7. Under Color of Law

Dana’s case was unfolding in a climate of retaliation, intimidation, coverups, and malignant incompetence by public officials backed by public institutions. The story of Judge Judith L. Meyer offers a telling example. Judge Meyer signed the first search warrant in Dana’s case.

Later, in 2017, in open court, Judge Meyer criticized Detective Johnson for botching a different murder investigation. At the time, Judge Meyer said the behavior of Long Beach detectives in the case was “appalling and unethical and inappropriate.” Her words were quoted in the Long Beach Press-Telegram in an article by Jeremiah Dobruck published on April 23, 2018.

This botched murder investigation began in 2010 when Johnson and his partner were assigned to the case of a young man gunned down in the street near his home. Angie Christides, prosecutor from the Los Angeles District Attorney’s Office, complained to her supervisors that Johnson and his partner “were involved in a series of either blunders or intentional omissions during the investigation.”

Christides reportedly recommended adding Johnson to the “Brady list,” a list of police officers whose credibility is subject to court review because they have knowingly lied in an official capacity.

Johnson’s superiors defended him, blaming the prosecutor for mistakes in the case. Johnson retaliated against the prosecutor by filing a complaint with the State Bar of California.

Meanwhile, police officers paid a private visit to Judge Meyer. In a secret letter dated the same day the Press-Telegram report was published, Judge Meyer recanted her criticism and vouched for the integrity of the detectives.

A report by Dobruck and Kelly Puente published in the Long Beach Post on April 18, 2019, quoted one local attorney’s reaction to this private visit from police:

“They basically went into the judge’s chambers with documents in their hands to try to convince her that she made a mistake, and they did this in order to save their credibility. Why would you do it in this fashion if not to intimidate? This speaks to the level they will go to protect themselves.”


A visit from Long Beach police can make even a well-respected superior court judge change her tune. To salvage the credibility of Detective Johnson, top brass went to bat for him, putting the integrity and credibility of the entire police department on the line. These facts illuminate what happened next with Dana’s case.

My heartsick parents and I had just left the hospital after the meeting with the social worker and nurse who explained Dana’s injuries. We were grappling with the disturbing impression that my sister had died under suspicious circumstances. Huck wanted us to follow him home. He and my brother were ahead of us in Dana’s car.

A small army of police officers in front of Dana’s house was a welcome sight. Flashing lights lit up the block in red and blue. I thought the good guys had arrived.

Officers asked Huck to remain in the driveway as they waited for the search warrant and homicide detectives Todd Johnson and Roger Zottneck. Huck kept talking about the home’s awesome surveillance system and “smart home” electronic features. My brother later told me he thought Huck should keep his mouth shut. If Huck would be arrested, Stephen wanted it to be on suspicion of murder, not because Huck said something insulting to police.

Huck bragged that his cameras recorded everything happening in and around his house. Police became very interested in the surveillance system. Later, I would write to the Long Beach Citizen Police Complaint Commission:

“Police investigators focused on the cameras to the exclusion of everything else. Police were willfully blind to homicide evidence that was right in front of their eyes.”

CPCC complaint (pdf)

That night, homicide detectives placed an evidence marker near a pair of shoes Huck had worn. The shoes were in the dining area, next to one of the orange chairs, far from the yoga room. Just inches from the marker, blood evidence is clearly visible. Blood spatter can be seen on a chair leg. A streak of blood runs down the chair back.

Police photos taken in the master bath show a dark trail on the floor running from the bathroom door and into the room. I suspect Dana was in the bathroom when she was bludgeoned in the back of her head. Markings on the concrete floor suggest that, at some point in the attack, Dana’s bleeding head was near the bathroom door, and she was dragged toward the shower.

Reddish-brown tread prints from Birkenstock sandals can be seen on the bathroom floor, too. In home-surveillance videos, Huck can be seen wearing Birkenstock sandals prior to changing his clothes and taking the dog for a walk.

The resolution of the police photos is high enough to show no hair on the bathroom floor. Having hair like Dana’s, I’m confident that the only time when not a single strand of hair can be found on the bathroom floor is immediately after the floor has been cleaned.

I suspect Huck tried to clean the bloodstains off the floor in the master bath but was unable to remove them completely. To further disguise the bloodstains, he coated the floor with decorative stain. He had applied decorative stain to concrete surfaces throughout the house in the past, as noted in the This Old House article (pdf) about the kitchen remodel.

