American Scandal - Police Corruption in Baltimore | Benched | 2

Episode Date: January 30, 2024

Following a series of questionable arrests, plainclothes detective Wayne Jenkins finds himself relegated to the desk duty. But when Baltimore is roiled by protests following the death of Freddie Gray at the hands of police, Jenkins seizes an opportunity to get back in the action - and bring more crooked cops into his orbit.Need more American Scandal? With Wondery+, enjoy exclusive seasons, binge new seasons first, and listen completely ad-free. Start your free trial in the Wondery App, Apple Podcasts, Spotify or visit wondery.app.link/IM5aogASNNb now.See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

Hi, this is Lindsey Graham, host of American Scandal. Our back catalog has moved behind a paywall. Recent episodes remain free, but older ones will require a Wondery Plus subscription. With Wondery Plus, you get access to the full American Scandal archive, ad-free, plus early access to new seasons and more. Join Wondery Plus in the Wondery app or on Apple Podcasts. podcasts. It's February 2014 in Baltimore, Maryland. Molly Webb is marching down the hallway of the state attorney's office, carrying a manila folder in one hand and a USB drive in the other. Webb is an assistant state's attorney, and it's

her job to prosecute cases built by the Baltimore Police Department. But recently, while preparing for an upcoming case, Webb received a piece of evidence that made her question both the validity of the charges and the integrity of the officers who filed them. But before Webb takes any kind of formal action, she needs to get a second opinion. And that's why she's heading to the office of her supervisor to show him the evidence and ask what he thinks she should do with it. When Webb arrives outside her supervisor's door, she takes a deep breath and steals herself. If she's right about the video on this USB drive, her boss is not going to be happy. Webb knocks on the door and her supervisor tells her to come in and have a seat. Good afternoon, sir. Thanks for making the time to meet with me.

No problem. What's this about? The Walter Price case. Walter Price. Remind me. Drug possession. Price was arrested by two plainclothes officers, Sergeant Wayne Jenkins and Detective Ben Freeman. According to Freeman's report, the officers were told that Price was dealing drugs by a confidential, reliable source. That same source then agreed to set up a buy as a sting. And when the officers put Price under

surveillance, Freeman said he saw Price stuff something suspicious into the ceiling of his van. So they pulled him over, searched the vehicle, and found seven grams of cocaine in a plastic baggie. Well, that sounds pretty straightforward. What's the concern? Well, I was all set to move forward with the case, but yesterday Price's attorney sent me this CCTV footage. Price's attorney sent you the video, not the police? Yeah, that's correct. Well, that's not great. It implies the police were hoping no one would find the footage. I know. Now that I've seen the footage, I have an idea why. Webb hands her boss the USB drive. He inserts it into his

computer and loads the video. So in Freeman's report, he makes it seem like the drugs were found almost immediately, but as you can see, that's not what happens. As the minutes tick by on the CCTV footage, Webb's supervisor grows increasingly concerned. The officers seem to be searching the van endlessly. Exactly how long do officers search for those drugs? Off and on for over an hour, sir. An hour. So where did they ultimately find them?

Well, that's the other thing. The patrol officers you see searching the van there, they eventually just give up. They couldn't find anything. And that's when Sergeant Jenkins steps in and finds the cocaine very quickly. Can I see that part of the video? No, because there's nothing on the video that actually shows it. According to Price's lawyer, Jenkins left the scene during the initial search, then miraculously discovered the drugs when he got back. So you're thinking Jenkins left the scene, got some drugs, and then claimed to find them in the van. I'm thinking that's a possibility, yes. Oh God, what a mess. All these cops think about is an arrest, you know? It's like they have no

idea that if they don't follow the law, then we can't prosecute their cases. Or maybe they just don't care because either way, the commissioner gets to count this travesty as an arrest in his stats. But that leaves us with the question, should I drop the charges against Price? I don't think we have a choice. This search won't stand up. And what about the officers? Well, obviously, this isn't definitive proof that Jenkins planted those drugs or that Freeman helped him cover it up.

But it raises questions, and it needs to be investigated. So, go ahead and send this to the police integrity unit, and you can let them know that I signed off on it. Webb nods and thanks her supervisor for the guidance. Then she heads back to her office to begin writing her letter to the police integrity unit, the division of the prosecutor's office that works with internal affairs to investigate police misconduct. Webb knows that she's doing the right thing, but as she walks back down the hallway, she can't help but wonder what kind of consequences Freeman and Jenkins will suffer.

