No Justice for Jack Yantis: The "Smoking Gun" is a Bloody Bullet

Jack Yantis with his now-widow, Donna.

(See update below.)



"Perhaps you can account also for the bullet which has so obviously hit the window?”

“By George! How ever did you see that?”

“Because I looked for it.”

Sherlock Holmes chides the indifferently attentive Inspector Martin of the Norfolk Constabulary, in “The Adventure of the Dancing Men.”

Critical evidence will sometimes evade the notice of an inattentive or inept investigator because he is not looking for it. When that evidence has been found, documented, and then ignored by the investigator, something worse than incompetence – most likely malice or corruption -- is at work. This is true of what Idaho Attorney General Lawrence Wasden calls “the most critical piece of physical evidence” in the officer-inflicted homicide of Jack Yantis, a rancher from Council who was slaughtered by two Adams County sheriff’s deputies last November 1.

That crucial piece of evidence was a “spent shell casing” in Yantis’s rifle, along with what was described as a .20 caliber bullet found in the middle of the scene.

Yantis was summoned to that scene by the Sheriff’s Dispatcher after Deputies Brian Wood and Cody Roland were unable to euthanize one of his bulls, which had been struck by a vehicle on Highway 95. Five minutes after Yantis arrived and attempted to dispatch the wounded animal, he was cut down in a frantic fusillade after one of the deputies, most likely Roland, panicked and opened fire.  Wood instantly joined in, although in his initial interview with the Idaho State Police three days later he could not clearly articulate why.

“Sixteen (16) spent .223 shell casings and four (4) spent .45 shell casings were recovered at the scene,” Wasden summarizes. “These casings indicate that twenty (20) shots were fired by the officers.” The twenty-first round “could have come from Jack’s .204, [but] the FBI expert who tested the bullet will not testify to that fact conclusively,” Wasden continues. “There is no solid explanation as to how that bullet, if fired from Jack’s gun, came to rest in the middle of the scene.”

This is a monumental understatement, given that it is a fair approximation of an impossibility that the round could have wound up where it was if it had been fired by Yantis – especially when it’s understood that the bullet contained traces of Yantis’s blood. This was known no later than January 4^th of this year, when the ISP’s Forensics department positively identified Jack Yantis as “the source of the blood on this item” – the “item” in question being a “deformed rifle bullet” that had been collected on the scene, but not accounted for.

The presence of a spent shell casing in Yantis’s bolt-action rifle means that he (or someone else) had fired the weapon at some point prior to being shot, not necessarily that he fired a shot on the scene, let alone at the deputies. The fact that his blood was found on the “deformed rifle bullet” almost certainly means that the deputies fired all twenty-one rounds that have been accounted for.

Wasden knew this, or at least he had no excuse not to know it. He likewise either knew, or certainly should have known, that this destroys the official claim that Yantis precipitated a “gunfight” by firing on the deputies, who returned fire in self-defense.

The balance of probabilities suggests that Yantis arrived on the scene with a rifle that hadn’t been cleared since its previous use, and that the deputies (to borrow Wasden’s language in describing a possibility he dismissed) “fired in a fit of recklessness.” This would certainly fit the definition of  manslaughter – an unlawful killing committed “without due caution and circumspection….”

According to both deputies’ accounts, as Yantis had lined up a kill-shot on the bull, Wood approached him and tried to prevent him from pulling the trigger, ostensibly out of concern that a shot would imperil EMTs and other responders on the scene. Both Roland and Wood initially claimed that Yantis pointed his bolt-action rifle in the direction of Roland and fired a shot at the deputy.

Wood (l.) and Roland.

“When that shot happened and I started shooting and then I – I assumed he had shot at Cody and I didn’t know if Cody was hit or not,” Wood stammered during his November 4 interview. After opening fire, Wood continued, “I had somehow time in that moment to go, `Oh, if that wasn’t him shooting.’ I know he threatened him. He shoved it [the rifle] out at him. If that wasn’t him shooting, there’s still a round in that gun….”

Roland’s story was that Wood had reached out toward Yantis, and that the small, slender 62-year-old man, who was practically crippled, somehow shoved the much younger, much larger deputy and left him off-balance. Both deputies have repeatedly denied that either of them ever touched Yantis’s rifle.

That was not Roland’s original story, however.

