Asians Beginning to Believe Police Are the Good Guys

At first, no one came to ask for help.

And no wonder. Acceptance of police does not come easily for people who have witnessed corruption and brutality among law enforcement in their homelands.

But the Cambodian, Hmong, Lao and Vietnamese community service officers hired by the San Diego Police Department in 1987 to open a Euclid Avenue storefront office say the Indochinese community is finally beginning to trust the police.

Next week marks the two-year anniversary for the community service officers, who say the community now accepts them, calling for help and providing tips to other crimes in the area as well.

Contacts on the Rise

During the storefront’s first month in 1987, there were 49 walk-in cases and 85 phone calls. Last month, there were 212 visits and 633 calls. The staff now receives about five crime reports a day,

up from three to five crime reports a week two years ago.

These days, residents bring fried shrimp, Cambodian pickles and exotic seafoods to the officers. Rape--traditionally taboo to even mention in Indochinese cultures--is now being reported by residents, and parents are calling to ask officers to help straighten out their wayward children.

“The community has accepted us and is giving us tremendous input on their wants, needs and concerns,” said Indochinese liaison D. K. Abbott, who directs the operation and estimates San Diego’s Indochinese refugee population at 50,000.

Pham Sinh is a Vietnamese community service officer who has intimate knowledge of the dark side of law enforcement. He was tortured and imprisoned for six years by Vietnamese Communists when his government fell in 1975. After standing in his own excrement for several months, he finally escaped in a leaky boat with his wife, 9-month-old son and 132 other refugees.

“I don’t like the police at home because, when I was young, I fought with them. They were corrupt,” Pham said.

Pematokyryrasmey Chhun, a Cambodian community service officer who also serves at the Euclid storefront, said: “When American officers arrive at a crime scene, the (Cambodian) victims are so afraid to give information because in Cambodia you can be put in jail, asked for bribes. . . . You make a single mistake and you can be killed. They are so scared of authority.”

Getting the Word Out

To show that the police really are here to serve and protect, the community service officers visit schools, classes in English as a second language, business organizations and religious groups to pass out pamphlets and teach people when and how to call the police. The East San Diego storefront is even equipped with a Laotian typewriter; a Cambodian model is on order.

Ping Yang, a Hmong community service officer who escaped Laos by swimming across the Mekong River, said he tells young people experimenting with drugs that “you have to sacrifice your life to give money to somebody else . . . and that makes no sense.”

Chhun said he tells fellow Cambodians, “I work for the Police Department, but I am the same color as you.” He also tries to discourage youngsters from joining the AKB (Asian Killer Boys) and the OBW (Oriental Boy Warriors), two Cambodian gangs that fight turf wars, burglarize homes and businesses and brandish guns--but stop short of shooting people.

“I tell them I was also crazy when I was young. I was on riot--striking against the Cambodian government--but I never brought the problems home to my parents. If you were in Cambodia now, your parents would not have the money to support you to go to school. Here, you have opportunity and chance,” Chhun said.

Do they listen? Chhun is confident that they do. “The most important thing is the family name,” he said. “If you ruin that, you are not really Cambodian anymore.”

Getting Program Off Ground

The Indochinese program, although started in 1983, did not really get off the ground until the eight officers were hired May 22, 1987.

Unlike other community service officers, those in the Indochinese program can write crime reports and submit them to the district attorney’s office. They also become involved in “crisis intervention,” assisting other police officers, sheriff’s deputies and FBI agents who do not speak the Indochinese languages and sometimes do not understand the Indochinese cultures.

In a speech to a visiting group of criminal justices and legal experts from several other countries earlier this week, Abbott told of a police officer puzzled by a Vietnamese suspect who refused to look him in the eye. “He’s so guilty, he can’t look me in the eye,” the officer reportedly said.

“Of course not,” Abbott said. “That’s cultural. He’s not supposed to look a senior in the eye. It’s disrespectful.”

Domestic Problems

In the Cambodian community, the biggest problem is domestic violence, closely followed by runaway juveniles, Chhun said.

“The Cambodian husband considers himself king of the household . . . and he feels the Cambodian wife has more freedom here than back in Cambodia. Sometimes the Cambodian wife says, ‘I can go to work, I can visit friends, you can’t treat me like you do back in Cambodia,’ ” Chhun said. The husband then beats his wife.

Although a Cambodian wife will almost never press charges against her husband for fear of retaliation, Chhun said the counseling the officers give has resulted in a decrease in domestic-violence crimes in the last two years.

“More than 10 times a month I would get a call . . . now it’s just one or two a month,” he said. “Same with juvenile runaways. There have been no reports of missing juveniles in the last couple of months. Before, they drove me crazy.”

In the Vietnamese community, the most common crimes are car burglaries, auto theft and gang violence, according to Tuan Ngoc Nguyen, a community service officer who was recently honored by the San Diego Refugee Coalition for distinguished community service.

“When we first opened the office,” he said, “we found robberies occurred because when a (Vietnamese) suspect knocked on the door, the (Vietnamese) victim would open the door and say, ‘Who are you?’ They never considered a dead-bolt lock. But it’s getting better. Bad guys are still standing on the street, but they’re scared because now they see that they can be arrested.”