COPS, KIDS AND CASH

It's a simple question: Would $80,000 better serve three kids facing future
education costs, or would it go further in the multi-million dollar coffers
of cops?

Here's the simple answer: Leave it with the kids.

Why? First off, it doesn't belong to the cops. Secondly, local cops can
spend $80,000 dousing a burning sofa on University Hill in the name of
"riot control." To cops, 80 grand is chicken feed. To children, it's a good
head start in life.

The story begins on Valentine's Day 2005 when three Boulder children at
play spotted a dirty duffle bag in a field at 76th Street and Fairview
Road. They opened it and found $80,000 in cash. They did the right thing
and reported the find to their parents, who made the phenomenally bad
decision to call police. The Boulder County Sheriff's Department seized the
cash as evidence of a potential crime, suspecting it might be drug money.

"There wasn't a lot in the state statutes governing found property, so the
county commissioners established a policy that said we would return found
property to the finder in 90 days if not claimed by the rightful legal
owner," said Lt. Phil West, of the sheriff's department.

It was a good new policy by promising new commissioners, who actually seem
to understand the concept of working for the public. The county's policy
was even made retroactive in order to govern the kids' cash. With the new
policy in place, the kids counted down the days until the money would be
returned.

So, the money sat there in an evidence locker. Tick-tock, and nobody cared.
Soon it would be tuition funds. But just two days before the clock ran out,
police asked us to believe that an amazingly convenient phone call came
their way. A "tipster's" information, just before the deadline, just
happened to contain all the elements that would let the police keep the cash.

My reaction went like this: "Rat bastards. They have decided that an
$80,000 windfall would be pretty nice to have. They'll buy donuts. Just
before the money was to be returned to the children, they concocted some
cock-and-bull story about an anonymous tipster linking the money to a drug
crime, the nature of which can't be revealed. Federal law, conveniently,
allows cops to keep money that's linked to drug crimes. Unspecified drug
crime? Anonymous tipster? Yeah, right."

Calming down, I questioned Lt. West about the ever-so-convenient tip. He
explained that the money can't be returned to the children for "weeks or
months," if ever.

Lt. West: "He [the tipster] said, 'I think this is probably related, would
you look into it. So that's what we're doing."

Me: "Did this anonymous tipster know about the deadline, as it pertained to
the kids getting their money back?"

Lt. West: "No, I think that was largely coincidence."

Me: "Would this tipster stand to receive the money, should the crime be
solved?"

Lt. West: "No. He's not in a position to receive anything from it." (Unless
he's a department narc, who wants some new toy to play with.)

Me: "What might happen to the money, now that there's a tip that supposedly
links it to a drug crime?"

Lt. West: "If it's related to a drug transaction, there are any number of
directions it could go. It could go to restitution, it could be held for
evidence or it could go toward law enforcement agencies involved in the
investigation in order to offset their costs."

Bingo. As I feared, the cops might end up with the money all to themselves.
The kids were selfless enough to turn it in; the cops may not be selfless
enough to give it back.

It ought to be illegal for police to keep crime money. It's a recipe for
corruption and deceit, turning police into privateers. Why search for
truth, after all, when the mere suspicion that money or property is linked
to drugs leads to a windfall for the agency charged with obtaining
objective truth? Exculpatory evidence? Throw it out, man. There's money to
be had.

I asked Lt. West if the money might go back to the children, under the
common law concept of "finders keepers, losers weepers."

Lt. West: "Personally, that would be our preference, but I cannot make that
commitment right now."

Lt. West clearly isn't a "rat bastard" planning a donut party. He sounds
like a man with true empathy for the kids who found the cash. He's the one
who had to tell them, two days before payday, about a messy little phone
call. It was a conversation he clearly didn't enjoy.

Me: "Their reaction?"

Lt. West: "They were disappointed, but they were good natured about it. I
don't think they really have a concept of just what this potentially means.
I swore them all in as deputy sheriffs, and they were pleased with that."

Unfortunately, children, the $80,000 honorary badges won't buy books. And
here's what all of this means: Local cops hope to keep your money-an amount
that exceeds what most adults earn in an entire year. It means that police
may deprive you of money that could greatly improve your lives-money that's
yours because you were in the right place at the right time. It means that
you should probably avoid calling police if ever again you find cash in a
bag, because they might not play fair. It means that the police
officer-regardless of what you're told in school-isn't always your friend.