Good news/celebration

A quick note.

I'd like to congratulate my father on kicking six different kinds of crap out of Hodgkin's Lymphoma.  I guess eating healthy and staying in shape has some benefits.  I wish someone had told me that.  I'll have to remember that in my next life.

There are a lot of people in this world I can do without.  My father isn't one.

When I was a teenager I had a lot of anger towards my father.  That's not uncommon for that age, but it still hurt him.  Years later, when I began my extended run of fuck-ups, my Dad was always there for me.

I've actually been very fortunate to retain a small cadre of loyal and supportive family members, and I appreciate them all.

But it starts with Dad.

Score one for the good guys.

time for something actually Important

If you are one of my regular readers...yes, there are a few of you...this post will be different from the content usually located here.

I won't be celebrating music.  I won't be ripping the Palin's for being whatever they are.  I won't be taking the local LEO's to task for excessive force.  I won't be mocking the Muslims for being knuckleheads or laughing at the new moon roof installed in Bin Ladin's cranium.

This one's for real.

I don't like people.  I really don't.  They're full of shit, self-serving and short-sighted. I have room in my life for about twenty people, including friends and family.  Twenty might even be high.  I suffer from social anxiety, among other things.  As a corollary, I genuinely enjoy solitude.

I'm pretty sure that works both ways too.  I think I'm probably a difficult person to like.  I'm a bridge-burner.  I burn my bridges.  Seldom intentionally, but the effect is the same nonetheless.  Three years seems to be about the limit. After three years I completely wear out my welcome with both employers and girlfriends.  Friends too.  In fact, I once burned a bridge with my best friend, but he was "best" enough to deal with it, forgive and move past.

I'm okay to be around, pretty loyal, and fairly interesting, but it's all that baggage that makes it difficult.  Baggage from twenty years of poorly treated depression and mental illness occasionally has me come off as flaky.  Or angry.  Or unreliable.  Or just not someone to be around.  I get that and I'm ok with it.

At this point, I've given up on the idea of permanent cohabitation with a woman because I just don't want to compromise that much.  That's what I remember from my relationships: compromises. Oh, I also don't wanna raise someone else's brat.  No thanks.

I'm losing sight of what this post was supposed to be about.

Let me tell a story.

In September of 1996, I was regularly working the overnight shift at SuperAmerica on south Lyndale Avenue in Minneapolis as a Shift Leader.  That's the title they would give you to heap more responsibility upon you but not really the commensurate pay.  Irregardless, it was an okay gig, paying the bills, fitting my night-owl lifestyle perfectly and affording me a sack-a-week habit.  I'd start at ten at night and be home after finishing the books by seven-thirty in the morning.

At the time, I had a girlfriend living with me in an apartment just a few blocks from work.  For me, she was more a girlfriend of convenience than of any particular passion.  She indulged my whims and most importantly, was cool with me hanging out on the couch, getting stoned and listening to music; my prior girl didn't share that same enthusiasm about pot.  Actually that's an understatement: she hated it, naming it as a primary reason for splitting.

My typical post-shift routine was to walk across the street to a little coffee shop, sit and drink a latte while reading the newspaper, then return home to get stoned, listen to music for an hour or so and finally settle into bed for my "nights" sleep.  It was during this sleep on an otherwise nondescript day, that I woke to my girlfriend calling my name.

Waking, I saw a little black kitten crawling up the covers toward me.  It was very cute in that kitteny way, eyes agog and filled with wonder, looking very happy to have a new home.  I didn't remember discussing the addition of a kitten.  I already had Reggie, who was a year and a half old by now, and I was content with that, but somehow between her explanation of why she bought him and this new guys enthusiasm at having a home, I couldn't utter a word in opposition.

She explained that the pet store had him living in a pen with several younger, smaller kittens, obviously from a different litter, and after observing numerous patrons it was obvious that he wasn't going to stand out to anyone. Everybody always goes for the younger, "cuter" animals; she feared his euthanasia.  The reasoning seemed sound, and I've always hated visiting pet stores because of both the overwhelming desire to liberate and love all those animals and the profound disappointment in their eyes when you don't.

