Brian Fairbanks | Atavist Magazine | April 2024 | 1,395 words (5 minutes)
This is an excerpt from the issue. 150, “The last shall be first.”
a few weeks ago When Hurricane Katrina devastated New Orleans, Len Davis stood up to the jury. A former police officer, Davis was once a big man who exuded toughness and sometimes put himself in harm’s way on the streets. He became known as RoboCop around New Orleans’ Ninth Ward, but that wasn’t his only nickname. People also called him a greedy terrorist.
In the early 1990s, Davis gained a fearsome reputation in and around a public housing complex called Desire Development, helping drug dealers move goods and cover up violent crimes. Davis ended up in court for the murder, but the victim was not part of the drug investigation. She was a single mother and had filed a cruelty complaint against Davis. The next day, he orders her hitman to kill her.
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This murder is the most infamous of the 424 murders that took place in New Orleans in 1994, the deadliest in New Orleans history. After Davis was arrested, he became a national symbol of the depths of corruption and depravity that the New Orleans Police Department had fallen into, and was found guilty by a jury of his peers and sentenced to death. The verdict was confirmed by the appeals court, but his death penalty was revoked. In 2005, a recidivism trial was scheduled to once again decide Davis’ fate.
Davis represented them in court, gave opening arguments, and cross-examined witnesses. Davis maintains that he is innocent despite damning evidence to the contrary, including recorded phone conversations between him and his killer shortly before and after the murder, and that no witnesses testified against him. claimed that he was lying. “When this case is over, there will be legitimate doubts,” he said.
The jury was unmoved. On August 9, the commission recommended the same death penalty as the previous commission. Two months later, a judge affirmed this recommendation.
For many in New Orleans, this outrage marks the end of the Len Davis story, as the news has been lifted from the headlines by the worst disaster in New Orleans history, a disaster that sparked a shocking new wave of police brutality. Almost disappeared. But for at least the five men in prison, the story was not over. In their view, the high-profile murders in 1994 only scratched the surface of Davis’ misdeeds. If it weren’t for him, the men argued, he might never have been to prison. In a sense, they were another victim of the greedy terrorists.
No one seemed interested in their side of the story. Their appeals stalled or failed. Over time, the men came to understand that their only chance of getting out of prison was if someone recognized the wrongs done to them and took the extraordinary steps necessary to right them. So they waited. For 17 years after Davis’ outrage, they waited.
Part I
Locals often point out The most infamous cop in New Orleans history wasn’t even from Louisiana at all. Born in Chicago in 1964, Len Davis moved with his mother to the Crescent City after his father passed away suddenly. After graduating from high school, Davis drove a candy truck for several years. He also racked up a criminal record, including battery charges.
At age 22, Davis enrolled in the NOPD’s training academy. Amid the crack epidemic and the flight of whites from urban areas, the department was desperate for new recruits. Employment standards have been relaxed, allowing some people with criminal records to attend academies, making it easier to complete training. “They created a situation where you could graduate even if you didn’t pass your final exam,” Felix Loicano, a former NOPD deputy chief of detectives, said in an interview.
Davis was out of the academy long before he was given the big role due to unexplained troubles. However, after he got a job guarding the academy grounds, he was allowed to readmit. He graduated in his 1988 year.
At the time, the NOPD was plagued by fraud and corruption. Lawmakers vying for the department’s top jobs had a loyal faction dedicated to protecting their jobs. “This corresponds to four members of a mafia crime family running the police station,” a city official said. new york times. Salaries were so low that many police officers did security work on the side, as a police officer’s starting salary was less than his $20,000. Enterprising police officers known as detail brokers would even hire fellow officers to do work for their clients and collect a portion of their earnings. Moonlight jobs often paid well, but created perverse incentives. Historian Leonard Moore said, “Loyalty is to this shady after-hours facility that you’re guarding, as opposed to a specific duty within the precinct.”
Meanwhile, the NOPD was known to be ruthless among city dwellers. From 1985 to 1990, the federal government received 26 civil rights complaints per 1,000 service members. This was more than 50 times that of the New York City Police Department.
After graduating from the academy, Davis landed at the NOPD’s 7th District and rose to prominence in a way. Once, after responding to the scene of a robbery, the victim wrote a letter to police praising his politeness. In another instance, Davis convinced a woman to stop shooting herself and give her the gun. For his efforts, Davis received an award but not a promotion. It is unclear whether this fact is related to the violations that were beginning to accumulate on his employment record, such as ignoring his orders and failing to complete paperwork.
In May 1989, Davis was transferred to District 5, known as Bloody Fifth. Public housing in the district, which includes Desire Development, was experiencing a spike in gang recruitment and drug use, and an increase in violence. One criminal group used a black pickup truck with the word “murder” written in gold letters to conduct their transactions.
On July 19, 1991, Davis was chasing three armed suspects when a bullet shattered the windshield of his cruiser and he lost control of the vehicle. He spun into a fence, jumped out of his car with his gun still drawn, and collared one of the suspects. The next moment, the gun went off, and Davis crouched down with a groan from the gut shot. The suspect tried to shake him off, but Davis managed to hold him down until reinforcements arrived, blood gushing from the front of his uniform.
Davis received the Medal of Honor for his injuries sustained in the line of duty and rejoined his unit after three months of recovery. His return was far from a triumph. He visited his partners one after another. He had an alcohol problem. He was charged with brutality, physical intimidation, and theft from the department. Once, when Davis was stopped for driving on the side of the road, he threatened to hit the officer who pulled him over. In 1992, he was suspended for 51 days on a battery charge after assaulting a woman with a flashlight, causing a wound to her head and black marks on her eyes. Davis said she criticized and hit him when he arrested her for drugs outside her home.
Attorney Carol A. Korinchak, who later represented Davis, would argue that as a police officer, no one would have been able to recover from her client’s ordeal without any repercussions. “It’s well documented. [the] It’s not literature, it’s published by experts who have studied law enforcement,” Kolinczak said in court. “Symptoms are common and universal: stress, irritability, aggression, depression, alcohol and drug abuse, and increased citizen complaints.”
From a certain point on, Davis’ behavior became sinister. His cousins Little June and Charles Boutin were dealing drugs in New Orleans, and they began funneling cash to Davis, who accompanied them on shipments of product. He came to these jobs armed and wearing a NOPD uniform. “I don’t think the police are good anymore,” Davis once told his girlfriend. “They lost me a long time ago. I’m going to dedicate myself to this bitch to get what I can get and use my job for my own gain.”
Davis was not the only New Orleans officer to cross the line between law enforcement and violation. For example, the NOPD’s vice squad was on the verge of disbanding due to theft and crackdowns. The deputy in charge would ultimately be sentenced for snatching cash from cash registers during raids on strip stores and bars in the French Quarter. Perhaps it was only a matter of time before Davis found his co-conspirator, another corrupt cop, as a partner in crime.
