Held to answer

For the first time since he murdered a police officer 21 years ago, Sidney Dean Porter might know what it’s like to gasp for life.

He was supposed to be released from prison in June, courtesy of the Oregon Board of Parole and Post-Prison Supervision who voted unanimously earlier this year to free him.

But other information about Porter later surfaced and led to protests. Gov. John Kitzhaber asked the board to reconsider.

What went through Porter’s mind after counting down his days to freedom, only to be told – no. Not yet, anyway.

By comparison, Officer Frank Ward had to know in the last minutes of his conscious life that he was losing a fight with a much larger and stronger opponent, a man with a history of domestic violence. Did Ward think about his wife, his kids or just simply “Oh, God!”

Nobody knows.

The post-mortem details still cause pain to people who cared about Officer Ward: the blood and hair on the large chunk of wood Porter used to batter him; the zipper marks across Ward’s face from his jacket that Porter yanked up, constricting the officer and straitjacketing his arms.

The last time Porter was before the parole board he said Officer Ward had fallen and hit his head on a piece of wood. That went unchallenged because Grant County District Attorney Ryan Joslin – who had seen so many parole hearings set and reset – missed the real meeting in February and lost a chance to offer his side.

So Porter was back before the Parole Board this week in a room at the Oregon State Correctional Institute for another “exit interview.”

Three parole board members sit on one side of a long table. On the other side sits Porter, his attorney and two men testifying against his release: DA Joslin and Ben Ward, brother of the man murdered by Porter.

Behind them sit about 40 people in the audience, generally divided into two camps – those for the victim and those for the inmate.

The inmate has a voice; the victim doesn’t. Officer Ward will never speak again. Porter can say anything he wants. With that single advantage, he can cast himself as a victim.

When he enters the room, Porter nods and smiles to his side of the audience. He stands about 6-foot-5, has a firm jaw line, an easy-going and unwrinkled face, clear blue eyes behind glasses, a trim white mustache and short white-grey hair. He looks fit and healthy.

Members of his family sitting behind him are overweight and out of shape, with sagging faces and bags under their eyes. In particular, his sister looks tormented. She blows her nose and grips the hand of the man sitting next to her. Finally she starts crying.

At the table, Porter scans his immediate vicinity, looking left and right, up and down. He exhibits no nervousness. There’s something about him that exudes confidence.

During the hearing, Porter admits that he has not read the report opposing his release by DA Joslin.

Board member Candace Wheeler asks him why not, and Porter rambles. At one point, he says something about having to work. It’s unconvincing.

Later, his attorney, Andy Simrin will hold forth, and it’s obvious why Porter didn’t bother to read the DA’s report: The parole board is now on shaky legal ground.

In April, the three then-board members (Wallace, Kristin Winges-Yanez and Amber Kaatz) voted unanimously to grant Porter parole. Among the issues that elicited public protests was Porter’s lack of remorse, demonstrated by him blaming Ward’s death on falling and hitting his head on a piece of wood.

“Is that still your memory?” Winges-Yanez asks him now.

Porter: “I was so drunk. … What I remember is what I said. … Some of this is the first time I have heard this. … We hit that wood stove hard, Mr. Ward and I.”

Winges: “I’m confused. You dove at him?”

Porter: “I felt something (pepper spray) hitting my face … . Being drunk isn’t an excuse, and I will never use it as an excuse, but it is a fact. … I didn’t react until I was sprayed in the face.”

Winges-Yanez asked about a prison pen-pal advertisement Porter had placed about a year ago, which was taken off the Internet shortly before the February hearing. In the ad, Porter is looking for a woman who is “sexy, twisted, perverted and/or bisexual and describes himself,  “Age 51 and look 41 … been down 19 years … one year to go to get out of this cage …  Shoe size 13 – for you gals who know how guys are put together … nickname ‘Free the Dean.’”

Porter now says it was all a practical joke.

“Boys are boys …we find ways to set somebody up and embarrass them with a joke … if you lose a bet or something … the stuff we do in there is harmless.”

Winges shakes her head: “You get how that looks, right?”

Board member Wheeler, who is a former social worker and the keeper of the Kleenex box – she nudged it towards Porter when he was squeezing out a tear – tried to help him out. She reminded Porter of his rough upbringing and loss of a basketball scholarship.

Wheeler: “You didn’t have the best childhood. … Yours wasn’t the best house to hang out in … I can see the regret … losing your goal to play basketball. … Was that how problems were solved? You didn’t identify needs? You just hit somebody?”

Porter: “That was the lifestyle … that was how things got settled. … Your decision to give me another chance won’t be a wrong one … I will make you people look good … This is the Department of Corrections. The state spends a lot of money on this place, and they did a damn good job on me … just give me a chance. Give me a chance in the free world … God bless all of you.”

Among the prison programs that Porter repeatedly cited was Alcoholics Anonymous, but board member Sid Thompson (who replaced Kaatz) noted that alcohol is much more readily available outside prison. How would Porter handle that?

Porter insisted that he follows AA’s 12-Step Program and would continue to do so.

“What are the 12 steps?” Thompson asked.

Porter could only come up with four.

Then his attorney, Andy Simrin took over, and Porter retired his attempt at remorse. Simrin spoke forcefully and convincingly – he barely needed a microphone.

He zeroed in on the key issue: The parole board already voted unanimously to parole Porter.

“You found that Mr. Porter satisfied the burden of proof … that he is likely to be rehabilitated,” he reminded them.

After citing several state and federal court cases, Simrin told the board they had violated Porter’s 14th Amendment right to due process when they acquiesced to Kitzhaber’s request to reconsider his parole.

They cannot rescind his parole unless they prove that Porter has committed misconduct in prison; has a severe emotional disturbance or that Porter’s parole plans are not acceptable. (He has lined up a place to live and work.)

Simrin asked for Porter’s immediate release.

The board will rule at a later date.

When Porter got up to be escorted back to prison, he looked at Ward’s brother and said in a barely audible voice, “I’m sorry for what happened.”

Before he landed in prison, Porter was a bully who used his size to beat up on his wife and anyone who got in his way.

One of the saddest aspects of this case is found in the search warrant filed April 8,1992, after Ward died:

Porter’s neighbor, Mark Jeffrey Crites, called 911 after hearing a woman screaming, “Stay away from me, I didn’t do it … .”

Officer Ward responded and spoke to Crites, who later told detectives that Ward appeared hesitant about going over to the Porter residence. Nevertheless, the officer went when he heard the woman screaming.

Crites said he watched out his window as Ward knocked several times and announce several times, “Police.”

Crites left his view for a few seconds. When he returned, Ward was inside the house, and Crites heard, “I’m a police officer. … Get off her.”

He heard what sounded like wrestling and called 911 to report an officer needing assistance.

Ward went into that house to help someone even though he was justifiably scared.

Whatever his shoe size, he was a braver man than Porter.

– Pamela Fitzsimmons