My only concern was whether Reggie would accept this interloper.  He did, checking him out without much fanfare and going about whatever he was up to.  That was the final vote: the new guy was in.

Checking out the new guy, circa September 1996.

I quickly named him Rudy because when I looked at him, he just looked like a Rudy.  It seemed to fit well and had a nice rhythm when used in conjunction with Reggie.  I still remember his feeble early attempts at meowing, saying something that sounded like "yick."  My boys, as I came to call them, weren't what I would consider fast friends.  They didn't seem to do many things together, but were very comfortable around each other.

The next year though, when Reggie broke his leg, Rudy immediately laid down next to his "brother" when he returned from the vet, sporting a blue cast on his left rear leg.  I always found that special, the communication between animals and the show of support during a time of distress.  For pain relief, the vet suggested crunching up a children's aspirin.  I knew Reg wouldn't go for that.  I tried anyway and was proven correct.  Desperate to give my animal some relief from his discomfort, I did something I was generally against in principle: I got him stoned.  It worked of course, and his night of misery finally ended.  When he woke the next day, Rudy was still at his side.

Around this time, my girlfriend was considering getting rid of Rudy, as she seemed to develop an allergy from being around him.  From his behavior, it was obvious that Rudy loved her a lot, and why not, after all, she was his liberator.  I lobbied against giving Rudy away, telling her "just look, he loves you so much it feels good for him just to be near you."  So Rudy stayed.

About a year later, the girlfriend left.  In one of the rare instances of foresight in my life, I had declined a marriage proposal from her a few months previously.  She abandoned Rudy to me, finally getting away from the allergens that bothered her so.  At the age of two, Rudy was now mine, and even though I had begun to become allergic to my boys and further develop asthma from that, I never would consider being apart from them.  I hate it when people get pets and then quit on them when they're no longer cute or convenient.  Having animals was always something I took seriously.

The following dozen years were a very dark, listless and depressing time for me.  I went from job to shitty job, moving more times than I care to count, cycling through women and remaining generally unhappy.   More than once, facing imminent eviction, I considered the merits of no longer living.  Those plans never got very far because I couldn't reconcile forcing my animals to have to adapt to brand new people and places; I just couldn't do that to them.  As someone with no children and no plans for any, my boys, at the very least, served as surrogates.  They kept me alive.

Through the years I enjoyed seeing my boys personalities grow.  Reggie was easy, because he closely mirrored his owner: a sedentary homebody with gusto for the dinner table.  Reggie was, and continues to be, happiest when he is near his owner.  He's not shy to ask for affection because he knows he will always get it.  Reg also has a penchant for wagging his tail in rhythm to the music I'm playing.  Having a cat that digs music seems pretty cool to me.

Rudy was always a little more complex.  He wanted the attention and affection just as much, but only when he was ready for it.  He was also demonstrably smarter, figuring out how to open up cupboards or turn door handles.  He had a vocabulary much greater than Reggie's and was trainable as well. Once he learned to walk on the sidewalks, and not wherever his mind and body could wander off to, he enjoyed going on regular walks after sundown with me.  He would often want to stay outside for an hour or more at a time, just hanging out, relaxing, exploring.  I have never seen another cat that would walk around the block without a leash.

In another apartment, Rudy performed his own version of Punk'd by opening a kitchen cupboard and resting inside.  My girlfriend at the time had gone into the kitchen to get a glass, opened up the wrong cupboard and was startled by the sight of Rudy's eyes peering back at her.  She screamed like she had found a corpse.  I laughed.  She didn't.  I'd like to think Rudy did.

A few years later, a roommate of mine took off on a late night, alcohol fueled bender with some friends, accidentally letting Rudy out.  Rudy would absolutely wander if given the opportunity, which is why his outdoor time was always supervised.  I don't know what he did for the six hours he was outside, but when I woke in the morning and noticed him missing, I went straight for the door, opened it, and found him sitting there a little anxious and more than ready to come in.  I'll never forget that he both knew where his home was and had faith I'd come looking for him.

