LAPD Still Biased, Gays Allege

More than 10 years after the city of Los Angeles agreed to end discrimination against gays and lesbians in the LAPD, the department can be a hostile, even frightening place for homosexual officers.

“Most gay officers are still in the closet,” said retired Sgt. Mitch Grobeson, 45, who won a court settlement in 1993 requiring the city to provide gay and lesbian officers a discrimination-free workplace. “Those who are openly gay are working in an environment filled with fear.”

The Grobeson settlement mandated recruiting in the gay community and expanding instruction to include topics related to sexual orientation. It said discrimination investigations must be handled with discretion and sensitivity. And it banned disqualifying applicants for promotion because of sexual orientation.

Despite the settlement, 16 homosexual officers, including five who had resigned or retired, said in interviews with The Times that being openly gay slows promotions, makes discipline more likely and jeopardizes careers. Openly gay officers, they said, are not welcome in the vice, juvenile, metro, SWAT, organized crime or anti-terrorism units.

Throughout the department, they said, lesbians are more accepted than gay men. The gay officers cited specific incidents of discrimination, including slurs, harassment and rejection for better assignments.

Some officers said only a few colleagues, including immediate supervisors, knew they were gay. Most requested anonymity, fearing more discrimination, including retaliation, if they complained publicly.

Among the gay officers who consented to be named were:

* Alan Weiner, 45, a training officer in the Van Nuys Division. He was accused of making inappropriate remarks about sodomy and searching crotches for guns. At an administrative disciplinary Board of Rights hearing, Weiner was found not guilty. But by then he had been transferred, demoted and had his pay cut. He was charged again, this time with failing to follow directions. He was acquitted a second time, but his rank and pay were not restored until after he went to court.

* Sgt. Robert Duncan, 42, a Medal of Valor winner at headquarters. His homosexuality was revealed by an ex-lover who accused him of harassment. Duncan was put under surveillance, then accused of unexplained absences. He was relieved of duty. Ultimately, a Board of Rights found that his only transgression had been leaving work early one afternoon and getting a full day’s pay. He was suspended for five days, then told his former job no longer existed.

* John Emmett Smith, 43, a training officer in North Hollywood. Midway through an assignment with vice, his then-boyfriend called police after an argument and disclosed that Smith was gay. He said Smith had placed him in a chokehold. Smith denied it. No charges were filed, but Smith says the incident became known as the “fag caper,” and his career stalled, despite exemplary job evaluations.

Police Chief William J. Bratton scheduled an interview with The Times to discuss the department and its gay officers. After being told -- at his request -- the specifics to be addressed, he canceled the interview, citing pending litigation surrounding some of the incidents. An aide said Bratton, usually willing to discuss police concerns, also declined to talk about matters not under litigation.

Subsequently, Bratton, who has said publicly that he has a sister who is lesbian, granted a brief interview in which he stated that he knew of no stigma to being a gay officer. “The department does an extraordinary job in its actions as it relates to that community,” he said. “I’m certainly committed to giving every member of the department, no matter what their sexual persuasion, opportunities in the organization.”

Bratton said the LAPD has abided by the Grobeson settlement. He said gays are being assimilated into the department and are being recruited and promoted, but he gave no specifics. Bratton’s aide said the chief would not make any of his senior officers available to respond to specific allegations the gay officers made. When he was asked whether gay officers were excluded from certain units, Bratton said, “Gays, lesbians and transsexuals are welcome to work anywhere in the L.A. Police Department.”

Det. Stacey Simmons, a lesbian, said the LAPD was fair-minded about homosexuals. She recalled an instructor at the Police Academy who said he hoped there were “no faggots” in his class. She reported it, and he was sent to a disciplinary hearing, but she said that charges were dropped. Otherwise, she had no complaint. “I’ve been openly gay since Day One, and I’ve had every opportunity.”

