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Wednesday, March 28, 2012

Cops Shooting Cops

Santa Monica, California

     Albert Covarrabias, Jr., a high school graduate, joined the Santa Maria Police Department in 2007. The Santa Barbara County town of 100,000, 170 miles northwest of Los Angeles, is home to 70,000 hispanics. In 2011, Covarrabias' wife committed suicide. The 29-year-old  patrolman, in mid-January of this year, married again.

     A couple of weeks following his wedding, officer Covarrabias learned that members of his own department were investigating him for having sexual relations with a minor. (In California, the age of consent is 18, unless the parties are within 3 years of each other in age.) The alleged victim, a 17-year-old girl, was a member of the police department's Explorer program. (A police cadet.)

     On January 27, 2012, after intercepting and recording a 15 minute phone conversation between Covarrabias and the 17-year-old, Santa Maria investigators decided to take their fellow officer into custody. According to police accounts of the intercepted conversation, Covarrabias told the girl to deny their relationship, and to implicate someone else. He said he'd kill himself before he went to jail, and threatened her if she revealed their secret.

     At one o'clock the next morning, as officer Covarrabias was dismantling a DUI check-point in anticipation of going off duty, he was approached by his cousin Chris Nartatez, a Santa Maria sergeant, and officer Matt Kline, his best-friend on the force who had been his best man at the January wedding. When informed he was under arrest in connection with his alleged sexual relationship with the minor, Covarrabias backed away and reached for  his gun.

     The arresting officers charged Covarrabias, and as they wrestled on the ground, the arrestee managed to draw his weapon and fire four shots. Officer Kline pulled his gun and shot Covarrabias in the chest. The wounded officer died a few  hours later while undergoing emergency surgery.

     Santa Maria police chief Danny Macagni placed officers Kline and Nartatez on paid administrative leave as investigators with the Santa Barbara Sheriff's Office looked into the case.

     The fatal shooting of officer Covarrabias by one of his own, outraged a large segment of the community. Santa Maria police officers have received death threats, and critics of the shooting have called for the chief of police to step down. On February 15, the Santa Maria Officers Association (a police union), called for a "vote of no confidence" against Chief Macagni who has insisted that the actions of officers Kline and Nartatez were morally, administratively, and legally justified. (These officers were not welcome at Covarrabias' funeral.)

     The results of the no confidence vote have, as of this writing, not been made public. If a chief of police loses the support and confidence of the rank and file, he cannot effectively run the department. Based upon what has been reported in the media, the shooting of officer Covarrabias seems perfectly justified. However, if the chief loses support of his department and the community, he will have to go. At this point, the Covarrabia shooting case seems more about identity politics than the use of deadly force.

Long Beach, California

     The Los Angeles area's Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) office is housed on the 7th floor of the federal building in Long Beach, a town 20 miles south of Los Angeles. As one of the federal agencies that make up the Department of Homeland Security, ICE came into existence in 2003 when two existing organizations--the Department of Justice's Immigrations and Naturalization Service (INS), and the Treasury Department's Customs Bureau--merged. Agents in the combined agencies had to be cross-trained to do the other bureaus' work. Agents, however, remained loyal to their old bureaus, and this has created internal rivalries and resentments that have been difficult to resolve. Administratively speaking, it has not been a good marriage.

     Late Thursday afternoon, February 16, 2012, 51-year-old Kevin Kozak, the Deputy Special Agent in charge of ICE's Los Angeles office, a former Customs Bureau agent, was meeting with 45-year-old special agent Ezequiel Garcia. The purpose of the meeting involved the former INS agent's job performance. Kozak had earlier denied Garcia's request for an office transfer which had created animosity on his part. (In 2005, Garcia and another ICE agent had sued the Los Angeles Police Department after they had been roughed-up when working undercover. The plaintiffs lost the suit.)

     The office job performance meeting, at 5:30 PM, turned violent when Agent Garcia pulled his service weapon. Agent Kozak grabbed the gun, and as the two men struggled for control of the weapon, Kozak was shot in the upper torso, legs, and hands--six times in all. Agent Perry Woo, who happened to be in the vicinity, shot and killed Ezequiel Garcia. Paramedics rushed Kevin Kozak, severely wounded but alive, to a nearby hospital where, as of this writing, he remains in stable condition.

     T. J. Bonner, a retired U.S. Border Patrol Agent who has worked with ICE, has described the agency's formation as a hostile takeover. Since its creation, the agency has seen several scandals involving agents arrested for drug dealing, obstruction of justice, embezzlement, and other crimes. ICE agents have also been accused of having improper sexual relations with informants.

     

Wednesday, March 21, 2012

Rutgers Spycam Case: Hating Hate Crimes

Federalization of Hate Crime Legislation

     In 1969, congress made criminal homicide, aggravated assault, rape, and the destruction of property federal crimes if the offender's motivation was hatred of the victim's race, ethnicity, religion, or national origin. The law applied to victims attending federally funded public schools, or participating in other federally protected activities. Critics of the legislation considered it redundant and excessive. Moreover, it created a preferred class of victim, and criminalized motive and thought. Others criticized this hate crime legislation for not going far enough, for not including gay people.

     The House of Representatives, in 2007, passed the Matthew Shepard Act, legislation named after the gay Wyoming college student who was murdered in 1998. The act expanded hate crime protection to gender, sexual orientation, gender identification, and disability bias. It also dropped the prerequisite that victims be engaged in federally protected activity. The U. S. Senate pass a similar bill, but it did not become law.

