Date: Thu, 26 Jan 1995 03:52:30 -0500 From: DarylCA@aol.com Subject: Police Gay Bashing Los Angeles Police Officers Involved in Gay Bashing? ===================================================== ACTION ALERT ============= What follows is an excerpt of an article from the New York Times which describes what could only be described as gay bashing by several uniformed on-duty Los Angeles Police Officers. In the article, a young gay Hispanic man telephoned the police because he had just been robbed. Upon arrival of officers at the scene, not only did they let the robbery suspects go, but they proceeded to verbally berate and assault the victim based upon his sexual orientation. This EXTREMELY disturbing treatment of this man by the LAPD is intolerable. This information is being forwarded to you as an Action Alert. PLEASE, write and phone the Los Angeles Police Department and let them know how you feel about this incident. Remember, as long as police officers like this feel free to act in this manner, none of us is safe. All responses should be sent to: Chief Willie L. Williams Los Angeles Police Department 150 North Los Angeles Street Los Angeles, CA 90012 (213) 485-3202 Voice (213) 485-8861 FAX A sample letter follows below: Dear Chief Williams, I am writing to you today to express my utter disgust and dismay at the manner in which several of your officers treated the victim of a crime who they presumed to be gay. The incident, which was described in the Sunday, January 22, 1995, issue of the New York Times paints the Los Angeles Police Department in an extremely negative light. In fact, the actions of your officers clearly amount to a gay-bashing of a crime victim by working police officers. This situation is completely intolerable. Time and time again we hear that police officers want to be considered professionals; nevertheless, before this can occur, they must earn the trust of the public they are sworn to protect and serve. This latest incident of insidious police treatment further illustrates the rampant homophobia within the LAPD which was so well documented by the Christopher Commission. The fact that your officers felt so comfortable in displaying their heterosexist and racist actions in full view of a news reporter and his photographer demonstrates the epitome of arrogance and disrespect for others. I demand that you began an immediate inquiry into this situation. The officers involved in this incident clearly pose a danger to the public at-large. Therefore, I urge you to immediately remove them from patrol duties and suspend them from the Department pending an investigation into this matter. Nothing less will be acceptable. I very much want to hear your explanation of this atrocity and look forward to receiving a response from you. Sincerely, Your Name Reprinted Without Permission from the New York Times Magazine, Sunday, January 22, 1994. By Richard Rayner LOS ANGELES- The Los Angeles Police Department was number one. Then came Rodney King and the riots and, inevitably, the orders that racism, sexism, and excessive force must be terminated-- "yeah, right." ... after riding with officers for several hours, at last there's something. Three beeps on the radio, a robbery in progress down on Olympic Boulevard, three suspects and the magic words, "armed with a gun." It's a Code 3 call, meaning lights and sirens, and several cars at once speed from different directions. Officer DoF1a gets up to 60, 70, while at cross streets Officer Edwards hits oncoming traffic with a searchlight. Now the night has meaning, but then it's the voice of the radio traffic operator again, downgrading the call--no gun. The car slows, the lights, the sirens go off, and when we get to the strip mall at Olympic Boulevard and Alvarado Avenue, two of the suspects have vanished. Eight officers, all male, have spilled out of four cars and surrounded two men: the remaining suspect, who is cuffed, and the victim, with bleached-blond hair, diamante studs in his ears, and blue makeup smeared around tearful eyes. "What's your name?" says Officer Stout, a real Marine Corps type whose neck is wider than the top of his head. "My name is Julien, officer," he says. "He looks like Billy Idol," says one of the other officers. "Yeah, but he acts like Boy George," says Stout. Julien is 19. The suspect has no gun, no stolen property, no evidence. And since the other suspects have vanished, they're going to have to let him go as well; with just Julien's story against his, there's no arrest. In a disbelieving voice, Julien asks why. He doesn't get it. He has just been robbed. "Whaddya want?" asks Stout. "I want my stuff back. I want you to arrest this guy." Stout explains that the suspect didn't have Julien's stuff, and so couldn't be arrested. He asks again, "Whaddya want?" "I want to be like you guys," Julien says. "I wanna be able to do just what I like." It's enough. In this encounter with power, Julien has been whiny and, now, tactless. He has demonstrated lack of respect, and so it begins. "Hey, you can't" says Stout, standing back, hands on hips. "There's eight studs here and I'm looking at you and I don't see no stud." As Julian turns his head to and from, Stout gets going in earnest. "Did I say you could move? Stand still you [expletive] faggot. You're a faggot aren't you? You look like a faggot...Hey, you got AIDS?" This isn't even street justice. Julien is the victim here, the guy who was robbed and thought that calling the LAPD might actually be a good idea. He got more than he bargained for, because he presumed not to disguise that he was gay and ran up against some cops pumping too much testosterone on a slow night. Suddenly Julien sinks to his knees, spreads his arms, and starts to wail: he has been robbed of all of the money he had, $56, as well as his driver's license and his passport: his mother has died, he has nothing to live for, no home to go to. "This is an insane person," Julien says. "I'm a sissy. Let me go. I want to kill myself. I wanna kill myself because of people like you. I've never had any luck going to the cops." Officer DoF1a is taken by surprise, not so much by Stout's behavior as by this sudden and awkward revelation of frailty, of another's humanity. Julien repeats that he's going to try to kill himself; easy to believe. He's so desperate and sad. Officer DoF1a asks where he's from and if he has any where to stay. "Is there something we can do?" "Yeah, kill me," says Julien, and stumbles across the street, toting his one remaining possession, a six-pack of Coke. Afterward, DoF1a sags, the fizz all gone out of him. He squeezes his forehead between thumb and forefinger. "That wasn't right," he says. PLEASE HELP TO STOP THIS SITUATION. WRITE TO CHIEF WILLIAMS. LET YOUR VOICE BE HEARD!