Chicago teen's death shines light on police code of silence

CHICAGO -- For more than a year after an officer shot and killed a black teen named Laquan McDonald, the Chicago Police Department had video footage that raised serious doubts about whether other officers at the scene tried in their reports to cover up what prosecutors now contend was murder.

Not until 15 months later were one of those officers and a detective who concluded the shooting was justified put on desk duty.

At least eight other officers failed to recount the same scene that unfolded on the video. All of them remain on the street, according to the department.

The lack of swift action illustrates the difficulty of confronting the "code of silence" long associated with police in Chicago and elsewhere.

The obstacles include disciplinary practices that prevent the police chief himself from firing problem officers and a labor contract that prevents officers from being held accountable if a video surfaces that contradicts their testimony.

"If they are not going to analyze officers' reports and compare them to objective evidence like the video, why would the officers ever stop lying?" asked Craig Futterman, a University of Chicago law professor who helped force the city to release the video.

Of the eight officers, six said they did not see who fired, and three depicted McDonald as more threatening than he appeared. One claimed the teen tried to get up with a knife still in his hand. The footage clearly showed him falling down and lying motionless on the pavement.

Van Dyke, who emptied his 16-round magazine into McDonald, is awaiting trial on first-degree murder charges. He has been suspended without pay while the department tries to fire him.

City officials said they are cracking down on traditions associated with the code and questioning applicants for police superintendent about how they would stop officers from lying to protect colleagues.

Chicago isn't the only major city where officers sworn to tell the truth are suspected of covering for each other. In Los Angeles, three sheriff's deputies were convicted last year of beating a handcuffed jail visitor and then trying to cover it up.

In that case, a plea bargain with two former deputies helped prosecutors expose what they said was a code of silence.

The head of Chicago's police union dismisses talk of a code.

"It's not 1954 anymore," Dean Angelo said. "With cameras everywhere, in squad cars, on everyone's cellphone ... officers aren't going to make a conscious effort to engage in conduct that puts their own livelihoods at risk."

But the scrutiny that followed McDonald's death reveals a system that makes it difficult to fire problem officers and reduces their punishment or delays it for months or years after their reports are exposed as lies.

The code of silence also figured into another video: footage of off-duty officer Anthony Abbate pummeling a bartender.

Officers who responded to the 911 call did not include in their reports the bartender's contention she was attacked by an officer named Tony, according to testimony in federal court.

A jury in 2012 awarded her $850,000 and concluded there was a code of silence.

Like other police departments, Chicago's police force long has insisted it doesn't tolerate dishonesty.

When allegations surface about officers lying in a report, they are stripped of their police powers and assigned to desk duty pending the outcome of an internal probe, department spokesman Anthony Guglielmi said.

If the investigation determines the officer was, in fact, dishonest, the department says it moves, without exception, to have that person fired.

Unlike New York, Baltimore and other cities, however, Chicago's police superintendent cannot dismiss an officer.

That decision belongs to the Chicago Police Board, whose nine civilian members are appointed by the mayor.

It is not unusual for the board to reject recommendations of the superintendent and the city's Independent Police Review Authority, which investigates police shootings.