HOMICIDE NO. 71?

A Man Dies After A Violent Confrontation With Police, And It Comes At
A Bad Time For Chief Serpas

On Sept. 21-the night before a young man went into cardiac arrest
outside the Mercy Lounge-police responded to a call about an unruly
person at the bar and music venue. In this case, the man who called
the cops alleged that a bouncer at the Mercy Lounge had gotten too
physical with him as he removed the clubber from the premises for bad
behavior. According to a police report, Officer Jason Cregan arrived
sometime after 10:40 p.m. and talked with the man, who said he
thought he was supposed to work at the club that night. The bouncer
disagreed, and a physical struggle ensued. Due to conflicting
versions of events, the police officer didn't make an arrest, but
sources say he told club personnel that when they have a problem
patron (or would-be employee), they shouldn't take matters into their
own hands; instead, call the cops.

The next night, faced with a disobedient customer, club managers
followed those instructions and called police.

The man ended up dead.

The violent incident-in which multiple police officers Tasered,
pepper-sprayed and baton-beat the young man-comes at a particularly
bad time for Police Chief Ronal Serpas, who last week made news for
presiding over Nashville's highest murder rate in seven years.

In 2004, according to federal statistics, the city saw an overall
rise in violent crime (though a drop in murder) and a drop in property crime.

This year, according to Metro's numbers, Nashville finds itself on
track to score just the opposite: an overall drop in violent crime
with a spike in murders and a rise in property crime.

The newly announced police chief vacancy in New Orleans is looking
better already.

After kicking 21-year-old Patrick Aaron Lee out of a Dark Star
Orchestra show, Mercy Lounge employees called police because he was
acting strangely and trying to re-enter the venue.

What happened next is subject to dispute.

Police say that when they arrived shortly after 11:30 p.m., Lee moved
too close to a police officer, acted suspiciously and removed his
shirt and advanced "aggressively." That's when Officer Christopher
Brooks pepper-sprayed him. Lee, the police contend, removed the rest
of his clothes and ran through the parking lot nude. Brooks called
for backup, and Officer Jonathan Mays, among others, responded. Mays
warned and then Tasered him for "acting in a combative manner." Lee
fell to the ground.

As they tried to arrest him, police say, Lee squirmed from their
grasp and tried to flee. Then, according to a press release, another
officer Tasered him. Then they pepper-sprayed him again. Next, they
beat his legs with police batons. Still unable to bring him under
control, the cops delivered at least two more 50,000-volt Taser stuns
to the young man. Thirteen minutes after Brooks had arrived on the
scene, according to police, he was in custody. "Due to his bizarre
behavior," police called for paramedics. Shortly thereafter, Lee went
into cardiac and respiratory distress; he remained on life support at
Vanderbilt until his death on Saturday afternoon.

Lee's friends and family believe that he was killed, unnecessarily,
by Metro police, and they dispute the department's official account
of events. "We respect Chief Serpas, but this [Tasering] policy has
gone too far in our community," said a family friend who on Monday
joined dozens of others near the Capitol to protest Lee's death.

She described the Belmont-area resident as a young man who overcame
adversity to make something of himself; he planned to follow his
father's music industry footsteps by becoming a recording engineer.
(His dad co-wrote the Garth Brooks hit "Friends in Low Places.")

As they held hand-lettered signs in the midday humidity Monday, Lee's
friends expressed shock and anger about his death.

He weighed only about 160 pounds, they say, and didn't have an
aggressive bone in his body. "He was the most gentle person I've ever
met," says Felicia Zhuang, his girlfriend of a year-and-a-half. "I've
had boyfriends who were abusive, and he's anything but that." On
Monday, Zhuang held a sign with a photo of the two of them taken
after Lee got his G.E.D.; she felt a mix of sadness and rage. "It's
about Pat, but at the same time it's about a lot more than that. He
was tortured to death," she said. "This shouldn't happen to anyone's
son, anyone's boyfriend."

But what exactly did happen?

A source who saw Lee at the Mercy Lounge that night reports that he
was "out of it" and clearly seemed to be on a drug of some sort. But
he wasn't violent: "He was too spaced-out to be aggressive," this
person says. After approaching the stage a couple of times, he was
kicked out, and eventually the police were called.

A surveillance camera apparently captured some, but not all, of the
ensuing conflict with police; Lee's friends and family report that
someone in a nearby building took photos as well.

Beyond this point is speculation and hearsay that comes from family
and friends who, in some cases, have talked with witnesses.

Lee, they say, merely took his shirt off to rub pepper spray from his
eyes. His pants were baggy and barely stayed on to begin with-if they
ended up around his ankles, that would be the result of gravity and
grappling, friends say. He wasn't known to do lots of drugs or drink
heavily, they insist.

And moreover, one adult friend of Lee's says: "So what if he was
naked or on LSD? Like that gives them the right to shoot him
repeatedly with a Taser?"

Dr. Bruce Levy, Metro's medical examiner, performed a preliminary
autopsy on Lee's body Monday. "There was no clear-cut cause of
death," Levy tells the Scene, noting that he found "a multitude of
superficial injuries," consistent with a parking lot struggle, but no
broken bones or internal injuries.

He found marks consistent with Tasering, he says, and took samples
for further testing.

It will take several weeks to get the results of toxicology tests
that can identify drugs in the bloodstream other than the small
amounts of cannabis and tranquilizers found in a hospital urine test.
(It's possible these could have already been in his bloodstream, but
police say they found LSD and marijuana in his pockets.)

So if the initial autopsy is inconclusive, how will the medical
examiner determine a cause of death? Levy points out that bursts of
electricity are by their nature impermanent; electrocution leaves
little direct evidence of death save a few scars. "It really becomes
a situation where you begin to rule out the other possibilities," he
says. "When you see burn marks on the body and can't explain [the
death] any other way, what you are left with is electrocution." And
time is always a factor. "If a person in general is shocked with a
Taser and they immediately fall over and go into cardiac arrest, I
would consider that good circumstantial evidence that the Taser
played a direct role. If, however, they get shocked and fall over
five minutes later, it becomes much less clear," Levy says, adding,
"If it sounds like an incredibly complicated case, it is."

But there are plenty of sharp minds working on it. Metro homicide
detectives have launched an investigation, as has the departmental
Office of Professional Accountability. The medical examiner has his
own investigators. And the Lee family, too, has hired attorney Tommy
Overton to figure out what happened last Thursday night.

They say there are plenty of witnesses to the events that led to Pat's death.

Meantime, if Monday's protest is any indication, Nashvillians may be
getting tired of some of the camera-loving police chief's tactics,
which have included sweeping traffic ticketing, new surveillance
cameras and the distribution of 45 Tasers to a handful of Metro officers.

Motorists of all colors and car types honked their support for the
bereaved protesters: lots of African Americans (including an MTA bus
driver), but also no shortage of suburban SUV drivers.

Even a guy in a pickup leaned out the window to holler, "It was
wrong-damn wrong!" about Lee's death.

Tuesday, Chief Serpas took to damage control, penning a Tennessean
op-ed piece pledging to redouble his efforts to stomp out homicide.
"As of last Friday, 70 persons have tragically lost their lives due
to the willful acts of others," he wrote.

That same Friday, Patrick Lee lay bruised and brain-dead in a
Vanderbilt Hospital bed. The next day, he died. Will he be recorded
as Nashville's 71st homicide of 2005?