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Paul Ferris talks to BBC News Online
"You'll never eradicate (police) corruption, just as you'll never eradicate crime."

The TRUTH is out there...........

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ferrisconspiracy : UPDATE

Call for guidelines on police who have a criminal record 

SENIOR police chiefs were urged last night to reassure the public by establishing new guidelines to cover officers with criminal convictions.

As revealed in The Scotsman yesterday, at least 158 serving officers have convictions ranging from assault and drink-driving to very serious offences such as attempting to pervert the course of justice

Opposition politicians said something had to be done to differentiate between relatively minor cases - such as a long-serving officer who picked up a driving offence as a teenager - and serious offences.

The conviction figures, obtained under the Freedom of Information Act, revealed that six of Scotland's eight forces employ officers convicted of criminal offences, including inspectors and sergeants.

The Association of Chief Police Officers in Scotland (ACPOS) is already drawing up a set of national vetting rules that is already drawing up a set of national vetting rules that is likely to list convictions which will automatically bar someone from joining the force.

Kenny MacAskill, the SNP's justice spokesman, said it was right that chief constables, and not politicians, were in charge of the review, but he urged them to take action soon.

He said: "It is an operational matter and [political] interference would be wrong. However, the number is obviously a matter for public concern and the figures have been startling. It needs borne in mind that this is a very small percentage, even if the numbers are far higher than would have been anticipated."

He went on: "Public confidence in the police, though, is essential.

Allowing a second chance to a conviction that was a result of a youthful indiscretion is one thing, as is a minor road traffic or other offence where there are clear mitigating circumstances and an otherwise exemplary record of service. However, offences of dishonesty and other serious matters are not.

"There needs to be some uniformity throughout Scotland. It would be highly inappropriate for a crime to be acceptable in one force area but not in others. It essential, therefore, that ACPOS clarify those guidelines and detail them to reassure the public."

Annabel Goldie, the leader of the Scottish Tories, said: "I have confidence in individual chief constables to have sensible protocols in place to deal with the issue. This is not a matter where there can be hard and fast rules, but clearly there has to be flexibility to enable the nature and circumstances of each conviction to be taken into account."

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Pc suspended over lawn mower row


A police officer faces disciplinary action after being convicted of causing a breach of the peace for leaving a lawn mower running to annoy neighbours.

Pc Alistair Edgar, 54, and his wife were upset by their new Brighton neighbours' renovations, magistrates in Worthing, West Sussex heard.

The court heard Edgar then ran a "loud, high-pitched" lawn mower for hours while leaving it against a wall.

The Pc has been suspended while Sussex Police decide on further action.

The court ruled that if Edgar, a constable in Brighton with more than 30 years service, breaches the peace again within 12 months he will be fined £300.

"At its worst it felt like living in the middle of a runway at Heathrow" Sophie Fox

A police spokesman said: "He is suspended and now it remains to be seen whether there is any internal disciplinary matter to be taken by the professional standards department."

Tony Stanford, defending Mr Edgar, said his client had resorted to his electric mower "out of pure exasperation" and his career could now be affected.

Sour relationship

Relations between the neighbours turned sour when Christopher and Sophie Fox moved to next door to the Edgars in Brighton, East Sussex in 2003.

Mr Fox said: "We got letters from him and his solicitor saying we could not do certain things with the driveway while we were having the lawn replaced."

Sophie Fox said the confrontations had had a deep impact on the family.

"At its worst it felt like living in the middle of a runway at Heathrow. We couldn't use our garden at all."

"He would turn the lawn mower off as soon as we went out," she added.

Filmed confrontations

The Foxes set up a camera to record confrontations with the Edgars, recording eight hours of footage which they gave to police.

Both the Edgars were originally charged with harassment but on Monday the court accepted their not guilty pleas.

Sixty-three-year-old Mrs Edgar is to appear before magistrates later this month, and is expected to be cautioned.

Magpie thinks an ASFO [Anti-Social Flymo Order] should have been served on PC EDGAR.  








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ferrisconspiracy : ARCHIVE



Police story: with allegations of shakedowns, payoffs and cover-ups, 2004 was not a great year for the cops. Alan Heisey, as chair of the Toronto Police Services Board, aimed to clean up the mess. But one week into his tenure, he found himself the target of a brutal smear campaign. Things went downhill from there.
Source: Toronto Life
Date: 3/1/2005
Author: Lownsbrough, John

Police headquarters at 40 College Street is a postmodern fortress of pink granite and geometrical clutter. As chair of the Toronto Police Services Board, Alan Heisey had an office on the seventh floor, down the corridor from Chief Julian Fantino. I visited Heisey there last August, a couple of months after he'd announced he wouldn't seek to renew his term. It was sparsely decorated, as if a testament to the fleeting nature of such positions. On an otherwise barren desktop sat a small framed picture of his infant daughter, Rebecca. And hanging on a wall by the door was a photograph of a massasauga rattlesnake, taken in Georgian Bay, where the Heiseys spend their summers. "If you step on it, it bites you," he said with a knowing laugh.

But at least rattlers signal their presence with a warning. When an internal police memo casting Heisey as a pedophile sympathizer was leaked to the press in January 2004, it caught him totally unawares. It bit. It did damage. Yet on that morning in August, the atmosphere on the seventh floor seemed so tranquil. "It's almost peaceful," said Heisey. "But it's an illusion."

Indeed, his tenure as chair of the TPSB could be described as anything but peaceful. He took the position just as an RCMP investigation into Toronto's drug squad was bringing charges of widespread corruption. A few months later, another investigation unearthed allegations of shakedowns and payoffs among the plainclothes unit at 52 Division, implicating the president of the Toronto Police Association.

Even more destabilizing to the board were its internal problems. Heisey had replaced Norm Gardner, whose position was in limbo after he was accused of breaching board conduct. Though Gardner absented himself from TPSB meetings pending an inquiry, he refused to resign, so what should have been a seven-member board numbered six (or fewer) for most of 2004, resulting in hopeless deadlocks. That was one of two D-words used often last year in reference to the TPSB. The other was "dysfunctional." Heisey himself described the board in such terms. And it became a kind of battle cry for those critical of TPSB decisions, most notably the one that ended Julian Fantino's contract.

As the civilian body created to oversee the police--who aren't famous for welcoming scrutiny--the TPSB is accustomed to discord, but 2004, more than most, was a year of disgruntlement and paranoia at 40 College Street. The tabloidization of the issues into stark pro- or anti-cop positions highlighted the chronic absence of a middle ground. And so it was that a 50-year-old development and labour litigation lawyer named Alan Heisey found himself the rational man in an often irrational setting.

His full name--the way he signs his letters, the way he is formally addressed--is A. Milliken Heisey. Despite the somewhat grandiose moniker, Heisey is a man of slight build, five foot nine and maybe 145 pounds soaking wet. His eyes--alert, liquid blue--stare out from behind a pair of specs that lend him a donnish air. You can picture him with mortarboard and gown steering the undergrads to convocation. A devoted downtowner, he is an inveterate cyclist and has been known to bike, in formal attire, to black-tie dinners. He even escorted his nine-months-pregnant wife to the hospital on a bike (she rode sidesaddle on the back). The middle name comes from an ancestor, Major Benjamin Milliken, who was a senior officer in the York Militia during the suppression of the William Lyon Mackenzie Rebellion of 1837. He inherited his first name (as well as his civic conscience) from his father, a former North York alderman. "I hate being an Alan Jr. at 50, so I go with A. Milliken. I wanted to be my own man. It can be seen as an affectation, but it's an attempt to stake out your own territory."

Though people often mistake him for a private-school grad, Heisey went to York Mills Collegiate before attending U of T and then Osgoode Hall Law School. After working at Blake, Cassels & Graydon for a stretch, he became a partner at Kerzner Papazian, where he practised for almost 15 years, until the firm split in 2001. Back in 1992, he'd begun a nine-year stint on the board of the Toronto Parking Authority, six of those as its chair. He has a high energy level, as he is wont to remind you. "I'm an enthusiast," he says. "I approach everything vigorously. I'm Type Triple A."

"Alan was suave, charming, connected, and Mel [Lastman] worked really hard to end his term as parking authority chair," says Councillor Kyle Rae, who served with Heisey on that board. "He wanted the North York guys. He didn't care about skills--he wanted loyalty." Heisey is proud of his years at the parking authority, not least because, during his stewardship, pay-and-display machines were introduced. "They paid for themselves within a year," says Rae. "That's amazing."

But Heisey was looking for another challenge, "something to do in my spare time." Not that he has ever allowed himself much spare time. He has two university-age sons, Christiaan and Diederik, from his first marriage (to Ariane Heisey, a former Ryerson professor who now does environmental assessments for the Ontario government). He married his second wife, Janet, president of the Toronto chapter of the American Marketing Association, in 2000. They live on Ward's Island with their two small children--Jacob, who is two and a half, and Rebecca, now just over a year old--in what a friend describes as a "Frank Lloyd Wright type of thing" that Heisey built himself. Somewhere between launching his own law firm, Papazian Heisey Myers, and starting his second family, he lobbied to become one of the four city appointments to the Police Services Board (the remaining three members are appointed by the province) and joined up during the Norm Gardner-Mel Lastman-Mike Harris Tory hegemony.