The absolute funniest thing I ever saw Rudy do took place in a whorehouse.  Seriously.  Okay, it had been a whorehouse years ago and was now just another in a long string of apartments for me.  My description of this will never do it justice, but I can't ignore the anecdote.  The place had ridiculous ceilings, eleven or twelve feet high.  Rudy loved heights.  High cupboards, refrigerator tops, anywhere he could achieve elevation, so the converted house of ill repute held great appeal for him.  As I fell asleep on my sectional couch, Rudy went to work, easily jumping up to my kitchen countertop.  Due to the high ceilings, my kitchen cupboards didn't extend all the way up, allowing him to further jump up on top of the cupboards.  There was a water pipe about two inches above the cupboards, about an inch and a half in diameter. The pipe extended about a foot past the front of the right edge of the cupboard, then made a right-angle left-turn for about four feet before entering the wall.  With what I can only assume was an exquisite display of great balance and dexterity, Rudy made his way out on the pipe, perhaps imagining himself as a tightrope walker, and navigated the left turn, finding himself in the center of the lengthy stretch of pipe when I woke.  Rather than seeing him balancing delicately, I saw him hanging there, like he had completed a set of pull-ups.  Casually, too, no sense of panic.  Then he dropped and I panicked, fearing for his safety as I bolted upright.  In the second it took for me to reach him, he was already walking away from the scene as if nothing had happened.  That made the image of him hanging there helplessly, humorous, and not horrendous.

My boys have always been there for me, year after year, event after event.  When I've come home from work, devastated that I'd been unjustly fired from a good position [note: VisionWorld and SunRay Optical can still kiss my ass], they would intuitively cuddle and hang out with me, not letting me dwell on failure.  When I would lay in bed, streaming tears during that initial shock of a relationship ending, my boys were there.  They've simply been the most important things in my life, and the enrichment they've imprinted upon me is substantial.

In January of this year, Rudy became ill, having a difficult time keeping food down.  He lost substantial weight very quickly and I feared he wouldn't see March.  Being unemployed, I was unable to take take him to a veterinarian so I researched everything I could on the internet.  I came up with a few possible maladies, but no real solutions.  Rudy loved life though, and fought valiantly, refusing to "complain" and living his life much as he always had.  The weight loss, and the accompanying loss of strength, affected his ability to jump and he was suddenly landlocked.  I began to carry him up the steps to let him enjoy the outdoors that so fixated him.  When he began having issues with loose stool, the chance of recovery seemed diminished.

Yet he fought on, living with joy into March and April.  When April began, Reggie also knew something was up.  Suddenly, he was always laying by and sleeping next to his brother, perhaps remembering how Rudy had stood vigil when he had broken his leg years earlier, or maybe he was just showing love and support to an ill family member.  Either way, it was touching.

I talk to my boys regularly - I told you I wasn't well - and when Rudy began to struggle with day to day things, when the quality of his lifestyle began to deteriorate, we had a talk.  I had told him that when he reached "that" point, when he had fought long enough and hard enough, if he let me know, I would take him to the veterinarian for a peaceful resolution.

I've always liked the "little" things that my boys came to enjoy.  Reggie loves to lick the condensation on the outside of my soda cans.  Reggie loves cold water and ice.  Reggie loves getting a haircut.  Rudy loved heights.  He loved the outdoors.  More than anything, he loved the sound it made when I would tap my finger on the top of one of his food cans right before I opened it.  He would never fail to get up and come over when he heard that sound.

On April 27, he failed to answer that bell.  Despite his continuing illness, it was still stunning to me; he had just told me, the fight was over.  I placed the horrible call that I will likely have to make at least once more in my life and made an appointment with the pet doctor for the following day.

With his brother and I by his side, Rudy passed that evening in our bed, craning his head back, touching my hand and letting out a last purr before moving on.   That's still the hardest, most difficult and saddest experience of my life and writing about it now still rubs that wound.  My dear sweet little boy with the large personality.  His passing took a piece of my heart with him and not a day goes by where he isn't prominent in my thoughts.