In the report of his November 3 interview with Roland, ISP Detective Jason Horst recorded that “As soon as Wood lost control of Yantis’ loaded gun, [Roland] reached down to try to un-holster his pistol.” (Emphasis added.) What this means is that at some point, Wood had control of the weapon, at least according to the other deputy. Roland went on to claim that Yantis turned the rifle in his direction, and that there was an “almost simultaneous” discharge of his pistol and Yantis’s rifle.

“He remembered the blast of the rifle and for lack of a better term, it rung [sic] his bell,” narrates Horst.

As noted above, there is no physical evidence to corroborate Roland’s claim that Yantis fired his rifle. An eyewitness named Tamara Sue Evanow (see page 236 of the Attorney General’s comprehensive file on the case) told ISP investigators that Yantis never pointed his rifle at either deputy. While Roland and Wood have claimed that Yantis was angry and aggressive, in Evanow’s account the rancher was composed and focused. The deputies, by way of contrast, were flustered and panicking.

“She was looking out her mirror and she saw the guy with the gun (Yantis) point down at the bull, then put his hand over up to his forehead like he had wiped it,” recites the ISP report. “There were also officers present. She thought he couldn’t do it and then heard someone yell `shoot that thing’ and just kept screaming at him (Yantis), `Shoot that thing.’… While still looking in her mirror, she saw the man (Yantis) turn to face whoever was yelling at him. She did not know who was yelling because there was a police car parked right behind her which obstructed her view. When she turned, the gun was still pointing toward the animal. She then heard approximately 4 to 5 gunshots.”

After the shooting began, Evanow’s husband grabbed her by the head and pulled her down. When she looked up again, she saw the deputies “throw a man to the ground, with a knee in the back….” Since this happened within seconds of the shooting, the prone figure had to have been the mortally wounded Yantis.

In every officer-involved fatal shooting, as I have noted before, the dead person is identified as the “suspect,” and the killer or killers will be designated as the victim(s). This means that every investigation of an incident of this kind is inevitably designed to build a case against the decedent, rather than to determine whether the shooters committed a criminal act.

All that is necessary to indict a suspect is for a prosecutor – or a grand jury – to decide that probable cause exists that a criminal act was committed. When police officers commit an act of homicide, however, the district attorney (or, in this case, a special prosecutor) will, in effect, try the case in a non-adversarial proceeding – and dismiss it without an indictment if he concludes that the charges cannot be proven beyond a reasonable doubt.

The only important witnesses to the Yantis shooting, Wasden pretends, are Yantis’s wife, Donna; his nephew, Rowdy Paradis; and the two perpetrators, deputies Roland and Wood.

“The ultimate question is whether, when weighing these contradictory accounts, a jury would have reasonable doubt as to whether the officers’ use of deadly force was not `reasonably necessary,’” Wasden intones. He insists that a “capable defense attorney would highlight the basis for doubt by contrasting the observations of Rowdy and Donna with those of Wood and Roland.”

Yes, the job of a defense attorney is to force the state to prove the charges against the defendants – a task for which Wasden clearly had no appetite. If he had, he would have underscored the contradictions in the accounts (such as Roland’s original admission that Wood at one point controlled Yantis’s rifle) offered by the shooters, and the absence of physical evidence supporting the claim that Yantis had fired his rifle on the scene. He would also point out that at least three witnesses not involved in the shooting contradict key claims made by the men who killed Yantis.

For Wasden, however, the only evidence that ultimately mattered was the self-serving, and self-contradictory, stories told by the privileged predators who killed the man they had summoned to carry out a dangerous task that was beyond their competence.

“While the officers’ stories are not identical with each other in every detail, there is sufficient consistency between them to create, at a minimum, reasonable doubt regarding whether their actions were not justified,” declares Wasden in the written equivalent of a “sucks to be you” shrug. Once again, in any fatal shooting carried out by people not invested with Blue Privilege, the applicable threshold for an indictment would be probable cause, not proof beyond reasonable doubt.

Wasden and his underlings have certainly displayed a willingness to indict Mundanes on the flimsiest of pretexts.

A decade ago, Wasden’s office filed a felony criminal complaint against Carol Asher, a 66-year-old retired schoolteacher, accusing her of “perjury” because she had the temerity to act as a conscientious juror in a spurious and abusive drug prosecution.   

The only “evidence” sustaining that indictment was the unsupported claim of the jury foreman. That state-worshiping invertebrate who violated the confidentiality of jury deliberations to tell the aggrieved prosecutor that Asher had stated, correctly, that jurors have plenary authority to try both the facts and the law of a case, and that the judge’s rulings regarding the applicable law are advisory, rather than authoritative.

