Minneapolis, MN
Despite years of denial, Minneapolis police used secretive process for serious misconduct
Minneapolis police leaders used a secretive process to handle serious officer misconduct cases while keeping the details confidential, despite repeated claims to the contrary.
In public meetings and statements to media, police and city officials long claimed they use coaching, a form of one-on-one mentoring, only in response to the lowest-level policy violations, like uniform infractions or not wearing a seatbelt. But new court documents reveal that some of the misconduct quietly coached in recent years is more severe.
Three officers mishandled their service weapons, one of whom fired a round into the wall of a precinct.
Another failed to report a colleague’s use of force, which resulted in injury to an individual in their custody.
And another, who has since been promoted, let a police K-9 off leash, allowing the dog to attack a civilian.
All were coached, the documents say, meaning all records of the misconduct were shielded from public view.
The Minneapolis Police Department has used coaching more than any other means of dealing with police complaints over the past decade. Attorneys for the city say this gentler form of corrective action doesn’t amount to real discipline, and they don’t have to disclose any records to the public under Minnesota law. Critics have for years contested that the lack of transparency amounts to a rhetorical loophole the police department uses to keep bad behavior hidden.
Last year, in charging Minneapolis with a pattern of discriminatory policing, the U.S. Department of Justice criticized coaching as part of the city’s “fundamentally flawed” accountability system. Only one in four cases referred for coaching through a city oversight office ended up being coached, the charges say, and some allegations were “far from ‘low-level,’” including an officer who “smacked, kicked, and used a taser on a teen accused of shoplifting.”
The new court filings, made public as part of a government watchdog’s lawsuit, offer the fullest window yet into the police department’s convoluted coaching process. The records include nine examples of MPD using coaching to handle more serious misconduct than what the city officials have publicly claimed. They also show how city leaders have misrepresented this process in public meetings in the wake of George Floyd’s murder, even as they sought to mend fractured trust.
In May 2021, a group of top police officials and city leaders gave a presentation on coaching to the Police Conduct Oversight Commission (PCOC), a volunteer board created by the city to make recommendations on police policy. Members of the commission pressed the officials on whether secrecy around coaching allowed former officer Derek Chauvin to work for nearly two decades unencumbered by serious excessive force complaints.
Then-Deputy Police Chief Amelia Huffman said she couldn’t speak directly to Chauvin’s case, but that coaching is only reserved for the lowest-level violations, such as problems in writing a report.
“So… something like excessive force would not be eligible for coaching?” asked Commissioner Abigail Cerra.
“Yes, that’s correct,” replied Huffman.
But it wasn’t correct.
When a lawyer pressed Huffman about this exchange in a deposition last fall, Huffman acknowledged the Minneapolis Police Chief can, in fact, institute coaching for excessive force — or any other violation on the discipline matrix.
The Chief could technically coach a police officer for murder “to the extent it was a policy violation,” then-Deputy Chief Troy Schoenberger said in a separate deposition this February.
‘As discipline…you will receive coaching’
These revelations were made public in connection to a lawsuit filed by Minnesota Coalition On Government Information (MNCOGI), an all-volunteer organization made up of current and former journalists, attorneys, librarians and others interested in government transparency.
The lawsuit, filed in June 2021, alleges Minneapolis willfully misinterprets Minnesota public records laws by labeling coaching documents as private data. This practice has promoted a culture of secrecy, allowing the Minneapolis Police Department to operate without accountability to the people it serves, according to the civil complaint.
“We’re not telling the city it has to stop coaching officers,” said attorney Leita Walker. “What we are saying, is that if it looks like discipline and quacks like discipline — and if it’s for serious misconduct – then it’s discipline and it’s public. It doesn’t matter what made-up word the city uses to describe it.”
Walker and Isabella Salomão Nascimento, of Ballard Spahr, and the Minnesota chapter of the American Civil Liberties Union are representing MNCOGI. Walker has also represented several local media organizations, including the Star Tribune, in cases related to public records and the pre Amendment.
The city is expected to file its own motion asking Hennepin County District Judge Karen Janisch to dismiss the lawsuit on Wednesday.
The documents, including hours of on-the-record deposition transcripts of eight city employees, still leave open questions, such as the breadth of the more serious misconduct handled through coaching. But they offer many striking details, including:
♦ Coaching looks a lot like discipline. The paperwork is virtually identical to a letter of reprimand, which the city recognizes as discipline. Some coaching letters from the police chief explicitly say to officers, “as discipline for this incident you will receive coaching.”
