Leonard H. Cohen

According to Lawyers Weekly, Leonard H. Cohen has served as the criminal defense attorney in more than 5,000 cases, including 50 first-degree murder cases and hundreds of high-profile proceedings. While amassing his impressive courtroom resume, Cohen repeatedly witnessed the significant impact of crime scene photographs, especially the impact they have on juries. Quite often, such photos have worked against his client, bringing crime scenes to life, effectively securing guilty verdicts.

Crime scene photographs not only paint a powerful picture, they convey to the jury exactly what transpired during the commission of a crime. During criminal proceedings, prosecutors and members of law enforcement typically inundate the jury with a barrage of crime scene photos, snapped meticulously from every conceivable angle, using all types of special lighting. Needless to say, a superior court trial devoid of crime scene photographs would garner serious attention and raise considerable suspicion. Yet while representing me, Leonard H. Cohen stood idly by and raised no issues or concerns when crime scene photograph were absent from my trial.

While testifying in Berkshire Superior Court, Pittsfield Massachusetts police investigator Mark Trapani described for the jury, a particular crime scene where an attempted sexual assault had occurred. An assault for which Trapani had fallaciously arrested me, despite irrefutable proof that I was two towns away at the date/time in question. He’d merely exploited an earlier misdemeanor arrest, by speciously tying me to to a four-month-old felony case he’d embarrassingly been unable to solve.

The incident involved a young woman who was attacked in her car, a white Oldsmobile Alero, parked near the front entrance of a Pittsfield Massachusetts Subway sandwich shop. Under oath, Trapani told the court he’d snapped numerous digital photographs of the victim’s car, focusing intently on the passenger side window, thus capturing latent fingerprint images left by the assailant. Testifying that his photo compilation corroborated his latent fingerprint discovery, Trapani promoted his photographic evidence, expounding its role in establishing me as the perpetrator.

But then a strange thing happened. When asked to present these photographs, Trapani suddenly lost his smugness. Sitting sheepishly in the witness chair, he confessed to the jury that he hadn’t brought them to court.

Hadn’t brought them?

Trapani’s omission of crime scene photos — conveniently, the only way to corroborate his purported latent fingerprint discovery — was irresponsible and completely inexcusable. Unless of course no photographs existed because there were no crime scene latent fingerprints. Omitting crime scene photographs couldn’t have been an oversight. The Commonwealth’s case focused exclusively on a latent fingerprint, a smudged left index fingerprint supposedly discovered on the passenger side window of the victim’s car. Had there been photographs, Second Assistant District Attorney Joan McMenemy would have insisted that Trapani bring them to court.

How did Leonard H. Cohen react to this development? Did he smell blood in the water? Did he pounce on an easy victory on behalf of his client? Did he demand a court recess and request (for the record) that Trapani walk across the street to the police station and retrieve his alleged crime scene photos . . . knowing full well I’d be found not guilty when Trapani returned empty handed?

Leonard H. Cohen, a man who served as the criminal defense attorney in more than 5,000 cases, including 50 first-degree murder cases and hundreds of high-profile proceedings, did absolutely nothing. My family gave Cohen, a supposed man of integrity from the prestigious law firm of Cain, Hibbard, Myers, and Cook, $30,000 of hard earned money, only to watch him let Trapani off the hook. He requested a recess, he never demanded that the crime scene photos be presented in court, and he filed no subsequent motions to have Trapani’s illicit evidence fabrication investigated.

If only I’d been represented by a second-year law student. Someone with no trial experience. Such an individual would have prevented an innocent man from serving the eight-year state prison sentence that Leonard H. Cohen ineptly facilitated.

Lawyers Weekly . . . a lot they know!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Leonard H. Cohen

At the Pittsfield Massachusetts police station, criminal suspects are charged and booked behind closed doors. When questions of propriety arise, regarding specific procedures or behavior, answers boil down to the word of law enforcement versus the word of an arrestee. Such a covert and collusive environment invites Pittsfield police to place personal agendas and career goals ahead of law and policy.

This is where veteran criminal defense attorneys rise to the occasion. All too familiar with the immoral, unethical, and illicit activity perpetrated by the Pittsfield Police Department, attorneys scrutinize every document and record pertaining to their client’s booking.

Unless that attorney happens to be Leonard H. Cohen.

According to Lawyers Weekly, Cohen served as the criminal defense attorney in more than 5,000 cases, including 50 first-degree murder cases and hundreds of high-profile proceedings. Yet, subsequent to my 2005 arrest, if I had known then what I know now, I’d have gladly traded Cohen for any second-year law student. Even the greenest of  lawyers would have discovered the blatant booking discrepancy, in my case, that Cohen ineptly overlooked.

