Selective Justice My Legacy

By Roy Chauvin

Throughout life most people have to struggle with making decisions. These decisions not only involve the individual making the decision but also his family and in some cases the public. The life of a law enforcement officer involves all three. This burden is often stressful, taxing one's conscience to the breaking point. The individual has to rely on his family background and values instilled in him throughout his life. A strong faith driving the belief that all has to be fair and honest is viewed as an idealistic approach in which everyone strives toward in making these decisions. To truly adopt this fairness, honesty, and justice philosophy in your life's decisions is extremely difficult in today's world. The tug of war of emotions pulls at one's conscience to make the right decision. Many choose to prostitute their convictions for their jobs, money, status, and power, rationalizing their decisions for personal gain, leaving humanity in ashes.

As a law enforcement officer, his daily decisions directly affect his fellow man. This burden is self-inflicted by the individual to do the right thing or to go along with the good-old-boy attitude. The latter accomplishes nothing and is actually looked down upon by the honest public. The people truly want someone they can trust to carry out this honesty and justice philosophy; however, the public has no clue about the sacrifices one has to make in order to achieve these goals. For one to fulfill his mission of striving for fairness and honesty, he has to be a slave of his convictions.

At seventy-three, the winter of my life, I often question my life's path. However, not only can I not change it, nor would I want to. I still encounter those negative people who condemned me for my stand for justice. There is nothing I can say to change their minds, which embraces corruption as a badge of honor rather than dishonor. The silent majority hang their heads in disgust not realizing they have the power to change if they just stand up and fight.

The reader of the book must evaluate whether or not the main character of the book was, in fact, dedicated to his convictions. By infusing the Diary of Corruption into the book poses to the reader a decision-making process in which he decides whether the diary is proof that corruption exists or this is just the way it is and no one can change these practices. The actual diaries represent twenty-seven years of entries documenting the author's daily life in law enforcement. The author of this book does not seek the approval of his life's path, but rather poses the question.

What would you do if you were in his shoes? Walk the walk and talk the talk or be silent because it is too costly.

Fairness, Honesty, Justice for all. I hope.

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• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Sep 7, 2023
• ISBN: 9798889607052

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Selective Justice My Legacy

Roy Chauvin

Copyright © 2023 Roy Chauvin

All rights reserved

First Edition

PAGE PUBLISHING

Conneaut Lake, PA

First originally published by Page Publishing 2023

ISBN 979-8-88960-698-7 (pbk)

ISBN 979-8-88960-705-2 (digital)

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Dedication

Introduction

Chapter 1: Initiation

Chapter 2: Uneasy Discretion

Chapter 3: The Cult Conspiracy

Chapter 4: Who Cares About a Duck

Chapter 5: The Crash

Chapter 6: New Governor and Promotion

Chapter 7: The Showdown

Chapter 8: Crooked Game Wardens

Chapter 9: Out with the Old - Back in with the Old

Chapter 10: New District Attorney Era

Chapter 11: Grand Isle, Louisiana

Chapter 12: Gill Nets

Chapter 13: The Epistle

Chapter 14: Bull Red Fish

Chapter 15: Low Life Tactics

Chapter 16: Selective Enforcement

Chapter 17: Agent Vs. Agent

Chapter 18: New Governor with Old Ties

Chapter 19: Mix Bag

Chapter 20: Alligators

Chapter 21: Deja Vous

Chapter 22: 1993 SOS

Chapter 23: Should I Stay or Should I Go?

Chapter 24: End of Governor Rico

Chapter 25: Beginning of the End

Dedication

I am dedicating this book to a very dear friend who stood by my side through many of my tribulations. He never swayed during his tough stands, taking up for me even though he was threatened. A friend in need is a friend indeed.

Thank you, Gary, for being a part of my life.

Agent Gary Benoit

Died March 1998

Also I would like to mention a dear friend who worked with me tirelessly on our four year Federal Grand Jury case in Cameron, Louisiana. Bill Ferguson recently died after a long battle with cancer. His upbeat character gave me a break from the negative. Thank you Bill and may you enjoy the benefits of leading a good christian life.