The TPSB started life in 1956 as the Metropolitan Board of Commissioners of Police. Though mandated by the Police Services Act, which comes under provincial jurisdiction, the board consists of three provincial and four municipal appointees. Through the years, it has attracted its share of controversy, from those who find it too critical of the police and, no less vocal, those who find it not critical enough. Until Heisey became its chair--a job that comes with a $91,000 salary--the TPSB's most tumultuous period had been in the early 1990s, with power struggles between its chair at the time, tax lawyer Susan Eng, and then chief William McCormack.

By inclination, Heisey (who describes himself as a Red Tory) is a sort of genteel shit disturber. At his first TPSB meeting in the spring of 2001, he urged a motion that would civilianize parking enforcement. The idea had merit: why pay police academy-trained cops to monitor expired parking meters? But it would have meant substantial union job losses, and so, as Heisey had anticipated, it didn't fly. The motion lost 6-1, he recalls, "but I wouldn't have had my personal integrity if I hadn't tried." A wry smile at the recollection. "That was my first day."

Heisey was known for his progressive sympathies, such as championing bike patrols in a period when they were being trimmed. After his first two years, he sent off a letter to Lastman itemizing the board's deficiencies, including the lack of continuity. Twenty-two members in seven years is not a testimonial to institutional memory.

In general, however, as Heisey himself puts it, "I was Mr. Anonymous until December 2003." By that time, Norm Gardner had stepped aside, Mel Lastman was out and David Miller was in. Of those who remained on the board--Heisey and provincial appointee Dr. Benson Lau--Heisey appeared the abler, and more interested, candidate for the chair's job. And with three new city councillors in place--Pare McConnell and John Filion (left-of-centre Miller confreres) and Case Ootes (who had been Lastman's deputy)--appearance became reality. No more Mr. Anonymous. Though, within a week of his tenure, anonymity would become an awfully attractive prospect.

Alan Heisey's unfortunate catapult into the limelight all started with a casual conversation, maybe five or 10 minutes long, in the fall of 2002, during a conference about the Internet and sex crimes. At a cocktail reception as the delegate from the TPSB, he apparently mentioned a child pornography case that involved a teacher at Royal St. George's, a private school attended by one of his sons. Detective Sergeant Paul Gillespie, a high-profile member of the Sex Crimes Unit, and two other officers were present. According to Gillespie's version of events, Heisey "engaged in a one-way conversation," saying he hoped the teacher was not guilty. Gillespie said he couldn't discuss a specific case but mentioned that most of those his unit charged were "found to be in possession of child pornography involving very young children, and some in diapers."

"I understand how one could be attracted to the beautiful young body of an eight-year-old," Heisey is said to have responded, "but not children in diapers."

Gillespie was offended. He felt Heisey had crossed a line. So he recounted the entire conversation, as he remembered it, in a now infamous memo and forwarded it to his boss, Staff Superintendent Rocky Cleveland, who in turn passed it along to Chief Fantino, with an appended e-mail of his own: "Heisey is definitely a different sort. He has expressed his learned views on the legalization of marijuana and now his, in my view, bent perspective on child pornography and pedophiles. What next ... the benefits of mind-expanding LSD and heroin? Please forgive the rant. But he is a lawyer! Where do they find these people???"

A year and a half later, just after Heisey was made Police Services Board chair, that memo was leaked to the press. And on January 13, 2004--in one of those terrible moments that forever divide your life into before and after--CFTO aired its damning contents. Heisey was utterly stunned. He found Gillespie's remarks "deeply offensive" and claimed to have been quoted out of context. The TPSB hired retired judge Sydney Robins to decide if Heisey had contravened its code of conduct. Heisey, meanwhile, was left to carry on under an appalling shadow.

"For someone in the public eye, showing sympathy for pedophilia is akin to committing professional suicide," noted an editorial in the Globe and Mail, which condemned the leak but faulted Heisey for raising a specific case with an officer. "You might as well leave town, change your name and start fresh somewhere else."

Though Fantino declared the leak "unacceptable" and vowed to find whoever was responsible, members of the police and the media continued to sound off about the memo's contents. "You can't lose sight of the fact that many of our members were offended by Mr. Heisey's comments," Rick McIntosh, then head of the 7,600-member police union, told the Toronto Star, not long before resigning under a cloud of alleged corruption ties relating to the probe at 52 Division.

"The critical issue is not the internal memo that Gillespie prepared and how, or why, it came to be leaked," concluded Rosie DiManno in the Star. "What's at issue is whether there was justification for Gillespie to be so appalled by what Heisey said--allegedly drawing some kind of esthetic or intellectual distinction between depictions of eight-year-old boys and babies in diapers ... The memo is offensive only if it was wrong."

John Barber, who got his hands on a copy of the memo, was supportive of Heisey. "Nobody who reads Det. Sgt. Gillespie's memo ... will ever dare chit-chat with that guy in a hotel-room hospitality suite again," he observed in his Globe column. "His suspicion, his contempt and his resentment of 'Mr. A. Milliken Heisey,' as he refers to him repeatedly--six times in one five-line paragraph--is merely chilling."

Justice Robins, who released his report two months after the leak, concluded that Heisey had been making conversation, not attempting to sway an investigation: "... why those comments, devoid as they were of any attempt to influence or interfere with police decisions or responsibilities, should be ... noted in a police report is not readily apparent." As for the "body of an eight-year-old" comment and whether such words would compromise the integrity of the board, the judge thought not: "In distinguishing one degree of perversion from another, Mr. Heisey says he was trying to fathom the mind of a pedophile and comprehend how one could engage in such deviant behaviour. In no sense was this a statement of his personal beliefs or an indication of sympathy toward child pornography or abuse. He is shocked beyond words that his remarks could be so grotesquely misconstrued."

Robins included in his report a conversation between himself and Rocky Cleveland, Gillespie's boss, during which the staff superintendent admitted he'd reacted out of frustration that board members "were not better educated (he blames 'the government' for this) about 'the business we are in,' and ... do not realize it is unacceptable to make such comments at a child pornography seminar to a member of the Sex Crimes Unit. At the end of the day, he thinks that Mr. Heisey made a mistake in making the comments he did but that 'He is a bright man, and I'm truly sorry for his problems; it is unfair and inappropriate.'"

Talking to me months later; however, Heisey tried to convey an impression of composure. "I'd never dealt with the press, I'd never heard of a media scrum, but I'm used to conflict because I'm a litigation lawyer," he told me. "I was totally on, February onward. Hell, I gave a speech to police officers the week that memo was leaked. I heard cops muttering 'He's got balls to be here.'" Yet his pale blue eyes still registered pain at the memory. At his law office at King and York, I noticed photographs of his older sons in their school uniforms, and I wondered aloud how his family had handled that difficult time. After all, Heisey and his wife had just celebrated the birth of their daughter, Rebecca, when the memo was leaked. A joyous occasion became suddenly tainted. "My home phone was ringing at six in the morning," he recalled. "I was chased by media at public functions, scrummed by four or five reporters at one social event." Heisey shifted in his chair: "It's worse than you know," he said quietly, his eyes clouding. End of discussion.

Despite Fantino's promise, the source of the leak remains unknown. "If there is a lesson to be learned from this unhappy affair, it is that it should not happen again," wrote Judge Robins. "No member of our community should suffer the grave injustice that we have witnessed here."

By the time of his exoneration, however, Heisey was probably already contemplating his escape. His friend David Butler, an urban planner, recalls a February lunch at which Heisey indicated that an exit strategy was in the works. "He's always been a David and Goliath kind of guy," says Butler. "But when it's something that affects family, you say, 'Why am I doing this?' To go toe to toe in the courts or the Ontario Municipal Board, you win or lose on your capability. You may not like the result, but this is something quite different. It's politics--it's dirty."

The Heisey memo had apparently floated around police and media circles for months before it broke on CFTO. Norm Gardner, who had received a copy from Fantino in late 2002, was probably in the best position to know how the document circulated so widely but confesses himself at a loss. "I had the thing on my desk for a few days," he says. "To the best of my knowledge, it was in the files. Maybe somebody got into the files." He evidently thought little of it at the time it arrived, though later he claimed to have shown it to two members of his board, councillors Gloria Lindsay Luby and Frances Nunziata. (Both women denied being broached on the matter.)

Short in stature but tall in macho affect, Gardner has lupine eyes and a long nose that crests in two pugilistic nostrils. A gun fancier, he famously used one from his collection on a man in a balaclava who tried to stick up his North York bakery. "I thought I'd hit him," he says, re-enacting the event, "but he's going like agazelle." His speech has the cadence of a Borscht Belt comedian. "I grew up in a poor area," he begins one anecdote. "We shared our gum." Garrulous to a fault, he is, as Alan Heisey says, "the ultimate schmooze guy."

It should have been Gardner at that fateful conference in 2002, schmoozing with Paul Gillespie and the others, but he had agreed to be a panellist at another conference in Newfoundland and sent Heisey to attend in his stead. "Just bring greetings and go with the flow" is what Gardner says he told Heisey. "Why would you get into a discussion with members of the pornography squad who think it's a terrible thing and say you hope the person gets off? You never say what you think somebody should get, especially if it's controversial with the police. If you don't say anything, you don't get into trouble." And yet, when the memo was forwarded to Gardner, he didn't mention it to Heisey.

