Racism Reversed

But the mayor's response was less than satisfactory. "I don't like him," she said simply. "He's done a lot of things you don't know about." When asked to elaborate, Broadie refused. "This conversation is over," she said.

Confused, Lockhart searched Ramsey's file. He found no complaints, no suspensions or excessive disciplinary actions. Nothing to warrant Broadie's reaction.

But Lockhart decided not to question. Broadie had been in Woodmere a lot longer than he had — maybe she knew something. So he submitted another name for approval: Bill Letso, an experienced officer with superior evaluations.

Broadie didn't support him for the same reason: "I don't like him," she said. This time, Lockhart didn't have to revisit Letso's file. He already knew it was Ivory-soap clean.

Ugly thoughts started tapping on his head: Both Ramsey and Letso are white. The mayor, he realized, "has a problem with white officers."

The chief's thesis gained greater weight when his next suggestion for sergeant — Gerald Tate, a black officer with qualifications akin to Letso's — was approved automatically.

Slowly, Lockhart began to sniff the sour scent of racism. He dug back through disciplinary files, finding an alarming pattern that showed the mayor "heavily favoring the black officers."

Take Masai Brown, a black cop with a rap sheet that rivaled Ol' Dirty Bastard's. In 1999, he'd gone to Cleveland to solicit hookers. As he drove away, he noticed the woman had stolen his cell phone. Rather than simply report it missing, Brown, according to police reports, decided the best way to handle the situation was to drive back and shoot at the woman.

When the prostitutes didn't show up to testify in court, the charges were dropped. But Brown kept his job — and kept abusing his power. He was cited for watching online porn at work and for trying to pick up women at a local hotel. He also falsified a report, then tried to get another officer to lie for him.

Lockhart twice recommended that Brown be fired. Instead, Broadie promoted him to detective and eventually sergeant.

Then there was John Patterson. In 2003, the black officer was off duty when he spotted a woman driving erratically in Mayfield Heights. Rather than call Mayfield police, Patterson trailed the driver. When the terrified woman finally pulled over in a parking lot, Patterson approached, telling her, "Stop your vehicle — if you hit me, I'll shoot you," according to Patterson's personnel file. The woman, not knowing whether Patterson was a real cop or not, started crying. The mayor laughed off the incident, giving Patterson a one-day suspension.

Meanwhile, Mark Ramsey was working under far more stringent supervision.

Since Broadie's meeting with Lockhart, she hadn't bothered to hide her distaste for the white officer. She referred to him publicly as a "nasty individual," Lockhart claims. And where she was lenient with black officers, she was quick to bring the hammer down on whites.

In 2002, white officer Tim Ellis approached Ramsey for permission to change a light bulb in his cruiser. But removing equipment from a police car is illegal. When Lockhart found out about the infraction, he thought the officer deserved a verbal reprimand, and that Ramsey should be given a gentle reminder of the rules.

But the mayor had other ideas. She told Lockhart to suspend Ellis for a day without pay. Then she ordered the same for Ramsey.

Lockhart was disgusted. "The mayor never did anything to a black sergeant when one of their guys did something wrong," he says. The racism was "blatant."

Broadie hadn't hired him to be police chief, he came to realize. She'd hired him to be her henchman. It was a role that Lockhart refused. But when he started standing up for white officers, Broadie set the dogs on him.

After graduating from the Cleveland Heights Police Academy in 2001, Amy Mengay spent frustrating months searching for a job. So when Woodmere called, offering a part-time slot, she went looking for champagne.

Mengay's father wasn't as excited. He worried about Amy being one of the few women on the job. But Mengay swatted away his concerns. She was a tomboy; she'd been playing with the boys all her life.

The Mengays never considered that her gender wouldn't be the issue. The problem was her pale, sunburn-prone skin.

On one of her first days on the job, a colleague told her to "watch her back" because "the mayor's a racist," she says. A black police officer whispered to the chief's assistant that the mayor "had it in for" the white officer.

Mengay dismissed the words as hyperbole. "I was just so excited to have a job, I didn't really notice the racism at first."