Introduction

The title SELECTIVE JUSTICE exemplifies the criminal justice system today. The symbolic figure, blindfolded, holding the Scales of Justice is a farce. This figure was supposed to represent unbiased justice, however, the blindfold does not exist in reality. The scales are unevenly tipped when the system peaks through the holes of the blindfold. Justice for all? As one wise man said, It ain't gonna happen. Writing this book has been an adventure. It has allowed me to release frustration which had dominated most of my life as it pertained to my law enforcement career. I actually held back due to my inexperience in the first book, leaving my legacy half fulfilled. There is one short story that I left out in the first book that makes the whole book worth it all, summarizing the system at its lowest level and reaching the highest government positions. Also I have addressed the questions of numerous readers of the first book concerning names. Names to the readers of Louisiana seem to be of utmost importance, however, the reader in North Dakota embellishes the significance of the story. He may insert his own personal version of who fits in the story, thus satisfying his own similar or speculated world. Thus the journey begins with me as you sit in your quiet place as I relive my life with you. I am the one man story teller and you are my one person audience. Let the journey begin.

After debating almost 20 years about resurrecting the atrocities of my career in Louisiana law enforcement, I feel I owe these factual stories to the honest public who live in a veil of fog over the truth about most corruption. Corruption at any level or any degree is just that corruption. Stories in my book are actual accounts of my day-to-day life as recorded in a daily diary for 27 years. These facts are supported by numerous types of documents, some of which will appear in the book. Most names in the book are fictionalized. In this crazy world we live in we have to actually protect ourselves from the guilty, while our rights are ignored in the process. I have a saying, The names have been changed to protect the guilty. The difference in Louisiana politics is that it's thrown in your face, open for the public to see: brazen, unfettered, and immoral. Fairness and honesty are fictitious terms that burn the mouths of the corrupt when spoken.

I wrestled with the title of the book as well. Should I present the hard facts of a diary of corruption or should I release my internal struggles to achieve fairness and honesty in a cult that perceived those attributes as a threat. Thus another possible title, Slave as Conviction. No one wants to be labeled corrupt and no one makes you corrupt. The individual chooses to make this decision through his own free will and defends his most blatantly crooked actions as he pleads Not Guilty, slapping justice in the face. As they raise their right hand in court they swear to God to tell the truth. With their slick lawyer the trial begins with their defenseless sham. I often said after a back door deal wasn't accomplished, Let the games begin. Laws and justice were often not present in court. Court was, at times, a facade of formalities as the FIX had already been done. To be honest in a world of politics is a life commitment. One step out of line and they have you, or own you would be a better term. They will stoop to the lowest of levels to control you. In addition to control they want secrecy and loyalty. Do what you're told to do at all costs, legal or not.

The price of honesty and justice is very lonely. My strength came from my faith in God. I often told those who tried to corrupt me that they were not just fighting a person but my faith in God. I was perceived as being crazy and a rogue seeking publicity, however, the unveiling of the truth through the media proved to be a strategy received directly from God as a part of his saving grace. Many have asked how I survived. You just heard the reason. The media was always looking for a David and Goliath story. The media portrayed me as a David on a mission, attacking insurmountable odds. Feeding the media bits and pieces of corruption went on for 27 years. Threatening to expose the truth always kept the tyrant at bay. I always insisted that the media use my name in lieu of the cowardly according to sources. There was no turning back when I chose this career path. My job was not a career, but rather a vocation.

Even though I was an honor student in a private high school and throughout my four years of college, I was told it was necessary for me to get the endorsement of the local State Representative. Without this backing there was no job. The roots of control had begun to sprout. On June 10th 1974, I began my career as a game warden.

Chapter 1: Initiation

It did not take long before I was exposed to the corrupt practices of game wardens. At this time the shrimping season was closed in inside waters in order to allow the shrimp to grow to a larger size. On July 19, 1974 while on a closed season shrimp patrol in Terrebonne Parish, Louisiana, we approached five large vessels and one smaller boat in the closed area known as Pass Des Isles. As we approached the vessels from the Gulf of Mexico, I noticed we passed by the five larger vessels and went directly to the smaller boat with just the captain aboard. I was told just to observe. Immediately, the captain of the vessel began to complain about the other five vessels we passed, who were also shrimping in the closed area. The supervisor, Lieutenant Mooch, said Don't worry about them, we have you. As the captain began to derig his equipment for seizure I noticed he had a half a hand. I could see he struggled at times due to his handicap. In conversation the captain stated that he got his hand caught in the winch years before. My feelings were sympathetic toward the fisherman but he was violating, however, I was not prepared for what was to come.

