LOPES, AINA, WINGO, AND AKAGI:            
                                        EXPERIENCING POLICE MISCONDUCT
                                            A Citizen's Report by Alfred Arney

                                                           Introducti
on

          Early on the morning of September 26, 1996, I was assaulted, battered, and beaten 
unconscious by officers in the Honolulu Police Department. In addition to that, they accused me 
of pushing one of them, and charged me with harassment. I was eventually found not guilty, and
cleared my name, but felt that it was my duty - to myself, my fellow citizens, and the state of 
Hawaii - to bring my assailants to justice.  In pursuit of that justice, I went to the Police 
Commission, through the U.S. Civil Court system, and the F.B.I.
        As of this date - October 15, 2003, my pursuit has been fruitless. Not only have I failed, but 
the various agencies and institutions that are supposedly set up to protect Hawaiian and 
American citizens have failed. One might argue that if procedures and policies were followed 
according to the rules and precedents of law, then the system worked as well as it could, and I 
should be content that I, at least, had followed the law and done what I could. I don't agree with 
that argument. Just because the system is working the way the people who run it desire, that 
doesn't mean that the result is what American citizens desire, or need. Equal justice under the 
law, and the preservation of law and order was not achieved in the procedures and policies that I 
observed. Criminals are still employed at the Honolulu Police Department.
       Perhaps that is because the procedures and policies are inappropriate or insufficient. Maybe 
certain individuals are compromised, or biased, or just plain dishonest. What I observed in my 
few years dealing with the legal system in Hawaiian and U.S. Courts did not lead me to believe 
that they are dispensing equal justice for all.
       What I went through was a frustrating and educational experience, and I write this now 
mostly to share it with my fellow citizens. I was taught in American public schools that we as 
voters are responsible for those we elect, and the public employees we pay, on all levels. In 
order to be responsible voters and citizens it is necessary that we be informed of the facts as 
fully as possible. You can read accounts in the newspapers, or see stories on television, but 
these are from established media. This is the story from the victim's point of view. Nobody is 
paying me to say anything, or changing what I write for an editor's or publisher's agenda.
       The story is best heard in the order it happened, and in the words of the people involved. We 
start with my fullest recollection of the "incident."  I was hoping to give this testimony in court 
sometime in 2002.  I offer it to you now.


