There Are Worse Things Than Thieves

The Washington Post reports two dozen officers face charges ranging from attempted murder, assault, grand larceny and drunken driving. (Fahrenthold, October 26, 2003).

I worked downtown Minneapolis for about nine years. One night, after bar closing, my partner and I were walking our beat when we found a badly beaten prostitute sitting propped up against a commercial dumpster. I knew this woman, but it took me a minute to recognize her. There was blood running from her mouth and nose, and her face was turning black and blue. Her jaw appeared to be broken from the angle it was at and she was having trouble breathing. Unable to get her to her feet we called for an ambulance and we questioned her about what happened. Evasive and angry she eventually said “It was two cops.”

I knew there were some cops who thought a good thumping was more effective than a trip to jail but I never actually saw anyone do it and I had never heard a cop accused of assault. Although she did reveal her assailants she refused to make a report saying they’d told her “If you ever snitch us off, we will kill you.”

These two cops were known for their brutality on the street. My partner immediately told me he wanted “nothing to do with it” and “she refused to say who beat her up.” He reminded me that this was “a whore who routinely robbed her tricks” and, in fact as far as he was concerned, that’s what happened. “Only this time she robbed the wrong guy and paid for it!” I was really disappointed in my partner. He was a good cop and an honest man, but he was going to stick to the Code for two guys he knew were brutal and dishonest because he knew everyone would cover for them.

He lectured me not to snitch on these two guys because they were protected, and dangerous. I took some time to think about this one and decided to go along because it had been a couple years since I’d drawn any heat from other cops, and I kind of liked it that way – at least for now.

A few days later my lieutenant asked me to join him and the Deputy Chief of Police for lunch in a place known for its nighttime drug dealing. I had been thinking a lot about the hooker, and the allegation she made about the two cops. Halfway through our meal I laid out the whole story. The Deputy Chief did not even raise an eyebrow. My Lieutenant, on the other hand, was sitting across the table from me and going through visible contortions trying to get me to stop talking. But I continued, and when I was finished the Deputy Chief looked me in the eye and said “It was right to bring this to me. Have you told anyone else?” I told him “No” and that my partner was no help either. He said “That’s OK, I’ll take care of it.” That magic, loaded phrase. It should have been a tip to me.

Two nights later I was walking through the courthouse, in uniform. One of the officers I had accused of assault grabbed me by the front of my jacket and pushed me into a corner. With his face touching mine he whispered with nearly fatal halitosis, “If you ever snitch us off again I will kill you.” Then he walked away. The admission in his statement was both chilling and telling. He didn’t say “accuse me”; he said “snitch us off” - the same threat he’d used with the prostitute, and I believed him.

My head was spinning. The thought that I could be killed or have a serious accident as a result of telling the truth about rotten cops was a learning experience I was getting real tired of relearning.