💰 Off budget | Morning Newsletter

Welcome to a new week. Our top story today digs into off-budget purchases made by the Philly Sheriff’s Office, from a new mascot’s costume to event expenses, which have sparked accountability concerns.

Plus, Mayor Cherelle L. Parker’s Kensington plan is part of a broader shift on crime and drug policy in Democrat-led cities.

Here’s what you need to know on this sunny Earth Day.

— Julie Zeglen (@juliezeglen, morningnewsletter@inquirer.com)

If someone forwarded you this email, sign up for free here.

The Philadelphia Sheriff’s Office is tasked with auctioning property, serving warrants, transporting inmates, and providing court security. Its expenses are meant to be covered by a budget allocated by the mayor and City Council.

Yet an Inquirer investigation tracked nearly $2 million in discretionary purchases paid for with checks from a sheriff-controlled bank account containing public money, and lacking city oversight. That includes $9,250 for a new office mascot’s costume (“Deputy Sheriff Justice”), promotional items such as Sheriff Rochelle Bilal trading cards, catering bills, and expenses related to a pop-up health-care clinic.

Why is this behavior concerning? It goes back to one of the earliest tenets of American democracy, policy experts told The Inquirer.

“Generally, the body that spends the money should not be the body that’s collecting the money,” one said. “You want checks and balances to make sure the moneys go to where they need to go.”

Reporters William Bender and Ryan Briggs dig into the long-beleaguered office’s discretionary spending.

It’s not just Philadelphia.

Mayor Cherelle L. Parker’s plan to reduce crime in the city’s opioid-crisis epicenter, Kensington, is a stark departure from that of her predecessors, as she asks police to arrest people for low-level offenses and ends funding for some harm reduction services.

But her emphasis on law enforcement is in line with other blue cities such as New York, San Francisco, and D.C. (Recall that the NYC subway system recently got the National Guard deployment Parker has previously proposed.)

Reporter Anna Orso explains how the Parker administration fits into a national shift, amid strong disagreement over the impact of taking a harder line.

The Frankford Yellow Jackets team is the predecessor of which Philadelphia sports team?

A) Eagles

B) Sixers

C) Union

D) Flyers

Think you know? Check your answer.

🍕 Inspired by: The story of a Wings player who donated bone marrow and saved a stranger’s life (thanks in part to free ‘za).

⚾ Laughing about: Your Phillies uniform sponsorship ideas.

🐍 Avoiding: The entire state of New Jersey so we don’t stumble upon a queen snake, which just emerged for the first time in half a century.

This local pop punk band got name-dropped on Berks County native Taylor Swift’s new album.

Hint: 🏁

ATHENS LITTERING

Email us if you know the answer. We’ll select a reader at random to shout out here. Cheers to Bob Wahlquist, who solved Sunday’s anagram: Glen Macnow. After 31 years, the Philly sports talker and 94.1 WIP host is walking away from the microphone.

📬 Think back to the night that changed your life that could only happen in Philly, a true example of the Philly spirit, the time you finally felt like you belonged in Philly if you’re not a lifer, or something that made you fall in love with Philly over again — or proud to be from here if you are. Then email it to us for a chance to be featured in the Monday edition of this newsletter.

This “only in Philly” story comes from Inquirer health reporter Aubrey Whelan, who describes her unfortunate familiarity with “the hottest club in Philly”:

You can’t truly say you live in Philadelphia until you’ve been courtesy towed. This is something I tell myself because I have to believe that my suffering at the hands of this citywide tradition must mean something.

For those blissfully unfamiliar, the courtesy tow is that thing where the Streets Department or a construction company is performing some kind of task on your block that requires your parking spot, and they just ... take your car away. Sometimes there are signs warning you of the potential of a courtesy tow; sometimes there are not. Technically, whoever tows your car has to tell the police where they put it, but frequently this does not happen, and you are left to shamble, panicked, in increasingly wide circles around your house until you come upon your car by chance.

Does reading that paragraph make you feel insane? Imagine, then, the reality-bending nightmare visited upon the victim of a courtesy tow. I have been courtesy towed from my South Philly neighborhood three times, a sentence that enrages me every time I type it.

I wish I could say that waiting in line [to get my car back at the PPA lot] with dozens of other hapless souls, squinting into the setting sun of a late August evening as it sank behind the rowhouses, became some sort of bonding experience where I learned and grew and changed and ultimately understood my fellow Philadelphians better. The hottest club in Philly is the Weccacoe Avenue tow lot! But everyone was mostly just angry. I came home hungry and annoyed and $300 lighter and ready to perform a blood sacrifice for a parking spot.

Could I avoid this problem by moving to a house with a driveway? Yes. Would that also require me to probably leave South Philly? Also yes, and that’s something I hope I never do. I suppose there’s value in learning that you love your neighborhood enough to endure the unique derangement of multiple courtesy tows, an experience that would probably break brains in lesser cities. It would be nice to get my $300 back, though.

(Psst, Aubrey cowrites The Inquirer’s new Philly Health Insider newsletter dedicated to the region’s eds and meds sector. Check out the latest edition and subscribe to see it every Wednesday.)

Wishing you a wonderful week. I’ll be back in your inbox tomorrow!

By submitting your written, visual, and/or audio contributions, you agree to The Inquirer’s Terms of Use, including the grant of rights in Section 10.