Decorated Officer on Trial for Shooting

Even the prosecutor says Christopher Chaney was an unlikely candidate for the ignominious distinction that has befallen him.

For five years, the lean, quiet-spoken Chaney, son of a sergeant-major in the Army, cousin to a slain civil rights worker in Mississippi, was the kind of police officer that the San Diego Police Department says it wants.

But now the 34-year-old Chaney sits stoically at the defendant’s table in Department 6 of the San Diego Superior Court: the only officer in the 107-year history of the San Diego Police Department to face criminal charges because of an on-duty shooting.

In a department that prides itself on practicing community-oriented policing and training officers to use force only as a last resort, Chaney had won a string of commendations: for safely disarming a would-be suicide, for working with children from broken homes, for working 27 hours straight to bring emergency supplies to homeowners stranded by torrential rains, for breaking up a stolen car ring involving Mexican organized crime.

There is not a single citizen’s complaint in his personnel file. His job evaluation last year was a rave.

In one case, the mother of one of two young boys strangled to death in 1993--a crime so ghastly it brought condolences from President Clinton--credits Chaney with helping her cope with the tragedy by aggressively tracking clues, by offering friendship and by taking her to church with him and his wife.

“Without Chris and Sgt. [Bill] Holmes, I don’t think I would have survived,” said Maria Keever. “Anyone who knows Officer Chaney knows he is a good man. I know there are bad police officers, but he is not one of them.”

In more jaded big cities, where the specter of police officers on trial is not unprecedented, the case against Chaney might go unnoticed. In San Diego, it has been the stuff of headlines and TV news film-at-11 promos.

Chaney is accused of felony assault with a deadly weapon in the shooting of a fleeing suspect after a high-speed chase that began when the driver of a battered 1974 Camaro made an illegal U-turn on a freeway and refused to pull over. The driver, who authorities say was drunk and lacked a driver’s license, was hit in the arm but survived.

In announcing the charges against Chaney, the police chief solemnly told reporters that the department would not flinch from investigating one of its own. “Our integrity and our reputation is more important than any individual in the Police Department, including myself,” said Chief Jerry Sanders.

Chaney’s lawyers have suggested that the Police Department’s zeal led to a rush to judgment based on a flawed premise about the evidence left behind when Chaney’s police car and the Camaro collided on a residential street.

Chaney insists that he fired his gun because one of three men in the Camaro jumped out the driver’s door and charged directly at him while the other two ran out the passenger’s door. Chaney says he fired at the last possible second, just as the man darted left between the two cars and joined his two friends scrambling up a hill.

Police investigators, concluding that the driver’s door of the Camaro could not be opened, found Chaney’s version of events not credible and instead believed the version of the car’s three occupants, two of whom are felons. The three swear that they fled out the passenger’s side and began running when Chaney shot at their backs.

Chaney’s lead defense attorney, William Braniff, a former U.S. attorney in San Diego, has presented evidence in court that the driver’s door, while broken, could still be opened. And a police officer who arrived shortly after the shooting testified last week that he found the driver’s door open but that investigators had never asked him about it.

The trial has left a residue of bitterness among some San Diego police officers who believe that Chaney should never have been charged, particularly when the key witness against him is a convicted felon and drug user with mental problems.

Part of the bitterness arises from the fact that Chaney, who is not a member of the Police Officers Assn., did not have the protection afforded to association members when he was questioned by investigators.

Under the association’s contract with the city, an association representative must be present whenever an officer is questioned about a shooting or asked to participate in a “walk-through.” As a nonmember, Chaney was on his own.

“Chris was an easy target,” said Officer Natalie Snook, one of several officers who came to court last week to show support for Chaney.

“He’s the San Diego Police Department’s ideal officer,” said Officer Lorie Glick. “He’s not a man to make rash decisions to hurt people. He’s not one of those cops who needs to put on a macho front.”

Deputy Dist. Atty. William Collins told jurors that Chaney was “an exemplary police officer” and that the three men in the Camaro tooling down California 905 the night of Oct. 8 “were not the boys next door.”

“But these things are not what you are here to evaluate,” Collins said. “What you are here to evaluate is what happened in one second later that evening.”

Along with the problem of the busted door, Collins said investigators did not believe Chaney’s version because the two cars were grille-to-bumper and there was no space for anyone to run between them. Also, a trail of blood indicated that the Camaro’s driver, Antonio Bogarin, 23, was 30 feet away from the two cars when he was struck in the back of his arm by Chaney’s bullet.

If Bogarin had been charging at Chaney, the blood would have been much closer, investigators determined. When he was interrogated, Chaney said he had assumed that he had shot at the Camaro’s driver because the man had come out the driver’s door. He seemed confused when told that the driver was 30 feet away when struck.

By reconstructing the scene, Chaney’s lawyers have deduced that the man he shot at was not Bogarin but Frank Palisi, 24, who was in the back seat during the chase and--the attorneys say--came charging out the driver’s door when the Camaro crashed against a pole. Braniff asserts that Chaney missed Palisi and inadvertently struck Bogarin, who had fled out the passenger’s door.

After firing the shot, Chaney said, his car lurched forward and banged into the back of the Camaro. Chaney, 5 feet 7, 150 pounds, said he fired because the Camaro had twice rammed his car in an effort to escape and he feared for his life when one of its occupants ran at him.

Palisi, 6 feet 3, 270 pounds, has since been sent back to prison on a parole violation for theft. Collins told jurors that in exchange for his testimony against Chaney, prosecutors have promised Palisi that they will speak favorably about him when he is next eligible for parole.

Braniff won the right to tell jurors that a month before the incident with Chaney, Palisi had brandished a loaded rifle on a street in Chula Vista and had to be tackled by police when he refused to drop the weapon. A police report says Palisi told officers he had wanted them to shoot him because he lacked the courage to commit suicide.

In a major victory for the defense, police ballistics expert Gene Wolberg, called by the prosecution, conceded to Braniff that--assuming the driver’s door opened and there was space between the cars--Chaney’s version of events is not inconsistent with the location of the shell casing, the blood trail and the spot where the bullet lodged after passing through Bogarin’s arm.

As the trial continues this week, it is unclear whether Chaney will testify. But defense attorneys have listed several character witnesses, including crime victims, police officers and officials of the Mormon church, of which he is a member.

Chaney, whose cousin James was killed in 1964 along with two other civil rights workers in Mississippi, has been on administrative duty since being charged. When fellow officers rallied to his side at Christmas, he sent them a note telling them not to be angry and that he still believes San Diego has the best police department in the country.

“Never once since this has been going on have I heard him criticize or bad-mouth the department,” Officer Snook said.

If Chaney is cleared by the jury and returns to duty, he will find something waiting for him: a commanding officer’s commendation for good work on a project to reduce vehicle burglaries.