Which begs the question of the relationship between the two men. "There was a rumour going around that Heisey wanted to unseat Gardner," says Lindsay Luby. "I think he was working with board members to do that." Frances Nunziata, the only person I've ever heard refer to Alan Heisey as Al, adds that "there was a lot of bitterness between Norm and Al. I guess Norm felt he would never be challenged." His critics complain he became far too cozy with police management and union both. "After a while, I think Norm felt he was a police officer," says Nunziata. "I think he probably wished he was a police officer, that he'd gotten into policing rather than politics."

Perhaps that assumption best explains why Gardner allegedly accepted, either as a gift or at a wholesaler's discount, a Para Ordnance Tac-Four handgun from a Scarborough firearms manufacturer. The subsequent investigation revealed that he had also availed himself of 5,700 rounds of free amino from the police training academy. "Probably a mistake in judgment," he now admits, adding that he had been told the ammunition was surplus. "I accepted it because these guys are trying to be so nice to me. Perhaps I allowed too many police to get too close to me--which is not bad because it improved morale. It's sort of a Catch-22."

Gardner was formally suspended from the board last April, but he appealed while continuing to hold his seat. Nothing in the Police Services Act demanded he resign, though both Mayor Miller and Community Safety and Correctional Services Minister Monte Kwinter would join the chorus of those urging him to do so.

"There's no ability to replace him, even on a temporary basis," Heisey complained in the summer. "That's an outrageous outcome. It's also not good for Norm. I think he should resign, and I've told him so to his face. I'm just sorry he didn't apply his dedication to make the right decision."

Some speculated Gardner held on because he wanted the board to pay his legal costs. Though no longer able to draw the chair's salary, he could continue to claim the annual $8,700 paid to other board members. Adding to his ignominy came the revelation that, as TPSB chair, he had approved his own travel and meal expenses to the tune of $50,000. With all the appeals and requests to overturn appeals, the whole thing dragged out until last October, when Gardner's original appeal was upheld. Yet it seemed a pyrrhic victory. On November 1, a month before his term on the board would expire anyway, Norm Gardner at last announced his resignation.

For all those months that he'd refused to budge, however, his absence became a kind of presence. And people would trace the source of the TPSB's biggest problem--a six-member board split down the middle--to the man who wasn't there.

Sure you should be careful what you say after a few glasses of wine in front of detectives," a TPSB source told the Star, "so, OK, what Heisey did was not wise. But it's scary for everybody around it. There's a sense that if you're not a cheerleader for the police, they may get you. You know--one misstep and watch out!" People had their ideas about the reasons behind the leak. They noted, for instance, how the memo furor occurred just as the inquiry into Norm Gardner's alleged misconduct had gotten under way, and how the Heisey matter might deflect attention from Gardner's woes--a conspiracy theory that had traction in certain sections of city hall. They noted, too, that Heisey had been making noises about developing a plan for a new independent complaints system on alleged police misconduct, and that a Heisey board was likely to apply greater scrutiny to the $700-million police budget. Only the board had the authority to examine the budget on line items; with its power to hire and fire the chief, this amounted to its greatest responsibility.

The Heisey board, in other words, promised to reinvigorate civilian oversight, which had dissipated during the Harris years. "Under the Tories and Lastman, the appointments tended to be more police friendly," says Marcel Wieder, a one-time political consultant to the police association. "Now the rank and file don't trust the civilian oversight because [those in civilian oversight] don't understand what they do. They have the sense that they're second-guessing them. Any time the Police Services Board tries to use its mandate to oversee, the police think they're trying to infringe on how they're doing their job. They see things in black and white: you're for us or against us."

For all its good intentions and ideas, however, the Heisey board was impaired from the start. For the first few months of last year, it consisted of only five members. Norm Gardner's seat was still in limbo, and the retired Ontario Superior Court judge Hugh Locke would not take his seat at the table until April. Heisey was often lumped in with McConnell and Filion as the left wing of the board--a label that irked him. Similarly, it bothered Ootes and Lau to be classified as the reactionary element. "Being a minority," says Lau, with an air of ingenuousness that defies dissent, "how could I be right-wing?"

Clearly, though, the board at times appeared divided along partisan lines. Ootes found McConnell "continuously confrontational. You'd think you were on a social services committee. Social programs and recreational centres are extremely important, but ... You ought to look at the budget in terms of the services it requires and not simply endeavour to knock it down because it's the largest."

On this score, Lau shared Ootes's views. "Some think the service should do more community work, and I don't agree," he told me. "I think they should do more policing." He also approved of the more laissez-faire attitudes of the Gardner era: "When the operation is running well, there's no need for the board to interfere."

I asked Heisey about the culture clash between the cops and the board. "There isn't a culture clash," he replied pointedly. "We don't interact. Effective civilian governance is about relationships, about being close but not too close."

In the effort to become close, but not too close, he walked a fine line. "I thought he was moderate, very balanced," says Me Connell. She is the workhorse of the group, and something of a keener--the smartest kid in the class, striving in vain to keep her hand down when the teacher asks a question. "Heisey never moved quickly, without thought. Sometimes I thought he moved a bit too slowly--but I think that's good in a chair, that he considers all sides."

Ootes cannot resist a dig. With that wintry twinkle of the country parson, he recalls a conference where Heisey, in his remarks, is supposed to have used the phrase "We in the police culture ..." Ootes's recessive mouth puckers slightly. "Well, I'm not in the police culture--I'm above it. I think Heisey means well. He just doesn't have the skill set."

In the shadow of the 52 Division corruption scandal, the TPSB gathered at the Delta Chelsea in May 2004 for a day-long retreat. In relative terms, it went well. The group, including its newest member, Hugh Locke, managed to agree, in theory, on seeking an outside review of police management. But Fantino had orchestrated his own response to the drug squad brouhaha. A couple of years earlier, without board approval, he had hired retired justice George Ferguson to consult on police reforms, which fall under the board's purview. Fantino claims they were "operational" reforms, not involving policy, and that he wasn't required to consult the board. But now, instead of collaborating with the TPSB to improve a troubled police force, he held his own press conference to announce the implementation of Ferguson's reforms--a way of signalling who was in the driver's seat. As one board source characterized it in the press, Fantino was "playing Lone Ranger."

At the May 27 meeting of the board, just 10 days after the Delta Chelsea retreat, Heisey's talents as a moderating influence were stretched to the breaking point. It took place in a conference room at City Hall, where the chief, the secretary and counsel for the board, and the board members themselves--minus Case Ootes, who was on vacation--assembled in semicircular formation at cherrywood-fronted desks.

George Ferguson showed up, and though his appearance was not unexpected, what he had to say was. A pale and severe-looking figure in a wheelchair, he was there to protest the impending motion for independent police review, which, he claimed, would "duplicate virtually all" his own work. It represented an "irresponsible and offensive insult to me, to my mandate and to my investigation," he scolded. The judge wore a bracelet that clinked occasionally against the desktop as he emphasized certain points. His lecture and his spectral appearance prompted a collective intake of breath from the assembled. Heisey kept his cool but was stinging in return: "Any doubt I had in sponsoring this motion--and I've had doubts--has been resolved in favour of this motion."

A united TPSB front would have been helpful at that moment, but removed from the collegial spirit of the Delta Chelsea, consensus seemed to vanish. McConnell, who had been the driving force behind the idea of outside review, had been making last-minute changes to the motion right up to the start of the meeting. Judge Locke wasn't biting. Though what fuelled his crusty demeanour probably stemmed more from the toxic context in which the motion was being proposed. "The wording struck me as nothing more than an insult to the whole police service," he said later. "I was disgusted because I felt pressure and I felt it was a political manoeuvre."

After some piercing commentary on the responsibility of civilian oversight and how to re-establish the line between the police and the TPSB, Locke attempted his own pre-emptive strike. He recommended that his "good friend" Judge Ferguson's remarks be received and studied, and he moved to defer the independent review motion. When that didn't go over, he upped the ante. Snapping shut his briefcase, he stood up, offered a curt "Good day" and walked out of the chamber; Benson Lau, who believed that Heisey and the others were taking advantage of Ootes's absence to force their agenda, followed in short order. Deprived of a quorum, and quivering in frustration, Heisey had no choice but to adjourn. It was at this meeting that he first publicly described the board as dysfunctional, a remark offered up with a tiny snort of disbelief, but the word's truest application was still to come.

Though 62 years old, Chief Fantino--"Julie" to his friends, "the General" to his underlings--was in no mood to retire. Protocol demanded that he announce his intention to seek renewal of his contract nine months prior to its expiration date, which he did. The TPSB, in turn, was required to respond within 30 days. Because these decisions are made in camera, what actually transpired is based on conjecture and hearsay. But in a place where leaks to the press are habitual (no matter that every board member takes an oath of confidentiality), the accepted version of events had the board split 3-3 on two motions, one to extend Fantino's contract by two years, another to extend it by one. A split vote meant the motions could not pass. The General was out of luck. Not surprisingly, Ootes, Locke and Lau were said to support retaining Fantino, while McConnell, Filion and Heisey--whose confidence in the chief seemed to be shattered after the Ferguson episode--were supposedly against.

