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L.A.P.D. CAPTAIN CHARGED WITH SEXUAL
MISCONDUCT RESIGNS
Maura Bannon
Staff Writer
A Los Angeles police captain, accused of having sexual relations with several underage female Police Scouts while on duty, resigned today after a police disciplinary board recommended dismissal.
The three-member Board of Rights panel ordered Cyril Leon Trapp, 45, terminated immediately from duty and recommended retroactive loss of all L.A.P.D. pensions, benefits and privileges. In accordance with what both Trapp’s attorney and a police spokesman described as a negotiated settlement, Trapp agreed to register as a sex offender, forfeit appeal of the board’s decision, sign an affidavit agreeing never again to work in law enforcement, and pay “substantial financial restitution, including full fees for medical and psychiatric treatment” to his victims, suspected of numbering over a dozen. In exchange, no criminal charges are being filed, an alternative which theoretically could have included indictments for statutory rape, narcotics abuse, sexual abuse of a minor and multiple misdemeanors.
The offenses to which Trapp pleaded no contest, took place over a five-year period during which he served as a sergeant in the department’s Hollywood Division, and may have continued while he was a lieutenant at the Ramparts Division and at the West Los Angeles Division, where he was promoted to captain, last year, following the sudden heart attack death of the previous captain, Robert L. Rogers.
While at Hollywood, Trapp’s name also surfaced in connection with the burglary scandal in which police officers broke rear windows of stores and warehouses on their patrols, tripping burglar alarms, then notified the police dispatcher that they were handling the call. The officers proceeded to loot the premises, using police cruisers to cart away stolen goods, then filed false burglary reports. No charges were filed against Trapp, who was characterized by prosecutors, at that time, as a “cooperative witness.”
With regard to the current case, Trapp was accused of luring female scouts into his office under the guise of offering “career guidance,” plying them with beer, wine, “premixed, canned cocktails,” and marijuana before making sexual advances. Allegations of fondling were made in thirteen cases, with actual intercourse believed to have taken place with at least seven girls, ages 15 to 17. Though the Board of Rights refused to specify what led to the investigation of Trapp, a police source reports that one of the victims experienced emotional problems due to the molestation, was taken for counseling, and revealed to her therapist what had happened. The therapist then informed the Department of Social Services, who contacted the L.A.P.D.
Corroboration of the charges was received from several other victims. However, none of the girls was willing to testify in court, leading the District Attorney’s office to conclude that successful criminal prosecution of Trapp was “unlikely.”
When it was suggested that the settlement constituted a slap on the wrist for an individual who could have been sentenced to a substantial jail term, the board chairman, Cmdr. Walter D. Smith, said, “The Department wants to make it very clear that it will not tolerate sexual misconduct of any sort on the part of any officer, no matter how high-ranking. However, we are also sensitive to the emotional needs of victims and couldn’t force these girls into the psychological trauma of testifying. The board’s action today guarantees that this officer will never again work in law enforcement and will lose every cent he has earned as a police officer. To me that sounds like a pretty good deal.”
Trapp’s attorney, Thatcher Friston, refused to divulge his client’s future plans, other than to say that the disgraced officer is “expected to leave the state, maybe even the country, to work in agriculture. Mr. Trapp’s always been interested in poultry farming. Now perhaps he’ll have a chance to try it.”
I read it once more, tore it out of the paper, and folded it into a paper airplane. When I finally landed the plane in the toilet, I left the motel.
I went home, felt like a new tenant, if not a new man. Was sitting down at my desk ready to plow through accumulated papers when a knock sounded at the front door.
I opened it. Milo came in, wearing his police ID tag on the lapel of a brown suit that reeked of squad-room smoke, glaring at me under black brows, his big face clouded.
“Where the hell have you been?”
“Out.”
“Out where?”
“I don’t want to get into it right now.”
“Get into it anyway.”
I didn’t speak.
He said, “Jesus! You were supposed to be making a few calls—doing the safe stuff, remember? Instead you disappear. Haven’t you learned a goddamned thing!”
“Sorry, Mom.” Then, when I saw the look on his face: “I did do the safe stuff, Milo. Then I disappeared. I left a message with my service.”
“Right. Very comforting.” He pinched his nose. “ ‘Dr. Delaware will be out for a couple of da-ays.’ ” Unpinch:
“ ‘Where to, honey?’ ” Pinch. “ ‘He didn’t sa-ay.’ ”
I said, “I needed to get away. I’m fine. I was never in danger.”
He swore, punched his palm, tried to use his height to advantage by looming over me. I went back into the library and he followed me there, digging deep in his coat pocket and pulling out a crumpled piece of newsprint.
As he started to unfold it, I said, “Saw it already.”
“I’ll bet you have.” He leaned on the desk. “How, Alex? How the fuck?”
“Not now,” I said.
“What, all of a sudden it’s let’s-play-hide-and-seek time?”
“I just don’t want to get into it right now.”
“Bye-bye, Cyril,” he said, to the ceiling. “For the first time in my life, wishes come true—it’s like I’ve got this goddamned genie. Problem is, I don’t know what he looks like, who or what to rub.”
