Victim of Abuse by Deputies Reaches Out

From his days in charge of discipline as vice principal of a Philadelphia Catholic school to his time as a Navy chaplain in Vietnam, Jim Butler had the greatest respect for authority.

But all of Butler’s resolve was broken in January, 1985, when he walked to the scene of an accident outside his Vista home and ended up in a rubber-padded jail cell.

He recalls every detail with disturbing clarity: the accusation that he struck a sheriff’s deputy; the harsh tug of his arm behind his back; his spread-eagle stance against a prison cell; his legs kicked out from under him, causing him to fall down and break his nose.

In the months--and the numerous newspaper stories--that followed, Butler was so swamped with phone calls from people claiming abuse by police officers and sheriff’s deputies that he could hardly keep track.

“These people just want some place to go or someone to listen to,” he said. “They want to get the shock, frustration and embarrassment off their chests.”

Because he knew of no other support group for those abused by law enforcement officials, Butler is starting an organization he is calling VALOR, or Victims Against Law Officer Repression. He said he is setting up an office and telephone number where people can call to report their run-ins with the law.

Although other organizations--such as police review boards--have been formed throughout the country to take brutality complaints, no other such group has been assembled to help deal with the emotional side of law enforcement abuse.

Hundreds of victims’ assistance groups exist throughout the country, but civil rights attorneys say that Butler’s support organization for those claiming police brutality may well be the nation’s first.

“There’s just nothing like this in the country that I know of,” said Mike Crowley, an attorney who handles cases for the American Civil Liberties Union in San Diego County. “These people who get abused are afraid to tell anyone what happened. I don’t care which side you’re on when it comes to law enforcement. Some of these victims have a real problem and need help.”

Part of the financing to get the organization running will eventually come from the $1.1 million Butler won from a San Diego Superior Court jury last July following his lawsuit against the Sheriff’s Department. The case is on appeal, however, and Butler believes it will be years before he sees any of the money.

Until then, Butler plans to use his own money to pay for VALOR’s start-up costs.

Among the ways Butler says VALOR can help: to recommend legal assistance, to answer questions about filing complaints, to recommend psychiatric help when necessary, and to have a meeting place where victims can gather and speak about mutual experiences.

While those victimized in any crime feel frustrated and helpless, those like Butler, who claim police abuse, say there is even a greater sense of resentment and betrayal.

“We’re trained our whole lives to trust cops,” Butler said. “But when the people you put your trust in commit assault and battery or file false reports or commit perjury, it’s a tremendous shock.”

The creation of VALOR as a support group doesn’t bother Michael Cea, vice president of the Deputy Sheriff’s Assn., which represents nearly all of the department’s 1,349 deputies.

“I’m all for support groups,” he said. “If they need to band together, I feel sorry for them. I’m sure there are cases of excessive force where officers should be dealt with. But there are a lot of officers being second-guessed by people who have no understanding of the situation.”

Butler disagrees. Now 61, Butler said he spends hours on the telephone seven days a week with people seeking help.

People like Floyd Craig, an electrical contractor working at the County Jail in Vista who said he was assaulted three years ago by sheriff’s deputies, strip-searched and forced to stand naked in a padded cell because he wouldn’t move his work tools. Craig recently has settled a lawsuit with the county for $15,000.

Or Kimberlee Bryant, 33, a science teacher who was strip-searched and left naked in a rubber-walled “safety cell” in 1987 after female sheriff’s deputies grabbed her hair and forced her head to the floor. Bryant had been arrested on drunken driving charges. Last September, a jury awarded her $332,000 in damages.

Or Judy Hejduk, 43, an airline stewardess from Encinitas, who said she was was chained naked and beaten after being arrested on suspicion of drunken driving in 1985. Hejduk said her attorney allowed the statute of limitations to expire on her ability to file a lawsuit over the matter.

Hejduk, Bryant, Craig and others will form the nucleus of VALOR, Butler said, and will help to counsel others from their experiences.

Once the office opens, Butler said he will collect names of victims and develop a source list of legal and counseling experts.

Eventually, he said, the group will move into the political arena and try to get legislation approved that will allow police disciplinary actions and complaints against officers to be made public. Police personnel information is not a matter of public record.

“The public always has a right to know what police do when they are on duty,” Butler said. “Once they are home, or off-duty, nobody needs to know what they do.”

Without a known support group, those who believe they have been abused often are reduced to calling the names of victims they read in newspaper accounts.

Bryant said she got about 80 telephone calls during the year her story surfaced.

“At the time it happened, I couldn’t believe I was the only one,” she said. “I had never been arrested. I was afraid. When it happened, I was so outraged. Then I got all these calls from people who said they went through the same thing. It was nice not to be alone.”

The support group will help others deal with the same emotions Bryant said she felt, starting with humiliation and self-blame and ending with anger and vengeance.

Along the way, victims are continually told not to buck the police and warned they cannot win. Some, like Bryant, have been through a series of attorneys before settling on one who will stick with the case to its conclusion. And long before a possible jury verdict comes due, there are attorneys fees and court costs to be laid out.

“I want to be able to tell people about the time it takes for this all to be resolved,” Butler said. “You’ve got to be able to hunker down for at least two years in the courts.” Dr. Dennis Pavlinac, who treated Butler for depression after his brush with sheriff’s deputies, said Butler’s group may be dealing with a unique problem that is not specifically covered by any experts in group psychotherapy.

“This area hasn’t really been studied with any sort of perspective,” he said. “You’re dealing with a police officer who is supposed to protect you, but doing the flip side of that. It’s one thing to be beat up or burglarized by a sociopath, but its a shocker when it’s supposed to be your protector.”

Bryant said it took a long time for the shock to wear off.

“Initially, you feel this humiliation,” she said. “You wonder, is this America and how can this happen here? I didn’t feel the anger for quite some time because I was so emotionally wiped out. I felt like I imagine one would feel in a rape situation. How could I get myself in this predicament? I thought I was going to get killed that night. Killed by the police.”

San Diego County Sheriff Jim Roache, elected in November after John Duffy’s 20-year reign as sheriff, said he supports Butler’s efforts, even if the group takes his deputies or department to task.

“Mr. Butler is a well-intentioned individual who is trying to do the right thing,” Roache said. “You can hardly be critical of someone who wants government and its representatives to do a credible job.”

During his campaign for sheriff, Roache stressed the need for deputies to be less confrontational and to realize they were hired to serve the public. He was supportive of a citizens’ review board to monitor the possibility of deputy misconduct.

A review board created by voters in 1988 to examine San Diego Police Department’s discipline cases recently came to a similar conclusion and stressed better training techniques for police officers.

Once Butler’s group gets going, it may begin to tackle various legal issues against police agencies, like helping to pry open officers’ confidential personnel files.

“To my way of thinking, there is a real need for some group to exert political pressure on municipalities to get law enforcement agencies to do a better job, because the agencies themselves are not doing a good job,” said Tom Adler, an attorney who represents abuse victims.

State law needs to be altered, he said, to allow the public greater access to the files of police officers.

Cea, of the deputy sheriff’s association, said the group will get a fight if it goes that far.

The deputy sheriff’s group already is fighting the county’s civilian review board on the grounds that county officials never conferred with sheriff’s deputies over a matter the group says is bound to affect employment.

“A lot of people are capitalizing on the momentum of these civil suits against the Sheriff’s Department,” Cea said. “If they want to have a support group, more power to them. If they want to plot legal strategy, they’re just not qualified.”