Broken Badges: Cases from Police Internal Affairs Files

by Lou Reiter

  “I heard rumblings about that even here in Utah. Those Blue Gravediggers came from a couple small towns south of Provo in the valley. Just heard rumors, though. Not good guys, those cops. Just some wild ass cowboys in blue. You know what I mean, Butch?”

  “Know the type, Sal.”

  “You had any recent narco investigations involving the Outlaws or associates in the Park City area?”

  Sal was silent for a few moments. “We have. A couple weeks ago one of our snitches turned us on to a group selling coke in Park City. She said they were getting their shit from the Outlaws. We found a local user who we eventually flipped. Got him with a couple of grams of coke in his pocket. Flipped him to do a controlled buy from one of the major dealers in Park City. When we took down the dealer, he sold out his contact that happened to be with the Utah branch of the Outlaws. We tried to set up an operation to take them down, but couldn’t pull it off, at least not yet.”

  “This snitch, Sal, did she say anything about working with those cops from Provo?”

  Sal paused again. “No, why do you ask?”

  “Just looking for a connection between your Outlaws and the ones who got wasted in Juanita Springs.”

  “Say, now that you mention it, the dealer we took down said something about a fresh load coming in soon. He didn’t know much more than that although my guys really pressed him. Never thought about pressing our snitch, though. Give me a day or two, Butch, and I’ll get back with you.”

  *****

  It happened that the task force snitch was due to meet with her handlers for payment. Since her information was good and the arrest of the low level Park City dealer happened, she earned the $300 snitch fee. Sal told his investigators he’d like to sit in when they made the payment and debriefed her. They arranged to meet at the Waffle House halfway between Provo and Park City.

  Sylvia Rivas had been a snitch for several narcotic units. Most didn’t know that she was working with other units. This would have been a definite no-no had the word gotten out.

  When a snitch, or informant, works for more than one agency, things are ripe for a conflict. Units might end up confronting each other, thinking the other was the dealer and should be taken down. Tragically, friendly fire shootings have occurred throughout the country when this scenario happens.

  Sylvia was a waitress, hotel housekeeper, and, when the occasion presented itself, prostitute. She had fucked more than her share of cops as well, particularly a cop in the valley who called himself Big Mouth.

  Sylvia had really pissed him off one day when she asked if he got that moniker ‘cuz he could suck big cock. She thought he was going to kill her, but surprisingly, his rage turned to laughter. He said that he was called Big Mouth because he could get his mouth over her snatch and asshole at the same time.

  At one time, Sylvia might have been very attractive. But, limitless sex and drugs had aged her although she still had the muscle tone of an athlete. She was small and underweight. Her skin was deeply tanned from sunbathing nude on the roof of her garage. She picked the Waffle House for the meet, as it was “her people’s place,” one not filled with the typical Park City crowd.

  “Sylvia, you look as ravaging as ever, girl. When you and me gonna get it on?” one of Sal’s investigators asked.

  “In your dreams, big boy. Oh, maybe you don’t sleep unless you got a coffin! You ever get out in the sun to cure your pasty face? You got my money?”

  “We do, but our boss wants to talk first. You okay with that? He’s good, girl. We need to help him out now and then. He pulls the budget strings, you know.”

  Sylvia glanced over at Sal. He looked just like the rest of the cops. It seemed they all wanted to look like Mickey Rourke or another punch drunk fighter. Sal appeared a lot older than her handlers. He didn’t have the tats most of the younger cops sported with pride. Her personal handler had both arms sleeved with ornate tattoos.

  “Sure. No problem, unless it’s something I don’t want to get involved in.”

  “Sylvia, I hear you’re a great source of info for my guys,” Sal began. You give them honest shit. That’s a rarity today considering most of the informants we work with regularly.”

  Sal was purposefully trying to build Sylvia’s image and make her feel good about what she was doing. Most of the time snitches give information only for the money or to get back at someone they want to hurt.

  “What ya’ want?”

  “What you hear ‘bout the Outlaws being the pipeline for the coke up in Park City?”

