Cruising the Night Away  

The legislature is where money and power brings the very concept of representative democracy into serious disrepute. Late one afternoon, Senator Chupacabra scheduled a meeting with a conservative businessman and president of a commodities trading firm out of Salt Lake City named Ammon Lee, a Mormon elder. I was initially perplexed as to why my boss agreed to the meeting, but after an hour with the affable, sincere, and heartbroken Mr. Lee, I was glad he did. 

Lee told a tragic tale. “ My daughter was a churchgoing kindergarten teacher and mother of two from Vernal, Utah. She took a solo cruise to Alaska after her husband, a marine officer, died in Afghanistan. She left the boat for a shore visit in Seward and was never seen again.”

“I began a quest to discover my daughter’s whereabouts, and at a minimum determine what happened to her. Not only have the cruise line companies been vague and unhelpful, but they’ve also withheld evidence and forbade their employees from talking to me. After much effort, a lawsuit, and repeated inquiries from my congressman and US Senator’s office the ship’s surveillance tapes were finally turned over to me.”

“The tapes showed crew members disposing of my daughter’s belongings. It was clear that the industry was far more interested in protecting its carefully branded image of carefree fun than actually getting to the bottom of my daughter’s disappearance.”

“After reviewing the tapes, I took them to the FBI and then to the US Senate. When it became clear that the FBI would not help, I formed an international organization to help victims called the Cruise Industry Crime Victims Alliance. We lobbied Congress to no avail.”

“My research discovered numerous incidents similar in tragedy and scope to my  own. Underlying our frustrations was the industry’s legal position that they were under no obligation to investigate a crime, whether it be a disappearance, sexual assault, or robbery. Crew members were usually low-paid foreign nationals, often from the developing world. In numerous cases where the alleged assailant was an employee of the cruise line, they were often whisked off the boat and returned to their home country before statements could be taken and evidence gathered.” 

“Additionally, I discovered that the cruise ships are registered in foreign countries, which, under maritime law, makes criminal investigations the responsibility of the nation of the flag. It also allows for the companies to avoid paying any US taxes, despite utilizing up to twenty-one different American government agencies.”

It does make one think. “How many passengers setting foot aboard a luxury cruise liner at the Port of Los Angeles for a weekend party cruise to Ensenada have any clue that any dispute with the carrier, including murder and rape, will be adjudicated under Panamanian or Liberian law? In bringing my case and others before the FBI and Coast Guard, I was blocked by numerous ex-federal law enforcement officials now working for and protecting the industry!”

Somewhat skeptical that the state could step in and help where the federal government had failed, Chupacabra agreed to consider the matter if Lee could bring forward California victims, which he promised to do. 

The first to come forward was the family of an ex-South Vietnamese army Colonel from Orange County. His son, Nguyen and sister Crystal accompanied Mr. Lee to the office a week later and related to us their tragic story, alternately plaintively pleading with the Senator to help and holding back tears of rage at the events they described.

“After the fall of Saigon, my father spent five years in a North Vietnamese “re-education” camp and after his release, he fled in a leaky boat to Thailand. He spent five more years in a miserable refugee camp where he nearly starved and was regularly beaten. He finally made his way to the US to join us where we had been resettled.” 

“The entire family went on a long planned Caribbean cruise to celebrate my parents' fiftieth anniversary. After a party below deck, my dad and mom went for a midnight stroll in the fresh air and disappeared into thin air. When we realized the next morning that they had not returned to their stateroom, we reported them missing to ship security and were assured that they must be somewhere on the giant boat.” 

“Eight more hours passed as we steamed on schedule towards our next port of call before anything was reported to the Coast Guard!” 

“When I finally obtained the initial incident report during discovery two years after my parents’ disappearance, the document listed “likely suicide” under “cause of disappearance.” 

