Her Good Detective Work Would Make Sherlock Holmes Proud

It doesn’t make up for all the dead-ends, faulty hunches and worn-out shoe leather that go with being a detective, but Susan Hanna scored one for the good guys this week.

The Brea police detective’s crafty work led to a man pleading guilty Monday to two rape charges. Considering the rapist may not have gone into criminal retirement voluntarily, Hanna’s contribution to society is as good as it gets.

And what a gambit.

Thinking she had her man but not having the evidence, she cajoled him last year into lunch at Taco Bell. Once there, he swigged a soft drink through a straw, which Hanna managed to smuggle to another detective after going to the counter to get the suspect a refill. The suspect’s saliva, left on the straw, was tested for DNA and eventually linked him to the rapes.

As Maxwell Smart might say, “Aha! The old switch-the-soda-straw-to-get-the-DNA trick.”

Well, whatever it takes.

Hanna was reportedly on vacation and not available Tuesday to discuss her success, but an Orange County Sheriff’s Department detective figures he knows how she feels. He knows what it’s like to work a case until your brain is tired, and yet you still can’t crack it.

“Obviously, it’s a good feeling,” says Det. Ken Hoffman of Hanna’s success. “It’s a feeling that all that tedious work paid off . . . that . . . being a tenacious person and Type A personality finally paid off.”

He chuckles, saying that it’s not required that a detective be a Type A personality--only that it helps to be dedicated and driven.

That’s because success may come sporadically. And it may come slowly. Every hour of crime-solving on TV cop shows probably translates to months in real life, Hoffman says.

“Every case has the potential of being solved, if everything falls into place,” Hoffman, 39, says, “but there are some where the witnesses or victims become reluctant or the evidence just isn’t there.”

That’s especially true in investigating sex-crime cases, which are Hoffman’s specialty. He worked a case a few years ago that resulted in the conviction of a man for drugging women he met through personal ads.

That case, Hoffman says, hinged on showing that the man had access to such drugs. Hoffman researched the suspect’s background and learned that as a Navy veteran with reported aches and pains, he had contact with a Veteran’s Administration hospital.

Detectives found more than 4,650 doses of the “date-rape” drug at the man’s house, in addition to names and phone numbers of more than 100 women. Hoffman phoned the names on the list and built a winning case.

Other local detectives have had a good run lately too. Sheriff’s investigators finally tracked down a murder suspect they’d been trying to find for four years. They kept the case alive even after reports that the man had committed suicide by jumping off the Golden Gate Bridge and later changed his appearance and identity.

This will make cops shudder, but journalists like to play detective too. We understand the tedium of investigation as well as the thrill of the hunt.

Some detectives love poring through the evidence to find the missing link. For Hoffman, the favorite part of the job is interrogating the suspect.

“It’s a challenge getting them talking about a secret part of their life,” he says. “They know what they’ve done is wrong and for them to sit down and tell you about it is one of the highest challenges. Here [in sex-crime cases] you have someone who doesn’t want to talk to you about what they did. Why would they?”

If it were always as easy as getting the rapist to sip from a straw at a Taco Bell, police work would be a breeze. Criminals usually aren’t that cooperative--however unwittingly.

Here’s my hunch: Hoffman probably wouldn’t say so, but he’s probably glad they’re not.

After all, it’s no fun to match wits with someone who gives up without a fight.

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Dana Parsons’ column appears Wednesdays, Fridays and Sundays. Readers may reach Parsons by calling (714) 966-7821 or by writing to him at The Times’ Orange County edition, 1375 Sunflower Ave., Costa Mesa, CA 92626, or by e-mail to dana.parsons@latimes.com.