On Feb. 28 at The Signal, the lights will dim and Chattanooga’s version of “Dancing with the Stars” will begin.
Local business leaders, public figures and community members will step into choreography they’ve rehearsed for weeks. There will be competition and celebration.
But beneath the sequins and stage lights will be something more serious.
This year, “Dancing with the Chattanooga Stars” names NAMI Chattanooga as its nonprofit beneficiary for the first time. The proceeds will support mental health education, peer support and advocacy programs – and help sustain one of the city’s most transformative public safety initiatives.
What happens on that stage will connect directly to what happens when someone calls 911 during a mental health crisis.
Caregiving in crisis
For NAMI board member BrendaJean Adamson, that connection is personal.
Adamson joined a NAMI family support group after a loved one experienced a mental health crisis, attending sessions on Zoom led by an instructor who had experience as a caregiver. Participants walked through different mental illnesses, discussed warning signs and practiced role-playing conversations.
“I felt heard and supported,” Adamson says. “I loved it.”
Before that class, Adamson says she didn’t always know how to recognize when someone was becoming delusional or entering psychosis, and certain situations could trigger a crisis, escalating what might have been a simple conversation into conflict.
“If you’re not accustomed to seeing someone in crisis, you might be talking with them without seeing what’s happening,” she says. “Then the interaction can become argumentative.”
Over time, Adamson learned how to de-escalate tense situations and that she could request a Crisis Intervention Team officer if she ever needed to call police.
NAMI Chattanooga supports that training.
“If your loved one is having a mental health crisis and you need to call the police, you can request a CIT-trained officer,” Adamson says. “The Chattanooga Police Department has several.”
Adamson has been in a situation where she had to advocate for someone in crisis while that person was physically combative.
“It was frightening, so having the right information and the ability to say, ‘I need a CIT-trained officer,’ was invaluable.”
Because of NAMI, Adamson says, she’s a better caregiver and more aware of her resources. She’s now training to work on the organization’s hotline.
She remembers calling during her loved one’s first crisis and asking, “What do I do?”
“The person who answered talked with me, shared resources and held space for me to be heard,” Adamson says. “They shared their lived experience and helped me understand my options.”
NAMI Chattanooga provides family support groups, peer support groups and education programs. It recently launched Sharing Hope, a new initiative written specifically for the Black and brown community.
“We did our kickoff this month at Eastlake Community Center,” Adamson says. “For three Thursdays in a row, the Black and brown community can come together and talk about mental illness, mental wellness, if they have a loved one they’re caring for and if they’re struggling themselves.”
She says these communities are often underserved.
“The Black and brown community needs that exposure, just like any other community,” she says. “And we’re less served in that area.”
When 911 becomes a mental health call
The throughline in all of NAMI’s programs is education – learning how to recognize crisis, how to respond and how to connect to help. For Officer Brandon Watson, that same philosophy applies to law enforcement.
Watson is one of three full-time crisis intervention officers with the Chattanooga Police Department and serves as senior officer for the Crisis Co-Response Unit. He helped launch the pilot program in 2021 under a grant from the Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration through Volunteer Behavioral Health.
Today, the unit is fully city-funded and data-driven.
The unit operates under a co-response model that pairs a CIT-trained officer with a master’s-level licensed clinical social worker. On designated shifts, they respond together to mental health-related calls, arriving not just with authority but also clinical expertise.
The clinician conducts on-scene assessments, offers therapeutic intervention and helps connect individuals to community resources, while the officer ensures safety and guides the encounter with de-escalation at the forefront. Together, they address both the immediate crisis and the underlying needs driving it.
The goal is simple but profound: resolve crises safely at home whenever possible and reduce unnecessary arrests or hospitalizations.
“When we talk about active listening and approaching a citizen who’s experiencing a mental health crisis, we’re able to slow things down and listen without judgment,” Watson says.
“It’s not even just, ‘I want to fix you,’ it’s, ‘I want to understand where you’re coming from.’ That active listening piece is huge, not only during an active crisis but also with someone who’s having the worst day of their life and suddenly the cops are standing in their house.”
Originally, Watson worked 10-hour patrol shifts and eight-hour co-response shifts as the pilot took shape. But as the CPD tracked and analyzed mental health calls and identified peak times, the unit shifted to staggered 10-hour shifts aligned with call volume.
At first, the program focused on relieving patrol units, achieving roughly a 5:1 relief ratio. Over time, however, it not only eased the burden on officers but also reshaped how they approached calls involving people in crisis.
“I don’t think there’s a clear distinction between being the police and helping someone,” Watson says. “Police are there to help, whether it’s responding to one of the worst car crashes you could ever see or dealing with a 12-year-old not doing their homework. That’s part of the job.
“If a crime has occurred, we handle it the way we’re sworn to. But in most cases, we don’t have to go that route. A lot of times, someone is just having a bad day, and we can work with them before it ever gets to that point.”
Even when arrest is required, the CIT philosophy continues.
“When someone meets the probable cause threshold, we can still advocate for them,” Watson says. “We can connect them to mental health court, veterans court or drug court. That reduces the recidivism rate – that revolving door. That was a turning point for us because we realized we weren’t just responding to crisis, we were changing outcomes.”
The CPD’s CIT unit now serves as a bridge to behavioral health providers, substance abuse treatment, housing resources and crisis services. It also coordinates with hospitals and builds wraparound plans.
Watson began policing during COVID, when many community resources shut down.
“We had to figure things out in real time,” he says. “That’s when you realize how critical it is to have officers trained to validate someone and de-escalate when there are no other options available.”
Training is central to that work.
The CPD is making its 40-hour CIT certification course free to participating agencies and open to law enforcement, EMTs, dispatchers, VA police and social workers.
NAMI supports the effort by backing and approving the curriculum and helping fund it through events like “Dancing with the Chattanooga Stars.”
“NAMI Chattanooga has been our biggest supporter,” Watson says. “They vet what we’re doing and share their stories at the end of our 40-hour certification course to remind officers why this work matters. They also feed us, fund us and keep the training free for participating agencies. Without their backing, I don’t know where we’d be.”
Changing police culture
Regional law enforcement agencies, both within and beyond Hamilton County, also attend the CPD’s CIT training in hopes of replicating the model. But for Watson, the program’s influence extends beyond logistics and replication to represent a cultural shift in policing itself.
“I came up in that military mindset of, ‘Don’t talk about it. Don’t communicate it. Nothing’s wrong,’” Watson says. “That was the culture; you sucked it up and moved on. What CIT has done is help officers move past their biases and understand that empathy and tone set the pace for everything. We’re bringing back the lost art of communication.”
Families notice the difference.
“We’ve had parents stop us in court,” Watson says. “We’ve received emails through public affairs. I even had someone message me years later, out of the blue, just to say thank you. Not many officers get to hear that kind of feedback after the fact. That’s the best part - knowing you were on the front end of something that could have gone differently.”
Watson’s goal is clear.
“I want us to have the best possible crisis intervention program we can provide for this city,” he says. “I want it to be the shining example for other agencies. And when they come ask how we did it, we’ll be happy to share.”