On the evening of February 23, 2005, I was taken into custody and booked on misdemeanor charges. While cloistered in the bowels of 39 Allen Street I fell victim to the antics of booking officer David Granger. Just moments before I was to be fingerprinted, Granger launched into a not so convincing act; announcing that the police station’s Live Scan fingerprint machine had “suddenly malfunctioned.” He claimed that, as a result, he couldn’t electronically scan my fingerprints. Rather, he’d have to ink roll my fingerprint card.

Unbeknown to me at the time, Granger’s ruse was perpetrated in order to procure my fingerprints without leaving trace of having done so. Had Granger electronically scanned my prints, the booking software would have automatically time stamped the ten print card. He’d then be afforded no choice but to file the prints and officially record them in A.F.I.S.

By manually creating ink rolled prints — an outdated procedure not used by Pittsfield police in decades — Granger could secretly pass them off to a detective, who would later alter the left index finger and use it to fallaciously connect me to a four-month-old felony that he’d embarrassing failed to solve.

Less than an hour after my ink rolled ten print card was created, someone secretly ran it through the very electronic scanner that Granger had declared out of service. The scanner didn’t know the difference, it simply scanned the ink rolled prints just as it would have scanned my actual fingers — had my booking been legitimate. After receiving a time stamp, the scanned prints were properly filed, then recorded in A.F.I.S.

No one but police knew that two sets of my fingerprints existed — one set slated for illicit activity. But comparison of my arrest report to the electronically scanned fingerprint card reveals the following discrepancy:

date/time recorded on my arrest report:          02/23/2005      @2041

date/time recorded on my fingerprint card:   02/23/2005       @2128

There is a 47-minute time lapse between my booking activity and the date/time stamped ten print card. This would be impossible if things were on the up-and-up. An individual’s fingerprints are scanned and processed in the midst of being booked, not 47 minutes after being booked. I couldn’t have been fingerprinted at 2128 if my arrest report was initiated at 2041. By 2128, I’d long since finished being booked. By that time I was sitting in a cell awaiting arrival of the clerk magistrate.

After scraping together $30,000 of hard earned money, my family gave it to Cohen in good faith, thinking he would provide me with the best possible defense. In turn, Cohen never bothered to analyze my booking documentation. When I told him about the feigned electronic scanner breakdown, Cohen couldn’t have cared less. He never bothered to investigate, and he failed to find a 47-minute discrepancy in paperwork that any newbie attorney would have found instantly.

 

Leonard H. Cohen

Prior to my Berkshire Superior court trial, those in the legal community would have said, “Boy, you’re extremely lucky. You’re being represented by Leonard H. Cohen, a criminal defense attorney who, according to Lawyers Weekly, served as the criminal defense attorney in more than 5,000 cases, including 50 first-degree murder cases and hundreds of high-profile proceedings.”

If only I’d been legally represented by a second-year law student instead. I definitely wouldn’t have served eight years in state prison for a crime that occurred while I was two towns away. Even the most wet behind the ears, inexperienced lawyer would have won my case. A case where Leonard H. Cohen — from the prestigious law firm of Cain, Hibbard, Myers, and Cook — took $30,000 of my family’s hard earned money and then did nothing.

In 2005, one of the most corrupt individuals to ever wear a badge and gun was Pittsfield Police Crime Scene Investigator Mark Trapani. During my trial, Trapani willfully and intentionally lied under oath on the witness stand. Documented forever in Section IV, Page 85 of my trial transcript, Trapani testified that he personally fingerprinted me on the evening of March 1, 2005. There are two gaping holes in Trapani’s testimony. Holes so big you can drive a truck through them.

Yet, Leonard H. Cohen failed to spot the gaping holes because he never bothered to look at evidence. He conducted no research, and unlike his colleagues, he didn’t hire a private investigator to do so . . . opting instead to keep all the money for himself. His opening and closing statements sounded as if he’d written them last minute, in his flashy BMW, while driving to the courthouse.

Hole number one: The only fingerprint card given to Cohen, by the prosecution during discovery, is a ten print card dated February 23, 2005. When my prints were electronically scanned on February 23rd during booking, the police department’s computer software automatically date/time stamped the ten print card the moment it was created. Had Cohen taken five minutes to analyze my ten print card, a task any second-year law student would have performed instinctively, he’d have seen the date.

The interim between my arrest and trial was almost two years. Cohen was afforded two years to look at a sheet of paper, yet he never allocated five minutes to do so. But he had no issue allocating ten minutes to processing the money my family had paid him.

