The Oregonian, January 29, 1998

POLICE ACTED TO PRESERVE DRUG EVIDENCE

The Smell Of Burning Marijuana Led Officers To Take Action, Triggering
Portland Shootout

By J. Todd Foster and David R. Anderson of The Oregonian staff

Portland police officers caught in a fatal firefight Tuesday were waiting
on a search warrant when a drug suspect forced their hand by burning
marijuana plants, a court record states.

The officers had every right to break down the door with a concrete
stepping stone and confront suspect Steven Douglas Dons, legal authorities
said Wednesday.

A probable cause affidavit filed late Wednesday in Multnomah County Circuit
Court indicates that five officers visited Dons' rental home twice before
noon Tuesday.

The first time, officers' knocks on the door went unanswered, the affidavit
states. Then they smelled marijuana smoke at the house, a source said, and
immediately sought a search warrant.

The search warrant was on the desk of Multnomah County Circuit Judge
Michael Marcus and waiting to be signed, a source said, when officers
returned to the home at 2612 S.E. 111th Ave. about 11:38 a.m.

"The officers both saw and smelled the odor of burning marijuana from the
chimney of the residence," Deputy District Attorney James McIntyre wrote in
the affidavit. ". . . The officers then attempted entry into the residence
to halt the destruction of evidence."

Just inside the door, Dons allegedly fired at least 10 shots, said homicide
Detective Sgt. Duane Wentlandt. Dons used a cheap semi-automatic SKS rifle
capable of firing 30 rounds a minute.

Officer Colleen Waibel, 44, was struck above and below her protective vest
and died quickly. Officer Kim Keist, 39, remained in serious condition
after she was hit by two rounds, both possibly penetrating her vest. Sgt.
Jim Hudson, 42, was struck in the hand. He returned to the crime scene
Wednesday with his arm in a sling to help detectives with collecting evidence.

Dr. Larry Lewman, state medical examiner, said Waibel's autopsy Wednesday
showed she died of multiple gunshot wounds. He would not say how many or
where they were.

Wentlandt said it could take a couple of days to process the crime scene.
Police continued to rope off Southeast 111th Avenue between Clinton and
Division streets Wednesday.

Investigators say they don't know exactly what happened during the gunfight
because they've not interviewed the officers involved. In officer-involved
shootings, officers get lawyers before they talk to investigators.

"We don't have an absolutely clear picture yet," Wentlandt said. He would
not comment on other aspects of the case, including how many guns the
suspect had or whether marijuana was found in the blue, barnlike rental
house Dons shared with Jeffrey Moore.

One police supervisor who didn't want to be named said of the secrecy, "I
don't think anyone's seen it this tight before."

Dons, 37, who compiled an extensive criminal record in Las Vegas before
moving to Portland in 1995, remains under guard and in serious condition at
OHSU Hospital.

He was charged Wednesday with two counts of aggravated murder, three counts
of attempted aggravated murder and two counts of first-degree assault with
a firearm.

Police attached black ribbons to their badges Wednesday and continued to
mourn Waibel's death, the first for a Portland policewoman.

As if Tuesday weren't bad enough, Portland police shot and killed a
19-year-old man about midnight Tuesday after they said he shot at them.

Aaron Rahmaan died early Wednesday at Legacy Emanuel Hospital from a
gunshot wound to the head. Rahmaan was wearing body armor when police
attempted to talk to him shortly before midnight on Albina Avenue, just
south of Killingsworth, said Lt. Cliff Madison, a police spokesman.

Madison would not name the officers involved or the circumstances.

As the community grieved Wednesday, defense lawyers and prosecutors debated
the wisdom of the bureau's drug interdiction policy called "knock and talk."

When police don't have enough probable cause for a search warrant but have
a reliable tip about drugs, they knock on a door and ask to speak to those
inside. Under a voluminous body of case law nationally, police can break
down doors and enter homes without a warrant if they have "exigent" or
emergency circumstances.

Those circumstances include saving someone's life or preventing the
destruction of evidence by any means, including burning it or flushing it
down a toilet, said Susan Mandiberg, a Lewis & Clark Law School professor
and expert in criminal procedure.

Mark McDonnell, a Multnomah County senior deputy district attorney who
heads the drug unit, said knock and talks are valuable enforcement tools in
the war on drugs.

Defense attorneys said the technique is asking for disaster. The low-key
approach doesn't bring the same firepower and backup as search warrants,
they said.

"For 10 years, we've been saying someone was going to be killed if the cops
keep doing this," said Emily Simon, a Portland criminal defense attorney.

Oregon City defense attorney Jenny Cooke, who handles many cases arising
from knock and talks, said police use the procedure to avoid getting
warrants. If they find drugs, they can seize the person's home and assets
under civil forfeiture proceedings.

