LA’s Sheriff Says He’s Banned Deputy Gangs. After My Son’s Death, How Can We Trust Him?

After decades of controversy, lawsuits, and misconduct allegations, the Los Angeles Sheriff’s Department (LASD) officially banned employees from joining or participating in deputy gangs on October 18. LASD had long denied that its violent, tattooed police gangs even existed, let alone ought to be regulated. But last month, Sheriff Robert Luna, who promised to eradicate the groups when running for office, announced that the department was finally banning gang participation in mid-October. 

However, after my son died under Luna’s leadership, why would families trust his word? 

On February 1, 2023, I received the tragic news that my son, Stanley T Wilson Jr., had died in LASD custody. Stanley was a student leader, track star, and standout football player at Stanford University. He went on to play in the NFL for the Detroit Lions. After retiring from the NFL, Stanley struggled with mental illness, substance use disorder, and untreated trauma from being molested by an uncle who babysat him as a child. He spent the final months of his life in LASD custody. Stanley was only 40 years old when he died. I learned from his post-mortem exam that he had suffered from chronic traumatic encephalopathy, or CTE.

From the moment I was informed of Stanley’s death, the sheriff’s department made it increasingly difficult to gain clarity about his death. In fact, LASD still has not included Stanley’s death in its in-custody deaths tracker.

Before Stanley died, a court ordered LASD to transfer him to the Department of State Hospitals no later than December 5, 2022, to receive proper mental health treatment. LASD failed to adhere to the order. In January 2023, LASD drafted paperwork for Stanley to be transferred to Metro State Hospital the next day. Stanley passed away that morning while he was being transferred. He died before his trial even began.

Both Metro State Hospital and LASD deny having custody of Stanley at the time of his death. Representatives from LASD told The Independent that Metropolitan State Hospital had custody of Stanley when he died. Yet, a document from the Metro State Hospital Police Department stated that Stanley had not been a patient or in the custody of the hospital at the time of his death. CCTV footage would provide crucial evidence in his death investigation. 

So, in June last year, under the California Public Records Act, my attorney requested all surveillance footage of Stanley on the day he died. Our request included specific areas where Stanley was located, including where he allegedly fell from a chair. After no response from LASD and the county’s repeated delays, we kept pushing to get the requested information.

From this point on, we received several conflicting accounts. At first, we were told there was no footage of Stanley’s last day in custody. Then, in September of last year, LASD informed my attorney that Stanley’s surveillance footage would be available to us, but the viewing was canceled at the last minute because “the server was down.”

In February, we scheduled an in-person meeting to view footage from the hours leading up to Stanley’s death with LASD attorneys. This time, they claimed footage of Stanley after 9:09 AM was unavailable due to either a lack of mounted recording devices or inoperable cameras. Coincidentally, Stanley died around 10:00 a.m.

Nearly three months later, in a Zoom meeting, LASD changed its story again. Cameras were, in fact, operable throughout the jail. But the footage was incomplete. They showed us video from a camera perched above a garage of a shadowy figure in the distance that was said to be Stanley at about 9:11 a.m. We were informed that additional clips were unavailable because the department records over footage after seven months—even though we requested the videos almost a year prior.

The last hour of my son’s life remains shrouded in darkness due to the inexplicable absence of footage. This glaring gap in surveillance video not only denies me, as a grieving parent, the closure I desperately seek but also underscores broader systemic failures within LASD. 

Stanley was nonviolent and deemed by a judge and post-mortem experts to simply need mental healthcare. He deserved the care that our Sheriff Luna claims to offer. Instead, he died under mysterious circumstances. And, despite the department’s $4 billion budget, properly functioning CCTV cameras are a bare minimum the department fails to meet. 

Most families whose loved ones die in LASD custody don’t have access to legal counsel, ties to an NFL team, and a background in policy like I do. I hope that video of the final hour of Stanley’s life can be identified and reviewed by homicide units, internal affairs, and critical incident and in-custody death review boards, as well as given to my legal team, family, and me. 

Until this happens, I doubt that true accountability within LASD began last week based on Luna’s words alone.

ICYMI—From The Appeal

Texas state legislators subpoenaed Robert Roberson one day before the state was set to kill him for allegedly shaking his child to death. The legal move delayed Thursday’s execution. Lawmakers are fighting to let Roberson testify before the state House despite objections from the attorney general and governor. The state’s parole board recommended against clemency even though Roberson’s crime likely did not occur.

D.C.’s police union wants to capitalize on a scandal to eliminate successful violence interruption programs. The arrest of D.C. Councilmember Trayon White for allegedly taking bribes on behalf of two violence interruption contractors has unfairly made some critics question the programs altogether.