Court Is Last Hope for Death Row Dogs

Buried deep inside local government codes is a little-known process designed for those with strong convictions. The will to fight. And in many cases, thousands of dollars for an attorney.

If you lose, it could result in death--for your dog, that is.

Each year, animal control officers all over the country declare hundreds of biting canines dangerous or vicious. Some have prior records; others are first-time offenders. Many face strict probation, with conditions ranging from muzzling to neutering. Some are euthanized without appeal.

But the few pet owners who challenge the death penalty must wind their way through a canine justice system akin to a criminal proceeding. It can be brief or drag on for months.

It takes an unusually passionate breed of dog owner willing to wage the fight because the chances of total victory are tiny. The owners might well save the dog’s life, but the animal generally is sentenced to live at an animal sanctuary far from them or subjected to around-the-clock muzzling.

In Orange County, the process includes the equivalent of death row, with quarantined dogs housed away from other animals in 3-by-10-foot cells marked “Special Attention.” Death row is Kennel 55 at Animal Care Services in Orange, next door to the juvenile justice center.

That’s where Slater, a 3-year-old Neapolitan mastiff from San Juan Capistrano, has been held for nearly a year while his owners, Dave Leto and Gay McElwaine, fight for his life--at a cost of thousands of dollars.

“Slater is part of our family. He’s like a son,” Leto said. “If I don’t try to save this dog, nobody else is going to try to defend him.”

The 120-pound dog stands accused of being vicious. On Christmas Day, he bit a 10-year-old boy on the face, sending him to the emergency room for more than 50 stitches. The boy still needs extensive plastic surgery to repair 2-inch scars on his cheeks and a therapist to help cure his nightmares.

His family has filed a civil lawsuit against the dog’s owners, their longtime friends.

It doesn’t help that Slater already had a rap sheet describing a Ventura County incident in June 2000, when he lunged at a 12-year-old girl. That bite required 25 stitches.

“He cannot be trusted and he’s unpredictable,” said James Turner, the Orange County deputy county counsel who is prosecuting Slater. “He’s a . . . pup, but he’s bitten two children in the face. The public should not be faced with that kind of risk.”

Defender Bills $200 an Hour

But Slater has his defender too: Encino attorney Michael Rotsten, who favors animal-print ties and bills a cool $200 an hour to battle it out with the likes of Turner.

The boy’s family has an attorney as well, and he says it’s all over the top--that Slater has been given more due process than most humans. “We’re taking up courtroom space and the time and energy of county and judicial employees,” attorney Ara Sahelian said.

While the justice system for prosecuting and defending dogs can seem excessive to some, the issue is a serious one that has come to glaring public attention with the fatal dog attack on a San Francisco woman in January. Diane Whipple, a 33-year-old college lacrosse coach, was mauled to death by two large Presa Canario dogs, Bane and Hera.

The owners, attorneys Marjorie Knoller and Robert Noel, are accused of training their animals to fight, attack or kill. A grand jury indicted Knoller on charges including second-degree murder, while Noel faces lesser charges. Their trial, which has been moved to Los Angeles, is scheduled to begin in January.

Bane was destroyed shortly after the attack, but Noel and Knoller have been engaged in an 11-month legal fight to keep Hera alive even as they face their own trial. After several hearings, a state appellate court recently ruled that Hera should be destroyed. No decision has been made on whether to appeal the decision to the state Supreme Court.

And in Rialto last month, a 3-week-old girl was mauled to death by the family’s two Siberian huskies. The dogs attacked the baby, who was sleeping in a waist-high bassinet, when the girl’s mother stepped outside to speak with a pest control worker. The dogs remain under quarantine.

Each year, roughly 4.7 million people--mostly children--are bitten by dogs nationwide. Ten to 20 of those bites are fatal, according to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. Overall, 800,000 dog bites required medical attention in 1994, the most recent year for which statistics are available.

Typically, any serious bite becomes the county’s concern. An animal control officer investigates and decides whether the pet should be destroyed or face restrictions. In Orange and Riverside counties, owners who appeal can ask for an administrative hearing. That hearing then can be appealed to Superior Court or higher.

It’s only in the last few years that Riverside and Los Angeles counties have created systems that allow dog owners to take their concerns and appeals straight to a judge.

In Los Angeles County, the matter goes straight to Superior Court, where a judge hears testimony from victims, dog owners and occasionally experts before ruling. County officials said they switched to this system because so many pet owners were appealing their cases. And the court hearings give the judge and prosecutors better enforcement options, such as demanding that the dogs be muzzled or that the owners buy liability insurance.

Dog-Bite Cases Rarely Go to Court

Some 6,500 dog-bite cases were reported in Los Angeles County in 2000. In most instances, pet owners and the county agree on reasonable restrictions such as muzzling, neutering or better fencing around the yard. If no resolution is reached, the county can take the matter to court. Since March 1999, the county counsel’s office has only filed nine dangerous dog cases; three went to trial.

In Riverside County, where 609 people were bitten last year, 240 cases went through arbitration. In Orange County, there were 2,296 reported dog bites in 2000. So far this year, animal control officials have launched 52 investigations; three dogs are on death row with owners appealing their destruction orders, while 16 dogs were destroyed without appeal.

No matter where in Southern California a dog is tried, there’s a good chance it will be defended by Rotsten, the specialist in dog rights. He says that 90% of the time he is able to save the dog’s life, though often tough restrictions are imposed.

He blames animal control officers for what he calls a rush to judgment against his clients. He likens Orange County’s hearings to a “kangaroo court.” But then he quickly apologizes for using a politically incorrect “insult to animals” to describe the justice system.