The LAPD does not keep track of how many of its officers are gay. Kristi Nielsen, an officer in community relations, estimated that there are about 250 homosexuals among the 9,200 officers in the department and 150 are comfortable enough to be open about their sexual orientation.

But several gay officers said the number of openly gay members is much smaller. Former Deputy Chief David Kalish agreed. He was the department’s highest-ranking openly gay officer until he retired in March amid allegations that he had molested three Explorer Scouts 25 years earlier. Kalish said he was not convinced it was safe for LAPD officers to reveal their homosexuality.

“If I were talking to a young gay officer and he asked me if he should come out, I’d tell him to think long and hard about revealing that aspect of his life,” Kalish said. “Clearly, it’s the right thing to do and would further the causes of civil rights, but the consequences are significant, and it will never be the same again for him. He’ll be labeled as different and susceptible to additional scrutiny, and the discrimination of today can be much more sophisticated than the overt hostility of the past.”

Kalish denied the allegations against him and filed a claim against the city, saying it had defamed him, illegally searched his home and violated his privacy. The city settled, paid for his defense and gave him a pension of nearly $10,000 a month. Kalish declined to discuss the case, but Deputy Dist. Atty. William Hodgman said prosecutors had enough evidence to charge Kalish but did not because of a U.S. Supreme Court decision that struck down a California law being used to pursue the case.

Officer Don Wynne, who teaches cultural diversity at the academy, described the LAPD’s attitude toward gays as “somewhere between acceptance and respect.” He spoke of a recruit, Brian Gossh, who announced to instructors three years ago that he was gay, as a sign of positive change. Wynne, an instructor for 12 years, said, however, that Gossh was the only one to step forward out of about 500 rookies who graduate each year.

And, in retrospect, Gossh regretted doing it. “I think,” he said in an interview, “things would have been easier for me if I hadn’t.”

Would he do it again?

“I think it’s not worth putting my career on the line.”

At the Los Angeles Police Protective League, union President Robert Baker said he was unaware that any gay officers were having problems. “If we felt someone was being discriminated against,” Baker said, “we would come to their aid.”

But several officers, including Duncan, Weiner and Smith, say the union is not helpful to homosexuals. “Trust is earned, not given; they haven’t earned that trust,” said Smith, in the union for 14 years before he ended his membership. “When it comes to gay and lesbian issues, they have defended the status quo.”

Law enforcement generally “remains a profoundly homophobic institution,” said Matt Foreman, executive director of the National Gay and Lesbian Task Force in Washington, D.C. “While gay and lesbian officers are serving in virtually every law enforcement agency, most are afraid to be open about their sexual orientation.”

Among police departments across the nation, San Francisco’s is regarded as a leader against discrimination, Foreman said. It has high-ranking gay and lesbian officers, which “telegraphs very quickly to the department that gay employees can rise up through the ranks and be integrated in the command structure.”

In Los Angeles, the Grobeson settlement was considered a step forward. After Grobeson graduated at the top of his academy class, rumors circulated that he was gay, and he was confronted with threats and offensive cartoons. On one occasion, a dispatcher radioed for backup while Grobeson chased a suspect in gang territory, and no one came to help.

He sued in 1988, accusing the LAPD of harassment and endangering his life. Two unnamed officers joined in the lawsuit. The city settled, giving the three officers a total of $770,000. It was in that agreement that the Police Department pledged to end discrimination.

In 1996, Grobeson sued again, saying the LAPD had failed to enact the reforms it had promised. He retired the next year. His most recent lawsuit is still in court.

An independent firm seeking to assess the department’s efforts to end discrimination against gays and lesbians reported in 2000 that its consultants were denied access. “The LAPD stonewalled us,” said Sharon Hartmann, an attorney who oversaw the evaluation. Hartmann’s team recommended a second study, but it was never done.

A training officer in the Hollywood Division, Jim Parker, 41, said homosexuals are “the last minority that has to be accepted in the department. There’s always an underlying sense that because you are gay, you are going to be treated differently, whether it comes to assignments, discipline, peer interaction or support.”

