Broken Badges: Cases from Police Internal Affairs Files

by Lou Reiter

  “These guys get that specific?”

  “Boss, that’s very common. In LA a motor cop targeted black women driving gypsy cabs, the illegal ones without a medallion. Most of the women were undocumented from Kenya or Nigeria. Several years ago, another California Highway Patrol cop targeted young women with long hair driving compact cars. Others focus on street whores. Some even target victims of domestic violence. You know, console women and seemingly care about their plight and then turn that supposed concern into an intimate relationship. They’re scum and prey on the vulnerable and weak. Figure none of the victims will report them.”

  “Assholes, just hard to believe this shit, Taylor,” Chief Watkins uttered. “So what’s left to do?”

  “I figure I’ll look at the DMV data first. Depending on how many tickets we focus on, I might ask that you and Mike help me make contact with potential victims. That’ll take a day maybe and another day to conduct interviews if the women are willing to talk to us. That’s the biggest problem. Most sexual assault victims are reluctant to come forward. The last victim wouldn’t let me tape her story, but eventually allowed me to take a facial photo and get a swab. After we get that done, I think we need to have a sit down with the DA. Maybe you and me. I’m not hopeful for criminal prosecution. Reluctant victims and issues of credibility often curtail that.”

  “Taylor, I can’t have some sex fiend still on the street. What if he hits again? That could put me directly into a lawsuit, a federal one on top of that!”

  Taylor considered what the chief was saying and had to agree. He knew the chief could put Reynolds on desk duty or send him home on administrative leave with pay, but that might tip his hand. Taylor was banking on a surprise confrontation.

  “Boss, can you get him into a training program this coming week? Maybe a five-day session at the Regional Academy?”

  Taylor looked at Mike Reeves, figuring he would be more up on training schedules.

  Mike thought for a moment and said, “Chief, we’re sending one officer next week for an FTO program. We could add Reynolds. He probably would think it’s a reward.”

  “Okay, let’s do it,” Chief Watkins agreed.

  *****

  Taylor opened the envelope from his friend containing the DMV search data. It tallied there had been 186 computer searches by Reynolds during the month. That was about nine per shift! Not a ball of fire, but not a slacker, either.

  Taylor went down each page and used a yellow highlighter on any search that listed the registered owner with what appeared to be a Hispanic name. Now he had 36 to consider. Some cars were listed to a male, some female, and others to what seemed to be couples. Taylor knew this exercise would undoubtedly lose some possibilities, but felt it was the best way with the resources and time they had. He had no idea what would be the result of this effort. Taylor also knew some names wouldn’t come up with a useable phone number or might be out of date.

  Taylor figured with Chief Watkins and Reeves working with him, each could take twelve searches to try to contact. If time wasn’t such a big issue, letters would have been sent to each, requesting a response. He had gone that route before when the targeted officer was either in jail or on administrative leave. That wasn’t the case here so timing was critical.

  Taylor scribbled a script on a yellow tablet and had the chief’s secretary type it and make 40 copies. One copy would be for the investigative file. Each of them would then be asking questions in a similar manner. It was designed to ensure that the same message was used each time.

  My name is:

  I’m working for the Greenwood Village Police Department.

  We’re conducting a citizen satisfaction survey of persons who may have been contacted by one of our police officers.

  Your car license plate was entered into the DMV system by one of our police officers last month.

  This doesn’t mean you were actually stopped or contacted.

  It could have simply been a check to determine whether your vehicle was stolen.

  Do you recall being stopped by one of our police officers last month?

  Are you the only driver of this vehicle?

  Who else drives this vehicle?

  Would you check with him or her to see whether they had been stopped by one of our police officers?

  If the person answers yes; request an in-person interview.

  If they had no contact, simply thank them for their time.

  It wasn’t the most scientific survey, but it would satisfy Taylor’s objectives for this case. He sat down with Chief Watkins and Mike Reeves and briefed them on the plan. He figured it would take all afternoon to go through all 36 names.