Despite visible blood in the dining area and suspicious stains in the master bath, homicide detectives failed to test chemically for the presence of blood anywhere in the house that night.

In police photos, more than one dozen dumbbells are clearly visible in the yoga room. Later, it occurred to me that the hexagonal edges of the dumbbells might match what the nurse had told us about Dana’s scalp laceration being shaped like an upside-down letter L, accompanied by two points of impact to her skull that were about an inch apart.

Police photos show other possible weapons in the house, such as a dumbbell seemingly out of place near the kitchen hutch, a set of golf clubs in the garage, and a wrist-rocket slingshot with a plastic bag of marbles and metal ball bearings on the floor of the master bedroom next to Huck’s nightstand.

Police photos also show State Farm life-insurance papers on the dining table.

Police removed the surveillance DVR and Dana’s iPad from the house, along with some of Huck’s clothes. Notably, the orange t-shirt Huck had worn for much of the morning on March 3 was not obtained by police. We couldn’t understand why police didn’t take Huck’s computer, iPad, and multiple phones, too.

That night, Detective Johnson talked to my dad and brother, assuring them that Huck was totally innocent. Johnson said he had searched the house thoroughly and didn’t find anything suspicious. A guy would have to be crazy to kill his wife with so many cameras in his house.

We thought Johnson might be playing a game to make Huck think he had been cleared. We thought, surely, the police would aggressively investigate. We were wrong. Johnson had decided right then and there that Dana had died in a yoga accident.

Later, I spoke to one of Johnson’s former partners who told me Johnson had a reputation for reaching hasty conclusions about cases. More experienced investigators like Zottneck were paired with Johnson to make him slow down and do things by the book. Zottneck was weary of this in 2014. He went on leave soon after Dana’s death.

Huck wasn’t arrested. The next day at the hospital, he seemed ecstatic. He retained all rights as Dana’s next of kin. He signed papers authorizing the harvesting of her vital organs for donation. He informed us that Dana would be cremated as soon as possible. He would have her ashes tattooed into his skin. He knew people with cremains tattoos, he told us, and thought it was cool. He planned to mix Dana’s leftover ashes with the ashes of her long-dead dog, a Vizsla named Roger.

We thought this plan macabre and insulting to Dana, but we had no legal standing to prevent Huck from doing whatever he wished. We decided to appear to go along with him while trying to talk him out of it. Eventually, my dad struck a bargain by agreeing to pay all mortuary and memorial expenses in exchange for half of Dana’s ashes. Even in death, I thought, Huck was holding her hostage, calculating her ransom.

Dana’s case had become a coroner’s case. Once a hospital patient is declared dead and falls under the coroner’s jurisdiction, laws protect the integrity of a homicide investigation. For example, the person’s entire body along with his or her clothing, whether removed from or still on the body, becomes evidence belonging to the coroner.

Doctors officially pronounced Dana dead on March 6, 2014. That afternoon, my parents and brother returned to Denver. After they left, Huck left the hospital, too, and, as far as I know, never returned to see Dana. I would stay in Long Beach for as long as Dana was in the hospital, and longer to ensure receipt of half of Dana’s ashes from the mortuary. Dana remained in her hospital bed as her organs were tested and prepared for harvesting surgery, which was scheduled for March 8.

During the afternoon on March 6, a nurse came into Dana’s room and we briefly talked. She told me a doctor who had treated Dana in the emergency room was nearby in the ICU. I asked her to find out if the doctor would be willing to talk to me. The nurse brought him into the room and closed the door behind her.

The doctor told me Dana’s case hit close to home for him. His wife was Dana’s age and was a yoga practitioner, too. He was on his way to his son’s baseball game shortly after treating Dana when he called police. He spoke to an officer he knew whose name was Moore, I think, but perhaps it was Moody. The officer asked if Dana might have been hit with a baseball bat. The doctor said, yes, her injuries were consistent with being hit with a bat.

When the doctor heard organ harvesting had been approved, he knew Huck had gotten away with the perfect crime. In the doctor’s experience, organ harvesting would not be allowed unless authorities had decided not to pursue a homicide investigation.

