Pubdate: Fri, 9 April 1999
Source: Chicago Tribune (IL)
Copyright: 1999 Chicago Tribune Company
Contact:  http://www.chicagotribune.com/
Forum: http://www.chicagotribune.com/interact/boards/
Author: Todd Lighty

INDICTED COP'S CONTROVERSIAL PAST

Among the 100 or so officers who make up the Chicago Police Department's
elite gang crimes unit, few were considered as accomplished as Joe
Miedzianowski.

Miedzianowski and his longtime partner were among the top gang crimes
specialists in number of arrests made and guns confiscated. Colleagues
marveled at the array of confidential informants Miedzianowski had developed
in his 16 years in the gang crimes unit. His steel-trap mind stored a family
tree of gang members, with street names like Cuba, Baby and Rick Dog.

Miedzianowski's friends described him as a confident, street-wise cop while
others saw him as cocky and arrogant.

Because of his knowledge of gangs, particularly some of the violent Latino
street gangs in the city's West Town community, and because of his roster of
valuable informants, Miedzianowski was in demand by federal agents who
wanted to work with him on the types of cases that would make their bosses
in Washington, D.C. take notice.

But, eventually, federal agents came looking for Miedzianowski for another
reason: Miedzianowski, according to an FBI investigation, had used his
street contacts and his intricate knowledge of the gang underworld to sell
drugs and extort money from other dealers.

A federal grand jury on Thursday indicted him and 11 individuals described
as gang members and drug dealers, accusing them of distributing more than
220 pounds of powder and crack cocaine from 1995 through 1998 in Chicago.

Miedzianowski, according to the FBI, had offered protection beginning in
1995 to a Miami-to-Chicago drug ring for as much as $12,000 a month but
within a year took over its local operations -- a brazen maneuver that
startled law enforcement veterans.

According to the indictment, Miedzianowski worked with four different street
gangs and provided security to the drug ring by identifying undercover cops,
describing undercover police vehicles and revealing the names of
confidential informants working with law enforcement.

The indictment further alleged that Miedzianowski supplied the ring with
guns and ammunition and mediated potentially violent disputes over drug
prices and drug debts.

Miedzianowski's lawyer, Phillip A. Turner, said the FBI, despite having
Miedzianowski under a surveillance microscope for months, never saw him do
anything wrong and was investigating old charges in an attempt to get the
scalp of a Chicago cop.

"He is a 22-year veteran of the police department. . .with a completely
clean record," Turner said. "I think the FBI has started with a conclusion
that Joseph Miedzianowski is a completely corrupt police officer and they
are running around looking for anything to support that. He is innocent.

"You know what? It's going to be a very interesting trial."

Miedzianowski, who has been held at the federal Metropolitan Correctional
Center since he was arrested in December and charged in a criminal
complaint, did not respond to a message seeking comment.

Even before his indictment, an expanding stack of internal police files and
court documents portrayed him as an aggressive cop who worked on the edge of
the law. These records detail a long pattern of alleged misconduct and
brutality; of settlements by the city totaling more than $100,000 paid out
to those who contend he harassed and abused them; and of internal
investigations that consistently cleared Miedzianowski.

Miedzianowski, according to internal police records and court documents, has
for years defended himself against those charges and others: that he burst
into homes without search warrants, that he stole money and drugs and that
he illegally planted guns on suspects.

These are some of the most difficult charges for a police department to sort
through. Not only do they require officers to investigate colleagues, but
corroboration often rests on the word of less-than-reliable sources -- the
gang members, drug dealers and ex-cons who complain about police conduct.

Still, while some big-city police departments across the nation have become
more aggressive in their efforts to weed out crooked cops, critics have
charged that Chicago police resist reform, relying instead on a disciplinary
system they say can protect bad officers.

As the federal government continues its investigation, lawyers familiar with
both sides of the case against Miedzianowski say that investigators are
taking a fresh look at previously discounted allegations including whether
other cops were involved in stealing on police raids, selling drugs and
undermining investigations.

Miedzianowski, who grew up in Evanston and was a wrestler in high school,
decided he wanted to be a Chicago cop after studying business at a community
college and at Northern Illinois University. He was 23.

At nearly 6 feet tall and a trim 180 pounds with blond, wavy hair,
Miedzianowski fit the profile of the tough, aggressive street cop.

He had not been a great student growing up in Evanston and in college, but
in person and on the street he had the type of intelligence that stood out.

"Joe's a really, really smart guy who throws out those 40-letter words and I
once asked him why he wanted to be a cop," said Joseph Scapin,
Miedzianowski's friend and the owner of a tattoo parlor searched by FBI and
IRS agents as part of their case.

"He told me that after he was done with college that everybody was getting
back from Vietnam and there weren't a lot of jobs so he took the police job
as a holdover until something else came along."

