Jason Renaud's Big Lie
Neither Renaud nor the late Dan Handelman could handle the truth about police work
Another violent drug addict hit the Blue Lotto last week.
The only thing missing from news accounts about Mayor Keith Wilson wanting to give $1 million to the family of a meth addict who tried to stab a cop was a quote from Dan Handelman.
In predictable fashion, Handelman would have praised the payout and condemned police for shooting the man.
Handelman, however, suffered a stroke and died last week at Emanuel Hospital — the same facility where Michael Ray Townsend, 40, died four years ago after he was shot by a Portland officer.
The long-time meth addict called 911 and said he wanted to go to the hospital because he was feeling suicidal. Perhaps what he should have said (had he been honest) is that he wanted a police-assisted suicide so his family could get some money.
Handelman, 60, was still alive and present on March 26 when he attended what would turn out to be his last meeting of the full membership of the Portland Committee for Community-Engaged Policing (PCCEP). This is one of the city’s myriad police oversight groups, populated with citizens who think cops are Portland’s biggest problem.
Jason Renaud appeared near the beginning of the meeting to talk about Townsend, and Handelman came towards the end.
Years ago, Renaud turned a drinking problem into a career as a motivational speaker, which later morphed into positions with the Mental Health Association as well as the Mental Health Alliance. Most recently, he was a member (along with Handelman) of the Portland Accountability Commission, which designed the Community Board for Police Accountability, the latest in a long line of police oversight groups in Portland. (See Portland Dissent’s “The Dream of a Ridiculous City.” This new board will allow citizens — including those with criminal records — to sit in judgment on police and determine punishment if an officer is accused of violating policy.)
When Renaud appeared at PCCEP, he was given time on the agenda to make a plea on behalf of Townsend’s family. They won a $1 million jury verdict against Portland, but the city attorney’s office intended to appeal.
Renaud had asked the city council to withdraw the appeal and pay Townsend’s family. He wanted PCCEP to join this cause.
He started with a brief lecture on how there are only three official mechanisms to hold police officers accountable for misuse of force — criminal law, administrative rules and civil courts. In Renaud’s view, only civil courts are effective.
He repeated a favorite lie: “We can set aside criminal law. No district attorney has prosecuted a police officer for use of force in Oregon since about 1970.”
I first heard Renaud use that lie 10 years ago when he was promoting his documentary, “Alien Boy,” about the death of a schizophrenic named James Chasse, who died in police custody. (See “Blue Hours and Alien Boys.”)
He had the Mental Health Association of Portland survey the state’s DA’s with a loaded question: “Has your office charged a police officer or deputy with a use of force crime in recent memory? If yes, was there a conviction?”
Built into this request was Renaud’s assumption that each county should have filed use-of-force charges against a cop at some time. It doesn’t take into consideration that police are legally allowed to use force, and it doesn’t take into consideration that police may be charged with other crimes.
As I wrote 10 years ago, Renaud deliberately asked a survey question about police in such a way that it was designed to elicit the answer he was looking for. In fact, there were cases of police being prosecuted for use of force.
A casual check of the news in just the past several years shows that cops are indeed prosecuted — and unlike other criminal defendants, police get media publicity. A few examples:
This year: Deschutes County District Attorney Steve Gunnels placed Sheriff Kent van der Kamp on the county’s “Brady list,” which is a list of witnesses prosecutors cannot ethically call to testify in criminal cases. Gunnels investigated allegations that before van der Kamp became the sheriff of Deschutes County, he gave false testimony in more than one criminal case. Many of his past cases are now under review.
In 2024: Former Tillamook Police Chief Ray Rau was convicted of official misconduct for stealing meth and money from an evidence locker. He was sentenced to jail and can no longer work as a police officer in Oregon.
In 2023: Former Veteran’s Administration police officer Robert Wayne Roady was sentenced to federal prison for placing hidden cameras in personal locations to capture sexually explicit photos and videos of minors. Three years earlier, a federal grand jury in Eugene indicted Roady for attempted sexual exploitation of a child. He later pleaded guilty.
In 2020: Ex-Salem police officer Seth Thayres was convicted of first-degree official misconduct and sentenced to jail for stealing a radar speed gun from the Salem Police Department.