Both officers are highly regarded within the department, and their records are clean, but this evidence is sufficiently damning that it could end their careers. In the past decade, Boeing has been involved in a series of scandals and deadly crashes that it could end their careers. if anything, can save the company's reputation. Make sure to listen to Business Wars wherever you get your podcasts. From Wondery, I'm Lindsey Graham, and this is American Scandal. At the turn of the millennium, the city of Baltimore had one of the worst crime rates in the country. Guns were everywhere, and drug dealing was prolific. To address this crisis in the mid-2000s,

the Baltimore Police Department shifted its approach to crime. They took the most effective officers on the force and reassigned them to plainclothes squads. The mission of these squads was not simply to react to reported crimes or 911 calls, but to go out into the streets and aggressively seek out and arrest repeat offenders. These task forces were given citywide jurisdiction with little oversight. One of the rising stars within these task forces was Sergeant Wayne Jenkins. Known as a hard-charging cop with an uncanny nose for wrongdoing,

Jenkins won multiple awards from the department, even as his tactics often went beyond what was legal. And by 2012, Jenkins' criminal behavior had taken an even darker turn, after he realized he could make a lot of money by stealing from the people he was supposed to be arresting. Soon, he started living a double life, playing the part of decorated law enforcement officer, even as he was repeatedly breaking the law himself. But as Jenkins became more brazen and brought more crooked cops into his orbit, his illegal actions began to attract attention, and soon he would face consequences.

This is Episode 2, Benched. It's 2014 in Baltimore, Maryland. Wayne Jenkins is sitting next to his lawyer, his arms crossed over his chest. They're in a conference room in the Office of Internal Affairs, and Jenkins is not happy about being here. He should be out on the street, not stuck here answering questions about a single low-level bust he made back in February. Sitting across from Jenkins and his lawyer is Michelle Bolden,

the internal affairs detective in charge of his case. But so far, she's barely even acknowledged his presence. Jenkins watches Bolden from across the table, shuffling through her papers, reviewing her notes. In her power suit and high heels, she looks more to him like a lawyer than a cop. And as far as he's concerned, that's basically what she is. Real cops don't spend their days sitting at a desk, going after their fellow officers. Finally, Bolden looks up from her file and reminds Jenkins why

they're here. She says some months ago, Jenkins and a detective under his command arrested a man named Walter Price. According to their report, Jenkins quickly found a stash of cocaine hidden in Price's van, but CCTV footage of the arrest shows that that's not what happened. Bolden opens up a laptop and angles it so that Jenkins can see the screen. It appears she wants to make Jenkins watch the CCTV footage, but he explains he's already seen it, and he's prepared to speak about what happened without watching it again now. Bolden cocks an eyebrow, but nods, allowing him to continue. Jenkins says that the video doesn't show the entire story.

It has limited angles, and there's a 15-minute gap where the camera was pointed away from the van. But he assures Bolden that the arrest was done completely by the book. Bolden doesn't seem satisfied. She asks Jenkins how they came to arrest Price in the first place, and Jenkins explains that the detective he was working with, Ben Freeman, had a confidential informant who told him that Walter Price was dealing drugs. The informant offered to set up a buy, and after he made the call, the officers followed Price to the arranged location. But Bolden pushes back, saying she spoke to Freeman, and he said he'd never worked with this CI before. And that's a

big problem, because arresting someone off a tip from a source with no track record is a violation of department policy. And as Freeman's supervisor, Jenkins should have made sure that Freeman was following protocol. Jenkins acknowledges this, but he still insists the arrest was good. He admits that when they searched the van initially, they didn't find any drugs. But then Jenkins questioned Price, who agreed to cooperate, maybe hoping for better treatment or a lighter sentence. And based on what Price told him, Jenkins was able to locate the cocaine. But Bolden just shakes her head. She says Freeman specifically told her that Price refused to cooperate. Jenkins shrugs and says he can only speak to his version

of events, which is when he went back and searched the van on his own, he found the cocaine exactly where Price said it would be. Bolden narrows her eyes, asking why it wasn't found earlier, and Jenkins says sometimes that just happens. One officer finds evidence where others have missed it. Bolden stares at Jenkins for a long beat and then abruptly ends the interview, saying she's got everything she needs. Jenkins can tell this didn't go well. And as he heads to the elevator,

he imagines all the ways this investigation might impact his career. He could be demoted, suspended without pay, relegated to desk duty, all of which could be very bad for Jenkins' other career, the one that involves his old friend, a drug dealer named Donnie Stepp. In March 2015, after several months, Michelle Bolden concludes her investigation into the Walter Price case. In her report, she writes that Jenkins is guilty of misconduct and neglect for his failure to supervise Freeman. Bolden will later tell investigators that she strongly suspected Jenkins planted the drugs in Price's van, but that she did not have enough evidence