                               Part One: Testimony of Alfred E. Arney, January 2002

          Your Honor, ladies and gentlemen of the jury: citizens and taxpayers of Hawaii;
          My testimony is that at least one - and possibly all - of the defendants assaulted and battered 
me without cause or provocation, resulting in my being beaten unconscious. All of the 
defendants conspired in arresting me without cause, filing reports that brought false charges 
against me, lying under oath in court, and lying to the Police Commission.
         These actions took place during or in connection with an "incident" early on the morning of 
September 26, 1996. Some of the -aspects - of the situation probably need an expanded 
description so that you can fully understand what was going on. I hope that I can do that in the 
course of my testimony so these aspects can be seen in their proper perspective. Will that be 
permissible, Your Honor?
         Thank you.
         At the time of the incident, and for several hours prior to it, I was with my girlfriend, Wendy. She 
had been my girlfriend for about six months at that time. Before that - in 1995 - she was a taxi 
passenger of mine. I moved in with her and her family about January, 1996. This was at her 
father's house on Aiea Heights. The other people living there were her father, her three children 
and another friend/tenant. I was just a tenant when I moved in.
        In the course of our relationship, Wendy and I had found a mutual interest in shooting pool - 
billiards. We tried several of the pool halls in Honolulu, and hadn't found one that we really liked. 
On the night of September 25, we decided to try some of the clubs downtown, along Hotel Street. 
This was partly so we could invite a friend who lived downtown - at Marin Towers - to join us, 
and partly to see what the bar atmosphere was like, as opposed to pool halls. We parked (Wendy 
parked - we were in her car) at the Marin Towers parking lot, met our friend, and proceeded to 
Hotel Street about a little after 8 p.m.
         The first place we went to was Two Jacks bar. It was easy to see, just looking through the 
door, that they were not busy, and had an available pool table. We stayed there for an hour and a 
half or two, and in addition to playing pool, I had maybe two or three drinks. Wendy had had 
hepatitis B previously, was a very rare and light "drinker", and usually just had Kahlua milk. I had 
a couple of Budweisers, and I don't know about our friend. None of us liked to get drunk, and I in 
particular hate to pay bar prices. I want to make it clear that we did not get drunk or out of hand. 
These were basically "courtesy" drinks for the bar. After all, that's what bars' and clubs' 
business is - selling liquor.
        Anyhow, about 10 p.m. we left Two Jacks. It might have been getting crowded, or somebody 
else wanted to use the table, I'm not sure. We walked around for a bit and found another 
available pool table at Club Hubba Hubba, across the street from Two Jacks. We stayed there for 
another hour and a half or two, and it was the same as at Two Jacks. We played pool, drank a 
few courtesy drinks, and had fun. We left about midnight - as I recall, in a good mood. Nobody 
was drunk, staggering, or anything like that. There was no "scene" at either Two Jacks or Club 
Hubba Hubba. We headed back to the car.
        By the time we got to the parking lot, Wendy and I were having a disagreement, or a situation ... 
I'm not sure what to call it, or what it was about ... this is one of those "aspects" I mentioned 
earlier.        
        Every so often, Wendy would - as she put it - "bitch you out." This would be a one way torrent 
of verbal abuse, directed by her at her family members, or her friends, or me, or anyone who set 
her off. She would carry on for hours, putting down the subject's behavior, relatives, friends, job, 
co-workers, cat, dog, or whatever, on and on, and if she ran out of things to criticize, she'd just 
go back to the beginning and start all over again. These were never physical fights, just one way 
verbal assaults, and a lot of times you never knew what had, or would set her off. I'm not saying 
this to make her look bad, or to excuse anything I did. Like everyone else, Wendy had her 
reasons, and her problems. These "bitch sessions" were a part of being around Wendy.
        Nobody put up with this, though. Everybody who she lit into would at some point get up and 
leave. If it was her family or friends, or some stranger, she would let them go. I was the exception, 
meaning that if I walked away, she would follow me out the door and down the street, continuing 
with her session. Like I said, these were never physical confrontations, and I think that if 
anybody in this courtroom ever saw us, you would probably hide a smile behind your hand and 
shake your head in pity at these two fools. You would see two short people walking as fast as 
we could, me in the front saying "shut up and go home!" and Wendy behind, going, "Yip! yip! 
yip! Don't you walk away from me!"
        Usually we got along pretty well. These situations had only come up once or twice in the six 