In 2019: Former Madras police officer John Joseph Wallace Jr. was sentenced to six years in federal prison for repeatedly sexually abusing a girl.
No PCCEP member challenged Renaud. They listened complacently — as they are expected to. Before he spoke, members heard a report from Kristen Thorpe, a former librarian hired to help organize applicants for the nominating committee that will choose the new Community Board for Police Accountability.
Thorpe said she “helped do strategic edits for equity.” Potential committee members will not be quizzed too deeply about their backgrounds so as to make hiring more equitable. (Translation: A criminal record shouldn’t prevent you from applying.)
Why was Renaud so committed to assisting the Townsend family in getting $1 million from the city of Portland?
“The appeal is fiscally irresponsible … the city would expect to expend significant resources… and they could still lose and still learn nothing,” Renaud said.
“It sends the wrong message…,” he added. “(An appeal) conveys to the public that the City Council approves of the use of lethal force. … And it tells the Portland Police Bureau that misuse of force will be defended. … It shows the council closing ranks behind the Portland Police Bureau.”
Although a deputy city attorney was present, she did not weigh in. Too bad. It’s time the City of Portland fought back on these lawsuits. Plaintiff’s attorneys count on the city rolling over and settling to save money. That might work in the short term. It doesn’t in the long term. It invites more lawsuits from the families of meth addicts like Townsend.
Thanks to efforts by guys like Renaud and Handelman, drug addicts like Townsend are now called “mentally ill.”
On June 24, 2021, two Portland police officers were dispatched to the Motel 6 at 518 NE Holladay St. to assist medical personnel regarding Townsend, who was high on meth and feeling suicidal.
Townsend had told the 911 call-taker he was “fist packing” a screwdriver. The 911 call-taker told him to separate himself from the screwdriver. He said he would.
Six minutes after the call, paramedics from Portland Fire & Rescue arrived, but Townsend wasn’t in the motel office where he said he would be.
Townsend made a second call to 911. According to the police bureau’s investigation, in the second call — while Portland Fire & Rescue were on the scene — Townsend reiterated “he was feeling suicidal and high on methamphetamine. He requested an expedited police response.” (My emphasis— Townsend seemed to know what he wanted, and it wasn’t unarmed paramedics.)
Two Portland police officers arrived. Paramedics from American Medical Response arrived.
Officer Brett Emmons spoke with the motel manager and tried to talk to Townsend about going to the hospital. He agreed but refused to be searched for weapons. Emmons told Townsend he could go into his room if he wanted, and the police would leave. Townsend became non-responsive, and the officers began to walk away.
It continued like that, with Townsend setting the scene depending on his behavior.
Finally, Officer Emmons saw Townsend reach into his pocket and pull out a shiny object with about four inches of pointy metal extending from his fist. Townsend advanced towards Officer Curtis Brown, who backed up, drew his weapon and ordered Townsend to stop moving.
A firefighter-paramedic heard Townsend say something to the effect, “I’m going to kill you.”
Officer Brown fired twice.
Townsend was found with a closed-eye needle screwdriver, which looks like this:
A Grand Jury declined to indict Brown, finding the shooting was lawful. Surveillance footage showed Townsend advancing towards the retreating officer.
This is how Dan Handelman’s Portland Copwatch newsletter summed up the incident: “Michael Townsend Calls Police for Help, Gets Killed.”
Handelman, who was not present when Townsend was high on meth, said the officer could have easily gotten out of harm’s way by fleeing through the parking lot.
Handelman didn’t consider the unarmed firefighter-paramedics standing nearby. Should Townsend have been allowed to stab one of them? How would Handelman have liked losing an eye to a violent meth head?
Handelman’s approach to “community-driven” policing is revealed in this observation: “Notably, community members showed up on the scene shortly after the shooting and began to protest.”
This is the kind of law enforcement Handelman preferred — mob rule. What he didn’t say in his newsletter is that those community members assumed a black man had been shot. Portland was having a George Floyd moment!
No. Townsend was white. The police officer who shot him was black.
Had Handelman still been alive, he would’ve likely approved this week of the Portland police officer who was pepper sprayed and threatened with a knife — and the assailant (wanted on warrants for identity theft and resisting arrest) was allowed to get away.