to include it in her report. Bolden submits her report to the city's charging committee, an independent panel tasked with making recommendations about how and if a police officer should be disciplined. The charging committee recommends that Jenkins be demoted and taken off the plainclothes task force, but they don't get to make the final call. That responsibility is reserved for the deputy commissioner. But before the deputy commissioner can sign off on any punishments, a new crisis embroils Baltimore and its police force,

and Jenkins gets the opportunity to prove his value to the department. On April 12, 2015, officers patrolling a housing project in West Baltimore noticed three young black men walking through the building's courtyard. After more than a decade of aggressive policing tactics, residents of Baltimore's projects have grown to distrust cops on sight. So when the three young men see the officers nearing them, they run, and the officers give chase. Eventually, the cops catch and arrest one of the men,

25-year-old Freddie Gray. They handcuff him and load him into the back of a police van. But when they arrive at the police station 45 minutes later, Gray is unconscious and not breathing. According to the police report, Gray was arrested without incident. But when cell phone footage of the arrest makes its way to the public, it becomes abundantly clear that the police lied in their report. In the video, which was recorded by a bystander, Gray can be heard moaning in pain, his face twisted in agony as police drag him to the van.

So while Gray lies unconscious in a hospital, protests break out in the street. The public accuses the officers of beating Gray so badly that they cause a spinal cord injury. Then on April 19th, a week after his arrest, Gray dies as a result of his injuries. And as news of his death spreads, years of hostile interactions between the Baltimore police and the city's primarily black residents reach a boiling point.

Baltimoreans take to the streets, directing all their anger and frustration at the police. But the commissioner of the Baltimore PD orders his officers not to engage, explaining that any attempts to stifle the protests might backfire and make an already tense situation even worse. For days, this strategy works, and the protests remain relatively controlled. But on April 27th, the day of Freddie Gray's funeral, the protests take a violent turn. That day, Jenkins is in the surveillance room at police headquarters,

watching footage streaming from cameras positioned all over the city. Thanks to the Internal Affairs investigation, along with a separate misconduct charge, Jenkins has spent most of 2015 relegated to desk duty. But he's itching to get back into action. And as he sits there watching one of the video feeds, Jenkins decides he can no longer stay on the sidelines. In a neighborhood called Druid Hill Park in northwest Baltimore, a group of officers is getting overwhelmed by a mob of angry protesters. The police are trying to prevent the protesters from entering a shopping mall, but Jenkins can see that the officers are getting pelted with thrown objects and badly outnumbered. Jenkins can't just sit by and watch this happen. He needs

to do something to help. So he races into the hallway where he runs into another sergeant named Laverne Ellis and tells her what he saw on the camera feed. She agrees that they need to go help their colleagues. So the two of them run to the parking lot and jump into a squad car. Jenkins hits the flashing lights and heads toward the fray. Traffic is bumper to bumper, and as Jenkins maneuvers through the gridlock, Ellis asks what the plan is.

Jenkins says the first priority is to get any injured officers out of there. Ellis agrees, but they can only fit so many people in a squad car. But up ahead, Jenkins spots a Department of Corrections transport van. In an emergency, the police department can commandeer these vehicles to move platoons of officers around the city. Jenkins looks at Ellis and tells her he has an idea. He throws the squad car into park and runs over to the driver of the corrections van. Ellis follows right behind as Jenkins barrels past the driver,

holding up his badge and yelling that he needs the van. Before the driver can even respond, Jenkins climbs behind the wheel. Ellis hops into the passenger seat, and together they head toward the besieged line of police. All around them, protesters are chanting and shouting, but Jenkins remains focused. Adrenaline keeps him sharp. And when he reaches the mall, Jenkins jumps out of the van and rushes over to an officer slumped against a wall. Rocks and bottles are flying through the air, and the officer has blood streaming down his face. Jenkins throws his arm around the officer and helps him to the van, then rushes back to retrieve

another injured officer. And then he repeats this over and over until the van is full. But Jenkins isn't just here to save the wounded. He wants in on the action, too. So after all of the injured officers have been loaded safely into the van, he takes the keys and hands them to an unharmed officer, instructing him to drive the injured police to safety. Then Jenkins turns to join the fight. He pushes his way through the crowd until he finds himself standing on the front line, face to face with a sea of angry