The decision was released on June 24, following the TPSB's monthly meeting. I remember watching Fantino that afternoon, and nothing in his expression indicated awareness of this bitterly disappointing outcome. But then, the chief often played his cards close to his vest. It was said that Lastman had offered Fantino an extension on his contract as early as spring 2003 but that the talks had stalled. Fantino himself may have stalled them, assuming he could make a better deal if John Tory became the new mayor, as seemed likely at the time. Despite his high poll numbers--78 per cent favourable at their peak--the chief had a reputation for being authoritarian and thin skinned, too inclined to opt for high-tech doodads like helicopters and tasers rather than fundamentals like beat cops and bike patrols, and far too proprietary when it came to sharing information with the community and his civilian overseers.

In its statement to the press, the TPSB was fulsome in its praise for Fantino--except that he was going and "as this is a personal [sic] matter," the release stated, "the board will not be making any further comment." Here was a Freudian slip board critics could savour.

Fantino fans railed that the TPSB had been hijacked by politics. And by politics, they meant left-wing politics. "They [i.e., Heisey, McConnell and Filion] are answering to someone's political whim: maybe their own, maybe some other people at city hall, and I would suggest the mayor," declared Andrew Clarke, a spokesman for the police association.

Lau and Ootes felt Heisey had been co-opted and made their views public. "I firmly believe he was taking direct instructions from the mayor," Ootes said, "especially as it concerned the extension of the chief's contract."

It rankled Heisey that he was seen as part of some left-wing cabal. True, he and Miller had crossed paths before, and they were clearly simpatico on some issues (they had both been directors of the Community Bicycle Network). He had also given money "and a little advice" to Miller during the 2003 mayoralty campaign. But he was hardly in Miller's back pocket. He had also given money to Barbara Hall and John Nunziata. "In my wildest imagination," he told me," I never thought Miller could win."

David Miller shut down a discussion on the chief's contract in city council, on a vote of 24-19. But at least two representatives of the Keep the Chief campaign--councillors Giorgio Mammoliti and Frances Nunziata--wouldn't back down. They showed up at the July TPSB meeting asking to speak. A motion to hear Mammoliti provoked another deadlock vote. Nunziata, whose jockette vivacity made her the Rizzo of City Hall Central High, then sprang into action and went to crouch beside Heisey at the board table. But whatever persuasion she attempted did not have the desired effect. "Mr. Chairman, I'm very surprised at you, very disgusted," she declared as she and Mammoliti exited the auditorium.

Meanwhile, with a motion on the table to retain a search consultant for a new chief, tempers continued to flare. Lau, whose term on the board was expiring in a couple of months, insisted he had "no moral ground" to support such a motion. That duty, he felt, should be left to a new board. Locke agreed. "Mr. Chair, you yourself are reported to have said the board is dysfunctional," he said before intimating that perhaps the selection of a consultant had been "preordained." The suggestion was that Heisey, McConnell and Filion had made the decision in advance.

"That's libellous and that's not true," said Heisey the lawyer.

"It's not libellous and I believe it to be true," replied Locke the judge. "Never mind threatening me."

The motion was ultimately shot down, but first, in a misguided effort to smooth the waters, John Filion directed attention to Fantino. "I'd like to ask the chief if he's got words of wisdom," he said. Fantino, the image of smouldering hurt, replied, "I consider myself the victim in all this--I don't think you want my words."

The delicate matter of the chief's contract would not be resolved for several months more. In September, after achieving board approval for his version of a new public complaints system, Heisey stepped down. The city appointed in his stead Dr. Alok Mukherjee, a human rights advocate and associate of the mayor. The province, for its part, resisted any quick replacement of Lau, indicating an intention to follow the city's lead in the appointment of board members. The decision meant that, at the October meeting, the board numbered five again, with a reform element (McConnell, Filion and Mukherjee) in the ascendant.

"When you call this vote, I know which way it's going to go," said Locke with irritable resignation, and no one could doubt the outcome this time. The motion to hire a consultant and begin the search for a new chief passed 3-2.

The future of the TPSB in the short term appears to be a calmer one, given that the progressives are in control (the province finally appointed journalist and community activist Hamlin Grange to replace Lau). On the other hand, certain structural problems remain. The Police Services Act should be amended to prevent a Norm Gardner absentee situation from arising again. Miller (who will take a seat himself in May, when the current council reps' first terms are up), has even been encouraged to push for municipal control of the act. And some observers think the size of the board should be increased, even doubled, to better reflect the city's diversity.

Another motion that passed at the October meeting initiated a process recommended by Justice Sydney Robins. To prevent future smear campaigns, Robins had suggested, "Protocols and procedures dealing with the collection of unfounded, unsubstantiated and unproven information should be developed." No one mentioned Heisey by name. Out of deference perhaps. Or maybe to avoid revisiting a still raw and painful episode.

At his farewell board meeting, Heisey had tried to put a positive spin on his gruelling experience with civic duty: "Thank you for this opportunity," he told the assembled officers, staff and spectators. "It's been a real slice. I'm going to go away and do my day job and kiss my children." A reporter later asked him if he had any regrets. "No regrets at all," he said. He was, after all, a high-energy guy who had been looking for a challenge. He found one


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ferrisconspiracy : UPDATE


16 April 2006
A POLICE officer has been suspended over claims he was high on cocaine on duty.

PC Graham Drummond is on paid leave while being investigated by colleagues at Fife Constabulary.

Drummond, who is in his mid 20s, has been asked to submit a blood sample for testing.

The probe was sparked by an anonymous tip-off to a senior officer.

He was not suspended immediately but had his behaviour placed under scrutiny.

The PC was summoned by superiors two weeks ago and told of the allegations.


Drummond, described by workmates as "able and likeable", has been with the force for less than three years.

Several colleagues have been interviewed as part of the investigation.

But he has not faced any criminal charges relating to the allegation.

Fife Constabulary refused to comment but an insider said: "People are absolutely staggered by this claim.

"Graham's a likeable guy and most people's reaction was that it must be a mistake. He has had messages of support since he was suspended.

"If the allegation is true he is in trouble both with work and the fiscal."

PC Drummond comes from Kennoway, Fife, where his family live.

His stepfather is a serving officer with the same force and is said to be devastated over the allegations.

The source added: "No one can really believe it because Graham comes from a police background and was regarded as having a bright future ahead of him."

Drummond was approached by the Sunday Mail near his flat in Kirkcaldy but he declined to comment.

It was revealed last week that 158 serving police in Scotland have convictions including assault, drink-driving and attempting to pervert the course of justice.

Fife was the only constabulary which declined to give the information under the Freedom of Information Act saying it would use too many resources.

'We're staggered.. he was seen as a bright prospect' POLICE INSIDER

The TRUTH is out there...........

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Corrupt police split reward cash with fake informants

Drug addict detective fabricated tip-offs, sabotaged court cases and planted evidence

Tony Thompson, crime correspondent
Sunday December 17, 2000
The Observer

Corrupt detectives across Britain are pocketing tens of thousands of pounds by sharing reward money with a network of 'fake' informants, The Observer can reveal.

The scam involves the recruitment of petty crooks who appear before senior officers and confirm that they provided the original tip-off which led to a subsequent seizure or arrest. They then got their reward, which can range from several hundred to several thousand pounds. The money is later split with the detective concerned.

The practice came to light during the Old Bailey trial of former Detective Constable Austin Warnes, who pleaded guilty last week to charges of conspiracy to pervert the course of justice.

Warnes had played a key role in a plot to assist Simon James in winning custody of his young son. James had hired private detective Jonathan Rees from the Law and Commercial agency in south London to plant a significant quantity of cocaine in a car belonging to his estranged wife, Kim, a former model. The plan was to get her sent to prison, leaving the child in the father's sole care.

Warnes, a long-time cocaine addict who moonlighted for Law and Commercial, had agreed to assist the plot by passing false information to local police that Kim James was involved in high-level cocaine dealing. The plan failed because anti-corruption detectives had been monitoring Rees's agency, following concerns that he had been making illegal payments to a number of serving police officers in return for confidential information. Bugging devices alerted them to the James plot.

Following his arrest last September, Warnes had originally claimed that the tip-off about Kim James came from his registered informant, who was later revealed to be reformed gangster turned bestselling author Dave Courtney. At the Old Bailey trial, Courtney revealed that, far from being an informant, he had been involved in a '100 per cent corrupt' relationship with Warnes for 15 years which involved recruiting fake informants, obtaining information from the police computer and sabotaging numerous court cases.

An investigation by The Observer has revealed that Warnes's unscrupulous practices went far deeper than those admitted during the trial. Officers in other police forces, including Essex and Greater Manchester, have been investigated for allegedly sharing rewards with informants.

Warnes fed his own drug habit by regularly stealing drugs during raids. Warnes also assisted Courtney and dozens of other professional criminals in the south London area to avoid capture and evade charges by providing them with information about police investigations. In order to cover himself and not face questioning about why he was accessing police files, Warnes would say one of his informants had knowledge relevant to the case.