  Taylor found an unused office with a local phone number. He collected a local phone directory as well as a reverse directory listing phone numbers to addresses. He knew calling 411 would probably happen a few times. He also figured he could use Google to search, if necessary. In the first two hours he was able to make contact with four names on his list. None recalled any contact.

  He dialed the number for Raul and Gladys Esperanza. A woman answered. Taylor went through the script easily. The woman seemed perplexed by the inquiry. She lived over 30 miles from Greenwood Village. Mrs. Esperanza claimed she was the person who drove this vehicle and had no recollection of coming anywhere near the Village. When Taylor asked whether anyone else ever drove the vehicle, she hesitated for a moment and then said she was the principle driver. Taylor asked her to think a little more about that and gave her the chief’s phone number and his cell number to call should she remember anyone else driving the car in the past month.

  Taylor finished the remaining registered owners on his list without any new developments. Captain Reeves found nothing in his search. Chief Watkins, however, said two of his contacts were considering whether they would share thoughts about the contact.

  *****

  “Sterling, here.” Taylor answered as his cell phone rang.

  “Officer Sterling?” the woman asked. Taylor didn’t bother to correct her. “We talked yesterday. This is Gladys Esperanza.”

  “Oh, yes, I recall.”

  “After we talked I thought about our conversation. I remembered an incident a couple weeks ago. My daughter, Sylvia, she’s 16, occasionally drives my car. I really didn’t think about it when you called. But, then I remembered a night a couple weeks ago when Sylvia came home later than her curfew. That’s normally midnight. I must have fallen asleep close to one in the morning so I’m not sure exactly when she got home that night. My husband and I scolded her severely and grounded her use of the car for a month.”

  “And there’s something more?” Taylor asked.

  “Yes. I confronted her again yesterday after your call. I began to ask more pointed, direct questions. I could tell she was lying to me. I told her that if she didn’t tell me the truth, the grounding would be for six months. She suddenly began to cry. I knew something was wrong. We sat silently for several minutes. Finally she opened up and told me a horrid, vile story.”

  “She encountered a police officer?” Taylor interjected.

  “Yes.”

  “And he did what?”

  “Horrible things. Despicable things.”

  “Mrs. Esperanza, that was my real motive for calling. We’re investigating one of our officers for improper conduct. What can you tell me about your daughter’s incident?”

  “It happened about two in the morning. Sylvia was with two friends when the officer pulled her over. Apparently she had been drinking. I don’t know how a sixteen year old gets into those clubs to drink. The officer asked her to produce her driver’s license. He then had her get out of the car and walked her back to his police car. He told her he had to check her story out. When he opened the back door, Sylvia said he grabbed her by her shoulders and moved her back against his body, holding her there so she couldn’t move. He told her to get into the back seat and closed the door. The officer got into the front seat.

  “Sylvia was so
scared she wasn’t able to hear what he was saying over the radio. He turned back to her and shined his flashlight over her body. He asked what country she was from and said he knew she was probably illegal. Sylvia has been here for 14 years, Officer Sterling. She was only two when Raul and I came here from Honduras. My husband has a business. No one has ever questioned his status. He never thought about it. When we got married eight years ago, he assumed that made him and Sylvia legal. You know, with me being an American citizen.”

  “Mrs. Esperanza, I’m not with Immigration. This has nothing to do with your husband’s or Sylvia’s status. Please don’t worry about that. Please continue with what Sylvia told you.”

  “Sylvia became very scared by what the officer was saying. She even tried to open the door and found it was locked. The officer told her that she was a very pretty little Latin lady. I think that’s exactly what he said. Maybe Latin girl. And he continued to use her name when he spoke to her. By now my Sylvia was crying. The officer told her he wouldn’t hurt her or take her in if she cooperated.” Mrs. Esperanza began to sob and her words tangled in her mouth.