protesters. He knows his colleagues are scared, but Jenkins is exhilarated, because this is where he's supposed to be. In the days after April 27th, Jenkins would be lauded as a hero by the Baltimore PD. Not only did he help protect his fellow officers, he faced off with protesters late into the night, and at one point he even reached into his own pocket to buy everyone dinner. This event would help cement Jenkins' legendary status within the department, and later he would receive a special commendation for his brave actions. But on the night of the 27th, Jenkins does more than just help his colleagues. While holding the line that night with his fellow officers, Jenkins hears about looting happening in other parts of the city. Reports start coming in that people are

breaking into cars, setting buildings on fire, and stealing prescription drugs from pharmacies. breaking into cars, setting buildings on fire, and stealing prescription drugs from pharmacies. This violence gives Jenkins an idea. So after the protest dies down and all his fellow officers head home for the night, Jenkins drives out to the site of a looted CVS. And when he arrives, sure enough, there are people with bags of pills walking out of the pharmacy. Jenkins stops them, takes the pills, and heads directly to the home of his friend, Donnie Stepp. Stepp used to get these late-night visits from Jenkins all the time. Every night for three years, he would be sitting at home when out of the blue there'd be a knock

on his door. He'd look out the window to see Jenkins, waiting to hand over bags of cocaine, heroin, or meth for Stepp to sell. So on the night of April 27th, when Step is startled out of bed by the sound of someone knocking at his door, he knows Jenkins is back. Step hurries downstairs and opens the garage. As soon as Step is outside, Jenkins pops open the trunk of his squad car, revealing two garbage bags. Step rubs his hands together. of his squad car, revealing two garbage bags. Step rubs his hands together. All right, what do we got? Heroin? Cocaine? No. Caught some guys coming out of a CVS. A CVS? Step peeks into one of the garbage bags to see thousands of pills. Pills? What am I supposed to do with pills? Well, sell them, of course. Man, I don't sell pills. I don't even

know what these are. They've got numbers and names on them. All you got to do is Google it. Step grabs a pill from the bag and types the number imprinted on its side into his phone. Oh God, it's a thyroid hormone. Street value is zero. Well, if something's not worth anything, just throw it out. But I got the whole damn pharmacy. There's good stuff in there. Oxy, Vicodin, Viagra. Yeah, all right, I can work with that. But for the record, I really prefer it when you bring me real drugs. Soon, man, soon. Step feels his heart race. That's what he wants to hear. He's been missing the infusion of cash that comes from Jenkins' nightly drop-offs of illicit drugs. So he asks Jenkins if he's being serious. Step thought he was in trouble at work. He asks if that's been cleared up,

and Jenkins explains that he's been acting the hero during the day's street protests, reminding the department what a valuable asset he is. He's pretty sure he'll be off desk duty, back in the streets soon. Step grins and grabs the garbage bags full of pills, nestling them behind some old camping equipment in his garage. He's feeling much more enthusiastic about selling these pills now that he knows Jenkins will resume bringing in his usual supply of cocaine and heroin soon. It's a very good thing indeed for Jenkins to be back in action. On January 5th, 2024, an Alaska Airlines door plug tore away mid-flight, leaving a gaping hole in the side of a plane that carried 171 passengers.

This heart-stopping incident was just the latest in a string of crises surrounding the aviation manufacturing giant, Boeing. In the past decade, Boeing has been involved in a series of damning scandals and deadly crashes that have chipped away at its once sterling reputation. At the center of it all, the 737 MAX, the latest season of business wars, explores how Boeing, once the gold standard of aviation engineering, descended into a nightmare of safety concerns and public mistrust. The decisions, denials, and devastating consequences bringing the Titan to its knees, and what, if anything, can save the company's reputation. Now, follow Business Wars on the Wondery app or wherever you get your podcasts. You can binge Business Wars, The

Unraveling of Boeing, early and ad-free right now on Wondery Plus. I'm Jake Warren, and in our first season of Finding, I set out on a very personal quest to find the woman who saved my mum's life. You can listen to Finding Natasha right now exclusively on Wondery+. In season two, I found myself caught up in a new journey to help someone I've never even met. But a couple of years ago, I came across a social media post by a person named Loti. It read in part,

Three years ago today that I attempted to jump off this bridge, but this wasn't my time to go. A gentleman named Andy saved my life. I still haven't found him. This is a story that I came across purely by chance, but it instantly moved me and it's taken me to a place where I've had to consider some deeper issues around mental health. This is season two of Finding, and this time, if all goes to plan, we'll be finding Andy. You can listen to Finding Andy and Finding Natasha exclusively and ad-free on Wondery Plus. Join Wondery Plus in the Wondery app, Apple Podcasts, On May 1, 2015, state's attorney Marilyn Mosby

announces that criminal charges are being filed against the six officers involved with Freddie Gray's arrest. For many of the citizens in Baltimore, the news feels like a long-overdue triumph of justice. But for Wayne Jenkins and many other officers in the Baltimore Police Department, it strikes a different chord.