'The information he provided was invaluable,' says Mick, a one-time armed robber and one of those who benefited from Warnes' corruption. 'He would be able to tell you what statements the police had obtained, who they had interviewed, which properties were under surveillance, which phones were being tapped - the lot. Worth its weight in gold. You would pay between £5,000 and £10,000 a time, but it was well worth it.'

Documents obtained by The Observer show that, in one case, Warnes intervened after an attempted kidnapping. One of the suspects, an associate of Courtney, had gone on the run. Warnes telephoned the officer in charge and said he had an informant that might be able to help in the case but would require all the information. The officer in charge of the kidnap later noted: 'The impression gleaned from the information requested and questions asked was not one of an officer keen to assist but more of an officer bent on obtaining information for his own purposes.'

Warnes would regularly brag about fitting people up and applying pressure to ensnare people. He would carry out surveillance before making arrests to ensure they were carried out in the most compromising position possible. If a villain had a mistress, he would be arrested at her address rather than at home in order to increase the level of hassle if he pleaded not guilty. If he had a small child, the raid would take place late on Friday evening and fake drugs would be planted in his wife's possessions.

This would lead to the wife being held in custody and the child being taken into care over the weekend. 'By the end of the weekend, it would all be looking so grim he'd have to plead guilty. He said he collected fag ends - you can get DNA from traces of saliva - to plant at crime scenes to implicate people he didn't like.'

The Old Bailey heard that Warnes had bragged about his ability to help with matters concerning the 'IRA, driving offences, drugs, anything,' witness Brendan McGirr said. The court also heard from club owner Lee Smith, who admitted paying Warnes £500 per week in order to be warned if his venue was to be raided.

Rees and Simon James were convicted of conspiracy to pervert the course of justice. Both men were sentenced to six years. Warnes was sentenced to four years. James Cook, who had been filmed planting the drugs in the car, and Courtney were both acquitted of all charges.

Courtney, a one-time friend of the Kray twins, has made 10 court appearances in the past 15 years and has now received 10 not guilty verdicts in a row. 'I have always had faith in the British Justice system,' he said outside the court.

'That not guilty verdict was both for the charge I faced and the accusation that I was a grass. I have never been an informer.'




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Concern about high levels of crime in London in the late seventeenth century led the government to adopt the practice of offering substantial rewards for apprehending and convicting those guilty of specific serious crimes, such as highway robbery and coining.


This practice expanded in the eighteenth century, and was supplemented by individual victims of crime who offered rewards for the return of their stolen goods. Both practices were facilitated by the advent of daily newspapers in the early eighteenth century, which allowed information about such rewards to be widely distributed in advertisements.


The introduction of these financial rewards fundamentally altered the character of criminal justice in the metropolis.


Thief-takers used their knowledge of the criminal underworld to profit from both types of rewards. They negotiated between thieves and the victims of theft to return stolen goods in exchange for a fee. At the same time, they occasionally used their knowledge of criminality to inform on criminals and prosecute them at the Old Bailey in order collect the substantial rewards offered by the state for their conviction.


This second activity arguably facilitated the administration of criminal justice, but the more corrupt thief-takers went further: they blackmailed criminals with threats of prosecution if they failed to pay protection money, and some even became "thief-makers" by encouraging gullible men to commit crimes, who were then apprehended and prosecuted by the thief-taker in order to collect the reward.


Such practices illustrate the point that not all "crimes" prosecuted at the Old Bailey actually took place; some prosecutions were malicious.

Hey that shark has pretty teeth dear and he shows 'em pearly white.
Just a jackknife has Macheath dear And he keeps it way out of site.

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The Sunday Times April 16, 2006

Top policeman apologises for suicide bomb joke

ONE of Scotland’s most senior police officers has been forced to apologise after cracking a joke about suicide bombers at an official dinner.

John Vine, the chief constable of Tayside Police and a former head of the Association of Chief Police Officers in Scotland (ACPOS), told the gag at the annual dinner of the Perth Bar Association last month.

A guest speaker at the event, he is said to have shocked some guests by telling a joke about two Al-Qaeda terrorists discussing their children. The punch line is, when one says to the other: “Don’t kids blow up so quickly these days?”.

A member of the audience described how the police officer appeared to veer from his script to tell the joke, which was not well received by a number of those in attendance.

Vine, who led Scotland’s forces in the anti-terror security operation at the G8 summit in Gleneagles last summer, said last night he regarded the joke as “innocuous” and had not meant to cause offence.

He added: “I have had no complaints — in fact I received a letter from one of the organisers thanking me for attending and saying how well the evening had gone.

“It was an innocuous joke and there was no mention of any offence taken at the time. It was not racist or sexist. However if anyone has taken offence, then I apologise.”

However he could now face disciplinary action from the Tayside Joint Police Board. Its chairman, Colin Young, is reported to have said he intends raising the matter with Vine.

Bashir Maan, Scottish spokesman for the Muslim Council of Great Britain, said: “I don’t know what Mr Vine meant by this joke, or in what spirit it was told, but he should have been more careful in his selection of material.”

Shona Robison, justice spokeswoman for the Scottish National party, said: “I’m not surprised that, by all accounts, the audience were stunned into silence. It’s not the kind of joke you’d expect to hear from one of Scotland’s most senior police officers.”

It is not the first time Vine’s comments have caused controversy. In 2002, he claimed Scotland’s police forces were being colonised by English officers at the highest ranks.

He said a growing number of senior English officers were taking top jobs in Scottish forces and blamed a lack of ambition among Scottish officers. Vine claimed that a “parochial” attitude among Scottish officers meant that few were likely to succeed at the highest level.

Earlier this month, Vine was outspoken about the future of policing in Scotland when he called for half of the forces in Scotland to be abolished, claiming that policing could be delivered just as effectively with a streamlined operation that would involve four rather than the existing eight forces.




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Hi Hammer6, Admin2, Magpie & mactheknife... thank you for all the excellent posts with regards to 'Deviant Behaviour Of The Police'.


Wow...some amount of reading in these posts!  The majority of it very eyebrow-raising and scandalous...  Well, we all like a bit of scandal now and then, and lets face it, this is one topic that I sincerely doubt will ever run dry...


Admin takes a little time off and returns to an overwhelming amount of information and articles relating to the skullduggery of our very own Police Forces - you know, those guys that are meant to be serving and protecting, and catching the ones who are doing the deviant behaviour?  Obviously someone screwed up THAT training session...

I'd rather be hated for what I am, than loved for what I am not".

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Hi Admin. Talk about SCREWED up the training session, take a look at what these three officers have been up to.


Monday, 20 March 2006


Sex-on-duty policeman spared jail
St Helens police station
Pc Ruddock was based at St Helens
An "exemplary" police officer who had sex while he should have been on patrol in Merseyside has been given 200 hours community service.

Pc James Ruddock had sex with a woman after giving her a lift home in his patrol car, a court was told.

The 36-year-old officer pleaded guilty at Liverpool Crown Court last month to misconduct in public office.

Ruddock had received a commendation for bravery during his 10-year career with Merseyside Police.

The court heard that Ruddock, who has a 14-month-old son, slept with the student after she invited him into her home for a cup of tea.

He had offered the woman, who is in her late 20s, a lift home following a disturbance outside a pub in St Helens in June last year.

He has let himself, the public and the police force down
Christopher Stables, defending

The court heard that Ruddock's colleague left him with the woman for 15 minutes before returning to pick him up to deal with a domestic incident.

The woman later alleged that Ruddock had raped her, but those charges were dropped by the prosecution in December.

In interview, Ruddock admitted he had slept with the woman but insisted it was consensual.

Christopher Stables, defending, said: "He has let himself, the public and the police force down."

'Sad day'

The court heard that Ruddock had been commended for bravery in March 1998 for tackling a man who had just stabbed another man to death.

The court heard the police officer had resigned from the force and his pension had been frozen.

Judge Henry Globe warned Ruddock he could have faced a prison sentence.

He said on Monday: "You have been an exemplary police officer and I note your commendation for bravery.


"It is a very sad day that you are before the courts today. However, you are the author of your own misfortune."

Patrol car sex romp PC spared jail term

Mar 16 2006

By Sam Lister Daily Post Staff


PC Raymond Waring

A POLICE officer who had sex with his mistress on the backseat of his patrol car escaped a jail sentence yesterday.

PC Raymond Waring, 32, who served with Cheshire Constabulary, had sex with the woman while on duty in August, 2002.

He was found guilty of misconduct in public office following a trial at Chester crown court, and was yesterday sentenced to 200 hours' community punishment and ordered to pay £500 costs.

Judge Mr Justice Pitchford told married Waring, of Guernsey Road, Widnes: "On August 11, 2002, you departed from your tour of duty and for a period of probably two hours indulged your sexual appetite with a drunken woman, with whom you were having an affair, in the back of your panda car.


"During that time, you weren't patrolling the streets of Warrington or answering any calls for help.

"I take the view that your offence is sufficiently serious to warrant a sentence of imprisonment, but I have decided it's in the public interest that you should make reparation to them for the abdication of your duty by doing unpaid work in the community."