Rudy would have been fifteen on August 8th.  I wrote this to remember and celebrate him on his birthday.  Rest in peace my boy, you will always be in my heart.

The guy just loved to roll around on cement.

Rudy near the end, the fatigue plain in his eyes.

Brian Wilson Live At The Surf Ballroom

This is definitely one of those instances where words, no matter how apt, no matter how descriptive, are simply insufficient.  On Sunday night, July 31st, I watched Brian Wilson in concert for the third time, this time at the legendary Surf Ballroom in Clear Lake, Iowa.  Granted most of its legend comes from who died after playing there, but still, in all fairness, it's a pretty nice venue.  Decent acoustics, intimate to the tune of four feet from the artist and a museum in its own right.

I previously saw Brian at his US premiere of SMiLE at the Orpheum Theater in Minneapolis.  It was spellbinding, mesmerizing and tear-inducing to see his performance of the abandoned album that played such a large part in derailing both his music career and his life.  It was an experience that would be difficult to approximate, much less surpass.

I saw him on his following tour in support of That Lucky Old Sun.  This time it was at the State Theater in Minneapolis.  Both the Orpheum and the State have the benefit of being nice, smaller, seated venues with warm, realistic acoustics. This concert was also superior, both because of the quality of the album he was touring behind, and my relative proximity to the stage: fourth row, third seat from center.

So the scene was set for a letdown.  [Speaking of letdowns, Mike Love, and his fraudulently named "Beach Boys," played the same night about three hours north of me at Mystic Lake Casino.  No word yet on whether he wore his traditional shitty-looking faux-Hawaiian shirt with his self-esteem and bald-spot protecting baseball cap.]

Back to Brian.  His tour program typically unfolds in this manner:
     1] an hour or so of classics, with some wonderfully obscure tracks thrown in before an intermission
     2] the complete album he is touring behind, before another intermission
     3] a return to absolute gold classics for his encore.

Brians recent album, Brian Wilson Reimagines Gershwin, is a nice, jazzy subdued affair, but I had concerns about how it would translate to the stage, especially after getting everybody pumped up with an hour of chestnuts.  Brian was hip to my concerns though, as his concert modus operandi was altered for this tour.

This first segment remained the same, as this setlist will attest.

1] California Girls
2] Do You Wanna Dance
3] Catch A Wave
4] Wendy
5] Then I Kissed Her
6] Little Deuce Coupe
7] Surfer Girl
8] In My Room
9] Please Let Me Wonder
10] Row, Row, Row Your Boat [sung in rounds with the audience]
11] Don't Worry baby
12] Salt Lake City
13] Drive-In
14] When I Grow Up (To Be A Man)
15] You're So Good to Me
16] Do You Wanna Dance
17] I Get Around
18] Do It Again

In a break with recent format though, Brian played only a mini-set of tunes from his recent Gershwin album before diving back into a full hour onslaught of amazing classics.  The second setlist, as procured by me and autographed by band members Darian Sahanaja, Scott Bennett and Paul Mertens, was as follows:

The second encore consisted of only one song, and in another break from previous tours, it wasn't "Love And Mercy," this time sending us home with "All Summer Long."  Both songs are great, but I think I prefer the uber-serenity of  "Love And Mercy" as the closer.

Overall, the performance was world class.  It took Brian about three numbers to really hit his mark, muffing a few early lyrics and struggling with his voice at the onset, but from then on, he was aces.  His band, as usual, was flawless, although I missed the string quartet he brought along on the two previous tours.  Also missing was Taylor Mills, the lone female voice in his band and a pretty face to look at.  She was mentioned by the band during introductions, so I speculate she might be "with child."

Note: I forgot my damn camera so all these images are from my Palm Pixi.  While lacking the zoom and resolution a genuine camera would provide, it nonetheless provided images far better than I could sketch.

