“GET YOUR FUCKING hands up, you fucking pervert! Shut the FUCK up! If I
have to take you to the station, it won't be pleasant!”
Paul Yates couldn't see the officer who screamed these words. He was
facing his car, his arms stretched before him. The officer stood behind
Yates - so close that Yates could feel the guy's breath on his neck. The
officer's voice rang in his ears. " You fucking pervert, " he shouted. "
There are kids here. "
A second officer charged toward Yates with such speed that Yates
flinched - expecting to feel the heavy blow of the man's fist in his face.
The officer's blazing eyes met Yates's. " There are so many fucking kids
in there, " the officer yelled. He spit out his words - drool landed on
Yates's shirt. " I've got kids too. You know, I'm going to fucking kill
you. "
So what had Yates done to provoke this behavior? Flashed a child?
Lurked suspiciously around a school playground? Nope. Yates, an artist who
has just completed his first feature-length film and has exhibited his
photographs at galleries in New England, had stripped off his clothes in a
photo booth at Dorchester's Boston Bowl, a bowling alley open 24 hours a
day on Morrissey Boulevard, to take pictures of himself. He was blocked
from public view by a curtain, as well as two friends who stood guard
outside and had moved a trash can in front of the booth to obstruct the
view of Yates's feet. The officers did not catch Yates in the flesh. They
found one of the photographs after the fact. For this, they detained and
threatened him for approximately 45 minutes. Twenty of those minutes were
spent outside on a bitterly cold February night at around 10 p.m. - a time
when most kids are at home.
Eventually, after telling him he was under arrest - twice - the
officers let Yates go without explanation. Not that Yates needs one. He
knows these officers detained him for the sole purpose of scaring him -
and it worked.
THROUGHOUT THE ordeal, Yates believed he was being terrorized by Boston
Police officers. He learned otherwise the following day, when he contacted
Boston Bowl to ask for the officers' names. He wanted to file a complaint.
He asked to speak to the manager and was referred to Paul Fabienski. Yates
says he left a voice-mail message with Fabienski. Later that day, Yates
left another message. In fact, he says he left at least six of them. It
wasn't until Yates enlisted the help of a lawyer friend who had worked on
his film projects that he was able to reach Fabienski, who directed all
questions to the parent company of the bowling alley, Bay Colony
Associates. (Fabienski declined to comment for this article.) The lawyer
then contacted Philip Strazzula, who is one of the three owners of the
entertainment complex that includes Boston Bowl, two hotels, and three
restaurants. Bay Colony Associates also operates the security division
licensed to employ special officers to patrol these establishments.
When the Phoenix contacted Strazzula, he confirmed that the incident
had occurred. Yet he disputed Yates's charge of harassment, describing the
special officers as " experienced men " who are " not your rent-a-cop type
" and who would " never " treat someone in the manner alleged by Yates.
Still, Strazzula declined to allow the Phoenix to interview the officers,
or to see a report of the incident that he says they filed with the
security department. He also refused to reveal the officers' identities.
Strazzula insists that he'd be " more than happy " to listen to Yates, but
that Yates has never contacted him directly. Even though he says he's
never spoken with Yates, he implies that the artist deserved what he got.
" It seems to me like he did something wrong here, " the owner claims. " I
don't get what his beef is.... If these officers really wanted to be tough
on him, they could have arrested him. "
In short, Strazzula concludes, " I'd consider myself lucky to get off.
"
All of which raises the question: where is the accountability? The
so-called special officer is part of a shadow force that's governed by
Rule 400 of the Boston Police Department policy handbook. Special officers
are licensed by the city and state police, yet hired and fired by private
security companies. They wear badges and distinctive uniforms; some of
them carry guns. Their patrols are confined to private property - banks,
stores, and hotels - within certain areas. They can arrest people, but
cannot transport them. In essence, special officers are glorified security
guards - they rank right above the mall cop on the totem pole of law
enforcement.
They are not the only special officers in town, either. The city itself
employs a corps of special officers, called the Boston Municipal Police,
to whom it grants police powers - and who have come under fire recently
because of the high-profile shooting death of Ricky Bodden last December.