We seized the nets, shrimp and gave a costly citation to the one-handed fisherman. The other five vessels continued to shrimp in closed waters. As we passed the first of the five illegal boats on our way out, I asked one agent What are we doing? Are we not going to stop the other boats? The agent said, No, these boats belonged to a dealer where the department gets free shrimp. That did not sit well with me. I felt sorry for the half-handed fisherman who was an eyewitness to the insensitiveness of the corrupt game wardens. Rightfully so, he placed me in the same category. I vowed to fight the uphill battle segregating my name from the corruption. Little did I know how difficult this would be. To the ordinary person who does not know the industry these fishermen made hundreds of thousands of dollars when allowed to fish in closed season.

In addition, I had to watch as Lieutenant Mooch manipulated his dealings with the shrimp dock where we sold the shrimp at the deflated price in order to get his share of shrimp. The agent said, This is what you signed up for, get used to it. This was my initiation into corruption. I complained, but I was laughed at and ridiculed. I could never accept this type of injustice. They would regret hiring me as a yes man as I would transform into a crusader on a mission for twenty seven years.

Sadly, the name Mooch'' is self explanatory. I believe the man could not help himself. I wasn't there for a month when he took me on what I called the okra patrol" where he instructed me to pick okra at a friend's house. I knew this did not exist in my job description, so I refused as he spent state time picking okra. On another occasion we were on a gill net patrol when we bordered a vessel at night while the crew was eating supper. This operation was after the prized pompano fish. The fishermen received three to nine dollars a pound for the fish. They had several thousand pounds on board. Lieutenant Mooch could not resist, taking the offer of the captain to the tune of approximately one hundred pounds. Upon arrival at the dock he told me to take some fish. I refused as he became upset with me asking if I disapproved of his taking fish. I asked him if he could take fish and then book the same guy with a violation. He did not answer. He was so obsessed with this mooching that the trunk of his car was rusting away due to the seafood hauls. On another occasion I observed his car riding very low in the rear. I asked him to stop so I could ask him a question. He ignored the radio. Later I learned that his trunk was loaded with alligator meat to be distributed at headquarters. I sure don't know where wildlife enforcement fits into this agenda. As you will see this was a common practice during my twenty seven year career.

The White Envelope

Also during this initiation I was informed by one employee that we did not get paid much for our duties. He was right, but I knew that going into the job. This guy showed me a white envelope, as he waved it in my face, stating this is your supplemental pay. I asked him to explain. He said the envelope contained cash that he received from seafood docks every month for favors he granted to the dealers. He further stated you multiply this by however many seafood docks participated and you have a nice sum of money at the end of the month. This guy seemed proud of his enterprise and did not care who knew. This was mooching at a different level. I often asked myself why I was exposed to such blatant corruption, but the answer was as clear as the dew drop of water on a rose petal. This was all part of God's plan and who was I to question it. These acts eclipsed the tip of the iceberg that I was confronted with for the next twenty seven years.

Chapter 2: Uneasy Discretion

Representative Raid

Things went on as usual, I witnessed numerous unmentioned acts of illegal activity by department personnel. Then in the fall of 1976, a series of events defined my path for the rest of my career. There was an unwritten rule that you should not pursue any case involving the federal government and ducks. Of course this rule only applied to certain individuals. Those cases were out of the control of the politicians and could not disappear without consequences from the United States Attorney. Later you will see how this assessment of the Feds was a fallacy as well.

