One Bad Cop - New York Times
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One Bad Cop - New York Times http://query.nytimes.com/gst/fullpage.html?res=9B00E1D614... October 1, 2000 One Bad Cop By LOU CANNON The case that would eventually spark the most damaging scandal in the history of the Los Angeles Police Department began early on the afternoon of Nov. 26, 1996, when Javier Francisco Ovando was wheeled on a gurney into a downtown courtroom of the Los Angeles County Hall of Justice for a pretrial hearing. ''He was emaciated, frail, such a little man,'' recalled Tamar Toister, the public defender who was assigned his case, one of seven she would have that day. Ovando was charged with assaulting Rafael Perez and Nino Durden, two Los Angeles police officers, with a semiautomatic weapon. Since the Honduran-born Ovando then spoke no English and the Israeli-born Toister didn't speak Spanish, they conversed through an interpreter. But Ovando could barely talk in any language. A month and a half earlier, on Oct. 12, Perez and Durden, the two officers he was accused of assaulting, had shot him in the neck and chest. Through the interpreter, Ovando softly asserted his innocence and said he did not remember much of what happened except that ''bad cops'' had tried to kill him. No one believed Ovando, who had the number 18 tattooed on the back of his neck, signifying membership in the 18th Street Gang, known in Los Angeles for its narcotics dealings and brutal killings. Nor did anyone in the courtroom except Ovando believe that Perez was a bad cop. To those gathered at the hearing, Perez seemed composed and credible as he told how Ovando, brandishing a Tec-22 semiautomatic pistol, had burst into a darkened fourth-floor room of an abandoned apartment building that he and Durden were using as an observation post to monitor gang activity in the street below. According to Perez's account at the hearing, he and Durden had fired first, dropping Ovando with four shots. When backup officers and an ambulance arrived, Ovando was lying in a pool of blood, the weapon beside him. One of the backups later recalled that Perez, who had fired three times, was surprised that the man he had hit was still alive. But this did not trouble the officer at the time. It didn't trouble Perez either. He and his partner were warriors in Rampart, Los Angeles's toughest neighborhood. To officers of the Rampart division of Community Resources Against Street Hoodlums, called by its acronym, Crash, gang members deserved whatever fate awaited them, whether it was death in the crowded communities they had made so dangerous or prison sentences that would keep them behind bars until they were old. At the end of the 25-minute hearing, Ovando, then 19, was ordered to stand trial on seven felony charges. Based solely on what Perez had told them, prosecutors claimed that Ovando was a gang assassin out to kill police officers. Toister, the public defender, did not question the theory. She did, however, question the deal being offered by a deputy of Gil Garcetti, the district attorney, who was waging a publicized war on gangs: 13 years in prison. In Toister's view, that was way too severe. Ovando had no criminal record. He had also been shot four times and was now paralyzed from the waist down. Believing that Ovando had been punished for whatever he did, Toister decided to try the case before a jury. At the time, neither Toister nor anyone else had any inkling that what took place between the two officers and Javier Ovando would grow into the Rampart scandal. It was hard to imagine that an apparently cut-and-dried gang case would lead to the investigation of 70 police officers -- 4 of whom are to go on trial in the next few days -- and the release of 100 prisoners framed by the police. It was even harder to envision that it would result in an astonishing consent decree that for the first time in history will put the fiercely independent L.A.P.D. under the supervision of the federal government. Most inconceivable of all, perhaps, was the fact that the widest, most damaging crisis in the department's history would be brought about by the actions of one crooked police officer: Rafael Perez. Rampart, west of downtown, is a compact warren of dense, dangerous neighborhoods that leads Los Angeles in homicides, narcotics sales and violent crimes. Out-of-town visitors to other poor sections of the city, even South Central, are often surprised to find homes surrounded by tidy lawns and neighborhoods sprinkled with parks and greenery. Such amenities are rare in Rampart, where open space is scarce, crowded high-rises abound and trees