I make my return to writing here with some rather intriguing news of criminal harassment by the Lexington Police on several levels. My ‘vacation’ was not by choice but rather by cyber-attack. After my campaign bringing up implications of murder committed by Lexington Police officers and the coincidental death of an officer on the job during that time I was sent a virus. The virus and a key-logger attack were done to my computer by way of a Facebook invite by a member of the slain officer’s family and the key-logger attack came straight from the Lexington Police Department forensics department. More recently, my articles here bringing attention to racism and corruption in the local court system invited more cyber-attacks. I will continue to fight against corruption in government and to bring you all of the information; the truth no matter where that leads.
Recently, I received a letter I had requested from Pleas Lucian Kavanaugh describing the police corruption and harassment he has gone through in Lexington. His story is identical to mine and others. The stories just take place with different people in different places but the patterns are the same. Lexington has a fraternity type of police force that has gotten away with too much for too long and now believes it can do as it pleases to anyone it chooses.
Please listen to this plea from Pleas Lucian Kavanaugh and do what you can to help him. Feel free to contact me with any information you might have to help his case, my past cases or the murder of Deborah Wardlaw. Confidentiality, as always, is assured.
Pleas Lucian Kavanaugh:
While it might be beyond my ability to convey a respectable version of my dilemma in this small allotment, I wish to emphasize from the onset that the affects of what has happened to me cannot be understated and that if this account is somewhat beyond the standard length, it is so for the depth of the actions taken against me by a power well beyond my capacity to contend with.
As such, I would implore that my circumstance be given attentive and thorough consideration as I am, quite literally, under the most oppressive and sweltering attack at the hands of the Lexington Police Department; an attack which I fear will not end until either I have been unjustly incarcerated, murdered or until such time as responsible parties are held accountable for a most egregious affront to liberty, justice and all things idealized by civilized humanity.
Let the facts be submitted to an impartial eye.
In November of 2004, just prior to my 25th birthday, I was informed by a Detective Elizabeth Adams that I had been accused of sexual misconduct by a classmate and was charged with felony rape and sodomy. After 2 ½ years and multiple plea offerings, the matter would be settled rather succinctly by jury trial with my innocence affirmed.
Prior to the resolution of that matter, in the fall of 2005, on the 1st of November around 2am, I was enjoying the holiday festivities with two friends when three Caucasian men pulled to a stop light near our parked car and began shouting racial slurs. When a member of my party replied, the men parked and approached us; one with an over-sized wrench in hand. By some miracle, we managed to avert a physical altercation then, but encountered the same group again later, just a few blocks away. Our parties exchanged insults, momentarily, before a police cruiser, approaching distantly, compelled us to resume our course none the worse for wear.
Not to be deterred, the cruiser followed my party until an officer, a lady by the name of Jacquelyn Richardson, hopped out and demanded the three of us to sit on the curb. I politely explained to her that while we would be glad to answer any of her questions, we would not be inclined to sit for the sake of it being soaking wet but most importantly for the sake of our dignity as we had done nothing to justify her subordination.
Before I could finish the sentence, she responded by grabbing my arm, an act she would later qualify as an attempted arrest. As I demanded an explanation, another officer, by the name of David Boroschik, approached me from behind and began choking me. Before I knew it, I would be body-slammed and nearly suffocated, squealing desperately for passersby to witness the event. To accentuate my humiliation, Officer Richardson aimed a bottle of mace as I lay helpless and threatened one of my friends with the same fate as he attempted to shield my eyes from its stream.
At the end of the night, I was bloody and battered and charged with resisting arrest, disorderly conduct and alcohol intoxication. It would take two trial attempts to resolve the matter, as the first resulted in mistrial after Richardson was discovered conversing with a jury member, a clear violation of my right to a fair trial. But the second attempt proved successful and eye witness testimonies would later corroborate my account. In what would be the first of several of my trials, I was acquitted of all charges.
At which point I filed a 1983 action against Lexington Fayette Urban County Government, effectively inciting the most tumultuous period of my life as members of the police department began targeting me for any and every crime they could imagine, contrive or invent.