If Mark Trapani had created an ancillary ten print card on March 1, 2005, as he testified, the district attorney’s office would have possessed a copy. The prosecution in turn, would have been legally obligated to provide Cohen with a copy during my discovery hearing. But during trial, both sides possessed February 23, 2005 fingerprints only. While on the stand, Pittsfield Police Inspector Mark Trapani had been caught in a lie. He had perjured himself in Berkshire Superior Court.

Leonard H. Cohen never said a word during trial . . .

Hole number Two: Thanks to a court order, I have complete copies of the Pittsfield Police Department attendance rosters, encompassing all three shifts from Wednesday, February 23, 2005 through Tuesday, March 1, 2005. Nowhere on the rosters does Mark Trapani’s name appear. So apparently, he didn’t work that entire week. How could Mark Trapani have fingerprinted me on the evening of March 1, 2005 when he wasn’t even at the police station? While on the stand, Pittsfield Police Inspector Mark Trapani had been caught in a lie. He had perjured himself in Berkshire Superior Court.

Leonard H. Cohen never said a word during trial . . .

Had Cohen bothered to examine my March 1, 2005 arrest report, a task any second-year law student would have performed instinctively,  he would have found things amiss. It was common knowledge that the case had been assigned specifically and exclusively to Mark Trapani. It was his baby. In addition, Trapani testified to personally fingerprinting me on March 1, 2005.

Well then, on the evening of March 1, 2005, why was I arrested by detective James Casey if it was Mark Trapani’s case? There are three names listed on the arrest report: Reporting Officer: Patrol James Casey, Assisting Officer: Patrol Gary Herland, Booking Officer: Sergeant Mark Lenihan. Why is Mark Trapani’ name not listed on the arrest report if the case was his? Why didn’t Trapani conduct his own arrest in his own case? Especially if he was present at the police station, waiting to fingerprint me?

Trapani wasn’t there.

Trapani didn’t fingerprint me.

This, for $30,000? If only I could travel back in time, I’d have gladly accepted a second-year Boston College law student any day!

 

 

 

Leonard H. Cohen

Leonard H. Cohen is a high profile criminal defense attorney who has practiced law in Berkshire County for over fifty years. According to Lawyers Weekly, he’s served as the criminal defense attorney in more than 5,000 cases, including 50 first-degree murder cases and hundreds of high-profile proceedings. This begs the question: Why does Cohen lose trials that any second-year law student would have easily won? The answer is obvious, such losses are intentional.

Case in point: During my booking, as charges were being read, I had no prior criminal history. While being fingerprinted, I arrived at the conclusion that I’d had fallen victim to some huge misunderstanding, something a competent attorney would straighten out. I’d been arrested, for allegedly committing a crime in Pittsfield at 9:00 PM on the evening of October 20, 2004. This would have proven impossible because, at that exact date/time, I was two towns away, ensconced behind my Richmond Massachusetts home computer.

As an individual unfamiliar with Pittsfield Police Department drapavity, I was ignorant of their propensity to act unethically, immorally, and illicitly. Like most Berkshire County citizens I was naive, harboring no idea that those who took an oath to “protect” and “serve” we’re actually bigger criminals than those they’d sworn to protect. As a result, I did something extremely foolish. I told detectives of my activities and whereabouts for the night in question, repeatedly stating that such information could be proven. I blurted out that hard drive registry data on my home computer would establish my whereabouts on the date and time of the incident. As if that wasn’t too much information, I also revealed my intentions to hire a computer forensics investigator to extract this data.

As a result of my big mouth, Pittsfield detectives promptly tracked down the computer and seized it illegally without a warrant or legal authority whatsoever. Breaking every law possible, my Hewlett-Packard was transported to the Pittsfield police station, smuggled into the forensics department, and never logged-in as evidence.

Attorney Leonard H. Cohen merely harrumphed when I conveyed this news. He couldn’t have cared less that my personal property had been illegally seized, nor did he bother to access the police station to verify that the unit had never been catalogued. His excuse was: “If the Pittsfield police didn’t tell the district attorney about your computer, then the district attorney obviously can’t tell me about your computer. Therefore, I’m not going to worry about it.” Bear in mind, the computer was my alibi. Probably the most important aspect of the case. Something a second-year law student would have instinctively pounced on. Yet Leonard Cohen couldn’t be bothered.

Once my computer was safely in the hands of police technicians, the unit underwent malicious tampering. Meaningless files were surreptitiously introduced to the hard drive which reshuffled the hard drive registry. With the registry chronology now scrambled, my computer was rendered useless as an alibi. I was defenseless at trial, unable to establish my whereabouts on the evening of the crime. Leonard Cohen didn’t seem the least bit concerned.