♦ Coaching is sometimes offered as an alternative to formal discipline. In one case, former Lt. Bob Kroll called a group of coworkers the “lesbian Mafia.” He was given the option of a coaching session with the chief or formal discipline, the latter he could fight through the grievance process.
♦ Officers often feel that coaching is a disciplinary action, because it can feel like punishment. One officer even described being “strong armed” into coaching. The Federation has and continues to grieve B-level coaching administered by the Chief.
♦ When MNCOGI filed a data request for coaching documents, a city clerk summarily closed their request within three minutes — without bothering to identify, redact or disclose relevant records, even though dozens were considered public under the city’s definition.
‘Coaching…will not go away’
Leading up to the May 2021 Police Conduct Oversight Commission meeting, the issue of coaching was becoming a problem.
As Chauvin headed to trial for murder, court records showed he’d been the subject of at least 15 misconduct complaints, and the city labeled all but one as “private data,” meaning Chauvin was either coached or the complaints were dropped without discipline. Some incidents of excessive force were caught on video: in one case, which years later led to a federal charge and conviction, Chauvin choked and knelt on a handcuffed 14-year-old’s neck.
In August 2020, Abigail Cerra, a former public defender who’d also worked for Minneapolis as a civil rights investigator, introduced a measure in the Police Conduct Oversight Commission to ask the city attorney to reclassify coaching documents as public data. Cerra said at the time that Minneapolis seemed to be violating its own policy, which said discipline “shall” be imposed when a code of conduct infraction is sustained.
Later that year, the policy manual language was quietly changed to say misconduct “will subject the employee to discipline and/or legal action,” granting the agency more latitude on whether to impose corrective actions.
As several news organizations covered the push to open up these records, city and police officials continued to downplay the coaching process.
Assistant City Attorney Trina Chernos said in an email to a PCOC member that only the lowest category of policy violations — called “A-level” — are eligible for non-disciplinary action like coaching.
A city spokesman told the Star Tribune coaching is used for violations like “verbal tone and language,” and not “improper or excessive use of force.”
A WCCO report featured an unnamed Police Officers Federation of Minneapolis official saying “complaints can’t come from outside the department and result in coaching.”
All these statements were false.
In September 2020, City Council Member Andrew Johnson emailed City Clerk Casey Carl to ask for an update on a city working group to examine coaching.
Carl assured Johnson they were working on it with multiple departments, including human resources. “It hasn’t left our radar,” he said.
In March 2021, Carl sent an email to several high-ranking city officials: “The confusing issue of coaching as discipline has not/will not go away until addressed.”
The city addressed it by sending a blitz of its top leaders from the police department, city attorneys office and human resources department to the PCOC meeting to make presentations on the benefits of coaching.
Chief Medaria Arradondo described coaching as the “bedrock” of a system that allows police to grow professionally, used to “address an officer’s attitude as well as help with training.”
Huffman, after falsely stating that coaching isn’t ever used for excessive force, continued to say the police manual is written to only refer “low-level violations” to coaching. “And so, force violations — use of force violations — themselves are not included in those coaching referrals.”
None of the five city officials who presented at the meeting mentioned that the police chief also has the authority to implement coaching.
Huffman’s defense
In her deposition last fall , Huffman denied that she intentionally misled the police oversight commissioners that day.
Huffman insisted that she was talking about one pathway in the city’s complaint bureaucracy that leads to coaching — a combination of internal affairs and civilian review called Joint Supervisors. But in another pathway, the Chief may impose coaching after an investigation sustains a complaint and the officer is afforded the ability to fight it.
“It did not occur to me to talk about any coaching that came out of a chief’s discipline process,” Huffman said, in acknowledging that she and others who presented at the meeting “didn’t discuss every possible detailed part of the coaching process.”
Huffman, who later became the interim police chief, now works in the city attorney’s office, implementing reforms mandated by the Minnesota Department of Human Rights.
The City Council has yet to have a formal briefing on this case, which has been pending for almost exactly three years.
Judge Janisch will have 90 days to rule on MNCOGI’s arguments that the city violated the state’s public records law and should release unredacted copies of disciplinary actions “hidden under the coaching label,” along with the city’s request for dismissal, following oral arguments on June 26.
Read the court filing:
(Can’t see the document? Click here.)
Minneapolis, MN
Ellison, Minneapolis, St. Paul update lawsuit against Operation Metro Surge with new data
(ABC 6 News) – Minnesota Attorney General Keith Ellison and Minneapolis and Saint Paul updated their lawsuit over Operation Metro Surge with new survey data on economic harm.