Part of that sense comes from being scrutinized, even put under official watch. Several officers said that surveillance has been periodically misused to target homosexual officers.

Kalish, for instance, was placed under surveillance, even though the allegations against him were decades old. A police source, speaking on condition of anonymity, said a monitoring device was installed on Kalish’s car and he was followed in undercover cars. The source said Kalish’s trash was collected and searched.

“If you are gay and they want to surveil you and find out what you are doing, they’re going to,” said Duncan, who was put under surveillance for two weeks. “They used surveillance in my case to determine whether or not it was true that I was gay.”

That violates trust, gay officers say, and a cop’s world is all about trust. “I depend on the guy next to me. He may have to save my life,” said a nine-year veteran. “And probably 40% of the guys are uncomfortable with the gay thing.”

One gay South Bureau officer said he left another police department because of homophobia. “But I always felt like I had been robbed of what I wanted to do,” he said.

His lover of eight years bridled at the secrecy of their relationship, and the officer’s career choice contributed to their breakup.

“I’m a chameleon, and you have to be. You learn for survival how to blend in. It takes a great toll. I know I’m a good police officer, yet I have the fear that if I come out, I’m going to be excluded from the team or not accepted.

“It’s sad, isn’t it?”

Showing His Colors Brings a Backlash

For Alan Weiner, it started with his rainbow ring.

A tiny plaque of rainbow colors is embedded in his silver band. Weiner bought a watch with a matching rainbow band, an indication of pride in the gay community.

He had worn the ring and the watchband for several months at the North Hollywood Division when a sergeant relayed an order from the captain: Remove the jewelry.

Weiner was appalled. It was a rainbow, he said later in an interview. Seven slivers of color, not a swastika, not a Confederate flag.

“When a patrol car drives by, you can tell when there’s black officers, Hispanic officers or female officers,” Weiner said. “How does a gay person know? It’s just a subtle way of saying to the gay community, ‘We’re out there. You don’t have to be scared of police, because some of us are gay.’ ”

Weiner contested his captain’s order, and the dispute went to an LAPD ombudsman. The ombudsman said his own class ring was bigger and more ostentatious, Weiner recalled. The order was rescinded.

But the incident served as a wake-up call.

“If they want to find something, they’re going to find something,” Weiner said. “If they mark you, they can do what they want. Nobody will say anything.”

Weiner let colleagues know that he was gay in 1991, three years after joining the LAPD. By that time, he believed he had earned a reputation as a good cop. He was one of few LAPD officers to win a Master’s Award, for apprehending drivers in stolen cars.

“When I came out, it was the biggest relief,” he said. “I wasn’t going to hide anymore. I just got tired of playing games, of acting straight. As long as you do a good job, know your job, why not be yourself? Why be something you are not?”

Three years after the ring incident, Weiner was in trouble again.

By now, he had transferred to the Hollywood Division, where he was a training officer. A personnel complaint was filed against him because of a conversation he’d had with a rookie.

Normally, the ranking officer in charge of a division decides on whether personnel complaints are worth pursuing at a board of rights. In Weiner’s case, the captain in charge decided there was insufficient evidence to prove guilt or innocence -- typical in a case involving a one-on-one conversation.

The captain’s decision, however, was overridden by a commander, and Weiner was charged with two counts of making inappropriate remarks. A board of rights was convened.

Before it could determine his guilt or innocence, Weiner was sent to Van Nuys and stripped of training-officer status, a demotion in rank that cut his pay 5.5%, said Brad Gage, his attorney. The demotion, Gage said, damaged Weiner’s ability to be promoted. “It’s a red flag that will haunt him the rest of his career.”

At his board of rights hearing, according to transcripts, witnesses agreed that the trouble developed this way:

About 6:30 a.m., May 26, 2000, in the Hollywood Division parking lot, Weiner spoke to Michael De Pasquale Jr., a rookie assigned to Skip Giuliani, another training officer. Weiner was smoking a cigarette before starting his shift. De Pasquale was nearby finishing paperwork.

