Busted

Of course, the protection afforded by both the union and the Civil Service Commission is, by its nature, after the fact. The trick is to prevent cops from breaking the law in the first place, and that comes down to basic standards. In the wake of the arrests of Ortiz and the Three Amigos, some officers have been quick to blame what they believe were affirmative-action hires. But Mancini thinks the issue is poor training, not hiring quotas. He says the key is to encourage instructors to root out risky candidates while they're in the academy, when the department can dismiss a rookie without union or civil service interference. Such a step would involve implementing more-rigorous background checks and psychological screening while the cadets are in the academy, which instructors currently don't have the resources to do. The NYPD, by contrast, tails questionable new recruits during their off time, in barrooms and in the neighborhoods, to look for any telltale behaviors.

Then there's the matter of time. In response to Boston's surge in violent crime—and the BPD's homicide clearance rate of 35 percent between 2003 and 2007, far below the national average of 62 percent—City Hall is under political pressure to put more officers on the street. In turn, say department sources, there's pressure on the academy to push candidates through. It's a recipe for trouble. "The research states if you rush someone through the training process," says Mancini, "you are going to miss something."

Former Boston Police Deputy Superintendent Bob Hayden has long advocated for changes in academy training that would go further toward heading off misdeeds. "Traditionally," Hayden says, "police departments do not train their people about the temptations.... People are going to try to give them alcohol, money, drugs. There are some women who are cop groupies, who will be attracted to them because of the badge. But they don't talk about that in the academy.

"Add that to the stress of police work, the highs and the lows of adrenaline rushes and long, dull shifts," he says, "and you have an atmosphere that makes young cops ripe to be corrupted, ready to be corrupted. By not preparing them in the academy, we almost create the situation where corruption can fester."

Furthermore, some critics say cadets aren't trained to recognize wavering in their peers. "The police culture builds up in the academy," says Mancini. "You stick together. You don't go outside the group. It takes a lot of guts to step forward and report corruption after that is drummed into your head."

Back in 2001, Commissioner Paul Evans walked into the District E-13 station house in Jamaica Plain for roll call and presented three awards for exemplary conduct. All three went to the same cop. According to one of the citations, which commended the officer for chasing down and apprehending a robber on Tremont Street, his actions were "indicative of the outstanding professionalism he displays no matter where or when called upon to perform his oath of office." That officer was Roberto Pulido.

Pulido, of course, would later become notorious for allegedly running a series of criminal enterprises that included selling steroids, protecting drug dealers, stealing motorists' identities, and helping manage the Boom-Boom Room in the illegal nightclub not far from the mayor's Hyde Park home. That all this culminated in the biggest BPD scandal in memory is well known. But now even an incident for which Pulido was lauded is getting another look.

On March 7, 2002, Pulido was on Grotto Glen Road in Jamaica Plain when, he said, he spotted a guy suspiciously eyeing a yellow Mitsubishi near the James Hennigan School. Pulido would report that he followed the man and got into a scuffle with him. Shots were fired. One missed, but two caught the officer in the torso, flattening against the bulletproof vest he had elected to wear that night (unlike in other major cities, Boston cops don't have to wear such protection, per their union contract). Pulido was rushed to Brigham and Women's, where the vigil that accompanies every shooting of a cop began. Mayor Menino showed up grim-faced, as did Commissioner Evans, who dubbed Pulido an "outstanding" officer.

Back at the crime scene, however, at least one of Pulido's fellow officers was puzzled. The circumstances of the shooting were murky. Pulido said he grappled with the assailant, but that the guy wriggled free and got away. Pulido never returned fire. Despite the close combat, the cop apparently couldn't offer much of a description beyond that of a 5-foot-9 black man in dark clothing. "Right away, it was weird," said a veteran BPD investigator who responded to the scene. "No one had a description of the perp. Pulido's story didn't make sense. Everyone was looking at each other like, ‘Who are we looking for?' But who is going to dispute a cop's story after he just got shot?"