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Officers Are Sad--and Angry

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TIMES STAFF WRITER

The moment the big news hit, Los Angeles Police Detective Charles Press was there to see it. His coffee cup in hand, Press looked on in silent disbelief Thursday as Police Chief Daryl F. Gates--his chief--emerged from a closed-door meeting to announce before the hot white lights of the television cameras that he had been placed on leave for 60 days.

“It’s the greatest injustice I have ever heard about in my 26 years as a law enforcement officer,” a disgusted Press proclaimed as the media peppered the chief with questions. “The mayor is practicing political prostitution. . . . It’s a joke. Mayor Bradley ought to resign.”

Throughout the LAPD--in the corridors and elevators at Parker Center headquarters, in substations from the West Valley to the Harbor to South-Central Los Angeles--the reaction was much the same. For many, there were no words harsh enough to express the outrage and sadness, the dismay and betrayal they felt as they learned that their leader had been temporarily pushed out of office.

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“Moscow-L.A.,” one officer muttered bitterly as he watched a live television broadcast of the Police Commission announcing its action. “That’s where I live. I don’t live in America.”

“I’m not in a very good mood,” said another. “I don’t think you’d like what I have to say.”

“I feel shaken by it,” said a third. “I’m at a loss for words.”

Meanwhile, the president of the Los Angeles Police Protective League, the union that represents police officers, called a press conference to denounce the commission action as a “political mess.”

Lt. George Aliano said that if the City Council does not overturn the Police Commission’s decision, he will call meetings of the union’s 8,100 members to discuss the possibility of taking a job action, perhaps a work slowdown, or a speedup in which officers would hand out tickets for minor infractions they would normally overlook.

Aliano said the union usually shies away from those forms of protest, believing them to be unprofessional. But this time, he said, “No one’s getting the message how upset we are.”

At the Civic Center, such an action--albeit unofficial--appeared to already be under way. At least one pair of patrolmen were unusually active Thursday afternoon, handing out jaywalking citations and ticketing press vehicles parked on the sidewalk of City Hall, where radio and television trucks normally park with impunity.

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There is a certain code of stoicism among the city’s men and women in blue, and this was evident Thursday. There were no tears; angry outbursts were rare. There was only stone-faced silence and measured words from a rank-and-file that has demonstrated intense loyalty to Gates since the March 3 police beating of motorist Rodney G. King.

Some officers began wearing black strips of tape over their badges in a show of “mourning” for the chief--the traditional sign that an officer has died in the line of duty.

Others, speaking in jargon of the criminal justice system, complained that Gates had not been given “due process,” that his “rights were violated,” that he deserved a “fair and impartial hearing.”

“It was almost a public execution,” said Capt. Francisco Pegueros, who commands the LAPD jail, “without the defendant being given the opportunity to state his case.”

As glum officers tried to go about their jobs in Parker Center, the word of Gates’ departure filtered out quickly to the LAPD’s outlying substations--on radio, on television, by telephone or word of mouth. There was no official announcement from the department, no memorandum or radio broadcast. No matter; as one officer said, news travels fast through the LAPD’s tight-knit ranks.

In South-Central Los Angeles, Lt. Michael Moulin heard from one of his supervisors, who was on hand at Parker Center for the Police Commission’s announcement. In Reseda, Officer Russell Long found out when civilians called in to express their support for the chief. In San Pedro, Lt. Betty Kelepecz caught the tail end of a live television report.

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“Oh, no,” she said to herself. “This is a bad time to take our chief away.”

With the department still in turmoil over the King beating, many of Kelepecz’s colleagues shared her views. They worried that Gates’ departure will only further demoralize the LAPD at a time when its public image has been severely damaged.

The officers’ ire, for the most part, was directed at Mayor Tom Bradley, who three days ago called upon Gates to resign and who appoints the Police Commission that suspended the chief. Some said the LAPD, which has prided itself on being free of corruption and political influence, is now in danger of losing that independence.

“Our politicians are using our chief of police as a political pawn,” declared Lt. Moulin, who works in the 77th Street Division. “That’s what the mayor has wanted all along. He has wanted absolute control over the Police Department so he can manipulate us and the chief like little pawns, like they do in other cities around the country.”

Said Detective Roger Gripe, who works at Parker Center: “When they do this to the chief of police, they did it to me as well as all of the rest of the officers. I kind of feel betrayed by the city, the politicians, the City Council and especially the mayor.”

Several spoke of the LAPD as a family, with Gates as the father figure. But their words were not necessary; signs of support were everywhere. Their patrol cars sported bumper stickers that proclaimed: “We support Chief Gates.” In Parker Center, nearly every office was adorned with photocopied drawings of an LAPD badge that read: “Chief Gates Please Stay.”

On the eighth floor, Sgt. Ronald Sullivan, a 24-year LAPD veteran, talked of the chief over a ham-and-salami sandwich. “I think he’s a good man,” said Sullivan, who supervises the department’s recruitment efforts. “He’s been an outstanding chief. In my time, he has guided the department with deep devotion to duty.”

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Behind Sullivan hung a huge recruitment poster. It featured a smiling Gates, dressed in uniform--a photograph taken in happier times. “Stand and deliver,” the poster beckoned. “Come join our family.”

Times staff writers Fred Muir and Paul Lieberman contributed to this article.

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