‘The Case of the Missing Attachment’
Someday the leadership of the Massachusetts State Police is going to do the right thing. But I’m not holding my breath.
Massachusetts State Police leave more questions than answers
Someday the leadership of the Massachusetts State Police is going to do the right thing.
But I’m not holding my breath.
You’d almost think the staties have something to hide, the way they refuse to release any pertinent information about the rampant crime wave the MSP has unleashed on the Commonwealth.
This week it’s the cover-up of the departmental investigation of disgraced ex-trooper Mark Kelley, #3979. Kelley was fired just almost a year ago after a “medical emergency” that prompted a search for contraband drugs in both his MSP cruiser and another federally funded unmarked vehicle.
Kelley, on the gang unit, made a stop earlier in the day that he got, uh, sick.
Kelley confiscated 23 grams of what was apparently cocaine. The 35-year-old cop got off duty, went home, spoke to his wife, went upstairs and then collapsed. What do you suppose could have possibly happened?
He ended up in Morton Hospital in Taunton, where State Police detectives interviewed his wife (we assume, because they redacted the word that is apparently “wife”).
The crooked staties stonewalled us from the moment we got the tip, which was instantly.
I have no doubt that if we hadn’t gotten the heads-up about Kelley’s “medical emergency,” he would still be on the prowl in his jodhpurs and his Smokey the Bear hat, or maybe plainclothes, grabbing multiple bags of contraband (as the MSP discreetly describes it) as part of his law-enforcement duties.
Just like the Foxboro Flasher would still be on the job. Or the lover-boy statie who had his MSP-issued firearm stolen by gangbangers in Providence while he was involved in a third-rate romance low-rent rendezvous.
Apparently the rule for the State Police is that as long as this newspaper doesn’t find out what you’re doing, you’re OK.
To give you an indication of how the brass are trying to cover up for their pal, here’s the key part of the report on him, which begins:
“The following recapitulation of events was learned through police and investigative reports which all appear as attachments to this report:”
Followed by four paragraphs that are totally redacted, which means, blacked out, with no attachments attached.
Then an unblacked-out paragraph:
“A copy of the Middleborough Police Report is attached as Exhibit 3:”
And that’s also redacted, blacked out.
This raises a recurring question: do these bent cops know what the word “attachment” means? Because they never attach any of the “attachments.”
Here’s a tip to the local constabulary: When you write that something is attached, that means that said “attachment” is joined or connected to the main section of whatever it is that the attachment is attached to. Got it?
And this attachment shortage is not just a State Police problem, either. A couple of weeks ago there was another case of attachments on a police report that went missing. That one involves the Barnstable Police Department and the son of the colonel of the State Police, Christopher Mason.
Reid Mason, age 22, was encountered by the Barnstable PD on the morning of Feb. 28 in a parking lot outside a hack-infested gin mill in Hyannis. He was hanging out of his SUV, the door open, reeking of booze.
Inside the vehicle, the BPD cops found five firearms, one of which, a Glock 17, was unregistered and unlicensed.
The Barnstable police wrote two different reports about the colonel’s son, two months apart. When they finally coughed up the second one – we’re still waiting to see the first one – the report said that all the ammunition they found in Reid Mason’s backpack was listed in an “attachment.”
We were particularly interested in what kind of magazine he had for the mysterious Glock 17, because some types of magazines are less available to non-law enforcement than others, if you get my drift.
Unfortunately, the referenced attachment was not … attached.
Do you begin to detect a pattern here? If you’re MSP, or even related to someone in the MSP, anything that might embarrass you is somehow … not attached.
I’m baffled by this phenomenon. This would be a good mystery for Sherlock Holmes or Matlock or Charlie Chan to unravel. They could call it “The Case of the Missing Attachment.”
Getting back to Kelley, I guess the argument is that he had a … “medical emergency,” as Col. Mason et al. first called his, ahem, problem, when they thought they’d be able to sweep everything under the rug.
Of course, medical records are protected under HIPAA, unless of course you’re a state trooper who doesn’t want to take a stupid, ineffective possibly dangerous vaccination for the Red Chinese flu. Then, you just get fired with a dishonorable discharge.
In other words, like most federal laws today, HIPAA is designed as a shield for some Americans (Democrats) and as a bludgeon against others (Republicans).
Matt Kelley must be a Democrat, the way that black Sharpie was being wielded in Framingham to cover up his embarrassment.
But sometimes in the report, the Staties let the fig leaf slip, as when they describe his home in Middleborough as a “crime scene.”
And in the report’s “CONCLUSION” you can read that “this investigation revealed sufficient evidence to conclude that Trooper Kelley did violate the (redacted) laws of the Commonwealth (MGL 94c-34, by being in possession of (redacted), a (redacted).)”
Speaking of redacted, do you what truth is to the State Police? It’s a controlled substance.
The cited law, by the way, concerns “Unlawful possession of particular controlled substances, including heroin and marijuana …”
I don’t know about you, but my respect for the MSP is becoming … unattached.