Sleuth Takes a Byte Out of Crime : Volunteers: Max Kerstein is honored by LAPD for computer work in tracking down criminals and helping people falsely accused.

In these times of seemingly overwhelming lawlessness and violence, it often appears there is little one person can do to make a difference.

And then there is Max Kerstein.

For the past 13 years, the 68-year-old West Los Angeles resident has volunteered about 20 hours a week of his time as a computer specialist for the Los Angeles Police Department. All told, he says, he’s put in thousands of hours, mostly at night and on weekends.

Kerstein’s mission: to track criminals and their outstanding arrest warrants by computer, and sort through their aliases to find their true identity and criminal background.

Kerstein’s computer gumshoe work has helped keep dangerous criminals in jail when they were about to be bailed out under assumed names, and has allowed some who were falsely imprisoned to be set free, according to police.

Armed with Kerstein’s detailed computer profiles of suspects, police also have been able to speed up processing of cases and spend more time patrolling the streets and stopping crime.

And Kerstein’s computer work has paid off in another way--it has yielded more than $6.4 million in outstanding warrant dollars, by determining that suspects in police custody were wanted for other crimes or parole violations, authorities say.

“I’ve gotten pretty good at it,” Kerstein says.

Authorities couldn’t agree more. This week, Kerstein was one of eight Los Angeles recipients to be honored by City Atty. James Hahn for “furthering the cause of law enforcement, a fair and equitable criminal justice system, volunteerism and community service” as part of the third annual Community Service Awards.

Kerstein was nominated by the captains of the LAPD’s Wilshire and Pacific divisions, where he does much of his computer work. He also works out of the West Los Angeles, Rampart and Van Nuys divisions, and downtown at LAPD’s Parker Center headquarters.

“Max is certainly deserving of all the recognition and praise we can give him,” said Capt. John Wilbanks of LAPD’s Pacific Division. “He’s one of those assets that we don’t have enough of in the department.”

When he started volunteering, Kerstein knew nothing about computers or police work. The Brooklyn native moved to Los Angeles with his wife and three children in 1957 to find special education for his daughter, who is deaf. He started publishing a special interest business newsletter, and still spends about 70 hours a week putting it out.

But he also toils away at night and on weekends at police stations, and has gotten so adept at using police computers and databases that he has taught sworn officers how to use them. He has completed a 12-week fingerprint training course too, to better identify suspects who may be using aliases.

In one of his recent performance evaluations, LAPD officials described Kerstein as perhaps “the best known reserve officer in the city,” and said, “There is nothing Max can’t do with the department computer.”

According to police records, Kerstein since 1982 has discovered that 527 people in LAPD custody had outstanding fugitive warrants that police had either failed to notice through “lack of diligence” or because records were not available.

“In all probability, some very dangerous criminals could have been released onto the streets without his assistance,” said Capt. Julius I. Davis, commanding officer of LAPD’s Wilshire Division. “I perceive him as being invaluable and very special. We need his help.”

For Kerstein, such recognition is icing on the cake. But it isn’t the reason he spends so much time as a volunteer.

Kerstein says he is driven in part by a desire to avenge the death of his former secretary, Neona Ward, who at 60 was murdered during a purse-snatching 15 years ago, after she moved to Beverly Hills to escape violence in Los Angeles. Around the same time, Kerstein’s own home was burgled, and several television sets were stolen.

“I was so incensed by both of these incidents that I said if I ever get a chance to help in the area of law enforcement, I would do so,” he said.

Soon after, Kerstein responded to a call for volunteers, and spent a few boring weeks “shuffling papers” at LAPD headquarters downtown. Because he could type, Kerstein started working with police computers, and soon transferred to LAPD’s Records and Identification Unit.

Eight years ago, Kerstein was invited to go to the Westside to do criminal background checks, and in 1985, he was promoted to the position of volunteer specialist reserve officer.

In 1988, he was named reserve officer of the year at Pacific Division, and named reserve officer of the year at Wilshire Division in 1989.

Through the years, as his skills with the computer and the various databases grew, Kerstein began netting some serious criminals who could have otherwise slipped through the cracks in the police identification system, he says.

One case he remembers fondly is that of a man arrested for trying to smuggle a gun onto a plane in a picture frame. The suspect was brought into custody and authorities found no trace of any other problem with the law or outstanding warrants. But Kerstein persevered, and found in FBI records that the man was using a slightly altered name and date of birth, and that he had been wanted by federal agents for eight years for contraband smuggling in Texas.

When confronted, the suspect admitted he was on the lam, and his bail was set at $1 million. “He would never have been found had I not checked,” Kerstein says.

Such cases are commonplace in LAPD’s law enforcement system, and underscore how desperately the LAPD needs volunteers to track criminals, Kerstein says.

“It’s just awesome when you realize how many major criminals are slipping through the cracks of the system because of the overwhelming burden of activity and lack of expertise of the people checking these things,” he says.

On the brighter side, Kerstein helped free one woman who had languished in jail for two days because of crimes she hadn’t committed. The woman had a rap sheet 34 pages long, mostly for prostitution. But Kerstein found the woman’s fingerprints didn’t match those of the person who had committed the previous crimes. The woman’s cousin had been using her identity and committing the crimes, so she was let go, he says.

Kerstein says he plans to continue his volunteer work and has no plans to slow down. His three children are grown, and he lives with his wife, Millie, a retired Bank of America employee.

“I’m 68 years young. I like to help people,” Kerstein says with a chuckle. “I’ve often said that if I keep doing what I’m doing, I’ll be the most popular guy in the poorhouse. But I’m doing something that I feel offers something to the community. It gives me a sense of personal satisfaction.”