Long Downward Spiral Led to Officer Shooting

First, James Parker hid the car keys so his son wouldn’t drink and drive. Then, he hid the guns so the troubled young man with the insatiable hunger for cocaine wouldn’t shoot himself or anyone else.

When the violence escalated and he could control him no longer, Parker came to court in late 1994 and told a judge that he wanted what was best for his son--even if that meant a long state prison term.

“Terry needs serious help,” his father told authorities, according to court records. Even the son acknowledged that “drugs have fried my brains.”

And so, Terry James Parker was sentenced to prison on Oct. 17, 1994--one year after he was arrested for cocaine possession and driving with a blood-alcohol level more than twice the legal limit, six months after he was shot by police while leading them on a high-speed chase, and three months after he brandished a gun at his father, dialed 911 and fired shots inside his home during a standoff with police.

In retrospect, Terry Parker’s state prison sentence--44 months, of which he served 20--barely interrupted the 25-year-old’s downward spiral. In the end, it seemed, only a bullet could stop Parker’s hellbent mission of self-destruction.

Parker’s is the story of a man whose problems were staggering, and yet so commonplace that he barely made an impression during his repeated contacts with the courts in Los Angeles. Interviews last week with prosecutors, defense attorneys, police, prison officials and mental health experts revealed that all the cogs of the criminal justice system worked as as they were supposed to in the Parker case.

Still, early Wednesday, Parker used a gun his father had wrapped in a rag and hidden in the console of his black Chevrolet Mirage pickup truck to shoot California Highway Patrol Officer Rafael “Ralph” Casillas, who was trying to stop him for speeding on the San Diego Freeway.

Later, pursued by police, Parker placed the gun into his mouth and pulled the trigger, an autopsy revealed. Seconds afterward came a hail of police bullets.

It was an eerie replay of the two 1994 events that had sent Parker to prison. As with all his crimes, drugs and alcohol had very likely played a central role.

A ninth-grade dropout and occasional bricklayer, Terry Parker for years trolled the San Fernando Valley’s most notorious drug corners, feeding an $80-a-day rock cocaine habit.

*

It was on one of those corners that police spotted him on April 19, 1994, and gave chase. As in Wednesday’s incident, he led police toward his home. During the chase, police shot him in the chest and thigh.

Three months later, still carrying two police bullets in his body, Parker had brandished a gun at his father, fired shots into a table, and dialed 911. When police arrived, he tried to coax them to kill him, according to court records. Later, he said he had wanted to kill himself but couldn’t. According to a probation report, he said he had hoped police would “finish the job” they started in April.

Nearly everyone involved in the 1994 cases recognized Parker was in deep trouble mentally.

“You look back, and you think, ‘Oh my God, if I’d only known,’ ” said lawyer Wayne Little, the former prosecutor who handled the plea bargain that sent Parker to prison.

There were problems with the case, Little said. Because some of the officers had violated their own procedures, a later review concluded, Little did not believe he could prove the most serious crime--that Parker had attempted to run down an officer with his truck.

Still, Parker received nearly the maximum sentence on the remaining charges--his first felony convictions.

“This guy had some real serious problems,” Little said. “Unfortunately, the system has become more of a caretaker. If this guy didn’t get some treatment or help, this is the kind of stuff that happens. Unfortunately, our system isn’t designed to get people off drugs and alcohol. It’s designed to get them off the streets.”

Kaushal Sharma, a professor of psychiatry at USC, agreed. “The legal system is not designed for rehabilitation,” Sharma said.

“Philosophically, one could say that’s not the way it should be, but that’s the way it is,” Sharma added. “It is difficult for most judges to follow through with treatment, unless they make it a condition of probation.” The sentencing judge, Charles Peven, did recommend Parker receive psychiatric treatment and drug and alcohol counseling while in prison, 1994 court records show. But while the prosecutor, defense attorney, probation officer and judge all agreed that treatment was called for, there was little they could do.

“Really, once we say the magic words they are going to state prison, the Department of Corrections decides where to put them and what to do with them,” Peven said. “They are no longer in our charge.”

The only way a judge can ensure that a defendant receives psychiatric help or enrolls in a substance abuse treatment program is to place him on probation. Since Parker’s escalating criminal actions placed others in the community in danger, probation was not a viable option, all involved in the case agreed.

Corrections officials said while Parker was incarcerated in Solano, he met with a psychiatrist just once. He didn’t attend a single Alcoholics Anonymous or Narcotics Anonymous meeting.

But there is little anyone can do, they said, to help somebody such as Parker if that person doesn’t want to help himself.

