‘Constitutional sheriff’ makes his own rules in Oregon county

By Les Zaitz, The Oregonian, Portland, Ore. (TNS)

Tuesday, Aug. 23, 2016 | 2 a.m.

The sheriff's office in rural Grant County consists of the sheriff, an undersheriff, two deputies and a small cadre of jail staff.

Then there's the army of volunteers.

In the past six years, Sheriff Glenn Palmer has appointed 65 people as special deputies — more than any sheriff in the state. The force includes at least two men who have broken the law.

They have ID cards and special access to government land that's off-limits to most. Some have badges. But none seems to have ever reported a crime. Many appear to have no training.

The size and secrecy of the unusual crew underscores much about the county's top law enforcement officer: He pushes the boundaries of what elected sheriffs typically do.

Over 16 years, Palmer has used his position in ways big and small to further a personal agenda — from allowing his own needs to trump emergencies to directing his patrol staff to ignore violations of laws governing private gun sales. He has drawn a fervent following by repeatedly challenging federal authority over forestlands.

Palmer, 54, might have remained an obscure local sheriff but for the takeover of the Malheur National Wildlife Refuge in January.

He publicly sympathized with the armed militants and became a heroic figure among the activists and their supporters. His advocacy burnished his reputation as a "constitutional sheriff" — one of a small band of law officers who believe the Constitution makes them supreme and the federal government subservient.

"You are not kicking us off our public lands," he declared in a 2012 speech. "No more. It's got to stop."

Such populism won Palmer re-election three times, but the sheriff has now reached a crossroads.

He's the target of a state criminal investigation for allegedly tampering with public records. He faces a separate administrative review stemming from 11 complaints lodged with the state agency that licenses police officers.

Residents concerned about his actions formed a group to stand against militia incursions in Grant County. They believe Palmer has made the county a welcome roost for self-styled patriots.

As controversy has enveloped him, Palmer stopped talking to The Oregonian/OregonLive and other media. He also declined to respond to written questions.

Yet his core backers remain in his corner. One noted in a social media post that every time a critic speaks, "Glenn gets another 100 votes."

Hometown boy

Palmer's upbringing and his early performance as a police officer give no hint that he would become a far right agent of change.

He was born into government service in the eastern Oregon county, one of the most sparsely populated in the state. His father was an engineer for the Malheur National Forest and his mother was a police dispatcher. Both were volunteer firefighters. Palmer was still in high school when he got his first government job — John Day dog catcher.

As with many growing up in Grant County, Palmer developed a passion for the national forest, which is both workplace and playground. He became a bow hunter, snowmobiler and avid fisherman.

Palmer's application shows only one private sector job — a four-month stint piling brush in 1984. He returned to the public payroll in January 1985 as a county jailer and went on to become a John Day patrolman five years later.

He got good marks there for solving cases, taking on extra duty and handling Missy, the narcotics dog. Merit raises came steadily. Palmer's demeanor cropped up as an issue in reviews, though.

"Glenn is overcoming a tendency to take some things personal such as attorneys and trials," Police Chief James "Swede" Larson wrote in 1991. "It has been explained that it is very hard being a policeman in the town where you grew up."

Palmer ran for sheriff in 2000 — encouraged by a Forest Service law enforcement officer — and won by default when the incumbent died a week before the election.

On election night, Palmer slipped into the near-empty John Day Police Department offices. He dropped off his badge and a resignation letter for his chief to find the next morning.

He wouldn't take office for weeks, but Palmer quit suddenly even though he was scheduled to work the next night.

Boom and bust

In some ways, Palmer's evolution reflects Grant County's rugged individualist history. The county sprang up from one of Oregon's biggest gold rushes and is nearly 10 times the size of Multnomah County, long sustained by timber and cattle. The government owns 57 percent of the county land.

In recent years, declining timber harvests on federal land shuttered mills, leaving many to take lower-paying jobs or move on. Federal government policies created bitterness over the loss of work and that anger colored local politics.

Locals took to the polls in 2002, two years after Palmer had been elected. Grant County voters banned United Nations operations in the county out of fear that blue-helmeted forces would take away guns and private property. At the same time, voters approved taking over federal forests and natural resources. Nothing came of either act.

In that political swirl, Palmer found a mentor.

Richard Mack, a former sheriff in Arizona, traveled the country encouraging sheriffs to apply the Constitution on their own. Mack pressed sheriffs to challenge federal jurisdiction and to assume they're the ultimate authority in their counties.

Mack saw Palmer as a defender of the American way — "a simple man, very dedicated to his job, a good family man, a courageous man — somebody who's willing, who has the courage to stand for what's right," he said in a recent interview.

Mack held training sessions for Palmer and his deputies in 2001, he said. He returned to Grant County in 2011, conducting a rally that turned into a celebration of Palmer. He later picked Palmer as the first "Sheriff of the Year" for the newly formed Constitutional Sheriffs and Peace Officers Association.