So how close was I to the stage this time?  Stagefront, about five feet to the left, which meant that whenever Brian looked at his monitor, placed to the right of his keyboard, his line of sight was my beaming face.  I swear to God during "Pet Sounds," Brian was stoically listening to his band crush the instrumental, when he glanced down at his monitor before returning a smile, appropriately enough, to me.  Pretty damn cool.  I felt like Marcia Brady mooning over Davy Jones in that one Brady Bunch episode.

Again, how close was I to the stage?  Here's what it looked like when Paul Mertens did a stagefront sax solo.

He was inches from me.  One of several great, multi-instrument players in Brian's band, and a nice friendly chap as well.

Brian played his keyboard more than at the previous shows I'd been to, looking active on about eight of the tracks before strapping on his Fender bass for the last few numbers of the first encore.  I also thought he appeared a little more frail this time, displaying shaky hands as he sipped his water bottle and requiring a hand to help him down the steps when he exited the stage.  He was also a little grayer this time, but hell, he's sixty-nine, so I think he's allowed that.

It can't be understated how fantastic, and sympathetic to this material, that his touring band is, clearly showing the familiarity of four major tours and years of kinship.

From the onset, the foot was tapping.

Darian Sahanaja, who was directly in front of me

The setlist I captured

The man, the myth, my hero

Strapped with the Fender bass

Post-concert I was blessed to chat with the three who signed my setlist: Darian, Scott, and Paul.  In fact, I made Darian laugh.

Sharing a chuckle with Darian

Darian, right before I lifted his wallet

An amazing night, loaded with ready-made memories.  If this does indeed prove to be Mr. Wilson's final tour, I will have no regrets.  An amazing performer with an amazing catalog, who overcame amazing personal strife to put on an amazing show.

My cap is doffed to you Mr. Wilson.

Note: clicking on the pictures will give you a larger view of them.

Recidivism defined

I saw another amazing show by Brian Wilson tonight and my next post will detail that much more thoroughly.

Sadly though, I see again in the newspaper that the area cops are indeed asskickers without a cause.

The legitimate press, in this case, does a nice job of detailing why I'm not making it up as I go along when I repeatedly state that Minneapolis metro area cops are as crooked and evil a bunch as exists anywhere in the United States.

I also repeat: if you commit a felony while on the job wearing a gun, YOU SHOULD BE SUMMARILY EXECUTED.  If your behavior cannot maintain the high standard that an officer of the law should observe, get a new job, dickhead.

Demand more accountability people, this shit is unacceptable.


The article below is reprinted without permission from the Minneapolis Star-Tribune.


Cost of Minneapolis police payouts could hit record this year

The cost of settling police misconduct claims has doubled for incidents that occurred since Tim Dolan became Minneapolis police chief, even as the number of individual payouts has dropped.

This year, after a major jury award for the family of a mentally ill man slain by police, the city has paid out $3.3 million for a dozen claims that police went over the line, according to the city attorney's office. It's a pace that could make this a record year for police settlements.

Dolan says better training and legal work have lowered police misconduct claims to 12 to 15 each year, down from 20 to 30 annually before he became chief. Even some department critics credit him for taking a harder line on rogue cops.

But excluding two outsized settlements -- $2.19 million for the 2006 killing of Dominic Felder and $4.5 million for the 2003 shooting of undercover officer Duy Ngo -- the $90,395 average cost of police misconduct claims in Dolan's first three years was more than double what it was in the three years before he was named chief.

These are cases in which a wayward punch, a rough arrest or a Taser blast captured on video can cost the city's insurance fund five figures or more.

In an interview, Dolan said it didn't surprise him that settlements are higher, given the ever-rising price of litigation.

"The cost of doing business in that environment is going up dramatically," Dolan said. "It's very common now to see the 25 [thousand] to 50 [thousand] range. Even if you win, you're going to spend more than that on attorneys."

More accountability

Yet one man who sued police after his arrest during a demonstration says the city paid him double what he expected. During a Critical Mass bicycle rally in 2007, Augustin Ganley was pepper sprayed and slammed face first on the trunk of a police cruiser. He won $75,000 after suing to recoup $30,000 in legal fees from his dismissed criminal charges.