  Sylvia shifted her eyes to her handler and then back to Sal. “Don’t know anything about the Outlaws. Nasty bunch. Treat their women like shit. They can really fuck you up.”

  “Sylvia,” her handler said in a hushed tone, “help Sal out. Help me out. Come on now, girl.”

  Sylvia bit her lower lip nervously. “I guess I hear a little. I fuck a lot and I hear shit. I fuck for money. I fuck for information. Information is money for me.”

  “You fuck just for fun sometimes?” the second narc suddenly piped in. Sal shot him a beady-eyed stare.

  “Sorry,” he responded, eyes down.

  Sylvia flipped him a finger. “I heard some stuff. The local chapter gets their shit from chapters in California and Colorado. They have a couple members who don’t look like bikers. No tats like you; look more like your boss here. Don’t want to draw attention when they bring in a haul or are holding the money, you know? Heard they were expecting to do one a couple of weeks ago, but it got held up for some reason. Next thing, the flow started up again. The dealers I know in Park City said the Outlaws were pissed they had to buy their junk from another source in the valley. Don’t know much more than that. You guys gonna pay me for that info?”

  “We’ll look the other way about you dealing with other agencies. You know that’s against the informant agreement you signed with us. You’re not supposed to be working with other units. You’ve made about two grand the last couple of years from our funds, so don’t blow it,” Sal warned. “You ever give this info to anyone else by chance?”

  Sylvia started biting her lip again and closed her eyes, “Maybe.”

  “Be more specific, young lady,” Sal ordered.

  “I might have mentioned it to a cop I fuck now and then.”

  “He got a name?”

  “All I know him as is Big Mouth. Don’t make me explain why he uses that name. I might have said something to him. I give him info now and then so he looks the other way when I turn tricks in his town.”

  “Which is where?”

  “Spring Valley.”

  “Sylvia, we’ll put in a chit for another C note for you,” Sal said as he stretched out of the booth. “By the way, you hear anything about the Outlaws who were supposed to be picking up the load of shit? The steriles? You know, the bikers with no tats and no records. The ones they use out front so’s not to create any suspicions. Know what I mean?”

  “Nope, them guys seems to just dropped off the face of the earth. Sal, I like you. You can come back. Don’t bring these pussies with you the next time.” Sylvia smiled, playing the hell out of her regular handlers.

  When Sal got back to his office he contacted the Bureau’s Special Investigation Section. This group dealt with gang enforcement in addition to handling other investigations.

  “Your unit hear anything about Outlaws going missing in the last couple of days?” After a negative response, Sal asked, “You guys know anything about a police group calling themselves the Blue Gravediggers?”

  “Oh, yeah! Think they’re a big biker gang when they ride their bikes wearing their make-believe colors. I’m surprised they haven’t got their asses kicked by the real Outlaws. But it’s just a group of cops out of two or three valley cop shops. I think a couple might be out of Spring Valley. Maybe Rolling Hills, as well. Come to think of it, we did get information about a couple of them tangling with the Denver Outlaws and it ended up in some kind of shootout. Think one of the cops, the one who got sh
ot, was a captain from Rolling Hills. I think we’ve got a file on that cop biker group somewhere. Want me to find it and send it to you?”

  “I’d appreciate that. I’ve got info saying some of the Outlaws from this area have gone missing. I know you said you weren’t aware of that, but what’s the real story you suppose?”

  “Okay, but this is off the record. The Outlaws have members they refer to as “sterile” members. Got no criminal records, no tats, ride only production models, and never wear the gang’s colors. Now I can’t tell you how I know this or where it comes from, you understand? Anyway, a couple steriles went missing a few weeks ago. About the time a load of coke was due to hit the market up in the mountains. The guys just vanished along with the cash they were taking for the transaction. I understand it was a couple hundred Gs. Got word that the coke suddenly reappeared and was offered for ten cents on the dollar. About 80 thou. Some cops in the valley came up with the coke, but none of the money. Outlaws paid, but I figure they’re getting ready to do some payback!”

  “Thanks for the ‘off the record’ info,” Sal said. He was pretty sure the information was coming from one of the unit’s deep undercover operators. It was too good.