Bodden was gunned down in a Dorchester park by Officer Kyle Wilcox, who
says he fired after Bodden pulled out a gun. Activists, though, question
the shooting's legitimacy based on the fatal wound's location - the back
of Bodden's neck. Last week, protesters delivered a letter to Suffolk
County district attorney Ralph Martin demanding an inquest.
The Bodden controversy shows that accountability for special officers
may not come easily - but at least the Municipal Police are city
employees. The Yates situation, on the other hand, lays bare what can
happen when special officers have no apparent public oversight.
This time, they picked on an artist. Next time, it could be you.
IT WAS Yates's art that brought him to Boston Bowl last February. The
33-year-old from Stamford, Connecticut, has a habit of hunting down photo
booths in every city he visits - be it at a mall in Chicago, a novelty
shop in Manhattan, or a train station in Florence, Italy. He spends as
much as $25 on photo booths per week, taking anywhere from eight to 20
pictures. All told, he estimates that he has about 5000 such photographs -
a number of which have been shown at the Stamford Museum and New York
University's Tisch Photo Gallery. His work is anything but conventional.
In each shot, he aims, he says, to " push the boundaries of the medium "
beyond the typical kid-with-goofy-face image. He has done everything
imaginable in a photo booth: built dioramas, dressed in costume, made
still-life portraits. He's even staged elaborate tales: Flash. Yates is
stuck on a roller coaster. Flash. Yates climbs a rope. Flash. Yates's head
explodes, then oozes beans, ketchup, mayonnaise, and shaving cream.
Many such images have been created here in Boston - at the
Dorchester-based Boston Bowl. The bowling alley's photo booth made Yates's
A-list almost as soon as he discovered it three years ago. For starters,
the Boston Bowl booth represents one of just two machines in the city that
develop color pictures. (The Boston Children's Museum owns the other.)
Secondly, it offers a strip of four photos for relatively cheap - $3 per
strip, compared to $5 per picture at the CambridgeSide Galleria, in
Cambridge. Best of all, Boston Bowl stays open 24 hours a day. And so,
explains Yates, " I can make art when the inspiration hits me - even at
two in the morning. "
On February 21, inspiration happened to strike at a more reasonable
hour. Earlier that blustery day, Yates had arranged to drop off copies of
his feature film, Porno, a PG-13 comedy about Christmas Eve in a porn
shop, with Boston producers. (Yates recently finished his movie after two
years' worth of filming in the city, at an adult-entertainment store on
Boylston Street; he also directed a short independent film called Space
Water Onion.) Before leaving Stamford, he dialed up two fellow photo-booth
aficionados, Krissy Mendonco and Elisha Foley. He had just purchased a
clear plastic fishbowl-like mirror, the kind that truckers fasten on rear
windows to widen their sight lines. Yates suggested they all meet at their
favorite photo booth at 8:30 p.m. to experiment.
As they tried out the mirror, the three grew more and more excited. "
This changed our whole concept of space, " recalls Mendonco, a 21-year-old
student at Massachusetts College of Art. For the first time, these
photographers could see almost their entire bodies within the picture's
frame, rather than just their heads. For them, she adds, " this was a real
breakthrough. "
Yates puts it more bluntly, " We'd crossed the limited boundaries of
the photo-booth machine.... We were like painters who find a new color. "
Yet it wasn't long before Yates would inadvertently cross another
boundary. Thirty minutes and 20 pictures later, he was standing in the
photo booth when he got the idea to make what he calls a " more organic "
shot of himself. He stripped off his shirt and shoes. He took his picture
in jeans. Then he thought he'd make the perfect self-portrait: he'd go
nude. He shared his idea with Mendonco and Foley.
" I told him, 'Go for it,' " recalls Foley, 21, who plays bass guitar
for the fledgling rock band Janke.
But first, Yates took precautions. He asked his friends to pull over an
industrial garbage can and place it in front of the booth's curtain, which
shrouds an adult only above the knees. They then held the curtain shut. "
I didn't want to be seen, " Yates says. " I couldn't see out of the booth.
Nobody could see in. "
What happened next lasted a matter of seconds. Yates grabbed a
translucent bag from the trash can. He put the bag over his body, then
dropped his pants to his knees. He feigned a dead expression. The image
resembled that of a corpse in a body bag. Yates then decided to pose naked
again - this time in a fetal position, much like the famous picture of a
nude John Lennon wrapped around Yoko Ono.