  “He made her expose herself! It must have been horrible. It must have been so frightening for her!”

  “I know this is hard for you, but how did he make her expose herself?”

  “He made her pull her jeans and underpants down and then ordered her to masturbate. He watched her! He just sat there and watched her! He continued to shine his light on her! He was horrible!”

  “Did he do anything else? Did he do anything to the others in your car?”

  “You know, I don’t know. I was in shock. Sylvia was nearly hysterical when she told me about it. We just sat and hugged for a long time. I haven’t told any of this to Raul. He would kill the officer. He would get into trouble, I know it.”

  “Mrs. Esperanza, I know this is very difficult for you and Sylvia. I really need to ask Sylvia very important questions. I promise I won’t go into any details you’ve told me. I know they’re so intimate. But, there are significant questions I would like to ask her.”

  Taylor could almost hear her pondering his request. With a sigh, she said she would talk with her daughter and call me back.

  *****

  Taylor got a callback from Mrs. Esperanza within the hour. She said Sylvia would meet with Taylor after school at their home, but warned her daughter would not speak without her being present. Taylor stopped by Chief Watkins’ office just before leaving.

  “Boss, how you coming with the females who said they might be willing to talk?”

  “Got a call from one of them. She’s still real reluctant. She’s from Nicaragua. I’m figuring she’s not legal since she mentioned Immigration several times. I kept telling her we’re not Immigration, but she’s still real shaky.” The chief threw up his hands in a display of resignation.

  “It’s tough, boss. But she might be another key to making our case against Reynolds. He’s scum and we need to nail him good.”

  Taylor made it to the Esperanza house at the suggested 3:30 time slot. Mrs. Esperanza was adamant the meeting had to be held when her husband wasn’t home. She was extremely concerned he might fly off and do something rash.

  Sylvia was waiting in the family room. Sylvia was a very slight woman and was wearing black leggings and a peasant top dropping to her thighs. Her flowing pitch-black hair accentuated her creamy brown complexion. She was quite attractive, Taylor thought. Sylvia was sitting on a flowered couch with her legs curled under her.

  “Sylvia, thank you for allowing me to follow-up on the information you gave to your mother. I promise I won’t retrace those events. I’m sure they were very unpleasant for you. Even recounting them for your mother must have been difficult. I won’t go there, I promise.”

  Mrs. Esperanza spoke up, “Officer Sterling, I want to ask you a question before you start. I’ve always thought that when I married Sylvia’s father, she would automatically become a U.S. citizen because I’m one. Isn’t that correct?”

  Taylor knew that was not correct, but he didn’t want that admission to get in the way of his investigation. “I really don’t know the legal answer to that question, Mrs. Esperanza. Sylvia’s immigration status isn’t an issue with me or the police department. I really think you should consult with an attorney who practices in the immigration field. It’s gotten real sticky during these past several years.” She nodded reluctantly. Taylor knew this wasn’t the answer she wanted to hear.

  Once again Taylor pulled out the group of photographs of departmental officers and placed them on the coffee table in front of Sylvia. “Can you identify the officer who stopped you?”

  Sylvia methodically pulled each photograph from the pile and stared at it. She made two piles, just like Anita had done. Then she returned to the smaller pile and carefully studied each image. She lingered over Officer Reynolds’ photograph before throwing it into the larger pile.

  “I’m sorry, I can’t. Most of the time he had his flashlight shining on me and all I could see was the light and a dark silhouette. I also had my eyes closed a lot during the bad part.”

  “Sylvia, your mother said you were with two friends? Did the officer do anything to them?”

  “No, he never went back to my car after he got me in the police car.”

  “What ethnicity are your friends? I won’t ask for their names.”

  “Ethnicity?”

  “Color?”

