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Was called on the carpet for this part of yesterday’s Nobody has the power to ruin your day, unless maybe you live in Key West or elsewhere in the Florida Keys? post at www.goodmorningkeywest.com:
“See the article in the Key West Citizen today about the Charles Eimers case. No mention in the article of the video showing Eimers following the cops orders to surrender to a T by lying face down on the sand as several cops with drawn guns approached him, surrounded him, knelt down beside and held him, as his legs started kicking and the video ended. Hell, here’s the article.”
In fact, there was mention in the article of the video, mention by the Eimers family attorney David Paul Horan. I meant by what I wrote, there was no mention of the video by the Key West Citizen. All of which led to what I posted yesterday afternoon in the comment section below this article in the current edition of www.thebluepaper.com:
FEBRUARY 15, 2014 AT 5:20 PM
Someone who works in the Key West Citizen told me this morning that he heard US 1 Radio’s Bill Becker say yesterday on this show that KW cops had wrestled Charles Eimers to the ground. I said if Becker said that, then he had not seen the video in the blue paper’s first article of KW cops with guns drawn apprehending Eimers at South Beach. Before the cops got very close to him with guns drawn, Eimers went down on the sand, face down, and they approached him and surrounded him and put their hands on him and started to cuff him and his legs started squirming and the video ended. I said I could not believe Becker has not seen that video. The person said the Publisher and Editor of the Citizen had said they did not know what was in the video. I said I simply did not believe that they had not see it. It looked to me like massive cover up to me, across the board.
I called Naja [Girard, Co-Publisher of KEY WEST THE NEWSPAPER] and told her what I’d heard. She said she had not heard Becker say that. She said the Citizen, after its first article on the Eimers case, which did not mention the video, started mentioning the video in its articles, but never published a link to it. I said, right, to publish a link would take Citizen readers to the blue paper. To publish a link would terrify the powers that be down here, which depend so heavily on tourism. Can’t have that! I said, whenever the angels get me involved in something for very long, it’s because there is something really bad going on. Naja said perhaps Paul Horan getting the Eimers case will get the national media interested in the case, if a lawsuit is filed. I said that indeed might get the national media interested. I called the other person back and reported what Naja had told me. I said the Citizen needs to publish the link to the video, so its online readers, at least, can see the video, if they wish.
Later today, Naja called me back and left a voicemail saying she had listened to Becker yesterday and he had said the cops had wrestled Eimers to the ground. I called the other person back and reported what Naja had told me the second time. The other person said Becker had said it a couple of times. I said again, there is no way Becker could have reported the cops had wrestled Eimers to the ground, if Becker had seen the video, and either Becker had not seen the video, which would be incomprehensible, or he intentionally misreported what happened, which also would be incomprehensible because the video shows Eimers putting himself on the ground before the cops reached him. Perhaps Becker was having a bad hair day, or was reading propaganda put out by the KWPD version of Pravda.
Whatever, this case flunks the smell test a bunch of times. I can’t wait to see/read what the KW cops’ lawyer actually lets them say. Although it was drilled into me in law school that a criminal defendant had every right to plead the 5th Amendment and not testify or otherwise be forced to incriminate him/herself, I never did feel pleading the 5th was a sign of virtue. I felt it the 5th Amendment was enacted to prevent a criminal suspect of being tortured to force a confession, like what used to happen frequently in England and Europe, among other law-abiding places, before white people “discovered” America. However, that’s not how the 5th Amendment turned out being applied.
I wonder how many of these fine KW police officers are Christians. I wonder if they recall Jesus preaching somewhere in the Gospels, not to take oaths, but to simply say yes when you mean yes, and no when you mean no; anything else comes from evil. Maybe the Eimers case might end up making Rasputin an amateur.
Naja said yesterday that I blame angels for everything I write. I did not have the presence of mind to retort that the angels gave her the Charles Eimers case by having the video shot and delivered to her, and by preventing Eimers’ corpse from being cremated, and but for angels, the KWPD would have gotten clean away with it. I told Naja that she and her hubby Arnaud are doing a good job with the Eimers case, and to keep at it.
Must have been something in the wind.
Last night, I had dinner at Jack Flats, a popular sports bar on Duval Street in Key West. From there I pedaled my bicycle around the corner and a block and a half down Fleming Street, past the doorway in which I once slept at night, to Faustos Food Palace, which is owned by the Weekley family. Jimmy Weekley works for Faustos, runs it, I think. He also is a city commissioner. Before that, he was mayor, and before that, he was a city commissioner. I bought some beets, bread and kiefer.
Then, I pedaled my bicycle to the end of Fleming Street and turned left on White Street and pedaled down to Eaton Street/Palm Ave, where the street changes names at the entrance to Porter Place, run by the Housing Authority. I wanted to see if my friend Patrick McEvoy was home, and up, and perhaps get into a game of chess with him, as well as conversation. He lives in the back of the project, next to the fence which separates the project from the road in the Navy base. Patrick’s lights were off, so I kept going around his end apartment on the sidewalk through the interior of the project this time, headed back toward Palm Avenue, near where it becomes Eaton Street, intending to take White Street all the way to Higgs Beach, to see what might be going on there among the vicious van dweller criminals who hang out there.
