Kentucky Sued In Federal Court Over Drug Treatment

Practices

In November 2006, a narcotics team from the Atlanta Police Department apprehended a man with a
known drug history. They planted marijuana on him, then threatened to arrest him unless he gave
them information about where they could find a supply of illegal drugs. He gave them the address of
92-year-old Kathryn Johnston. Instead of finding an informant to make a controlled buy from the
address, the officer instead lied on the search warrant, inventing an informant and describing a drug
buy that never happened.

When the police broke into Johnston's home on the evening of November 21, 2006, she met them
with an old, non-functioning revolver she used to scare off trespassers. They opened fire. Two
officers were wounded from friendly fire. The other officers called for ambulances for their
colleagues. Meanwhile, they handcuffed Johnston and left her to bleed to death in her own home
while one office planted marijuana in her basement.

A subsequent federal investigation revealed that lying on drug warrants was common in the APD,
the product of a quota system the department imposed on narcotics cops. That system was the result
of the pool of federal funding for drug policing, funding for which the department competed with
other police departments across the country. The federal investigation and media reports also found
numerous other victims of wrong-door police raids in the years leading up to Johnston's death. The
entire narcotics department was later fired or transferred. While Johnston's death led to calls for
changes in the way the city enforces the drug laws, there was little in the way of real reform. The
city instituted a civilian review board to oversee the police department, but its powers were severely
weakened after complaints from the police union, and its first director eventually resigned in
frustration.

Sources: Ted Conover, "Alex White, Professional Snitch," The New York Times, June 29, 2012;
Rhonda Cook, "Chain of Lies Led to Botched Raid," Atlanta Journal-Constitution, April 27, 2007;
reporting by Radley Balko.

Known around the neighborhood as "Pops," 80-year-old Isaac Singletary moved into his high-crime
Jacksonville, Fla., neighborhood in 1987 to care for and protect his sister and mother, both of whom
were sick at the time. The retired repairman was known to sit in front of his house in a lawn chair to
shoo trespassers and drug dealers away from his property.

But in January 2007, two undercover narcotics cops, posed as drug dealers, set up shop on
Singletary's lawn. Singletary first came out of his house and yelled at them to leave. They didn't. He
went back inside. Minutes later, he came out again and told them to leave, this time while waving a
handgun. One of the cops then opened fire. Wounded, Singletary tried to escape into his backyard.
The cops chased him down and shot him again, this time in the back. Singletary died at the scene.
They never told Singletary they were police officers.

The police initially claimed Singletary tried to rob them, then they claimed Singletary fired first. Five
witnesses said that wasn't true. Three months later, investigating state attorney Harry Shorstein
initially expressed some frustration with the operation. "If we're just selling drugs to addicts, I don't
know what we're accomplishing," he told the Florida Times-Union.

But three months later, Shorstein cleared the officers of any criminal wrongdoing. His report
included a couple of inconsistencies. First, while attorneys for Singletary's family found four
witnesses who said the police fired first, Shorstein could find only one -- a convicted drug dealer
Shorstein deemed untrustworthy. Second, while Shorstein criticized the police officers for not
identifying themselves before they started shooting at Singletary, he still put the bulk of the blame
on Singletary himself. He concluded Singletary "was an armed civilian who refused orders to drop
his gun," even though Singletary thought the orders came from two drug dealers.

Ironically, Singletary's death came a little less than two years after Florida passed a highly
publicized law expanding the right to self-defense. The "Stand Your Ground" law removed the
traditional legal requirement that when faced with a threat, you must first attempt to escape before
using lethal force.

An internal report from the Jacksonville Sheriff's Office also cleared the two undercover officers,
Darrin Green and James Narcisse, of violating any department policies. The report, written by five
members of the sheriff's department, concluded that they had followed department procedures, and
that "no further action" was necessary. Narcisse, the first officer to fire at Singletary, was later fired
for disciplinary reasons that the sheriff's department said were unrelated to the Singletary case.