     In October 2009, the House of Representatives passed another measure, this one attached to the $681-billion military policy bill of 2010 which mirrored the Matthew Shepard Act. The military appropriation, and the attached hate crime legislation, was taken up by the Senate, which passed its own version of the bill. Under this new legislation, signed by President Obama, the U.S. Department of Justice will also allocate $5 million a year to help local authorities prosecute hate crimes.

     It's comforting to know that the politicians in Washington not only want to wipe out crime, they intend to eliminate hate as well.

State Hate Crime Laws

     Today, 45 states have laws making certain crimes more serious if the perpetrators were motivated by racial, ethnic, or religious bias. So, to assault a person out of personal anger, or simply to steal his wallet, is one thing. To assault him because he's a certain race or religion, makes the crime, for that reason alone, more serious. It's the thought behind the crime that makes the difference. These laws criminalize thought and belief. In 30 states, the hate crime legislation also covers people who are gay. (Advice to white muggers: to avoid enhanced prison sentences, only rob white heterosexuals. If you make a mistake and accidentally assault a gay person, you may have to commit perjury on the issue of your sexual orientation beliefs. I say, lie through your teeth, you have nothing to lose.)

     In 2010, according to the FBI, 1,528 people in the United States were victims of anti-gay hate crime. These gay related offenses made up 20 percent of all reported hate crimes that year. That figure seems low. Either hatred for gays isn't as bad as the politicians think it is, or we need to add more thought police. This is where more polygraph examiners would come in handy. Question: Are you principally a mugger, or a bigot?

Rutgers Spycam Case

     On March 17, 2012, a jury in New Brunswick, New Jersey, found former Rutgers University student Dharun Ravi guilty of anti-gay intimidation for using a webcam to spy on his gay roommate's sexual activity. The 18-year-old student Ravi spied on, committed suicide by jumping off a bridge. Because Tyler Clementi killed himself, the 20-year-old defendant faces up to ten years in prison.

         What is Dharun Ravi being punished for? The suicide? The cruel invasion of his roommate's privacy? The humiliation of a fellow student? Atrocious student conduct? Ravi isn't going to prison for any of these acts. He didn't kill Tyler Clementi. He didn't invade his privacy and humiliate him with the intent of causing his suicide. Although the prosecution didn't present any solid evidence that the defendant's behavior was motivated by a hatred of gays, Ravi is being punished for anti-gay motivated behavior. He's being punished for thoughts, and a motive he may or may not have had. If the facts of this case were identical except that the roommate was having sex with a woman, would Ravi be facing a prison sentence? Of course not.

     Hate crime law is not just redundant, feel-good legislation passed by thoughtless, pandering politicians, it's dangerous thought crime that is unconstitutional and un-American. The Rutgers Spycam case illustrates this perfectly.


Tuesday, March 20, 2012

Killing Bald Eagles: Native Americans Can, The Rest of Us Can't

The Illegal Possession of Feathers

     Because, in the early 20 century, birds were slaughtered to feather women's hats, congress, in 1918, passed the Migratory Bird Treaty Act (MBTA) to protect every bird in America except the house sparrow, feral pigeon, common starling, and non-migratory game birds such as pheasants, gray partridges, and the sage grouse. The MBTA prohibits the hunting, capture or killing of the protected birds. Moreover, one cannot legally purchase, sell, or even possess any feather, body part, nest, or egg of any bird covered by the act. (The  MBTA covers 83 percent of all birds that live in the United States.)

Chuck Smith and the Federal Bird Cops

     Chuck Smith (not his real name), is a friend who, in the early 1990s, innocently got caught up in a petty MBTA case that scared the hell out of him. Chuck, a respected and popular high school anthropology teacher specializing in the history of the American Indian, answered a bargain bulletin ad placed by a man selling Indian relics. From this seller, a man named Phil (not really), Chuck purchased a 1920s era white, buckskin outfit that had been worn ceremonially by members of the Blackfoot tribe. He paid $1,500 for the full-dress, beaded, Indian outfit. Two days after the sale, Phil called and offered to give Chuck the headdress that went with the buckskin apparel. The war bonnet contained 25 white, dark-tipped feathers from a bald eagle. Chuck accepted the offer. He planned to exhibit these items as teaching aids, and had no idea that by accepting the eagle-feathered Blackfoot headdress, he had broken a federal law. Had Chuck known it was against the law to possess bald eagle feathers, he would not have taken the bonnet home. (A vast majority of Americans have no idea that most bird feathers are federal contraband.)

     Not long after Chuck made the Blackfoot buckskin purchase, and accepted the bonnet as a gift, a pair of undercover agents with the Department of Interior visited the seller, Phil. The agents said they were responding to Phil's Indian relics ad. After buying an Indian neckless made of eagle claws, the feds flashed their badges and arrested Phil for violation of the MBTA. When the agents asked Phil if he had sold items containing feathers to anyone else, he told them about Chuck's Blackfoot headdress.

     Phil's information brought the federal agents, unannounced, to Chuck's house. They identified themselves, then asked if he still possessed the eagle feathered bonnet. Chuck said yes, it had been a gift from Phil. The agents informed Chuck that he had committed a federal crime under the MBTA, an offense that could cost him ten of thousands of dollars in fines, and even some time in prison. Terrified, and worried that the fines and a prison stretch would bankrupt him, and ruin his career as a high school teacher, Chuck volunteered the information that he possessed other Indian artifacts that contained bird feathers.