do not grow easily. Bounded on the north by Sunset Boulevard, on the west by Normandie Avenue, and on the east and south by freeways, Rampart encompasses only 7.9 square miles but has the highest population density of any urban area west of the Mississippi, officially 36,000 people per square mile. Not included in this count are thousands of illegal immigrants. According to an L.A.P.D. report, ''many of these people speak only Spanish and are not well versed in the customs and laws of the United States. Some have a history of distrust for law enforcement stemming from their perceptions of law enforcement within their home countries. These factors have proven to be a challenge for every new commanding officer assigned to the Rampart area.'' Beginning in the late 1970's, life on the streets in the Rampart area was controlled by more than 60 gangs, often organized along ethnic lines. Amid the gangs from El Salvador, Nicaragua and Guatemala, Javier Ovando's gang, the 18th Street Gang, was notable for its 1 of 8 11/12/08 9:11 AM One Bad Cop - New York Times http://query.nytimes.com/gst/fullpage.html?res=9B00E1D614... brutality and its multiethnic and sometimes interracial membership. The gang terrorized neighborhoods, sold narcotics and rented space to drug dealers. But it also functioned as a haven for jobless Latinos who lived on the streets during the severe recession of the early 90's. This is what brought Ovando into the fold. Ovando said he joined the gang because he was on his own at 16 and without a roof over his head. The gang, he said, became ''mia familia.'' His family. The family Ovando found was at war with crash and the L.A.P.D. Gangs had been a focus of the Los Angeles police since the late 1970's, when violence, sparked by immigration and a bad economy, jumped alarmingly. The department, which traditionally relied on technology and aggressive tactics to compensate for the relatively small numbers available to police a vast area, responded in a multitude of ways. One of its first initiatives was Crash, the elite antigang force. Another was Operation Hammer, the brainchild of Chief Daryl Gates, which rounded up suspected gang members en masse. The L.A.P.D.'s war on gangs soon led to a series of well-publicized controversies. Operation Hammer, already under fire from civil libertarians, was thoroughly discredited in 1988 when its officers destroyed four apartment buildings they mistakenly thought were crack houses. Then, in 1991, came the videotaped beating of Rodney King and the creation of a commission, led by Warren Christopher, that proposed various reforms in the L.A.P.D. In 1992, the officers accused of assaulting King were acquitted by a suburban jury, setting off fearsome riots in which 54 people were killed. The police department was suddenly on the defensive. Chief Gates retired. His successor, Willie Williams, was not reappointed after his first five-year term. Bernard Parks, the third chief in a decade, has been under fire practically since his appointment in 1997. Though sometimes criticized for excesses, Crash survived. Crash officers worked in tough places and were expected to confront violence with violence. Rampart Crash, which varied in size from a dozen officers in winter to as many as 20 in summer, when gang activity peaked, was an especially tight-knit group. Officers gave plaques to comrades who shot gang members. Rampart members wore logos and patches, the most notorious of which was a skull with a cowboy hat and a poker hand of a pair of aces and a pair of eights, the dead-man's hand that the frontier outlaw Wild Bill Hickock was holding when he was shot to death. ''Rampart was home to a bunch of cowboy cops,'' said David Smith, an L.A.P.D. captain who had several encounters with the unit. Rampart Crash became even more independent in 1995 when, because of overcrowding in the main Rampart station house, the unit moved to a substation nearly two miles away. There, the cowboy cops were almost entirely on their own, and they weren't shy about expressing their separateness. While most of the city's Crash officers were required to work in uniform, Rampart Crash members made a point of showing up in street clothes. Captain Smith recounted that when he responded to a call from a Rampart resident who had been roughed up by police officers, he was told to mind his own business. ''There were all sorts of warning signals coming out of Rampart,'' he said. Notable among these was the ''999 key.'' Along with a gun and a badge, every Los Angeles police officer is issued what is known as a 999 key, which allows him access to all the police stations in the city.