months of our relationship, and nobody ever thought they were serious enough to call the police.
        Let me correct that, if I may. One of these episodes took place about one month before the 
Sept. 29 incident, and I was the one who called H.P.D., because I thought they might be able to 
help her.
        Wendy had started in on me, I walked out of the house -in Aiea- and she followed me. It was 
raining pretty steadily, and she was barefoot. We went down Aiea Heights, then along Ulune 
Street toward Honolulu. By the time we got to Halawa Heights Road (?) I could see that her feet 
were hurting -she was limping- but even though she was in pain, she kept following me and 
cussing me out. We came to a pay phone by a church, and I called H.P.D., asking if maybe they 
could give her a ride home. Two patrol cars showed up, and not only did Wendy refuse a ride, 
she started to bitch the cops out. Like everyone else, they left.
        Anyhow - on Sept. 26, 1996, shortly after midnight - I realized that Wendy was in one of these 
modes, and when we got to the car, I didn't want to ride with her. I had to work the next day, and 
didn't need to be kept up all night and exhausted. When she saw that I wasn't going to get in the 
car, Wendy grabbed my shirt. This was a nice tee-shirt that someone had given me as a 
Christmas or birthday gift, and I didn't want to risk it getting damaged, so I took it off and threw it 
into the front seat. That's as close as we got to anything physical.
   I walked out of the Diamond Head side of the Marin Towers lot, wearing only a pair of shorts 
and slippers. Wendy followed, and I think our friend went up to her apartment.
        My intention was to walk home, and whatever happened, to get to work the next day.  I've been 
hiking and backpacking all my life, so to walk from downtown Honolulu to Aiea - basically 5-7 
miles of level terrain - is no problem. From the Marin Towers lot I went down Smith Street to 
Nimitz Highway, and turned right, heading Ewa. Wendy was right behind me.  We crossed over 
Maunakea Street, I think Kekaulike Street, then River Street, and over the Nu'uanu Stream bridge. 
As I've related, Wendy was behind me, cussing me out, and I was saying "Shut up and go home!"
        Just after we crossed Nu'uanu Stream, we passed the entrance to a parking lot - I think it was 
A'ala Parking. As we passed that entrance, some H.P.D. vehicles pulled out, two squad cars and 
a Cushman, I believe.  I hadn't seen any blue lights as we approached the parking lot ... as far as I 
could tell they were just sitting there in the dark, and came out when Wendy and I showed up.
        Several officers got out of the vehicles and approached us.  I was glad to see them. I thought 
that they'd separate us, and I would at least get to walk home in peace.  When they got close 
enough to hear, I said "She's trying to argue, and I'm trying to walk away."
        One of the officers took hold of Wendy and pulled her away from me. Another one asked me in 
an awkward, jerky, huffy manner, "Can you... produce... any form... of i-den-ti-fi-cation?"
        Like I said, I was glad to see the officers.  I thought that Wendy and I looked silly and pathetic.  I 
thought that since I only had shorts and slippers on, the officer might wonder whether I had any I.
D. or not. All in all, I thought that the officer was joking, poking fun at us.  His manner certainly 
struck me as comical, like Foghorn Leghorn from the old T.V. animated cartoons. Unfortunately, I 
imitated him. As I got my wallet out of my back pocket, to show him my driver's license, I 
parroted him, saying, "Can you... produce... any form... of... i-den-ti-fi-ca-tion?"  I was smiling 
when I said this.
        The officers flew into a rage. On my left, two officers yelled that they didn't have to show 
anybody anything - they could do whatever they wanted to, and didn't have to account to 
anyone. On my right side, another officer was bent forward, his face contorted in rage, his hand 
clutching his uniform where his name was stitched on. "You want to see my I.D.?" he snarled. 
"Here! Here it is!  C'mon, have a *@^#%@* look!" (He did not actually swear, but indicated 
profanity with his manner and body language.)
I was shocked at their actions. At first I thought that they were offended because I'd imitated the 
first officer, but they were "going off" as if I'd actually asked for his I.D.  I tried to explain that I 
didn't want to see anyone's I.D., and if I did, what the agitated one was being so dramatic about 
would have been fine - his name stitched on his uniform.  They shouted me down, though. I 
couldn't get two words in edgewise.
        This went on for - I don't know - thirty seconds or a minute.  One of the officers indicated that 
he wanted me to sit down.  There was a wall about two feet high, ten feet or so behind me, and 
he said that I should sit down over there.  I was still standing with my wallet in my hand, waiting 
to show them my identification.
        What happened next is just a blur in my memory - I'm not sure what the exact sequence of 
events was.
        It seemed that none of them was interested in seeing my driver's license, so I put my wallet 