“Can’t you just accept good fortune? Kick back and enjoy?”
“I like making my own fortune.”
“Make an exception.”
“Could you?”
“I hope so.”
“Come on, Alex, what the hell’s going on? One minute we’re talking theory; the next, Trapp’s neck-deep in shit and the speedboats are revving.”
“Trapp’s a very small part of it,” I said. “I just don’t want to paint the whole picture right now.”
He stared at me, went into the kitchen and came back with a carton of milk and a stale bagel. Tearing off a chunk of bagel and washing it down, he finally said, “Temporary reprieve, pal. But some day—soon—we’re gonna have ourselves a little sit-down.”
“There’s nothing to sit down about, Milo. It’s like an expert once told me, no evidence, nothing real.”
He held the stare a while longer before his face softened.
“Okay,” he said. “I get it. No neat wrap-up. Case of the law-enforcement blue balls: You were angling for a love affair with Little Miss Justice, found you couldn’t go all the way. But hell, you handled that kind of thing in high school, should be able to handle it now that you’re all grown up.”
“I’ll let you know when I’m all grown up.”
“Screw you, Peter Pan.” Then: “How’re you doing, Alex? Seriously.”
“Good.”
“All things considered.”
I nodded.
“You look,” he said, “as if you’ve been considering lots of things.”
“Just tuning up the system … Milo, I appreciate that you care, appreciate all the things you’ve done for me. Right now I could really use being alone.”
“Yeah, right,” he said.
“See you later.”
He left without another word.
Robin came home the next day, wearing a dress I’d never seen before and the look of a first-grader about to recite in front of the class. I accepted her embrace, then asked her what had brought her back.
“You’re not happy to see me,” she said.<
br />
“I am. You took me by surprise.” I carried her suitcase into the living room.
She said, “I was thinking of coming down anyway.” Slipping her arm through mine. “I missed you, really wanted to talk to you last night and called. The operator at the service said you’d gone away without telling anyone where or for how long. She said you’d sounded different, tired and angry—‘cussing like a trucker.’ I was worried.”
“Charity time,” I said, stepping back.
She looked at me as if for the first time.
I said, “I’m sorry, but right at this moment, I’m not going to be the man you want.”
“I’ve pushed it too far,” she said.
“No. It’s just that I’ve had to do a lot of thinking. Long overdue.”
She blinked hard, her eyes got wet, and she turned away. “Shit.”
I said, “Some of it has to do with you; a lot of it doesn’t. I know you want to take care of me—know that’s important to you. But right now I’m not ready for that, couldn’t accept it in a way that would give you what you want.”
She slumped, sat down on the couch.
I sat facing her, said, “That’s not anger speaking. Maybe some of it is, but it’s not that simple. There are some things I need to work out for myself. Time I have to take.”
She blinked some more, put on a smile that looked so painful, she might have just carved it in her flesh. “Who am I to complain about that?”
“No,” I said, “this isn’t about revenge. There’s nothing to take revenge for—in the end, you did me a favor.”
“Glad to oblige,” she said. The tears began to flow, but she staunched them. “No, I won’t do that—you deserve better than that. Don’t do the crime if you can’t do the time, right?”
I extended my hand. She shook her head, bit her lip.
“There was another man,” she said. “Nothing serious—old flame from college, coffee and pie. I nipped it in the bud. But it came so close. I still feel I’ve betrayed you.”
I said, “I’ve betrayed you too.”
She gave a low moan and closed her eyes. “Who?”
“Old flame from college.”
“Is she … Are you still …”
“No, it’s not like that, never was like that. She captured my head, not my cock. Now she’s gone forever. But it changed me.”
She walked to the end of the room, folded her arms over her breasts and said nothing for a while. Then: “Alex, what’s going to become of us?”
“I don’t know. A happy ending would be nice. But I have a ways to go before I’m going to be much use to you—to anyone.”
“I like you just the way you are.”
“Like you, too,” I said, so automatically that it made both of us laugh.
She faced me. I extended my hand. She came back, looked up at me. We touched, merged, began undressing each other wordlessly, fell back on the couch and made love there. Made sex. Competent, seamless union born of practice and ritual, so seamless it verged on incestuous.
When it was over, she sat up and said, “It’s not going to be that easy, is it?”
I shook my head. “What is that’s worthwhile?”
She peeled away from me, got up, stood in front of the picture window. Backlit, naked, curls hanging down her back like a cluster of grapes.
“The shop’s probably a godawful mess,” she said. “Messages slipped under the door, all those backed-up orders.”
“Go ahead,” I said. “Do what you need to do.”
She turned, ran back to me, lay on me, sobbed on my chest. We stayed together, cheek to cheek, before the restlessness set in, then went our separate ways.
Sharon. Kruse. The Ratman. Even Larry. Enough problems between us to fill a textbook.
Alone again, I thought of mine, all the unfinished business. I dealt with it by taking the easy way out: found a number in my Rolodex and dialed.
