U.S. INDICTS COP AS DRUG KINGPIN

Prosecutors Say A 22-Year Police Veteran Not Only Gave Protection To A Drug
Ring, He Took It Over

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.