The coroner’s office had approved the harvesting of Dana’s organs by a company called One Legacy. Later, I learned from afiling in a civil lawsuit that, at the time of Dana’s death, the L.A. County Coroner’s Office had disturbingly close ties with One Legacy. A whistleblower retaliation suit filed on May 10, 2017, by coroner investigator Denise Bertone reads in part:

“One Legacy is a private non-profit organization that is the only organ and tissue harvesting company in Southern California, and has significant influence over the Los Angeles County Coroner’s Department. One Legacy has unfettered access to the Coroner Department’s private crypt, which it monitors on a daily basis to examine decedents in order to identify target donors. One Legacy also has complete access to the Department’s secure computer system, from which it obtains next of kin contact information to obtain authorization for harvesting. In addition, the Department has an insurance policy, purchased by One Legacy, for legal claims relating to organ and tissue donations. One Legacy is required to obtain consent from a Coroner Department doctor before it can harvest the decedent’s organs or tissue. Certain doctors in the Department never refuse consent, so One Legacy can always obtain consent to harvest if it asks certain doctors in the Department, even in cases where it is critical to preserve the decedents’ bodies for homicide investigations.”

Denise Bertone v. County of Los Angeles

Bertone’s lawsuit stemmed from a troubling incident in 2013 involving the death of a boy. According to the filing:

“Before the boy died, he had entered a coma after being submerged in a washing machine. The boy was then taken to a hospital where One Legacy obtained consent from his guardians to have his organs harvested for donation after his cardiac death. …While the boy was still alive, he was taken off the ventilator, but then continued to gasp for air, and did not go into cardiac arrest. When the boy failed to go into cardiac arrest, the attending physician administered 500 micrograms of Fentanyl—a strong narcotic—to the boy with the purpose of inducing his death while the harvesting team was waiting in the operating room. After the 500 micrograms of Fentanyl were administered, the boy went into cardiac arrest and died, after which One Legacy harvested his organs.”

Denise Bertone v. County of Los Angeles

Bertone contends L.A. County Coroner Dr. Mark Fajardo closed the investigation into the boy’s death in October 2013, falsely stating on the death certificate that the boy died due to consequences of “near drowning” rather than fentanyl. Bertone claims Fajardo told her he had no doubt the boy was killed for his organs, but “you just can’t say that.” Further, Fajardo allegedly warned Bertone: “While you work for me, you will never criticize One Legacy.”

It’s a shocking case in which, allegedly, the coroner was willing to overlook homicide for the sake of extracting a child’s organs. I can’t help but wonder whether the coroner’s office was as forgiving and organ-hungry in Dana’s case. Except for her ruined brain, Dana was remarkably healthy. One Legacy took and transplanted her heart, liver, kidneys, lungs, and more. Sick and dying people benefited incalculably from Dana’s gifts.

Still, I don’t think Fajardo or One Legacy should pat themselves on the back. Considering their cozy, ghoulish relationship, it’s likely that the coroner’s office prioritized harvesting Dana’s organs over seeking justice for her. She was a defenseless victim of crime, and instead of advocating on her behalf, Los Angeles County stripped her for parts. She could not have foreseen this when she opted to be an organ donor on her driver’s license.

The day Dana’s organs were taken, March 8, 2014, was a Saturday. On Sunday, I called the coroner’s office to ask what would happen next. I was worried that Huck, as next of kin, could refuse to let her body be autopsied. The person I talked to assured me the autopsy would happen and suggested I call back on Monday. On Monday, March 10, I was told Dana’s body had not been received by the coroner’s office. The hospital told me Dana was no longer there. Where was she?

At 11 a.m., I visited the headquarters of the Long Beach Police Department. I asked to speak to the detective in homicide who was handling the case of Dana Jones. The officer at the information window looked up Dana’s name in a computer and said there was no record of any case. I told him a dozen or more patrol cars and investigators had spent hours at Dana’s house on the night of March 4. Officers had conducted a door-to-door canvas of her street. The officer told me he could find no police record of a call to Dana’s address ever. He gave me the phone number for the homicide desk.

I called homicide and spoke to a woman who did not recognize the name Dana Jones. She asked if I meant someone named Perez. I repeated the name Dana Jones. The woman made a sound of recognition and said Detective Johnson would be the person to talk to, but detectives aren’t in on Mondays. I left my name and number and told her I wanted to meet with Johnson in person if possible.

Johnson had done nothing to advance the homicide investigation. The reason why no one could find information about Dana’s case is because Johnson had decided there was no case. He had dropped it.

