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Danny and Allison, Part 1
They're young, Jewish professionals who routinely split their ticket. So far, they lean toward Rudy because they say Hillary doesn't seem to have any principles.
By Jake Tapper
[11/22/99]

Throw away the key!
Jesse Jackson has betrayed the civil rights movement by defending young thugs who need to be punished, not babied.
By David Horowitz
[11/22/99]

Maybe I should buy you a globe for Christmas
George W. Bush's father planned to hit then-Gov. Bill Clinton with a series of one-line "zingers" about his foreign policy ignorance in '92, but guess who's laughing now.
By Robert Parry
[11/20/99]

Bush channels Reagan on foreign policy
With his first major speech, the GOP front-runner sought to put a string of gaffes behind him.
By Mark Dennis
[11/20/99]

"Drop the Chalupa, Al Gore!"
Republicans are plotting a strategy to court the Latino vote.
By Anthony York
[11/19/99]

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The Dillard case, for example, was almost filed by the Kings County district attorney, but Greg Strickland, who then held the county post, dropped the charges, citing lack of evidence. Many speculate that Strickland was also scared of the CCPOA. He had already crossed the group once, by prosecuting Corcoran guards involved in a 1995 beating incident. Sure enough, the union's wrath materialized during the next D.A.'s race, in the form of a massive campaign donation to Strickland's opponent. In testimony before a state legislative committee, Strickland suggested the creation of "an independent prosecution unit" because, as he put it, "My incumbent owes the CCPOA $30,000 worth of campaign contributions." That project was vetoed by Gov. Davis, but a compromise was eventually struck, leading to the creation of a new inspector general position, which is filled by gubernatorial appointment.

Lockyer spokesman Nathan Barankin said that getting good investigations from local prosecutors and police forces in the small towns that house many of these prisons continues to be a problem. He said in the Dillard case specifically, there was no investigation after the crime was committed.

Barankin did acknowledge that, in the wake of this case and the federal investigation at Corcoran, a number of changes have been implemented both by the Legislature and the Department of Corrections. Besides the new inspector general position, new shooting policies have been implemented at all state prison facilities.

Still, Barankin conceded, the new policies are not a guarantee that this will never happen again: "You can investigate until you're blue in the face, but you still have the question of who prosecutes it." Barankin said local district attorneys would normally prosecute these cases, but that in the small counties where most state prisons are located, "to accept one of these cases would eat up everybody you have in the place, plus every red cent you've got to get one of these cases to court." The local D.A. could hand the case off to the attorney general, but Barankin said by the time that happens, usually "the A.G.'s office comes in to pull together the pieces. D.A.s have their own investigators" who work closely with local police right after the crime is reported. "It remains to be seen if this new inspector general will work the same way."

While prisoners' rights activists sympathized with Barankin, they blamed Lockyer's office -- specifically deputy attorney general Vern Pierson -- for botching the prosecution. They say the state's strategy failed to make the code of silence and culture of terror at Corcoran central issues in the case.

Based on his research of California jails and prisons, Quinn said the "Booty Bandit" trial was about much more than the fate of four prison guards. "Clearly, part of what was on trial here was the guards' code of silence, the power of the CCPOA and the culture of terror that defines life in California's maximum security prisons," he said.

Quinn acknowledged that much of that was impossible to pursue in court when Judge Louis Bissig disallowed conspiracy charges brought against the four guards. "Our hands were tied by some of the judge's rulings and the fact that it took five years for this crime to surface and be prosecuted," Pierson told the Los Angeles Times. "And it's never easy when your best witnesses of what really happened are felons and officers who have committed [crimes] themselves."

That sentiment was echoed by Barankin. "Having the conspiracy charges thrown out by the judge was gigantic. That can't be quantified," he said. But Barankin conceded that "there were all sorts of places along the way where things fell apart."

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