If she had been convicted of perjury, Asher would have faced a 14-year prison sentence. The alacrity with which Wasden’s office sought an indictment against her – for the supposed offense of telling fellow jurors to examine the prosecution’s evidence critically --  offers a telling contrast to the enervating, tax-devouring nine-month exercise in contriving “reasonable doubt” on behalf of two deputies who gunned down an innocent man without legal justification.

Sometimes an investigator will miss critical evidence because he doesn’t know where to look for it. Wasden had the most important evidence in his possession – a proverbial smoking gun in the form of a bloody bullet – and deliberately chose to ignore it, and his office continues to misdirect public attention away from it. This is culpable malfeasance in the service of murderous impunity. 

                                             Update, August 14


In the comments below, Paul Bonneau points out that there is some confusion in the FBI document as to whether the item being discussed is a "bullet" or a "case."

"People use the word `bullet' all the time when they really mean `cartridge,' so maybe the confusion got injected at some point by an ignorant secretary or other functionary," he observes. If the item was a spent case, then one likely explanation is that Yantis arrived on the scene with an empty case in the chamber, ejected it, and that it wound up spattered by his blood after he was shot.

"If there was also a spent case in Yantis' rifle, along with the one on the ground that received blood spatter, that means Yantis actually did get a shot off into the bull," he continues.  "That shot may have been the thing that precipitated the cops' panic if one or both of them did not expect it. Sounds like manslaughter to me."

This reconstruction would make sense in light of Mrs. Evanow's testimony that Yantis kept his rifle pointed at the bull during the entire incident, as one of the deputies screamed at him to shoot the creature. This would mean that after he pulled the trigger, Wood would have grabbed (or at least tried to grab) the gun, causing one or both of them to lose balance. This would have lead to a moment of confusion in which Roland -- who has said he had "tunnel vision" on Yantis's gun -- to start shooting out of the "no hesitation" officer safety reflex, and Wood to join in.

On this construction, Yantis did everything he was told to do by the deputies, and was killed by them when they panicked. That would indeed constitute the crime of manslaughter.

We're left with the fact that the presence of Yantis's blood on the "bullet" was a piece of evidence that would have sent the investigation in a direction the AG's office did not want to go -- which would have meant investigating this incident as a criminal homicide, rather than ratifying it as a "justified" use of lethal force by the officers.
 

This week's Freedom Zealot Podcast also examines the most recent revelations in the Jack Yantis case:

Dum spiro, pugno!

Mundane Lives Don't Matter, So Don't Try to Exercise Your Rights (UPDATED October 4)

See update below.
 
In every encounter between a police officer and a citizen, only one life matters to the former – and it isn’t the latter. 

“Follow the commands of a police officer or risk dying,” snarled Major Travis Yates of the Tulsa Police Department in a recent essay for Law Officer. Requiring police officers to respect the rights of the citizens they detain, or to practice de-escalation when citizens assert their rights, would be tantamount to asking that “police stop being police” – that is, commissioned ministers of violence acting on behalf of the divine State.

Whenever a police officer inflicts himself on a citizen, every consideration is made for officer safety, despite the fact that the citizen is the one facing an immediate, known risk of lethal violence. A Mundane who acts upon specific police instruction to take minimal precautions for his own safety runs the additional risk of a ruinous and unjustified arrest – or a life-threatening assault by one of his privileged overseers in a state-issued costume. 

Claire and Daniel McIsaac (l. to r.)

Idaho Falls resident Daniel McIsaac was stopped for speeding shortly after midnight on April 16 on an isolated stretch of Highway 26, near milepost 177 and Marley Road. This is a section of south-central Idaho where several recent confrontations have occurred between motorists and police impersonators. 

Unfortunately for McIsaac and his wife Claire, the armed stranger who detained them was Lincoln County Sheriff’s Deputy Scott Denning. A police impersonator is immeasurably less dangerous than someone claiming to be invested with the mystical property called “authority” that supposedly allows him to use aggressive violence against someone who doesn’t submit to him. 

The encounter began badly, with Denning flinging four commands into McIssac’s face before identifying himself as an officer, or showing any credentials. No, a uniform and chintzy piece of costume jewelry didn’t qualify, and neither did the running lights on Denning’s vehicle. “Authentic” insignia don’t legitimately confer special rights or privileges on those who carry them, of course. However, it is useful for the victim of a roadside detention to know if the person who has stopped him can summon others in the event the victim decides to end the encounter on his own terms. 