Raul Nava Jr., 44, was finally arrested two days later on a sunny afternoon in a tent at Northwest 21st Avenue and Hoyt Street. All it took was armored vehicles, tear gas, a K-9 unit, and a robot to safely arrest him. If he suffered a bruise, however, Handelman will no longer be available to soothe the pain.
How much did Dan Handelman hate police? He once wrote an essay patting himself on the back for refusing to shake hands with then-Commander Bob Day (now police chief).
Why did he hate police? Some thought he was a frustrated wanna-be cop. Others thought he must have gotten bullied by a cop once and never got over it. (As a former newspaper cop reporter in California, I was bullied regularly by certain cops. I understood they didn’t represent all police.)
Handelman’s Portland Copwatch was a project of Peace and Justice Works, a 501-c-3 group (nonprofit and tax-exempt) “dedicated to nonviolent conflict resolution on local, national and international levels.” Their weekly Friday peace rallies in Pioneer Square haven’t done much on the national or international stage.
Locally, Handelman made a name for himself as a copwatcher. He was the go-to police expert for the mainstream media. Most Portlanders have never heard of him, but his death was widely reported.
I didn’t return to the Portland area until 2010, so I’ve never come close to Handelman’s three decades of attending police oversight meetings. But I crossed paths with him frequently, and I’ve written about him and Portland Copwatch over the years. (See “Body Cams: A Neutral Third Eye,” “The Tail Wagging the Police Dog,” “Oh, Darn, Please Drop the Gun,” “A Cop Shop Under Siege” and “A Gang of Police Reformers.”
Handelman is to be commended for reading the reams of reports generated by everyone from the U.S. Department of Justice to numerous consultants, state legislative committees and police oversight groups. His Portland Copwatch was a constant and never-ending source of videos and reports on police issues.
But how many 911 calls did Handelman and his activists ever respond to? Where were they on June 24, 2021 when Townsend, high on meth, was stating his suicidal desires? Where was Jason Renaud?
My take on Handelman: He was secretly resentful of police officers, who would don uniforms identifying themselves as cops and then go forth into a public that included armed and dangerous people who hated police on sight. It was a type of courage Handelman didn’t have.
He mostly played it safe. He got up at public meetings, surrounded by supporters — or at least guaranteed a certain number of people who would agree with him — and argued the fine points in all the reports he read. To Handelman, police work was all about reports and meetings. It had nothing to do with answering 911 calls. If someone missed a report deadline, he was on it, exhibiting righteous indignation — reminding everyone that he was bravely holding the police accountable.
Did it ever occur to Handelman to ask who holds criminals accountable? Probably not, because he treated police as the enemy. Under the veneer of his compassionate and sensitive peace-activist soul, there lurked an autocrat.
In what would be his last comment to the full board at PCCEP on March 26, Handelman revealed the absurd lengths he would go to in pushing his agenda.
His final comment referred to his hatred of bullet points used in reports:
“And lastly, I’ve said before, but I’m going to say it again, especially when we’re in the context of talking about police violence. It really bothers me when people talk about the little dots on a piece of paper as bullets. So I’m hoping that you remember to say dot instead of bullet.”
As Fitzsimmons points out, it is an outrageous lie to claim no police officer has been convicted of criminal misconduct since the 70s in Oregon.
I was a prosecutor in Eugene, Bend, and Astoria and I sent at least half a dozen once-cops to jail for various misdeeds. If Renaud lies about that, he’s likely lying about other claims.
Just as absurd is the denunciation of police for their rare use of deadly force. The whole concept behind armed police, existing in almost every nation, is that the government trains and commissions officers to do just that - use deadly force, if necessary to save others.
Add to Pam's brave report: most members of the progressive media in town have never answered a 911 call with a cop, either.
As a very young reporter in Chicago, I rode for a night with members of a police squad that patrolled the city's then-unfashionable west side. I'll never forget a call for a person with a gun at a certain address. It was a rundown two-story building. Inside was a stairway lit by a single dangling lightbulb--a set from a horror movie. At the top was a closed door.
The cops climbed up. Rather casually, I thought; they didn't have their weapons out.
It turned out that there was no gun.
But there could have been.
You can't pay anyone enough to do that job.