You May Call One Loudmouth Protestor ‘Officer Rumplestiltskin’

Ari L. NoonanEditor's Essays


In the Culver City Police Dept., we are told, officers of lieutenant rank and above are required to file full financial disclosure documents once a year.

Never mind that certain high-ranking officers of the recent past may have slipped through a crack that was a little broader than intended by the policy-setters. Wink, wink.

Our concern, today, however, is the prolonged, puerile foot-stomping, attention-chasing tantrum by Timmy Sands, the new president of the Los Angeles Police Protective League.

Doubling his fists, Mr. Sands has orchestrated a hoped-for chaotic response to yesterday’s controversial and unanimous vote by the Los Angeles Police Commission.

In compliance with the 7-year-old federal consent decree (stemming from a crooked cop scandal) — which means Los Angeles is not its own boss — the 600 officers working the gang and drug details of the LAPD will be required to make “complete” personal financial disclosures on a regular basis.

After the vote, Mr. Sands resembled Rumplestiltskin.


‘May I Have (or Go Through) the Floor?’

He did not appear to go through the floor. But it may not have been a bad idea since he has been “ordering” the affected officers to demand transfers or threaten mass resignations. Whatever it takes to block the order.

Speaking as his union was filing suit to gain an immediate injunction against forcing the disclosures, Mr. Sands said, with altar-boy piety, “We will protect the ‘rights’ of our officers.” Rights? I hope he was joking.

Pal, didn’t anyone tell you that “Alice in Wonderland” is fiction? How do you think the LAPD got into this fix? By eschewing such scrutiny.

Mr. Sands is a 33-year department veteran and a union hardliner of the A.J. Duffy type. He came from the streets, busting druggies. He knows exactly the heaps of vaguely recorded, off-the-record booty that practically tumbles into laps of cops on gang and narcotics beats.


Is Protection the Game?

“The only reason I can think of for Sands, or any officer, to object,” a law enforcement veteran told this newspaper, “is to protect those who have something to hide. As police officers, we are supposed to be held to a higher standard. Good.

“We are supposed to be upholding the system of law and order. What is the public supposed to think when a leader, like Sands, says, ‘We are not going to comply.’

“Unless you are hiding something, I cannot think of one other reason for making such a statement.”


Invasion? Privacy?

The middle-aged officer practically mocked the union president for claiming that forcing financial disclosure constituted a privacy invasion and could leave private records vulnerable to wide, indiscreet exposure.

“Poppycock,” said the officer. “I can go on the internet this morning and find out how many credit cards Tim Sands has, how much property he owns, how much debt he has. Who is he trying to kid?”

Then he posed the pivotal question:

“Do you suppose the protesting officers are ashamed of their debt or of their great wealth?”


Two More Years to Make a Killing

The good news is that the LAPD boys now on these honesty-tempting beats have two more years before they would be forced to file their first reports.

Not a bad grace period for people who may have plenty to shield from inspection.

LAPD officers who are honest, and especially those who are not, have two more years to paper over whatever they have walked away with in their numerous shadowy raids.

It takes considerably more moral strength than the average man possesses, their colleagues say, for cops working the gang and narcotics beats to resist taking a cut of the riches they regularly stumble into.

In Culver City, we are told, it has been known for years that police officers have enriched themselves, absolutely off-the-record, you understand.


The Worst Response

The most arrogant reaction I have seen was from LAPD Lt. Don Brady, who supervises dozens of narcotics officers.

Said the man (who may have been a fan of the Brady Bunch) about his boys: “They really feel like they’re not being trusted.”

In one word, bingo.