Sheriff John Rutherford eventually conceded that Singletary was "a good citizen" and that his death
was "a tragic incident." But he also rebuffed calls to end undercover drug stings like the one police
were conducting on Singletary's property. Then-Florida Gov. Charlie Crist called it one of the

"challenges" of keeping a community safe. In 2010, the city of Jacksonville agreed to pay Singletary's
family a $200,000 settlement, though the city admitted no wrongdoing.

Sources: David Hunt, "In the wake of 2 fatal shootings, some question police tactics," Florida TimesUnion, January 27, 2007; Mary Kelli Palka, "A neighborhood wonders: Why isn't the sheriff here?;
Rutherford says a federal review isn't needed, defends not going to the scene," Florida Times-Union,
January 30, 2007; Bridget Murphy, "Man's family wants cops to face charges," Florida Times-Union,
July 28, 2007; Jessie-Lynne Kerr, "Board clears officers in shooting; 'No further action' is needed by
police in the case of the January death of an 80-year-old man," Florida Times-Union, August 2, 2008;
Matt Galnor, "City to pay $200,000 in shooting; Officers killed man in 2007," Florida Times-Union,
June 22, 2010; Bridget Murphy and Jim Schoettler, "Drug stings to continue, sheriff says," Florida
Times-Union, January 30, 2007.

In September 2009, Johnathan Ayers, a 28-year-old Baptist pastor from Lavonia, Ga., was gunned
down by a North Georgia narcotics task force in the parking lot of a gas station. Police would later
acknowledge he was not using or trafficking in illicit drugs. Instead, Ayers had been ministering to
Johanna Barrett, the actual target of the investigation.

According to an interview Barrett gave to a North Georgia newspaper shortly after Ayers' death, on
the day he died the pastor had seen her walking near a gas station on her way back to an extendedstay motel where she lived with her boyfriend. Ayers had known Barrett for a number of years, and
offered her a ride back to the motel. He also gave her the money in his pocket, $23, to help pay her
rent.

The police were trailing Barrett at the time. But instead of apprehending her at the motel, they
instead followed Ayers, who they saw hand Ayers cash.

They followed Ayers to a nearby gas station where he withdrew some money from an ATM. Shortly
after he got back into his car, a black Escalade pulled up behind him. Three officers, all undercover,
rushed Ayers' vehicle and pointed their guns at him. The pastor panicked and attempted to escape.
As he backed out, Ayers' car grazed one police officer. Officer Billy Shane Harrison then opened fire,
shooting Ayers in the stomach. Ayers drove for another thousand yards before crashing his car. He
died at the hospital. His last words to his family and medical staff were that he thought he was being
robbed. The police found no illicit drugs in his car.

A grand jury later declined to indict Harrison for any crime. District Attorney Brian Rickman praised
the Georgia Bureau of Investigation for going to "very extraordinary lengths" to conduct a fair

investigation. But a civil suit suggested otherwise. The complaint alleged that Harrison wasn't
authorized to arrest him. On the day Ayers was killed, Harrison had yet to take the firearms training
classes required for his certification as a police officer. In fact, Harrison had no training at all in the
use of lethal force.

Harrison's lack of training was later confirmed by local TV station WSB-TV and, after the fact, by the
GBI. Harrison was suspended. The civil suit also alleged prior disciplinary problems with Harrison
and another officer involved in her husband's death, including alleged drug use.

Sources: Rob Moore, "Case File: Ayers Feared a Robbery," The Northeast Georgian, December 29,
2009; Steve Huff, "Did a Good Dead Lead Pastor Jonathan Ayers to his Death?" September 10, 2009;
Jessica Waters, "GBI Findings Outlined," The Toccoa Record, December 28, 2009; Denise Matthews,
"Grand Jury Declares Ayers Shooting Justified," Franklin County Citizen, December 24, 2009; Charlie
Bauder, "District Attorney Defends Investigation of Preacher's Death," Anderson Independent-Mail,
December 22, 2009; Estate of Jonathan Ayers v. Officer Billy Shane Harrison, et al., complaint, filed
in the United States District Court for the Northern District of Georgia, March 15, 2010; "Arrest
Made in Pastor Death Case," Actions News 2, WSB-TV Atlanta, June 18, 2010; Rob Moore, "NCIS
Officer on Leave Pending Probe," The Toccoa Record, March 29, 2010; Jessica Waters, "Ayers
Federal Civil Case Updated," The Toccoa Record, January 6, 2011.