While Yates was in the booth, Mendonco noticed Boston Bowl staff
members pointing at her and Foley. " I said, 'Oh no,' " Mendonco recounts,
" 'we've attracted attention.' " Soon, Yates, still behind the curtain,
heard a gruff voice: You'd better not be taking naked pictures in there.
His friends replied, " We're not, officer. " The flash popped. Yates had
taken three strips of naked photos. He quickly slipped on his clothes, and
then hurried out of the booth - only to find two officers backing Mendonco
and Foley up against the wall.
To Yates and his friends, these men looked like any other police
officers: they wore dark shirts, as well as dark pants with a red stripe
along the side. They had badges and radios. The first officer was short
and stocky. He had a near-shaved head and a brown goatee. The second was
taller and lankier, and had sand-colored hair styled in a mullet.
According to the three artists, the first officer, whom Yates now calls
" the aggressor, " spotted the 20 photographs nestled in Mendonco's purse,
which was lying open beside the booth. He grabbed the stack out of her bag
- a move that could be considered an illegal seizure, according to
civil-liberties attorneys. After that, Mendonco says, the officer said he
needed to see the pictures. He then warned the trio that if he found a
naked photo, he would arrest them all.
Flipping through the stack, the officer held up the photograph of Yates
in the makeshift body bag. A flush of anger swept across his face, Yates
recalls. " The officer screamed, 'You fucking pervert! You're naked in a
photo booth.' He told me to get my hands up. He said, 'You're under arrest
for public indecency.' "
At this point, according to Rule 400, these officers should have
immediately called Boston Police to take over at the scene. Special
officers have the power to detain someone, but cannot take a prisoner into
custody or book an arrest.
But that's not what happened. Yates says he tried to explain that he is
a photo-booth photographer, that he had taken the naked picture for
artistic purposes - for himself only.
According to Yates, the officer ordered him to shut up and again called
him a " fucking pervert. " The officer was getting angrier and angrier. He
leaned into Yates, who says the officer then shouted: There are fucking
kids in here. I have three kids, and if I were here with them ...
Yates says he explained to the officer that he wasn't doing anything
with children, but that the officer had one general response: " Shut up,
pervert. "
It wasn't until the second officer approached - and calmly yet
forcefully stated, " I have kids too " - that Yates became frightened. He
could no longer see Mendonco and Foley, he says, nor could he see the
crowd that they say had gathered around the booth. All he could see was
the red, taut faces of these two officers, who he says kept repeating the
same things: You fucking pervert. There are kids in here. I have kids.
To Yates their reaction seemed irrational, oddly personal: " These guys
weren't just trying to scare me. They got so frustrated over the image of
a naked man. To me, they weren't cops anymore. They were goons, bullies. "
The officers' response also startled Foley, who says she and Mendonco
were scolded for associating with " a disgusting pervert " and ordered off
the premises. " They were shaking, they were so angry, " she says. " I was
blown away. "
Mendonco, too, was confounded. Nearly three years earlier, she had
gotten into trouble with an officer at Boston Bowl when she and three
friends had pretended to unbutton their pants for the camera. In that
instance, however, the officer ordered them not to return to the bowling
alley. After Mendonco appealed to Boston Bowl's Strazzula by showing him
her portfolio of photo-booth pictures, she was allowed to return. Mendonco
couldn't understand why these officers didn't just kick Yates off the
property, as they had done with her. She observes, " Paul is a giant geek,
but they were treating him like he was this creepy man. "
She adds, " These cops decided they were going to keep Paul to harass
him. " She says she and Foley were under the impression that the special
officers were Boston cops, and so it never occurred to either to call the
police to end the harassment. She concludes, " They were deliberately
torturing him - we figured that out almost right away. "
Indeed. It would be at least 20 minutes before the officers escorted
Yates to his car to get his identification - presumably, to complete the
arrest. But once outside, Yates endured another 20 minutes' worth of
harassment, during which his physical well-being, even his life, was
repeatedly threatened. Says Yates, " These officers kept saying things
like 'If I have to take you to the station, I will drop you.' I don't know
what 'dropping' means, but it doesn't sound good. " All told, about 45
minutes passed - each one full of profanities and threats - before the
officers alerted the manager, Fabienski. " The manager said, 'You can't
come in here and take naked pictures. There are kids here,' " Yates
recalls. " I apologized. I kept saying, 'I'm sorry.' " Yates did not hear
Fabienski ask the officers not to press charges, but he adds, " I got that
impression. He said, 'Well, okay,' and walked back inside. " According to
the police log, not one call from Boston Bowl was placed to the Boston
Police Department that evening.
