LAW ENFORCEMENT
By David T. López
Houston Policing:
Lessons from the Past
P
olice brutality incidents in Houston in the 1970s1 presaged the current demonstrations of frustration and anger against law enforcement agencies. Questions persist. Does ethnicity or race affect how individuals are treated by police? If there is a systemic problem, can it be effectively addressed through the laws? On August 29, 1975, a going-away party was held for a University of Houston doctoral Joe Campos Torres was a veteran of the Vietnam War. student. Attending were about 60 present and former university students. They included lawyers and several activists of La Raza Unida Party, some of whom had been candidates for local and statewide office. The party was held at a private residence in the near East Side, not far from the university. As the party was ending, Elliott Navarro and his soon-to-be-spouse got into an argument on the street outside the party. A Houston Police unit patrolling the neighborhood stopped to investigate. The two police officers were told it was just a disagreement, but offered to drive Navarro’s girlfriend home. When Navarro protested, the police angrily attacked him. The party was breaking up, and Daniel Bustamante, a host, saw the police with Navarro. Bustamante asked Douglas DeBakey, licensed the previous year and the only lawyer left at the party, to go with him to check the situation. Eduardo Canales and Fred Garza, Bustamante’s friends and fellow political activists, followed Bustamante and DeBakey. The four men found Navarro groaning in
physical distress. DeBakey identified himself to the police as a lawyer and attempted to get information. One of the police officers drew his revolver and pointed it at Bustamante, Canales, and Garza, ordering them away. As he was walking toward the sidewalk, Bustamante was struck on the head with a flashlight, and he turned to see Canales and Garza also being beaten. Another police unit arrived, and two other police officers joined in the assault. Navarro, by that time, had been thrown to the ground, picked up, and put into a patrol car. About a dozen party guests witnessed the incident, including Mrs. DeBakey and other women who were crying and loudly protesting. Bustamante, Canales, Garza, and DeBakey were arrested and charged with assault and interference with the police. Bustamante, his head, face, and shirt covered with blood, asked to be taken to a doctor, but he was taken to jail with the others. DeBakey’s family posted his bail bond. Bustamante, Canales, Garza, and Navarro spent the night in jail until the DeBakey family posted their bail in the morning. Charges eventually were dismissed in municipal court against all except Navarro, who entered a guilty plea to a misdemeanor charge. In October, 1976, Bustamante, Canales, Garza, and Navarro filed a federal civil rights lawsuit, Bustamante v. Hofheinz,2 against the four police officers, the police chief, and the mayor. The plaintiffs’ claims against a federal agency that challenged the funding of police programs were dismissed because the issue had not been administratively presented. The remaining claims were set for trial. During the pendency of the Bustamante suit, there was an occurrence so grievous that it drew considerable national attention. It happened in 1977 on May 5th, Cinco de Mayo, a date celebrated by Mexican-Americans with pride, and similar, but not yet quite as boisterous, as St. Patrick’s Day. On that day, 23-year-old Jose “Joe” Campos Torres went to drink at a canti-
