City Employee Cites Religious Beliefs in Defending His Stand

City employee Leon Crowder, the lone juror whose staunch belief in Mayor Roger Hedgecock’s innocence saved Hedgecock from a felony conviction and forced a mistrial, isn’t fretting over the controversy he created.

Crowder said Thursday that he went home with a clear conscience and slept soundly after a Superior Court judge determined Wednesday that, thanks to Crowder, jury deliberations were hopelessly deadlocked and Hedgecock’s case would have to be heard again.

During deliberations, the 11 other members of the jury voted to convict Hedgecock on conspiracy and perjury charges, but Crowder refused to go along with them, saving the mayor by what prosecutors described as “the skin of his teeth.”

It was an unlikely role for the soft-spoken and religious Crowder, a 37-year-old garbage collections supervisor who has a taste for fine clothes and gold jewelry (he wears five rings).

Crowder said he slept peacefully Wednesday night, untroubled by the rumbling dispute attributed to him. He awoke refreshed at 4:30 a.m. Thursday and, as is his habit, spent half an hour sipping herbal tea and reading the Old Testament (“II Chronicles”) before driving from his house in East San Diego to his job at the Rose Canyon sanitation plant.

Crowder supervises five garbage collection trucks during the winter and six in the summer.

Upon returning to work after nearly three months on jury duty, Crowder found himself somewhat the hero. He received several congratulatory telephone calls while co-workers expressed admiration that he would stand by his beliefs. But their admiration of Crowder’s courage didn’t stop the garbage collectors from gently kidding him.

“I heard a couple of the guys ask him if he planned on being promoted soon to city manager and stuff like that,” said fellow supervisor Dick Tato. “He seemed to take it pretty well and everybody got a good laugh.”

However, not all of Crowder’s co-workers were as good-humored.

“Everybody should stand up for their convictions, but there should have been a conviction in this case,” said one. “This trial lasted for months and for what? The other jurors said he wouldn’t listen to reason and I believe them. Leon can be pretty stubborn when he wants to.”

Crowder admitted that he is often rigid in his beliefs.

“God teaches us to be fair and to be accurate and to be a righteous people,” he said. “If you believe in something deeply, it would be dishonest to turn away from that feeling.”

The rest of his day--except for the myriad media interviews he patiently granted--was spent normally. He drove a city-owned pickup truck to Clairemont to help dispatch refuse collection trucks before knocking off work at 3 p.m. No one ridiculed him; no one recognized him, even though his face has been splashed across the front pages of local newspapers and displayed prominently on television.

Crowder said he believes Hedgecock owes him nothing for the stand Crowder took while deliberating his fate. Accordingly, Crowder said he wasn’t surprised or upset when Hedgecock failed to call him Thursday offering his heart-felt gratitude.

But if Hedgecock had telephoned, Crowder said he might have considered imparting a bit of advice: For his own good, the mayor ought to find God. And the sooner, the better.

“I would encourage Roger Hedgecock . . . if he’s not already a born-again Christian, to become one, because that’s the only way he or anyone else will be able to enter the kingdom of God,” said Crowder, who became “born again” two years ago after watching a television program featuring Los Angeles area minister Frederick K.C. Price. He said his wife is also a born-again Christian.

It was the Holy Spirit that convinced him of Hedgecock’s innocence, Crowder said. He also credited his religious beliefs with bolstering him against the pressure applied by the other jurors who insisted that Hedgecock was guilty.

Other jurors have accused Crowder of sleeping during deliberations and refusing to examine evidence presented during the three-month trial--allegations which Crowder repeatedly denied.

“It’s ludicrous and it’s a lie,” he said Thursday. Crowder noted that he spent time praying for divine guidance during deliberations, yet received no clear-cut revelations.

“But the Holy Spirit always leads in truth and that’s what I feel happened,” he said.

A San Diego native who spent four years attending San Diego City College, Crowder worked at several various odd jobs, including assembling airplane parts for General Dynamics, before accepting a job with the city 15 years ago. He drove a garbage truck, worked for the Parks and Recreation Department and returned seven years ago to the sanitation department as a supervisor.

In 1978, San Diego police stopped Crowder as he and some friends were leaving a party. A “swear word or two” might have been directed toward the officers, and Crowder wound up spending five days in the County Jail before pleading guilty to disturbing the peace.

Crowder said his distasteful jail experience didn’t influence his decision to defend Hedgecock, who could be imprisoned if convicted. Nor was Crowder influenced by the fact that Hedgecock--at least indirectly--is his boss.

“I treated him like I would any other citizen,” Crowder said. “I had to give him the same respect and judgment that I would anybody else and I would expect the same from him if he were judging me.”

This weekend, while many will continue to debate the Hedgecock mistrial and fret over what will become of San Diego’s embattled mayor and dented image, Crowder plans to be in his backyard, chopping weeds and tending to his neglected flower beds.

He said he plans to be pragmatic about his new-found notoriety.

“Two weeks from now, when people hear the name, Leon Crowder, they’ll still say, ‘Oh, yeah, he’s that juror who wouldn’t go along with everybody else,’ ” Crowder said. “But I can live with that.”