Demanding justice for Sheila Detoy

Demanding justice for Sheila Detoy -- A Personal account

[It is to my regret as a writer of this piece, that I know the Police Commission hearing room better than I know Sheila Detoy, her friends or her family. However, some very committed people, when that I do know, are building with a model of praxis that Sheila's people are using to win a bit of justice inside that room. My reportage should not take away from the fact that their strength, passion and persistence are at the center of what happened last night.]

Five years ago, Sheila Detoy was shot in the head by Officer Gregory Breslin. Now, filling a fever my hand for the first time will day, I sit in the Police Commission hearing room. Their meeting will decide whether the many delays in disciplining Breslin and three other officers are reason enough for the officer, since promoted to sergeant, to go unpunished.

Police Watch knows how to turn out a crowd, and some of Sheila's stalwart friends are surrounded by enough allies to overflow the hearing room, again. Three youth groups showed up the numbers: queers of color from San Francisco and youth for social justice from East Oakland. Ying-Sun Ho the militant less saw in the streets the spring, is Ying-Sun Ho the crisp but angry lawyer tonight in a full suit, his amicus brief already filed with the commission.

On the streets before an undersized megaphone, Van Jones of the Ella Baker Center recounted the history of the case, never failing to place it in terms of the fabric of human beings that surrounded Sheila, and the record of brutality that meant the SFPD should have known better than to put Breslin on the streets the night she died. A lone male and exiting the court house yelled back that Van should know the the entire system is corrupt. Believe me, he does. I have seen him question why -- when nine in ten reports of police brutality to the police watch hotline will never see justice -- why don't people just come to the office and burn it down.

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The hearing begins. All rise for the commission members; some of us sit out the pledge of allegiance. A childhood friend of Sheila now works at Bay Area Police Watch. She leads that the mike, marking the custom of calling for a moment of silence for those unjustly killed. Two officers and one commissioner join the audience in standing. The rest in uniform and the other three commissioners remain seated. Then she begins to speak about the young woman she knew and lost. How confident she was that had the bullet penetrated her skull, Sheila would be the one speaking for her tonight. Alongside her, Sheila's cousin is silent, only offering a photo, enlarged for all to see, as witness.

Ying-Sun lays out the law: a pack of exceptions to this time limit, all of which are met by this case. Malaika Parker speaks to accountability, and human impact of commission decisions. Van recounts the commission's failures, for eight years, to ever hold a single police killer accountable.

Voices add on voices, articulating principles, remembering Sheila, spanning a range of ethical perspectives, demanding or begging, but forming a clear shared voice crying out for justice now. Julia Butterfly explains, quietly, when failures of justice like those of the commission mean that she cannot pledge allegiance with pride anymore.

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During the intermission, the police begin to have their say, not for us but directly to the media. The gallery becomes a rally in response, chants filling the room, louder -- now that it matters -- than anything outside.

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The hearing is called, in the audience falls silent under threat of expulsion. A conflict of interest (between commissioner Chan and one of the police lawyers) is cleared on the basis of mutual consent. The commission chair announces that shot Ying-Sun's brief will be treated as public comment -- outside of the formal hearing. Again, no lawyer objects.

The cops first lawyer rises and first demands that are voices be ignored. Then, she lays out her case. The gist: you move to slow, my client gets off. Her tone is almost unbelievably indignant: she speaks of “an unacceptable and inexcusable delay” with the inflection most of us have the dignity to reserve for things like unnecessary death.

Breslin's lawyer has a separate objection: his client has been vilified for too long. He explains these are two separate problems: vilification and time. He claims “It doesn't make any difference” who took too long, even if Police Department delays were responsible.

The third lawyer spends most of his time attacking public comment, which is “not right, shouldn't happen, and is something that has gone on for a long time.” He simultaneously invokes the political influence of the police (“The rank-and-file are going to be looking at this case.”) will demanding that the police commission not “succumb to the will of the politics of the community." He speaks derisively of the Office of Citizen Complaints: “They didn't do anything, and now they want you to save” them “in front of” -- his contempt as icy as he pauses -- “the community.”

When it is the turn of the Office of Citizen Complaints to speak, she begins by clarifying. Tonight's meeting after all is to decide whether the officers will be put before the Police Commission: whether the case will be heard or not. She confesses, "This case should have been handled better: more efficiently and more expeditiously." However, while we all may demand a higher standard in the future, "section 3304(d) of the code does not."

Citing the same four exceptions as Ying-Sun, she argues the OCC was in compliance with the law. More dramatically, based on the authorized exceptions, she shows that notice of disciplinary hearings was given to the officers within one year of the clock running on the OCC, by March 2001. That notice, which urged the case be brought before the Police Commission for final discipline, "satisfies the letter and the intent of the law."

After a round of the rebuttals, the commissioners retires to deliberate. On his way out Commissioner Chan gives a thumbs-up to someone--I can't identify who.

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After being late to my own birthday dinner, I call my friend Vanessa who had been at the hearing. The vote was unanimous--the motion to dismiss was rejected and the case will be heard before the commission. It was a modest victory, and still not the firing of Sheila's killer. But a forward opportunity. And something that Vanessa reminded me over the phone, will take of lot of help in the next few months.