Researchers at the University of California San Diego conducted two surveys tied to the amended lawsuit. The lawsuit says the federal operation violated the Constitution and caused lasting economic damage.
The first survey was done between February and March and included nearly 1,400 residents. It found workers lost more than $240 million in wages during the operation.
A separate newly released survey of about 900 businesses found more than $600 million in lost revenue. The updated lawsuit from Keith Ellison and the cities of Minneapolis and Saint Paul adds that new data to its claims.
Minneapolis, MN
Prince’s legacy still shines in downtown Minneapolis 10 years after his death
Minneapolis, MN
10 years later, our Prince superfan shares his Prince Pilgrimage
April 21, 2016.
Ten years later, that day still doesn’t seem real to me.
I was sitting in the newsroom of The Montclair Times in the early afternoon when word came that Prince had died.
I was incredulous. One of my musical heroes was gone. No way.
I was skeptical because I am a reporter. But also because it was Prince — a superstar so secretive and controlling of his music and public image that you could imagine he would have to give his permission to let the world know of his demise.
As the day passed, videos showed grieving fans standing outside his home and music studio complex, Paisley Park, not far from his beloved Minneapolis. That’s when the reality dawned on me.
Prince Rogers Nelson had gone 2 the afterworld at only 57 years old.
He was gone so young — he had so much more music in him to record, release and perform in public for an adoring audience. He died alone after collapsing in an elevator at his complex.
Those things made me sad.
But I was also annoyed at myself. For not being a better aficionado of his music — by never seeing him in person and not collecting every piece of music he ever recorded.
After a few days of listening to the radio and online to “Purple Rain” and “1999” being played ad nauseam, I also heard lesser-known cuts like the heartbreakingly melancholic and sadly appropriate “Sometimes It Snows In April.”
When I heard the depressing reports that he died due to an accidental fentanyl overdose, I resolved to pay proper tribute to The Purple One.
I would go to Minnesota on a Prince Pilgrimage.
‘Nothing Compares 2 U’
April to June 2016.
I said I would go to Minneapolis, to Prince’s home ground, to pay my respects to him. I didn’t think I would go through with booking a ticket on United Airlines from Newark for the weekend before his birthday.
I had used up most of my vacation days and had one to spare, but not another to stay through Prince’s actual born day. Just my luck.
At least I was fulfilling a commitment to an artist I adore.
I wouldn’t say I was a fanatic for his Royal Badness (one of the many nicknames he carried in his lifetime). But he’s one of the few musicians who really moved me.
I heard his music growing up in the 1980s in Jersey City as a matter of course when the radio dial was set on R&B or pop music stations like KISS-FM and Z-100.
When Prince’s sixth studio album, “Purple Rain,” was released in the summer of 1984, it was a revolution that pushed the rising star into the stratosphere.
I couldn’t go anywhere without hearing the screeching guitar and chanting of Prince that provided the intro to “When Doves Cry,” or the rhythmic strumming of the guitar and the clashing electric drums that start off the album’s title song.
However, it was watching “Purple Rain,” the movie, that put me on the Prince Express. It didn’t matter that he couldn’t act to the satisfaction of critics or that the plot seemed corny. I was just absolutely enthralled by him and his band, The Revolution, tearing through numbers that were a mélange of funk, rock and new wave, while in a musical rivalry with another badass, Morris Day, and his group.
My 13-year-old self also developed a crush on the leading lady, Apollonia Kotero, for her sultry voice and because she stripped nude to purify herself in the waters of Lake Minnetonka. It blew my mind then (and still blows my mind now).
Prince would remain in the background of my music listening as the years passed.
If it wasn’t his voice, it was the voice of others singing his songs, because he was as adept a songwriter as he was a performer. “I Feel for You” (Chaka Khan), “Manic Monday” (The Bangles) and “Nothing Compares 2 U” (Sinéad O’Connor) are some of the major hits that came from his pen.
The first vinyl album I ever got, in my teens was “Around the World in a Day,” his 1985 anti-commercial and purposely obscured follow-up to “Purple Rain.”
In college and afterward, whenever I had a few bucks in my pocket, I bought various albums on CD: “Diamonds and Pearls,” “The Black Album,” “The Gold Experience” and “Rave Un2 the Joy Fantastic,” and “Lovesexy” on cassette. I paid for a ticket to watch what may be Spike Lee’s worst movie, “Girl 6,” in part to hear Prince’s music.
But it wasn’t just Prince’s virtuoso musicianship that made me a believer. It was also his personality, confounding and infuriating at the same time, that intrigued me.
