It
seemed that the Broward Sheriff's Office had neatly
arranged Keith King's future date with the State of
Florida's electric chair. Detectives had built a case
against the teenager for the murder of one of their own,
Deputy Patrick Behan, who was gunned down in 1990.
Homicide-unit investigators had a witness who identified
King as being at the scene of the crime. Others swore
that King and his then-14-year-old codefendant, Tim
Brown, had boasted of shooting the cop. And, in the coup
de grāce, BSO detectives extracted a confession from
King.
The
King indictment was the culmination of one of the most
intense investigations in Broward history, with as many
as 50 deputies and thousands of man-hours involved.
Brown, the first to be tried, was convicted and
sentenced to life in prison without parole. During
Brown's trial, assistant state attorney Chuck Morton
declared in court that it was King who had coldly pulled
the trigger on Behan, whom the prosecutor declared had
been killed on a random, drug-addled dare.
But
King would never make it to Death Row. Instead, as
potential jurors were being chosen to try him in March
1994, Morton decided to cut King a deal. The prosecutor
didn't want a trial; he conceded publicly at the time
that his case wasn't very strong. That admission was a
gross understatement. In fact, the case was in a
shambles.
Morton's offer to King confirmed just how sorry
the BSO investigation had been: 15 years. And that
prison sentence would also cover four other, unrelated
felonies -- three sexual batteries and an armed robbery
-- King faced at the time that could have put him away
for life. In effect, the cop-killing was erased from the
board, and King was assured that, with time off for good
behavior, he would be a free man before his 25th
birthday.
King accepted the offer as a plea of convenience,
refusing to admit he murdered Behan. And, with that
remarkable deal, the Behan murder case was officially
closed.
Until last year, that is, when a former BSO
detention deputy named Andrew Hughray Johnson boasted to
undercover agents that he had killed the deputy. An
extensive BSO investigation that ended this April found
insufficient evidence to file charges against Johnson,
who now denies any involvement. The new claims prompted
Gov. Jeb Bush last week to order the Florida Department
of Law Enforcement to review the entire case.
If
FDLE does at least a serviceable job, the agency will
find its way to the heretofore confidential file of
private investigator Randy MacCoy, who worked on King's
defense for two years. While evidence contained in
public court archives casts considerable doubt on King's
guilt, MacCoy's investigation virtually exonerates his
former client and completely discredits the BSO
investigation.
Deputies' work on the case played out like a
movie about bad cops. Several witnesses complained that
detectives shackled them to the floor, promised leniency
in their own crimes, and coerced them into implicating
King in the murder. By the time the trial was set to
begin, everyone who had accused King had recanted. King
himself claims he was physically abused and manipulated
into his confession -- which was full of untenable
contradictions. Ultimately, the case against King not
only lacks evidence; it also makes no sense.
Some witnesses held fast to their contention that
Brown, who is still in prison, had boasted of the
murder; MacCoy privately concluded that Brown was likely
involved in the killing. In his estimation, another man
was much more likely to have been with Brown that night:
Keith Maddox, a violent felon now 35 years old and in
prison. Maddox, who has never before been publicly named
as a suspect, may well be innocent of the murder, but,
as MacCoy puts it, "everything kept pointing at him as
the perpetrator."
The
private investigator's intriguing theory is that
detectives didn't just get the wrong man.
They got the wrong Keith.
At
1:42 a.m. on November 13, 1990, while Patrick Behan was
sitting in his patrol car in the parking lot of a Circle
K store at 3990 W. Hallandale Blvd. in Pembroke Park,
someone fired a .38-caliber bullet into his skull. The
deputy's blood splattered onto the report he was writing
on a theft of cigarettes. There are no known witnesses,
but forensic evidence shows that he was shot at near
point-blank range through his partially open
driver's-side window. The bullet pierced Behan's left
hand, which was raised in defense, before it struck his
face.
The
slain deputy was by all accounts an upstanding and
decent person. An extensive investigation into Behan's
life found that he was a clean-living man whose chief
goal was to start a family with his new wife.
The
death of a good cop, however, exposed a nest of bad
ones. One of the first tipsters to come forward was a
Circle K clerk named Jackie Bain, who said she gave
sexual favors to several deputies in exchange for
protection. Though Bain had a history of mental illness,
an investigation not only substantiated her claim but
found evidence that deputies were engaging in further
criminal activity at a warehouse near the Circle K.
Bain's most explosive allegation, however, was
never borne out: that a jealous boyfriend of hers,
Curtis McGill, had killed Behan. McGill, who had a
lengthy criminal record, was excluded as a suspect after
an interrogation. In a deposition, he complained that
BSO detectives tried to force him to confess. "If I
wasn't strong, I might have would have had a nervous
breakdown," McGill said of his experiences with the BSO
homicide squad.
If
history is any guide, McGill had good reason to believe
he was in peril. In at least four cases filed since
1979, BSO has coerced confessions or partial admissions
to murder -- from Jerry Townsend, Frank Lee Smith, John
Wood, and Peter Dallas -- that were later proven false.
Because of revelations in the Townsend and Smith cases,
BSO is now reviewing all its death-penalty cases.
During the first three months of the Behan
investigation, then-Sgt. Richard Scheff (who was deeply
involved in the false conviction of Smith) coordinated
an unwieldy task force to find Behan's killer. Some
deputies followed the Bain angle, while others worked
with a man named Eddie Lopez, who lived in a house
behind the Circle K. Lopez said he had seen a black man
wearing only blue jeans running from the store at the
time of the shooting. He told detectives the man he saw
was five feet, eight inches tall, weighed about 185
pounds, and had a muscular build. Detectives showed
Lopez hundreds of photographs of potential suspects, to
no avail. NEXT
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