Evidence of Waring's activities came to light during an investigation of an alleged rape of another woman, the sentencing hearing at Bristol Crown Court was told.

Waring and his colleague, PC Stephen McGuire, 34, were accused of raping a handcuffed woman in their police car while on duty on New Year's Eve, 2002.

Both men were cleared of the offence, but during the investigation, forensic officers found evidence that Waring had been having sex on the back seat of a patrol car.


When questioned, Waring admitted he had been having an affair and had had consensual sex with Rhonda Sutcliffe. Usually, Miss Roberts said, sex took place when Waring had finished his shift and collected her after a night out.

On August 11, 2002, Waring was on duty and picked up Ms Sutcliffe after a night out and, after dropping a friend of hers off, took her to a secluded lay-by in Houghton Green, Warrington.

He removed his utility belt and police radio and placed them in the boot of his car. The couple then had sex. Waring, who had been an officer for seven years, was dismissed after internal disciplinary proceedings.

The court heard he was now seeking work as a security guard.

After the hearing, Waring said: "I'm just very relieved that everything's over. It's been two long years.

"I'm very thankful to my legal team for supporting me all the way and to my family and friends.


Friday, 10 February 2006


Police officer admits sex on duty
A former policeman has admitted misconduct in public office after having sex with a woman while on duty.

Former constable Shajan Miah, who resigned from Greater Manchester Police in October 2005, pleaded guilty to four counts of misconduct.

The offences relate to three occasions where he had sex with a woman while on duty and one count of inappropriate use of data from the police computer.

He will be sentenced at Manchester Crown Court at a later date.

'Abused power'

The charges were the result of an investigation carried out by Greater Manchester Police Internal Affairs Department and managed by the Independent Police Complaints Commission (IPCC).

Naseem Malik, IPCC Commissioner for the North West, said: "These were very serious allegations and Greater Manchester Police, managed by the IPCC, carried out a thorough investigation.

"Shajan Miah abused the power granted to police officers and his behaviour fell well below the standard expected by the public and the police service."

An earlier charge of indecent assault against Miah was dropped.


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Lesbian and Gay Police Association Representing gay law enforcement personnel in the United Kingdom, this site includes links for suggested reading and other references.Gay Officers' Action League The official site of GOAL New York, the first chapter in what has now become an unofficial network of GOAL groups around the country. Gay Cops, the book Two reviews of the book Gay Cops by Stephen Leinen.


The 1993 book is the result of a decade's worth of interviews with gay men and lesbians who wear the badge.

Gay and lesbian police officers face a complex work environment. Some are coming out, forming supportive alliances and taking a stand against homophobia. The younger generation of police officers has a more open-minded view of sexual orientation.

From the beat partol to the precinct house, gay and lesbian police officers are shatering the blue wall of silence.

Amid the flourishes of full police regalia, Officer Anthony Crespo beamed as he strode across a stage set up in front of New York City police headquarters to accept the Medal of Valor from Mayor Rudolph Giuliani. On that crisp fall day last September, he became the first openly gay officer in the city's history to receive a medal for heroism.


Crespo was being honored for a 1995 incident in which he rescued a female cop being held at knifepoint by a suicidal man who had walked into the precinct station. Crespo shot the man, who later died, but not before the deranged man stabbed Crespo in the chest, puncturing his left lung. The Medal of Valor ceremony was "definitely the high point of my career," says Crespo, who is liaison officer to the gay and lesbian community in the Park Slope neighborhood of Brooklyn.

But the reactionary side of law enforcement was also on full display that day. Immediately after the ceremony Emergency Services Unit officer Lawrence Johnston, who had just received a medal presented by the Gay Officers' Action League for his bravery in ending a crazed man's shooting rampage in 1995, marched up to GOAL New York president Edgar Rodriguez and returned his medal.

Johnston declined to comment on his motivation, but Patrick Burke, a board member of Johnston's union, told the New York Post, "Personally, he has nothing against gays, but his wife and children felt humiliated" by his receiving a medal from GOAL.


Burke also noted that homosexuality "goes against [Johnston's] religious beliefs." In many ways these two events at the NYPD ceremony accurately portray the complex work environment faced by gay and lesbian officers in this most macho of professions.


There has been great progress since the early '90s, when Daryl Gates, the disgraced former Los Angeles police chief, smugly declared that there were no gay officers under his command. An increasing number of cops are bravely coming out and speaking their minds when they hear homophobic comments or witness unequal treatment of gays.


Organizations like GOAL and the Golden State Peace Officers Association, California's gay cop alliance, have further increased their clout. These efforts are already being felt by young openly gay officers like San Francisco's Michael Robison, who joined the force in 1992. "The older gay guys in the department were the first ones who were brave enough to be out," he says. "I'm treated like one of the guys."


Robison says that when work-related problems do arise, officers--who depend on one another for 100% support--feel free to talk to one another. "The `good ol' boys' system is on its way out, and the newer generation that's replaced them sees things from a more open-minded standpoint. We have a common saying among people in the department: `When you're at work you're all wearing blue.' I really hand it to the people who came out back then because they really-paved-the way for us."

Pressure is also being exerted from the outside. Unlike the U.S. military, where the Republican-controlled Congress has retained homophobic policies, local police departments are feeling the heat from city councils and progressive mayors to be more responsive to the communities they protect. Now, many cities have gay-sensitive police chiefs. "Los Angeles is one of the most ethnically and culturally diverse cities in the world and has always had a thriving gay and lesbian community," wrote Bernard Parks, chief of the Los Angeles Police Department, in a prepared statement to The Advocate.


Yet, he admits, "for many years there were no openly gay or lesbian employees in the LAPD." That's changing, however, as the nation's second largest city actively recruits gay men and lesbians. "There are now dozens of sworn and civilian personnel who openly identify themselves as gay or lesbian. Lesbians and gay men hold highly sensitive positions in elite units within the LAPD, such as the office of the chief of police, internal affairs, training division, and recruitment unit," according to Parks. "I am pleased with the work of these officers.

As chief of police, I set the tone for the LAPD. In that capacity I have made it quite clear that gay and lesbian officers will not be treated as second-class citizens by anybody under my command."

In fact, the LAPD even has an officer who works as a liaison to the gay and lesbian community. "It's an incredible opportunity to bridge the gap between an institution that has been known for not treating gays and lesbians fairly and a community that has been fearful of it," says Lisa Phillips; 39, the openly lesbian officer who holds the liaison position.


"Being openly gay allows me to stand in the middle and let both sides come together." Still, openly gay police officers are concentrated in urban areas and represent a small percentage of most forces. Today, there are only about 15 openly gay and lesbian sheriff's deputies out of 8,000 in Los Angeles County (which is a separate jurisdiction from that of the Los Angeles Police Department), according to LAPD officer A.J. Rotella, who is president of the Golden State Peace Officers Association. Yet even these small numbers are changing the homophobic ethos of entire departments.

Nearly all gay and lesbian cops have stories to tell about their own experiences with homophobia. The tales range from playful ribbing to the crassest kind of harassment imaginable. Most gay cops will say that they expect--and don't mind--a little good-spirited sexual banter on the job. But when teasing becomes persecution, gay officers, who can be forceful when necessary like most police officers,

increasingly won't tolerate it. Generally, lesbian officers seem to have less difficulty being out than gay men. "It's a lot easier being a lesbian cop than being a gay cop," says openly lesbian Travis County, Tex., sheriff Margo Frasier, who runs the county's 1,200-person sheriff's department. "The occupation is dominated by heterosexual males. There's this bizarre idea that a woman that's a lesbian is somehow one of the guys.


A gay officer is more of a threat to the whole macho mystique. The women in my department are much more open than the guys. There's no concern from the top, so it must come from other officers." Openly lesbian San Francisco police officer Paget Mitchell agrees. "Gay men always have it worse," says Mitchell, whose girlfriend, Susan Nangle, also is a San Francisco police officer. "My [male police] partners love the fact that I'm gay. They can now talk about their girlfriends with you.


They think women are women and gay women are cops." Like many women in law enforcement, Frasier began her career in the corrections department. Before affirmative action it was easier for women to get work in corrections than in police departments because of most states' requirements that female guards supervise women inmates. In many states women prison guards were not allowed to "go to codes"--prisonspeak for handling violent outbreaks--out of concern for their safety. But wardens quickly discovered that, compared to their male counterparts, female officers could often bring different skills to bear on volatile situations.


"We're not afraid to talk our way out of something," says Lt. Lena Van Dyke of New Jersey's Southern State Correctional Facility, who legally changed her last name for humorous effect. "It doesn't always have to be physical. When you've got two men face-to-face, you've got to prove who's the bigger. We can deescalate a situation a lot of times just by talking."

Many lesbian law enforcement officers say they have faced greater obstacles because of their sex rather than their sexual orientation. "I get strange looks sometimes from other sheriffs," says Frasier. "But that has a whole lot more to do with gender. They don't even get past that point to deal with the other issue. I have been the object of some very discriminatory behavior, but it doesn't have anything to do with my sexual orientation."


Today, Frasier is one of just 21 female county sheriffs out of some 3,200 in the country. The feelings of discomfort, however, seem to run much deeper with gay male cops. Before Rotella came out, he says, two officers tormented him relentlessly for eight months. "I had pictures of women with penises and my name on them placed in public settings," he says. "They put up a paper license plate on my truck that said, GAY 4 U."