Reaching the sidewalk on Palm Avenue, I turned right intending to pedal the short distance down to the stop light where White Street intersects. Walking toward me were two men, who stopped me. One had a police badge hanging around his neck. They said they were police officers, and what I was doing in Porter Place? I told them I had gone in there to see if a friend was home and up, so we could play chess. I told them Patrick’s name. The officer with the badge hanging around his neck asked where I live? I told him my street address. He asked to see my ID. I said I didn’t think they were entitled to see my ID, because I had done nothing to cause them to have reason to see my ID.
I said I was a lawyer.
I said I published a newspaper online and I would write this “incident” up for today. I asked the officer with the badge around his neck for his name and badge number. He said he would give me his “business card”. I said I didn’t imagine Police Chief Lee and City Manager Bob Vitas and Mayor Craig Cates and the city commissioners would care for their style of accosting me.
I said, for all I knew, they were going to take me down, and soon I would be dead like what happened to Charles Eimers on South Beach on Thanksgiving Day. The two officers said they didn’t know anyone named Charles Eimers. I said I found that hard to believe. He was accosted by 14 KWPD officers after being suspected of being homeless, living in his van, which he was not. And shortly thereafter he was dead. The two officers said they had heard about that, but they were not involved.
They said I was trespassing. I asked how was I trespassing? I had a standing invitation to visit Patrick, this was public property. They said it was Housing Authority property, it was nighttime. I said, still it was public property. Show me a no trespassing sign. Ooops. They showed me a no-trespassing sign on a concrete post at the White Street entrance. I had pedaled my bicycle past that sign yesterday morning, hoping to find Patrick home and up. He was not up. I had pedaled my bicycle past that sign maybe a hundred times.
I said, still, I had an invitation from someone who lives there to drop by anytime. They said it was nighttime, a public housing project. I was trespassing.
I pulled out my wallet, opened it to my driver’s license, and handed the wallet to the officer with the badge hanging around his neck. He extracted the license and called it in. It came back a valid Monroe County, Florida license. Nothing else came back. He gave me the license and wallet back.
The officers said they were on a special detail, drugs. They were in Porter place looking for drug dealing; a lot of drug activity happened there. They were covering several Housing Authority projects last night.
They said they had seen me pedal in there and come back out two minutes later, it looked suspicious. I said I could see how that looked suspicious, and I wished they had explained that way to begin with. I said I was glad they were out there, looking for drugs. I told them I was fine with them searching me, go ahead. They said they did not want to search me.
They asked if I knew about the recent Stock Island drug bust? I said I had read of it in the Citizen; they were in on that? Yes. I said that was a lot of cocaine. They said yes. Keep up the good work, I said. The officer with the badge hanging from his neck gave me his card:
Key West Police Department. Detective Brian Leahy. Special Investigation unit. KWPD. Phone and FAX numbers included.
By now we seemed to be getting friendly.
I said I’d run for mayor of this town three times. All the city officials knew me, often didn’t care what I wrote about them. The officers laughed.
I asked if they were like city DEA? Yes, sort of like that. Brian said he was on a city-county-state (and maybe federal) drug task force, he sometimes works up the Keys and in Miami. I said I was glad to have them around, and I figured other people were, too. I said I hoped they caught a few drug dealers in Porter Place after we were done talking.
I said Dennis Cooper, who used to own and publish Key West the Newspaper, hates me. Hates me, they asked? Yes, but that was another story.
I asked if they had been on the Force when Buz Dillon was police chief? They said no. I said Buz had been a good friend of mine. The officers said they had heard from a few officers that Bus had been a cops cop. I said that was true. I said I wanted to tell them a story about Buz and Dennis Cooper, which they might enjoy hearing. They said okay. I said Buz told me the story at a restaurant on the Atlantic, maybe the restaurant run by the Miami football coach Don Shula.
I said a time came when Buz got fed up with the way the Citizen and the Keynoter covered cop shop news, so he stopped talking with those two newpapers and started feeding all cop shop news to Dennis Cooper. Dennis and Buz were buddies, they were in conspiracy whereby Buz helped Dennis scoop the Citizen and the Keynoter, but Buz didn’t say conspiracy when he told me the story. Buz said a situation came up in the KWPD, which resulted in an Internal Affairs investigation, and somehow Dennis found out about it and wrote an article about it. Buz said the article injured the IA investigation, he was pissed off and had Dennis arrested and jailed. Buz said he blew his cool and fucked up, but that’s how he felt at the time – Dennis had betrayed him. I said, of course, that is what got Buz fired later. I told the two officers, perhaps they would like to share that story with their police buddies.
I told the two officers there is an article in the current edition of the blue paper, by Dennis Cooper, to which I had commented, and then I had asked Dennis when he was going to write about the time he ran his car into a tree and then managed to drive it home and get out of it before the cops arrived and, not having seen him driving, could not charge him with D.U.I.? The two drug enforcement officers laughed.