back into my pocket.  I was pushed - bumped - bullied - physically manhandled over to the wall.  I 
didn't get to sit down on my own; I was forced down onto the wall.  My face was in an officer's 
chest, and I could clearly see his name on his uniform - Aina.  Somebody was holding/pushing 
me by the back of my head, forcing me to look at Aina's name. My glasses were gone.
        In retrospect, that seems like the correct sequence, but I'm not sure.  It all happens at the same 
time in my memory.
        My head was being held in Aina's chest.  Somebody asked me, "So what do you see?"
        "I see 'Aina'," I responded. "As in 'keiki o ka aina', or 'kama'aina', or 'aloha aina'. And I don't 
see much aloha in this treatment I'm getting."
        "So. What are you looking at?"
         I was starting to get offended at all of this.  I replied, "I'm looking at his Batman suit."
        "Oooh, it's a Batman suit." This was the same voice that had asked me for my  i-den-ti-fi-ca-
tion.  Now he sounded like one of the Three Stooges, going "Oooh, it's a wiseguy." I heard 
laughter around and behind me.  Whoever was holding my head released it. When I could look 
up, there was an officer standing 4-6 feet in front of me.  I was sitting on the wall.  Other officers 
were moving on my sides, seeming to be positioning themselves, but they were at the edge of 
my field of vision, or out of it entirely.  The officer in front started badgering me with questions 
like "Who was I to ask for anything (I.D.) from any officer?  Why should I want to know?  They 
(police) could do whatever they wanted to, so why was I asking for trouble?  Why should they 
have to tell anyone anything..?"  These are not the exact questions - verbatim - but they were all 
along that line. I didn't get to answer most of his questions, but I do recall saying that they 
shouldn't be hiding behind their Batman suits.
         I realized that they had not asked me a single question about what was going on with Wendy 
and me. Everything had to do with why should I question the Secret Police?  I resolved to not 
participate any further with this agenda, and my last answer - to some "why?" question - was 
"Because you are public servants, and you should respect that."
        I sat on the wall with my hands in my lap.  The officer continued with his badgering and 
berating, but I said nothing.
       Somebody punched the left side of my face - hard enough so that I was lifted (slightly) off the 
wall.  My head flew way off to the right. I settled back, in a while, on the wall.  Nobody was visible 
to my left.
       The officer asked me more questions.  I looked him straight in the eye - as much as was 
possible without my glasses - and said nothing.
        After about a minute (?) of more questions, somebody punched the right side of my face. Like 
the first time, this was hard enough so my body lifted from the wall, and my head flew way off 
into space.
        I settled back on the wall, with my hands in my lap.  Nobody was visible to my right. Whoever 
was punching me didn't have the glandular integrity (testicles) to be seen.  The officer in front of 
me could obviously see what was going on, but did nothing to stop it.  Giving directions with his 
eyes, he was directing this scene.
        The first officer moved off to my left, and another officer took his place, holding my attention 
with his questions.  After about a minute, I was punched again on the left side of my face. Again, 
my body lifted, my head flew, and I settled back on the wall.
        I remembered being knocked unconscious years earlier, and how that experience had 
unbalanced me for years.  I didn't want to go through an ordeal like that again, but now I was 
trapped.  If I tried to run or fight back, the officers would claim that I was resisting arrest - even 
though none of them had said anything about an arrest.  I remembered seeing the Rodney King 
video - how when he flinched in pain he was beaten more.  I resolved to not make any move at all 
that could be construed as resistance, or a threat.  I told myself to remember as much as I could, 
even though my brain was being rattled.  Remember Aina.  Just try to hold/retain as much as 
possible.  I resolved that I would not rest until these criminals were brought to justice.
        At some point Wendy had started screaming; I could hear her some distance away.
        The first officer moved back in front of me, coming from my right side, and his substitute 
moved off to my left.  He resumed asking me questions, with a twist now.
        "How did I feel now?" he asked."  Did I still want to see someone's I.D.? Did I still think it was 
any of my business who the police were, or what they did?"
        I said nothing, but sat on the wall with my hands in my lap.
        A blow on the right side of my face sent my head flying again, and again I settled back on the 
wall and sat with my hands in my lap.  I vowed to never let this go.
        Remember Aina.
        I sat on that wall, with my hands in my lap, and let the officers punch my head until I was 
unconscious.  The last thing I saw was a police officer’s face, smirking and asking questions.
        The last thing I heard was Wendy, screaming.
           