Fourth ring: “Hello?”
“Mrs. Burkhalter? Denise? This is Dr. Delaware.”
“Oh. Hi.”
“If this is a bad time—”
“No, no, it’s … I’m … It’s funny, I was just thinking of you. Darren’s still, uh, crying a lot.”
“Some of that can be expected.”
“Actually,” she said, “he’s crying more. Lots. Since the last time he saw you. And not sleeping or eating right.”
“Has anything changed since the last time I saw you?”
“Just the money—though I can’t feel that yet. It’s not real. I mean, Mr. Worthy says it could take months for it to come in. Meanwhile, we’re still getting bank letters and my husband’s insurance company is still dragging their damned … Why am I going on like this? That’s not what you want to hear about.”
“I want to hear anything you want to tell me about.”
Pause. “I’m real sorry. About the way I ran my mouth at you.”
“That’s okay. You’ve been through plenty.”
“Isn’t that the truth. From day one—” Her voice broke. “I keep going on about other stuff, and it’s my baby I’m all shook about—crying and yelling and hitting at me, not wanting to know me like he used to. Meanwhile, all the waiting. No one’s around. I don’t know what to do—I just don’t understand why all this is happening.”
Another pause, this one mine. Therapeutic.
She sniffled through it.
I said, “I’m sorry, Denise. I wish I could take away your pain.”
“Take it and stuff it in a bag and drop it in the sewer,” she said. “Take everyone’s.”
“Wouldn’t that be something.”
“Yeah.” Small laugh. “What should I do, Doc? With Darren.”
“Has he been playing—the way he played in my office?”
“That’s the thing,” she said. “He won’t. I give him the cars and tell him what to do, but he just looks at them and starts screaming.”
“If you’d like to bring him in, I’d be happy to see him,” I said. “Or if the drive’s too long, I can refer you to someone closer.”
“No, no, that was all … It’s not too far. What else do I have to do all day but drive, anyway?”
“Then by all means come,” I said. “I can see you tomorrow, first thing.”
“Yeah, that would be great.”
We made an appointment.
She said, “You’re a nice man. You really know how to help a person.”
That shored me up enough to make my second call.
Five minutes to twelve. Lunch break.
“Dr. Small.”
“Hi, Ada. It’s Alex. Brown-bagging it?”
“Cottage cheese and fruit,” she said. “Battle of the bulge. Listen, I’m glad you called. I tried to reach Carmen Seeber, but her line’s been disconnected and there’s no record of a new one.”
“This isn’t about her,” I said. “It’s about me.”
Her therapeutic pause.
The damned things worked. I said, “A lot’s been piling up. I thought if you thought it would be appropriate for me to come in …”
“I’m always happy to see you, Alex,” she said. “Do you have any concerns about the appropriateness of it?”
“Not at all. No, that’s not true. I guess I do. Things have changed between us. It’s hard slipping out of the colleague role, admitting helplessness.”
“You’re far from helpless, Alex. Just insightful enough to know you’re not invulnerable.”
“Insightful.” I laughed. “Far from it.”
“You called, didn’t you? Alex, I understand what you’re saying—shifting roles must seem like a step backward. But I certainly don’t see it that way.”
“I appreciate your saying that.”
“I’m saying it because it’s true. However, if you have doubts, I can refer you to someone else.”
“Start over? No, I wouldn’t want that.”
“Would you like some time to think it over?”
“No, no. I might as we
ll dive in, before I figure out some way to build up my defenses again.”
“All right, it’s settled then. Let me check my book.” The sound of flipping pages. “How about tomorrow at six? The office will be quiet—you won’t run into anyone you’ve referred.”
“Six would be great, Ada. See you then.”
“I’m looking forward to it, Alex.”
“Me too. ’Bye.”
“Alex?”
“Yes?”
“It’s a very good thing you’re doing.”
This one’s for Bob Elias.
Special thanks to
Steve Rubin, Beverly Lewis,
Stuart Vener,
David Aftergood, and Al Katz
MORE PRAISE FOR
JONATHAN KELLERMAN
AND HIS ALEX DELAWARE
NOVELS
Silent Partner
“A complex and haunting story of tangled personalities, deeply buried family secrets, and of violence lying thinly under the surface.”
—Los Angeles Times Book Review
“A most intriguing read … compelling.”
—New York Daily News
Time Bomb
“Though a time bomb is ticking away at the heart of this novel, readers will forget to watch the clock once they begin it.”
—Chicago Sun-Times
“Virtually impossible to put aside until the final horrifying showdown.”
—People
Private Eyes
“A page-turner from beginning to end.”
—Los Angeles Times
“Spellbinding suspense … Unforgettable.”
—Houston Chronicle
Bad Love
“Bad Love will have you looking over your shoulder before you turn out the lights.”
—Detroit Free Press
“By the end I was fairly racing through the pages.”
—Los Angeles Times
Self-Defense
“Exciting … loaded with tension and packed with titillating insights.”
—The New York Times Book Review
Four Classic Alex Delaware Thrillers 4-Book Bundle Page 48