April 16, 2004

She thought it very nice of the mayor to call and tell her the news first. Helen Childs wanted to make sure he knew this.

Her eyes grow sad and mist a little when asked about the 10-month suspension without pay, the penalty Denver police Officer James Turney was handed for shooting her son to death last July 5.

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She is standing just inside the front door of her Thrill Place home. She puts her hand on her chest, sighs and looks some 5 feet to the right, to the spot on the front walk where her developmentally disabled teenage boy fell.

"Let's just say," the 38- year-old woman finally said, "I feel some comfort that they at least acknowledged this man did something wrong."

"They" would be Manager of Safety Al LaCabe, who on Thursday disregarded Police Chief Gerry Whitman's 20-day suspension recommendation, and ordered the 10-month suspension, adding that Turney may only work a desk upon his return.

No, it isn't the outright firing of the officer many in Denver had demanded, but what thinking people will know is that 10 months without pay, then a desk job upon return, is more than anything not the insult to sensibility and justice the less-than-three-weeks time off recommendation was.

"I never wanted revenge, I never wanted to hurt this man," Helen Childs said softly. "He came here and murdered my son, whom I'll never see again. And that still hurts so much. All I ever wanted was simple justice."

She invites a visitor to sit with her and Ashley, her 16-year-old daughter.

She knows people still ask why she called Denver police to her home if Paul, with his developmental disabilities, was not a danger. "I understand the question," she said. "I really do.

"But Paul loved the police. This went back years. They were his idols. They would always come and calm him down. If we didn't call them when he wanted to leave the house, he would."

A couple of years ago, Paul met a girl he called his girlfriend, who lived in Boulder. And he would disappear, Helen Childs recalled. She remembers the first time Boulder police called. "We have your son," they told her.

She told them she had no car, but that she would find someone with one, who would come get Paul.

Don't bother, they told her; just give them her address. They would bring Paul home.

She lost count of how many times Boulder police brought Paul home, the officers never once complaining. Denver, Littleton, Northglenn. They gave Paul rides, too.

He loved riding in the police cars, Ashley said. It was his way of getting attention. Almost all of the officers knew of his disability, she said. They liked the kid. Maybe some of it was pity.

Ashley Childs recalled July 3, two days before Paul was killed. He'd somehow gotten to Samaritan House downtown. He called the police. They took him home.

Later that night, police came again when Paul tried to leave. Ashley was wrestling with Paul at the door and his shirt ripped clean off just as the cops arrived.

The officers laughed with her as they put their arms around him and led him back into the house.

"Later, the officers even helped me fix the deadbolt," Helen Childs said.

So it seemed almost a routine that Ashley would dial 911 on July 5.

He wanted to go out, and he picked up a kitchen knife when his mother and sister told him that he couldn't.

Ashley remembers how the officers arrived that day, and ordered everyone out of the house, how she brushed past Paul as she exited and he ran to the door, holding the knife, to greet the officers.

Yet these officers had their guns drawn. "They never did that before," she said. "I mean, we had done this so many times before."

She remembers the confused look on Paul's face.

She remembers, too, the moments before the shots rang out, how she shouted at the officers not to do it, that Paul was "just a baby."

Helen Childs still wonders if James Turney remembers the first time they met. Paul had collided on his bicycle with a motorist two Thanksgivings ago, badly injuring his ankle.

James Turney was the responding officer. She had a house filled with guests, Helen Childs recalled. Everyone was cooking and having a good time.

"He came to the house, and he smelled alcohol on my breath," Helen Childs said. "And he was so arrogant, so rude. We were on Holly Street then. And he told me if I went to the hospital to see my son, he would personally see to it I was arrested.

"I sent my sister."

TV cameras and a crowd of journalists have gathered outside. Helen Childs rises from the sofa to speak with them. More than the 10 months suspension, she said, as she opened the door, she truly appreciates the permanent desk duty assignment.

"At least that way, he can't go out and do this again," she said.

Bill Johnson's column appears Wednesday, Friday and Saturday. Call him at 303 892-2763 or e-mail him at johnsonw@RockyMountainNews.com

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