  *****

  Butch Reynolds phoned Taylor and told him that he had some interesting information after making inquiries. He suggested they set up a conference call so everyone involved would get the same material without filtering it through several minds and assumptions.

  Taylor was able to get Chief Clyde and Rachel Mendez together in her office. Butch recounted the information he had received from Utah.

  “Where’s the case now, if there is a case?” Taylor asked.

  “My contact reached out to the Utah Attorney General. That office, of course, is very interested since this could involve public corruption and a couple different police agencies in the state. I think they’re hesitant to go much further until they get the information you Colorado folks have. You’ve got hard evidence. Utah has two missing bikers, maybe, an informant, and third-hand circumstantial evidence of possible drug dealing by cops. Now, if it all comes together, it might be something the Utah AG could work on.”

  “Butch, this is Rachel talking. I’m with the DA’s office in Gunnison. You think my office could be influential with the Utah people?”

  “Don’t know. I’m just another outsider and from California. A lot of people think we’ve become our own sovereign country. Kind of like the old days with the FBI. Information only goes one way. Taylor probably remembers the days when we’d give the feds information and never hear from them again until it was time for the press conference touting how great they were.” Butch laughed along with Taylor, who remembered those days well.

  “Besides, some of the information I just gave you was off the record. I’d appreciate it if it stayed that way so my contact doesn’t get burned. I think the ball is in your court, Rachel.”

  After Butch hung up, the three sat quietly for a while.

  Taylor finally broke the silence. “Rachel, I think you need to approach your boss, the DA. Between the CBI investigative report, the translation of the video by Two Feather, and the affidavits signed by Ernie and Skippy, you’ve got a good case and certainly enough for Utah to work on. It might be good if you and your boss made a trip over there and met personally with the AG staff. They might want to bring in the FBI, God help us! If that happens, this case might get stuck in neutral. But, we are dealing with a case spanning two states. Got to remember that.”

  *****

  Rachel, Chief Clyde Adams, and Rachel’s boss, Tipton Sanders, entered the large conference room in the Utah Attorney General’s Office in Salt Lake City. The large room seemed cramped with the number of people filling it. Several wore coats and ties, two were in police uniforms, and the rest wore soft clothing.

  “Glad you people from Gunnison were able to come over here. I’m Calvin Moore, Assistant AG. Anybody want to get a fresh cup of coffee before we begin?”

  The trio from Gunnison declined, saying they had just finished breakfast while others made a beeline for Mr. Coffee.

  After a few minutes, Calvin Moore started the meeting.

  “Why don’t we go around the room and make introductions? Carmen, start us off.”

  The attractive woman in a one-piece black dress stood. “I’m Carmen Staples and I run the AG Criminal Justice Division. We frequently get involved with cases like this, cases that might span several prosecutor jurisdictions and may contain elements of conflict.”

  The rest followed Carmen and introductions circled the table. Present was the chief of the AG Investigations Division who conducted public integrity investigations. Sal Domingo was there from the DEA Metro Narcotics Task Force. The DA from Cobb County introduced himself, followed by his Chief of Police out of Spring Valley. Another older man rose and introduced himself as the DA from Taft County and then introduced his Chief of Police from Rolling Hills. Rachel, her boss, and Clyde finished the introductions.

  Between Sal Domingo and Rachel Mendez, the assembled group was brought up to speed on the investigation that had spread from the little town of Juanita Springs to the state of Utah. The bar surveillance tape was played and Rachel read the affidavit of Two Feather. Rachel had enlarged an image from the bar video showing the bag carried under the arm of the Utah cop with “Big Mouth” emblazoned on the breast of his jacket.

  Sal had accessed the website of the Blue Gravediggers and had blown up several images showing the members in their colors. Several were doing stupid things like grabbing their crotches and simulating humping their motorcycles. He also mentioned the tie-in between the Denver and Utah chapters of the Outlaws. Sal told the group about the missing sterile Outlaws and what appeared to be a rip-off of money and drugs.

  The chief from Spring Valley whispered into the ear of his DA while the chief from Rolling Hills was savagely scouring the blown up photographs of the Blue Gravediggers.

