Raising Cane
By Rob Perez
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Strip bar raids
raise eyebrowsWhat a job.
Plainclothes policemen on an undercover assignment go to a strip bar and try to act like regular customers. They drink booze and watch nude dancers gyrate to blaring music.
An officer buys a dancer a drink or two. They talk. They get cozy. She may even perform a personal dance for him, usually in a secluded part of the club.
At some point, the dancer allegedly makes "sexual contact." She allegedly touches the officer's pants in the crotch area, straddles his lap or makes some other provocative contact.
A similar scene can happen several times over several hours involving different officers and different dancers. Sometimes the investigators return to the club a second or third time to gather more "evidence."
Days later, officers -- some wearing ski masks, all wearing bullet-proof vests -- storm the darkened club as terrified employees and customers wonder what's going on. The dancers eventually are lined up, photographed and arrested.
The charge? Prostitution.
Yes, prostitution.
Even though no sex was involved, at least not the type normally associated with the world's "oldest profession," the women are busted courtesy of a 1998 ruling by the Hawaii Supreme Court.
In that ruling, the justices upheld a lower court's finding that the touching of sexual parts in exchange for money constituted prostitution, even if the touching was done through clothing. The ruling stemmed from the conviction of Kauai businessman Carl Richie for promoting prostitution.
Honolulu police for the past few years have been using the Richie ruling to crack down on strip clubs, hostess bars and other establishments where prostitution allegedly occurs.
The investigations, they say, typically stem from citizen complaints.
But critics are raising numerous questions about the methods police use and what may be motivating the crackdowns.
Club owners, dancers, defense attorneys and others question the accuracy of the investigations and say police increasingly are using the Richie ruling to intimidate club employees and customers for actions that fall far short of prostitution and should be called something else.
"I don't do that kind of stuff," said Bunnie Dusseau, an exotic dancer who was arrested recently during a raid at Nite Lite on Kona Street. "I make my living while on my feet, not on my back."
Critics also accuse police of wasting taxpayer dollars during austere budget times to pursue charges that, even if proven, are only petty misdemeanors, no more serious than getting caught with a marijuana joint.
They also question why investigators spend hours in the bars even after gathering initial evidence of alleged violations.
The critics raise valid concerns.
Why, for instance, do officers at the raids take pictures of club employees and customers who are not accused of any crimes?
Why do police refuse dancers' requests to change into their regular attire so they won't be photographed in skimpy dance outfits?
Why is there a need to use heavy-handed arrest tactics for such minor offenses, especially given that the raids often occur during the busiest times at the clubs?
The answer, says Brent White, American Civil Liberties Union of Hawaii attorney, is to harass the businesses and those who frequent them.
It's all part of what seems to be an orchestrated campaign to shut the clubs down, White said.
"We should be concerned about the impropriety of having police officers going in and engaging in these behaviors," he said. "It's appalling."
Attorney Earle Partington, who represents dancers busted in a recent raid, agreed. "This quite frankly is Gestapo tactics," he said.
Nite Lite owner Tuyet Lisa Ly Chmiel, whose club was raided twice last month, said a fear of further raids has scared away most of her customers and employees, bringing her business close to financial meltdown.
Chmiel questions why police have to conduct raids during peak business periods to make arrests days or weeks after the alleged violations. Why don't they arrest the women at the time of the alleged offenses, she asked.
"The cops are killing my business," Chmiel said. "I understand they have a job to do. But it's the way they do it. They use power to put people down."
Sgt. Gary Sunada of the Honolulu Police Department defended his agency's actions.
The top priority for these undercover operations is to look for juveniles illegally working in the industry, Sunada said, and that priority shouldn't be overshadowed by budgetary issues. "What if that was your daughter in there?"
A secondary priority, Sunada said, is to enforce prostitution laws, and officers conduct investigations fairly, taking great care not to entrap anyone.
Sunada could not say how much the department spends on such investigations. But he defended the way the raids are conducted, saying sufficient numbers of officers are needed in case violence erupts, a possibility considering many club patrons are male and may be intoxicated.
The ski masks are needed so undercover officers' identifies aren't compromised and can continue other undercover work, Sunada said.
"To some, it looks Gestapoish," he said. "But it's not a matter of trying to do the macho thing. It's a matter of safety and economics."
Sunada said photos are taken of some customers because of a belief they may have done something illegal, and photos of employees not accused of a crime are taken as part of continuing investigations or for other reasons. "We don't just randomly take people's pictures."
As for not allowing dancers to change into regular attire for their photos, Sunada said that is done to help keep track of the suspects' identities, including their dance costumes.
Taking photos of dancers in revealing attire is totally inappropriate, said attorney William A. Harrison, who has handled about 30 to 40 prostitution cases. "It's very demeaning," he said.
Taking photos of employees and customers not accused of a crime also is inappropriate and raises questions about privacy violations, the attorneys say.
Many women charged with prostitution in these type of cases often enter a deferred plea of no contest, meaning the charges will be dismissed if they stay out of trouble for six months and pay compensation of roughly $125 to $300.
Those who do so usually don't want to risk the possibility of a conviction, even if they dispute what the police allege, attorneys say. If a case goes to a bench trial, it usually comes down to the woman's word against an officer's, and "typically who do you think the judge will believe?" Harrison asked.
One of the first Oahu cases prosecuted after the Richie decision involved undercover officers renting a private room at Golden Dolls Showgirls about two years ago for a supposed bachelor's party.
The officers spent roughly five hours in the room, drinking (nonalcoholic beverages were available) and watching one exotic dancer after another perform on a stage with the alleged bachelor.
Five hours of such duty.
It's a tough job, but somebody's gotta do it, right?
Star-Bulletin columnist Rob Perez writes on issues
and events affecting Hawaii. Fax 529-4750, or write to
Honolulu Star-Bulletin, 500 Ala Moana Blvd., No. 7-210,
Honolulu 96813. He can also be reached
by e-mail at: rperez@starbulletin.com.