"We were trying to hold the police accountable," Ganley said about his lawsuit. "After all we went through, I expected them to be more stubborn. The decision making process, it's still a mystery to me."

A lawyer who has won $8 million in settlements and jury verdicts suing the Minneapolis police says it's not the lawyers' fault that costs are going up. Robert Bennett said he hasn't noticed a difference in how the city handles cases now that Dolan is chief.

"They don't do a very good job of disciplining their officers," Bennett said.

The rise in costs has gone largely unnoticed -- the city attorney's office said it hasn't seen any patterns in the settlement cases -- because most settlement claims are grouped by the year in which they get paid. So far this year, the city has cut checks for incidents that occurred in six of the past eight years. Some cases take a long time to wind through court. Some don't get filed immediately, because plaintiffs are allowed six years from the date of the original incident to sue the city.

It's only when cases are arranged by the year in which the incident took place that the sudden rise in costs becomes evident. In some of those, the cases are dominated by legal costs.

In 2008, Nicole Madison was standing outside a Warehouse District nightclub at 2 a.m. when she was punched in the face. She said it was officer Daniel Willis, but the officer denied it, saying he was pushing into the crowd to stop a fight.

Madison was cut on her cheek and needed stitches. She sued and the case went to trial. She eventually won a $20,000 award, but the city also had to pay her attorney's fees. The total bill: $296,490.

Settlement amounts don't necessarily reflect hospital bills or the severity of injury. In 2008, a man who was caught breaking into a car in a downtown parking garage was arrested by officer Sherry Appledorn. A video taken by a parking ramp security camera shows Appledorn struggling with the man as he lies face down on the pavement. The man, Nicholas Kastner, filed a lawsuit alleging he was stomped on, kicked at least a dozen times and shocked at least twice by a Taser. The suit alleged that Appledorn's partner, Joseph Will, also punched Kastner in the head. He suffered bruises on his back and shoulders.

Dolan later determined that the use of force was excessive. Appledorn was disciplined. Will was not. Kastner won a $75,000 settlement plus legal fees of another $50,000.

More misconduct?

A laceration on Meghan Wong's cheek resulted in an even larger settlement. In 2007, Wong was injured by an officer after she and two others were escorted out of a Warehouse District nightclub. She later sued. The eventual cost was $169,500.

Minneapolis City Attorney Susan Segal said the settlement costs rose quickly because of the number of plaintiffs, the potential for emotional distress claims and a constitutional claim. In constitutional cases, the city can be forced to pay the plaintiff's attorneys fees. Wong's attorney was Bennett, who can be awarded fees of $500 an hour, Segal said.

Still, Segal said her office takes a tough stand on the claims and doesn't simply settle cases to make them go away. Since 2009, the city has prevailed in 38 cases and paid out in 39, her office reported.

So are the rising costs evidence of more misconduct? Attorney Paul Edlund thinks so. Business ramped up for him after he represented Derryl Jenkins, who won a $235,000 settlement after an in-car camera recorded the scene of officers punching and stomping him after a traffic stop in 2009.

Edlund has noticed more defendants facing misdemeanor charges showing up at his office for consultation sporting black eyes and stitches, he said.

"I've heard countless other clients share similar stories, but the incidents haven't been caught on video," Edlund said.

Improving training

The Jenkins case led to a new round of training within the department about when it's appropriate to kick to subdue a suspect.

"The Jenkins video definitely changed a lot, as far as what we do on the street," said Dolan.

City Council Member Cam Gordon praised Dolan for establishing an early warning system designed to identify potential problem officers and offer them training and counseling. Gordon, one of five council members who opposed Dolan's reappointment last year, credits the chief with firing more rogue officers than his predecessors without rankling the rank-and-file.

"Officers see him as an advocate and not someone who's out to get them," he said. "We should be welcoming complaints. If not, we could have stuff going on that we don't hear about."

Longtime American Indian Movement activist Clyde Bellecourt credits Dolan with taking a tougher stance on officer misconduct cases, but openly wondered how much officer behavior has changed.