        I woke up, as from a bad dream.  I was lying on the ground - it took a while to recall where I was 
and why.  I was behind the wall where H.P.D. officers had been beating me.  They were still 
there.  I could still hear Wendy screaming.  It seemed that the best course would be to make no 
move or sound.
        Officers gathered around.  One asked, "Hey, asshole, where do you work?"  I did not reply.
        After a while, one of them told the others, "We'll charge him with harassment, in case he makes 
a complaint."
        I was handcuffed very tightly, with my hands behind my back.  The position I was left in - on 
my side- and the tightness of the handcuffs pinched my nerves and circulation.  It would be 
months before the numbness faded, or until I could pick up my trumpet again.
        I was searched while I was on the ground - finally they looked at my driver's license. 
Everything I had was taken from me, including a hair tie that held my hair back neatly.  My hair 
was roughed up so I looked more unkempt that I would ever appear voluntarily. I was not "read" 
any rights, or informed that I was being arrested.
        I had resolved to make no moves at all, but at some point I was hoisted by the handcuffs -from 
behind, which was very painful - about a foot off the ground.  Opening my eyes, I saw that they 
were going to drag me over the wall to a patrol car.  I didn't want to be cut or scraped any more, 
so I stumbled semi-erect to "help".  I also realized that my glasses were gone, so I called, 
"Wendy...Wendy...I don't have my glasses."  I heard one of the officers say that he had them, 
then I was shoved roughly into the car.
.      They took me to the main police station, on Beretania Street, where I was photographed, 
fingerprinted, and “booked".  All I remember about that was that when the desk sergeant was 
taking my picture, I wanted to look defiantly into the camera, to communicate that I would not let 
this crime go unpunished.  The officer insisted that I put my head down, though, so besides 
having my hair messed up, the photo made me look far more like a rat than I do normally.
        I had enough money on me to "post bail", which is to say that $160 was taken from my pocket 
and appropriated as bail, and I was released in about thirty minutes.  Once again I started 
walking home (toward Aiea).  The army base Fort Shafter sits between Honolulu and Aiea, and as 
far as I know, there are only two ways around it (Shafter).  On the Mauka side is the Lunalilo 
freeway    (the old H-1), which, as far as I know, doesn't have a lighted sidewalk.  On the Makai 
side is Nimitz Highway, which is paved and lit all the way.  I mention this because I obviously had 
to take the Nimitz route, which would bring me past the scene of the crime.  I'm not sure which 
streets I took, but I worked my way from the police station to Nimitz, and again headed towards 
Aiea.
        When I came to the Nimitz/River St. intersection, I found Wendy talking with a security guard - 
S. Lauer. I talked to him (them), and he said that he was employed at that location, had seen what 
happened, and was willing to help me.  He gave me a card with his name and pager number on 
it.  We talked for a while, then Wendy and I left.
        No longer at odds, Wendy and I went back to her car at Marin Towers and headed home.  At 
some point she saw that blood was coming from my (left?) ear, and insisted that I see a doctor.  I 
had no medical coverage at that time, so Wendy took me to Kaiser Hospital at Moanalua, where 
her family had an account.
        At Kaiser, the doctors treated me for "multiple cuts and bruises."  They asked if I wanted x-
rays or a CAT scan, since I'd been unconscious, but I declined, as I couldn't afford it (the E.R. 
visit alone cost $400).  They also said that since I had been assaulted, they had to call H.P.D.
        An officer was sent to Kaiser - I don't recall his name - and when I told him that I'd been 
assaulted by H.P.D. officers, he said that he wasn't allowed to take complaints against fellow 
officers.  If I wanted to make a complaint I would have to contact the Police Commission.  He 
asked if I had done anything to "set them off."  I said that I guessed that they thought I'd asked 
for their IDs.
        "Oh,” he laughed. "If anyone gives us any trouble..." he punched the air with his fist.
        The next day I (and Wendy) made a complaint at the Police Commission.  We talked to 
Inspector Cluney, who took pictures of my injuries, and said that they would "accept my 
complaint."
        My court date for arraignment was about one week later. I could see that I was charged with 
"harassment".  I wondered if harassment included asking for an officer’s I.D., and determined to 
ask the judge if that was so.  If it was, even though I had not really done that, I figured I would 
plead guilty, write off the experience as a crooked cop nightmare, and remember Aina.
        When the date came, and I went before the judge, she stated that I was charged with pushing 
an officer.  That was so ludicrous and unfounded - so false - that I almost laughed aloud. 
Fortunately, I kept my wits, and pleaded "not guilty".
        It took three months - the officers kept missing trial dates - but we finally got to court at the end 
of December, 1996.  Your Honor, may I tell the jury what the verdict was?
        Well.

