BEDROCK OF DALLAS JUSTICE SYSTEM LOOKS MORE LIKE SHEETROCK

Those who tuned to NBC this week were treated to the first Latino drama in
the history of network television. Of course, Hollywood's images of Latinos
being limited to gardeners and gangsters, the creators of Kingpin had
trouble conceiving of the typical Latino experience as any more complex or
uplifting than what they came up with: a ruthless family of murdering
hooligans who live lavishly on drug profits.

In the show set along the U.S.-Mexico border, the drugs are real. It is the
stereotype - that Latinos traffic in narcotics - that is false and racist.
In a real-life case here in North Texas, the drugs are bogus. It is the
stereotypes and racism that are real.

When we last tuned into the Dallas fake drug scandal, the FBI had launched
an investigation into how it is that what local authorities thought were
hundreds of pounds of cocaine turned out to be ground Sheetrock.

That magic trick resulted in the dismissal of 85 drug cases and the release
from jail of dozens of defendants - most of them Mexican immigrants and
legal residents. It set up the city and county for a hailstorm of civil
lawsuits that could cost taxpayers tens of millions. And it set the stage
for plenty of future turmoil as Latino immigrants, more distrustful than
ever of police, burrow underground, where they are easy prey for scoundrels.

It shook public confidence - or at least should have - in the Dallas County
district attorney's office, where the prosecutors are so skilled they can
convict the innocent.

Ditto the Dallas Police Department, which must accept the possibility that,
before this is over, some who now wear badges may be wearing stripes. Two
of the department's top narcotics officers are on leave until the FBI can
determine if they knew the drugs were fake or even planted them.

The scandal also revealed the schism between Mexican immigrants and local
Mexican-American "leaders" (for lack of a better word) who were shown to be
base, powerless and motivated by their own interests. Those shepherds
sacrificed the flock by remaining silent amid a travesty of justice that
should have had them in the streets with raised fists.

The silence stems from the fact that the two officers on leave, as well as
the brass up the chain of command, are Latino. So is Dallas City Manager
Ted Benavides. As the overseer of the Police Department, he also should be
faulted for not launching his own inquiry.

Add to the mix the troubling fact that Dallas Police Chief Terrell Bolton,
as the first African-American chief in a city that has struggled to
overcome a legacy of black-white strife, has all but been given a pass by
city leaders and much of the local media. Remarkably, most seem content
with his fainthearted assurances that - through a series of administrative
reforms - he has managed to lock the barn door now that the horse has left
the stable. They don't seem to care about how the horse got out in the
first place.

Chief Bolton has failed the test of leadership. When discussing the
scandal, he rarely expresses remorse and relies too much on doubletalk and
spin. For example, the police chief has said on many occasions that his
department first became aware of irregularities with drug evidence in
September 2001 and that police launched an internal investigation soon
thereafter. Supposedly, that investigation stopped when the FBI began its
inquiry. So why, then, did Chief Bolton, during a recent meeting with The
Dallas Morning News editorial board, claim there never was an internal
investigation into the scandal?

Pressed, he went on to suggest that this was accepted protocol and that
local law enforcement agencies typically defer to federal investigations.
Not entirely true. According to a Justice Department spokesman, neither law
nor custom says local police can't investigate matters being probed by the
feds. It is the locals' call.

It is astounding. Folks in Dallas are so squeamish about questioning the
conduct of a black police chief for fear of being called racist. Yet he
deserves questioning, and they can't see racism where it really exists: in
the reluctance of many to conceive of the possibility that Mexican
defendants charged with drug crimes could be innocent - despite what is on
television.

Deception. Prejudice. Injustice. Self-interest. Ethnic politics. Even a
whiff of corruption. Who needs Tinseltown? Dallas' fake drug saga has all
the elements of a great Hollywood story. Except, perhaps, a happy ending.

Ruben Navarrette Jr. is an editorial writer and columnist for The Dallas
Morning News.