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District attorneys rarely bring criminal charges against police for civilian deaths, and the Sonoma County DA is no exception. In fact, the Sonoma County DA has not brought criminal charges in any of the police death cases in the last 10 years -- even though four civil lawsuits are pending in connection with those deaths.
Police use-of-force expert William Geller says DAs are disinclined to prosecute police because of the difficulty in proving criminal wrongdoing "beyond a reasonable doubt" when the defendant is a law enforce-ment officer.
Jurors tend to believe police. Witnesses to a shooting are often other cops, who will stick to a police officer's version of events out of loyalty to one of their own. Non-police witnesses are often less than upstanding citizens, whose testimonies are hardly convincing. And sometimes the only witnesses to a shooting are the dead victim and the officer involved.
Geller adds that district attorneys are, generally speaking, less than enthusiastic about prosecuting police because prosecutors must rely on the police department to get convictions.
"The prosecutor is highly dependent on the police to provide evidence to convict accused criminals, and therefore needs a very good relationship with the local police force," says Geller. "The district attorney has to make a judgment whether prosecuting a police officer is worth upsetting the apple cart."
Critics say that the district attorney and police agencies of Sonoma County are, indeed, close. Many employees of both offices are longtime public servants who have known each other for years. Many of the law enforcement officers have spent their entire careers in Sonoma County, transferring between agencies, but always working with the same district attorney's office.
Despite the high occurrence of police shootings, Santa Rosa city officials insist that each of the cases was justified. Police Chief Michael Dunbaugh knows what it's like to shoot a civilian: He shot and killed a man while he was an officer with the Santa Cruz Police Department.
Dunbaugh refuses to call seven shootings in 10 years a trend: "From an academic perspective and statistically, it's not a trend." He has a different explanation for the numbers. Even though crime rates in Santa Rosa are down, Dunbaugh says police are finding themselves in more dangerous situations.
"Calls for service are going up, contacts are up. Officers are increasingly having to make 'shoot/don't shoot' decisions," says Dunbaugh. "Officers are running into more people who are armed and combative every week, no question."
Santa Rosa Assistant City Attorney Brien Farrell is the Police Department's legal representative in matters regarding use of force. He cites studies suggesting that there is an increased national incidence of "suicide by police officer," a term of art among law enforcement officials.
"Over the last six to 12 months, we've had a rash of incidents in Santa Rosa where individuals have provoked police into shooting them," explains Farrell. "These individuals all wanted to die."
Dale Robbins walked into the lobby of the Santa Rosa Police Department at 3 a.m. one morning last January; it was four days after his 40th birthday. He wanted to see "the Mormon police sergeant" -- the sergeant who shared his secret, that the police, the FBI, and the Mafia were working with aliens in a plot to conquer the planet Earth.
Robbins asked the woman at the desk if he could speak to "the Mormon officer," but could provide neither a name nor a description of the person he was seeking. He then asked to see any other police officer, and left as the woman called to relay Robbins' request. She told dispatchers Robbins was acting strangely.
Subsequently, three officers found Robbins in the parking lot in front of the police station, sitting in his red pickup, staring blankly at the dashboard. Robbins mumbled that he was there to see the Mormon officer.
After police searched Robbins and his truck for weapons, Sgt. Jim Carlson told Robbins he would have to leave and return during business hours. A records check had revealed that Robbins had a history of mental illness. But that morning he seemed calm, so the officers did not detain him. Robbins drove away.
An hour later, he came back and again asked to speak with a policeman. When Officer David Albritton came to the front counter to talk with him, Robbins pointed a long, heavy metal rod -- a "Club" steering wheel lock -- at the officer.
Robbins ignored orders to put the rod down, and began shuffling his feet, shaking his head rapidly from side to side. Albritton extended his baton, to distance himself from Robbins and prod Robbins to obey and put down the Club. But Robbins wouldn't drop it.
Carlson, who had dealt with Robbins earlier, came to the lobby to back Albritton up; Albritton, meanwhile, was holding the man at bay with his baton, warning him that he would use pepper spray if he did not drop the Club. Officer Carrie McConville had arrived in the lobby too, but she was off duty and unarmed.
Events escalated quickly. Carlson pepper-sprayed Robbins after he refused to drop the Club and moved toward the officer. Even after a dose of pepper spray, and after Albritton had hit Robbins on the leg with the baton, Robbins continued to hold the Club.
Carlson was surprised Albritton hadn't drawn his firearm. The pepper spray hadn't seemed to do anything to Robbins. So when the man stepped toward him, Carlson shot Robbins three times in the chest.
In an interview, Carlson later said Robbins had taken a swing at him with the club, which he was holding with a baseball grip.
"I'm scared to death. Think he's gonna hit me with the thing," he said in police reports. "And I figured the only way I'm gonna be able t'protect myself is to, is to shoot him."