Later, I learned that a woman named Kristie Perez had been murdered by her husband, who in turn had killed himself. Johnson and Zottneck had been assigned to the Perez case. This murder-suicide happened on March 6, 2014, two days after Johnson and Zottneck had been assigned to Dana’s case.

Worried that Dana’s body had gone missing and police couldn’t care less, I drove to the coroner’s office in Boyle Heights near downtown Los Angeles. The building looked familiar to me from movies and TV. It’s a famous brick edifice built in 1909 known as the “Old Administration Building.” To me, it looked like a haunted building in a scary part of town. At 1:15 p.m., I inquired at the information desk about the location of my dead sister’s remains.

Dana’s body was not in the possession of the coroner’s office at that time, I was told, and no investigator had been assigned to her case. I asked to be notified when an investigator was assigned. I stayed off the freeway as I drove slowly back to Long Beach. I was glad to sit in traffic because it seemed to be the only normal thing. I couldn’t understand why no one cared about Dana. No one was even mildly curious. It was as if women died of alleged yoga-induced head trauma every minute of every day.

At 1:58 p.m., Detective Johnson called me. I pulled into a parking lot. We spoke for 25 minutes and 46 seconds. Johnson told me he had seen surveillance video from Dana’s house. It backed up Huck’s story, he claimed. No further investigation was pursued.

I argued with Johnson. I told him that if he looked, he would find a mountain of incriminating evidence. I knew this because I knew Huck.

Johnson claimed that too much time had passed for police to go back to the scene and look for things they had missed. He said Huck already had too much time to think up answers to possible police questions. Johnson said he could not question Huck any further because he would “lawyer up.” The only way he could make an arrest, he said, was if Huck came in and confessed.

Johnson said Dana had a previous head injury from a yoga fall in Hawaii. Huck had told him all about it.

I explained that it wasn’t a yoga fall, Dana hadn’t hit her head, and she hadn’t been to Hawaii in years. Johnson dismissed everything I said. He sounded amused, as if it was a game, as if it was hilarious that I was upset. I kept saying, “Oh my God.” Oh my God, Huck was getting away with murder.

That night, I typed up my notes about the conversation and emailed them to my dad’s lawyer in Denver. The next day, I cut-and-pasted most of these notes into an official complaint (pdf) addressed to the Long Beach Citizen Police Complaint Commission.

A few hours after we spoke on the phone, Johnson filed his first report about Dana’s case. Six days had passed since he had searched Dana’s house. The report is brief, fewer than 400 words. I will quote it all. On March 10, 2014, at 4:32 p.m., Johnson wrote:

“On March 4, 2014, I (Detective Johnson) was contacted by Sergeant Richens regarding a suspicious accidental fall of a female, later identified as Dana Jones that occurred on March 3, 2014, at approximately 0945 hours at 7053 Stearns Street. Sergeant Richens further advised that Jones is on a ventilator and has no brain activity and the family plans to harvest the body.”

Johnson’s One Legacy report (pdf)

It’s telling that Johnson mischaracterizes the nature of the investigation from the outset as a “suspicious accidental fall.” Other police reports filed prior to Johnson’s characterize the case as a possible assault with a deadly weapon. Even the police photos begin with a title card reading in part, “poss 187 pc,” or “possible homicide,” referencing the statute number pertaining to homicide in the California penal code.

Why did Johnson deceptively mischaracterize the nature of the case in his report?

Notice, too, Johnson’s claim that Richens told him “the family plans to harvest the body.” On March 3 and 4, we knew nothing about plans to “harvest the body.” Not even Huck mentioned it. During this time, doctors were still running tests to confirm brain death before Dana could be declared dead. It wasn’t until March 5, the day after Johnson proclaimed Huck totally innocent, that my parents, brother, and I heard anything about organ donation. None of the other officers mentioned organ donation in their reports, not Richens, and not Moody, who had interviewed hospital personnel.

Johnson wrote in his report:

“Jones was doing Yoga in the northeast bedroom when her husband Cain Finn Jones heard a crash.”

Johnson’s One Legacy report (pdf)

Johnson states this as if it’s true. It’s the story Huck told. Without testing or questioning it, Johnson endorses Huck’s dubious claim as fact.