To many cops, it now feels like they could be charged when things go wrong. Some say that if they get in trouble for any well-intentioned mistake caught on a cell phone camera, then they don't want to risk making arrests at all. Officers report clocking in for their shifts as usual, but deliberately not doing any work. In some parts of Baltimore, arrests drop up to 90 percent in the month following Gray's death. And violent crime rises sharply. 42 people were murdered in Baltimore in May 2015 alone, the most homicides in a single month since 1971. And as the crime rate surges, the mayor fires the police commissioner and installs Deputy Commissioner Kevin Davis

as the new top dog. Right away, Davis decides to double down on an old tactic, using plainclothes task forces to get the most violent criminals off the street. He does this despite numerous complaints from members of the community that plainclothes officers have a reputation for harassing residents with meaningless stops and planted evidence. But Davis, who transferred to Baltimore only six months before becoming commissioner, believes that plainclothes officers need a certain amount of leeway in order to do their jobs effectively.

So with his renewed focus on plainclothes task forces, Davis wants the department's most productive officers manning those squads. And if there's anything Wayne Jenkins is known for, it's getting results. So in the summer of 2015, Jenkins is put in charge of his own squad of three detectives in a plainclothes unit called the Special Enforcement Section. And a few months later, a deputy commissioner closes the file on the Walter Price evidence planting case. So with the Price matter behind him, Jenkins feels free to be even more brazen with his crimes. And now he has a whole squad of hand-picked guys under his command to help him.

One of those men is a 35-year-old detective named Maurice Ward. Ward had been with the department since 2003 and joined his first plainclothes squad in 2009, where he soon found that theft by police was rampant, that skimming a few thousand dollars here and there actually helped build trust with his colleagues. But when Ward joins Jenkins' team in the fall of 2015, he quickly realizes that Jenkins is operating at an entirely different level. One day, when Ward is out patrolling with Jenkins and another officer named Marcus Taylor, Jenkins spots a drug transaction in progress outside a housing project in suburban Baltimore.

Ward knows the area is outside their jurisdiction, but Jenkins pulls over and handcuffs the two men anyway. And then Ward watches as Jenkins essentially robs the men in broad daylight. He takes their marijuana and their money, and then lets them go with nothing more than a vague promise to follow up later. As the officers drive back toward the city, Ward sits silently, thinking about what just happened. Before joining the squad, one of Ward's friends on the force

told him to learn everything he could from Jenkins, and then leave his squad as soon as possible. At the time, Ward didn't understand the warning. But when he sees from Jenkins and then leave his squad as soon as possible. At the time, Ward didn't understand the warning, but when he sees what Jenkins does next, the whole picture comes into focus. Jenkins pulls over in a secluded, wooded area just over the city line, grabs the duffel bag he just seized from one of the drug dealers, and tells Ward to leave his police vest and cell phone in the car. Ward follows Jenkins and the other officer, Taylor, into the woods, and after a few minutes of walking, Jenkins stops and unzips the

duffel bag. Inside, there's $20,000 in cash. Jenkins counts out $5,000 for Ward and $5,000 for Taylor. The rest, he says, he's keeping as his own cut plus a finder's fee. Ward watches as Taylor shoves his five grand into his waistband and Jenkins zips back up the duffel bag. They both seem very comfortable with what's happening, but Ward has some concerns. He tentatively asks how Jenkins knows those two men won't file a complaint. He noticed a security camera facing the parking lot

so there'd be proof to back them up. Jenkins claps Ward on the shoulder and ensures him nobody's going to make a complaint, because if they did, they'd have to admit they were dealing drugs. Besides, Jenkins explains, if he'd done things by the book, then those men would be in jail, and the money and drugs would be sitting in an evidence locker. Instead, the men are free, and Jenkins, Taylor, and Ward are a little richer. It's a win-win for everyone. Ward wonders if it is, but realizes Jenkins is right.