That gives them a financial incentive, Cooke said. "This was an awful
tragedy. But I can't say I'm surprised."

Marcus would not discuss the case but said knock and talks are useful,
cost-effective and generally safe. Domestic disturbances and felony car
stops are far more dangerous, he said.

"From my perspective, it's not something that's inherently risky as far as
police work goes," Marcus said.

Other information emerged Wednesday about Dons, a high school dropout who
attended at least four Northern California high schools and was discharged
from the U.S. Air Force in 1979 after two years.

The military would not say whether the discharge was honorable, but most
Air Force hitches are at least three or four years.

Dons moved to Portland in the early to mid-1990s and lived off and on with
Moore, whom he met in the mid-1980s in Las Vegas, said Moore's ex-wife,
Chelle Moore.

She said she is cooperating with Portland police.

Jeffrey Moore, 44, has been a computer network specialist at Mt. Hood
Community College since February 1993, college officials said. He has not
been charged with a crime.

He did not return several phone calls or respond to a message left at his
office Wednesday.

Chelle Moore said Dons baby-sat her two children several times in early
January while they visited their father, Moore. At one point, Dons
handcuffed her 7-year-old boy to a chair after he complained about the
chicken soup Dons fixed, she said.

He also handcuffed the same boy to a door knob another time when he
wouldn't calm down, the woman said.

"Steve is a very violent, angry person," she said. "He didn't like rules."

Carolyn Testerman of Bend grew up with Dons in the Menlo Park area south of
San Francisco. Their birthdays were four days apart, and they lived near
one another. He called her nearly every birthday, she said.

Testerman remembers in the late 1960s or early 1970s when Dons and his
brother, Donald, located a marijuana plant and were pictured in a newspaper
as heroic youngsters who notified police.

Other than that day, "He was a troubled little kid," Testerman said. "He
was the neighborhood rock thrower. He had an aim that could hit anything,"
including the foreheads of playmates.

"The other kids weren't allowed to play with him," she said. "I had a soft
spot for him because I felt sorry for him."

Reporters Jennifer Bjorhus, Scott Learn, Michele Parente and Stuart
Tomlinson and researchers Margie Gultry and Gail Hulden of The Oregonian
staff contributed to this report.

The Oregonian, January 28, 1998

DESK VETERAN HIT STREETS WITH ENTHUSIASM

Colleen Waibel, Shot To Death Tuesday, Spent 20 Years In Law Enforcement,
The Past Six As A Sworn Officer

By Pete Farrell of The Oregonian staff

Portland Police Bureau Officer Colleen Waibel, 44, spent years in police
desk jobs before hitting the streets six years ago.

Waibel liked street patrol work and took on a neighborhood liaison
assignment with the East Precinct. She was helping a drug and vice task
force with a raid Tuesday when she died from fire from an automatic weapon.

Waibel had been in law enforcement about 20 years, starting with the
Washington County sheriff's department before joining the Portland Police
Bureau to work in the records division. After 11 years in that job, she
became a sworn officer six years ago.

She was married to Sgt. Mark Fortner of East Precinct, who had taken a sick
day Tuesday and was notified at home about his wife's death. She had two
sons by a previous marriage.

Colleen Waibel's parents live in Hillsboro. She came from a large
Washington County family that includes reporter Janice Waibel of KPTV (12),
who is the dead officer's first cousin.

As an officer in Portland, Colleen Waibel was known for being active in
neighborhood matters and had been a responsive neighborhood liaison officer
in the Madison South neighborhood in the area around Rocky Butte.

"She was a wonderful person, and I don't know how to describe how much it
hurts this time," said Rosanne Lee, East Precinct crime prevention
specialist, who had worked with Waibel in her earlier assignments and saw
her often at East Precinct, where Lee has her office.

After a condolence visit to East Precinct, where officers did not want to
be interviewed, City Commissioner Charlie Hales said he could only repeat
what he had been told: "She was hard-working, diligent, loved her work.
Always ready to do her job."

Early in her career, Waibel worked as a secretary to Washington County
Sheriff Bud Barnes. One officer who met her when he joined the department
in 1975 remembered her Tuesday as upbeat and easygoing.

"She was friendly and real hard-working," he said. "And as far as I know,
she was very capable."

Waibel grew up on a farm in a rural area outside Hillsboro. One of her
cousins works for the Cornelius Fire Department. Janice Waibel was covering
the story of the shooting for KPTV when her office learned the identity of
the dead officer. Waibel called her mother to make sure she knew what had
happened, learned that the family had been notified, and then went back to
covering the shooting. "She wanted to stay on the story" despite being
upset, said John Sears, the station's news director.