Rotella says he went to his commander, who dismissed the officers' behavior as juvenile pranks. Rotella met with better results after taking his complaints to higher authorities. One of the offending officers, who was found to have been visiting similar terrors on at least four other officers, was dismissed from the force.


The other was suspended. But even, when the abuse is not so glaring, genuine discomfort with gay men often lurks just beneath a polite veneer. Officer Dave D'Amico, who is the only openly gay cop in the 70-officer Asbury Park, N.J., police force, notes the uneasiness he sees among straight officers when he conducts sensitivity-training classes.


"When you talk to straight men, if they think of two men kissing or making love, they get disgusted to the point where they're ready to throw up," he says. "If it's two women, they think it's a turn-on." LAPD police officer Jim Parker recalls an incident in which a group of straight male officers were chatting pleasantly with a well-respected openly gay officer. "As soon as he walked away, one guy said, `Can you believe a dick goes up that ass?'" Parker says. In the rough-and-tumble world of policing, nothing debunks a stereotype like a bit of heroics.


Last October openly lesbian Atlanta officer Pat Cocciolone was shot in the head at point-blank range responding to a domestic-violence call at the home of Gregory Lawler. Her police partner, John Sowa, was killed. Amazingly, Cocciolone survived and is recovering at home, according to a spokeswoman for the Atlanta police, who adds that Lawler has been charged with Sowa's murder and with aggravated assault on Cocciolone.

Investigators later uncovered a cache of firearms, bomb-making manuals, explosives, and literature on right-wing militia groups in Lawler's apartment. The task force investigating the bombings at Centennial Olympic Park in 1996 and an Atlanta lesbian bar in 1997 is conducting a probe on Lawler. Van Dyke, who is in charge of 63 officers at Southern State prison, recalls how she won the respect of her straight male peers.


"I work in an all-male prison," she says. "There were two guys fighting, and I took one of the guys down. From then on, I had earned mine." A slightly less risky way to put an end to the fag jokes is by court order and seven-figure jury awards. Rotella says he is suing his agency for the alleged incidents of harassment and also for discrimination, because he believes he has been passed over for promotion because he is gay.


The New York chapter of GOAL won the right to recruit officers during the New York City gay pride parade last year in a settlement reached with the department. Many local departments have abandoned the practice of questioning new recruits about their sexual orientation during polygraph tests because the practice violates many states' discrimination laws.


In Miami Beach, Fla., former police officer Peter Zecchini also is going to court. Zecchini says he experienced every cop's nightmare when--on five separate occasions in the early '90s--fellow officers refused to respond to emergency-backup calls. "Every policeman in the city is supposed to drop whatever they're doing and get over there if an officer needs emergency assistance," Zecchini told The Miami Herald.


"I was scared to death." If incidents like these could happen in a gay mecca like Miami Beach, such fears are exponentially greater among gay officers in rural and suburban areas, so the majority of gay cops in these areas remain closeted. Dave, 25, who had been out since high school, felt, compelled to go back in the closet when he made a career change and became a sheriff's deputy in an affluent Denver suburb. "It's extremely stressful," he says. "People make comments about gays that are not correct.


I'd like to stand up for myself. But I don't want to put myself in the position where one day I'm relying on one of these deputies to back me up and they don't come because I'm gay. This career depends on a team atmosphere. At this point I don't want to do that to myself." Many officers have adopted an informal "don't ask, don't tell" policy on the issue of their sexual orientation. Parker does nothing to conceal being gay, but because of his macho bearing many of his heterosexual peers assume he is straight.


Such unwarranted assumptions can lead to hilarious consequences. "My boyfriend is a cop too, and we've gone on patrol together," says Parker. "It's just really funny." Parker says he intends to remain closeted (although this story may open the door a little) until he has proved himself to other officers on the force. Most gay officers would agree with Parker's strategy. They say it's best to prove your mettle first and come out only after you are entrenched in the system, with allies to back you up. Officer Michael P. Carney, who joined the Springfield, Mass., police department in 1979, left the department in 1989 after a personal struggle with his sexual orientation led to heavy drinking and extreme depression.


After coming out Carney yearned to return to the career he loved so passionately. During his reinstatement hearing with the police commission, he came out to his interviewers. And despite a spotless record, the commission rejected his application three times. The day after Carney filed a complaint with the Massachusetts Commission Against Discrimination in 1992, his picture and his coming-out story were splashed across the front page of the local newspaper.


"That morning I received over a hundred phone calls from people I knew from high school, friends I hung out with, and officers I'd worked with," Carney says. "Everyone was calling me in support of me--not one negative thing.... Everybody was on my side." The commission eventually found "probable cause" that the Springfield Police Department had violated Carney's civil rights.


The police department agreed to reinstate him, though it refused to admit that it was guilty of any wrongdoing. Today, Carney works for the Springfield police chief and in November was a guest at the White House Conference on Hate Crimes, during which he met President Clinton. D'Amico had been working for eight years in the New Jersey prison system before an incident gave him the courage to come out to his colleagues. "One day I was sitting in the officers' dining room," says D'Amico. "There was an inmate who walked by who was extremely thin and feminine in his characteristics.


He was HIV-positive. A very good friend of mine said, `Look at the faggot. All faggots should die of AIDS.' That angered me so much inside. It set something off. So I came out before a lineup, which was in front of 62 men and my lieutenant. I told everyone that I was gay and that if anyone had a problem with it that they could come talk to me. They thought it was a practical joke. They didn't believe it.


So I had a party with my lover. Seven straight cops came. I had to kiss my lover on the lips for them to believe that I was gay." D'Amico says he hasn't suffered any negative consequences from coming out, though several straight officers have tried unsuccessfully to convert him to heterosexuality. Even in rural areas a few trailblazers like prison officer Van Dyke are finding a surprising degree of acceptance after coming out.


"When we got married I had a reception here in town, and I had quite a few officers and their spouses," she recalls. "We have 100 houses in the town we live in. It's not like living in the city. These guys ride around with guns in their pickup trucks. We're real redneck. For them to accept me and to bring their wives and husbands, knowing what they were going to find--a lesbian marriage and a lesbian reception--is fantastic.


I'm accepted for my lifestyle and my partner the same way that anybody else is." The act of coming out for gay and lesbian officers is primarily about being able to be as open about their personal lives as their straight counterparts. In most cases they don't see their sexual orientation as relevant to their law-and-order duties. "When I'm at work I turn off my sexuality," says Rotella. "I'm there to do the job. The fact that I'm gay has nothing to do with my performance on the job. I don't wear a rainbow flag or pink triangle on my uniform that would denote me as a gay man."


There are, of course, occasions when an openly gay cop is better-suited than a straight one to tackle certain cases. In cities with large gay populations, police chiefs often find it preferable to have openly gay cops work on gay-bashing incidents and domestic-violence cases between same-sex partners.


"Gay people who I deal with out on patrol stereotype the police as being fascists," says Parker. "I have had gay guys say, `You wouldn't understand,' when I go to fights between them." When Parker reveals that he is gay, he says, the confidence level of the other party immediately increases. When the roles are reversed and gays and lesbians are themselves the perpetrators of crimes, most gay cops feel little sympathy. They believe that crimes like public sex and drug use in dance clubs should be prosecuted just like any other.


"The law is the law," stays Rotella. "I think that the [gay and lesbian] community should start taking responsibility and start discussing why some are in bathrooms playing around in the first place." In fact, most police departments require their officers to report any crime they see--on or off duty. "Our job is 24 hours," says Carney. "When I see something, I act on it. If that results in an arrest, then that's my job, and that's what I'm going to do. I might be helping somebody by locking them up.


I'm not going to enable somebody by looking the other way." Other officers take a less involved approach. "I'm not going to save the world," says one cop, who wanted to remain anonymous. "If I saw someone doing drugs, I would get away from it. None of my friends do drugs. But sometimes they'll introduce me to someone who does. They know immediately to tell their friends not to do it around me.


If I saw someone with a whole bag of crystal or K, that would be different." Scott Ouellette, a 33-year-old reserve officer in Los Angeles and Parker's boyfriend, also finds the prevalence of drugs in some gay circles a problem. "Walking the thin blue line in a world of circuit parties and drugs is the greatest challenge for me, says Ouellette, who enjoys attending dance parties but is reminded that he is always on duty.

Although much progress has been made in police departments in the past few years, change comes grudgingly. But the bravery of a handful of gay and lesbian cops in departments across the country means that local police forces will at least be forced to take a hard look at discrimination and harassment laws that apply elsewhere in the country.


Today's young recruits bring a more sophisticated worldview to their jobs than most of their predecessors, and that includes respect for gays and lesbians. Just ask Officer Carney, who had to return to the police academy, which he had originally attended 16 years earlier, as a condition of his reinstatement in 1994. Though he was a student, Carney was asked to teach the sensitivity and hate-crimes classes.