     The shaken school teacher led the federal agents to an upstairs bedroom where they seized a rawhide Indian shield bearing a clump of crow feathers, and a shaman's rattle with screech owl feathers. In his garage, Chuck turned over two owl feathers he had found along a road after the bird had been hit by a car. In addition to the general MBTA fine, Chuck could be fined an extra $500 for each feather type he had possessed. The additional fines would add up to $2,000. Before leaving Chuck's house that day, the agents said they would tell the assistant United States attorney (AUSA) handling the case that he had been very cooperative. This did not ease Chuck's anxiety. He envisioned himself in prison stripes.

     The next several weeks Chuck went through hell as he waited to find out what would happen to him. Finally, one of the agents called him with the news that the AUSA was so thrilled to be handling a case that did not involve drugs, she was giving him a huge break. If he paid a fine of just $500, the case would be history. Chuck mailed in the money, and went on with his life. But memories of his ordeal lingered for years.

Bald Eagles: A License to Kill

     In 1995, the federal government classified the bald eagle an endangered species. Twelve years later, the bird was re-classified as a threatened species. Even so, the bald eagle has remained under the protection of the federal Bald and Golden Eagle Protection Act. Under this law it is a crime, without a government permit, to capture, kill, and/or possess a bald or golden eagle, or any part of the bird. Violators face a maximum fine of $100,000, and two years in prison.

     In 2011, the 9,600-member Arapaho tribe on the Wind River Indian reservation in west-central Wyoming, after being refused a permit to kill two bald eagles for religious purposes, filed a federal lawsuit. (Native Americans can legally acquire eagle feathers and carcasses from a federal repository of such items.) On March 9, 2012, the U. S. Fish & Wildlife Service granted the permit.

     The reaction to the permit decision from the National Audobon Society, conservation groups, and animal rights activists, has been muted. Because they are afraid to criticize Native Americans, politicians have also been quiet. Over the years, dozens of non-Native Americans have gone to prison for killing bald and golden eagles. My friend Chuck could have gone to prison for merely possessing eagle feathers. He's not happy with the decision to allow members of the Arapaho tribe to kill a pair of these protected birds. But like most people, he would prefer to keep this opinion to himself. Perhaps Chuck is worried that criticizing Native Americans might be a federal crime. The retired high school teacher is not taking any chances when it comes to Native Americans, and eagles.  

Forensic Hypnosis: Investigative Tool or Junk Science?

     Advocates of forensic hypnosis claim that crime victims and witnesses, under an hypnotic state, can remember events they have forgotten, and sharpen memories that are still with them. Forensic hypnotists are often brought into cases to help, for example, a witness or victim recall a license plate number, or an odometer reading. Investigators also use the technique to retrieve more detailed descriptions of suspects.

     Supporters of forensic hypnosis point to cases where its use has solve crimes. Detractors (myself included) can point to instances where hypnotically induced information turned out to be inaccurate, and even harmful.

     In the 1970s I was tangentially involved in an arson-murder case where a forensically hypnotized witness/victim identified an innocent man as the fire setter. In one of my own cold case murder investigations, a witness I had someone forensically hypnotize, produced information that led me on a wild goose chase. In Pennsylvania and several other states, hypnotically induced testimony, because it is unreliable, is not admissible in court.

     A lot can go wrong when a victim or a witness is questioned while in an hypnotic state. The hypnotist can unwittingly suggest information to the subject that taints the results. Under hypnosis, the personal beliefs and prejudices of the interviewee can seep into remembered accounts and descriptions.

     Researchers have found that people under hypnosis are fully capable of lying, and the process can bring to the surface a subject's false beliefs. Because of these and other problems with this investigative technique, I am not a fan of forensic hypnosis, particularly when practiced by psychologists who make their livings putting clients under to help them stop smoking, lose weight, stop taking drugs, or get off booze. In my opinion, composite sketches based on the memories of hypnotized eyewitnesses are, at best, useless. In the practice of criminal investigation, forensic hypnotists should be placed in the same category as fortune tellers, astrologists, and psychic detectives.  

Monday, March 19, 2012

Shoot/Don't Shoot: Shooting Kids

January 4, 2011
Chicago, Illinois

     Officers patrolling a west side neighborhood for gang and drug activity, spotted a car that matched the description of a vehicle believed to be carrying guns and narcotics. As one of the officers approached the pulled-over car, the driver put it in reverse and rammed the police cruiser. The officer behind the wheel fired his gun as the suspect lurched forward and brushed the other officer. When the passenger in the suspect car pulled a gun, the officer on foot shot him and the driver.

     The wounded suspects turned out to be a pair of 15-year-old boys. After a couple of days in the hospital, the teenagers were charged with aggravated battery and sent to a juvenile detention center. Given the circumstances of the case, no one objected when the authorities ruled this police involved shooting justified.  

March 14, 2011
Lansing, Michigan

     When the intrusion alarm at the Bank of America went off at 3:30 in the morning, five police officers responded to the scene. After discovering the place where the burglar had broken into the the building, three of the officers entered the bank. Two of the officers encountered the intruder hiding in a small storage room. The cornered bank burglar turned out to be 17-year-old Derrinesh Clay. The five foot four, 120 pound girl, wearing a black winter coat with a fur-trimmed hood, black sweatpants over jeans, and a multicolored backpack, brandished a pair of scissors. 

     Lansing police officer Brian Rendon ordered Clay to drop the weapon. When she didn't, he grabbed her by the wrist. The girl put up a fight, and she, Rendon, and another officer ended up on the floor. As the officers tried to handcuff the burglar, she pulled out a serrated steak knife and took a swipe at Rendon, cutting the front of his coat. From a foot away, Rendon pulled his .45-caliber Glock and fired twice, hitting the black girl in the head and stomach as she knelt in front of him. The girl died at the scene. 