I should explain that “Cain Finn Jones” is one of Huck’s names. When they were married, Huck’s name was Carl Lynn Jenkins. After his stepfather Rusty Jenkins died, Huck changed his name to Cain Finn Jones in 2010. At the time, Dana and Huck had been married for 10 years. He was a middle-aged man. We thought it odd that Huck suddenly insisted on taking the surname Jones. Dana bristled at the name Cain. She told Huck it was an unfortunate choice for a contractor because, in the Bible, Cain was a murderer who died when the house he had built for himself collapsed on him. Five months after Dana’s death, Huck changed his name to Kane Finn Kealoha.

Detective Johnson apparently found nothing suspicious about these name changes. In his report, Johnson wrote regarding Huck:

“He checked the surrounding yards thinking the crash sound came from outside. He eventually went into the room where his wife was doing Yoga and found her on her back on the concrete floor. He put his hand behind her head and felt blood. He called for Long Beach Fire. They arrived and treated her injury and transported her to St. Mary’s Hospital.”

Johnson’s One Legacy report (pdf)

When I talked to him on the phone, Johnson told me he had studied the surveillance video. But if he had, he would have known Huck didn’t “check the surrounding yards.” The video shows nothing of the kind. I question whether Johnson had seen any of the surveillance video at the time he wrote this report. Johnson’s report continues:

“My partner (Detective Zottneck) and I drove to St. Mary’s Hospital and responded to the Intensive Care Unit (ICU) and located Dana Jones in Pod 5 Room 3. Jones was supine in a hospital bed on her back with her head facing west. She was attached to a ventilator and monitoring devices.”

Johnson’s One Legacy report (pdf)

Johnson makes it sound as if Sergeant Richens contacted him about a “suspicious accidental fall,” he and Zottneck hopped in the car, drove to the hospital, and found a brain-dead woman awaiting organ harvesting. End of investigation. Johnson writes:

“Due to Jones’ brain swelling, an emergency craniotomy was performed on her head to relieve pressure. St. Mary’s nurses rolled Jones so we could see her head injury on the back of her head. I noticed a 3 inch cut to the back of her head that had 3 to 4 staples closing the wound.”

Johnson’s One Legacy report (pdf)

Accurately recording verified facts about the case wasn’t Johnson’s aim, it seems. If it had been, Johnson might have taken the trouble to glance at police photos and count at least nine staples closing Dana’s wound, for example. Johnson writes:

“Dr. Heibron Jr. described the wound on the back of Jones’ head, fracture to the left occipital area of the skull and laceration to the lower occipital frontal Hemotoma. The ICU nurse advised us that Jones was given a brain stimulation test and it showed no brain activity.”

Johnson’s One Legacy report (pdf)

Did Johnson intend for his description of Dana’s injuries to be incomprehensible? In Officer Moody’s report, Dr. Heilbron’s statement is much clearer. Johnson’s report makes no mention of the suspicions of hospital personnel regarding Dana’s injuries. He neglects to mention that police had obtained a search warrant on March 4. Johnson says nothing about searching Dana’s house and seizing evidence. He omits these key facts. What is the purpose of this report?

It’s hard for me to believe this line appears in Johnson’s report, but it does:

“The family of Jones plans to donate Jones’ organs to ‘One Legacy’ (A Donate Life Organization) once she is pronounced.”

Johnson’s One Legacy report (pdf)

Johnson specifically mentions One Legacy and cites their marketing slogan to boot. It’s weird. It’s as weird as a police report stating something like, “The decedent was wearing Nike (Just Do It) shoes at McDonald’s (I’m Lovin’ It) when shot with a Winchester rifle (Gun that Won the West).” It’s what Adams and Harpster might call extraneous information. It’s an example of repetition, too. Twice now, Johnson has mentioned organ harvesting.

In such a brief report, why did Johnson repeat specific details about something completely unrelated to the question of whether homicide had occurred? Johnson concludes his report:

“We asked the ICU staff to notify us when Jones is pronounced because this a coroner’s case. On March 6, 2014 at 1035 hours, Dr. Mohsen Rofoogaran pronounced Jones. On March 9, 2014, Jones’ organs in her body were harvested by Legacy One and the body was later transported to Los Angeles County Coroner’s Office. The Los Angeles County Coroner’s Office assigned Coroner’s Case #2014-01724.”