Type your paragraph here.

Type your paragraph here.

THE WINDS 

NAMAKANI

LOPES, AINA, WINGO, AND AKAGI:

CRIMINALS IN THE HONOLULU POLICE DEPARTMENT

A Citizen’s Report by A. E. Arney




Part Two:  Police Commission I




     I had been informed that in order to make a complaint against police officers, I would have to go to the Police Commission. I asked Wendy if she would be willing to help me with her testimony, at the Police Commission, and possibly in court. She was tremendously afraid that the officers might retaliate against her. On the other hand, she felt that she had been assaulted emotionally by the officers. She agreed to go to the Commission with me.

     I had been beaten unconscious at about 12:30 a.m. on September 26. Our visit to the Police Commission was at 1:30 p.m. on Sept. 27 - about 37 hours after the beating. One might think that complaints and interviews should be done as soon as possible after the incidents that they are about, but as I was to find out, I was still stunned and confused. I have since acquired copies of my Police Commission statements, and they are embarrassing. My grammar was poor, I couldn't recall the sequence of events, and I was lucky if I spoke in complete sentences.

     Nonetheless, I was able to relate to the inspector - Mr. Cluney - that the situation had come about as I was walking away from an argument with Wendy. We were accosted by several police officers, and when one of them asked me for my I.D. I jokingly asked him for his I.D. I took my wallet out so I could show them my driver's license, but when they didn't pursue the subject, I put the wallet back.

     Officer Aina "showed me the stitches on his chest very closely....I was told to sit on the wall, and they proceeded to badger or taunt me. They never asked what was happening with me and my girlfriend."

     I related that as I sat talking to the officers I was punched repeatedly on alternating sides of my head,  that I ended up landing on the dirt on the other side of the wall, and that before they pulled me up (handcuffed) one of them said "If he makes a complaint, we'll call it harassment."

     Mr. Cluney agreed to take my complaint, and took pictures of my injuries. He commented on how bad my cheeks looked - swollen and discolored. He photographed my face, mid section, elbows, and right knee. I believe that I gave him the pager number of my other witness, the security guard, S. E. Lauer.

     The interview was short - the copy of my statements is only one page long. Mr.LOPES, AINA, WINGO, AND AKAGI:

CRIMINALS IN THE HONOLULU POLICE DEPARTMENT

A Citizen’s Report by A. E. Arney




Part Two:  Police Commission I




     I had been informed that in order to make a complaint against police officers, I would have to go to the Police Commission. I asked Wendy if she would be willing to help me with her testimony, at the Police Commission, and possibly in court. She was tremendously afraid that the officers might retaliate against her. On the other hand, she felt that she had been assaulted emotionally by the officers. She agreed to go to the Commission with me.

     I had been beaten unconscious at about 12:30 a.m. on September 26. Our visit to the Police Commission was at 1:30 p.m. on Sept. 27 - about 37 hours after the beating. One might think that complaints and interviews should be done as soon as possible after the incidents that they are about, but as I was to find out, I was still stunned and confused. I have since acquired copies of my Police Commission statements, and they are embarrassing. My grammar was poor, I couldn't recall the sequence of events, and I was lucky if I spoke in complete sentences.

     Nonetheless, I was able to relate to the inspector - Mr. Cluney - that the situation had come about as I was walking away from an argument with Wendy. We were accosted by several police officers, and when one of them asked me for my I.D. I jokingly asked him for his I.D. I took my wallet out so I could show them my driver's license, but when they didn't pursue the subject, I put the wallet back.

     Officer Aina "showed me the stitches on his chest very closely....I was told to sit on the wall, and they proceeded to badger or taunt me. They never asked what was happening with me and my girlfriend."

     I related that as I sat talking to the officers I was punched repeatedly on alternating sides of my head,  that I ended up landing on the dirt on the other side of the wall, and that before they pulled me up (handcuffed) one of them said "If he makes a complaint, we'll call it harassment."

     Mr. Cluney agreed to take my complaint, and took pictures of my injuries. He commented on how bad my cheeks looked - swollen and discolored. He photographed my face, mid section, elbows, and right knee. I believe that I gave him the pager number of my other witness, the security guard, S. E. Lauer.