     In 2005, Officer Rendon had shot and killed a pit bull, and three years later, shot and wounded a man who came at him with a knife. He was cleared on both shootings. Investigators with the Michigan State Police found that in the Clay shooting, Officer Rendon's deadly force was a "justifiable act of self-defense." The prosecutor's office agreed, therefore no criminal charges have been filed against Officer Rendon. 

     Derrinesha Clay had been in trouble with the law before. Police had recently arrested her for committing a pair of home invasions. She had also been diagnosed with attention-deficit hyperactivity disorder, and may have been bipolar. 

     Critics of the police shooting, and there are many, believe that the girl's death could have been avoided. The officer, they say, could have backed off without risking his life. Why didn't he use a taser gun to subdue her. In September 2011, the dead girl's mother, Mary Rush, filed a federal lawsuit in the U. S. District Court in Grand Rapids against Officer Rendon and the city of Lansing. The plaintiff accuses the defendants of gross negligence, battery, and civil rights violations. Regardless of the outcome of this case, the incident has strained relations between the police department and the city's minority community. 

January 4, 2012
Brownsville, Texas

     At eight in the morning, a school administrator at the Cummings Middle School, spotted a student who possessed what looked like a handgun partially concealed under his shirt. The boy stood in the hallway outside of the main office. A few days earlier, 15-year-old Jaime Gonzales had been in a fight with another boy. The concerned school official called 911.

     Gonzales, when approached by several police officers, drew his gun. One of the officers yelled, "Take him out!" When the kid refused to lower his weapon, the police, armed with automatic rifles, shot him in the chest and in the back of the head, killing him instantly. 

     The weapon Gonzales pointed at the police turned out to be a pellet gun that looked like the real thing. The dead student's parents have protested the shooting, and have called for an independent investigation. But in the light of school shootings that have resulted in the deaths of so many students and teachers, it's hard to fault the police in this case. Hindsight is one thing, but these officers had to make a split shoot/don't shoot decision. Based on news reportage of this case, it seems justified even though the boy was fifteen, and armed with a pellet gun.  

     

Thursday, March 15, 2012

Was Coach Joe Paterno a Hero?

     America is a nation of heroes. There are tens of thousands of them. On TV, news readers  often refer to all military personnel, law enforcement officers, and firefighters as heroes. There are, of course, true war heroes, brave cops, and heroic firefighters. But all of them? If everybody is a hero, then no one is. In the fields of education, literature, law, science, business, and medicine, there are real heroes, but we seldom hear of them. I guess there are even political heroes, but I can't think of any.

     Most of our "heroes" come out of the entertainment industry--where they are also called icons--and the world of sports. I once knew a successful lawyer who had served in the special forces in Vietnam. Guess who he idolized? John Wayne, a Hollywood actor who played a war hero. Really. How can an actor, even a great one, be a hero?

     Hundreds, if not thousands, of amateur and professional athletes become big heroes, and even legends like Babe Ruth and Joe DiMaggio. At least DiMaggio was married to Marylyn Monroe, a film icon who had an affair with a political hero, John F. Kennedy. I don't understand what it is about great athletes that makes them heroes. I understand the fame and the wealth, even fan adulation. But heroes?

     In America, even coaches can become heroes. In a town near my home, a high school football coach who was in his 90s recently died. His life story dominated the local newspaper for at least three days. You'd think he had cured cancer, or had saved the world from Hitler. He was a high school football coach.

     Penn State football Coach Joe Paterno was a super-hero to millions of sports fans. His supporters liked to point out that he had donated a lot of money to the university library, and other good causes.  Plenty of rich people give their money away, but they are not considered heroes. They are just paying their fair share. Joe Paterno was not hero because he made a huge salary and was generous. He was a hero because his teams won a lot of football games, and brought glory to Penn State. He was supposedly a leader of men.

     Coach Joe Paterno died last January, and before his death, experienced something few Penn State fans could ever have imagined--he got fired! Why? Because the board of trustees didn't think he had showed leadership and courage in the Jerry Sandusky child molestation scandal. About half of the Penn State fandom is still furious over this black mark on Paterno's legend.

     Simply doing the right thing doesn't make one a hero. But if Joe Paterno hadn't turned a blind eye to sexual molestation going on under his nose, children may have been protected, his career wouldn't have ended in disgrace, and his fans would have an untarnished hero.

UPDATE

     A poll released on Friday, March 16, shows that 46 percent of the 1,300 Pennsylvanians questioned favor renaming Beaver Stadium Joe Paterno Stadium. The survey also found 40 percent opposed to the idea. The name change was more strongly supported by people who described themselves "very or somewhat interested" in college football." The proposal was also backed by people over 65. 

Golf as a Contact Sport

     Is golf a game or a sport? I don't know, but if chess and poker can be called sports, so can golf. While it is not a contact sport, being a golfer can be dangerous--just ask Tiger Woods.

May 2011
Granite Falls, North Carolina

     While playing a round of golf at the Granada Farms County Club, a fox ran out of the woods and bit a 76-year-old golfer in the leg. The wounded man's partners beat the fox to death with their clubs. Animal control people determined that the fox had rabies. This was not good news for the injured golfer who had to undergo treatment for the disease. His defenders had dispatched the poor animal with a minimum of strokes, however. Just kidding.

