The supervisor faced conspiracy, official misconduct, and obstruction allegations.
The retired officer faced unlawful access and conspiracy-related counts.
The deputy chief faced charges tied to confidential information disclosure and obstruction.
Not everyone was convicted of everything.
The officer’s trial came first.
I testified.
The courtroom was smaller than I expected.
No dramatic television lighting.
Just wood.
Fluorescent ceiling panels.
Jurors trying not to stare.
The officer looked different in a suit.
Younger.
Less physically imposing.
I disliked noticing that.
It complicated anger.
The prosecutor played the neighbor’s video.
There I was.
Sitting.
Newspaper.
Gun.
Commands.
The kick.
Coffee spilling.
The shove.
Then my question:
“Officer, is your body camera recording?”
His answer:
“Turn around.”
Then:
“Stop talking about the camera.”
The prosecutor paused.
“When did you first notice the camera was inactive?”
“Before I stood.”
“What did that mean to you?”
“That independent documentation might be missing.”
“Why was that significant?”
“Because I knew his disciplinary review included multiple incidents with missing or delayed footage.”
The defense objected.
The judge instructed jurors to consider the statement only for my state of mind, not as proof he had committed prior misconduct.
Exactly right.
The prosecutor asked:
“When did you recognize him?”
“After looking at his nameplate and face more carefully.”
“Did you tell him you were reviewing his file?”
“Not immediately.”
“Why?”
“I did not know why he was there.”
“Were you afraid?”
“Yes.”
That answer surprised the courtroom more than I expected.
The prosecutor paused.
“You appeared calm.”
“I was not.”
“What were you thinking?”
“That any movement I made could be interpreted as threatening.”
The prosecutor sat.
The defense attorney stood.
He was excellent.
Calm.
Respectful.
He did not turn me into an enemy.
“Sir, you have professional experience evaluating police complaints.”
“Yes.”
“You understand officers sometimes receive inaccurate dispatch information.”
“Yes.”
“You understand a person may appear nonthreatening to a camera while an officer perceives something differently.”
“Yes.”
“You understand hindsight can distort judgment.”
“Yes.”
“Then you agree that the fact you were innocent does not necessarily prove the officer knew you were innocent.”
“Correct.”
Several people in the gallery shifted.
The defense continued.
“And you did not know what dispatch information he received.”
“Not at the time.”
“You later learned a supervisor added a possible burglary connection.”
“Yes.”
“So when the officer arrived, he had information suggesting caution.”
“Yes.”
The defense attorney nodded.
Good point.
Then:
“You refused to stand immediately.”
“I asked why.”
“But you did not immediately comply.”
“Correct.”
“You questioned his authority repeatedly.”
“I asked the reason for detention.”
“You told him to activate his camera.”
“Yes.”
“You called him by name.”
“Yes.”
“Could those actions reasonably make an officer believe you were challenging control of the scene?”