Matt
Roth for The New York Times
Commissioner
Frederick H. Bealefeld III, left, has brought Grayling G. Williams, right, a
former counternarcotics chief in the Department of Homeland Security, to lead
an anticorruption division in Baltimore’s Police Department.
By
THEO EMERY
BALTIMORE — Tucked behind a
liquor store, opposite a flooring company, Majestic Body Shop was an
unremarkable sight amid a blur of commercial properties just east of the city
limits. But the police cars that always seemed to be parked at the repair shop
caught the eyes of passing drivers. The F.B.I. noticed as well — agents were videotaping Majestic and
tapping its phone
Mr.
Williams was picked to lead the anticorruption division in the aftermath of a
kickback scheme involving a body shop.
What the investigation
revealed was startling: a bribery racket suspected to involve kickbacks to
dozens of Baltimore police officers.
The scheme to divert cars
damaged in traffic accidents to the body shop in return for payoffs resulted in
one of the widest police corruption scandals in Baltimore history. This week, a
10th officer will be sentenced to prison, one of 14 officers who pleaded guilty
to federal extortion charges. One trial ended in conviction, another officer
pleaded guilty in state court and at least 14 suspended officers still face
departmental discipline and possible state charges.
The scandal delivered a
body blow to a police force that has struggled to win public confidence. The
sheer number of officers involved stunned department veterans and civilians
alike.
In the aftermath,
Commissioner Frederick H. Bealefeld III — who invited the F.B.I. to investigate
the force — brought in Grayling G. Williams, the Department of Homeland
Security’s former counternarcotics chief, to head the division charged with
rooting out corruption. The previous director had been ousted for socializing
with an officer indicted on a charge of heroin trafficking. “We want to do a
better job,” Mr. Williams said, “and we want this to be the Police Department
that the public wants.”
Mr. Bealefeld, 49, who
recently announced plans to retire in August after 31 years on the force, will
almost certainly be remembered for reducing the city’s crime and murder rates
as well as for his aggressive anticorruption efforts, including the Majestic
case. He acknowledged that the corruption cases during his five years as
commissioner had been trying, but said “it comes with the territory.”
And he made no apologies
for his efforts to change the department’s direction and shed its troubled
image reinforced — unfairly, Mr. Bealefeld contended — by the fictional
television drama “The Wire.”
“I made clear from the very
beginning that I would hold bad cops accountable,” he said.
The Baltimore case was
unusual for the large number of officers involved; police corruption typically
involves only a small number of officers.
“The big takedowns, the
pervasive corruption” are uncommon, said Kevin L. Perkins, the F.B.I.’s acting
executive assistant director for criminal and cyber operations.
The scheme began when
Officer Jhonn S. Corona struck a deal to bring business to two brothers, Hernan
Moreno Mejia and Edwin Mejia, the body shop’s owners. All three have pleaded
guilty; Mr. Corona received a sentence of two and a half years last month.
The plan worked like this:
Officers who summon a tow truck to accident scenes are required to use
so-called medallion tow trucks authorized by the city; instead, they would call
the Mejia brothers, who would send a nonmedallion truck.
Each time a car reached
Majestic, officers received several hundred dollars. Some damaged the cars more
to increase the insurance payout. The scheme grew as Mr. Corona recruited other
officers, who in turn brought in more colleagues, until at least 51 were
involved. Court documents from one defendant suggest 59 officers made calls to
the brothers.
Even before the Majestic
case came to light, Mr. Bealefeld had worried that internal oversight was
failing and had turned to the F.B.I. because of rumors of criminality on the
force, including the officer who was eventually indicted on a charge of dealing
heroin.
The turning point came
after Paula Protani, an employee of a medallion towing company and the vice
president of a towing association, filed a complaint in August 2009 that the
police passed to the F.B.I. The agency began recording calls between the
brothers and officers. Bank records revealed that the brothers paid between
$200,000 and $1 million to the officers.
“It was quick, easy money
in their pockets,” Ms. Protani said.
As the operation continued,
the scope of the graft took shape. Rather than play down the case, Mr.
Bealefeld sought to make an example of the officers.
When the time came last
year to make arrests in the case, Mr. Bealefeld and federal agents lured the 17
officers facing federal charges to the police academy, where Mr. Bealefeld
confronted them and stripped them of their badges before agents led them away
in handcuffs. To ensure that future officers knew about it, he summoned two
academy recruits to watch.
The commissioner has been
aggressive in his efforts to mend the department’s reputation, said Rod J.
Rosenstein, the United States attorney for Maryland.
“He knows that there has
been a problem,” Mr. Rosenstein said. “He’s personally committed to doing
everything he can to hold accountable corrupt police officers in order to
change the culture of the organization.”
Mayor Stephanie Rawlings-Blake,
whose predecessor stepped down in a plea deal related to corruption, said the
Majestic case had been a “double-edged sword,” revealing graft to prove that
the city did not sweep it under the rug.
“I understand the risks in
all of that,” she said, “but I know that in the long run, it’s the best thing
for the city.”
Had enough? Write to the Speaker of the House, U.S. House of Representatives, Washington, DC 20515 and demand federal
hearings into the police problem in America.
Demand mandatory body cameras for cops, one strike rule on abuse, and a
permanent DOJ office on Police
Misconduct.