Weiner asked how the night shift had gone.

De Pasquale, only six months out of the academy, mentioned ticketing a gypsy cabdriver.

Weiner cautioned him about the importance of conducting thorough searches. He added that during one training exercise, 29 of his 31 probationary officers had missed guns hidden below the belt.

Two witnesses who were not present at the time of the exchange -- Giuliani and De Pasquale’s father, a veteran LAPD detective -- testified against Weiner about what happened next.

According to sealed portions of the transcripts, obtained by The Times, Giuliani testified that De Pasquale told him Weiner had made a remark about sodomizing the gypsy cabdriver. It was because of that, Giuliani said, that he had initiated the personnel complaint.

The transcripts show that Giuliani said he told officers investigating the complaint: “I’ve got nothing against fags; that’s not what this is about.”

De Pasquale’s father testified that his son had told him he “was hit on,” according to the transcripts, and that Weiner wanted his son to search Weiner’s crotch for a gun.

Weiner denied their accusations.

When the younger De Pasquale took the stand, he testified that Weiner had, in fact, never asked him to conduct a search, according to the transcripts. De Pasquale said he saw Weiner’s rainbow ring and “freaked out.” He said he experienced a “brain meltdown” and that he could not remember details of the conversation.

Ultimately, Weiner was unanimously found not guilty.

His problems, however, were hardly over.

Now he faced a second hearing, initiated by his superiors because of information from the first hearing. They said it supported two counts of failing to follow directions.

Those charges noted that in 1999, after he and two other training officers had instructed a probationary officer to search Weiner’s crotch area for a hidden weapon, Weiner had been advised that, “due to his very open sexual orientation, there may be times he could not use the same training techniques that heterosexual officers could.” Despite the warning, the charges said, two years later Weiner had asked another probationary officer to conduct a similar search.

At this hearing, a probationary officer testified that the search Weiner asked him to do was the same as the ones that he had done in the academy.

Again, Weiner was found not guilty by a unanimous verdict.

His rank, however, was not restored until May 2003, Gage said, after Weiner had joined a lawsuit on behalf of officers who had been downgraded in rank without administrative appeal. He was awarded back pay.

“If this had been a straight person, would all this have gone on?” Weiner said. “No. That’s my personal opinion. I knew it was about being gay.”

Weiner became a training officer in Van Nuys. He sued the city of Los Angeles, Giuliani, former Police Chief Bernard C. Parks, Deputy Chief Gary J. Brennan and Lt. Adam Bercovici, a watch commander. Weiner alleged discrimination, harassment, retaliation and failure to investigate and take corrective action.

The city tentatively settled his lawsuit last week “for a substantial sum,” Gage said. He declined to say how much.

“The future has to start somewhere,” Weiner said. “What if Rosa Parks hadn’t gotten in that bus? It has to start with one person, and there has to be enough momentum.”

A Relationship Sours,

a Career Is Tarnished

After joining the LAPD in 1984, Robert Wayne Duncan decided to keep his sexuality a secret. “I wanted to be judged by the work I do,” he said, “not who I sleep with.”

In 1998, he began a relationship with Mario Guerrero, a Marine reservist who was attending college. It ended badly. On Jan. 28, 2002, Guerrero wrote to Duncan’s supervisor, LAPD Cmdr. James McMurray, saying that Duncan had harassed him with e-mails and threatened to circulate video clips of him in intimate sexual positions.

McMurray referred the matter to Internal Affairs. Although the LAPD has a domestic violence unit to handle such disputes, Duncan’s case went to Special Operations, a unit that typically handles complex felony investigations. Detectives talked to Guerrero, who told them about the videos. According to their report, he added that Duncan had tried to force him to have sex once during the previous year.

The investigators did not talk to Duncan, the report shows.

Instead, according to a Whittier police report, the LAPD investigators urged Guerrero to tell officers in Whittier, where Duncan lived, about the alleged assault.

