Sheriff Seeks Better Ties With San Juan Capistrano Barrio

One night in September, about 20 people crowded around two men wrestling on a sidewalk in San Juan Capistrano’s La Zanja barrio. On the ground, a sheriff’s deputy struggled to lock a pair of handcuffs on a skinny Latino who officials said was resisting arrest.

As often happens in tussles with the cops, Evaristo Perez got the worst of it. Bloodied and bruised, he was treated at a hospital and taken to jail on suspicion of resisting arrest.

Within minutes, La Zanja buzzed with stories of heavy-handed behavior by the deputies who patrol this town with the postcard-perfect looks. And as had happened many times before, the version of what took place that night was much different in La Zanja from the deputies’ version.

Perez’s arrest drove another wedge in the chasm that has been widening for years between police and Latinos in the densely populated neighborhood across the street from the historic mission.

Sheriff Michael S. Carona acknowledged his department’s strained relationship with Latinos in San Juan Capistrano, and said he was working with community leaders to find solutions.

“If you had asked me in 2003 about our relations with the community, I would’ve said we’ve got a great relationship,” Carona said. “But I know that today we need to work on improving communication.”

San Juan is a sleepy town with a low crime rate, a place most famous for its swallows and Spanish mission. In a typical year, there is not a single murder and often fewer than a half-dozen violent crimes are recorded a month. But Perez’s arrest stoked the same sort of raw emotions that are exposed in a big, crime-riddled city.

Law enforcement officials say the deputy had no choice but to use physical force to restrain Perez, 22, who admitted running from police. Residents in La Zanja, though, saw it as another incident of street justice delivered by the cops.

One resident, Margarita Mendoza, 32, recalled angry deputies -- others had arrived to assist -- pounding Perez and spraying mace in his eyes after he was pinned on the sidewalk.

Jesus Banda said deputies mocked Perez by taking the man’s bicycle and riding it around while waving at onlookers.

“He got on [Perez’s] bike and rode it up and down the alley,” said Banda, 19. “He was just cruising, waving at us and saying ‘bye.’ He was making fun of us. The cops have no respect for us.”

A sheriff’s official described the situation as tense that night, and said that a deputy had to draw a Taser and order people to back away.

Orange County Sheriff’s Lt. Mike Beltzer, who commands the 30 deputies assigned to the area, said the bicycle-riding deputy was merely bringing it back to the crime scene.

In an interview, Perez said he ran because he had failed to complete a court-ordered drug education program. Three weeks later -- out on bail -- he was arrested again on suspicion of resisting arrest, Beltzer said. As in the earlier incident, he scuffled with a deputy.

Longtime La Zanja residents say relations between deputies and their community have been strained for years. The community is largely poor and unassimilated.

If one could point to the moment when relations between deputies and La Zanja residents began its decline, it would be in the late summer of 2003 when four off-duty Marines told sheriff’s officials that they were attacked by Latinos.

Hours after the alleged attack, dozens of deputies fanned out through La Zanja looking for suspects. They forced their way into homes of parolees and probationers, but came up empty.

Residents who did not have criminal records said they were harassed, roughed up and, in some cases, jailed without cause. The manhunt left the community charged with animosity toward police. Nobody was ever arrested.

Carona said he heard some of those concerns when he attended a meeting last year in the gym adjacent to the mission.

“I heard issues about people being fearful of the police. They were worried about the Sheriff’s Department being turned into the Border Patrol. The meeting was designed to open up communication with the community,” he said.

Juan Pena, 43, attended the meeting.

“They asked for our support, but we don’t have any confidence in them because they ignore our rights. That’s not good, because how can you not have confidence in the police?” he asked.

Beltzer, who has been at his post for 18 months, said “it’s in our mutual best interest to work together.” Latino leaders give him high marks for taking an interest in their community.

“Is there still room for [the Sheriff’s Department] to improve? Absolutely. Believe me, I’m looking for ways to do this. If we’re making mistakes, we’re only hurting ourselves,” said Beltzer.

Beltzer said that although the crime rate is generally low in town, there is plenty of criminal activity in La Zanja, where he said crimes go unreported and witnesses are reluctant to cooperate with police.

The first homicide in San Juan in three years was recorded this year in La Zanja. It remains unsolved.

Some residents say they feel intimidated by the enforcement tactics of deputies who patrol the city.

“I would be very blind if I was to say there isn’t unfair treatment of Mexicans,” said Catalina Durazo, 57, a 40-year San Juan Capistrano resident.

Durazo, who does not live in La Zanja, belongs to a community group of Latino activists working with sheriff’s officials to look for ways to improve communication. She credits Carona for wanting to improve relations and for intervening last year on behalf of a troubled teenager who turned his life around to become a sheriff’s Explorer.

Councilman Joe Soto, a lifelong San Juan Capistrano resident who lives in one of the city’s newer developments, said he received nine complaints during the summer about “heavy-handed” police tactics.

But he does not blame deputies for all of the community’s problems. One-third of the approximately 10,500 calls in town for police services to date originated from La Zanja, he said.

The problem, Soto said, is that Latinos are reluctant to report crimes because they fear that police will turn them over to immigration authorities, and are afraid of retaliation from the criminals in their midst.

Durazo said the most common complaint she hears is from residents who say they are stopped for no other reason than they are Latino, especially while driving.

Beltzer said he sees better days ahead.

“We’re trying to gain the community’s trust. Right now it’s kind of like steering a battleship,” he said. “We’re a good agency. My goal is to make inroads into that community and make it a safer community.”

hgreza@latimes.com