On September 19th, 1975 I received my first uncomfortable call from a Representative asking where the feds were working. I was given the phone number at the Representative's camp in order to warn him. This Representative assumed that I was a cooperative conspirator. In September of 1976 an operation was set up with me and a group of federal agents working the top politicians in the state. The hunt was to take place at the Representative's camp. Prior to the raid, I was ordered by my supervisors to stay out of the area. In order to prevent selective enforcement I told the supervisors I would stay out of the area, knowing that a raid was planned. The feds had great concern that I would be fired. I told the feds if I lose my job, then it was not worth having. This was a test to see how much I would have to endure on my mission. I was prepared for the worse, but the corruption went beyond that.

On September 18, 1976 the raid went as planned with several citations issued for illegal duck hunting. The feds gathered at my house after the raid. It was shortly thereafter I received a phone call from the State Representative. I allowed the feds to listen to the call. The Representative belligerently asked if I was with the feds on his place that morning. I told the representative that I was in the area. Expletives abound stating I was told not to go back there. I told the Representative, Yes, but I went anyway. Shouting to the top of his raspy voice he became extremely agitated and embarrassed at his lack of control over a lowly wildlife agent. I am sure the main topic at the camp became me and my lack of respect for their perceived authority, which I snubbed off as total arrogance. Their kingdom was cracking somewhat like Humpty Dumpty who fell off the wall, however, their magic wand could never put him back together again. I was the glue they had no control over.

The profanity-laced berating continued at a blistering pace. The Representative stated, I am hunting with The Man and you should have stayed away. I asked, Who was The Man? He shouted, The governor boy… the governor. I said nothing while he continued to verbally assault me. I was not the least bit upset because I knew I was being fair. The Man was just that, a man, whose place on this earth was no better than the lowest of his perceived subjects. Put that in your pipe and smoke it.

Later that day, Captain Ram called asking, Did you go back on that property? Weren't you ordered not to go back there? I told Captain Ram, Yes. He stated, I cannot protect you anymore. I asked Captain Ram what he meant by that remark. Captain Ram stated, You are on your own with this one. I cannot believe you did that knowing the governor was there. This is bad!

Immediately, October 2, 1976, The Houma Daily Courier newspaper got wind of the incident and called the chief of enforcement for a comment. The staff did not know how to answer the poignant questions.

Not long after the incident there was a series of brow-beating meetings with the entire rank of supervisors. My intention at one meeting was to stand firm and hold my ground, even though my ground shrunk to a tiny Island. A very unscrupulous ranking official took the lead. Major Rabbit stated, Let me get this straight: You were told by your immediate supervisor to stay out of the area. Is that correct? I hesitated, smiled and said, Yes. Major Rabbit asked why I was smiling. I told him I would not be intimidated by him or anyone. Major Rabbit accused me of disobeying a direct order. I responded by saying that I disobeyed an illegal order. Clarifying this statement I told Major Rabbit that the department did not have the authority to give an illegal order. I asked for the orders in writing so that there would be no misunderstandings to interpret. Major Rabbit began shouting that I was crazy. I asked the Major if it was fair to the other people I caught that day. You are not here to protect them. Major Rabbit stated that I would probably lose my job. I told Major Rabbit I would not go down without a fight. Major Rabbit ordered me to apologize to the Representative in a face-to-face meeting that he would arrange. I agreed to the meeting, unknowing to them, I had no intention to apologize.

Major Rabbit

The reason why he was called "Major Rabbit'' was due to the Governor's appearance at our Wildlife Association Convention where the Governor singled out the Major in front of three hundred people instructing him to get agents to find some rabbits for his mother. I could see the Major was embarrassed, but I am sure he complied. Arrogance had no boundaries, but that was probably the highlight of the Major's career, getting rabbits for the Governor's mama. And this guy wanted respect as my boss. Get real.