In October 1992, a team of police from state and federal agencies raided the ranch of 61-year-old
Malibu millionaire Donald Scott. The raid was led by the Los Angeles County Sheriff's Department,
even though Scott actually lived in Ventura County. The police in that county weren't notified of the
raid. Scott's new wife first encountered the police in the kitchen. Hearing her scream, Scott armed
himself, and went to meet the intruders. He was shot dead in his home.

Scott was suspected of growing marijuana. Friends and relatives would later say that while Scott
was a hard drinker, he wasn't a drug user, and in fact deplored the use of illicit drugs. The raid
turned up no marijuana plants, nor any evidence of marijuana growth.

A subsequent investigation by Ventura County District Attorney Michael Bradbury was highly critical
of the investigation, raid, and motives of the police agencies involved. Bradbury found ample
evidence that the police agencies -- particularly the L.A. County sheriff's office -- were eyeing Scott's
$5 million ranch for asset forfeiture, and had been told by the DEA that it could initiate forfeiture
proceedings if authorities found as few as 14 marijuana plants. The report found that the warrant
affidavits included false information, misleading information, and omitted information that would
have indicated to a judge that Scott wasn't engaged in any illegal activity.

In 2000, Francis Plante -- Scott's widow -- settled with the various agencies involved in her

husband's death for $5 million. No police officers were ever disciplined for Scott's death.

Sources: Michael Fessier Jr., "Trail's End; Deep in a Wild Canyon West of Malibu, a Controversial
Law Brought Together a Zealous Sheriff 's Deputy and an Eccentric Recluse. A Few Seconds Later,
Donald Scott Was Dead," Los Angeles Times Magazine, August 1, 1993; Michael Bradbury, "Report
on the Death of Donald Scott by Ventura County District Attorney Michael Bradbury," March 30,
1993.

Esequiel Hernandez, 18, was herding goats near his home in Redford, Texas, when he was killed by
a team of U.S. Marines in 1997. Dressed in camouflage, the Marines were deployed near the border
town as part of a federal program aimed at stopping the flow of illegal drugs into the United States
from Mexico.

Hernandez carried a rifle to scare off predatory animals. When he heard noises from the hiding
Marines, he fired in their direction. One Marine fired back, striking New Jersey Rapid Drug Detox
Hernandez in the chest. The U.S. government later paid the Hernandez family a $1.9 million
settlement. None of the Marines was criminally charged.

Sources: "Oversight Investigation of the Death of Esequiel Hernandez, Jr.: A Report of Chairman
Lamar Smith to the Subcommittee on Immigration & Claims of the Committee on the Judiciary,"
House of Representatives, 150th congress. United States Government Printing, January 1998; Monte
Paulsen, "Fatal Error: The Pentagon's War on Drugs Takes a Toll on the Innocent," Austin Chronicle,
July 11, 2008.

In December 2008, an undercover narcotics cop in Lima, Ohio, had bought cocaine from 31-year-old
Anthony Terry. They could have arrested Terry then, but they didn't. They also could have arrested
him two days before a raid on his home during a traffic stop when they found cocaine in the car. At
the time he was pulled over, the police had been watching the home of Terry's girlfriend, 26-year-old
Tarika Wilson. Instead, on Jan. 4, 2009, the Lima SWAT team staged a pre-dawn raid on Wilson's
home.

Terry, on the first floor at the time, surrendered immediately. As Sgt. Joseph Chavalia ascended the
steps to the second floor, he saw signs of movement in a bedroom. He ordered whomever was inside
to drop to the floor. At about the same time, downstairs in the kitchen, one of Chavalia's fellow
officers fired a few rounds at Terry's dogs. Chavalia mistook those shots for hostile fire and opened
fire on the upstairs room. Two bullets from Chavalia's gun struck Wilson in the neck, while she was
on her knees, with one hand in the air. Her other hand was holding her 1-year-old son, Sincere.
Wilson died. Sincere was shot in the shoulder, and had a finger amputated.

