U.S. News
On Patrol in a Third World Wasteland Just Miles From the White House
Decay, violence, hopelessness in Washington D.C.'s worst neighborhoods
Shocking conditions minutes from epicenter of global superpower
It’s just before 10 p.m. as I park my SUV in front of the 7th District Police Station in Washington, D.C.
My ride-along is scheduled until 2 a.m., and I’m already wondering if this is the last night I’ll see my car. I exit my vehicle, don my bulletproof vest, and grab my bag. There are two patrol vehicles with lights on to the side of the station, and I pass a belligerent woman yelling at the entrance door. I enter the waiting area which features metal detectors and no chairs. It’s barren and cold in that way government buildings are. Officers and released inmates pass by, until the officer I will be accompanying walks out.
“You’re the reporter?” he asks.
“Yes, I am – Wid Lyman with Border Hawk.”
He nods his head and indicates I should follow him. We pass the [not] friendly lady who starts yelling anew at our presence, and we make our way to his Dodge Durango patrol SUV. We pile into the front, and he presses the ignition button.
“Let’s hope it starts,” he quips with a wry smile.
“You’re saying it doesn’t start sometimes?”
“We have a 50/50 shot on the first few tries.”
Several presses later and the engine roars to life. He smiles again, and throws the heavy SUV in gear.
“You ready?” he asks with his now classic expression.
“Absolutely,” I respond, although I don’t feel ready at all.
Row is his name, and although he’s a big man, he moves fluidly. Broad in the shoulders, thick hands, and a lantern jaw that would take serious effort to move. The 20-year veteran of the Metropolitan Police Dept. of the District of Columbia (MPDC) and U.S. Navy vet heads down the road to patrol the region.
Washington, D.C. is divided into seven police districts and eight wards. Ward 8, where we will primarily be, is home to roughly 80,000 people and currently does not have a council member. Sitting along the southeastern corner of the city, District 7 is home to Anacostia, Barry Farm, and Bolling AFB. Incorporated in 1854, Anacostia was designated to be affordable for Washington’s working class, many of whom were employed just across the river.
In 2025, with a population of just over 50,000 and an average individual income of around $28,000 per year, shopping, dining, and entertainment facilities in Anacostia are limited.
“We are going to drive in a circle and stop at a few places. Many of the little shops and gas stations get robbed all the time, so we stop in and check on them,” explains Row.
We roll slowly down Barry Ave. and drive along the line that divides the State of Maryland and the District. Anacostia is home to numerous public housing units, including Barry Farm and Anacostia Gardens. The D.C. Housing Authority provides assistance through public housing and voucher programs. District 7 is dominated by endless rows of bunched-together homes, tall apartment complexes, and tight single-family dwellings.
“You see that alley right there? Officers got assaulted there about a week ago,” Row explained, referring to a March 11 incident during which several officers were attacked and four men were arrested. “That’s the McDonald’s where someone was killed, and that 7-Eleven gets robbed all the time. We will stop there.”
We park next to another police vehicle with lights blazing – a tactic called a “High-Visibility Police Presence.” Officers position themselves in high-crime or high-traffic areas as a deterrence to possible offenders.
We check on the owners of the convenience store who report a quiet night so far, and Row snags a fountain drink. After five or six attempts, the Durango starts up, and we return to patrolling.
“We see tons of domestic issues, drug crimes, and crimes of opportunity. Each street has their own little gang, and the drug issue dominates the scene. Mostly PCP and fentanyl,” Row narrates as he passes familiar streets and homes. Dozens of people, mostly men, are wandering about, sleeping on the ground, lying in the bushes, scurrying away from the police cruiser, drinking out of paper bags, and loitering at bus stops.
10:50 p.m. A call comes from another officer requesting back-up. A man called the station to report a body on the ground outside a liquor store. Row pulls up behind the other officer. They approach what appears to be a pile of clothes, but upon closer inspection, they see there’s a man in the pile. His face is covered in vomit, and he is not responding to the officer’s questions. A guy walks by and says he thought the man in the pile of clothes was dead so he called the cops. The officers contact EMS, and we wait for their arrival. Standing on the sidewalk outside of the liquor store, I take stock of where we are. The buildings behind me are all boarded up, and the sidewalk is covered with trash and odd-colored stains. Men are wandering about, scuttling in and out of alleyways. It reminds me of the poor border towns in Mexico. Decaying structures, poor infrastructure, destitute people, and a cloud of sadness hangs in the air. EMS comes and collects the man, who was nearing an overdose.
We get back in the Durango, and after 10 to 12 presses of the ignition button, it comes to life.
CrimeGrade.org rates Anacostia a “D-” overall and an “F” in violent crime. In 2023, Anacostia’s total crime rate was 134% above the national average, 401% higher in violent crime, and 83% higher in property crime. Your chances of being a victim of a crime in Anacostia are a staggering one in 11 in some areas. Anacostia’s crime rate is 38% higher than the rest of D.C. Homicides rose to a stunning 271 in 2023, the most since 1997.