The chances of them facing any consequences are slim to none. Jenkins smiles as he pats Ward on the back. He jokes that he can tell from Ward's expression that he's seen the light. Over the next several months, the men under Jenkins' command learn many of the secrets to his success. Among other things, they learn how to be selective with turning on their body cams and how to fake video evidence. They learn to keep BB guns in their cars, and that way if they end up shooting an unarmed suspect, they can plant one on the scene. And if they think a suspect has money or drugs in their home, they learn to grab the suspect's keys and walk right in to take whatever they can plant one on the scene. And if they think a suspect has money or drugs in their home, they learn to grab the suspect's keys and walk right in

to take whatever they can find. The one thing Jenkins doesn't tell his men is that he's stealing drugs for his friend Donnie Stepp to sell. In the spring of 2016, Jenkins and Stepp have been working together for around three years, and things have been going off without a hitch. Jenkins assumes that no one will report him for stealing drugs, because doing so would require the victim to

admit they had drugs to steal. But with the number of people Jenkins is stealing from, he's bound to target one who's willing to fight back. And defense attorney Ivan Bates is on the lookout for such a person. Bates first heard about Jenkins six years earlier from a client named Jamal Walker. In 2010, Jenkins arrested Walker and his wife for possession of marijuana and an illegal firearm. But Walker had proof that Jenkins and another officer had illegally entered his home before they obtained a search warrant. Walker had an alarm system, and thanks to the alarm company's logs, Bates was able to get the case against Walker and his wife dismissed. But nothing else had come of it, and as far as Bates knows, Jenkins never faced any disciplinary action. But since then, Bates has heard many more stories about

Jenkins. Still, no one else has been willing to take legal action against him. Until one day in 2016, when Bates gets called to represent a man named Orise Stevenson. At the time, Bates is overextended with cases, and initially he plans on passing the case off to another lawyer. But when Bates arrives at the detention center, he sees on the charging sheet that Stevenson was arrested by Jenkins. So when Bates sits down on the other side of the plated glass from Stevenson, he's eager to hear the man's story. Bates picks up the corded phone so he and Stevenson can talk through the glass. Stevenson does the same. Bates glances down at a copy of the arrest report and back up at Stevenson.

Mr. Stevenson, can you hear me? Yeah. Great. My name is Ivan Bates, and I'll be representing you. It looks like the charges against you are pretty serious. Possession with intent. I know what the charges are. Well, okay. Then tell me about your arrest, then. Well, it was crap. These plainclothes sons of bitches came up the street and boxed me in. And then they went into my home and robbed me.

What do you mean they robbed you? They took what was mine. I understand that, but could you be more specific about what they took? Well, you got my report right there. How many kilos of cocaine does it say they seized? It says eight. I had ten. How much money did they turn in? A hundred thousand dollars. Yeah, there was over 200 grand in my safe. What about guns? Three firearms and several magazines. Okay, at least they didn't steal any of the guns. But the rest, the drugs and the money, they took all that.

It says here there's video evidence of them opening the safe and showing that what they turned in was all that was in the safe. Oh, that's fate. I don't forget how many kilos I have or miscount my money by over a hundred grand. All right, I believe you. So tell me about Sergeant Jenkins. Do you remember him? Oh yeah. I remember that rat. He was the ringleader calling the shots. I see. And this

is interesting information, but still, it's going to be a tough case to prove with the amount of evidence they have. I don't care. I'm not pleading out. Jenkins isn't a cop. He's a damn gangster with a badge. I want you to fight this. I'll pay up front. I see. Well, it seems that we are in complete agreement about Sergeant Jenkins, and you are a client that I've been looking for for a while. I promise you, I will do everything in my power to get you justice. Stevenson nods, and Bates sets his jaw. Every day, he talks to clients who say their Fourth Amendment rights have been violated by cops who lie on their warrant applications and blatantly ignore the law.

Now, with Stevenson as his client, Bates sees an opportunity to fight back. He knows that Jenkins is the big star in the Baltimore Police Department, and Bates imagines Jenkins feels invincible. But he's not, and Bates is going to prove it. Jenkins feels invisible, but he's not. And Bates is going to prove it. He was hip-hop's biggest mogul, the man who redefined fame, fortune, and the music industry. The first male rapper to be honored on the Hollywood Walk of Fame, Sean Diddy Cone. Diddy built an empire and lived a life most people only dream about.