Colleen Waibel started working for the sheriff's office in the mid-1970s
and stayed for about five years. She was leaving, she told friends at the
time, to take a job in the Portland Police Bureau's records department.

A friend from the sheriff's office unexpectedly ran into Waibel and her
husband last summer in Frenchglen, the remote high desert burg near Steens
Mountains in Harney County. Waibel and her husband apparently were on a car
trip through the area and stopped for the night at the Frenchglen Hotel and
had dinner with her old Washington County friend and his wife.

"She said that probably 10 years ago she started trying to get on patrol,"
said the friend, who asked not to be identified. "She liked patrol."

David Anderson, Jim Long and Don Hamilton of The Oregonian staff also
contributed to this report.

The Oregonian January 28, 1998

SUSPECT IS SAID TO HATE POLICE, SCORN WOMEN

Former Co-workers Say Steven Douglas Dons Also Bragged About His Criminal
History And His Access To Guns

By Stuart Tomlinson of The Oregonian staff

Former co-workers said Steven Douglas Dons bragged a lot, broke easily
under pressure and appeared at times to hear voices.

Others described 37-year-old Dons, accused of killing a Portland police
officer and wounding two others Tuesday, as a man who liked to boast about
how "well connected" he was when it came to procuring handguns or machine
guns. He also commented on how he hated police and didn't respect women.

"He said he could get me anything I wanted - 9-millimeter, machine gun, you
name it," said Dave Shaddon, station manager at Astro Gas and Carwash at
Southeast Division Street and 112th Avenue, less than a block from the
scene of Tuesday's shooting.

The station hired Dons in May 1995 as a pump attendant for $4.75 an hour
and promoted him six months later to assistant manager at $6.75 an hour.

"He was a big mouth . . . kind of a know-it-all," Shaddon said. "But he
worked out fine. . . . They wanted him to be a manager."

By February 1996, Dons was promoted to manager and transferred to the Astro
station at Northwest 21st Avenue and Marshall Street, where he earned about
$12.50 an hour plus commissions.

He quit that job after a month, Shaddon said, because he said he just
didn't like it.

In the months after he quit, Dons would stroll by the Division Street
station, drop in and chat with Shaddon and his crew. He occasionally asked
Shaddon to hire him back.

Other times, the talk turned to guns or a boast about Dons' criminal
history, which included arrests in Las Vegas, including some charges of
resisting or obstructing police.

During Tuesday's standoff, Portland police asked Shaddon to stand by in
case they needed him to talk with Dons by phone, but Shaddon's services
never were needed.

Instead, Shaddon and his co-workers fielded phone calls from worried Astro
managers, juggled school pickup times for their children, and chain-smoked
cigarettes while Tuesday's drama played out.

When the shooting started, they were close enough to hear the gunshots and
see the smoke from the gunpowder.

"We heard a bunch of popping - it was a ripping sound," said one Astro pump
attendant, Francis Stewart. "You know the sound a whole pack of
firecrackers makes - it was like that."

Moments later, a swarm of police cars descended on the station, blocking
traffic and closing the business.

Until Shaddon walked across Division Street to buy fried chicken for
co-workers, less than an hour after the shootings occurred, he had no idea
his former employee was the man police said had shot three officers.

"I can't believe it. . . . I know this guy," Shaddon told his workers,
huddling in the small brick office of the large yellow and blue station as
camouflaged police officers patrolled nearby.

Shaddon's wife, Shannon, an assistant manager at the station, said Dons
frequently commented on how much he hated police and that women should be
barefoot and pregnant.

"I didn't like him at all," she said. "He didn't think women should be
working. He didn't have any respect for women."

The Oregonian January 28, 1998

MORE EQUALITY IN RANKS BRINGS WITH IT MORE RISKS

Portland Has Long Been In The Vanguard When It Comes To Women Police
Officers, And That's Been Both Good And Bad

By Erin Hoover of The Oregonian staff

In the world of law enforcement, they generally are not called ladies. They
are sometimes called women. But more often, they are called females.

Female police officers' approaches to their work are no doubt as varied as
any other group's. But some women in policing will tell you that success
has meant finding a balance between being a woman and behaving like a man.

" 'Female' is a gender. 'Woman' is gender plus a sense of femininity, and
we have a tendency to put a certain amount of our femininity in the locker
when we put on the uniform," said Det. Sgt. Erin Kelley, a cop for 25
years, 21 of those with the Portland Police Bureau.

Women have strode closer and closer to equality with men in policing since
this nation's first woman police officer was hired - Lola Baldwin, at the
Portland Police Bureau in 1905 to keep employment-seeking young ladies out
of the hands of madams.