As I sat in a prison cell, another attorney attempted to retrieve the computer. She was told by police that it had “gone missing.” This of course was a lie. Panicked detectives were hiding the unit in the hopes of covering up their vandalism. After I was sent to prison, they didn’t anticipate anyone pursuing my computer. The ruse didn’t fool didn’t fool my new attorney, and so a legal battle ensued. Detectives were eventually forced to abandon their charade and relinquish possession of my computer.

The ravished computer was transported out of Massachusetts and turned over to New England Computer Forensics, LLC., where it underwent a thorough examination. James Kalkowski, a forensic data recovery specialist, discovered that exactly 557 files were inexplicably added to my hard drive while in police custody. An excerpt from his report reads: “…The first thing I noticed was that, based on the information I was given regarding the computer’s seizure, a proper forensic analysis was not done.  A proper computer forensic investigation means that the data on the hard drive should never be altered after a computer is seized…”

Why did Leonard H. Cohen, a high profile criminal defense attorney who has practiced law in Berkshire County for over fifty years, intentionally coverup the Pittsfield Police Department’s illegal seizure and subsequent tampering of my computer . . . my alibi?

Click here to read letter from the attorney who had my computer analyzed.

Letter From Attorney Concerning Missing Computer

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Leonard H. Cohen

Attorney Leonard H. Cohen of Pittsfield Massachusetts has been practicing criminal law for over half a decade. Yet, in 2005 he forever ruined my life by losing a case that any second-year law student would have easily won. As a partner with the prestigious law firm of Cain, Hibbard, Myers and Cook, Leonard Cohen took my parent’s hard earned money, under the guise of being an attorney hellbent on defending me. He portrayed himself as a man of integrity, a legal guru who wouldn’t give up until he’d exposed the corrupt investigative practices conducted by members of the Pittsfield police department. He then proceeded to railroad me into an eight-year prison sentence, laughing at my parents all the way.

Leonard Cohen’s office sat less than five minutes walk from the Pittsfield Massachusetts police station. Despite such close proximity, he failed to access the police station’s evidence room to verify the existence of an item allegedly confiscated from my home by Pittsfield police detective James Casey. The item in question: a dark-colored hooded sweatshirt, matching the description of a garment worn by a sought after perpetrator.

The interim between my arrest and trial was almost two years. TWO YEARS, almost 730 days, yet in all that time Cohen couldn’t be bothered to visit the police station. He harbored no interest in personally examining the sweatshirt (a piece of evidence being used against me) or obtaining copies of evidence paperwork.

Had Cohen done his job, he would have discovered the following: Prior to arresting me, detective Casey asked his superior, Captain Patrick Barry, for permission to solicit the judge for a search warrant. When Captain Barry denied the request, Detective Casey rummaged through my home anyway, with no warrant or legal authority whatsoever. Coming up empty handed, feeling foolish, Casey fabricated the existence of a dark-colored sweatshirt and then documented the lie in his official February, 23, 2005 arrest report. A police report that speciously influenced grand jury members to indict me.

During trial I was a sitting duck on the witness stand. While grandstanding for the jury, second assistant district attorney Joan McMenemy launched into a tirade.  She grilled me incessantly about the sweatshirt she believed to exist. Courtroom attendees became riveted, listening intently as I rebuffed McMenemy’s attacks, vehemently denying her unfounded allegations of a sweatshirt. But as McMenemy’s barrage continued, my credibility deteriorated. She had successfully convinced jury members that I was lying. And if I’m lying then I must be guilty.

McMenemy became enraged at my refusal to admit ownership of the sweatshirt.  In desperation she called a sidebar conference and consulted with the judge. At that point the jury was immediately sequestered, no longer privy to what was being said in the courtroom. With jury members safely out of earshot, McMenemy told the judge that she couldn’t understand why I was being allowed to deny the existence of evidence when said evidence was documented in full by a Pittsfield police detective. As a result, she requested a 30-minute recess. At that point she summoned her intern and gave orders for the sweatshirt to be retrieved from the police station.

Bold as brass, Leonard Cohen approached me and said, “Well, you’re in trouble now, they’ve gone to get the sweatshirt. What do I say when the prosecutor starts waving your sweatshirt in front of the jury?”  I was flabbergasted.  Here it was February of 2007, detective Casey had falsified his arrest report way back in February of 2005, and in all that time my attorney had never made a five minute walk to the police station to verify existence of the sweatshirt?