Chavalia was charged with negligent homicide and negligent assault. A jury acquitted him on both
charges. At the trial, a use-of-force expert and former Los Angeles Police Department SWAT member
said that if anything, Chavalia should have fired at the unarmed woman sooner.

Despite the prosecutor's decision to charge Chavalia, an internal Lima PD investigation found that
he had followed department use-of-force protocol. After his acquittal, Chavalia was returned to the
force. Lima Police Chief Greg Garlock said he had no plans to change the way the police department
used its SWAT team. In January 2010, the city of Lima settled with Wilson's estate for $2.5 million.
The money was put in a trust for Sincere and her other children.

Sources: Christopher Maag, "Police Shooting of Mother and Infant Exposes a City's Racial Tension,"
The New York Times, January 30, 2008; Sarah Stemen, "Five years later: Friends, family of Tarika
Wilson say nothing has changed," Lima News, January 4, 2013; "Experts: Woman on knees when
shot," Associated Press, July 31, 2008.

Shortly after California legalized medical marijuana in 1996, the Clinton administration began drug
raids on dispensaries and cultivators, even though they were complying with federal law. One of
those raids was on the Los Angeles marijuana grow operation of Todd McCormick and Peter
McWilliams.

McCormick used pot to treat the pain associated with a cancer treatment that had fused two of his
vertebrae. McWilliams had been diagnosed with AIDS, then with non-Hodgkins lymphoma brought
on by AIDS. Smoking marijuana eased his nausea, which helped him keep take his medication both
to manage his AIDS the chemotherapy for his lymphoma. McWilliams was a self-help author, and
had become an outspoken civil liberties activist. With respect to pot, he also made no attempt to
hide the fact that while it was medicinal, it also made him feel good. The high took his mind off the
fact that he was battling two diseases.

McWilliams and McCormick were raided in 1997, by DEA agents -- as McWilliams later described it,
"guns drawn, commando-style." Because they were tried on federal charges, the jury wasn't allowed
to hear that the two men had broken no California laws. McWilliams' doctors were also prohibited
from testifying about his marijuana use. Because of those restrictions, McWilliams pleaded guilty
and hoped for leniency.

But after his arrest, McWilliams' mother put up her house as collateral to post his bail. One
condition of McWilliams' bail was that he refrain from smoking marijuana. Prosecutors told
McWilliams and his mother that if he failed a drug test or was caught with pot she'd lose her house.
So McWilliams abstained from using the drug. Consequently, he got sicker.

McWilliams was found dead in his apartment on June 14, 2000. Overcome with nausea, he had
thrown up, then choked and aspirated on his own vomit. The conservative icon and legalization
advocate William F. Buckley eulogized McWilliams in his syndicated column.

Peter McWilliams is dead. Age? Fifty. Profession? Author, poet, publisher . . .

What was his offense? He collaborated in growing marijuana plants.

What was his defense? Well, the judge wouldn't allow him to plead his defense to the jury. If given a
chance, the defense would have argued that under Proposition 215, passed into California
constitutional law in 1996, infirm Californians who got medical relief from marijuana were permitted
to use it. The judge also forbade any mention that McWilliams suffered from AIDS and cancer, and
got relief from the marijuana.

What was he doing when he died? Vomiting. The vomiting hit him while in his bathtub, and he
choked to death.

Was there nothing he might have done to still the impulse to vomit? Yes, he could have taken
marijuana; but the judge's bail terms forbade him to do so, and he submitted to weekly urine tests to
confirm that he was living up to the terms of his bail . . .

Peter was a wry, mythogenic guy, humorous, affectionate, articulate, shrewd, sassy . . . Imagine such
a spirit ending its life at 50, just because they wouldn't let him have a toke. We have to console
ourselves with the comment of the two prosecutors. They said they were "saddened" by Peter
McWilliams' death. Many of us are--by his death and the causes of it . . .