May 2011
Haslingden, England

     On a Saturday afternoon, a 32-year-old man, walking to his brand new silver Audi A4 after a round of golf, was set upon by a pair of masked car thieves who had been hiding in the bushes. One of the assailants struck the golfer in the back of the neck with a crowbar. The victim cried out, and tossed his car keys into a patch high grass near the parking lot. Players from the 18th green heard the victim's cry for help and ran to the scene. The attackers escaped in a white Renault Clio. After being treated for his neck injury, the embattled golfer drove home in his new car.

August 2011
Barrie, Canada

     On August 13, 2011, 42-year-old Bradley Hubbard, while golfing at an indoor mini-putt course with his girlfriend and his daughters, aged 4 and 7, confronted three rowdy teenagers. The boys became violent, and one of them stabbed Hubbard in the neck with a broken putter. The victim died later that night.

     Matthew and Justin Spring, and their friend Jake Workman, have been charged with second degree murder. Released on bail, they are awaiting their first pre-trial hearing set for April 5, 2012.

February 2012
Fort Worth, Texas

     Clay Carpenter, an avid skier who has run four marathons, was playing with two of his friends at the Resort on Eagle Mountain Lake. At the 13th hole, the course marshal (I've heard of air marshals and U. S. Marshals, but didn't know there were golf marshals) told Carpenter and the other two to play through the foursome ahead of them. After they took their shots, a 48-year-old golfer with the other group, apparently infuriated that the threesome was moving through, charged toward Carpenter. The yelling, cursing, out-of-control golfer swung his putter at Carpenter's head. The attacked man raised his hand to protect himself, and in so doing, had his thumb broken. The next thing Carpenter knew, his shoe was filling up with blood. The enraged golfer had stabbed him in the right leg with his broken putter. Rushed to the hospital with a punctured femoral artery, Carpenter would survive the attack. But there is a good chance he will eventually lose his leg.

     The putter attacking man has not been named, or charged with a crime. Why? According to the authorities in Tarrant County, they aren't sure if the stabbing was intentional. Huh? How can one golfer accidentally stab another golfer with a broken putter? And what about the broken thumb? I'm guessing that the putter-wielding golfer is someone important. Otherwise, he'd be charged with aggravated assault. And we would know who he is.
   

Monday, March 12, 2012

The Unraveling of John Shick: The Western Psychiatric Shooting Spree

     When writing Crimson Stain, my nonfiction book about a schizophrenic Amish man named Edward Gingerich who brutally beat his wife to death in 1993, I thought a lot about the relationship between serious mental illness and violence. (Gingerich hanged himself in January 2011.) At any given time, about half of the one million schizophrenics in the country are off their medications. Roughly one percent account for 1,000 or so criminal homicides a year. In 2011, of the nearly 1,200 people shot by the police, at least 30 percent of them were mentally ill. The so-called "suicide-by-cop" scenario has become a common type of police involved shooting situation. Mental illness is not only a major heath concern in this country, it has become a serious social problem. Sixty years ago, hopelessly mentally ill people were institutionalized, today they are on the street walking among us. Most are not violent, but many are, and there is no way to identify the dangerous ones before they strike. In that sense, we are all sitting ducks.

John F. Shick

(The material from the following account is based on reportage in The Pittsburgh Post-Gazette and The Pittsburgh Tribune-Review)

     In 1999, John Shick entered Carleton College where in three years he'd graduate with a degree in chemistry. As part of a 5-year, dual-degree program, he would continue his education at Columbia University where, after two years, he'd graduate with an engineering degree. Carleton College is a prestigious school in Northfield, Minnesota with an enrollment of 2,000. In 2002, having acquired his degree in chemistry, Shick moved to New York City to attend Columbia. A brilliant student, he graduated from Columbia in June 2004 with his engineering degree. He was obviously a bright young man from a family who could afford to send him to good schools.

     In April 2009, while living in Portland, Oregon, Shick began showing signs of mental illness. That year, the 26-year-old went to the trouble of legally changing his name to Willim Hahnpere Scolskan, then several months later, changed it back to John Shick. Police took him into custody on December 28, 2009 near the Portland International Airport following a 911 call regarding a man acting strangely. When Shick kicked an officer, and tried to hit him with his foot-long flashlight, the cop gave Shick a taste of his taser. The police arrested Shick for assault, then hauled the combative arrestee to a mental ward for evaluation. A few days later, he was back on the street. (I'm guessing, but I imagine some shrink put him back on his pills then showed him the door.) In January 2010, the assault charges against Shick were dismissed.

     Shick moved to Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania in August 2011. He took up residence at the Royal York Apartments in the Oakland section of the city which is home to the University of Pittsburgh, Carnegie Mellon University, and a vast hospital complex. He enrolled at nearby Duquesne University as a graduate student, and teaching assistant. Within weeks of his move to Pittsburgh, administrators at Duquesne began getting complaints about him from several female graduate students. Shick had been bombarding them with emails and text messages in an apparent effort to connect with them socially. The messages weren't threatening or obscene, just excessive, and off-putting.

     In October 2011, Duquesne officials kicked Shick out of the university, and a month later, officially barred him from the campus following a conference with the director of student conduct. (Shick's mother attended the meeting with  him.) He apologized for his behavior.

