End hair-trigger policing

LAPD Chief William J. Bratton is right and wrong about the shooting of Jose Raul Pena and his infant daughter, Suzie Marie Pena.

Yes, Pena was a bad man. Yes, he put his family, neighbors and police officers at mortal risk with his reckless behavior. And Bratton is right that even though it was the police who killed the 19-month-old girl, ultimately Pena -- who put her in harm’s way during the deadly shootout -- bears responsibility for the tragedy too.

But Bratton is dead wrong if he believes that all the responsibility lies with Pena, or that there was nothing inappropriate about the level of force that the officers used.

The killing of Suzie Pena -- and the LAPD’s subsequent effort to pin the entire blame on her father -- strikes to the heart of an issue that has haunted the department for many years: How much force is too much force? What should police do when confronted with an armed suspect, as in the case of Pena, or an unarmed suspect, in the case of 13-year-old Devin Brown, who was shot and killed by an LAPD officer on Feb. 6 following an auto theft chase. When, if ever, is it justified to strike suspects, or to shoot them -- and who is to blame when innocent people die?

These questions are arising against the backdrop of the long, turbulent and contentious relationship between the LAPD and the minority communities of L.A. Going as far back as the reign of Chief William Parker in the 1950s, the department had a reputation for employing a brutal, take-no-prisoners style of policing in minority communities.

Then, in a damning report in 1991, the Christopher Commission identified hundreds of officers who had been the targets of citizen complaints of excessive force, mostly against blacks and Latinos. Some had six complaints or more against them for using improper tactics in dealing with suspects. It tactfully labeled them “potential problem officers.” The officers were accused of beating suspects, kicking them and, in some cases, shooting them.

Virtually nothing was done to discipline these officers. In fact, a follow-up report done almost two years later found that nearly all of these “problem officers” were still on the job, and there was no indication that any of them had even undergone the intensive counseling or training that the commission had initially recommended. It took years and tremendous pressure from the Police Commission and the U.S. Justice Department to persuade the LAPD to drop its resistance to a computerized monitoring system that would better track civilian complaints regarding the use of excessive force.

In a 1993 interview shortly after his conviction in federal court for beating black motorist Rodney King, then-LAPD Sgt. Stacey Koon told an interviewer that he had acted as he had because there were no clear policy rules -- no training or procedures -- on what constitutes excessive force when subduing suspects. Some dismissed Koon’s complaint as a self-serving ploy by a disgraced rogue cop.

The shooting of Margaret Mitchell, a middle-aged homeless woman in 1999, by an LAPD officer was a near-textbook example of the continuing blind spot within the department when it comes to establishing clear, firm guidelines on when an officer can and can’t use deadly force. The vague rule is that an officer can use deadly force when he feels his life is endangered and there are no less-extreme options to subdue a subject. But what does that really mean?

Mitchell was gunned down when she allegedly advanced on two officers with a screwdriver. But was shooting her the only option? Couldn’t the officers have fired a warning shot? Couldn’t they have shot her in the arm or the leg? Couldn’t they have used one of the nonlethal weapons in their arsenal -- such as a stun gun, Tasers, rubber bullets, tear gas pellets, pepper spray or beanbags -- to immobilize her?

In the Devin Brown shooting earlier this year, enraged family members, friends and black leaders angrily asked the same questions.

The officer who shot Brown claimed his life was in danger when Brown tried to run him over. But was deadly force the only way to stop him after a high-speed chase? Could and should the officer have used a variety of nonlethal weapons and tactics, (including simply getting out of the way) to defuse the situation?

Bratton, to his credit, immediately called for (and got) the Police Commission to enact rules to minimize confrontations and deaths that result from high-speed chases. That was welcome, but it’s a piecemeal approach to the bigger, ongoing problem of how to prevent questionable officer shootings such as those of Mitchell, Brown and Lopez.

Bratton and the Police Commission must now do what they have long resisted and make a full and comprehensive review of LAPD policy on the use of deadly force. The department must put down in black and white, once and for all, when and under what circumstances officers are allowed to use deadly force. It should set a timetable for completing the review of its shooting policy and for implementing changes in that policy.

The overuse of excessive force is still the biggest issue poisoning relations between the police and minority communities. It has sparked deadly racial turmoil and civil unrest in Los Angeles and other cities. Even before the violent confrontations between the LAPD and minority communities in the 1960s, the issue of deadly force was a problem.

Without an ironclad policy and firm procedures on when officers can resort to gunfire -- and a willingness to discipline those who break the rules -- it is impossible to ever fully restore the confidence of community leaders and residents in the LAPD. Bratton admirably showed willingness to discipline those officers who beat a black suspect with a flashlight last year -- proving in the process that it is possible to impose rules and discipline in the police department.

The tragic shooting of Suzie Pena, an innocent if there ever was one, gives the LAPD another chance to do that.