Bellecourt was a member of the federally mandated Minneapolis Police Community Relations Council, which was created on the heels of several officer-involved shootings, one of which triggered a riot in north Minneapolis. The council dissolved in 2009 with much of its mission incomplete. Part of the reason was that citizen members were often swamped with concerns about police brutality. The only way to receive justice is to sue, Bellecourt said.
Still, Segal said her office takes a tough stand on the claims and doesn't simply settle cases to make them go away. Since 2009, the city has prevailed in 38 cases and paid out in 39, her office reported.

So are the rising costs evidence of more misconduct? Attorney Paul Edlund thinks so. Business ramped up for him after he represented Derryl Jenkins, who won a $235,000 settlement after an in-car camera recorded the scene of officers punching and stomping him after a traffic stop in 2009.

Edlund has noticed more defendants facing misdemeanor charges showing up at his office for consultation sporting black eyes and stitches, he said.

"I've heard countless other clients share similar stories, but the incidents haven't been caught on video," Edlund said.

Improving training

The Jenkins case led to a new round of training within the department about when it's appropriate to kick to subdue a suspect.

"The Jenkins video definitely changed a lot, as far as what we do on the street," said Dolan.

City Council Member Cam Gordon praised Dolan for establishing an early warning system designed to identify potential problem officers and offer them training and counseling. Gordon, one of five council members who opposed Dolan's reappointment last year, credits the chief with firing more rogue officers than his predecessors without rankling the rank-and-file.

"Officers see him as an advocate and not someone who's out to get them," he said. "We should be welcoming complaints. If not, we could have stuff going on that we don't hear about."

Longtime American Indian Movement activist Clyde Bellecourt credits Dolan with taking a tougher stance on officer misconduct cases, but openly wondered how much officer behavior has changed.

Bellecourt was a member of the federally mandated Minneapolis Police Community Relations Council, which was created on the heels of several officer-involved shootings, one of which triggered a riot in north Minneapolis. The council dissolved in 2009 with much of its mission incomplete. Part of the reason was that citizen members were often swamped with concerns about police brutality. The only way to receive justice is to sue, Bellecourt said.

Still, Segal said her office takes a tough stand on the claims and doesn't simply settle cases to make them go away. Since 2009, the city has prevailed in 38 cases and paid out in 39, her office reported.

So are the rising costs evidence of more misconduct? Attorney Paul Edlund thinks so. Business ramped up for him after he represented Derryl Jenkins, who won a $235,000 settlement after an in-car camera recorded the scene of officers punching and stomping him after a traffic stop in 2009.

Edlund has noticed more defendants facing misdemeanor charges showing up at his office for consultation sporting black eyes and stitches, he said.

"I've heard countless other clients share similar stories, but the incidents haven't been caught on video," Edlund said.

Improving training

The Jenkins case led to a new round of training within the department about when it's appropriate to kick to subdue a suspect.

"The Jenkins video definitely changed a lot, as far as what we do on the street," said Dolan.

City Council Member Cam Gordon praised Dolan for establishing an early warning system designed to identify potential problem officers and offer them training and counseling. Gordon, one of five council members who opposed Dolan's reappointment last year, credits the chief with firing more rogue officers than his predecessors without rankling the rank-and-file.

"Officers see him as an advocate and not someone who's out to get them," he said. "We should be welcoming complaints. If not, we could have stuff going on that we don't hear about."

Longtime American Indian Movement activist Clyde Bellecourt credits Dolan with taking a tougher stance on officer misconduct cases, but openly wondered how much officer behavior has changed.

Bellecourt was a member of the federally mandated Minneapolis Police Community Relations Council, which was created on the heels of several officer-involved shootings, one of which triggered a riot in north Minneapolis. The council dissolved in 2009 with much of its mission incomplete. Part of the reason was that citizen members were often swamped with concerns about police brutality. The only way to receive justice is to sue, Bellecourt said.

"The only thing they understand is when you hit them in the wallet," he said.