     At the Royal York Apartments, Shick's fellow residents, although they didn't know him, considered him an oddball. He walked around glassy-eyed, and didn't speak to people he encountered in the hallway or elevator. A handwritten note taped to his apartment door read, "Now cleaning up vomit from pancreatitis. Please do not disturb." Residents who passed by his door detected a chemical odor emanating from his apartment. When walking the streets of Oakland, Shick, wearing a fanny pack and a backpack, and carrying a couple of shopping bags, often looked nervous and confused. When he did make eye-contact with people, they were often angry looks. (I don't think it's a wild guess to assume he suffered from paranoia.)

     On March 7, 2012, in the lobby of his apartment building, Shick asked the apartment manager to call 911 for him. He then vomited on the floor. A short time later, an ambulance arrived to take him to the hospital. A few hours after that, he was back in the building.

The Shootings

     At 1:42 in the afternoon of March 8, the day after he had vomited in his apartment building, John Shick, wearing a tan trench coat, white T-shirt, jeans, tennis shoes, and a watch on each wrist, walked into the Western Psychiatric Institute and Clinic in Oakland. He carried two 9 mm semi-automatic pistols, and in his fanny pack, had extra bullets along with some pills, a roll of Tums, and a pencil and some paper. He began shooting the moment he stepped into the lobby, firing a bullet into the chest of the receptionist, Katheryn F. Leight. The wounded 64-year-old was on the phone talking to her husband. Michael Schaab, a 25-year-old therapist, just happened to be returning from his lunch break. He didn't have a chance. Shick shot him dead on the spot.

     As shot rang out in the lobby, panicked employees scurried about yelling, "Hide! hide!" and "Stay down!" Shick wounded three more people on the first floor, then climbed the stairwell leading to the second-floor parking garage. He tried to exit the building there, but didn't have an access card to open the door. He fired a shot into the window panel, but the glass didn't shatter.

     As Shick re-entered the lobby from the stairs, three police officers from the University of Pittsburgh came through the front door firing their guns. Before being hit, a bullet from Shick's pistol grazed one of the officers. When the gunfire ended, Shick lay dead, face-down on the floor next to Michael Schaab's body. He had shot six people, killing one.

     For several hours, investigators didn't know who the dead man was. He carried no identification, and a NCIC fingerprint search came up negative. Eventually someone identified a post-mortem photograph of the shooter. (At the time of the rampage, Shick's parents were reportedly on a yacht in the Bahamas.) When investigators searched Shick's apartment, they found notes taped to the walls pertaining to people who had slighted and angered him.

     While the investigation is ongoing, investigators have not determined why Shick had targeted employees of the Western Psychiatric facility. He didn't know his victims, and the shootings seemed random. His 9 mm handguns originated from Texas, and one of them had been reported stolen.

     Michael Schaab, the 25-year-old geriatric therapist shot to death in the Western Psychiatric lobby, had earned his BA degree in psychology from the University of Pittsburgh. The Greensburg, Pennsylvania native was planning to get married in March of next year. In October 2010, his 26-year-old sister Nancy had been shot to death at a residence she shared with a man named Jordan Just. The shooting took place over an argument concerning heroin. Just pleaded guilty to voluntary manslaughter, and is serving a 6 to 15 year sentence in a central Pennsylvania prison.

     On March 9, the president of the union (SEIU) that represents 200 nurses, clerks, and housekeepers at the 292-bed Western Psychiatric Institute and Clinic, a part of the University of Pittsburgh Medical Center, called for a "full investigation" of the shooting spree. The head of the union wanted to know why the lobby had not been protected by security personnel.    
   



   

Friday, March 9, 2012

The Pittsburgh Armored Truck Robbery/Murder Case

     One would think that stealing a large sum of money from an armored truck--a bullet-proof vault on wheels protected by at least two armed security officers--would be extremely difficult, and rare. They are not. While some armored car heists feature a lot of planning, and several accomplices, most are committed by one or two people. A high percentage of armored car robberies are inside jobs committed by security personnel. According to the FBI, there were 48 of these heists in 2010. While the police solve a high percentage of these cases, most of the loot is never recovered. In 2010, the authorities only got back 13 percent of the stolen cash. In the infamous 1950 Brinks job in Boston, the police didn't recover one cent of the stolen $2.7 million in bills, checks, and money orders. By the time the suspects were identified and rounded up, the checks and money orders had been destroyed, and the cash spent.

     The Brinks case robbers had carefully planned the heist, but had been careless with the money, calling attention to themselves by wildly spending it. The first suspects taken into custody, to make deals for lighter sentences, informed on the others. To have any chance of getting away with an armored car heist, the robbery crew has to have a get-a-way plan, a way to handle the cash, and a place to hide out for months. Fake identification is also helpful. And the fewer the accomplices, the better. All of this criminal preparation and planning is necessary because the police and the FBI put a lot of effort into these investigations.

     An armored van or truck makes between ten and twenty pickups and deliveries a day. The most secure vehicles are equipped with tracking devices, and are staffed by a crew of three armed officers. The driver never leaves the truck. At the delivery and pickup stops, the guard is positioned near the vehicle, and the messenger handles the cargo. Occasionally the guard will accompany the messenger to and from the truck. To cut costs, armored car companies often use 2-person crews in which the driver is also the messenger.

     To reduce the risk of an inside job, Armored car firms should thoroughly investigate all employees, and subject them to periodic polygraph testing. No one should be hired with financial problems, or histories of drug use. Because of the stiff competition for clients, armored car companies take shortcuts, and only pay guards, messengers, and drivers $10 to $15 per hour. And there are no job benefits. Compared to police officers, prison guards, and parole agents, armored car positions, while just as dangerous, are extremely low pay. All of this contributes to the risk of an inside job.