As a freshly minted patrolman in 1976, Miedzianowski policed the streets in
districts on the North Side. After three years on the job, he became
partners with John Galligan, a tough-talking Vietnam veteran.

Miedzianowski was sued for the first time in 1979: He allegedly beat up a
truck driver making a delivery on a narrow city street. The driver alleged
that Miedzianowski, angered because the truck was blocking his car, pulled
him from the truck and shouted, "I ought to kill you and throw you into the
back of the box and dump you in the river."

The city settled the case for about $2,700, according to court records, but
allegations of Miedzianowski's misconduct eventually got costlier and nearly
cost him his job.

Galligan and Miedzianowski transferred in 1982 to the gang crimes unit,
where they remained partners. Once asked why he moved from street patrolman
to the gangs unit, Miedzianowski, according to a deposition he gave in a
federal court case, dryly said: "Change. Just for change. Interesting
change."

The Gang Investigation Section, part of the department's Organized Crime
Division, gathers intelligence in an effort to control gangs and reduce gang
violence. Officers, who in effect hold the rank of detective, often team up
with an alphabet soup of federal agencies, such as the FBI and DEA, to
target gangs.

Miedzianowski, who worked in plain clothes, was adept at developing
"tricks," a street term for informants. These informants provided him with
invaluable, yet closely guarded, information on gang activity: Who belonged
to which gangs, who the leaders were, where gangs hid their drugs and guns.

But as an officer in gang crimes, Miedzianowski again had to confront
allegations of brutality. The city paid out $50,000 after Luis Roman sued
Miedzianowski, Galligan, their supervisor, Sgt. Edmond Stack, and other
officers. Roman, according to court files, alleged that around Christmas in
1993 police burst into his home, grabbed him, dragged him out of his
apartment and used him as a human shield in search of a nearby murder
suspect.

In 1984, Miedzianowski was accused of roughing up a Humboldt Park minister,
Rev. Jorge Morales, who was a political ally of then Mayor Harold
Washington. The department combined that case, according to Police Board
records, with an incident from a year earlier in which a North Side man
claimed Miedzianowski and Galligan stormed into his apartment without a
warrant and beat him up.

" 'Give me your gun or I'll shoot you,' " Andri Khoshaba recalled
Miedzianowski commanding. "They broke my teeth. They broke my jaw. They
searched all over my house and find nothing," he said in a recent interview.

When the officers realized they had the wrong apartment, they left, said
Khoshaba, who sued the city and settled for nearly $50,000.

Miedzianowski and Galligan were suspended but the Police Board dismissed the
charges and ordered them back on the job. The partners later sued the city
and others, charging that the investigation was politically motivated and
that they were innocent. The city settled the case, paying the officers
$85,000.

Neither Galligan nor his lawyer would comment.

One year after coming back to the department, Miedzianowski and Galligan
received promotions. Still assigned to gang crimes, they now achieved the
rank of gang specialists.

But controversy was never far away.

For years the Police Department has been forced to fend off allegations from
some citizens, community organizations and watchdog groups that it's lax in
investigating corruption among its own officers.

Chicago police, for instance, when investigating a fresh complaint of
misconduct, look at that complaint almost in a vacuum. Past unproven
allegations -- though they may be similar -- are not considered. An
officer's personnel history comes into play only when charges are
substantiated -- something that rarely occurs, according to department
records -- and then only in determining punishment.

That system, defense attorneys charge, allows supervisors to miss patterns
of behavior and overlook so-called "repeaters," officers who often are
accused of similar misconduct but never proved guilty.

The complaints against Miedzianowski rarely have led to severe discipline.

In two related internal affairs cases, Miedzianowski's immediate supervisor,
who also had been a subject of complaints and lawsuits with Miedzianowski,
investigated the charges of misconduct. Many times, the victims of the
alleged police misconduct were suspected drug dealers or gang members --
people who were unlikely to complain and when they did complain were even
more unlikely to be believed.

Police commanders, meanwhile, point out that criminal suspects often make
internal affairs complaints against aggressive officers like Miedzianowski
to harass and intimidate them.

Martin Abrams, a lawyer for a member of the Latin Kings gang, apparently had
suspicions about why the internal investigation involving his client went
nowhere.

Abrams had complained to police in 1993 that Miedzianowski and Galligan told
him they would plant a gun on the gang member and then arrest him, an act
Abrams contended had occurred, according to internal police records. At the
time, he told Sgt. Stack about the threat and added that he "didn't like the
idea" that Stack was investigating his own officers.

Stack, who declined to comment, cleared his officers of any wrongdoing. In
his report he noted that Abrams refused to give a written statement
detailing his allegations. Abrams also declined to comment.