He took the opportunity to come out to his class. The fallout? Carney was so popular with his classmates that they elected him sergeant at arms. "I had a blast," Carney recalls. "I'm out as a gay police officer with a bunch of 19-year-old recruits. They were all great. They all looked up to me. It really blew me away." Carney, then 34, went on to break the police academy record for the 1.5-meter run. At graduation he won a physical training award.

"Most of the recruits who graduated with me went to the captain and asked to work with me in the car because they wanted to learn from someone with experience," Carney says. "That's what this job is about. It's not about who you are. It's about working together as a team. So many things have happened for the better since I've come out. It's hard to look back now and see how many years I was so miserable."


Edgar Rodriguez Age: 37 Rank: Sergeant City: New York "In a country where the suicide rate is highest among gay and lesbian youths, being a visible gay police officers makes you a real-life role model and a symbol of hope." Michael P. Carney Age: 37 Rank: Officer, liaison to the chief of police City: Springfield, Mass. Philosophy: "Being a police officer is my whole life; being gay is just a small part of me."


Jim Parker and partner, Scott Ouellette Ages: 35, 33 Ranks: Officer, reserve officer City: Los Angeles Parker's philosophy: "Sometimes the stereotypes of people in the gay community--thinking that all cops are straight--affect me more than any discrimination I face at work." Noah Hargett Age: 36 Rank: Probation officer City: Newburg, N.Y. Philosophy: "I try to be fair to everyone, but it's hard when you see gays guys come through the system, because you know that they are going to get picked on."


Margo Frasier Age: 44 Rank: Sheriff, Travis County, Tex. City: Austin "If you can tell my sexual orientation by how I carry out my duties as sheriff, then I do have a problem.


" Lena Van Dyke Age: 47 Rank: Lieutenant, South State Correctional Facility City: Heislerville, N.J. Philosophy: "If you are out in your department, your department is going to be more aware of the homosexual community when they are dealing with it."


Anthony Crespo Age: 32 Rank: Officer City: New York Philosophy: "It's important for people to come out and be who they are so that they can be role models to the youth and others in the community."


Dave D'Amico Age: 27 Rank: Officer City: Asbury Park, N.J. Philosophy: "Being an openly gay police officer, I'm committed to serving the gay community as a positive role model. We need more professionals who are not afraid to stand up and say, `I'm gay.'"


Mike Robinson Age: 29 Rank: Officer City: San Francisco "It's not a job that you take for the money. It's a calling for people who want to help other in the community."


Paget Mithell Age: 33 Rank: Officer City: San Francisco "Because I can be myself at work, I am able to concentrate on the business of policing and enjoy a healthy and happy relationship at home."


Susan Nangle Age: 28 Rank: Officer City: San Francisco "I am lucky enough to work in a city where being gay is a nonissue. Because of this, work is work, and my private life is my own."


Gay and lesbian cops are everywhere--even in cyberspace. Here are some Web sites for people who are already on the force and for those thinking about joining.


NYPD Pride Alliance Representing the interests of lesbians and gay men in blue of the New York City Police Department, the alliance maintains this site, which provides the group's mission statement and by-laws as well as links to other gay police groups.

Golden State Peace Officers Association of Southern California This site features a whimsical graphic of a pair of pigs jumping for joy and tips members off to the annual "Pigs in Paradise" weekend getaway in the resort town of Palm Springs, Calif.

Lesbian and Gay Police Association Representing gay law enforcement personnel in the United Kingdom, this site includes links for suggested reading and other references. Gay Officers' Action League The official site of GOAL New York, the first chapter in what has now become an unofficial network of GOAL groups around the country.Gay Cops, the book Two reviews of the book Gay Cops by Stephen Leinen.

The 1993 book is the result of a decade's worth of interviews with gay men and lesbians who wear the badge.


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Reply with quote  #42 

The sauna, a police sex slave raid... and the sheriff who just popped in for a shave; Father-of-two suspended after being found wearing nothing but a towel.

The Daily Mail (London, England); 9/10/2004


A SHERIFF suspended from duty amid an investigation into his 'fitness for office' was found in a sauna at the centre of a police probe into prostitution and human trafficking.

Hugh Neilson, 51, was wearing only a towel when officers raided the controversial Royale sauna in Glasgow - and is said to have told police he was only there to 'have a shave'.

The sauna was raided by police in connection with claims that girls working there were sex slaves from the Far East.

It is understood two men involved in running saunas in the city are due in Glasgow Sheriff Court today.

Many saunas in and around the city have been raided by police and several have been closed down.

Sheriff Neilson, a father-of-two, was in the Royale in the Charing Cross district when it was raided two months ago as part of a series of police swoops on saunas across Glasgow.

Human trafficking involves gangsters recruiting girls, usually from the Far East and Eastern Europe, to work as prostitutes.

They are lured to the UK with the promise of employment and accommodation then find themselves working in the sex trade and unable to escape.

Two years ago, police pledged to stamp out human trafficking from Scotland's sex industry.

Illegal immigrants from countries such as Romania, Thailand and Kosovo were said to be involved at that time.

In the latest raid, Sheriff Neilson, who earns £119,000 a year, was not arrested because he was not doing anything illegal.

The sheriff, who was suspended on Wednesday, said earlier this week: 'It's a bit of a personal crisis for me and my family. All I can say is I have the love and support of those who mean most to me.' At their [pounds sterling]500,000 detached sandstone home in Airdrie, Lanarkshire, last night, his wife Elizabeth declined to comment.

The sheriff, who is based at Hamilton Sheriff Court, presides over Scotland's pilot youth court.

He was suspended on full pay with immediate effect by Justice Minister Cathy Jamieson and is only the third sheriff to be suspended since 1945.

He was dealing with cases at the court when he was told shortly after lunchtime to clear his desk and go home.

If Ministers decide to sack him, the order would have to be formally approved by the Scottish parliament.

The highly unusual move came following a recommendation from Scotland's two most senior judges, Lord Cullen, the Lord President, and Lord Gill, the Lord Justice Clerk, who will undertake the investigation.

They will report to Mrs Jamieson, who could make an order to have the sheriff removed from office if he is found unfit 'by reason of inability, neglect of duty or misbehaviour'.

The Scottish Executive has said officials will not comment on the circumstances of his suspension until the inquiry is complete.

Sheriff Neilson is one of the most experienced sheriffs in Scotland and is popular with both procurators fiscal and defence lawyers.

However, he sparked controversy in August 2001 when he allowed a sex offender to walk free from court.

He sentenced Ronald McPherson, 46, to two years' probation for a sickening two-hour attack on a 38-year-old mother-of-two, who described the sentence 'a disgrace'.

In 1999, he allowed a car thief to be freed from his electronic tagging bracelet on a Saturday night so he could take his girlfriend out.

The sheriff said he believed the love of a 'good woman can be something of a turning point'.

Sheriff Neilson is a member of the Glasgow Bar Association and sits on the board of the Church of Scotland Presbytery of Hamilton.

He was influential in the establishmentof the youth court pilot scheme at Hamilton Sheriff Court and was chairman of the Scottish Executive Youth Court Feasibility Group.

The last sheriff to be dismissed was Ewen Stewart, who presided at Wick for nearly 30 years. He was suspended then sacked in 1992 after a series of complaints about his conduct.

He was dismissed for interrupting evidence - after doing so more than 100 times one day - for ill-treating witnesses and criticising lawyers.

Peter Thomson was sacked as sheriff in 1977 for campaigning for a plebiscite on home rule, a political activity seen as incompatible with judicial office.

A spokesman for the Executive Justice Department said: ' Ministers will make no further comment on the suspension, or the circumstances leading to it, until the investigation is concluded.

'Ministers may ultimately have a formal legal role in such procedures and it would be inappropriate to have made public comment at an earlier stage.'


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Reply with quote  #43 

Hi Admin2. That article gave me a laugh. So Sheriff Neilson was only there 'for a shave' but found wearing only a towel. Perhaps he was in for the Full Monty hair removal offer of the week.


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Reply with quote  #44 

Indeed Magpie and by all accounts it was a close shave! as the hairs on his a**e was giving him some irritation


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Reply with quote  #45 

Monday, 20 March 2006


Police suspended over naked snaps
Naked art
Close-up shots of volunteers are being touted
Two civilian police staff on Tyneside have been suspended as part of an inquiry into the suspected touting of illicit photographs of a naked artwork.

The close-up pictures are believed to have been taken from closed circuit TV footage of the work of American photo artist Spencer Tunick.

About 1,500 volunteers shed their clothes for a shoot taken at sunrise on the banks of the River Tyne last July.

Police are investigating reports of snapshots being offered in pubs.

A series of official Tunick pictures have formed the centrepiece of an exhibition, which has proved popular at Gateshead's Baltic arts centre, over the last two months.

'Robust action'

Northumbria Police Deputy Chief Constable, David Warcup, said the force was investigating a complaint into the "possible misuse of CCTV footage".

He said: "If there is found to be any substance in these allegations we will take prompt and robust action. This is not the standard of behaviour expected from anyone employed by Northumbria Police.

"We have worked extremely hard over the years to ensure that the public can have confidence in the way in which we manage CCTV and we are determined that confidence will not be undermined, either now or in the future."

Last summer's shoot was Tunick's largest "installation" in the country and included zookeepers, postmen, midwives and a vicar.

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