“I was appalled. I pointed out to them my father had endured war, a prison camp in which he was repeatedly tortured, and a deadly ride in a rickety boat followed by years in a refugee camp - and according to the industry, he had committed suicide? Was the entertainment and food that bad?” he scoffed, holding back tears.

The final straw for the Senator, which pushed us into doing something, anything, to bring, if nothing else, publicity to these tragedies, and overcome the money and influence of the industry, led to one of the stranger legislative battles I was ever to take part in. 

A contract lobbyist, whose clients represented a who's who of bad actors - payday loan companies, bail bondsmen, tobacco interests, slum lords, and chemical industry polluters, - came in with Ammon Lee and another woman the following week. The 

lobbyist, Courtney Brathwaite, had started at the Capitol on the Assembly payroll but graduated to a lucrative career representing all comers, particularly those in need of former Democratic staff to give credence to otherwise implausible arguments made tenable with copious amounts of campaign cash. Cool and professional, she brought to the office a client she was representing pro bono. 

The young woman, Celia Clarke, a friend of Ms. Brathwaite, was a tall striking blonde in her mid-20s, dressed professionally in a fashionable charcoal suit and white silk blouse. She was an accountant in San Francisco who had flown to Los Angeles with a friend before boarding a Baja cruise to Cabo at the Port of Long Beach. 

“This was my first cruise. I had just broken up with my boyfriend and needed a break. The booze was free and plentiful, and after several margaritas, one of which was probably spiked, I was a bit tipsy. A crew member offered to guide me to my room.” 

At this point Ms. Clarke’s composure broke. She began sobbing uncontrollably and began gasping for breath. “He forced his way inside, raped and sodomized me for two hours, and left me bleeding and hysterical on the bed. I reported the crime immediately and named the crew member responsible.”

Somewhat regaining composure, she continued. “The head of security on the ship took my statement. He was cold and suspicious. He even seated me on the very bed where the crime took place while questioning me! What he did not do was utilize a rape kit or call a doctor.”

“When the ship sailed back to Los Angeles, my friend demanded to know if the alleged assailant had been detained. We could not get an answer. When we reached port in LA and immediately reported the crime to LAPD, detectives hurried to the ship to make an arrest. Ship security informed the officers that they had no jurisdiction over the boat or crew, and that the “alleged” assailant had left the boat in Ensenada for a flight home to Manila due to a family emergency.” 

Chupacabra was appalled, as he should have been. While it would require federal law to address the problem in full, Mr. Lee and Ms. Brathwaite assured us that they had been down that path, and it was blocked. Despite the self-serving and blatantly false testimony provided by the industry before the Senate Commerce Committee in DC, these guys were so protected that federal legislation never even got a hearing. 

The bill proposed by Mr. Lee was actually quite simple: require every cruise ship entering California waters to have a licensed California law enforcement officer placed on the ship at the expense of the cruise line, to take statements, gather evidence, and accept crime reports from passengers. While less than perfect, at a minimum it would remove control from the cruise lines, who had made it quite clear that passenger safety came second to their public relations objectives. 

Brathwaite was engaged and lobbied the bill with vigor. This worked well while the bill moved through committee hearings in the Senate. District attorneys, sheriffs, and police chiefs came on board, as did victims’ rights groups. However, the bill came to a grinding halt in the Assembly when the cruise line industry hired a new contract lobbying firm that represented rank and file cops up and down the state, among other interests. 

Here, we came into direct conflict with the level of control police unions have over the system. Democrats liked having law enforcement in support to show they were serious about combating crime, and Republicans just naturally gravitated to a military occupation of communities of color. The stranger than fiction piece of this whole episode was that the lobbyist representing the Fraternal Order of Deputy Sheriffs and Rank and File Officers Union was none other than Courtney Brathwaite’s husband, William H. Parker! Parker, an unctuous if strikingly handsome dirtball, with the face of a CEO and the look of a small-town shyster - two things that are not exactly incongruous - took to the opposition like a crocodile in a pool of poodles, spreading perfidious lies wrapped in acrid-smelling pablum, with no concern for the trail of destruction left behind.