Two years later, the gang member again complained to police about
Miedzianowski and Galligan. He alleged the officers dropped by his house and
threatened to put him back in prison, saying: "You're out and we are going
to pay you a visit so you can be put back in the joint."

Again, Stack investigated and the officers were cleared.

Front-line supervisors such as Stack frequently investigate their own
officers, police officials acknowledge. Of the nearly 9,200 complaints made
against Chicago's police employees in 1998, police supervisors -- not the
Internal Affairs Division or the Office of Professional Standards -- handled
almost half of all complaints.

The Office of Professional Standards, part of the Police Department but
staffed by non-police officers, handles complaints alleging brutality, while
all other allegations of police misconduct are forwarded to the Internal
Affairs Division. More than 200 people work in those two units.

The sheer number of complaints would overwhelm those units so others are
called on to help investigate, said police spokesman Pat Camden. "When you
get 9,000 to 10,000 complaints a year, obviously, you want to use your
resources as best you can," he said.

No firm criteria determine when Internal Affairs would investigate but as a
general rule, the less serious complaints are handed off to an officer's
supervisor, Camden said.

Sometime during 1995, according to federal investigators, a Chicago drug
dealer allegedly began making monthly $12,000 payments to Miedzianowski for
police protection. Soon after, Juan Martir, a convicted drug dealer and one
of Miedzianowski's confidential informants, allegedly heard about the
arrangement and asked to be included. He occasionally would pay
Miedzianowski $10,000, according to the government.

Once he began regularly taking drug dealers' money, the FBI alleges,
Miedzianowski gradually slid into the role of drug kingpin. The transition
escalated in 1996 when Martir and one of his regular customers, Joseph
DeLeon, had a dispute, according to federal court records. Miedzianowski
intervened and served as a middle man, brokering cocaine deals between
DeLeon and Martir.

"Beginning in the summer of 1996, Martir began fronting, providing on
credit, one to two kilograms of cocaine to Miedzianowski every week to 10
days," according to the FBI's criminal complaint. "Miedzianowski then sold
this cocaine to DeLeon, using part of the proceeds to pay Martir and keeping
the remainder for profit."

Nearly six months later, Martir moved out of Chicago to Miami. But before
leaving, Martir introduced Miedzianowski to the drug ring's regular
customers.

Once in control, Miedzianowski allegedly expanded police protection to the
ring's customers and illegally supplied others with guns.

When FBI agents began accumulating evidence on Miedzianowski's alleged role
in the drug underworld, they were already familiar with similar allegations
made against him.

The FBI had interviewed a former agent with the Bureau of Alcohol Tobacco
and Firearms in 1993 after she accused Miedzianowski and other Chicago cops
of stealing from a drug dealer during a raid -- and after an internal
investigation by Chicago police hit a dead end. She and her husband, also an
ATF agent, alleged that Miedzianowski dealt in stolen guns and sold drugs.

In addition, a street gang leader alleged that Miedzianowski approached one
of the gang's members and wanted to know if they would sell drugs for him.
That allegation is contained in a sworn deposition given in 1997 by Stan
Slaven, who testified as part of a still-unsettled federal lawsuit he filed
alleging misconduct by Miedzianowski, Galligan and Stack, their longtime
supervisor.

In yet another complaint, Evelyn Miranda accused Miedzianowski and other
gang crimes officers of stealing a kilogram of cocaine during a narcotics
arrest that sent her to prison. She later was interviewed by the FBI and a
polygraph expert, who deemed her statement to be truthful, court records
show.

Miranda is seeking a new trial, alleging misconduct by Miedzianowski during
her arrest.

Federal authorities were aware of these complaints against Miedzianowski,
interviewing Slaven and Miranda. But in all three instances -- the ATF
complaint as well as the allegations by Slaven and Miranda -- no charges
were filed.

Finally, the FBI found a source who could give agents an inside look at
Miedzianowski: Juan Martir.

After leaving Chicago, Martir got back into the drug business in Miami. He
was arrested in February 1998 and sent to prison, where he was overheard
talking about his partnership with a Chicago cop, according to a lawyer
familiar with the case. The FBI then wiretapped Miedzianowski's two home
telephone lines and his pager.

Miedzianowski's conversations allegedly included discussions about torturing
a suspect with a hot coat hanger during an interview, about a plot to steal
cocaine from a drug dealer and about spending $50,000 in drug profits on his
girlfriend for a car, braces and laser surgery.

Martir agreed to cooperate, further aiding the investigation. According to
court records, he detailed for agents how the drug ring used three primary
couriers to transport money and drugs between Miami and Chicago, how
Miedzianowski had become his righthand-man and how he turned over the
business to Miedzianowski.

Five days after Martir talked, the FBI arrested Miedzianowski at gang crimes
headquarters.

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