Denning demanded that McIsaac extinguish his cigarette, and they briefly argued as to whether the deputy’s “authority” extends to that detail. If the deputy were actually a servant, rather than someone claiming to exercise proprietary control over a citizen, he wouldn’t enjoy the privilege of telling the citizen to extinguish a cigarette while sitting in his own vehicle. Patrol officers are taught to pretend that they smell marijuana or alcohol during a traffic stop, and the demand that a driver snuff his cigarette is often a prelude to reciting that pretext for a vehicle search. (As the late Sandra Bland learned, that demand can also be an overture to an unlawful arrest that can have fatal consequences.)

Doing as he was told: Daniel calls 911.

After Denning demanded that McIsaac exit the vehicle with his papers at the ready, the driver quite sensibly asked the deputy to provide him with his precinct number.

“For what?” Denning impatiently snapped. 

“I’m going to call them report this,” McIsaac explained

“You go right ahead,” the deputy dismissively replied.

At this point in the conversation, Deputy Denning explicitly instructed McIsaac to confirm that he was dealing with a law enforcement officer, rather than an impersonator. From that point forward, McIsaac was complying with an officer’s instructions, and doing so with commendable composure in the face of Denning’s entirely needless escalation.

As McIsaac attempted to call the LCSO, Denning called for backup, and then growled: “Sir, comply with what I’m telling you or I’m going to arrest you.” 

“There’s nobody else on the road – this is dangerous!” McIsaac correctly observed.

“No, it’s not,” Denning replied – meaning, of course, it wasn’t dangerous to the only person who mattered to him in the encounter. 

“There’s nobody else on the road,” the driver pointed out. “How do I know you’re a cop? Show me your identification.”

“I don’t have to show you my identification,” Denning lied. “You can see I’m in full uniform and a marked unit” – a claim that has been made, within recent months, by police impersonators in that same section of Idaho. 

“I’m calling 911 right now,” McIssac informed Denning. 

“OK,” the deputy responded – for the second time explicitly authorizing McIsaac to take minimal precautions for his own safety. 

McIsaac dialed 911 and requested another unit “because, you know, it can be very dangerous, with people impersonating cops, and stuff,” he told the operator. “He’s getting very, very aggressive…. I want to wait for another officer, because I am very uncomfortable.”

“Dispatch – have ‘em step it up,” Denning grunted into his lapel radio, which as it happens was the same course of action McIsaac was pursuing. 

After finishing his 911 call, McIsaac emerged from the vehicle, and was arrested for “obstructing and delaying an officer.” The entire encounter had lasted five minutes and thirty-three seconds. 

“Just so you know,” McIssac said after being cuffed and stuffed, “I wasn’t really trying to be rude. I hear lots of stories of people getting pulled over – you’ve probably heard those, too – I was told to call and make sure it’ safe….”

“You’re obstructing my duties,” his kidnapper insisted.

Actually, McIsaac was seeking to assure his own safety, and that of his wife, which he has every right to do. Exercising that right, however, is an act falling within the ever-expanding definition of the un-legislated, but sternly punished, offense called “contempt of cop.”

“I’ve been told in the past that if you’re pulled over on a deserted highway, to double-check,” McIsaac patiently elaborated.

“So – do you know many people who are out running around in full uniform in fully-marked patrol units that are impersonating police officers?” Denning sneer-gloated. 

The answer to that question, the deputy most likely knew, was “yes.”
 

Verify, then comply: ISP Lt. Weadick.

Within very recent memory, there have been at least three incidents in which drivers in south-central Idaho have been stopped and harassed by an armed police impersonator (a fact that has been pointed out by Meridian police accountability activist Matthew Townsend.) Those incidents all took place within easy driving distance of the dark, isolated stretch of Highway 26 where McIsaac was waylaid by a state-licensed highway predator. One of the incidents involved  a physical assault by the impersonator, who may not have had government-issued credentials but certainly behaved as if he were an authentic cop. There have been similar incidents elsewhere in the state. 

Police agencies across the country have consistently told the public that if there is any doubt as to the identity of the person conducting a traffic stop, drivers should proceed to a populated, well-lit stretch of road, or at least call 911 to verify that the highwayman has been given an official license to harass his betters.