The police report said Guerrero could not remember details, such as when the alleged assault happened, whether it was during the afternoon or evening. Guerrero, the report added, balked at returning for a follow-up.

Whittier police spoke with Duncan. He denied Guerrero’s allegations, according to their report, and said Guerrero had become “very jealous” because Duncan had gotten involved with someone else. Officer Alan dela Pena, a Whittier police spokesman, said: “It sounded to me like the relationship didn’t work out the way he [Guerrero] wanted.” The district attorney declined to pursue the matter, Whittier police said.

LAPD investigators told a Los Angeles city attorney about Guerrero’s allegations, and the city attorney “did not see any crime involved with the case, except the ... domestic violence incident,” according to an Internal Affairs report.

The LAPD put Duncan under surveillance, police reports showed. Three days later, on Feb. 1, McMurray, his boss, handed him a stay-away order: Have no contact with Guerrero.

The timing of the surveillance seemed odd, Det. Sandy Lefler, McMurray’s former aide and now Bratton’s legislative liaison, said in a deposition, because it predated the stay-away order.

Seven Special Operations officers spent two weeks following Duncan, according to an internal police report. Duncan did not visit Guerrero, but on three days, the Special Operations team said, he left work early. On Dec. 17, nearly 11 months after Guerrero first wrote to Duncan’s boss, the LAPD investigators finally questioned Duncan -- but only about leaving work early.

Ten days later, he was told to surrender his weapon and to stop identifying himself as a police officer. A month later, on Jan. 27, 2003, he received a copy of a complaint accusing him of unexplained absences. The complaint also aired Guerrero’s allegations, revealing to a growing number of Duncan’s fellow officers that he was gay.

Duncan was stunned. He had been assured several times, he said, that his sexual orientation would not be disclosed.

He was ordered before a board of rights.

In response, he alleged police misconduct and cited the LAPD manual prohibiting discrimination.

He was relieved of duty.

“Retaliatory? You bet,” Duncan said in an interview. “You don’t relieve people of duty for timekeeping issues.”

In her deposition, Lefler, Bratton’s legislative liaison, said she had never heard of anyone being sent to a board of rights for leaving work early.

On March 12, Duncan was served with an amended complaint. This one removed the statements about his homosexuality but charged him with five counts, all involving failure to remain at his assignment on three days.

After hearing testimony, the board of rights found him guilty of only two counts: leaving his assignment early without approval for one day and getting paid for the full day.

He was suspended for five days.

He was offered a patrol job. He asked about his old job at headquarters. He and his attorney, Jon Cantor, said he was told it no longer existed.

In August 2003, Duncan, who was on leave, sued, saying that high-ranking LAPD officers had failed to keep their investigation confidential, exposed him to the “rumor mill” and destroyed his career because he is homosexual.

He alleges intentional emotional distress and a hostile work environment.

That November, he was arrested on a charge of drunk driving, later reduced to driving recklessly with alcohol in his system. In March 2004, federal officials seized his home computer, alleging he had purchased child pornography. After an investigation, officials said, no evidence of pornography was found, and the case was closed.

The following month, Internal Affairs investigators questioned him about the drunk driving charge. Only then, more than two years after Guerrero’s “domestic violence” accusations, did Internal Affairs ask Duncan about them, according to records in Duncan’s lawsuit. He denied the allegations.

Earlier this fall, the LAPD told Duncan it was lodging six new charges against him. Four alleged that he had “inappropriately removed Guerrero’s clothing,” physically restrained him, “forced [him] up a staircase against his will” and unnecessarily become involved in domestic violence.

Currently, according to an LAPD report, those four allegations are considered “not resolved,” and no disciplinary action has been suggested.

The other two charges related to whether a Duncan request to Guerrero’s superiors in the Marine Corps Reserve to investigate and help disprove his allegations had violated a restraining order. A judge already had ruled that it had not. Nonetheless, the LAPD investigated. A department report declared those two charges to be unfounded.

