WHILE PRISON CELL AWAITS, EX-OFFICER BLAMES BOSSES

Robert David Dixon says becoming a cop gave his life direction.

Now, after pleading guilty to corruption charges, he's headed to federal
prison for actions he says his superiors sanctioned.

The former Plant City police officer cooperated with the U.S. attorney's
office and received an eight-month prison sentence. His former partner,
Armand Cotnoir, who also cooperated with prosecutors, was sentenced to 30
months.

Both former officers pledged future cooperation in what the U.S. attorney's
office says is an ongoing probe into corruption in the Plant City Police
Department. Federal prosecutors wouldn't say when or whether more
indictments are coming.

Dixon said his attorney, Daniel L. Castillo, recently was told by federal
officials that Dixon should be prepared to testify at a moment's notice.
Castillo, however, said the U.S. attorney's office merely was reminding
Dixon of his obligations under his plea deal and not suggesting imminent
arrests.

Castillo said he believes there will be more indictments, but he doesn't
know when.

"I definitely think that a lot of people are worried in Plant City,'' he said.

'Cop To Con'

Dixon, 41, who is working at a car dealership, said he doesn't know when he
will get a letter from the U.S. marshal's office telling him to report to
prison.

The hardest part of his ordeal, he said, has been explaining his arrest to
his two sons. The boys, ages 8 and 11, took it "about as well as can be
expected,'' Dixon said. It's "kind of tough going from cop to con.''

Round-faced and diminutive, Dixon once worked as a corrections officer in
Polk County. He invited a reporter to interview him at his new job on the
condition that the business not be named and that his photograph not be
published with this story for fear his job could be jeopardized.

Dixon said he's not particularly anxious about being on the other side of
the bars.

Still, an eight-month prison term, he said, doesn't compare to wrestling
around in the front seat of a car with an armed suspect or chasing a bank
robber through the woods.

"I'm not looking forward to it,'' he said. "I'll just do my time and get
out. ... I don't lose a lot of sleep over it.''

Dixon's attitude evinces bravado. Some would call it arrogance - the same
brand of arrogance that seemed to infuse the antidrug unit in which Dixon
and Cotnoir served. According to federal prosecutors and Dixon, the unit
operated in a ``gray area'' of the law, using aggressive and often illegal
tactics to catch suspected drug dealers.

They lied on police reports, fudged facts to support their arrests and
searched homes without valid warrants.

"We talked about the gray area of the Constitution on a regular basis,''
Dixon said. Sometimes, he said, "You had to finesse the truth.''

"There's a fine line between being aggressive and stepping out over the
edge,'' he said.

Bosses To Blame

Dixon maintains the practices were sanctioned by superiors. "We didn't go
to the restroom without a supervisor telling us,'' he said. "Your boss
tells you to do something a certain way, you may thumb your nose at him,
but you won't be working'' there for long.

Dixon's bosses did not return a message seeking comment.

Attorney Ron Cacciatore, who represents them, said, "I do not believe
there's any credible evidence to show that anyone's done anything wrong,
other than those people who have pleaded guilty and have been sentenced. I
think Mr. Dixon's credibility is very suspect. He obviously harbors a lot
of ill will toward the Plant City Police Department.''

Cacciatore wouldn't discuss the specifics of Dixon's claims, saying, "The
man is not telling the truth. That's our response. ... The guy got his butt
in the wringer, so he's reaching out trying to trash other people because
he is of no value talking about the things he has done.''

Dixon admitted he didn't have any pangs with the corruption when it was
going on.

"We thought we were doing a great job,'' he said. "We'd gotten people that
they had been working on for years ... The people were able to walk the
streets a little safer, at the expense of the Constitution. We felt the
ends justified the means.''

Revolving-Door JusticeDixon said they were frustrated by the vagaries of
the legal system. "You get real tired of arresting drug dealers, only for
them to get probation after probation, then house arrest, only to be told
by the state attorney's office, 'You'll get 'em next time,' '' he said. "We
hated hearing that.''

The overriding concern, he said, was to ``get the bad guys off the streets.''

Dixon said he "was happy with the freedom'' his bosses had bestowed upon him.

"They had taken the handcuffs off,'' he said.

Dixon says he now realizes that what he did was fundamentally wrong. "The
Constitution,'' he said, "is what keeps us from being a police state.''

Dixon complained that the same superiors he says created the corrupt
environment have been promoted since he left. But he had praise for many in
the department.

"I was privileged to work with some very fine people,'' he said.

He said 95 percent of what the police did was above reproach. "No police
officer wants every case he ever worked held up to the light and
examined,'' he said.

When asked whether the actions and attitude he described in the department
were evidence of a certain level of arrogance, Dixon replied: "You will
find that [for] police officers, simply being in that line of work, showing
fear is not acceptable,'' he said. "It takes a certain set of stones going
to some of the places those guys go to.''

Porn Tapes, 'Overactive Libidos'

While most of the law-breaking Dixon admits to involved investigations,
there was one area he conceded had nothing to do with law enforcement.

Stealing pornographic videotapes during searches was "a silly, stupid thing
we did,'' Dixon said. The police were, he said, "a bunch of guys with
overactive libidos.''

"We never took any drugs or money,'' he said. "We took a bunch of chintzy
porn tapes.''

Dixon praised Cotnoir, his former partner, who initially cooperated with
the corruption investigation and then demanded a trial after a falling out
with the U.S. attorney's office. In the middle of the trial, at which Dixon
testified for the prosecution, Cotnoir pleaded guilty and agreed to
continue cooperating.

Dixon said he wanted to speak at Cotnoir's sentencing in defense of his
former partner. "He is still a fine young man,'' Dixon said.

Both Cotnoir's attorney and an assistant U.S. attorney described Dixon as a
mentor to Cotnoir. But Dixon denied that, saying the only influence came
from above. Although Dixon had been in the police department seven years
longer than Cotnoir, he said Cotnoir was the better officer.

Dixon said he wasn't one of those kids who always wanted to be a police
officer. He got the idea, he said, when his best friend became a state
trooper and benefited from the discipline.

"I needed direction and a structured lifestyle,'' Dixon said.

Becoming an officer "gave me the direction to start going to college.'' He
earned his bachelor's degree before he left the department and recently
completed graduate studies in organizational management, he said.

Although he has admitted embezzling $1,000 from a former employer, Dixon
said that was minor. He said all it involved was him punching a time clock
for a colleague in a meat-packing plant an hour before the other employee
came to work and the colleague punching Dixon's time card an hour after he
left.

Now, in addition to doing customer financing for a car dealership, he said
he has rental homes and apartments.

Dixon says he doesn't regret his law-enforcement career.

"Even with everything that's happened,'' he said. "I loved the job.''