Johnson’s One Legacy report (pdf)

For the third time, Johnson mentions the harvesting of Dana’s organs. In the space of fewer than 400 words, the word “homicide” appears nowhere. “Investigate,” “assault,” and “question” appear nowhere. The only time anyone is “asked” anything is when the ICU is asked to tell Johnson when Dana is declared dead. The phrase “suspicious accidental fall” appears once. What’s suspicious about it? Johnson doesn’t say. The word “yoga” appears twice.

By contrast, the words “harvest” and “harvested” appear once each. “One Legacy” and “Legacy One” appear once each. “Donate” appears twice. “Organs” appears twice. He refers to organ harvesting in three places in his brief report, at the beginning, middle, and end.

Johnson’s word choices suggest that the point and purpose of this report was not to document facts related to a homicide inquiry. Rather, the emphasis of his report is on the harvesting of Dana’s organs by One Legacy. Why did Detective Johnson focus on this?

Perhaps because he had fumbled badly. Whether due to laziness, intoxication, incompetence, malice, or intentional calculation, Johnson had botched the case. It was too late to preserve Dana’s body as evidence in a homicide investigation. Johnson was personally and professionally invested, now, in portraying Dana’s death as a tragic accident. In this, Johnson and Huck had joined common cause.

The only public official who would be looking over Johnson’s shoulder outside the LBPD was the coroner. With this report, Johnson sent a loud-and-clear message to Dr. Mark Fajardo and the coroner’s office. Perhaps Johnson knew of the 2013 case in which a boy was injected with fentanyl to expedite organ procurement. Perhaps Johnson knew the coroner’s office was inclined to regard homicide as pardonable if healthy, fresh organs
were obtained as a result by One Legacy.

The next day, on March 11, 2014, I emailed my complaint about Detective Johnson to Anitra Dempsey, the executive director of the Long Beach Citizen Police Complaint Commission (CPCC). The next morning, police reports show a sudden flurry of activity regarding Dana’s case.

In a report dated March 12, 2014, Detective Zottneck logged the receipt of Dana’s iPad and the DVR under tag number 806416 (pdf.) Why were the devices suddenly being logged eight days after they had been taken from Dana’s home? The timing of Zottneck’s report suggests that, prior to March 12, police had done nothing to analyze the devices. Had they even watched any of the video?

Within an hour of the devices being logged, Forensics Specialist Carmen Moncure logged two swabs into evidence (pdf), eight days after they had been collected.

That same morning, Detective Johnson reported picking up tubes of Dana’s blood from the hospital. According to the paper trail, Detective Mike Dugan transferred Dana’s blood to the sheriff’s department crime lab for toxicology analysis. Then-Sergeant Erik Herzog signed off on this transfer. Subsequent documents show that toxicology analysis was not included in Dana’s autopsy report. Toxicology screening was not even requested.

Curiously, months later in December 2014, Long Beach Detective Shea Robertson reported taking these same tubes of blood from the LBPD property section with no word about how they had traveled from the sheriff’s crime lab back to the LBPD. Months after Dana’s body had been cremated, Detective Robertson reported that he gave Dana’s blood to the coroner’s office. Why? His report doesn’t say.

These police reports cast serious doubt on whether the LBPD handled evidence promptly and competently in my sister’s case. I received a letter dated July 9, 2014, from Anitra Dempsey informing me that she had withheld my complaint about Detective Johnson from consideration by the Long Beach Citizen Police Complaint Commission. She wrote:

“It has been determined by the Police Department’s review staff and the CPCC staff that no further action will be taken on your complaint because the allegation that officers failed to conduct an investigation was either disproved by independent witnesses or physical evidence.”

CPCC complaint and responses (pdf)

A botched investigation still counts as an investigation, it seems.

In Long Beach, no one holds police accountable for botched investigations. Not the police department’s review staff. Not the CPCC. Not the district attorney. Not the coroner. Not even a judge.

The state attorney general’s office doesn’t get involved in this kind of thing, either, as they helpfully informed me. In a letter dated May 8, 2019, Casey Hallinan wrote on behalf of Xavier Becerra and the State of California Department of Justice:

“We suggest that you continue to address your concerns directly to the Long Beach Police Department.”

In other words, Detective Johnson and his staunch defenders who are willing to lean on judges and prosecutors when necessary to protect police credibility are the arbiters of justice for Dana.

Read Chapter 8: Foul is Fair