At the end of the proceedings, the LAPD told Duncan he faced a 10-day suspension for driving under the influence of alcohol and failing to identify himself as a police officer.

“I don’t trust the LAPD. I don’t trust that they won’t do something to protect themselves because there are careers at stake,” Duncan said. “They’ve ruined my life.”

Despite High Praise, ‘Doors Are Closed’

In John Emmett Smith’s evaluations, supervisors praised the 20-year LAPD veteran’s performance.

“John is an outstanding patrol officer,” one report said.

Another called Smith “dedicated, hard working” and “doggedly relentless.”

“John Smith is the most productive, most knowledgeable, and most effective police officer in [the] North Hollywood Area,” said yet another report, covering 12 months beginning September 2001.

He was named officer of the year in his division.

As recently as August, officers on his shift averaged two felony and two misdemeanor arrests monthly. Smith had nine felony and 18 misdemeanor arrests.

So when he was passed over for a job this spring, he drew one conclusion:

“It’s based on the fact that I’m openly gay,” he said in an interview. “To put 20 years, so much time into my job, and I am not much farther along career-wise than when I started. The only thing I can attribute it to is that I am gay. Doors are closed.”

It had happened before.

To win a spot with the Hollywood vice unit in 1989, he had lied. He recalled the job interview this way:

“Are you a fag?”

“No.”

“Do you have a girlfriend?”

“No, not a steady one.”

It worked, but when Smith was midway through his 14-month assignment with vice, his then-boyfriend called police and alleged that Smith had put him in a chokehold. Smith denied it. The boyfriend, according to a supervisor’s log, was difficult to interview because he was drunk. The next day, the boyfriend recanted. Hours later, he renewed his accusations.

Word spread that Smith was gay. He said a chill set in among some colleagues.

Nonetheless, he worked with a hand-picked team of vice officers on a prostitution enforcement detail.

Smith “is a hard charging, motivated young officer,” said one report covering six months beginning March 26, 1989.

He “makes major contributions” and “superlatives don’t justly describe Officer Smith’s dedication to duty,” said another report, for the following six months.

After completing his vice assignment, Smith returned to patrol for a year and was promoted to training officer. An evaluation report said: “To say that Officer Smith is an outstanding officer is an understatement.”

Nonetheless, when he applied for another stint with vice, Smith said, he was turned down twice. In a letter dated Oct. 11, 1991, Capt. John L. Higgins, then commanding officer in Hollywood, informed Smith that he had not gotten the job.

“All of us involved in the decision were highly impressed with the caliber of candidates, which made the decision quite difficult,” Higgins wrote. “Although you were not selected, I appreciate your interest.”

“They never tell you why,” Smith said. “The only difference between when I was with Hollywood vice and when I applied [for subsequent assignments] was that now I was out.”

This month, Smith applied for two other jobs. He was turned down.

Viewing LAPD From Straight and Gay Sides

Before he divorced and realized he was gay, Officer Jim Parker attended the Police Academy with his wife. After graduation, Parker experienced the LAPD as a straight officer and then as a gay officer.

Initially, he kept his homosexuality a secret.

One night, while he and five other officers were talking about a case, one of them, who was openly gay, walked away, and another made a cruel remark.

“It always reminded me that no matter how friendly people may be,” Parker said, “it’ll be different when you turn your back.”

In 1995, rumors spread that Parker was gay. He received an unsigned interoffice letter filled with slurs. He took it to his supervisors, but he never was interviewed and there was no investigation.

“I’m sure,” he said, “if it had been a female or a black officer, it would have been made a priority.”

Being in the LAPD as a heterosexual had been much easier, Parker recalled thinking at the time. Sometimes, he said, he wonders if his chances for promotion have been affected by the fact that he is gay.

“You always wonder,” he said, “would this be the same had you been a straight officer?”

*

Times researcher Nona Yates contributed to this report.