According to court records and interviews with his father and others, Terry Parker began abusing alcohol when he was 8 years old. He was using rock cocaine by age 13. His juvenile record shows he was placed on probation for offenses that included bringing marijuana and drug paraphernalia onto school grounds, unauthorized use of a vehicle and reckless driving.

He was convicted three times between 1989 and 1993 for driving under the influence of alcohol, and when he was unable to comply even with the relatively simple terms of his probation, he returned to County Jail for stints up to 90 days.

He failed to show up for court-ordered AA meetings. He dropped out of a drug-diversion program after he was arrested again for drunk driving. And, he rarely appeared in court when he was required to show.

“The system didn’t fail him. He failed to take advantage of the system,” said Stephen L. Cooley, head deputy of the district attorney’s San Fernando branch, where all Parker’s crimes and misdemeanors were handled.

“He fell off diversion. He violated his misdemeanor DUI probations. He just didn’t follow through,” Cooley added. “He failed, and now he’s dead, and a good police officer almost died.”

Parker’s inability to follow the terms of his probation and his escalating violence were predictable given his underlying mental illness, said William D. Vicary, a forensic psychiatrist who examined Parker in 1994 for his defense attorneys.

The drug and alcohol abuse very likely were Parker’s attempts at “self-medication” for his bipolar disorder, Vicary said. Bipolar disorder, once commonly known as manic depression, is characterized by unpredictable mood swings, as well as suicidal or dangerous behavior during the acutely manic phases. It is treatable with drugs.

Vicary’s psychiatric evaluation remains confidential since it was never used in court. The public defender’s office, as well as Parker’s father, have declined to release it.

But Vicary agreed Friday to discuss the Parker case in general terms.

Following the armed standoff with police in July 1994--a standoff that was, in fact, a botched suicide attempt--Parker behaved erratically and claimed to hear voices while in jail, according to court records. Twice in the weeks following his arrest, a Municipal Court judge ordered that he be examined by a psychiatrist.

“I believe that was probably the first time he was diagnosed and treated,” Vicary said. “It was kind of an important event.”

While in custody, Parker seemed to stabilize with daily doses of lithium and another anti-psychotic medication to ease his paranoia.

Parker was examined by a psychiatrist 10 days after he entered Solano state prison on Nov. 18, 1994. He was given two psychotropic drugs--an anti-depressant and a mood stabilizer, corrections department officials said.

He remained on the drugs throughout his 20-month prison term, the officials said. But he received no other psychiatric counseling during the term, they said, adding that such a decision is left to the psychiatrist and is made on a case-by-case basis.

At Solano, psychiatrists offer numerous services--on an emergency basis as well as weekly or daily counseling sessions.

“He met the criteria for the drugs,” said Van Bell, regional administrator for the state Department of Corrections. “He was seen by a psychiatrist, and with the drugs, he was determined to be OK.”

Corrections officials said the department usually refers parolees to a psychiatrist at a state-run clinic once they are released. But the Parkers wanted to move to Arizona.

“If we would have determined that Arizona [corrections department] was going to take some time . . . we would have said we need to evaluate his continuing [psychiatric] needs,” Bell said.

Parker apparently stopped taking his medication the day he was released from state prison. He received no follow-up psychiatric care.

“If you have a problem,” said Sharma, the USC professor, “the day you get out you’re going to get high, you’re going to party.”

Sure enough, James Parker said, his son began drinking again, “and kind of went crazy.”

Terry Parker told his father he believed authorities were conspiring against him to prevent the move to Arizona.

“He’d say, ‘Dad, they’re not going to let me leave here.’ ” James Parker said. “I told him it wasn’t a conspiracy, it was just bureaucrats.”

Also James Parker said he had forgotten the gun was in the truck, where his son found it with tragic consequences.

“I carry it because I go between here and Arizona and carry it for protection. I had hidden it in the truck, and I forgot,” James Parker said.

Vicary said under the best circumstances, Parker would have been referred to a halfway house and stabilized. But that occurs only rarely, he said.

“When he got out, there wasn’t anything nearly like that done for him,” Vicary said.

“He relapsed. He began to have symptoms again,” Vicary said. “He began to self-medicate and--whammo!--it only took 28 days. There was a missed opportunity when he was released from prison.”

Nonetheless, Vicary said, “His prognosis may have been very poor no matter what anybody did. They go over the edge, and it’s like they’re on a mission.”

Times staff writer Timothy Williams and correspondent Darrell Satzman contributed to this story.