The Pittsburgh Armored Truck Robbery/Murder Case

     Kenneth John Konias, a 2008 graduate of Serra Catholic High School in McKeesport, Pennsylvania, lived in nearby Dravosburg, a town of 2,000 on the Monongahela River. The 22-year-old, an only child, lived in his parents' house. Upon graduation, Konias began work as a security guard in a shopping mall. After a year with the Dravosburg Voluntary Fire Department, Konias joined the volunteer fire department in Duquesne. Six months later, the Duquesne fire chief dismissed him because he "didn't fit in." He had failed the test to become an Allegheny County police officer.

     Early in 2011, following a background check, some psychological testing, and a little firearms training, Kenneth Konias became a driver-messenger with the Garda Cash Logistics Armored Transport Company. Several months later Konias' fellow employees found lottery tickets from a grocery store on his route, in the back of the truck. Konias said he must have carried the tickets out of the store on the bottom of his cash satchel. His supervisor accepted the explanation, and the matte was closed.

     On February 28, 2012, Konias was paired with 31-year-old Michael Haines, a guard who had been on the job a few months. After graduating from Pittsburgh's Robert Morris University with a degree in communications, Haines, from East McKeesport, had previously sold Verizon cell phones. Until getting the job with Garda, Haines had struggled finding full time work. On this Tuesday, with Konias behind the wheel, and Haines in the cargo area of the truck, the men pulled away from the Garda office in downtown Pittsburgh a few minutes before eight o'clock in the morning.

     Just before one in the afternoon, after making a pickup at the Home Depot store north of town in Ross Township, Home Depot employees thought they heard a gun go off inside the Garda truck. Thirty minutes later, Konias parked the armored vehicle under a bridge two blocks from the Garda office. He climbed out of the truck, walked to the employee parking lot, and drove off in his tan Ford Explorer.

     After stopping at places where he had stashed bags of cash, Konias drove to his parents' house in Dravosburg where he greeted his father. After putting his bloody Garda jacket on a hanger, and stashing $200,000 in cash in the house, Konias left the dwelling in his Ford Explorer.

     At 3:45 that afternoon, a Garda employee came upon the idling truck under the bridge. Blood seeped from the back of the vehicle, and inside Michael Haines lay dead from a bullet fired into the back of his head. The guard's 9 mm Glock semiautomatic pistol was missing along with $2.3 million in cash. (This is enough money to fill two trash bags.)

     Konias, after leaving Dravosburg that afternoon, called several people on his cell phone. He spoke to his mother Renee, telling her that he had stashed $25,000 at his grandmother's grave site at St. Mary Magdalene Cemetery in Munhall. (Mr. Konias retrieved the money, and a relative notified the police.) Konias called a friend and asked him to run off with him. He said he would never have to work again. To another friend he said he had messed up, and that his life was over. The friend asked him if he had killed someone. Konias paused, then said yes. In one of the conversations Konias asked about extradition laws in Canada and Mexico. After making these calls, Konias tossed his cell phone out his car window. It was found along Route 51 south of downtown Pittsburgh.

     On Tuesday night, Police searched the Konias house in Dravosburg. They recovered the bloody Garda jacket, and the $200,000. Hoping to catch Konias before he got too far, the police alerted U.S. border authorities, airports, bus depots, and train stations.

     On March 1, the Allegheny County district attorney charged Kenneth Konia with criminal homicide, robbery, and theft. The FBI issued a wanted poster, and added Konias to the FBI's Most Wanted List. The bureau also posted information regarding the fugitive on its Facebook page.

     On Friday, March 16, the police-hunt for the 6 foot one, 165 pound fugitive was featured on Lifetime TV's "America's Most Wanted" show.

     As of this writing, Konias is still at large.

(The material in this account is based upon reportage in the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette and the Pittsburgh Tribune Review.)
  

   
     

Monday, March 5, 2012

Barring Psychologists From the Courtroom

     As trial witnesses, experts are brought into the courtroom to help jurors understand things beyond their knowledge as laypersons. Unlike ordinary witnesses, experts can express their opinions, which because they are experts, carry extra weight. Through exhibits and testimony, these specialists can point out similarities (and dissimilarities) between, say, a defendant's fingerprint, hair follicle, DNA, or handwriting to crime scene latents, hair, blood, or a document. A forensic pathologist in a murder case might be able to tell jurors when, where, and how the victim had been killed. While these courtroom experts work with physical evidence, and apply hard science to their inquiries, even they don't always draw the same conclusions after analyzing the same evidence. For the administration of justice, this is not a good thing.

     In terms of disciplines and fields of study, the more courtroom experts there are, and the less stringent the legal standards are for who is an expert, and who isn't, the worse it is for the trial process. Today there are too many trials featuring dueling expert testimony. Instead of helping jurors determine the facts of particular case, the competing experts render the process more difficult, and unreliable. This is why, especially in the soft-science disciplines of criminology (sociology) and psychology, trial judges should deny these practitioners expert witness status. In other words, when it comes to courtroom testimony, we'd be better off if they kept their opinions to themselves.

Psychologists in Child Abuse Cases

     Pennsylvania is the only state where prosecutors are not permitted to call psychologists to the stand as expert witnesses in child molestation cases to help jurors evaluate the credibility of young accusers. Specifically, in cases where victims of sexual abuse waited months or even years to come forward, prosecutors want psychologists to explain why this doesn't mean these accusers are not believable. These expert witnesses, according to prosecutors, can help jurors understand the psychology of this form of victimhood.