The struggle against a fanatical imposition of federal laws on marijuana will continue, as also on the
question whether federal laws can stifle state initiatives. Those who believe the marijuana laws are
insanely misdirected have a martyr.

Sources: Peter McWilliams, "The DEA Wishes Me a Nice Day," Liberty, May, 1998; William F.
Buckley, Jr., "Peter McWilliams, R.I.P." Universal Press Syndicate, June 21, 2000; R.W. Bradford,
"The Life and Death of Peter McWilliams," Liberty, August 2000; "Los Angeles Drug Case Bars
Medical Marijuana Defense," The New York Times, November 7, 1999.

The Rev. Accleyne Williams, a 75-year-old retired minister, died of a heart attack on March 25, 1994,
after struggling with 13 members of a masked, heavily armed Boston SWAT team that stormed his
apartment. The police later revealed that an informant had given them incorrect information.

According to the Boston Herald, "a warrant authorizing the raid was approved by Suffolk County
Assistant District Attorney Mary Lou Moran, even though the application supporting the warrant did
not specify which apartment on the building's second floor was to be targeted. It also failed to
provide corroboration of the confidential informant's tip that a Jamaican drug posse operated out of
the building."

Another police source told the Herald: "You'd be surprised at how easily this can happen. An
informant can tell you it is the apartment on the left at the top of the stairs and there could be two
apartments on the left at the top of the stairs . . . You are supposed to verify it, and I'm not making
excuses, but mistakes can be made."

Another Boston Herald investigation later discovered that three of the officers involved in the
Williams raid had been accused in a 1989 civil rights suit of using nonexistent informants to secure
drug warrants. The city had in fact just settled a suit stemming from a mistaken raid five years
earlier. According to witnesses, one of the officers in that raid apologized as he left, telling the
home's terrified occupants, "This happens all the time."

Sources: Joseph Mallia and Maggie Mulvihill, "Minister Dies as Cops Raid Wrong Apartment,"
Boston Herald, March 26, 1994; Maggie Mulvihill, "Three Cops at Botched Raid Were Sued in Prior
Gaffe," Boston Herald, April 1, 1994; John Milne, "Role of Informants Questioned," Boston Globe,
December 27, 2005.

In 1999, a Denver SWAT team raided the wrong house, and in the process shot and killed 45-year
old Ismael Mena, a Mexican immigrant and father of seven. The police were acting on a tip from an
informant, and claimed they knocked and announced themselves. Mena's family said they never
heard a knock or announcement. Once the police had broken into Mena's home, they ascended a
staircase and kicked open Mena's bedroom door, where they found him standing with a rifle. The
police claimed Mena fired at them first, and they responded by shooting him eight times. They found
no drugs or contraband in the home.

The Denver Police Department's Internal Affairs division was the first to clear the SWAT cops of any
wrongdoing, although it did find that the officer who prepared the search warrant had falsified
information on an affidavit. A special prosecutor then cleared them as well. But several weeks later,
new details started to filter out, raising new questions about the investigation, the raid, and the
aftermath.

First, an assistant to the special prosecutor came out and said that Mena's body had been moved. A
crime lab report then determined that the gunshot residue taken from Mena's hands didn't match
Mena's gun. Instead, it was consistent with the sort of residue from submachine guns like those used
by the Denver SWAT team. Neither Mena's gun, nor the bullets inside it had fingerprints on them.
The mounting evidence suggested someone had tampered with Mena and his gun after the SWAT
team killed him.

The new evidence appeared to put Denver city and law enforcement officials on the defensive.
Information began to leak out that Mena was a violent fugitive who was wanted in Mexico for
murder. In truth, he had shot a man, claimed self-defense, and Mexican police declined to press
charges. He wasn't a fugitive, and had returned to Mexico to visit family several times since the
incident. The Denver Police Department Intelligence Unit also started a "spy file" on an activist
group that formed in 2000 to advocate for police reforms in the wake of Mena's death. Several
months later, Capt. Vince DiManna was transferred to lead that Intelligence Unit. DiManna also led
the SWAT team that killed Mena.