A federal target

The U.S. Forest Service quickly bore the brunt of Palmer's newfound calling. He zeroed in on the federal agency as the reason for the economic peril of Grant County, citing restrictions on grazing, mining and logging and the closing of roads.

Local leaders and former law enforcement officers who worked with Palmer were puzzled by the sheriff's turn against the area's largest employer.

"Where in the Constitution does it say the sheriff is responsible for natural resources?" said Jim McNellis, who served as his first undersheriff.

One explanation offered by some longtime residents is that Palmer allied himself with conservative elements that wanted to restore heavier logging on the Malheur National Forest. He pressed their point, and they provided his political base.

In speeches, Palmer laid out his explanation for why the Forest Service was bad for Grant County.

He told a California audience in 2011 that he "started seeing the excessive use of force and people getting guns pointed at them by federal officers for wood permit violations, road closure violations." He later said at least eight people complained to him about Forest Service agents.

"They had Forest Service police officers pointing guns at 'em," he said in 2012. "It seemed like every car stop was at gunpoint."

Yet The Oregonian/OregonLive found no record of any confrontations.

Todd McKinley, Palmer's second-in-command as undersheriff from 2008 to 2015, said the sheriff didn't share reports or brief the staff on such allegations. A former deputy who recently left the agency said he routinely patrolled on forestland in Grant County and took no such complaints or heard of them from Palmer. The district attorney at the time said Palmer didn't forward evidence of misconduct by Forest Service officers.

The Forest Service has no record of complaints from Palmer. "He has not provided a specific incident where a Forest Service (officer) had a weapon brandished in a stop with the public," said Steve Beverlin, forest supervisor on the Malheur National Forest.

Palmer said he no longer had documents about the episodes. Those files, he wrote in an email, were "destroyed pursuant to state law."

In 2011, Palmer ended a contract with the Forest Service to patrol its campgrounds and forest roads. As a result, the Forest Service transferred $32,000 to a neighboring sheriff. Palmer told county officials that he would make up the lost revenue by handing out more concealed handgun licenses.

In ending the contract, Palmer wrote the forest supervisor that he had yet to hear the Forest Service explain its authority under the Constitution to patrol public lands. The Forest Service, in his view, had no authority outside its headquarters building in John Day.

Document: Sheriff Glenn Palmer's letter

He cited Article I, Section 8 of the Constitution — the same provision Ammon Bundy would use to justify taking over the wildlife refuge. The clause empowers Congress to establish a seat of government and to acquire land for forts and other military installations — language some have read to limit federal ownership of land.

Special deputy force

Since 2010, Palmer has appointed 65 volunteer deputies with certificates giving them permission "to do and perform any act which I might perform as sheriff."

No other sheriff in the state has anywhere near that number, if they deputize volunteers at all. Neighboring Harney County, for example, has one, Baker County has two, and Umatilla County has none.

Palmer hasn't publicly explained the need for those volunteers, leaving some in the community fearing that he has created a secret police force.

In 2014, for instance, he appointed 20 civilians as "public lands deputies." Palmer said in response to a public records request that he had no applications, background reports, or training records for any of them. None of the special deputies responded to written questions about their training and duties.

The public lands deputies can't carry firearms or enforce the law but they're tasked with reporting suspicious activity, just as citizens across the country do in crime prevention programs. Asked for reports from the volunteers, the sheriff's office produced eight pages of handwritten journal entries from one of them, reporting no crimes and noting on occasion "saw no one," "no rigs" and "some cars," as well as "good berry picking" and "having a good time."

Other special deputies are assigned to search and rescue or the jail. Palmer named a new batch of 11 last September, deputizing them as a natural resources committee.

His appointees include:

• Jay E. Cargnilia, 51, a Canyon City carpenter and a deputy since 2014, who was caught by a Forest Service officer last October driving in a closed national forest road, according to his citation. Palmer sent a text message to alert the Forest Service officer Cargnilia was a special deputy. Carniglia later pleaded guilty to violating the closure order.

• J. David Traylor, 71, a woodcrafter from Mount Vernon identified by state police in 2000 as an "anti-government extremist." According to federal documents, Traylor was in the national forest without his wood permit, taking larger logs than allowed while illegally using heavy equipment. Traylor pleaded guilty to the permit violation. He has a history of paying county property taxes years late. In January, he met with two occupation leaders who have since pleaded guilty.

 • James T. Sproul, 63, a Canyon City real estate agent. Palmer appointed him in 2014 as a public lands deputy and in 2015 as a member of the natural resources committee. County records show the IRS has a $35,879 lien against him for unpaid income taxes dating to 2006. He was at the meeting with Traylor and the occupation leaders. Sproul was leader of a recent failed effort to recall a county commissioner who has clashed with Palmer.