Eventually, the officers ordered Yates to " get the fuck out of here -
now! " Interestingly, they told Yates that they were keeping the naked
photograph they had grabbed out of Mendonco's purse as " evidence " for a
future arrest if he, or his two friends, stepped inside Boston Bowl
again.
According to Yates, the first officer then offered up one last threat.
You're so fucking lucky, Yates recalls him saying. I don't care if you
tell my superiors. If I ever see you again, I will drop you. Now, run!
The following day, Yates, of course, did try to complain to the
officers' superiors - but couldn't even get his calls returned until his
lawyer got involved. He now says he intends to file a complaint with the
Boston Police Department. (The BPD Licensing Unit reports there were no
official complaints filed against special officers at Boston Bowl last
year. Figures for previous years were unavailable.) In the meantime, he's
haunted by the experience. The encounter left him numb for hours
afterward. His mind played like a broken record: he rehashed the events;
he fixated on the officers' faces. " It was odd, " he says. After all, he
had experienced run-ins with police officers before. Once, at 21, he'd
even been detained by a cop while walking to his aunt's house in an
affluent Connecticut suburb. He'd been wearing a kilt, and he knew the
unspoken reason for his stop: his appearance. The cop later released
Yates, yet the incident still agitated him.
But what happened February 21 seemed different. It's not as if Yates
had expected the officers to be nice, or to appreciate his art. He did,
however, expect them to behave like professionals. All told, Yates was
completely nude for a grand total of about 20 seconds. No one else saw
him. For this he was detained for 45 minutes and his life was threatened.
The more Yates considered the evening's events, the more wrong the
officers seemed to be.
As he puts it, " No one should be made to feel completely broken just
for taking a naked picture in a photo booth. "
IN FACT, it's unclear whether Yates even broke the law that night.
These officers may have believed that they could arrest him for public
indecency. But Yates's account of what happened - which Mendonco and Foley
both corroborate - suggests that such a charge would never stick. Boston
attorney Joe Kocuibes, who does pro bono work for the American Civil
Liberties Union, explains that just because Boston Bowl is a public place
doesn't mean that Yates's actions constitute public indecency. For one
thing, he says, an act must be out in the open - seen by other people - to
be considered public. The charge also requires exposure of the genitalia
and buttocks. In this case, however, Yates got naked in a private booth
cordoned off not only by a curtain, but also by a garbage can and two
friends. Adds Kocuibes, " Someone would have to explain to me what he did
in public to begin with. "
Professional police officers also question whether these officers had
enough factual evidence to charge Yates with public indecency. After all,
no one - including the officers - appears to have actually witnessed the
artist nude. One experienced Boston Police officer says, " He wasn't
necessarily breaking the law. I don't think [the officers] had enough to
charge him. "
Moreover, nudity doesn't necessarily amount to indecency - especially
when there's a question of artistic expression. Consider the case of
Spencer Tunick, the photographer known for taking elaborately posed
photographs of hundreds of naked models in settings like Central Park,
Times Square, and the Boston Public Library. In recent years, Tunick has
been arrested five times in New York City for violating its public-nudity
statute. Last year, he sued the administration - and won. A
federal-appeals-court judge ordered the city to allow him to photograph
because artistic expression, protected by the First Amendment, is exempt
from public-nudity laws.
