Do SoCal Cops Shoot First,
Lie Later?
"In both cases, the key question was: 'Were the cops
telling the truth?'" says Sayre, the onetime head of the local Hispanic
Bar Association. "And in both cases, juries concluded the cops weren't
being honest. The officers had been willing to lie under oath."
It wasn't long ago that police in Orange County enjoyed
reputations for honesty, as virtuous heroes. However, in the past decade, we've
seen cops rape women, molest boys, steal cocaine from evidence lockers,
perpetrate domestic violence, falsify official reports, assault handcuffed
suspects, lie on the witness stand, knowingly arrest innocent people, party
with organized-crime figures, accept bribes and destroy evidence. Last month, a
jury convicted an LAPD detective of committing a sadistic murder.
With Orange County residents alarmed over the savage
killing of Kelly Thomas by Fullerton police last July and awaiting trials of
two involved cops, questions about police credibility will remain a hot topic
for the foreseeable future. Yet, for most of us, police corruption still isn't
tangible. That's not true for Anaheim's Ernest Raymond Rodriguez, one of
Sayre's clients.
In May 2009, Rodriguez foolishly lost his temper and
broke a Belmont Shore shop window near Legends Sports Bar. Confronted by the
bar's bouncers, Rodriguez agreed to stay until cops arrived. Jonathan A.
Steinhauser, a culinary host turned Long Beach cop, didn't believe Rodriguez
adequately complied with his commands and struck him with a baton. The man put
up his arms to protect himself and gained control of the weapon. The cop pulled
out his Glock handgun and fired three bullets that incredibly put nine holes in
Rodriguez.
"Thankfully, all the shots missed vital
organs," Sayre says.
Police can legally use deadly force to defend themselves
from real threats. To justify the shooting, Steinhauser claimed Rodriguez
approached him while holding the baton as though it were "a baseball
bat," a stance the cop saw as a potential fatal threat. (Note regarding
the Thomas killing: Steinhauser testified that cops strike a suspect's torso to
gain compliance or the head to inflict lethal damage; Fullerton cops targeted
Thomas' head.)
"The way [Rodriguez] was holding the baton was up
around the shoulder area, high enough that it would have been at my head
level," the cop explained to Sayre during a deposition for a civil lawsuit
against the city of Long Beach. "[The baton] was moving forward. . . . [I
fired] three shots in rapid succession. . . . After the third shot, he fell to
the ground and didn't pose a threat to me."
But five eyewitnesses, including ex-U.S. Marine David
Irizarry, dispute the cop's tale. According to Irizarry, Rodriguez never moved
toward Steinhauser or held the baton in a threatening way. In fact, Irizarry
saw the man toss the baton over his shoulder. He testified that Rodriguez then
stood still with his arms up and, to show his hands were empty, held his palms
open to Steinhauser. Irizarry said that's when the cop began unnecessarily
shooting.
"I was looking at Mr. Rodriguez when he tossed the
baton behind him, and then I just heard shots," he testified.
Irizarry became Sayre's star witness at the 2011 trial,
which ended in Rodriguez's favor. Last month, U.S. District Court Judge David
O. Carter upheld the verdict. He also ordered Long Beach to pay about $280,000
in damages and legal costs, including Sayre's $700-per-hour fee.
Sayre's other recent victory over police brutality began
with a Nov. 5, 2009, LAPD-surveillance operation on a San Pedro residence in a
heavily Latino neighborhood. Despite not seeing any drugs, the officers—Alan
Coleman and Dana Lovato—weaved together three observations they thought
justified a raid: a male stood in the front-yard area; during a 12-minute
period, two vehicles drove up, stopped and talked to the man before driving
away; and a young man riding a skateboard passed their observation point,
politely said, "Hey," and then stopped briefly near the house under
surveillance.
"I'd been discovered," Coleman asserted later
in a sworn deposition. "This was, from my observation, narco
activity."
In reality, the observations alone—a man standing in a
front yard, two briefly stopping vehicles and a friendly skateboarder—meant
zilch. It wasn't suspicious that Enrique Hernandez stood in front of that
residence because he lived there with his parents. In fact, he wasn't alone
outside. But the other people weren't drug dealers, either. They included
Hernandez's two best, lifelong friends: 19-year-old restaurant banquet server
Gustavo Dorado and 18-year-old Damian Ramirez, a trade-school student.
The cops thought they'd entered the neighborhood
undetected. They were clueless that Hernandez and his friends saw them hiding.
Because they'd been doing nothing illegal, the men were equally clueless they
were the ones being watched. "I guess, in a way, we were being nosy to see
what happened [to bring the police]," Dorado later recalled. "[We
thought] they were looking for somebody."
When officers approached, the young men didn't flee. The
cops began questioning and heard someone say, "Do you want me to get down
from the tree?"
The question posed by Ramirez, who was sitting on a
wooden plank about midway up a nearby 8-foot tree, startled the cops. There was
nothing nefarious about the makeshift treehouse. Years earlier, as little boys,
the three friends placed the plank between branches and used it as a perch when
they played.
According to the police records, the officers managed the
"threatening" scene with textbook skill and without the use of any
force. After Ramirez left the tree, officers handcuffed and eventually released
the three men when searches found no drugs or weapons. But the police version
wasn't truthful.
Witnesses saw the 6-foot-2, 240-pound Coleman tackle the
135-pound Ramirez, throw as many as six punches to his body and knee him in his
rib cage at least twice, according to court records. The force punctured the
teenager's lungs, required two hospitalizations, as well as surgery, and will
forever prevent him from swimming or playing sports again.
In the aftermath, Coleman adamantly denied beating
Ramirez, but he claimed he had justification to feel threatened. Sayre asked
the officer during a deposition to explain. Coleman said Ramirez asserted he
had constitutional rights from police abuse when he was placed in handcuffs.
According to a deposition transcript, Sayre asked the
cop, "If a citizen says to you, 'I have rights,' you consider that
aggressive behavior?"
Here's the answer that demonstrates how warped some
Southern California cops have become: "An officer could take that as an
aggression," a straight-faced Coleman replied.
Last month, the officer's assertions didn't impress a
jury as credible. It sided with Sayre. Police could now pay more than $585,000
for the abuse.
For Ramirez—now a grocery clerk—Coleman's assault altered
his life.
"I don't feel safe," he testified. "I
don't think I will ever be able to trust the police anymore."
Had enough? Write to the Speaker of the House, U.S. House of Representatives, Washington, DC 20515 and demand federal
hearings into the police problem in America.
Demand mandatory body cameras for cops, one strike rule on abuse, and a
permanent DOJ office on Police
Misconduct.
