for coming together to denounce what occurred, seemingly as one unified voice.
A changing city
Whenever he can spare a few minutes in his packed schedule, Walker likes to hop into his city-issued golf cart and patrol the peninsula.
"Hey! How y'all doing?" Walker will boom from behind the wheel, his Upstate drawl in full effect. "Y'all good?"
He'll shout the same phrase to every person he encounters on his route, easing up on the accelerator until he makes eye contact or gets a wave in response. Only then will Walker continue down the road, scanning for someone else to greet.
He marvels at how drastically the city has changed. Charleston's population ballooned from 96,000 to 160,000 since he moved here 24 years ago.
Walker can't believe the number of renovated homes and new faces he sees in Wagener Terrace, now an affluent neighborhood sandwiched between Rutledge Avenue and the Ashley River, north of Hampton Park.
He stops to speak with an older Black man who says he's lived in Charleston his entire life. The neighborhood was predominately Black when Walker first patrolled the city. Its demographics have shifted to mostly well-off, White residents.
Wagener Terrace isn't unique. Entire communities both on and off the peninsula look different from when Walker first moved to the Lowcountry. So do their needs.
The new chief attended an event on Daniel Island where residents voiced concerns about speeding on a handful of roads. Car break-ins are the biggest issue in other parts of the city, Walker said.
And for a group of neighbors who live near a corner store on Reid Street in the peninsula's East Side, their loudest complaints are about loiterers outside the business who sometimes drink, litter and harass pedestrians, they say.
Walker knows the neighborhood, bordered by Chapel, Huger, Meeting and East Bay streets, particularly well. The Safe Streets unit spent a lot of time there in the early 2000s, trying to quell violence that often went hand-in-hand with grinding poverty. Young men brazenly hawked heroin, crack cocaine and other drugs in an open-air market that lured outsiders to the area.
The East Side underwent marked changes in the past decade, as Charleston's soaring housing prices drove more and more college students, young professionals and would-be homebuyers to the neighborhood in search of affordable rents and mortgages.
Longtime Black residents have been pushed out by the rising prices that followed, leading to tensions over gentrification.
Violence occasionally strikes the area. A mass shooting at a raucous Memorial Day block party in 2022 left 10 people injured. More recently, a man was shot Dec. 8 at Reid and Hanover streets, near the corner store.
Walker met with a group of East Side residents in mid-November. He listened to their concerns while providing context to the issues they raised. And he reminded the residents that cops can't tell people to quit walking up and down the sidewalk if they're not breaking any laws.
He stopped by the corner store days later during one of his golf cart rides, taking time to chat with neighbors, the store's owner and two officers stationed outside.
"People want to be validated," he said. "Do I have all the answers? Sometimes I don't. And that's OK. That's where the dialogue and collaboration come in."
Walker returned to the neighborhood again the next day. Tim Weber, an East Side resident and former City Council candidate, said the chief's enthusiasm is refreshing.
Charleston Police Chief Chito Walker walks along the corner of Hanover Street and Reid Street while he patrols on his police golf cart in Charleston’s East Side neighborhood on Nov. 20, 2023. Andrew J. Whitaker/Staff
It's a lot easier to handle issues when you have relationships with the people in the community, Walker said, a key lesson he learned during his time in Safe Streets.
Cops in the unit treated people with respect no matter the situation, according to Weiss. Longtime residents still recognize the officers and will stop to chat, he added.
Sure enough, just as Walker was about to get back in his golf cart, he flagged down a man riding a bike near the corner store. It was Mark Anthony Vanderhorst, an East Side resident Walker has seen around the community for years. He wanted to say hello.
A new era
What will Walker's legacy be?
The new chief envisions a "policing utopia" — a place where the department is transparent, trustworthy and fair. Though he might not achieve such a goal, Walker said he will never stop striving to get there. And as top cop, he has to model that responsibility.
Walker was quick to walk the talk in December when he fired Dawson Dyer mere hours after the 24-year-old cop's patrol vehicle collided with three cars, leaving himself and two others injured. Dyer was off-duty when the crash occurred and was charged with driving under the influence.
"It only takes one incident to destroy the things that you've built," Walker said. "And you have to protect that."
He'll take notes from the three chiefs he served under, each of whom left an imprint on the way officers watch over their city.
The Charleston Police Chief badge is worn by Chito Walker in his office on Nov. 13, 2023, at the Charleston Police Department. Andrew J. Whitaker/Staff
Greenberg — Charleston's first Black chief — introduced a high level of professionalism and employed community engagement tactics during his 23-year tenure beginning in 1982. He required officers to have college degrees and put them on the street on foot, bicycle and horseback. He often could be spotted roller-skating with a police radio strapped to his side.
Greg Mullen modernized the department after his arrival in 2006. Crime analysts started using computer software to map trends and identify crime hot spots. A network of video cameras went up around the city to monitor high-crime areas and tourist zones.
And Reynolds, who took the helm in 2018, was all about building relationships. He fostered empathy and compassion among the rank and file. Walker said Reynolds gave Charleston cops the tools they needed — from education and training to new equipment — to better serve the community.
Details about Walker's plans to lead the department remain hazy. He says he will work with the new mayor and other city leaders to make sure Charleston has the infrastructure, services and law enforcement to meet the needs of its booming population. He wants to oversee a progressive police force with officers who aren't afraid to break from tradition and try something different.
After years working behind the scenes, Walker is poised to step from the shadows and begin writing his own legacy as chief.