In March 2000, the city of Denver settled with Mena's family for $400,000.

A subsequent Denver Post investigation found that the city's judges exercised almost no scrutiny at
all when approving no-knock warrants. The Rocky Mountain News conducted its own investigation
into the effectiveness of the warrants themselves. The paper found that of the 146 no-knock raids
conducted in Denver in 1999, just 49 resulted in charges of any kind. Of those 49, two resulted in
prison time.

Of those who police argued in warrant affidavits were dangerous enough to merit such dangerous
tactics, a little over 1 percent went to prison. One former prosecutor said of the investigation, "When
you have that violent intrusion on people's homes with so little results, you have to ask why." The
investigation concluded that, "almost all of the 1999 no-knock cases were targeted at people
suspected of being drug dealers. . . . Often the tips went unsubstantiated, and little in the way of
narcotics was recovered. The problem doesn't stem only from the work of inexperienced street cops,
which city officials have maintained. Even veteran narcotics detectives sometimes seek no-knock
warrants based on the word of an informant and without conducting undercover buys to verify the
tips."

A year before Mena's death, Colorado state senator Jim Congrove (R-Arvada), a retired undercover
narcotics detective, introduced legislation that would have put tighter regulations on the deployment
of SWAT teams, the issuance of no-knock warrants and the use of no-knock raids. The bill was
rejected.

Sources: Alan Pendergrast, "Unlawful Entry," Denver Westword News, February 24, 2000; Mike
Soraghan, "Outcry waters down no-knock measure," Denver Post, April 4, 2000.

In 2001, the Peruvian Air Force shot down a plane flying over the Amazon after receiving
information from the CIA that the plane was trafficking narcotics. It was actually filled with
Christian missionaries. The attack resulted in the death of 35-year-old Veronica Bowers and her
infant daughter, Charity. Their deaths were the product of a joint operation between the CIA and the
government of Peru to shoot down suspected drug planes.

Seven years later, CIA Inspector General John Helgerson issued a blistering report finding that the
CIA repeatedly lied and covered up details about the plane intercept program, about the downing of
Bowers' plane, and about similar incidents that never made the news.

"Within hours, CIA officers began to characterize the shootdown as a one-time mistake in an
otherwise well-run program. In fact, this was not the case ... The routine disregard of the required
intercept procedures in the ABDP led to the rapid shooting down of target aircraft without adequate
safeguards to protect against the loss of innocent life," according to the report.

The report found that officers in the program thought adhering to safeguards too strictly could allow
drug-smuggling planes to escape, and that it was easier to shoot planes down than to force them
down with other planes. Consequently, "in many cases, suspect aircraft were shot down within two
to three minutes of being sighted by the Peruvian fighter - without being properly identified, without
being given the required warnings to land, and without being given time to respond to such
warnings as were given to land."

Sources: Ross Colvin, "CIA faulted in shooting down of missionary plane," Reuters, November 20,
2008; Joanna Sugden, "Veronica Bowers: the long fight for justice". London: The Times, February 4,
2010.

Ashley Villarreal, 14, was shot and killed by DEA agents in 2003 in San Antonio.

Ashley was attempting to show off her driving skills to family friend David Robles by taking a drive
around the block. But at the time, the DEA was investigating Ashley's father, Joey Villarreal, for drug
trafficking. As Ashley pulled out of the driveway of the home where Joey Villarreal's mother and
Ashley lived, the federal agents were in the process of staking out the house.

Later explaining that they had mistaken Robles for Ashley's father, the agents boxed in the vehicle
the girl was driving. They claimed she then continued driving toward them, at which point they
opened fire, shooting her in the back of the head. Robles and several witnesses said the agents never
identified themselves, and that Ashley posed no threat, given that her vehicle was already boxed in.
The police found no drugs or weapons in the vehicle, or in the house, nor did they find any evidence
that Ashley's father had been using the house for drug trafficking.

Nevertheless, the agents were cleared of any wrongdoing. Joey Villarreal was later arrested,
convicted of drug charges, and sentenced to 19 years in prison.