  “Oh, color. One is white with blond hair. The other is black. I guess African American is the proper term. They are my best friends. I told them about what happened and they helped me that night. We all cried. They wanted me to tell my folks and immediately go to the police. They think I’ve lived here all my life. I don’t think they know I’m not here legally; it’s never been an issue.”

  “Your mother said the officer referred to you as a pretty Latin lady or girl? Did he say anything else along those lines?”

  “Well, he really said I was a pretty little Latin girl. That’s what he said!” Sylvia suddenly became quiet and closed her eyes.

  “Yeah, I remember something else like that he said.” She dropped her eyes to her hands clasped tightly in her lap. Tears pooled in her eyes. She closed her eyes and whispered, “He had me pull up my blouse and told me that I had ‘those pretty little Latin titties!’” She began to sob and Mrs. Esperanza rushed to put her arms around her young daughter’s shoulders.

  “Could you see anything the officer was doing?”

  “He was moving. I saw his shoulder and arm moving. I think he was jacking off.” Sylvia smirked and then bolted off the couch as her eyes grew large. “I heard a sound. Oh, God. I think he took my picture! It was the same sound my iPhone makes. He took a picture of me like that! God, it could end up on the Internet. Oh, God!”

  Taylor asked Mrs. Esperanza if she had a recent photograph of Sylvia for his file. They both agreed to let him take a digital photo of her face when none could be located.

  “I’m very sorry this has happened to you, Sylvia. We are going to get this officer. I hate these cases. But, strong women like you are the keys to getting back at these perverts. I can’t thank you enough. You’ve been very brave. Your mother is strong, too. She can help you. I know you’ll be able to put most of this behind you in time. Thank you both very much for your strength and courage.”

  Taylor let himself out as the two women sat on the couch embracing each other. Both were crying now. He could see their bodies shaking with sobs. He felt as comfortable as he could under such terrible circumstances and hoped this mother and daughter would work things out and survive, eventually.

  *****

  Taylor returned to the Greenwood Village police station to brief Chief Watkins on the Esperanza incident. As he walked in, the chief told him his DMV subject had called back and was willing to meet.

  “Do you want to come along, boss?”

  “You don’t think that might create a problem? Me being the Chief of Police and all? This is reall
y new territory for me, you know,” Chief Watkins sighed.

  “About time you got connected, don’t you think? But you probably ought to change into soft clothes. The uniform might be intimidating.”

  The female asked to meet at the restaurant where she worked evenings. She said her boss had agreed to let her use his office. The Neighborhood Diner was just outside the Village city limits, overlooking the regional park. It was four in the afternoon, an hour before the evening rush would crowd the small establishment.

  Like the other two women, this victim was a small, slender woman, obviously of Latin descent. Again her dark brown hair beautifully accented her deep complexion. She was already wearing her waitress uniform, ready for the nightly deluge. She shook hands with little strength in her grasp and Taylor observed she was avoiding direct eye contact with him or Chief Watkins. In the office, she quickly went to stand at the chair behind the desk, giving her a protective barrier. Taylor believed it would be best to forego his “quality control” ruse and be direct and honest about why they were there to interview her. She was adamant the interview could not be taped, just as Chief Watkins had predicted. Again, Immigration was the issue.

  “Ms? What would you like us to call you? We are not with Immigration and don’t report, and will not report to them,” Taylor said to allay her concerns.

  “Iberra. Rose Iberra. Rose, okay. I from Nicaragua. I work at daycare during day and here at night. I hope to bring my son to U.S. and save money. But, I always worry about El Migre. But officer do bad to me. Frighten me. I worry about him finding me again. He do bad things to me,” she recited in a matter of fact manner. As did the others, Rose kept looking at her hands clasped in her lap.

  Taylor knew this interview would be different than the others. Between Rose’s struggle with English and her reticence, it would have to be a leading interview designed to draw each salient point from her. Taylor pulled out the package of officer photos and laid them on the desk.

  “Can you pick out the officer who did this to you?”