Some three days after I gave a deposition in my attorney’s office, at which Officer Richardson was present, she spotted me exiting a club with friends. Accompanied by several other officers, they isolated me and inevitably arrested me for disorderly conduct and alcohol intoxication under the pretense that I was speaking too loudly. When a trial date was set during horse sales, my public defender requested an extension citing that two of my witnesses would be unable to attend as they were involved in the horse industry working as blacksmiths. The request was denied. Against an all white jury, stripped of all support, I was convicted on both charges even as a recording, provided by the police, featured nothing more than a heated conversation on the night in question.
On one occasion leading up to that trial, I was represented by a public defender from another county, Rhonda Atkins, for a status conference. She introduced herself and explained that my usual representative had taken maternity leave, and then excused herself to converse with the prosecutor. After a short time, she returned, seeming slightly perturbed and told me that while she could hardly believe what had just happened, the prosecutor had suggested she neglect my case as I was, suing everyone over this. I thanked Ms. Atkins for her honesty. And though we resumed a rather routine day in court, the implications of her warning have resounded throughout my entire experience with the legal system in Lexington.
I was once arrested for alcohol intoxication while speaking on a payphone. When I asked the officer why he’d engaged me in the first place, he claimed that I fit the description of a suspect in the area. When the citation described the suspect as black, male, with a jacket, the charge was quietly dismissed the following day.
On another occasion, I was approached by a familiar officer, while observing a fistfight, and told that I was no longer allowed to witness the incident. When I explained to the officer that he did not have the authority to prohibit me from merely witnessing an incident, he responded to the effect that his authority over me was without limit and that he would be obliged to prove the point if I was inclined to let him. I remained undeterred and was promptly arrested. Incidentally, the arresting officer had been accompanied by one David Boroschik, the same officer who had nearly killed me a few years earlier. Disappointed by my experiences with impotent public defenders, I opted to represent myself in the matter. After some minor haggling with the prosecutor, the case was dismissed.
In the following years, my experience with local police became characterized by one frivolous arrest after another until my rap sheet had mutated into a curious litany of charges, dismissals and acquittals; the story of my oppression common knowledge to most downtown Lexingtonians. I was even once warned by a police officer friend that claimed to have overheard other officers discussing me. He admonished me to be careful, but when I requested suggestions, only shrugged and flaccidly advised that I avoid being caught alone with the police if at all possible.
A disagreement with my civil attorney regarding the manner of handling my case, namely that I felt the various incidents should be strung together in the lawsuit to demonstrate a pattern of harassment, led to our separation and I began representing myself in federal court, pro se, while actively pursuing more proactive and competent representation.
Meanwhile, a settlement conference ordered by Federal Judge Jennifer Coffman was wholly unproductive when the negotiation was deemed to be not in good faith, by defense attorney, Carolyn Zerga, when I refused to settle for a monetary amount of less than $5,000. Finally, I found an attorney in Louisville upon a friends suggestion. Months later, my spirits would plummet to an unprecedented low upon discovering that my case had been dismissed without prejudice citing failure to prosecute. Attempts to obtain a satisfactory explanation from my attorney were less than successful, but he later informed me that his attempts to revive the effort in court were equally unproductive.
Injustice notwithstanding, I must admit that a part of me welcomed the prospect of not having to deal with police in court or on the street or in any other part of the veritable nightmare that had become my life. I had assumed that, at the very least, I would be able to live unencumbered as the police would have no further motivation to harass me. And then, on the afternoon of December 8th, 2009, a former employer informed me that I was, once again, the subject of a police investigation.
According to the police, someone had attempted to kidnap a pregnant woman at the downtown transit center several days before. According to the investigating detective, Elizabeth Adams, the very same officer who had failed in her attempt to incarcerate me several years prior, the suspect fit my description without question. Adding insult to injury, I was also flippantly charged with an unsolved robbery which had taken place in late October. As an aside, Detective Adams would later acknowledge, in her preliminary hearing testimony, that I had not been a suspect in either crime until she had become personally involved.
In the coming days, I would become the subject of an intense manhunt by the police and US Marshals which involved scouring my Facebook page to locate the names of my associates, some of whom I had not seen in years, and invading their homes and their parents’ homes; interrogating patrons of downtown businesses which I was known to frequent and even threatening people with prosecution should they assist me in the acquisition of a private attorney. Perhaps most disparagingly, I was featured in several televised editions of Crimestoppers, in which I was characterized as armed and dangerous and alleged to have been previously convicted of sexual assault.