     Defense attorneys, on the other hand, object to this form of expert testimony on the grounds it usurps the role of the jury, and the power of common sense, in deciding if a particular accuser is a credible witness. In performing this duty, jurors do not need the help of a psychologists whose opinions on such matters are no better than anyone else's. Moreover, history has shown that too many prosecution shrinks have lost their objectivity by  thinking of themselves as members of law enforcement teams. (For a good example of this phenomena, look up the old McMartin preschool case.)

     As much as I loath pedophiles, and like to see them put away for life, I agree with the defense attorneys on this issue. In American jurisprudence, there are now expert witnesses testifying on virtually everything under the sun. It has become a racket, and it's screwing up the system. They cost a lot of money, and are corrupting the trial process. Some experts will testify for whoever will pay them. Others specialize in helping one side or the other. Too many of these witnesses claim expertise in fields that are themselves bogus, and many come into court with phony resumes. In selecting between dueling experts, jurors might side with the hired-gun who looks the best, or is the most persuasive speaker. A complete phony can look and sound more credible than his or her more credentialed counterpart.

     Psychologists and criminologists should not be qualified as expert witnesses. The jury process, and the criminal justice system, would be better off without their conflicting opinions.
   

       

Saturday, March 3, 2012

The Dingo Ate the Baby

     According to Lindy Chamberlain, on August 17, 1980, while she, her husband Michael, and their three children were camping near Ayer's Rock in Australia's outback, she saw a dingo (a wild dog) come out of the family's tent with her 9-week-old baby in it's mouth. "The dingo's got my baby!" she screamed. The infant, named Azaria, was never found. The incident grabbed headlines around the world. In Australia, the media portrayed Lindy Chamberlain as a remorseless killer.

     In Darwin, at the Magistrates Court, a coroner's inquest jury found no cause to charge the parents with criminal homicide. This was not a popular verdict, and in 1981, a second coroner's jury heard evidence in the case. This time, Lindy and Michael Chamberlain were ordered to stand trial for the murder of Azaria.

     Although the prosecutor lacked evidence of a crime--he didn't even have a body--the trial jury found Lindy guilty of first degree murder. The media applauded the verdict, and the judge, bending to public opinion, sentenced her to life in prison. Michael Chamberlain, found guilty of accessory after the fact, received a suspended sentence.

     In 1985, a hiker found a piece of the baby's clothing in a dingo's den near Ayer's Rock. Presented with this new, exonerating evidence, an appellate court, in 1987, overturned the convictions. Many Australians were not happy with this decision. The following year, a movie came out about the case called "A Cry in the Dark" starring Meryl Streep as Lindy Chamberlain.

     Because many people in Australia believed that Lindy Chamberlain had murdered her baby, the authorities, in anticipation of a retrial, convened a third coroner's inquest in Darwin's Magistrates Court. The jury in the 1995 inquiry returned an open verdict, declaring the cause and manner of the baby's death unknown.

     On February 24, 2012, the Magistrates Court in Darwin was, for the fourth time, the site of a coroner's inquest into the death of the Chamberlain baby. Lindy Chamberlain had asked for the hearing to clear her name. Specifically, she wanted the coroner's jurors to change Azaria's manner of death from "unknown" to "accidental death by animal attack." Both parents, now divorced, were in the courtroom to hear testimony bearing on the case.

     According to an expert on such matters, from 1990 to 2011, there have been 239 dingo attacks in Queensland, Australia. Since 1982, at least three children have been killed by these wild dogs. These statistics were presented to make Lindy Chamberlain's account of her baby's death seem less farfetched. While public opinion had already shifted in her favor, she wanted to make it official.

     The coroner's verdict has not been published, but is expected to exonerate the Chamberlains. While there has never been any evidence of foul play in this case, there will always be, notwithstanding the coroner's verdict, doubters. And a lot of this doubt can be traced back to the irresponsible journalism in this case.

     

Penn State Scandal: Child Abuse Coverup?

     Jerry Sandusky faces 52 counts of child molestation involving 10 male victims between the ages 8 to 17. The 68-year-old former football coach under Joe Paterno is awaiting his trial under house arrest. Sandusky was taken into custody in November 2011 along with athletic director Tim Curley and vice president Gary Schultz. Curley and Schultz have been charged with failing to properly report Sandusky's suspected child molestation, and lying to a grand jury. Joe Paterno, tarred by the scandal but not charged, died in January 2011 from lung cancer.

     Eight of Sandusky's eight victims were molested on the Penn State Campus. Another boy, referred to in court papers as Victim 4, was molested in Florida and Texas when the team traveled to these places for games. Sandusky had sex with the tenth victim at the boy's school.

     On February 29, Judge John Cleland denied Sandusky's motion for a two-month trial delay. The prosecutor had asked for a change of venue, but the case will be tried in Penn State country where it will be hard to find, in my view, jurors who are not sympathetic to the defendant.

     Sandusky and the two former university administrators aren't the only Penn State people under investigation. The FBI has entered the case, and on February 2, served a subpoena on the school. The feds are seeking correspondence, computer hard drives, and various other documents that might prove an institutional conspiracy to coverup Sandusky's crimes.

     It hardly stretches the imagination to envision school officials with knowledge of Sandusky's obsession with young boys, molestations, and even accusations of abuse, doing whatever it took to sweep it all under the rug. When it comes to protecting reputations and images, colleges and universities are extremely aggressive. (To get away with overcharging students, campus life has to be presented as four years in paradise.) To this end, schools are capable of bribery, intimidation, and obstruction of justice.