McMenemy’s intern soon returned, looking rather sheepish, reporting that no sweatshirt had ever been catalogued relative to my case. And like lava spewing from a volcano the sordid details emerged.  Pittsfield police detective James Casey had made false statements within an official arrest report.  He’d offered a false instrument for filing.  He lied to the district attorney.  He intentionally mislead a grand jury. All criminal offenses for which he should be held accountable.

Unfortunately, jury members heard none of this. They were still conveniently out of earshot when the shocking developments were revealed. When the jury finally did reconvene, McMenemy merely stood up, stone-faced, and announced: “The prosecution rests.” I grew incredulous. A Second Assistant District Attorney was covering up the illicit activity of a corrupt police detective.

Even worse, attorney Leonard H. Cohen stood idly by and said nothing. He was preoccupied, probably deciding the best way to spend my parent’s hard earned money.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Fake News

Over the past few years, Massachusetts newspaper reporters have written numerous articles regarding the lack of transparency within Bay State law enforcement; specifically their propensity to withhold public records. But a more abominable trend currently exists: In Pittsfield Massachusetts, when police officials are legally forced to release public records — documents containing scandalous information they wish to conceal — records are covertly forged, then released.

Attached to this post is a PDF file, consisting of seven Pittsfield Police Department attendance rosters, dated February 23, 2005 through March 1, 2005. The documents are complete forgeries, created by someone within the department for the specific purpose of protecting three individuals who are responsible for illicit activity conducted during a criminal investigation.

In 2010, written requests for the attendance rosters were submitted to both the Pittsfield acting police chief and the city’s management information manager; pursuant to Chapter 66, Section 10, of the Massachusetts General Laws regarding the timely release of public records. Both correspondences respectfully reminded recipients that the requested information must be released within 10 days, or a written explanation must be provided.

After the written requests went ignored, a Complaint for Judicial Review was filed. Subsequent to this filing, Pittsfield police administration was forced to release the attendance rosters. No longer able to conceal the shifts/hours worked by the three individuals in question, bogus attendance rosters were created. But in the haste to create forgeries, three pertinent details were inadvertently overlooked:

(1) Attendance rosters dated Wednesday, February 23, 2005 through Friday, March 1, 2005 should list Anthony Riello as the police chief. Riello was chief of the Pittsfield Police Department from 1996 until November 30, 2007. The rosters I received mistakingly list Michael Wynn as the police chief in 2005. One problem: Wynn didn’t take the reins until December of 2007, when he was assigned the auspicious title of Captain in Charge.

(2) Numerous Berkshire District Court documents, Pittsfield police reports, and Berkshire Superior Court trial transcript excerpts clearly establish that Detective James Casey, Inspector Mark Trapani, and Detective James Stimpson experienced a very busy work week from February 23, 2005 through March 1, 2005, yet their names are missing from the seven attendance rosters!

(3) A September 14, 2010 letter from Pittsfield Police Administrative Services Captain John Mullin, accedes to the fact that he must legally release copies of attendance rosters dated February 23, 2005 through March 1, 2005. Mullin’s letter goes on to state that, prior to searching for these rosters, the department must receive an $8.00 check or money order to cover the records search/copying fee. So legitimate rosters would have a print date subsequent to his September 14, 2010 correspondence. But the rosters I received have a print stamp date of 08/16/2010. How can documents be printed a month before they’re searched for?

Apparently, various and sundry attendance roster sheets were carelessly amalgamated to create the illusion of valid documents. Only someone with proper clearance and authority could have orchestrated the doctoring of departmental attendance records. Motive for the forgeries stems from concern that disreputable activity conducted by James Casey, Mark Trapani, and James Stimpson would be publicly exposed by private investigators; one of whom is a retired Connecticut state trooper. Working in conjunction with a crime scene specialist, a veteran fingerprint analyst, and a forensic data recovery specialist, the investigators assembled irrefutable evidence regarding malfeasance within the Pittsfield Police Department.

This begs the question: In how many other criminal cases have Pittsfield Police Department records been forged, then released to the unsuspecting public?

Michael Wynn faced scrutiny in 2015 after a supposed, and all too convenient, hard drive failure destroyed an unknown quantity of Pittsfield Police Department records. Rather than investigate the matter, the district attorney colluded with Wynn to withhold the incident from the public. It was only by chance that a Boston reporter learned of the cover up. Here is a link to that story.

https://digboston.com/broken-records-the-pitts/

Sure the Pittsfield Police Department withholds public records

Sure the Pittsfield Police Department attempts to destroy public records

Sure the Pittsfield Police Department creates fake public records

But why not?

The political machine in Boston condones it.

Secretary of the Commonwealth, Bill Galvin even encourages it.