• Judy A. Kerr, 73, of Canyon City, a retired Forest Service employee. Palmer appointed her in 2014 as a public lands deputy and in 2015 as a member of the natural resources committee. Kerr publicly supported release for Michael Emry, a self-described "embedded reporter" with an Idaho militia group during the wildlife refuge occupation, after he was arrested in Grant County and accused of possessing a stolen .50-caliber machine gun.

• Salvatore D. Casuccio, 48, a Gresham flooring contractor. He was appointed in 2010 to process concealed handgun licenses so applicants don't have to travel to Grant County. By law, sheriffs can issue licenses only to residents of their county or to those living in adjoining states who show a need.

In March, Palmer appointed Roy R. Peterson, 63, of Monument, as a special deputy for search missions. Palmer's county cellphone records dating back to November show he talked to Peterson more than anyone. Peterson didn't respond to telephone messages or written questions.

In 2013, Palmer investigated a rural fire district's complaint that Peterson misappropriated state fire money and equipment. He concluded it was a civil matter and closed his criminal investigation.

The state police thought otherwise, opening their own case that led to Peterson's indictment late that year on theft, possession of a stolen vehicle and other charges. His trial is scheduled to start Monday.

Peterson was under indictment when Palmer deputized him. To rebut community criticism, Palmer took to Facebook, saying he enlisted Peterson to help rescue three men trapped by snow in late February in a remote cabin.

"One of them was recovering from major back surgery and was unable to walk the 4-5 miles out to the main road," Palmer wrote.

A dispatcher reached the sheriff after one of the trapped men called 911. Palmer said he'd organize a rescue — but not right away. "You know what? I'm going to finish eating my sandwich and I'll give this guy a call," Palmer said.

The sheriff didn't launch the mission until the next day and said he deputized Peterson so he would be covered by insurance. County officials said, though, that county volunteers are automatically covered.

Palmer said in a Facebook post that volunteers such as Peterson "expect nothing but a thank you."

Peterson got more. George Martin of Keno, one of the trapped men, said he paid Palmer's special deputy $400 for clearing snow so he and the others could leave. Martin said the sheriff walked away as the two men negotiated.

Rural policing

Palmer has developed a pattern over the years of following his own rules — for himself and for his department.

He handles calls in the small office, but can be hard to reach when emergencies crop up and he doesn't like to take calls once he's off duty in the evening, say police dispatchers who talked only if they weren't identified.

Document: Police dispatch log

Last month, Palmer's undersheriff tried to reach him to help with the search for a 7-year-old boy missing in a remote forest east of Prairie City. The sheriff had been out fishing that day. A rescuer reached him about 9 p.m., according to the dispatch log. "He talked to the sheriff about his 80 fish he is cleaning out," the log noted.

Roughly 90 minutes after that call, Palmer went "in service" to head to the scene. A state trooper found the boy, scratched and bruised, the next morning.

Last August, the sheriff's support of gun rights led him to direct his staff not to enforce Oregon's new law expanding background checks to private gun sales.

"We shall take no part in investigating, responding to, expending resources or tax payer funds in making issue with disarming of law abiding citizens when those citizens are exercising their 4th Amendment right to be secure in their personal effects and 2nd Amendment right to bear arms," he wrote in the order.

He earlier worked with the Oregon Firearms Federation and its foundation to raise $11,000 to buy a portable fingerprinting machine to ease processing of concealed handgun licenses.

A California gun rights group noted that with the new equipment, Palmer could travel to California gun shows to issue Oregon concealed handgun licenses, though it's not clear if Palmer ever did that. He stopped handling out-of-county gun applications without explanation last year.

Palmer elected to ignore other laws, according to former deputies. He doesn't want tickets issued for cellphone use by motorists or for seat belt violations, they say.

He worked to broaden his authority in other areas. His natural resources committee repeatedly met without public notice to write what they called the Grant County Public Lands Natural Resources Plan. Palmer said he had no record of applications or background checks for these deputies.

The sheriff's plan said any conflict with federal mandates would go in favor of Grant County and called for increased logging and grazing on public land. It required public land agencies to "coordinate" with the sheriff if they wanted new wilderness areas or higher fees, injecting him in matters typically left to county commissioners.

In September 2015, he took his plan to county commissioners, who had no inkling it was in the works. Palmer said he advanced the plan because the Forest Service was impeding search missions with berms and gates on closed forest roads.

"I've had a heckuva time getting out to do my job," Palmer told the commissioners. "I don't get a response" when calling for help opening a gate, he said. Palmer told The Oregonian/OregonLive he had no documents regarding hampered searches.

The Forest Service said that in 2014 it identified a forest official accessible around-the-clock to help and contacted Palmer twice to meet about the search and rescues, but didn't hear back from him.

When commissioners rejected Palmer's plan, he pursued it anyway. On Oct. 9, he wrote Forest Service officials to announce his intention to "coordinate" forest planning with them.