Riverside Kennel Is Focus of Controversy Over Police Dog Bites

Half his nose was gone. A deep gash stretched from his lower lip to his ear. A piece of skin flapped on his cheek.

The image was photographed in a hospital more than seven years ago. The picture turned Charles Dennis into a poster boy of sorts for those around the country who oppose the use of police dogs to subdue suspects.

Early on June 10, 1990, Dennis stole a carton of tennis shoes from a pickup truck in Fullerton, hopped into a car and led police on a chase into an East Los Angeles neighborhood. He ditched the car and hid in a backyard, beneath a discarded Venetian blind.

That’s where Loebas found him. Authorities claim that Dennis pushed the Los Angeles County Sheriff’s Department dog away, prompting Loebas to bite in self-defense. But Dennis’ attorney, Timothy J. Midgley, claims that a handler repeatedly instructed Loebas to bite Dennis’ face.

During four operations, doctors pieced Dennis back together. He is now serving time at the California Institution for Men in Chino for an unrelated crime.

Police dog critics claim that Dennis’ case is one example of widespread police dog misuse. Proponents maintain that the dog and its handler were doing exactly what they were trained to do with a violent suspect.

Opponents complain that handlers are taught to unleash their dogs to needlessly bite suspects. The police community staunchly defends the canine units, saying that they apply reasonable, less than lethal, force against sometimes combative suspects.

Cops have the law on their side. The U.S. 9th Circuit Court of Appeals ruled in October that the use of police dogs cannot be considered a method of deadly force.

“Everyone has these visions of guard dogs with teeth,” said Deputy Keyon Evers, a six-year veteran of the sheriff’s canine unit. “That’s not what they are. They see things on TV and in the newspaper. And people only know what they see and read.”

Loebas was trained by David Reaver, a police canine unit pioneer in the West. His kennel, Adlerhorst, is German for “Eagle’s Nest”--the name of Adolf Hitler’s retreat in the Bavarian Alps during World War II.

Reaver has denied allegations of racism and offered several explanations for his kennel’s name, both in and out of court. He said that he did not know that the word was affiliated with Hitler’s retreat and that Adlerhorst is a common German word.

Five years ago, Dennis, who is black, sued Los Angeles County, the Sheriff’s Department and the city of La Palma for more than $5 million, alleging excessive force, racial discrimination and other civil rights violations.

A Los Angeles Superior Court jury cleared the defendants of liability, saying that Dennis was warned several times about the presence of a dog.

“That was their best case and they lost it,” said Los Angeles attorney Eugene Ramirez, who represents 20 police departments in police dog and SWAT team liability cases. “Once you put aside the goriness of the picture and look at the facts objectively, they realized this guy was a threat.”

Throughout the trial, deputies claimed that they only followed guidelines learned during training at Adlerhorst. Reaver insists that he has nothing to hide and welcomes critics to observe what goes on at his kennel.

“It’s really cut and dry. There are no big secrets here,” he said. “We don’t base any amount of success on how many people get bitten. On the contrary, I like it when people don’t get hurt. But the dogs do their job.”

Reaver’s 5 1/2-acre Riverside kennel is set in dusty hills and craggy brush about 60 miles east of Los Angeles. Rusty, stripped-down cars, concrete tunnels and brick walls are scattered around to simulate urban settings.

Burlap pants, padded suits and football helmets are hung on racks inside a trailer. Handlers don the equipment to protect themselves from dog bites during training.

More than 100 law enforcement agencies have purchased dogs from Adlerhorst. The price tag--between $3,000 and $5,000--includes a five-week training program for beginners. Between 75 and 100 dogs--mostly Belgian Malinois and German shepherds--graduate from the kennel annually, Reaver said.

Regular customers include sheriff’s departments in Los Angeles and Orange counties.

Some smaller agencies that buy their dogs from Adlerhorst send the animals and their handlers back to the kennel every month for refresher courses. The compound’s parking lot is usually full of police cars from across the country.

Because his dogs are so widely used, Reaver should be responsible for the actions of the animals, said attorney Donald W. Cook, a longtime outspoken critic of what he considers police dog misuse.

“What municipalities have done is . . . they’ve essentially delegated to Reaver the job of instructing and training the officers on when the dogs should bite,” Cook said.

Under this rationale, Reaver was named as a defendant in a lawsuit brought by Joe Cordero, a Cook client who got a $150,000 settlement from the Montebello Police Department in July. Reaver, however, was absolved of liability.

On May 5, 1991, Cordero was bitten by Axel, an Adlerhorst-trained Montebello police dog. Cordero said he still does not remember many details of that evening because he was so “stoned drunk” after celebrating Cinco de Mayo.

Officers claimed that Cordero would not stop chasing a man despite repeated commands to stop. “I saw their mouths moving, but I couldn’t hear anything, probably because I was too damn drunk,” Cordero said.

Cordero was bitten in the thigh and spent two weeks in a hospital. He was initially cited for assault and battery on a police officer but the charges were dropped.

Cordero sued for damages in 1992. During testimony, Axel’s handler testified he was taught at Adlerhorst that using a dog was less severe than a baton, so a dog should be used before a baton.

“Dog bites psychologically look more serious than they really are,” Reaver said. “Whereas, if you take a PR-24 [police] baton and hit somebody in the ribs and they crack a rib, if you showed that picture to a jury they don’t feel pain when they see that picture. In fact, it’s more debilitating in the long term.”

Cook claims that’s a twisted philosophy, but explains why there are so many excessive police dog bites.

“Cops aren’t stupid,” he said. “They realize, ‘Hey, I couldn’t go up to this guy and use a knife and cut him up. But if I let a dog do it . . . it’s less force than a baton. That’s how I was trained.’

“It’s perfect for an officer who wants to brutalize someone or just get in a few bites through dog attacks--by doing something an officer would never do using his own hands.”

Reaver labels that argument stupid. “Why would somebody risk their career, their freedom, just to get an extra bite? It just doesn’t make sense, and it doesn’t make sense to a jury either.”