Gone Glanz

The World gives ousted sheriff a goodbye hug

It wasn’t that bad of a week, all things considered, for outgoing Tulsa Sheriff Stanley Glanz.

Oh, sure, there was this:

One of the misdemeanor charges against Glanz was refusal to perform his official duty because he refused to release a 2009 internal report that found that Bates had received preferential treatment regarding his duties as a reserve deputy.

And this:

He was also charged with willful violation of the law because he took a stipend for use of a personal vehicle while using a county vehicle.

And of course this: 

Sheriff Stanley Glanz resigned after a grand jury on Wednesday returned two criminal indictments against him …

Considering how he had morphed of late into something resembling Boss Hogg and Buford T. Justice, it could have been worse. He could have been led away in handcuffs to the hoosegow.

Let the hagiography begin.

A series of embarrassing revelations — starting with the April 2 fatal shooting of a suspect by 73-year-old Reserve Deputy Robert Bates during an undercover gun buy — undercut Glanz’s reputation. … 

From the Bates shooting forward, Glanz’s reputation slowly unraveled. We won’t replay the details, but the overwhelming public perception was that the sheriff’s office lacked meaningful leadership, that Glanz was asleep at the wheel. … 

In his announcement, Glanz said he takes responsibility for all the decisions he made or that were made in his name, adding that they were all made in good faith. We accept that.

That editorial—more of a hug—came from the Tulsa World, which set the bar so low on understanding and forgiveness, it would take a spelunker to find it. 

Let’s start with the headline: Tulsa County Sheriff Stanley Glanz to step down, a sad but necessary move.

Sad? Really, that’s your takeaway from this?

Further, fatal shooting is inside the em dash and subordinate to the phrase embarrassing revelations? Astonishing. 

Let’s review.

This was not simply a matter of gassing up the personal SUV with the company credit card. A man, Eric Harris, was shot dead because an elderly friend of Glanz who was put on the force by Glanz couldn’t tell his Taser from his gun.

Further, Bates not only donated multiple vehicles and thousands of dollars to the department, he was Glanz’s campaign manager in 2012. 

But we’re not going to replay the details.   

From having a personal lawyer who was also a department lawyer who was also Bates’ lawyer, to overpaid home appraisers (some related to that same lawyer), to a No-rich-elderly-crime-fighter-left behind deputy training program, to reports that Glanz had ordered his subordinates not to cooperate with the investigation, the sheriff’s office had turned into Arrow Trucking. But all the decisions were made in good faith.

We accept that.

The gob, it is smacked.

There was also mendacity and Terry Simonson through it all.

But I repeat myself.

“I feel pretty comfortable. I believe the efforts by We the People were driven more by anger. We never believed there were any substantial grounds for such drastic measures as to remove the sheriff.”

Thanks, Carnac, and yes, they were driven by anger. People get that way when an unarmed man is shot to death by a deputy sheriff who should still be selling insurance. People get that way when another deputy says to the dying man, “Fuck your breath.” People get that way when their pursuit of justice is questioned because they have snacks on the petition table.

Sheriff’s Office spokesman Terry Simonson, a practicing attorney, said he believes the hot dogs were “inducements to get signatures.”

Why do they let this man in the building?

(While we’re on the subject, would it have killed the Tulsa World, in all the months it was allowing Simonson to spew his certitude, to mention that he was and is on the paper’s Community Advisory Board?) 

So now we have a job opening for elections set for March and April.

Two of the announced candidates so far: 

John Fitzpatrick, a reserve officer for the Tulsa Police Department for 10 years, thinks the solution to the sheriff’s office is what Republicans always think the solution is.

“The citizens are shareholders in this case, and they have a right to know everything,” Fitzpatrick said. “Run it like a business is my platform, because that’s what it is.”

Oh, for the love of asset forfeitures, you really see policing and law enforcement as a business? Just what we need: a sheriff’s office that makes a profit. How better to foster community good will?   

Jim Rice, former Oologah police chief and a man—you can’t make this stuff up—who also served in Mounds as the sergeant in charge of the K-9 Unit, wonders why we can’t just all get along?

“Why do we have to have all this hate and contempt among whites and blacks? It’s really stupid.”

Eric Harris, Eric Garner, Michael Brown, John Crawford, Tamir Rice, Walter Scott, Dante Parker, wanna take this one?  

I went to see Drew Diamond, former Tulsa chief of police, to ask his thoughts on all this. 

“At the end of the day, it’s a bureaucratic organization that is complex,” he says of TCSO. “And it has to be led, and it has to be managed.”

So what about Glanz? 

“Clearly, by his own admission, the sheriff said he didn’t pay attention. Well, part of leadership is paying attention, and the damage that’s been done in terms of relationships with Tulsa’s black community has been immense. There’s been ongoing issues of racially biased policing in Tulsa, and this tragedy exacerbated it. The trust level is really low. And crimes aren’t prevented or solved without that trusting relationship between the communities and deputies who serve them.”

This crime. This tragedy. 

“The part of the story being missed is, it wasn’t just an oops. It wasn’t just, ‘Okay, bad things happen,’ and we now deal with it, the sheriff leaves, we have a grand jury, we get a new sheriff. The underlying issues about how we are policed and how that function is led is important.”

And when it comes to criminal justice and policing and diverse communities, here’s the money shot.

“You know, not everything is about race, but then everything is about race.”

One example.

“Listen, the sheriff’s department for years—until the federal program ends this year—has been making lots of money by keeping 150 beds operating just for undocumented workers who are picked up on minor charges, because the feds pay premium dollars to keep them in jail. That has really upset and angered the Hispanic community in this city. So, yeah, the sheriff’s department has done some long-term damage.”

It’s the ancillary business, too. 

“The stuff with the reserve deputy training program—this is not a new issue. Anyone could have looked inside. Same thing with the assessors. That stuff has been there for years, but there’s nothing exciting or interesting enough until it becomes part of the larger fabric that leads to a tragedy. Just because you’re allowed, due to some strange legal opening, to do patronage, should you do it? My answer is no. Don’t do it. Turn it over to where it’s supposed to be done—the assessor’s office. And if the money flows there, it flows there. A sheriff should be able to say, ‘It’s technically legal—about allowing your attorney’s family, for instance—but it smells bad. I’m not doing it.’”

And then Diamond says it again.

“That’s leadership.”

And then there’s this:

In all, 17 inmates have died from a combination of suicide and natural causes while in the custody of the Tulsa Jail since 2009, according to records from the state Health Department.

Oops.

Amidst the crimes and misdemeanors, the arrogance and falsified records, the decay of community relationships and the tone-deaf pronouncements, TCSO was a fiefdom that predictably imploded.

Tulsa now lives with the residue.

And Eric Harris is still dead.

For more from Barry, read his article on Richard Glossip's postponed execution.