The Friends of Eddie Ortiz

There’s nothing like a true friend, a bud, a pal. He’ll stand by you against an army of enemies, fight sharks to save you and battle public opinion to restore your reputation.

A friend is a man or a woman who won’t let anything get in the way of their belief in you. Forget the crowd that screams for your head. Ignore the verdict of a jury.

A friend knows beyond doubt that you’re innocent, that your heart is pure, that your intentions are noble.

And so I revisit the case of Sgt. Edward Ortiz.

He’s one of three LAPD officers convicted two weeks ago of corruption in the Rampart scandal. I wrote about him and the others, quoting a post-verdict comment from a trial participant that the convictions would adversely affect a cop’s ability to do his job.

I said hogwash.

I said there was nothing in the police manual that allowed a cop to violate the law in order to uphold the law. I said there was no reason for the men and women in blue not to do the work they hired on to do, regardless of what happened to those convicted in the Rampart case.

Then I heard from the friends of Edward Ortiz.

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They called him Eddie.

At first, they challenged my “insinuation” that cops weren’t doing their job. Then they shifted to a defense of their Eddie. The focus was narrow. The other two, Brian Liddy and Michael Buchanan, might have deserved the verdict, they said, but not him. Not Eddie.

“Eddie would take a bullet for his partners and even for you,” wrote one supporter.

“Eddie is the victim of a witch hunt,” wrote another.

“We pray for Eddie every day,” said a third. “He deserves a second chance to prove himself. He’s risked his life one too many times not to have it.”

These were three in a bucket of e-mails that swore by Ortiz’s devotion to duty, his honesty and his commitment to the public weal. They condemned disgraced ex-cop Rafael Perez, who, facing a long sentence for stealing evidence cocaine, saved himself by blowing the whistle on others in the Rampart Division.

The friends of Eddie Ortiz who have e-mailed me since the column appeared expressed a passionate belief in Ortiz that one rarely hears on behalf of a convicted felon. They blamed, not him, but Perez, the jury, the prosecution and even his lawyer.

And then I heard from an e-mailer who says he is the Eddie they defended.

In a note that begins, “I, Sergeant Edward Ortiz . . .” and continues as an indictment of both me and the system, he charges that his conviction “was not based on any evidence, but rather on hatred for police officers.”

He adds: “My officers . . . and myself gave our hearts and soul to you and the citizens of Los Angeles so that you could comfortably sleep at night in the safety of your own homes.”

And again: “You have innocent cops that are facing possible prison sentences for doing their jobs, professionally, with dedication and loyalty to the good citizens of Los Angeles.”

He goes on to lambaste me because “You came to judgment without hearing the full evidence” and “You never had to face danger in your life” and “You wear a suit to work; my officers put on bulletproof vests,” and ad infinitum.

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It’s good to have friends, and it’s almost equally comforting to have enemies. Enemies, real or imagined, provide targets for invective. It makes a guy feel better when he’s got someone to blame and curse and defile.

But I’m not Eddie’s enemy.

I said he was convicted and he was. He’ll stay guilty unless declared innocent in subsequent legal action. He’ll appeal and so will the others. The Rampart case will go on longer than the presidential election.

I don’t know whether, verdicts aside, Eddie Ortiz is truly guilty. Juries make mistakes. Lawyers fail to convince. But the guilty can also bamboozle those closest to them into believing them innocent when they’re not.

What impressed me about Ortiz were those who rushed to his defense. I didn’t save all of the e-mails, but I remember one woman saying she cried for Eddie because Eddie had once cried for her. I don’t know if she meant it figuratively or literally, but she was obviously passionate in support of him.

I can’t read anyone’s heart. There is no foolproof way of determining guilt or innocence. We are left with a system that occasionally breaks down, but it’s all we have. Ortiz will wind his way through it. What he’ll find at the other end is anyone’s guess.

But this I do know. You’ve got friends, Eddie. And that’s got to count for something.

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Al Martinez’s column appears Sundays and Wednesdays. He can be reached online at al.martinez@latimes.com.