I said it might go smoother when they accost people on their drug beat, to say who they are, drug enforcement, and what they are doing there. I said I figured lots of people will appreciate that approach and be glad to know they are out there. They thanked me for the suggestion. They said guilty people behave guilty. I said I imagined they did. They said guilty people try to get away. I yes, and I bet they have other ways of letting you know they are guilty. They agreed.
I said when Patrick McEvoy was 18 years old, he was put into prison because he would not fight in Vietnam. The officers perked up. I said Patrick then was close to a world class chess player. Although being put into prison really screwed up him up, he still is a very good chess player. I beat him about once a year, when he falls asleep from boredom playing me.
Officer Leahy said he likes to play chess, but is not close to Patrick’s level. I said I will tell Patrick about him, and he should drop by when Patrick is home and say Sloan sent him. I told them which is Patrick’s apartment, on the end of one of the back buildings, has a handicap ramp. They said they know which apartment it is.
I said back in the 60s and 70s, a lot of people made a lot of money in drugs in the Keys and Key West, and some of them today are fine upstanding important citizens down here. Two officers nodded agreement. I said back in the day, as I heard from flats guides friends, some flats guides got into the drug business and would run out to the mother ship at night, through the shallow water and channels they knew so well, and bring back in a load of drugs. The drug cops could not catch them, because only flats guides knew the water well enough to run at high speeds at night. Finally, the drug enforcers hired flats guides to catch flats guides running drugs. The two drug cops seemed interested to hear that.
Here’s the link to Dennis Cooper’s article in the current edition of the blue paper, my comment is just below the article.
JOURNALISM AS A CONTACT SPORT
Might be the angels have a little more up their sleeves about all of that above. They certainly arranged those adventures for me yesterday …
When I turned in last night, after having worked maybe three hours putting the above together for today’s article, I was feeling pretty good about it.
However, my dream police didn’t feel at all good about how I had reported what went down after I left Jack Flats. Seemed they wanted me to go into the real drug problem in Key West and the Keys, which dwarfs the drug problem that caused the two drug cops to accost me last night.
The booze drug, the narcotic of choice of so many Key West and Keys people.
Patrick’s narcotic of choice. That’s why he’s not up a lot of the time when I go by to see him. I wonder each time I see him if that is the last time I will see him alive.
Dennis Cooper’s narcotic of choice, based on what all I have read in the Citizen and have heard from people who know Dennis.
I think booze might have been Buz Dillon’s narcotic of choice, although I never saw him imbibe.
Booze was my father’s narcotic of choice, and that had a great deal to do with the many difficulties in his and my relationship; he made decisions about me under the influence, he made decisions about many things under the influence.
Deep down, my father was really wounded in his soul. As was my mother, who, like my father, drank from getting up in the morning until turning in at night.
One of my daughters is deeply wounded in her soul, mostly because I was not there for her when she was young. Not because of booze, I was not an addict; but because I was afflicted with self-absorption. But for AA, she might not be alive today.
I never knew an addict who was not deeply soul-wounded.
Denial is a big factor in addiction, as any AA, NA or ALANON old-timer will tell you. The way the KWPD cops are behaving in the Charles Eimers case smacks of denial and addiction.
Jack Flats is but one of dozens of legal narcotics dispensaries on Duval Street. There are many more elsewhere in Key West, which is said to have more bars per resident than any other city in the world. And more churches per resident.
My mother buried herself in her church, and continued her habit. My father attended church every Sunday, and continued his habit. I know lots of addicts in Key West who, because their narcotic is legal, are not hunted by drug task force officers.
Imagine what Key West’s economy would be like if booze were treated like cocaine, heroin, meth, ecstasy, or even marijuana. Key West’s economy would sink down to Davy Jones’ Locker. The Keys economy would do the same.
Long live demon rum!!! It survived Prohibition, it will survive anything law makers and law enforcement officers throw at it; as will the other narcotics.
Key West’s economic engine. Key West’s main industry.
A little Facebook comic relief, which provides some insight into how I and other law students at the University of Alabama School of Law got more acquainted with narcotics and law enforcement.
The angels made me stop drinking. They told me I had diabetes. They created an allergy in me, so that after drinking booze I soon felt like I was bad sick in my liver and intestines. Soon, like in a couple of hours. It made drinking no fun. The physical payback was awful. The angel payback was a lot worse, which is another story.
Imagine how Key West and the Florida Keys would be if the angels did to paradise’s booze addicts what they did to me?
Would a little spoonful of sugar help that medicine go down? I sort of doubt it. I sort of imagine there would be a great wailing and gnashing of teeth.
I did not wail and gnash. I had quit drinking many times with no problem because I never was a heavy drinker, it had never messed up my life. I simply liked beer and wine. I wish I could still enjoy them, but it simply ain’t worth it.
Neither is marijuana, it gives me a migraine the next day. The other narcotics never interested me.
Perhaps I have my parents to thank, perhaps they instilled in me an aversion to being a narcotics addict. That, and whenever I sometimes did tie one on, like at the Alabama homecoming, the horrible next day hangover made me wish I was dead.
As did having a beautiful healthy infant son die in his sleep at the beginning of my last semester in law school. That seriously screwed me up, and his mother, too.