Behind the Badge 

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BURYING THE HATCHET
For Russo, the job offer to Babka was essentially altruistic. “Did we hire him to run against Winder? No,” he says. “It was a nice thing to do. It was an opportunity for me to show there are good guys out here. If there was a longstanding animosity as he proffers, why would I offer him a safe place to land?”

Rather than planning a run against Winder, Babka says, he’d simply bought into Russo’s pitch of helping the new department grow. Along with teaching DARE to middle schools, he would handle the department’s public relations, on a $60,000 salary, half of what he’d earned at the county.

“I thought—unfortunately I’m the eternal optimist—that they were sincere about using my talents to help them with their new department,” Babka says. He “bought in,” he says, to the idea that “we can do this better than the county.”

Babka says that though he was warned that Russo had a long memory when it came to perceived slights, he was treated well, almost like chief-of-police-in-waiting, the assumption being he would apply for a chief’s position when one became vacant.

“I was under the impression we’d buried the hatchet,” he says.

DRAWING A LINE
While Russo’s police history lay in narcotics, once his police department was open for business in the sleepy bedroom community of Cottonwood Heights, DUIs became a primary focus, largely because, Babka says, that was one of the Salt Lake County Sheriff’s Office’s worst statistics when it had served Cottonwood Heights.

So, Babka says, CHPD used tactics “that were like shooting fish in a barrel” to make “no crime into crime.”

And the DUI-related productivity justified the CHPD’s existence through the revenue generated by the steady flow of citations into the justice courts. “Local government at its best, or its worst?” Babka says. “I don’t know.”

Russo says his commitment to DUI enforcement stems from having had to notify a family that their daughter had been killed in a DUI when he was a young officer. He makes no apologies for being “absolute death on DUIs,” and while it does generate more revenue than citations, he notes that the state “takes the lion’s share.”

A year into Babka’s employment with CHPD, Babka, Russo, Cottonwood Heights Mayor Kelvyn Cullimore and former city manager Leanne Stillman met for lunch at the Market Street Grill in Cottonwood Heights. Babka says they encouraged him to run against Winder and told him that they would help any way they could.

Russo recalls the lunch differently. “Mr. Babka was offered our endorsement for his candidacy. The purpose of that meeting was to draw a bright line cautioning Babka about not using any city resources, including the police vehicle to attend political functions. He was warned not to campaign on duty and told he would be accountable for his work hours unless he took a leave of absence.”

Babka says he wasn’t warned of any such issues, but that he “knew that and did it appropriately.” He announced his candidacy on Jan. 30, 2010, in his CHPD uniform, telling a small crowd that he viewed the sheriff’s office as “a higher calling” and one that had to be treated with “reverence.”

During the Days of ’47 Parade, he walked in front of the Cottonwood Heights float, “waving, campaigning at its best. Winder was up in his car, way ahead of me.”

RUNNING OUT OF GAS
But tensions grew between Babka and Russo, Babka says, over what Russo saw as Babka’s failure to campaign aggressively. Babka says that Russo complained that “I wasn’t negative enough, going for Winder’s jugular.”

That wasn’t his approach, he says. “I was going to win on merit. And I didn’t.”

Russo recalls asking Babka why he wasn’t putting out mailers and running TV ads. Babka told him, Russo says, that he didn’t need to; he felt that his name recognition was enough and told Russo, simply, “I’m Beau Babka.”

But come election day, Babka lost for the third time. “I had delegates, I had the party, I had 3,000 Facebook friends, I had popularity, but that’s not what gets you elected. I didn’t have voters.”

A few days after the election, Babka says, his wife called him, distraught. They were late on three house payments. Campaign expenses had drained their bank accounts.

Babka says he’d spent thousands on gas on the campaign, so spending $20 here, $20 there, using his police credit card, would work out. “I was pissed, that was the mindset.”

According to the information filed by the District Attorney’s Office, Russo’s assistant chief had audited the fleet fuel bill and found two days in mid-December that Babka had purchased gas totaling $48.17 for two family vehicles “using his city-issued Chevron card and unique PIN.”

PERFECT OPPORTUNITY
Jan. 3, 2011, the day that Sim Gill was sworn in as the new District Attorney, Babka says, Russo called him into his office and told him he’d known about Babka’s gas thefts for a while.

“As smart as you are, you really make stupid decisions,” Babka says Russo told him before placing him on administrative leave. Babka says he pleaded with Russo for an opportunity to pay the money back.

Russo, he says, was smiling. “I hadn’t seen him smile like that for a long time,” Babka says. Russo asked Babka to hand over his gun, and he was driven home.

Babka was convinced it would be handled internally, that he could explain himself to the CHPD staff investigating the issue—or to an independent police agency brought in to handle the matter—and suffer, at worst, dismissal.

But the days rolled by and he heard nothing.

“These [events] were both professionally and emotionally, very difficult for me,” says Russo. “The internal investigation was conducted by our staff, but never concluded, as Mr. Babka immediately resigned.”

But Babka says he didn’t resign until several days after he was arrested, and that no one asked for his side of the story. Russo, he says, referred the case to the DA’s Office, “but they just screened it. Russo already had his mind made up.

“I don’t want to diminish what happened, but I really believe they found, they created an opportunity to get rid of someone who had so much value prior,” Babka says. “I guess the totality of the circumstances was not bought into play.”

While Babka awaited his fate, he walked, ran, hiked—anything to take his mind off of the sword above his head.

Several months after his plea deal, the 12-person board at Peace Officers Training and Standards removed his police certification for four years.

Those weeks were tough on the Babka family, eldest son Duke says. “I’d be driving home at night curious if I’d come back to my father dead or alive. He was at such a low, so broken.”

“THIS IS HOME”
The first 18 months after his plea deal, Babka sold scooters. After that job ended, he spent six months waiting for a six-figure security consultant position that never materialized.

Through connections at his local wardhouse, Babka got the jobs at Nabisco and Walmart. He also made pizzas and washed dishes at The Canyon Inn, whose owner, Jim Stojack, has said many times that CHPD has a vendetta against his establishment and targets his customers for DUIs. Russo has repeatedly rejected Stojack’s assertion.

In November 2013, Babka’s divorce became final. He found work at a friend’s manufacturing business, the owner also lending him a truck to drive. Another friend provided Babka with a small trailer to sleep in.

“This is home,” he says, as he opens the door to the trailer, parked across from an irrigation canal where he runs in the early morning. The trailer has two small seats, a gas stove and a raised platform for a bed, but has no running water. “I try not to stay here a lot,” preferring to sleep in the truck, he says.

In the years since Babka lost his career, the inter-agency strife and politicking between the county and the cities has continued unabated. During an attempt to incorporate Millcreek as a city a couple of years ago, there was much behind-the-scenes discussion of whether CHPD intended to provide the township with police services.

In early 2014, rumors swirled that Russo planned to run against Winder—March 15 is the deadline for candidates to file for the 2014 county sheriff election. Cottonwood Heights Mayor Cullimore says that’s not going to happen. An internal candidate has emerged for the sheriff’s position in the form of Lt. Jake Petersen of Unified Police Department.

Such developments are little more than white noise for Babka. His sights are set elsewhere. He’s training to compete in the summer Huntsman World Senior Games in St. George, focusing on field events such as the discus. Whereas once he ran for office as a way to compete, now his ambitions are more athletic. “I compete with myself now.”

While his political campaigns, he says, were the best experiences of his life, after three unsuccessful races, “Dude, somebody’s telling me something.” He’s silent for a moment. “I wanted to change the world,” he says. “And I know I can’t.”