I chatted with NYU classmates about how he slept no more than two hours a day because he worked so hard in the studio, playing all the instruments and producing every track. Yet he looked like he hadn’t aged a minute.
You would hear stories of him boosting artists that he admired by having them play on his albums and in concert. Then you would hear stories of his unkindness and controlling nature toward his bandmates and others in his inner circle.
He was a man who attained a level of stardom that demanded he bask in the spotlight at all times. Then there was the man who operated in secrecy and would alternate between the public, large-scale appearances and his surprise late-night concerts at small venues.
He was a true Gemini.
In the late spring of 2016, I was taking in all of who Prince was, as he was no longer among us mere mortals, while preparing to pay homage to him.
‘MPLS’ and ‘Uptown’
June 3 to 5, 2016.
“Rock ‘n’ Roll Is Alive! (And It Lives in Minneapolis)”
Prince’s 1993 song popped into my head as the United Airlines plane landed at Minneapolis-Saint Paul International Airport around 10:30 p.m. on June 3.
In the morning, my Prince Pilgrimage was underway as I took a bus near my hotel toward downtown Minneapolis.
While on the bus, I could see out my window why he spent nearly his entire life in or near this city, and created songs like “MPLS” and “Uptown” that presented his hometown to the world.
The widest boulevards I have ever seen outside of Paris. The streets where you saw yards with no fences and many trees. The heat normally expected in late spring was tempered by the Minnesota coolness.
I had an itinerary of the stops I needed to make on a sunny Saturday.
First Avenue and 7th Street Entry was a Greyhound bus depot converted into two music venues starting in the early 1970s. On the wall outside, a giant painted gold star etched with the name PRINCE. Only fitting, as the “Purple Rain” movie was filmed inside First Avenue.
539 North Newton Ave. in the northern part of Minneapolis is where a teenage Mr. Nelson lived with his dad for a short time until he was thrown out.
When I stopped by to view the three-bedroom house, an African American couple was chatting up a man standing outside the house. After they were done, it was my turn to engage Maurice Phillips, Prince’s former bodyguard, who married his boss’ sister Tyka.
I went into reporter mode to get the inside scoop from him on my favorite recording artist.
What was Prince like? “He’s just a normal kind of guy like us. He put on his pants the same kind of way.”
Are there other thoughts about Prince you want to share? “No. But I know Prince is looking down. I got to get done with this yard work.”
Later, I made my way to the Parkway Theater in South Minneapolis for what I thought was the best way to mourn the man: “This Thing Called Life — The Prince Tribute.”
Julius Collins, on lead vocals, was backed by members of Prince’s 1990’s band, the New Power Generation, along with other singers and instrumentalists. They regaled attendees with renditions of Prince songs while photos and videos of him played on a screen behind them.
Collins’ voice boomed as he sang, “Good times were rolling/She started dancing in the streets,” (“Uptown”), “Do I believe in God?/Do I believe in me? — Controversy” (“Controversy”), and “Police ain’t got no gun/You don’t have to run” (“DMSR”).
It was the perfect end to day one of the pilgrimage. I got back to my hotel in the late evening to have a meal and prepare for day two.
I should have skipped the takeout from the nearby fast-casual joint, because the resulting heartburn had me down for the count — and nixed plans to visit the last stop on the pilgrimage: Paisley Park.
Yet I had a Plan B for the following day, so I wouldn’t let Prince down.
At 2000 Fourth Avenue South in Minneapolis is Electric Fetus, the iconic record store where Prince reportedly made his last public appearance and last music purchases five days before he died.
On my shopping list was his shopping list:
- Stevie Wonder, “Talking Book.”
- Chambers Brothers, “The Time Has Come.”
- Joni Mitchell, “Hejira.”
- The Swan Silvertones, “Inspirational Gospel Classics.”
- Missing Persons, “The Best Of Missing Persons.”
- Santana, “Santana IV.”
I got only three of those CDs, as the others were (unsurprisingly) sold out. I couldn’t have regrets, because, in a weird way, it was the closest to being there when he was there, the closest I would ever get to meeting him.
His famous opening line to “Let’s Go Crazy” also came to mind: “Dearly beloved. We are gathered here today to get through this thing called ‘life.’”
RIP Prince (June 7, 1958-April 21, 2016).
Ricardo Kaulessar covers race, immigration, and culture for NorthJersey.com. For unlimited access to the most important news from your local community, please subscribe or activate your digital account today.
Email: kaulessar@northjersey.com
Twitter/X: @ricardokaul
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