Attorney Manipulate

On October 6, 1976, I received a phone call from a very prominent attorney from Houma, Louisiana. Attorney Manipulate stated that he had talked to the Governor. During his conversation with the Governor, it was revealed that the Governor told the Representative to cool it. The conniving attorney offered the Governor a place to hunt, while promising the Governor that he could control me. October 7, 1976 the Governor, according to Attorney Manipulate, told him that he, the Governor, was not going back to hunt with the Representative, his close friend, due to the incident. The Governor wanted to know if I would go on Attorney Manipulate's duck lease. Attorney Manipulate told the Governor ``No. The Governor told the Representative to call Attorney Manipulate to set up a secret hunt out of my reach. During this informative call from Attorney Manipulate, I told him that he misled the Governor about my whereabouts at any given time. Attorney Manipulate questioned, You would not come to my place, would you? I told Attorney Manipulate that I had no reason to go to his place unless I heard that violations were taking place. The attorney arrogantly stated that he could put the Governor in a place that I could not get too. I told Attorney Manipulate that now he was challenging me. Attorney Manipulate grudgingly said, Would you come on my place?" I told Attorney Manipulate not to trust me, because he had overstepped his bounds by promising the Governor that I would not go to his place. I told Attorney Manipulate to hunt legally and he and his guests won't have a problem. Attorney Manipulate was well known in my area and is totally insignificant to the reader in South Africa. Soo, to the curious reader just insert a name of your most favorite unscrupulous attorney and there you have it. We still greet one another with pleasantries as the truth overshadows our stares.

The Anti-Apology

On October 28th, 1976, as anticipated, a meeting was arranged with the Representative. As I walked into his office, I noticed a classmate of mine sitting to the right. There were two guys in suits standing next to this lavish leather chair much like a throne, where the Representative sat shouting orders on the phone, telling someone to build that fence twice as tall to keep those F…ing game wardens out. Everyone in the room laughed. The Representative ended the conversation and asked me What do you want? I told him I was there to talk as ordered by Major Rabbit. He quipped, Talk. I told him I wanted to talk in private. He told me not to tell him what to do. I said, I am leaving. He agreed and sent everybody away.

He started by saying, What the F you were thinking coming on my property? I let the Representative rant and rave for twenty minutes about how important he was. As it turned out the whole purpose of the meeting, other than berating me, was to discover the identity of my informant. He went on to list the names of the important people at his camp that day and how insignificant I was in the scheme of things. I got tired of his ranting and then threw a question out to him sarcastically, How many wood ducks did you kill that Saturday morning during the teal only season? He abruptly stood up and asked, Are you asking me or are you accusing me of violating? I replied, I am only asking you a question. The Representative called his secretary into his office to take notes. I told him I would not talk with her in the office and he would never find out who was my informant. This drove him crazy. I went to the door to leave. He stopped me and agreed to my terms. I asked what he would do to the informant. He arrogantly stated Let me worry about that. He will never do it again. I will write what you are thinking…What a pompous a–. Little did he know the informant was someone who hunted at his camp. Hypocrisy was the cushion that muffled their mouths as no one had loyalty to the other, thus Roy entered to settle vendettas.

The Representative then stated that I personally caught someone close to him that day on his lease. I confirmed the case, and I told him I caught others as well. Then the Representative's true colors were exposed in his epilogue. I don't give a F about them, you can catch anyone you want in my district. I want you to leave me alone. I asked the representative if that was fair for him to have that power to tell people to violate the law and overlook violations. I asked what if the public knew of this philosophy. I told him I could not do that. I told him he would have to get rid of me if he thought he could. Then a very profound and visual characterization happened:

I am Representative ___, worth 3.2 million dollars, as he put wrist to wrist in a crossing manner, he stated I am blood with the Governor and you are my F… N… I will do what I want to you - You can't do anything. I am going to send your ass to Dry Prong, Louisiana.

I responded, And that's fair. I told Representative Blood Brother (BB) I was not going to give him the name of my informant, nor would I give him a free ride to violate the law. Representative BB charged at me as if to physically hit me. We stared face-to-face. He went over to a mirror combing his hair saying, I just wasted three hours of my time with you. I sarcastically stated, Does this mean that you won't support me for a promotion? He shouted, Get out! having his bodyguards escort me out of his office. I figured I was gone, but not without a fight. Boy did I feel good after not backing down, laying my platform for the future.

As part of their harassment the department ordered me not to work in Representative BB's voting district. I requested the orders in writing and they said they can't do that. I let the department know that such orders were illegal. On July 14, 1978 as predicted and promised by Representative BB, I was sent for the first time out of my district, to a place called none other than Dry Prong, Louisiana. I was there to teach hunter safety to seven hundred 4-H students at Camp Grant Walker. I had a great time with the kids which proved to be a