CASE HINTS AT GENESIS OF STING

Freed from detention, one accused law enforcement officer after another
waded into cold drizzle and clustered reporters last week while another
defendant slipped, almost unnoticed, out the courthouse back door.

Albert Mata, in this and other ways, quietly stood apart from the others
named in federal indictments that, unsealed on March 22, jump-started San
Antonio's largest police misconduct case in more than 20 years.

Described by his lawyer as a pawn in the FBI's attempt to snare his
roommate - a police officer and one of the probe's early targets - Mata,
according to the indictments, was the first to fall into the FBI's web.

Mata's case illuminates the undercover probe's early days and tactics,
including two informants - in his case, a stripper and a mysterious figure
known as "Frank."

Like all but one of the dozen men arrested, Mata is accused of attempting
to distribute what they thought was cocaine, supplied by the FBI as part of
a sting initiated to detect crooked cops.

But while everyone else charged was a law officer or, in one instance, an
accused officer's uncle, Mata worked as a copy machine repairman and knew
none of the others indicted, according to his lawyer, Jesse Rivera.

Rivera says authorities pursued the unsuspecting 39-year-old, hoping he
would lure his roommate, the San Antonio police officer, into bogus drug
deals that could be caught on film.

Apparently unlike later efforts, which the government alleges led to
several officers being covertly recorded guarding and escorting fake
cocaine - the videotaped highlights of which were shown in federal court
last week - the 1998 sting flopped, Rivera said.

Aimed at the officer, the early corruption probe yielded only Mata, a
private citizen with a wife, two children and no prior convictions, the
defense lawyer said.

"I believe my guy was a pawn in the FBI's sting operation and is more of a
victim than he is a criminal," said Rivera, who characterized the 1998
sting as a heavy-handed waste of investigative resources.

During a series of hard-fought detention hearings last week, federal
prosecutors displayed detailed evidence against eight defendants -
particularly against six police officers and the uncle, charged together in
a 1999 conspiracy case that seems the centerpiece of the FBI's work.

The videos showed men identified by the government as police officers
talking about guarding the bundles they believed held cocaine.

Seemingly blissfully unaware of the FBI sting, the men then counted cash
payments, tipped back beers, admired a pistol with a laser sight and, in
one case, talked about killing anyone - except law enforcement - who would
try to take the drugs.

In all, prosecutors say they have about 250 videotapes plus recorded phone
conversations. But, thus far, they have revealed no evidence against Mata.

Instead, they remained silent while a federal magistrate set bond for Mata
as well as another police officer, a sheriff's deputy and a university
investigator - all of whom are charged separately.

Asked about the case, Assistant U.S. Attorney David Counts, the lead
prosecutor, declined to discuss details, yet he acknowledged Mata was not
the FBI's ultimate target and that he played a lesser role.

"But he's a lesser participant who transported what he thought was multiple
kilos of cocaine more than once," Counts said. "Crime is crime, so he has
to face the court."

The genesis of the 31/2-year investigation remains shrouded under vague
statements made by authorities during an initial news conference and later
repeated in interviews and court documents.

Officials said only this much: The probe began in mid-1997 when
confidential informants warned the FBI that San Antonio Police Department
officers would aid criminals for money.

For Albert Mata, the momentum started to build in April 1997. On April 14,
he and his second wife filed for divorce, ending a three-year marriage.
Mata moved in with a longtime buddy, a San Antonio police officer whom
defense lawyer Rivera declined to identify. He stayed there about a year.

In early 1998, a stripper introduced Mata to a male friend of hers.

"All I know is the guy's name was Frank," Rivera said.

Frank asked Mata twice to pick up a duffel bag from the airport and to
deliver it to a hotel room, the lawyer said. The bag apparently contained
sham cocaine. The meeting, caught on a hidden camera in the room, had been
arranged by FBI agents.

"Once they had him (Mata) on tape, they felt they could use that leverage
to get his roommate," Rivera said.

Further attempts to bring the roommate officer into the ring faltered,
Rivera said, leaving Mata entangled in a corruption probe that came
crashing down on him three years later.

Prosecutor Counts declined comment but has said that some police officers
were approached unsuccessfully during the course of the sting.

Reached by phone, the police officer Mata once lived with refused to answer
questions related to his former roommate.

"I got nothing to say about that," he said, then quickly hung up.

Mata's case, according to a cryptic letter filed in court by prosecutors,
is linked to that of a man named Frank Alfred Tavitas, a twice-convicted
drug dealer who managed to stay out of prison the second time he was caught.

Counts, the prosecutor, refused to describe the link between Tavitas and
Mata, except to say that Tavitas will likely be a crucial witness.

San Antonio's federal court records show that on April 10, 1997, Tavitas
pleaded guilty to conspiring to distribute narcotics.

Federal agents had arrested him at his house, where agents reported finding
260 grams, or about a half-pound, of cocaine.

It was Tavitas' second drug conspiracy conviction. But U.S. District Judge
Edward C. Prado, ignoring a stiffer penalty outlined in sentencing
guidelines, gave Tavitas probation. His co-defendant received more than
three years in prison.

Court records note that prosecutors filed several sealed motions and
documents concerning Tavitas. The secret filings make legal observers
speculate Tavitas likely earned a lighter-than-normal sentence by
cooperating with the government.

Reached by phone at his home outside Texas, Tavitas responded immediately
when asked how he knew Mata.

"I'm not at liberty to discuss anything," he said. "I cannot answer any
questions."

San Antonio lawyer Demetrio Duarte Jr. represented Tavitas' co-defendant, a
South Texas man named Robert Raymond Garza.

Duarte remembers the case this way: Garza was charged with picking up a
suitcase of cocaine from the airport and delivering it to Tavitas' home.

Duarte also recalls the case having one unusual aspect. Federal narcotics
cases routinely involve the Drug Enforcement Administration.

"That was an FBI case. It should have been DEA but it was FBI. They don't
do as much drug work," he said. "It's very rare for them to come in."

Tavitas was defended by local lawyer Van Hilley, who said he does not
recall the details of the 1997 case nor how it ended. Hilley last week was
hired to defend David Anthony Morales, one of the police officers accused
of transporting bogus cocaine.

Like lawyers for most of the other defendants, Hilley declined to discuss
how the officers fell under FBI scrutiny.

News researchers Carolyn Edds and Michael Knoop contributed to this report.