Everybody know ain't no party like a Diddy party, so. Yeah, that's what's up. But just as quickly as his empire rose, it came crashing down. Today I'm announcing the unsealing of a three-count indictment, charging Sean Combs with racketeering conspiracy, sex trafficking, interstate transportation for prostitution. I was f***ed up. I hit rock bottom, but I made no excuses. I'm disgusted. I'm so sorry. Until you're wearing an orange jumpsuit, it's not real. Now it's real. From his meteoric rise to his shocking fall from grace,

from law and crime, this is The Rise and Fall of Diddy. Listen to The Rise and Fall of Diddy exclusively with Wondery Plus. Throughout 2016, the crime rate in Baltimore continues to surge. The number of murders is on pace to surpass 300 for the second year in a row. And Police Commissioner Kevin Davis is determined to figure out a way to get guns and drugs off the streets and crime under control. To accomplish that goal, Davis turns to a plainclothes unit called the Gun Trace Task Force. Started nine years earlier, this task force was once an elite unit, tracing illegally trafficked guns and getting high volumes of firearms off the streets.

But in recent years, it had lost some of its luster and become more administrative. Now the task force mainly supports uniformed officers running serial numbers of guns found at crime scenes. Davis and his top brass think the gun-traced task force could do more. So when the head of the task force leaves his position for a federal assignment, they look to a new leader with the skills needed to return the squad to its former glory, Wayne Jenkins. By early May 2016, Jenkins' team in the Special Enforcement Section

has already made 50 arrests for handgun violations that year. And Jenkins is telling his bosses that his goal is to crack 200. That's the kind of hard-charging ambition Commissioner Davis wants to see. So in June of 2016, Jenkins is named the new head of the Gun Trace Task Force, and his team in the Special Enforcement Section comes over with him. Jenkins is excited for the promotion, and even more excited about his new team. Because Jenkins knows that several of the current members of the Gun Trace Task Force are as willing as he is to break the law to their own advantage. First, there's Baltimore native Mamadou Gondo, a 10-year police veteran who's been reported

to Internal Affairs for socializing with one of the most notorious drug dealers in the city. Jenkins has heard rumors that Gondo himself might be the biggest trafficker of drugs in the whole Baltimore PD. Then there's Jamel Ram. Not only has Ram been skimming cash while on duty, word has it he plans elaborate heists in his free time as well. Then there's Daniel Herschel, an officer so notoriously brutal he's racked up almost 50 internal affairs complaints. He's also been accused by a well-known Baltimore rapper of stealing money and planting evidence. Some leaders might balk at the reputations of this new squad, but to Jenkins, they're the perfect crew.

Combined with the members of his current team, who are all well-trained in the art of stealing while on duty, Jenkins believes the new gun-traced task force has the potential to pull off some serious scores. But not everyone on the new crew is excited about having a new leader. Mamadou Gondo has been growing increasingly concerned that he might be under federal investigation. So when Jenkins is placed in charge of the Gun Trace Task Force, Gondo wonders if he can trust his new boss, especially if he asks him to do anything illegal. For all he knows, Jenkins could be working with the feds to set him up. So on the morning after their first squad meeting with Jenkins in command, Gondo calls up his old friend Maurice Ward to get more information about his new boss. his new boss. Gondo paces the floor as the phone rings. Finally, Ward picks up. He sounds happy to hear from his old friend and new squadmate. Hey, what's up, Gondo? Not much. I was just wondering

how much you know about Jenkins. Is he a good boss? Well, I'm not gonna lie. Wayne's a funny guy. I mean, you know the type. Talks like he's all street when he's obviously from the suburbs. Yeah, I can see that. But is he cool? Oh yeah, he's cool. Be prepared to bank some serious overtime with him. For real? No, not real overtime. You won't actually be working that many hours. It'll go like this. A couple hours after the shift begins, Jenkins sends a group text telling everyone to break off. We're still on the clock, but we do our own thing until he tells us to come back to headquarters.

Then we work late and get paid for it. That doesn't sound too bad. How long does that last for? That's the best part. Wayne's tight with the bosses, so he gets whatever he wants. I heard he just got the lieutenant to authorize a huge overtime budget. I can roll with that. I bet you'll be making thousands extra every paycheck. Wayne makes sure of it, man. Well, that's good to hear. What about other ways of making money?

Is he cool with that? Yeah, man, don't worry. Just a few months ago, we pulled over this guy, O'Reese Stevenson. Wayne got his keys, and we just go into his house, open up the safe, and boom, there's 10 kilos of coke and 200 grand in cash. Wayne takes out 100 Gs, closes the safe, then we reopen it on video, only now it's 100 Gs lighter than we found it.

