Where anti-Semitism gets reported, Tova (Chatzinoff) Rosenfeld, head of the ADL’s Brooklyn office, gets moving

As told to Shoshana Gross

As head of the Anti-Defamation League (ADL)’s Brooklyn office, Tova (Chatzinoff) Rosenfeld is a bridge between the frum community and the institutions meant to protect us

I grew up in the Five Towns, the daughter of a shul rabbi. When faced with a big decision, I’ve always spoken to my father to ask for his advice. His typical response, the catalyst to much of the direction my life’s taken? “That sounds like an interesting experience. You should try it.”

My father’s let-you-take-your-chances approach (and my mother’s willingness to go along with it!), was the rock-solid support that led me, as an aspiring teenager who was “into” politics, to apply for a summer internship in a local politician’s office — not the typical summer plan for most of my friends.

So when I saw an ad saying the NYPD was looking for auxiliary police volunteers, I applied. The application process wasn’t rigorous, and it was definitely, as my father agreed, “an interesting experience.” Auxiliary officers are a support force for the regular police, extra manpower available for visibility, crowd control, and at events. We had some classes on the nuances of certain laws, self-defense, and some interesting storytelling sessions with retired officers.

The precinct I worked in was a high-crime area, and because most people can’t tell the difference between a regular officer and an auxiliary, the presence of the distinctive uniform causes would-be criminals to think twice about breaking the law, freeing up real cops to respond to more urgent calls.

Because I only wore skirts, and there’s a safety issue with that, I wasn’t allowed to do regular patrol duties. Instead, I worked with the vice squad as an undercover agent. I’d enter small local stores or restaurants, and try to buy cigarettes or alcohol to see if I’d get carded or not. For that, I could wear anything.

I vividly remember entering a restaurant with a mixture of excitement and nerves, having prepped beforehand with an older detective.

The only problem? I had no idea how ordering alcohol actually worked.

I ordered a beer, and when the waiter asked if I wanted a glass or a bottle, I panicked and said, “A glass.” (Afterward, they told me I should have said “a bottle” because I would then have had the bottle for evidence. I remember thinking, “Well, thanks for telling me. I’ve never ordered a beer before!”)

After I ordered, I pretended I had to make a phone call, and left — and that was when the rest of the force closed in. What was supposed to result in a fine quickly became more serious when they ran the waiter’s ID and saw there was an outstanding arrest warrant for him.

I was whisked into an unmarked car and brought into the precinct through the back entrance so the newly identified criminal wouldn’t see me. They told me I might have to testify in court, though in the end I didn’t. But I was shaken, and that was the last time I did undercover work (although I continued with the crowd control and event parts). I was a little too nervous after that.