Attendance Roster PPD February 23 through March 1 2005

 

 

And Justice For All . . . Provided They Have The Cash

It’s unfortunate that in Massachusetts, justice is only attainable by those with money, regardless of the atrocities committed.

In a criminal case, there’s no way to expose the depths of illicit police activity until the trial is over. For instance, it’s impossible to anticipate what lies, contradictions, or inconsistencies a detective will convey on the witness stand until his or her testimony is actually given. There’s no way to know the degree to which fabricated evidence will be falsely portrayed to jurors until the charade plays out in court. Privately hired forensic experts cannot officially prove that a defendant’s illegally-seized property was surreptitiously tampered with by police until they gain possession . . . again, after trial.  So by the time a defendant is afforded opportunity to publicly expose police corruption, it’s too late, they’re already convicted.

In most states, when evidence of illegal police activity is overwhelming and irrefutable, such post trial information can be forwarded to a judge who will in turn grant a retrial. But I was convicted in Massachusetts, a state that’s proven to be as conducive to proper laws and procedures as the planet Mars has proven capable of sustaining human life.

Massachusetts has an insane law that states: The judge who presides over a superior court trial is the same judge who makes subsequent rulings as to whether the defendant is granted a retrial. But what judge is going to willfully open themselves up to potential scrutiny, should a subsequent trial reveal judicial improprieties, mistakes, or blatant oversight? Your typical Massachusetts judge couldn’t care less about publicly exposing a corrupt law enforcement entity, if doing so could in any way negatively shine a spotlight on the bench. Screw the poor defendant whose life was irreversibly ruined by corrupt police personnel and then covered up by their superiors. Your typical Massachusetts judge is only concerned with one thing, self-preservation.

This leaves one option: A civil suit. A way to circumvent the Massachusetts court system. A method of exposing the illegal behavior perpetrated by Massachusetts police everyday. In my particular case, I don’t care about money, all I want is for the Pittsfield Massachusetts Police Department to be held responsible for their illegal, immoral, and unethical actions. But no civil action attorney will give me the time of day without first receiving a check for at least $50,000.

Justice . . . has a price!

 

Ode To Pittsfield

Welcome to the city of Pittsfield
With a police force that’s truly insane
An agency fraught with corruption
Where malfeasance yields personal gain

Such flagrant abuse of authority
They are bolden to no one at all
Self-righteous and over-empowered
Nothing can breech their blue wall

If scandal was something that hovered
If misconduct was something that flew
Their station could serve as a runway
With each cop making up the aircrew

For years I sat rotting in prison
All due to this pestilent team
The rest of my life is in shambles
Malignity is part of their scheme

A paradigm of civic dishonor
From traffic cop up to the chief
I’ll mention a few of the blameful
But the list as a whole isn’t brief

Let’s start with detective James Casey
Who began his career as a youth
Ascended the ranks with delusion
Quite a poseur but never a sleuth

His cases were solved without merit
Through deception and egregious lies
He’d invent or he’d fabricate evidence
All a part of his crime fighting guise

Quite often he’d falsify records
And he’d generate specious reports
Mendacity used to get warrants
A ruse for deceiving the courts

He arrested me late in the evening
Wielded handcuffs and drove me to jail
I was booked and advised of the charges
Then a magistrate let me post bail

How in the hell did this happen
I’d no record or felonious past
Deep within fires of turpitude
Casey’s malignance was cast

Well into the evening I pondered
An ordeal that just didn’t make sense
The victim of a detective’s depravity
It was time that I mount a defense

The first step was get information
Locate records regarding the crimes
Then figure out how they involved me
Time to focus on dates and the times

Quite suddenly I spotted a pattern
The crimes occurred while I sat home
No way did I break laws in Pittsfield
When from Richmond I never did roam

They happened on dates I was busy
On my computer eight miles away
Emails and projects could prove it
Of this fact to police I’d convey

Establishing my innocence was easy
My computer held all of the proof
Time-stamps stored deep in the hard drive
Would confirm the arrest was a goof

Casey got wind of my evidence
And it gave him a terrible fright
He’d arrested the wrong individual
And my alibi was completely airtight

Handled in true Pittsfield fashion
Rogue actions that hinged on abhorrent
Detectives ascended the property
Without authority and devoid of a warrant

My computer was abducted illegally
Smuggled to the bowels of their station
Police never spoke of its existence
Nor did they divulge its location

Never acknowledged as evidence
It was never intended for court
Well hidden from the district attorney
No mention of it in a report

The police stole my computer covertly
Due to motive that’s barely conceivable
They sought out destruction of data
Thus making my alibi unretrievable

The unit was ravaged quite recklessly
Many settings were randomly changed
Empty files were secretly added
Till the hard drive configs rearranged

