Stress, Anger and an Endless Toll

Los Angeles Police Department detectives buried under an avalanche of homicides in South and Central L.A. during the early 1990s felt something was unfair -- morally wrong, even -- in the way the department handled murders in these areas.

Investigators said they suspected they had higher caseloads but had little proof.

A Times analysis shows they were right: Workloads for South Los Angeles detectives were nearly 30% higher than those of their West L.A. and Valley colleagues, going back to 1990; those of Central bureau detectives were about 60% higher.

“I used to argue with people,” recalled a retired LAPD South Bureau detective, Paul Mize. “I’d say, ‘People in South L.A. are just as dead as people in West L.A.’ ”

The disparity was emotionally taxing for homicide detectives. Many described simmering frustration. Some expressed cynicism toward the department, the media and the public -- feelings that linger.

Over and over, they repeated the same phrase: No one seemed to care.

“You were dealing with problems and people that the majority of society doesn’t want to think about -- doesn’t want to deal with their tragedy and grief,” said Det. John Garcia, who has investigated 200 cases in Newton Division and the South bureau. “They are not the ones who have to knock on that front door at 2 a.m. and say, ‘Your loved one has been killed.’ ”

Recalling such scenes, Garcia added: “I can remember screams that woke the whole neighborhood.... Oh, it’s real distinct, that scream. It’s bone-chilling.”

Homicides soared in Los Angeles in the early 1990s, following a national trend. The killings were concentrated in South and Central L.A. By 1992, the city was seeing a homicide catastrophe unlike any in its history, with more than 1,000 murders a year.

Detectives worked nonstop, ruined their health and family lives, racked up overtime and divorces. Even so, the mountain of backlogged cases kept growing.

“New cases piled on, and new cases piled on,” said Det. Jerry Pirro. “It got to the point where we were pretty much living at the station. The phone would ring, and you’d cringe.”

Detectives recalled being at the scene of one homicide and getting paged to another. They would be up all night and then get called out the next morning. “You worked as much overtime as you could physically handle,” said Det. Adrian Soler, who has investigated about 150 cases.

“You had no family life, really,” said Chuck Tizano of the 77th Street Division, a veteran of South Bureau who has lost track of how many cases he has worked.

Strokes and heart attacks became such a problem that it prompted South Bureau homicide supervisors in the early 1990s to reorganize their department in an effort to reduce stress. One detective had collapsed in the office.

“The burnout rate was unbelievable,” said Mize, formerly a South Bureau homicide supervisor. Detectives would beg to be transferred, Mize said. “They’d say, ‘I can’t do this anymore. My wife is going to throw me out!’ ”

Many homicide detectives took pride in their stamina. “Back then we were younger,” recalled Det. Kelle Baitx, a homicide supervisor in Newton Division. “We loved it.”

But nearly all said their work suffered. They talked of butchering cases, of choosing which to work on by a process of triage.

“You could have cases with viable leads, but you didn’t have time to work them because fresh stuff was coming in,” said Det. Rick Marks, a former South Bureau homicide detective who has investigated more than 160 cases.

As the deaths kept mounting, and investigations grew roughshod, some detectives began to wonder: Where were the resources? Where was the press? Where was the outrage?

“I remember a banner headline in the Los Angeles Times one weekend,” said Mize. “A bomb in Beirut had killed six people. We had nine murders that weekend, and not a one of them made the paper. Not one.”

Mize recalled writing “poison-pen activities reports” to superiors, complaining of the workload and pleading for more people. His bosses sent the reports back.

“I used to fly off the handle and throw stuff around the room,” he said. “I couldn’t believe the decisions being made in Parker Center” by top police officials.

Reflecting on his years as a South Bureau homicide supervisor, Det. Roosevelt Joseph, now working in 77th Street Division, said he can’t shake one question.

“You wonder about society as a whole,” he said. “Is everybody equal?”