Senator Chupacabra invited Parker, named after LAPD's notoriously racist chief, to a meeting with Lee and Brathwaite. As it turned out, what they needed was a marriage counselor, not a senator, to negotiate a deal. 

Parker, smooth and seemingly affable, delivered his opposition letter personally to the office where Brathwaite and Lee were waiting for his arrival. Chupacabra glanced over the letter and handed it to me before addressing Parker, sitting upright, with an oily disingenuous smirk barely concealed on his matinee idol face.

“Mr. Parker, this letter barely passes the smell test. I fully understand you would prefer this issue be handled in Washington where your client has reform legislation bottled up in committee, but your denial that California has any interest in protecting its citizens would be laughable if it were not so offensive.”

“Senator, I assure you that the cruise industry takes this issue seriously, that is why my firm has been hired to protect its interests. However, placing an officer on board would violate the officers’ contracts and place them in danger.” 

I must admit, I had heard many absurd claims by lobbyists over the years, but this one was truly remarkable. I could not control myself. “What, your officers are afraid of being mauled by shuffleboard sticks? Assaulted with pool toys? Please!” Chupacabra gave me a look that said I needed to stay calm, but he was as appalled as I was.

The confounding part of this was that the officers' unions never officially opposed the bill. Ostensibly, Parker was only representing his cruise line client in this matter. The problem was that unless asked directly, Parker never let on that his police clients had taken no position. 

Over the next weeks, members and staff were falsely led to believe that the cops opposed, with all that could mean for a member’s re-election chances. Chupacabra was furious. 

He confronted Parker at a hearing the following week after being informed of Parker’s numerous half-truths and outright lies. “You have an obvious conflict,” he raged, cornering Parker outside the Senate chamber. 

“There are well paying jobs on the boats for cops working overtime. You are working against the interests of the many police unions that have supported us.”

“Senator,” Parker responded, maintaining his cool despite the tight quarters and the prying eyes of all those crowded into the narrow hallway. “I hope you are not questioning the integrity of the firm. We scrupulously keep the interests of our varying clients separate and would never imply that lobbying on behalf of one client would negatively impact another.”

With this statement, Courtney Brathwaite, who had just come up next to the Senator and I, let out a loud guffaw. Nearly spitting the words at her preternaturally calm husband, she shouted, “William H. Parker, you know that is bullshit! Just this weekend I heard you tell that little slimy dwarf of a partner of yours at the barbecue that the hopelessly naive Assembly members believed you were speaking for the cops when you opposed the bill!” 

It went on like this for weeks. Husband and wife would both appear at committee hearings, and in the process of lobbying for or against the bill they would hurl increasingly vile accusations at each other. It brought to mind the old Saturday Night Live dust-up satirizing Crossfire in which Jane Curtin would open with an impassioned plea for some liberal public policy, and Dan Ackroyd would respond with the infamous opening, “Jane, you ignorant slut!” 

While the bill brought temporary light to the subject, ultimately it proved unsuccessful, dying on the Assembly floor on the last night of session as Parker, with several retired cops in full dress regalia in tow, lobbied undecided members at the rail outside the chambers. 

After the final vote, Lee and I, depressed at the loss, and lamenting the absurdity of the process as well as the dearth of ethics among contract lobbyists, went to drown our sorrows at a popular watering hole across the street from the Capitol. Sitting in a corner booth, having already downed two bourbons, then a third, a double was brought to the table. When Mr. Lee, a teetotaling Mormon elder indicated that we had not ordered the round, the cocktail waitress motioned to a table across the bar, where Brathwaite, Parker, and Parker’s pint-sized partner were enjoying an end-of-session bottle of expensive wine. Disgusted, I handed the drink to a passing young staff aide, called a cab, and headed disconsolately out the door past the celebrating throng.