With registry chronology scrambled
No data could be used for my case
How convenient for unlawful officials
Nights in question I could never retrace

I was powerless now without alibi
And the city’s police were at fault
Their actions concealed during trial
Kept private was the computer assault

Weeks later while sitting in prison
An attorney was called to intercede
She planned on retrieving my computer
To expose the nefarious deed

On the day she attempted to get it
Pittsfield cops said the unit was lost
The attorney knew well they were lying
And she’d prove it regardless of cost

For weeks she engaged in a battle
Until finally the police had to fold
The computer was “found” in a closet
Or at least that’s the tale that they told

The computer was whisked to an expert
Who compiled a six-page report
He proved I was victim of sabatoge
Unfortunately it was too late for court

Our expert went over the procedures
In regard to how computers are checked
He explained how police did the opposite
To ensure that my hard drive got wrecked

In the end I was proven not guilty
The entire arrest was for naught
Casey’s the one who had broken the law
And at trial red-handed was caught

But the judge and the D.A. did nothing
Not so much as a slap on the wrist
Thanks to Jame’s Casey’s transgressions
My fate would then take quite a twist

Detectives like Casey are ruthless
Merely outlaws with badges and suits
Another is named Mark Trapani
With whom Casey remained in cahoots

The week I was arrested by Casey
Mark Trapani was stuck on a case
He’d proven unable to solve it
A debacle he just couldn’t face

The failure put a chink in his ego
But he soon came up with a plan
Trapani couldn’t catch the real culprit
So he’d state that I was the man

After all I had just been arrested
And most likely I’d be locked away
Trapani saw this as opportunity
Resolve a case any which way

To do so required fake evidence
Bogus fingerprints would easily do
He’d claim they were found at the crime scene
They’d believe him before he was through

But Pittsfield is bound to procedures
From arrest straight through to the trial
Fingerprints are processed via scanner
So that AFIS can add to their file

One way to beat such a protocol
Is to feign a malfunctioning scanner
Then process my prints via ink roll
Even though it’s an outdated manner

The night Casey took me in handcuffs
My fingerprints faced alteration
First created suspiciously by ink roll
Then scanned after I’d left the station

Trapani now had what he needed
Spare prints for a fraudulent ploy
He’d call them the latents he lifted
Very useful as a trial decoy

The slime ball then got me indicted
In a case that was never legit
His evidence duped a grand jury
Thus insuring they’d never acquit

At trial he declared I was guilty
For some havoc I never did wreak
Despite having nothing for evidence
Proceedings dragged on for a week

Trapani gave considerable testimony
But suspiciously he didn’t bring proof
He said there were crime scene photos
But they’d vanished and went away… poof

So there I was sweating through trial
As Trapani touted prints he’d retrieved
But no photos existed to corroborate
He simply hoped everyone would believe

The truth is he never found evidence
There never was miraculous discovery
That’s why he couldn’t produce photos
To authenticate latent print recovery

But he figured no jury would doubt him
Wouldn’t question how I’d been arrested
After all he’s a crime scene investigator
Just like God he cannot be contested

Trapani had covered the bases
But as a perjurer he wasn’t quite done
There still was a hole in his narrative
All lies were out except for just one

The problem was a matter of timing
He wasn’t present in either arrest
So testimony regarding analysis
Was pure fiction to which he’d attest

On the stand he conveyed quite a story
Claimed he printed me the night I was booked
But his name doesn’t appear on the roster
A large detail he completely overlooked

At no place is Trapani’s name present
Not on third shift or second or first
So obviously he didn’t get fingerprints
As a prevaricator that man is the worst

How could he have possibly printed me
On a date when he wasn’t at work
I’ve a list of the three shifts in question
All compliments of a police payroll clerk

Despite all the lies and the stories
He was able to fool the whole crowd
In the end I was sadly found guilty
Its quite easy when lies are allowed

A smile each time that he perjured
On the stand he was smug and reserved
But transcripts recorded his testimony
Now forever his lies are preserved

Months later we hired two experts
Private gumshoes who proved to be wise
They discovered the truths about Trapani
Turns out his whole character’s a guise

At trial he had no credentials
His testimony was nothing but sham
He never attended fingerprint school
For his job there had been no exam

He’d proven deficient in forensics
Unfamiliar with science techniques
His training had merely been classes
He’d attended for just a few weeks

He hadn’t yet earned certification
No licensing assigned from the state
He’d recently just been a patrolman
Yet this man was in charge of my fate

The jury was duped with vernacular
Just an act of verbose regurgitation
Stuff he’d memorized out of a book
Or a pamphlet he’d found at the station