“Is it a waste of resources to fight over a dog?” Rotsten asked. “To me, it’s a life. If people want to spend every dime they have to save the life of their dog, I have no problem with that.”

Life Spared With Major Restrictions

Monika and Stephen Williams shelled out $30,000 in legal fees to Rotsten in 1996 to fight Orange County’s ruling that their bull mastiff Boo should be put to death.

“We did feel like we were David and [animal control] was Goliath,” Stephen Williams said.

After several hearings, they won their dogfight after agreeing to major restrictions.

Boo’s life was spared, but he had to spend his days and nights muzzled. The bull mastiff also was locked in an enclosed dog run--one gussied up with a gazebo so he would feel less imprisoned. The couple estimate that they lost $40,000 in wages and $70,000 when they sold their house in Yorba Linda and relocated so they could stay with Boo, who was required to live at least one mile from his victim. Boo died in August at the age of 8.

So far, Rotsten has been less successful with Slater. The dog lost the first round in August, when an administrative hearing judge determined that he should be destroyed. In November, after Slater’s “trial,” a Superior Court judge declared him vicious and ordered his destruction.

In a last-ditch attempt to save Slater’s life, Rotsten fired off a quick request that the judge reconsider his ruling and let Slater live with new owners. A hearing will be held in December.

The bull mastiff was a tough case from the start.

Animal control officials conducted a full-fledged “crime scene” investigation. An animal control lieutenant interviewed neighbors, researched Slater’s past and wrote a report before determining that the only solution was to destroy the dog.

When Slater’s owners appealed, the county scheduled an administrative hearing--complete with sparring attorneys, a court reporter and a retired judge as the hearing officer. The family even retained expert witnesses.

The experts, two dog trainers from Stanton, videotaped Slater for about an hour to evaluate his behavior.

During a detail-laden hearing that occasionally erupted into squabbles, the experts and lawyers dissected every detail of Slater’s actions.

When Slater whipped his head around and snapped after being touched, animal control officers said it was aggressive. Dog trainer Diana Foster testified that it was “reflex behavior.”

“He’s snapping in a playful manner,” she said after the hearing. “It wasn’t a vicious bite, it was a play bite. He’s big and he’s hurting because he’s rough. What we observed is a very confident dog.

“He does have issues, but we think a lot of it is in the owners.”

Cross-examination of the bitten boy was particularly tense; the retired judge had to warn Rotsten to go easier on him after the defense lawyer questioned him in detail on such matters as the flavor of crackers he had been eating or whether they contained cheese. Slater might have been going for the crackers and not the child, Rotsten argued.

Slater’s owners have spent $10,000 in legal fees. Every day that passes, they rack up an additional $42 in kennel costs--a tab that is approaching $14,000.

But animal control officers and county attorneys are equally driven. They can spend dozens of staff hours and thousands of taxpayer dollars to prosecute animals they see as maimers and potential killers.

“People ask me why I’m doing this like I’m harassing them because I’m filing these cases,” said Diane Reagan, Los Angeles County’s senior deputy county counsel. “The county has no financial interest in this. . . . Public safety. That’s my only issue.”

Public Often Sides With Attacker

Much to their frustration, the dog-loving public often sides with the attacker.

New Jersey was so riveted by the plight of Taro, an Akita facing the death penalty for attacking a 10-year-old girl, that former Gov. Christine Todd Whitman issued an executive pardon in 1994 and banished the dog from the state. Taro’s owner was flooded with thousands of offers to adopt the Akita, and the dog ultimately moved to New York.

In Oregon, dog lovers launched Web pages and Internet campaigns in 1996 to help save a horse-chasing collie-malamute mix named Nadas. His death penalty was lifted and he was sentenced to live out his life at Best Friends, an animal sanctuary in Utah.

Most dogs aren’t that lucky. In fact, the vast majority of owners voluntarily put their dogs down, either to avoid the expense of defending them or because they agree the dogs are dangerous.

Donna Filadelfia of Fullerton thought long and hard about her 140-pound Akita’s track record before making her decision.

In March, Tonka bit a 42-year-old woman and her 14-year-old nephew. Animal control officials quarantined the dog for 10 days, declared him “potentially dangerous” but not vicious. They ordered Filadelfia to neuter the dog and keep him leashed or behind a locked gate with signs warning people to beware.

At that point, she thought her dog might have been provoked. But in July, Tonka escaped from her yard and attacked three men--including neighbors who tried to intervene--biting their arms and stomachs.

“I don’t know why he attacked, but nothing would justify the nightmare the people went through,” said a tearful Filadelfia, who agreed to have the dog put to death.

“We miss him and I feel bad, but I still think it was the better thing to do. When you live in a neighborhood, you should be able to walk down the street and not worry about a dog attacking you. As a dog owner, you have to be responsible.”

Slater’s owners say they are willing to accept restrictions and attend obedience and training classes. They are not willing to see their dog die.

“I have friends that said, ‘I would have walked up and shot that dog,’ ” said Leto, Slater’s owner. “But . . . life’s more important than money.”

He and McElwaine prove that every week when they trek from San Juan Capistrano to Orange for a supervised 25-minute visit with Slater. Once they sneaked him banned doggie treats, but they were caught and had their visiting hours curtailed. They still are allowed to bring his favorite meal, though: brown rice mixed with ground beef.

As the months wear on, they fear canine death row is taking a toll on their hazel-eyed dog. He’s dropping pounds, his charcoal coat is growing gray, his mouth droops. Even when he is released into the exercise yard, his gait is slow.

“He’s really depressed,” McElwaine said.