No longer are female officers expected to work in a Women's Protective
Division wearing dresses and donning hats and gloves when they leave the
office, their Smith & Wessons tucked in their purses, as they did in the
1960s in Portland.

Now women populate virtually every department in urban police bureaus,
including the SWAT teams - or the Special Emergency Reaction Team - though
not always in front-line roles.

In the Portland Police Bureau, 16.2 percent of the 964 sworn personnel are
women. Of the bureau's criminalists, 23.5 percent are women, 17.1 percent
of the sergeants are women, 7.7 percent of the lieutenants are women, and
one of the three assistant police chiefs - Lynnea Berg - is a woman.

Penny Harrington, who spent 23 years as a Portland Police officer, became
Portland Police chief in 1985, the first woman police chief of a major
metropolitan police department. She served 18 months before resigning.

But along with the pride of getting closer to equality among the ranks of
police have come more women officers in the line of fire.

On Tuesday, a Portland Police officer became the bureau's first woman to be
shot and killed in the line of duty.

Colleen Waibel, 44, was also one of the first women officers killed in the
line of duty in Oregon.

Alice Mae Moran, a matron with the Josephine County Sheriff's Office, was
killed in the line of duty on Nov. 17, 1971, according to Craig W. Floyd,
chairman of the National Law Enforcement Officers Memorial Fund in
Washington, D.C. Matrons were generally women who handled women prisoners
in the jails, Floyd said. He was unable to say how she died.

Nationally, 119 women officers have been killed in the line of duty, from
gunshot or stab wounds, traffic accidents or other causes, since the end of
1997, Floyd said. He said of the 700,000 federal, state and local law
enforcement officers, 10 percent are women.

Tuesday's shooting in Southeast Portland also injured another woman
officer, Kim Keist, 39 - and two male officers - marking only the second
time a female Portland Police officer has been shot and not killed. Jeanne
L. Stevenson, 28, was shot in the leg in 1990 during the arrest of a
drunken-driving suspect.

And with the honor of approaching equality in life comes the recognition of
equality in death:

"It was a loss of an officer," said Kelley. "It doesn't matter to me if it
was male or female, black, white, Hispanic or Asian. It was an officer in a
blue uniform."

The Oregonian January 28, 1998

LIVE TV COVERAGE ANGERS CITY, POLICE OFFICIALS

Police Chief Charles Moose Accuses Local Stations Of Endangering Police
With Aerial Shots Of Their Positions

By Pete Schulberg of The Oregonian staff

Saying that live television coverage Tuesday afternoon endangered police
officers by showing strategic positions during the Southeast Portland
standoff, city officials are seeking to crack down on news helicopters.

"You put our officers in danger and continued to do that," said a livid
Portland police Chief Charles Moose, whose comments were broadcast live
following the standoff.

The police shooting and 2 1/2-hour standoff were carried live throughout
the afternoon by KATU (2), KGW (8), KOIN (6) and KPTV (12).

During the siege, much of the video originated from helicopters whose
stabilizing, long-lens cameras showed police special response team
positions and other police activity.

"It's time to call them on it and make them have some sense of
responsibility," said Jeffrey L. Rogers, attorney for the city of Portland.

Police were concerned that the suspect, Steven Douglas Dons, 37, was
watching TV and able to see officers surrounding his house.

Several times during the siege, commanders at the scene radioed 9-1-1
dispatchers and asked them to call TV stations to move back helicopters and
stop showing live shots of police moving into position.

Dons, who had been shot in the initial contact with police, came to the
door of his house after either seeing on TV or hearing on radio that an
Oregon State Police armored vehicle had driven to his doorstep.

Rogers has been asked by Sam Adams, chief of staff for Mayor Vera Katz, to
determine if the city has any legal recourse to limit live telecasts from
crime scenes.

"Every time the police asked us to do something, we'd pull away," said John
Sears, KPTV news director, echoing his competition. "Nobody wants to have a
SWAT officer shot by a suspect who is watching their news."

Mike Rausch, KGW news director, said, "We are very aware of our role in the
safety of police officers and did not overstep any journalistic bounds to
get the story." KGW started the local TV chopper competition when it
introduced "Sky 8" three years ago.

During the coverage, Adams called general managers at Portland's stations
to express his dissatisfaction. While station executives said they were
complying with police requests, video of officers on the ground was shown.

Following Moose's angry denunciation, KATU anchorman Paul Linnman told
viewers, "Our helicopters went out (away from the scene) when they were
ordered to do so; our reporters stayed back. We played by the rules
bringing you this story."

Portland police officers had called for a Federal Aviation Administration
regulation which requires aircraft to steer clear of airspace above an
emergency situation on the ground.

"We comply with all regulations," said Kerry Oslund, KOIN news director.
"We would welcome an investigation. We have our obligations, too."