  Assistant AG Calvin Moore asked, “You chiefs, there, what’s going on with your cops playing outlaw bikers?”

  The police chief from Rolling Hills simply said, “I never thought much about it. Just a bunch of cops blowing off steam. Got to have some release from the stress of the job. I’ve ridden with the Gravediggers on occasion myself.”

  Moore stared at him for a brief moment. “Tell me you weren’t flying those colors!”

  “Of course not!” the chief shouted indignantly.

  “Why not?”

  “Would be a bad image for me as the Chief of Police, don’t you think?”

  “Yes, I do. And how about the image of your cops? They any different?”

  The chief stammered and finally said, “Well, they got their First Amendment rights. You should know that, you being a lawyer.”

  “Are you that stupid, chief? Ever hear of conduct unbecoming?

  “What do you think about your cops playing outlaw bikers?” Moore demanded, focusing on the chief from Spring Valley. Wisely, that chief decided to keep his mouth shut after hearing the last exchange.

  Public employees are held to a different standard of conduct than someone who might be working the line at Ford Motor Company. Uniformed employees, like cops and firefighters, are held to an even higher standard, both for on and off duty conduct. Conduct unbecoming stems from the military. It’s an easy jump to see the similarity with police officers since they operate in a paramilitary style environment. Court cases and arbitration hearings have all continuously supported the concept that a public employee’s life is open for scrutiny 24/7. In the 1957 adopted Law Enforcement Officers’ Code of Conduct, there is a line stating, “I shall keep my personal life unsullied as an example to all.”

  Carmen Staples raised a point. “I’m a little concerned about the CBI investigative report and the fact that you didn’t charge anyone in Gunnison, Mr. Sanders. That could come back and be a problem. Any reasonable defense would jump on that.”

  Rachel looked at her boss who nodded, and then she r
esponded. “When the CBI investigators came down, we were dependent on their investigation. We don’t get shooting cases like this in our neck of the woods very often. Of course, the Utah officers involved apparently had time to get their stories together and the only other witnesses were the dead bikers. Our DA’s office had nothing else to go on so we didn’t take the incident to a grand jury. We were, in hindsight, mistaken.”

  Rachel gave a straightforward response without any sign of evasiveness.

  “What changed?” Carmen asked.

  “A retired LAPD cop got stuck in Juanita Springs a couple of weeks after the shooting. He had, or rather has, a lot more experience with this type incident. We found his fresh pair of eyes gave new insight to the circumstances. We’ve been working closely with this guy to develop a more detailed set of findings.”

  Rachel’s boss piped in. “I understand we have several jurisdictions involved now. We’ve got the original crime against the dead bikers, and what appears to be theft of narcotics as well. We’ve probably got perjury in their sworn statements to the CBI investigators, too. You’ve got several possible crimes on your own turf. Maybe the murder of two more bikers, plenty narcotic dealings, and the potential of corrupt cops. I think we can work it out between our jurisdictions.”

  Moore jumped into the conversation at this point. “How’s that?”

  “I think it would be best if we in Colorado sat on our end and let you Utah folks conduct whatever investigations you feel necessary at this stage of the game,” Tifton Sanders offered. He didn’t want to sound like he was directing the Utah players to do what he thought they should be doing. Politicians have a way of couching their views.

  Moore followed the strategic conversation. “That sounds good to me. Carmen, please prepare search warrants to seize bank, ATM transactions, phone, and computer records for all six cops.

  “Chiefs, immediately place your cops on admin leave. At this stage it’ll probably have to be with pay. But, you need to serve them with an administrative no-contact order to try to stop them getting together to develop their stories any further. It’s a feeble attempt, but we should put them on notice and if we find out later they violated notice, it would amount to insubordination. I’m going to assign four of my Investigations Division people to work directly with your chiefs to start the administrative investigations. At the same time, Carmen will be following with her staff to do the criminal side. This way we’ll be coming at the involved officers from two directions. The administrative notice will compel them to answer questions under Garrity. On the criminal side, since they won’t be in custody, we’ll try it initially without a Miranda warning and see what we can get voluntarily.