According to a 2013 study conducted by U.S. News and World Report, 89% of the students of Anacostia High School are considered economically disadvantaged, and 86% receive free lunches. Just 17% rated proficient in reading; 12% proficient in math; and almost half of all students function below basic skill levels in these subjects. Only 6.9% of students tested as ready for college.
“Rats are a huge problem in the area. You enter some of these apartments or homes and see huge rats,” Row says as he scans the area and sips his soda.
11:29 p.m. A call comes from dispatch alerting us that officers are responding to a domestic dispute that requires back-up. Row hits the lights, rips a tight U-turn, and heads for one of the apartment complexes. Two other police vehicles are already pulling up and officers start jumping out.
“You ready for this one?” Row asks with a smile.
“100%,” I respond.
We head for the front door – an imposing force of four officers and me in tow. We file through the lobby, catching stares from people in the sitting area, and pile into the elevator.
Row leans over to me and says, “Last week when I was here someone fired a handgun through the floor into someone’s living room.” Once again, I wonder if I have seen my car for the last time. Fortunately, the domestic issue is resolved quickly and without issue, and we head back to the faulty Durango.
We patrol the region, passing other High Visibility Areas, and respond to calls of trespassing, erratic behavior, traffic violations, and rumors of a lone man walking around a neighborhood carrying a rifle.
1:05 a.m. A black Kia fled from officers and rammed into a parked car. Four occupants bailed out, and officers found one person under an abandoned van. The offender proceeded to kick the officer before being arrested. The Kia was stolen, and when Row and I pull up, we see the car is smashed into a large SUV. Officers are searching the area for the other occupants, while the detained suspect is screaming obscenities and proclaiming his innocence.
While officers escort the handcuffed suspect to a waiting transport, he tries to kick Row, who deftly steps out of the way, causing the suspect to fan and lose his balance. Shackles are added to the serial kicker, and he is placed in the car.
“I didn’t know you were an athlete,” I joke to Row. He shrugs his shoulders and smirks. Just another day for him.
We drive past more public housing with dense amounts of trash, people wandering in parking lots, groups of men huddled in alleys and hallways, and obvious signs of decay. I understand Row’s sense of humor. He has to be droll; the immense amount of human suffering, sadness, and hopelessness is overwhelming.
The Anacostia River separates Ward 8 from the rest of D.C., but the ward sits a mere five miles from the White House. You can see the National Monument from most of the ward. It’s shocking to think a rotting third-world environment sits in such close proximity to the epicenter of the global superpower.
The city attempts to improve the area with luxury homes and apartments. The WNBA’s Mystics have their arena there, and the new Anacostia Recreation Center at Ketcham, a $16 million project, is expected to open in summer of 2025.
“When the people were moving into those fancy homes, other people were robbing the work sites and stealing the U-Hauls. The nice apartments don’t last more than a year or so before getting destroyed,” says Row as we pass another complex that looks like even the rats shouldn’t live there.
“There’s actually a pretty good steakhouse in town. The problem is, who wants to come down here for dinner and possibly get robbed or carjacked?” Row states rhetorically, as we ride up a hill towards a church.
Washington, D.C. had 958 carjackings in 2024. Carjackings nearly doubled from 2022 to 2023. In those cases, 77% involved a gun and the vast majority were perpetrated by juveniles. One victim told local media she was carjacked by a boy who looked 10 to 12 years old. She snapped a photo of the young man brandishing a gun as he fled in her vehicle.
“You want to see the best view of the city?” Row asks as the Durango starts making a louder noise. He pulls in to Our Lady of Perpetual Help and swings the SUV around. He wasn’t joking. The U.S. Capitol and National Monument dominate the field of view. It’s incredible. We both sit in silence admiring the vista before descending back down the hill into the wasteland.
1:58 a.m. We head back to the station where, thankfully, my vehicle still sits. I exit the Durango and thank Row for his time and service. He smiles and nods and waits while I enter my car. I speed off, trying to gather my thoughts. I share my experience with a friend who writes back a single word: Entropy.
Entropy is a lack of order or predictability; gradual decline into disorder. Ward 8 is in a state of constant entropy and falling further despite the efforts of the District. In February, the D.C. Council unanimously voted to expel Ward 8 Councilmember Trayon White. He is facing a criminal trial next year on federal bribery charges. At monthly meetings of the Advisory Neighborhood Commission, residents voice concerns about issues, often complaining that drug dealing is happening in plain sight. Abandominiums (abandoned houses that have been turned over to the city because owners have died or taxes have gone unpaid) are frequently taken over by squatters and drug dealers.
Decreases in the number of Metropolitan Police Department officers have been especially severe in Anacostia. Brave officers, like Row, are holding together what little remains of functioning society there.
Entropy.
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