Trouble in Paradise : When It Comes to Crime, Ojai Falls Short of Its Idyllic Image

To many, the Ojai Valley conjures up images of aging hippies, pricey art galleries and cowboy ranchers all living in a harmonious Southland Shangri-La.

If there is talk of crime, it often dwells on the idiosyncratic nature of the place.

Yes, the 32 deputies working from a sheriff’s substation in downtown Ojai do respond to a fair share of “only in Ojai” calls: illegal tree pruning, bears lunching in avocado trees, skinny-dippers swimming in privately owned hot springs.

But the valley’s 30,000 residents are not immune to the violence that plagues dozens of other similarly sized communities in Southern California. Just this month, a 29-year-old Ojai man died from a gunshot wound police suspect he received after an argument near a horse ranch in Meiners Oaks.

“Except for the absence of gang violence, crime in Ojai is a lot like other places,” Sgt. Rod Thompson said. “People just don’t expect it to be.”

The valley has had five homicides in the past five years.

In addition to the Meiners Oaks shooting, valley residents were aghast to learn that a drugged-out and mentally ill mother starved her infant daughter to death last February in her trailer home. A year earlier, a sport fisherman and his dog were shotgunned by a man looking to steal their truck. In May 1993, a teenager stabbed another teenager to death with an ice pick outside a party. And a burglar was killed as he attempted to rob a New Year’s Day party in 1991.

And then there are the dumpings: bodies of people murdered elsewhere that are found every year or so along a remote stretch of California 33.

Another shocker was Ojai Valley’s summer of rape in 1994, when six elderly women were beaten and sexually assaulted.

Also, there are the drugs. The Ojai Valley is a popular place to cultivate marijuana, and in the past five years deputies have discovered two small methamphetamine labs.

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In addition, there are also the more prosaic traffic stops, burglaries and domestic disputes that take up a large chunk of the deputies’ time.

Still, the number of serious crimes in Ojai is fewer than in many neighboring communities.

Santa Paula, a community of roughly the same size, suffered nine homicides during the same period Ojai reported five. Santa Paula had 62 burglaries in 1993 while Ojai had 34, police records show.

And county narcotic enforcement officers say the valley’s drug problem is no different than almost anywhere else in the county.

“Methamphetamine is the predominant drug of choice in the Ojai Valley, and there’s some cocaine and heroin too,” said Lt. Craig Husband, head of the sheriff’s narcotic unit. “But that’s pretty much reflective of the county at large. The Ojai Valley is no different from any other jurisdiction we handle.”

The problem isn’t so much that there is crime in the Ojai Valley, deputies insist. The problem is Ojai’s stereotype as a quaint, sleepy community where nothing happens.

Because when it does, people are surprised.

“Sure, the Ojai is a kindler, gentler place in some ways,” Thompson said. “But people are people and we have the same mix as anywhere else.”

Said Deputy Anthony Biter: “We get everything up here. It’s a cross-section of society. We have yuppies, poor people, illegals, cranksters, bikers, everything.”

According to recent census figures, the number of people who earn less than $25,000 is almost equal to the number of people who earn more than $50,000. And while 22% of the valley’s population are college graduates, 19% didn’t finish high school.

“There is definitely poverty in Ojai and the crimes that often go with it,” Ojai City Manager Andy Belknap said.

Said Thompson: “People commit murder here for the same reasons as other places--marital disputes, business disputes, drug deals gone bad. It’s a crime of passion.”

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A night on patrol in the Ojai Valley is a lot like it is in dozens of other similarly populated areas in the Southland.

On a recent night, a team of about six deputies responded to reports of a domestic dispute, and skinny-dipping teenagers, then ate at Taco Bell and afterward calmed a pistol-toting 89-year-old woman who frequently reports imaginary intruders.

The only arrest was of a Malibu man suspected of driving under the influence of narcotics.

The man was pulled over because his tags had expired, but the deputies found the man’s pupils were dilated and his pulse remarkably fast. When they searched his car, they found six tabs of acid and a dozen syringes.

“We talk to people under the influence every day,” said Deputy James Fryhoff, putting away his department-issued pupil-o-meter. “It gives us lots of practice.”

The one discernible difference between the Ojai Valley and other parts of the county is its geographical isolation.

There are just three ways to get in and out by car. Actually two, if you don’t include the serpentine scenic route through Los Padres National Forest.

The valley is a hard place to leave--in more ways than one.

“If something major happens, we just close off the exits,” said Lt. Jim Barrett, who heads the sheriff’s Ojai substation. “It’s not real hard to establish a perimeter.”

Professional crooks tend to stay away.

“It’s like robbing a house on a dead-end street,” Thompson said. “Any burglar worth his salt won’t work it.”

Auto theft is particularly unpopular: Where are you going to drive it?

Amateurs unfamiliar with the area quickly learn their lesson.

Last month, three men from Ventura were caught breaking into a car in downtown Ojai. They fled on foot and ran right into the parking lot of the unassuming sheriff’s substation.

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Consequently, most of the valley’s crime is home-grown; people tend to rob and burglarize each other. Which leads to another problem for the criminally inclined.

Most people in the valley know each other.

“It’s pretty easy to learn all the crooks and players,” Sgt. Rick Barber said. “Deputies know family histories, who hangs out with who, what car someone drives, if they just moved to another address.”

When an Ojai resident robbed a local bank a few months ago, deputies were waiting for him when he got home.

It turns out that several customers and tellers recognized him, and even knew where he lived. Just five blocks away.