If the driver is concerned about the identity of the armed stranger, especially if “the person won’t identify themselves [sic] … call 911,” Idaho State Police Lt. Chris Weadick told television viewers in Idaho Falls on January 16, 2015. “Talk to a dispatcher and try to get to the bottom of who’s out there talking to you.”

Precisely the same advice was given by the Idaho Falls Police Department, with specific reference to police impersonator incidents in the very section of south-central Idaho where McIsaac had his infuriating encounter with the officious Deputy Denning.

In the event a driver is unsure about the identity of the person who has stopped him, “roll up your window, lock your door and call 911 and verify the person is a police officer,” counseled the IFPD. “If you feel your life is in danger, drive away – still maintain the speed limit and obey the rules of the road – to a well-lit, public area and call 911.”

Both the ISP and IFPD clearly encouraged drivers in McIsaac’s position not to comply until they were satisfied that it was safe to do so. Denning himself twice instructed McIsaac to act on that advice—and then arrested him for doing what he had been repeatedly been told, by police, was the appropriate thing. 

McIsaac, who, once again resides in Idaho Falls, has a Master’s Degree and is employed as a counselor at a local rehabilitation facility. He was polite in the exercise of his rights as they had been explained to him by three entities or individuals speaking on behalf of the government. His arrest was thus an act of entrapment by estoppel – a due process violation that occurs when a citizen is charged with a crime for conduct that he had been assured was legal and proper.

Denning on the range.

By arresting McIsaac for exercising his rights, Denning – who is under investigation by the Idaho POST Council for unspecified charges – committed what the Idaho State Code (18-703) defines as an “illegal arrest or seizure.” He conveyed him to the Lincoln County Jail in nearby Shoshone, which was already full, and then to the Jerome County lockup.

Because he had no legal right to incarcerate McIsaac for any length of time, Denning compounded the false arrest with the offense of false imprisonment – defined by the state code (18-2901) as “the unlawful violation of the personal liberty of another.” If he weren’t protected by qualified immunity, Denning would be liable to a one-year prison term and a $5,000 fine.

Although McIsaac has been found guilty of nothing, he and his family have already been punished because he behaved precisely as the police had instructed him. If he is convicted of the "crime" of following well-established citizen safety protocols, McIsaac could be sent to jail for a year.

“I was able, by some miracle, to get $610 from an ATM at 3:30 in the morning to pay Dan’s bail,” his wife Claire told Pro Libertate. The couple has made four 300-mile round trips from Idaho Falls to Shoshone to attend three pre-trial hearings and an abortive trial on July 25.

The trial was postponed during voir dire when it became clear that few, if any, of the potential jurors understood the concept of presumption of innocence. Owing to the stupid intransigence of the prosecutor’s office in pursuing a manifestly invalid criminal case, the McIsaacs will be compelled to make at least one more round-trip: Their trial was originally rescheduled for August 15, and then capriciously pushed back again to October 4.

Claire estimates that the family has already been forced to sink more than a thousand dollars into this legal struggle, which – although she was far too polite to say as much – was inflicted on them because a pathologically self-preoccupied deputy took offense that a Mundane tried to act in the interests of his safety, and that of his wife. After all, in such encounters, only “Blue Lives” really matter. 

                                                    UPDATE, October 4:

A Lincoln County jury acquitted Daniel McIssac after very brief deliberation. Deputy Denning's gratuitous effort to punish a Mundane for the exercise of his rights ended without a fine, additional jail time, or probation -- but it did cost an innocent family more than a thousand dollars and several days that could have been devoted to more productive pursuits.

After getting his tax-fattened ass handed to him in court, the butt-hurt costumed bully tried to salve his ego by inflicting one last increment of misery on his betters.

"We just left the courthouse, and [Denning] followed us," Claire informed me shortly after the trial concluded. "He followed us down the road. He appeared out of nowhere and followed us."

Scotty, if you read this -- and I know you will -- get over it. Man up and deal with the fact that you had every conceivable advantage and got your arrogant, privileged ass kicked. Fairly soon, I suspect, POST will revoke your privileges and compel you either to find honest work -- which would be a novelty in your case -- or take the Gypsy Cop ratline to another jurisdiction. In either case, just choke down your bitter defeat and go the hell away.

Beware, Adams County; a privileged "sociopath" is about to return to patrol duty -- this week's Freedom Zealot Podcast:

Dum spiro, pugno!