     The interview was short - the copy of my statements is only one page long. Mr.LOPES, AINA, WINGO, AND AKAGI:

CRIMINALS IN THE HONOLULU POLICE DEPARTMENT

A Citizen’s Report by A. E. Arney




Part Two:  Police Commission I




     I had been informed that in order to make a complaint against police officers, I would have to go to the Police Commission. I asked Wendy if she would be willing to help me with her testimony, at the Police Commission, and possibly in court. She was tremendously afraid that the officers might retaliate against her. On the other hand, she felt that she had been assaulted emotionally by the officers. She agreed to go to the Commission with me.

     I had been beaten unconscious at about 12:30 a.m. on September 26. Our visit to the Police Commission was at 1:30 p.m. on Sept. 27 - about 37 hours after the beating. One might think that complaints and interviews should be done as soon as possible after the incidents that they are about, but as I was to find out, I was still stunned and confused. I have since acquired copies of my Police Commission statements, and they are embarrassing. My grammar was poor, I couldn't recall the sequence of events, and I was lucky if I spoke in complete sentences.

     Nonetheless, I was able to relate to the inspector - Mr. Cluney - that the situation had come about as I was walking away from an argument with Wendy. We were accosted by several police officers, and when one of them asked me for my I.D. I jokingly asked him for his I.D. I took my wallet out so I could show them my driver's license, but when they didn't pursue the subject, I put the wallet back.

     Officer Aina "showed me the stitches on his chest very closely....I was told to sit on the wall, and they proceeded to badger or taunt me. They never asked what was happening with me and my girlfriend."

     I related that as I sat talking to the officers I was punched repeatedly on alternating sides of my head,  that I ended up landing on the dirt on the other side of the wall, and that before they pulled me up (handcuffed) one of them said "If he makes a complaint, we'll call it harassment."

     Mr. Cluney agreed to take my complaint, and took pictures of my injuries. He commented on how bad my cheeks looked - swollen and discolored. He photographed my face, mid section, elbows, and right knee. I believe that I gave him the pager number of my other witness, the security guard, S. E. Lauer.

     The interview was short - the copy of my statements is only one page long. Mr.LOPES, AINA, WINGO, AND AKAGI:

CRIMINALS IN THE HONOLULU POLICE DEPARTMENT

A Citizen’s Report by A. E. Arney




Part Two:  Police Commission I




     I had been informed that in order to make a complaint against police officers, I would have to go to the Police Commission. I asked Wendy if she would be willing to help me with her testimony, at the Police Commission, and possibly in court. She was tremendously afraid that the officers might retaliate against her. On the other hand, she felt that she had been assaulted emotionally by the officers. She agreed to go to the Commission with me.

     I had been beaten unconscious at about 12:30 a.m. on September 26. Our visit to the Police Commission was at 1:30 p.m. on Sept. 27 - about 37 hours after the beating. One might think that complaints and interviews should be done as soon as possible after the incidents that they are about, but as I was to find out, I was still stunned and confused. I have since acquired copies of my Police Commission statements, and they are embarrassing. My grammar was poor, I couldn't recall the sequence of events, and I was lucky if I spoke in complete sentences.

     Nonetheless, I was able to relate to the inspector - Mr. Cluney - that the situation had come about as I was walking away from an argument with Wendy. We were accosted by several police officers, and when one of them asked me for my I.D. I jokingly asked him for his I.D. I took my wallet out so I could show them my driver's license, but when they didn't pursue the subject, I put the wallet back.

     Officer Aina "showed me the stitches on his chest very closely....I was told to sit on the wall, and they proceeded to badger or taunt me. They never asked what was happening with me and my girlfriend."

     I related that as I sat talking to the officers I was punched repeatedly on alternating sides of my head,  that I ended up landing on the dirt on the other side of the wall, and that before they pulled me up (handcuffed) one of them said "If he makes a complaint, we'll call it harassment."

     Mr. Cluney agreed to take my complaint, and took pictures of my injuries. He commented on how bad my cheeks looked - swollen and discolored. He photographed my face, mid section, elbows, and right knee. I believe that I gave him the pager number of my other witness, the security guard, S. E. Lauer.

     The interview was short - the copy of my statements is only one page long. Mr.Type your paragraph here.