James Casey is now a state trooper
Mark Trapani is captain at rank
Deceit and corruption will pay off
It’s Pittsfield the two have to thank

At trial many cops were subpoenaed
Among them detective John Gray
He tried to evade damning questions
In regard to police foul play

Gray found himself in a dilemma
Under oath there could only be facts
He couldn’t provide honest answers
Without attesting to criminal acts

His colleagues were guilty of rigging
They stole records once stored in my file
With these items conveniently missing
Detectives could maneuver the trial

Details defining my innocence
Simply vanished without any clue
And Gray said he hadn’t an inkling
Of the when or the why or the who

Such flagrant corruption is heinous
It’s an issue for internal affairs
But no one was ever investigated
Because In Pittsfield nobody cares

We mustn’t forget Captain Mullins
An administrator with passion unbridled
A master at withholding public records
He doesn’t care that we’re legally entitled

Who knows all the things that he’s hiding
Improprieties that we’ll never learn
Coverups descend from the top down
But in Pittsfield that’s not a concern

The cops in this town have immunity
So they function as rogue as can be
This fact isn’t foreign to mayors
Truth be told I’ve solicited three

Ruberto, Bianchi, and Tyer
Civic leaders entrusted to serve
A trio who shrugged off corruption
They’re just mice who haven’t the nerve

Corrupt Massachusetts Judges

Massachusetts has an inane law: The presiding judge in a superior court trial automatically assumes sole responsibility for granting or denying motions for a new trial.  A prominent Boston attorney once told me, “This law is cruel at best, affording depraved judges opportunity to tuck away newly discovered exculpatory evidence, sweep police malfeasance under the rug, and forever conceal improprieties he or she may have committed while on the bench.”

Subsequent to my wrongful conviction, family members retained the services of two private investigators; one of whom is a former Connecticut state trooper. Working in conjunction with a crime scene specialist, a veteran fingerprint expert, and a forensic data recovery specialist, the investigators assembled more than sufficient evidence to not only secure a retrial, but also have members of the Pittsfield Police Department investigated for illicit activity.

Berkshire County Superior court judge Daniel Ford was provided with irrefutable documentation confirming the following:
(1) Forged documents, created by members of the Pittsfield Police Department
(2) False information submitted to the district attorney by Pittsfield police detectives
(3) Intentional breach of chain of custody to destroy exculpatory case file evidence
(4) Altering of fingerprint evidence by a Pittsfield police crime scene investigator
(5) Coverup of illegally procured electronic equipment, known to contain my alibi
(6) Destruction and feigned loss of illegally procured electronic equipment
(7) Courtroom perjury

Not only did Judge Ford protect a corrupt law enforcement entity by denying two motions for a new trial, he promptly forwarded the information to Pittsfield police administration to warn them of the documentation in my possession.

While working as a prosecutor, Daniel Ford knowingly and willfully sent an innocent man to prison for life. That man is now dead, the result of contracting AIDS after being raped and beaten more than thirty times over the course of two decades. While this man languished in prison, Daniel Ford was rewarded with a Superior Court judgeship that he holds today.

Each day when Judge Daniel Ford ambles down the hallowed halls of the Pittsfield Massachusetts superior court building, everyone smiles and dutifully addresses him as “Your Honor.” What is so honorable about a man who gained national attention by engaging in serious misconduct and open bigotry to win a conviction?  Since when does an individual attain honor by leading a corrupt prosecution that ruined an innocent young man’s life?

https://www.washingtonpost.com/news/the-watch/wp/2014/10/10/why-is-daniel-ford-still-a-massachusetts-judge/?utm_term=.58629f64a9af

Daniel Ford is indicative of the Massachusetts legal structure; a deeply flawed system that relies on a prosecutorial honor code as its only safeguard. But there is no honor when the guardians of justice become the perveyors of injustice. Honor cannot exist in courtroom environments where ill-gotten convictions produce rewards and abuse comes without penalty.

I should know…

I was once an innocent man…

Daniel Ford is a godsend to Pittsfield Massachusetts police detectives. Does anyone imagine for one second that a judge who harbors such low moral fiber would bat an eye at such corrupt police practices as lying to a grand jury, making false statements within a police report, destroying exculpatory evidence, fabricating incriminating evidence, or courtroom perjury?

I should know…

I was once an innocent man…

What Is Scary

On Sunday morning television, the bumbling Keystone Kops are funny. We laugh at their antics and we empathize with their incompetence. But in real life bumbling police are not funny, they’re dangerous. When impoverished thinking and inadequate training merge with gun and badge, catastrophe ensues.

And along comes the Pittsfield Massachusetts Police Department…

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