A motion for discovery would later reveal that in both the robbery and the attempted kidnapping, the suspect(s) stood approximately 6?4?? tall. I stand at 5?10??. In both instances, the assailant was said to have a military-style crew cut I have suffered from male pattern baldness for the better part of a decade and am unable to grow hair. In the transit center incident, the suspect was said to have gold teeth. With all due respect, I have donned gold teeth not one day of my life.
Repeated attempts to obtain video evidence from the transit center security system have been remarkably unsuccessful. To this day, no person acting on my behalf has seen a video of any crime occurring in the early afternoon on December 8th despite the 16 cameras littered throughout the facility. Finally, it was my good fortune to have been in the company of my landlord, on the morning in question, as he repaired my broken heater.
When the suspect in the robbery incident was alleged to have left DNA evidence, I offered a sample of my own genetic material to squelch the issue. After several weeks, inquiries regarding the DNA were ignored until a prosecutor alleged to have had no knowledge of any genetic examination whatsoever. There is little question that the DNA evidence has mysteriously disappeared because the results were exculpatory to the defense.
Detective Adams admitted to my lawyer, during my interrogation, that I had not been identified using a photo array or a lineup, but that she had personally identified me from a composite sketch and then shown a single photo of me to the victims in both incidents. When my attorney asked her repeatedly whether she had used an array or a single photo, she reiterated several times that she had not used a lineup, but had relied on her personal identification of me from a composite sketch to make the ID. It was only when my attorney expressed some dismay at the admission that she became reserved and refused further questioning.
At the preliminary hearing, when my attorney asked again about how she’d arrived at a positive identification, she quickly produced a lineup and recanted her previous story. After some debate, she explained that there must have been some misunderstanding at the interrogation and that she’d used a lineup all along. Not surprisingly, all attempts to obtain the interrogation tape have been unsuccessful. As per this writing, both matters are still pending despite the host of startling inconsistencies in the evidence.
In March, I was referred to as Mr. Celebrity, by a downtown beat cop patrolling my neighborhood, forced out of a friend’s car, threatened with a taser and arrested essentially for refusing to relinquish my digital tape recorder.
To continue recounting my own personal experience with police misconduct and brutality and abuse would be an effortless, if extensive, task despite that many might find it hard to fathom the essence of my plea.
Just prior to my 25th birthday, I had never been charged with any crime beyond a traffic violation. Subsequent to filing a lawsuit against the City of Lexington, I have been arrested more times than I can count, the overwhelming majority of which have resulted in dismissals or acquittals. And while some might suggest those results to be evidence of a healthy judicial process, my so-called victories have come at the cost of my social standing, my morale, and very nearly my sanity. I am the hostage of a system which aims to effectively barrage me with accusations so libelous and corrosive and expensive that I no longer function within the parameters of a normal life.
My existence is now subsidized expressly by the charity of loved ones as no person in this economy, or any other, has a prayer of obtaining meaningful employment as a perpetually pending felon. I am a sideshow, criticized as a nuisance by police and judges alike; a pariah, ostracized for the continual fear of an impending tide of blue uniforms; men and women parading under the guise of public service, but motivated with the real intention of draining my fortitude until I am but a shell of my former self, tortured inside a cell or better cold within a grave.
I am the victim of a state sanctioned mob with virtually no incentive to refrain from abusing me. I am a word to the wise; the decapitated head; that warning against even the thought of challenging the local establishment. And to this very day, the police continue to violate my rights as a minority, as a citizen and as a human being. They have pilfered my liberty, smothered my happiness, and I have little doubt that in due time they will even end my life.
It is for these reasons that I petition your support in the acquisition of competent legal representation to fight the grave injustices done against me and to help publicize the rampant abuses of authority taking place in Lexington, Kentucky. I seek criminal representation to defend against the latest string of bogus charges brought against me as well as proactive civil representation to hold the city and all appropriate civil officials accountable for crimes against the constitution. It is my belief that the truth resides with the domain of public scrutiny and that such abuses persist when those who would transgress against freedom are allowed to revel in obscurity. It is with no small hope that I implore your concurrence, your sympathies and your resources.
Pleas Lucian Kavanaugh
The cyber-attacks on my computers may have slowed me down but they gave me time to investigate and write more articles. I will be continuing to update you on these issues while introducing some new subjects over the next few days. Please feel free to comment, make suggestions and pass this story on to others.