This post first appeared in the Morning Report.
On Friday, Voice of San Diego revealed that an ex-sheriff’s deputy convicted of assaulting women had a new role as a chaplain counseling cops in crisis for a Christian nonprofit. Just days later, the organization announced it had cut ties with the man.
More than 20 women accused the ex-deputy, Ricky Fischer, of a range of abuses. They included stalking and groping and even forcing a woman who called the Sheriff’s Office for help after receiving domestic violence threats to perform oral sex on him. Fischer ultimately pleaded guilty to a half dozen offenses related to his assaults. San Diego County taxpayers footed the bill for the about $10 million paid out to victims in a civil settlement.
Even given that sordid background, the Christian Law Enforcement Fellowship, whose mission is to provide mentorship and counseling to police officers, decided to bring him on as a chaplain. On Tuesday, Jerry Hara, the organization’s president, released a statement apologizing for the decision and announcing Fischer was no longer affiliated with the nonprofit.
“In retrospect, we were overzealous in our desire to help him through his redemption journey. Regrettably, we did not give sufficient consideration for the unintentional damage we caused the victims, law enforcement agencies in the county, as well as the taxpayers,” Hara wrote in a statement.
The revelation that Fischer could be creeping back into public life in such a sensitive capacity outraged state Sen. Catherine Blakespear.
“When I saw your article, it literally made my blood boil,” Blakespear said.
“Law enforcement has tremendous authority that we give them to be able to enforce our laws. His violation of that for his own sexual gratification to force women into the horrible sexual assaults that he did, it’s beyond the pale,” she said. “The possibility that a sexual predator who coerced women while wearing the badge … that there would be some elevation of that man to give guidance to other officers in a spiritual realm, it was so egregious.”
Blakespear said the piece “kicked off a flurry of activity.” She contacted Sheriff Kelly Martinez, who she said shared her outrage with the decision. She also contacted the local delegation of state senators and assemblymembers and District Attorney Summer Stephan, all of whom committed to push CLEF to distance itself from Fischer.
Ultimately, though, it was Martinez who forced the organization to cut ties, Blakespear said. And though she’s relieved with the decision, she said she “could not even conceive of the judgment that went into the decision” to bring Fischer on in the first place.
“I’m glad that they made it right, but they shouldn’t have gotten themselves in this situation in the first place,” Blakespear said. “There needs to be a complete rejection of anything to do with him.”
In a call with CLEF’s leadership, Martinez said she told them it was “disgraceful” that the organization would bring on Fischer given his background. It was particularly damaging, she said, because of the way his actions had eroded the community’s trust in law enforcement.
“It was shocking that he was working in a capacity of this type of responsibility and with this kind of authority. For him to be associated with law enforcement in a chaplaincy role was very offensive to me,” Martinez said. “I’m grateful that they did remove him from the organization … I don’t think they really understood or recognized the harm that an action like this would make.”
Dan Gilleon, who represented 23 of Fischer’s victims, was unimpressed by CLEF’s about-face. To him, the response sounded less like an organization that genuinely believed it had erred, and more like one scrambling to cobble together a face-saving response.
One thing was clear, though: the organization’s decision to hire Fischer seemed to have reopened the wounds of many of his victims who were years later still coping with the impact of his abuses.
In the days after the initial article was published, Gilleon said many of the victims he represented emailed his office. They all thought it was “ridiculous” that the organization would partner with Fischer and “allow him to regain some level of authority” over anyone, let alone cops.
But many were also worried about Fischer being out of prison in the first place. They were even more distressed that he hadn’t been required to register as a sex offender. One client asked to meet with Gilleon’s team.
“What they wanted was for him to not be able to hurt anybody else. By CLEF doing what they did, it was potentially allowing a predator back in to … potentially harm again,” Gilleon said.
“I don’t know if he is repentant,” Gilleon continued, “I just know that my clients always have in the back of their mind that they don’t want this to happen again and they want the truth to always be known.”
Fisher was also a contributing factor in the death of unarmed Lucky Phounsy by SDPD, which received a record-breaking $85M jury award. And SLEF knew that too.