We log that 100 into evidence and split the rest. Oh man, that sounds like a good deal. I'm telling you it is. You don't have anything to worry about with Wayne Jenkins. By the end of the call, Gondo feels confident that even if he is under some kind of federal investigation, Jenkins isn't part of it. Gondo still doesn't necessarily like his new boss,

but if Jenkins is as good at robbing people as Ward says he is, then Jenkins could be a major asset to some of Gondo's other business ventures. So after Gondo hangs up with Ward, he makes another call, this time to his fellow officer, Jamel Rayam. Gondo asks Rayam to meet him in person, saying he's got an idea that could make both of them a lot of money. In the summer of 2016, Mamadou Gando and Jamel Rayam bring their idea to Jenkins. They explain that a few weeks before Jenkins took over, officers in another division asked the Gun Trace Task Force

to help investigate a suspected drug dealer named Ronald Hamilton. Hamilton had been arrested multiple times with large quantities of cocaine, cash, and guns. But Hamilton had been out of prison for two years, and now this other division wanted to know if he was dealing again. Gondo and Ram don't really care about whether or not Hamilton is dealing, but as they explain to Jenkins, if he has a big stack of drug-dealing money hiding somewhere, they want a piece of it. Jenkins smiles. This is exactly the kind of initiative he likes to see in the officers reporting to him. So on July 8th, just a few weeks after taking over the

gun trace task force, Jenkins teams up with Gondo, Ram, and Daniel Herschel to go after Hamilton. Shortly after, they stop and detain Hamilton and his wife, then search Hamilton's car and home. The officers find no drugs, guns, or any sign of illegal activity. But because Hamilton is a suspected drug dealer, the officers are nevertheless legally allowed to seize his property. So that's what they do. The officers find $70,000 in cash in Hamilton's home and decide to keep $20,000 of it to split amongst themselves. And at a restaurant later that night, the officers congratulate themselves on a job well done.

They've all stolen more money in the past, but together they feel confident that they'll be able to pull off more and bigger heists in the future, and Jenkins knows what he needs to do to make sure that happens. A big part of Jenkins' job is making sure his bosses know just how effective his crew is, and one of the ways he does this is by writing gushing emails about the performance of his team. So later that month, Jenkins drafts an email to the entire upper command of the Baltimore Police Department. Jenkins frames the email as if he's writing to his own squad, thanking them personally for how much they do. He says he knows that he pushes them hard and demands a lot of them, but every day they show up and make arrests. Jenkins writes that he truly believes that the men on his team are personally saving lives and preventing violent crime, all due to their work ethic and dedication. When he's finished, he hits

send and then has a brief moment of doubt. Maybe he's laid it on too thick. He knows there are always lawyers and investigators poking around, asking questions about the plainclothes squads, and that police command might interpret Jenkins' excessive praise as an attempt to distract them from the red flags around his name. But before Jenkins can worry too much, he gets an email back from the deputy commissioner. He's bought Jenkins' act hook, line, and sinker. He praises Jenkins' leadership and tells him to keep pushing. Another high-ranking officer responds seconds later, joking that soon he'll be addressing the sergeant as Commissioner Jenkins. As the responses continue to roll in, Jenkins leans back in his chair, almost chuckling at the idea that he was ever worried about this.

He's got this all figured out. And as far as Jenkins is concerned, this city is his. From Wondery, this is Episode 2 of Police Corruption in Baltimore for American Scandal. In our next episode, federal investigators begin to grow suspicious of the activities of the Gun Trace Task Force. But taking down an elite squad of police officers is more difficult than they imagine. If you're enjoying American Scandal, you can unlock exclusive seasons on Wondery+. Binge new seasons first and listen completely ad-free when you join Wondery Plus in the Wondery app,

Apple Podcasts, or Spotify. And before you go, tell us about yourself by filling out a survey at wondery.com slash survey. If you'd like to learn more about Baltimore's Gun Trace Task Force, we recommend the books We Own This City by Justin Fenton and I Got a Monster by Baynard Woods and Brandon Soderbergh. This episode contains reenactments and dramatized details. And while in most cases we can't know exactly what was said,

all our dramatizations are based on historical research. American Scandal is hosted, edited, and executive produced by me, Lindsey Graham, for Airship. Audio editing by Christian Paraga. Sound design by Molly Bach. Music editing by Katrina Zemrack. Music by Lindsey Graham. This episode is written by Austin Rackless. Edited by Emma Cortland.

Our senior producers are Andy Herman and Gabe Riven. Executive producers are Stephanie Jens, Jenny Lauer-Beckman, and Marsha Louis for Wondery.