But if Yates's crime seems debatable, the officers' unprofessional
conduct does not. Any reasonable officer, it seems, would have treated
Yates differently. Jennifer Levi, of the Boston-based Gay and Lesbian
Advocates and Defenders, points out that a " reasonable " officer would
have arrested Yates - immediately, and without the intimidation and
barrage of verbal assaults. Or he'd have warned the artist and told him to
get lost. In short, she says, a reasonable officer knows that he has no
right to abuse people, even those who break the law. " The whole situation
sounds disturbing, " Levi says. " It is inappropriate law enforcement. "
Kocuibes of the ACLU agrees: " These officers did not have the right to
verbally or otherwise abuse [Yates]. They sound like vigilante thugs to
me. "
Even the Boston Police officer admits that these " specials, " as
they're called, crossed the line. The officers' behavior, as he puts it, "
flies in the face of our rules on reasonable treatment. " Most
professional cops, he explains, know not to call a prisoner names, swear
at him, and threaten him. " If this is what really happened, " he adds, "
then they abused their power. "
Ultimately, the officer says, " these guys probably took what [Yates]
did personally. They might be morally offended that he was in a photo
booth taking a picture of his ass. " That would at least explain why these
officers judged Yates a " pervert " and possible pedophile. The problem is
that moral judgment doesn't fall under any officer's job description - and
for good reason. Observes Levi, " We trust law enforcement to act
consistent[ly] with the law. We don't want renegade posses that impose
their moral judgment on people. "
That, of course, speaks to why these officers' special status is so
bothersome. Lieutenant Paul Corboy, the supervisor of the BPD Licensing
Unit, defends the practice of having beefed-up private security guards in
the city. " The Boston Police Department cannot assign people to patrol
private property, " he says. Yet establishments such as theaters and
sports facilities often want police around for crowd control. Rather than
hire a Boston cop on detail, many of them employ their own guards - and
have them licensed largely because of accountability issues. Attests
Corboy, " A special officer helps an owner when it comes to liability,
[because] he has guards with some training. "
But there's still the risk of licensing rogue bullies. In the early
1990s, in fact, it didn't require much to become a special officer.
According to one Boston Police officer who worked as a special in 1994,
all he had to do to get his license was present an ID and a gun permit and
take a 10-question test. In 1996, the city evidently wised up to the
consequences of such loose requirements. Says the cop, " The city realized
it had a bunch of yahoos with guns out there arresting people. "
Today, an applicant must undergo what Corboy calls " minimal training "
before obtaining a license granting limited police powers. Special
officers who carry guns need to complete 160 hours of BPD-certified
instruction covering basic topics including first aid, constitutional law,
and appropriate use of force. They must learn how to handle a firearm.
They also take a 50-question written exam - the only aspect of training
administered by the Boston Police - that tests their knowledge of their
duties.
Though a special officer has to renew his license yearly, he does not
have to enroll in another instructional course. Compare that to the
requirements for a BPD officer, who must complete not only the
six-month-long police academy, but also annual in-service training
sessions. When asked if it's possible that specials are undertrained,
Corboy replies, " I suppose it is. "
But he also maintains that the current procedures ensure against the
specter of rent-a-cop thugs running roughshod over residents. People can
file complaints against special officers with the BPD, which will
investigate charges of misconduct. Violations may result in disciplinary
action, including license suspension and revocation. States Corboy, " We
should not have [special officers] out there if they don't conduct
themselves according to our standards. That is why we have these
regulations. "
Maybe so. But in the Yates case, the rules did not work. For all we
know, this treatment could be a regular occurrence at Boston Bowl.
Although no complaints have been filed in the last year with the Boston
Police, the Boston cop who used to be a special says the guards who work
at Boston Bowl are known within the special-officer community for being "
overly aggressive dicks. " What if they had actually seen Yates naked in
the photo booth? Or if they had found a gay man hugging his lover - or,
for that matter, anyone else who falls outside societal norms?
In reality, what happened to Yates probably isn't an isolated incident.
The public hears only about really bad instances of police misconduct.
Remember the case of the bicycle messenger who got caught applying makeup
in the men's bathroom at the former Jordan Marsh store downtown in the
early 1990s? It was two special officers who encountered him: they tried
to arrest him for disorderly conduct. By the time they were finished with
the man, they had pushed open a swinging door with his face.
The Boston Bowl situation could be another disaster waiting to happen.
And at the rate public space has been privatized over the past 20 years,
who knows how common these situations are? Perhaps Yates sums up the
implications best: " We cannot have an outside force with police powers
that is accountable to no one. That's only a step away from fascism. "
(Kristen Lombardi can be reached at klombardi@phx.com.)