Chief Putney, who was hired by the Police Department in 1992, has spoken numerous times about the 1979 death of his father. According to an article in Charlotte Magazine, his father’s body was pulled from the Roanoke River after what the local Sheriff’s Department declared an accidental drowning. “I thought they did a shoddy job,” he told a writer for the magazine in 2015.  In a profile in The Charlotte Observer, he said the perceived injustice had made him want to be a lawyer. In a speech this summer, Chief Putney said a police officer he later befriended had convinced him that police work was “a noble profession.”  That impassioned five-minute speech, delivered just after a vigilante had killed five law enforcement officers in Dallas on July 7, went viral. It was then that Chief Putney spoke of the racism and bias inherent in American policing, and about his own nervousness, as a black man, about how the police might treat him.  “Because of my distrust of police, even now, when I see blue lights it hits me in the stomach,” he said.  He balanced this with a staunch defense of his profession, one made up of men and women, he said, “who don’t have the luxury to run away when bad things happen.”  He also said he was frustrated by the way a focus on the details of police shootings of minorities could sometimes obscure the bigger picture.  “We hide behind, ‘Well, we don’t know all of the facts,’” he said. “Well, I don’t need to know the facts to see another dead black body in the streets and say, ‘That hurts me.’”  Chief Putney took over the top spot in the department amid an already roiling debate about race and American policing set off by the 2014 fatal police shooting of Michael Brown in Ferguson, Mo. But Charlotte, at the time, had its own explosive police shooting case.  Five weeks after Chief Putney took office, a jury heard opening statements in the trial of Randall Kerrick, a white police officer here who had been charged with voluntary manslaughter for the September 2013 killing of Jonathan Ferrell, an unarmed black man who was shot and killed after he sought help late at night following an auto accident.  After a judge declared a mistrial, which ultimately led to the end of the case, Chief Putney told employees that the decision to charge Officer Kerrick was “painful but necessary.”  But the case had divided the department and the city, and the new chief was left to rebuild internal morale and public confidence.  “The way the Kerrick case was handled left a lot of doubt in the eyes of some of the officers about how supported they were by their command,” said Michael J. Greene, one of Officer Kerrick’s lawyers and a former Mecklenburg County prosecutor.  But Mr. Greene said Chief Putney had eventually won over the rank and file.  “If you’re walking through the courthouse and ask the patrolmen walking around, ‘What do you think of Chief Putney?’ they’re going to say they’re proud to be wearing a C.M.P.D. uniform again,” Mr. Greene said.  He earned the respect of his officers while supporting an effort to have all Police Department employees take classes to recognize “unconscious, implicit bias.” He teamed up with Mr. Corbett, the barber, to help him expand a program he started, called Cops & Barbers, which had sponsored meetings between police officers and young people to help them better understand each other.  Chief Putney, 47, is an imposing man, an accomplished martial artist who stands over six feet tall, with a tendency toward introversion. When he speaks in meetings, associates say, he sticks to the facts and tends to avoid pontificating.  Last week, he seemed by turns annoyed and steadfast as he insisted that Mr. Scott had been shot because he had a gun, and refused to release publicly any of the dashboard or body camera videos recorded before, during and after the shooting of Mr. Scott by Brentley Vinson, a young officer who is also African-American.  The pressure mounted through the week until, on Saturday, he held a news conference and said he had been assured that the distribution of some of the recordings of the shooting would not hamper the state’s inquiry. He denied that public pressure had influenced his decision, an assertion many people here doubted.  Some voices here have praised the chief’s handling of the shooting and its aftermath, though they have been quieter than the protesters.  “It’s a delicate balance between allowing people to vent and keeping the rest of the community safe,” said Kenneth R. Smith III, a member of the City Council who represents some of Charlotte’s wealthiest neighborhoods. He added, “I think he’s struck that very well.”  Some supporters say the uncertainty left by the videos has supported Chief Putney’s case for keeping them private.  “Now you have the whole city trying to draw their own conclusions,” Mr. Corbett said.  Marcus Bass, a 29-year-old Charlotte resident and activist who works with a collective called the Tribe, stopped short of demanding Chief Putney’s resignation, but said his relationships with activists had been “drastically tarnished” by his handling of Mr. Scott’s death.  Mr. Bass said he suspected an “orchestra of voices behind the scenes” were “helping dictate and narrate how this is rolled out.”  He added: “I think there is still a short time where honest dialogue and real discussion can happen. The chief can still do that. But I think that window is closing very fast.”
Caught between defending his officers and regaining the trust of many who claim he has reacted badly to the fatal police shooting of a black man.