Source: Pete Brady, "The Murder of Ashley," Cannabis Culture, October 8, 2003.

Rachel Hoffman, 23, was murdered by drug traffickers in 2008 after agreeing to work as a police
informant. In February 2007, Hoffman was arrested after a traffic stop search turned up 25 grams of
marijuana. A year later, police searched her home and found another 5 ounces of pot, plus four
Ecstasy pills.

In exchange for dropping the charges, Hoffman agreed to become a confidential informant for the
Tallahassee Police Department. Hoffman, a recent college graduate, was set up to buy $13,000
worth of cocaine, guns and MDMA from two men she had never met.

During the transaction, the police lost track of Hoffman as the dealers took her to a different
location than the one initially agreed upon. They murdered her with one of the guns she had
intended to buy.

Outrage over Hoffman's death spurred the Florida legislature to pass "Rachel's Law" in 2009, which
requires extra training for police officers who work with informants, and removes the possibility of
lighter sentences in exchange for informant work.

Sources: Brian Ross and Vic Walter, "Botched Sting: Killed With the Gun She Was Supposed to Buy,"
ABC News 20/20, July 25, 2008; Sarah Stillman, "Pawns in the War on Drugs," The New Yorker,
September 3, 2012; Florida Criminal Statutes, Title XLVII, Chapter 914.28.

On September 13, 2000, agents from the DEA, the FBI, and a Stanislaus County, California narcotics
task force conducted a series of raids on 14 homes in the area of Modesto, Calif.

According to The Los Angeles Times, the DEA and FBI asked that the local SWAT teams enter each
home unannounced in order to secure the area ahead of federal agents, who then came in to search
for evidence. Federal agents warned the SWAT teams that the targets of the warrants, one of whom
was Moises Sepulveda should be considered armed and dangerous. When local police asked if there
were any children in the Sepulveda home, federal agents answered, "Not aware of any."

But Sepulveda had three children, a daughter and two sons. After the police broke into the
Sepulveda home, Moises, his wife and children were ordered to lie face down on the floor as officers
pointed guns at their heads. Moments later, Officer David Hawn fired his gun, killing 11-year-old
Alberto Sepulveda from point-blank range.

There were no drugs or guns in the Sepulveda home. A subsequent internal investigation by the
Modesto Police Department found that the DEA's evidence against Moises Sepulveda, who had no
previous criminal record, was "minimal." The city of Modesto and the federal government settled a
lawsuit brought by the Sepulvedas for $3 million.

Modesto police chief Roy Wasden initially seemed to question the policies and tactics that caused
the boy's death. "What are we gaining by serving these drug warrants?" Wasden asked. "We ought to
be saying, 'It's not worth the risk. We're not going to put our officers and community at risk
anymore.'" Two years later, as part of its settlement with the Sepulveda family, Modesto
implemented changes in the way its SWAT team conducted drug raids, but the drug raids
themselves continued.

A state commission assembled to investigate Sepulveda's death found that while SWAT teams in
California were generally justified as necessary responses to emergency situations like hostage
crises and terror attacks, they were most commonly used to serve drug warrants. But the panel's
final recommendations did little to stop the practice. In fact, critics pointed out that even if the
panel's suggestions had been implemented in the 1990s, the changes would not have prevented the
death of Alberto, the reason the panel had been assembled in the first place.

In 2002, Moises Sepulveda pleaded guilty to a charge of using a telephone to distribute marijuana.
He was sentenced to probation.

Sources: Michael G. Mooney, "Panel's SWAT Review Delayed; "Lockyer Commission Formed after
Shooting Death of Modesto Boy," Modesto Bee, August 13, 2001; Kimberly Edds, "Lack of Training,
Resources Blamed for Botched SWAT Team Responses," Metropolitan News Enterprise, July 19,
2001; Loie Fecteau, "Ex-Secretary of State Supports Drug Reforms," Albuqerque Journal, March 16,
2001; California Department of Justice, "Attorney General's Commission on Special Weapons and
Tactics (S.W.A.T.) Final Report," September 10, 2002.