James Sexton endures weeks of solitary confinement in federal prison, as prosecutors finally gear up to take Lee Baca to trial. Baca’s lawyers claim he has Alzheimer’s Disease. It’s late 2016, and the recent presidential race has made the FBI unpopular in liberal Los Angeles. Sexton testifies for the government and is released early, a humbled man, to begin rebuilding his life. The jury deadlocks at Baca’s trial, only one wants to convict him, but prosecutor Brandon Fox presents a more fleshed-out case and wins a conviction in March 2017. A judge gives Baca a three-year sentence. In his late 70s, he goes to prison. Anthony Brown, in prison for life, wins a $1 million settlement against the county, while Leah Marx is promoted to the FBI’s behavioral science unit. The conviction of Sheriff Lee Baca marked a rare prosecution of a lawman at his level and closed a turbulent chapter in Los Angeles history. What began with a smuggled phone ended with the county’s top law-enforcement offi...
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Prosecutor Brandon Fox
We later learned about the obsession that both Mr. Baca and Mr. Tanaka had.
James Sexton
Isolation is just really one of the worst things that you can do to a person. I wouldn't wish that on my worst enemy.
Prosecutor Brandon Fox
Mr. Baco was a popular figure. He definitely had some cults of personality. This was an existential threat to the sheriff's department, but it was of their own making because of what they did.
James Sexton
I was under shotgun escort. Like, it was the first time that somebody like I was around a gun that I knew could be used against me. It was the first time that I was around people that were doing life without parole. Like as an inmate, I'd been around lifers and stuff like that, but that's an entirely different setting. That's like going to the zoo and getting in the cage with the tiger. They know who you are. You're a cop.
Narrator Christopher Goffard
James Sexton, the son of a Southern sheriff, had come to Los Angeles looking to make a name for himself as a cop and had won a spot in an elite jail intelligence unit. Now, at age 29, his law enforcement career was over. In a particularly humiliating and final way, a federal judge had sentenced him to 18 months in federal prison for blocking the FBI's probe into the LA county jails, saying Sexton had lacked the courage, quote, to stand up when he knew things were wrong. When he turned himself in, Sexton was shuttled between different jails. In one of them, a black jail guard gave him the autobiography of Malcolm X.
James Sexton
It was somebody clearly telling me something, right? This is what happened. You're experiencing what marginalized communities are experiencing in America every day. And that person actually told me why they did it, because as I was leaving, they were like, look, you're just here for a cup of coffee. You're actually. Your prison and incarceration experience is nothing like the people that you're around. He even told me, he's like, I'm mad at you because people are going to want to hear what, how you survived. You're really seeing the front row seat of human tragedy. And I'd never been on the other side of the door. Just, oh, the reality that that door doesn't open, how loud it is. The lights don't turn off in isolation. You don't even get to flush your own toilet. At this point. I knew I wasn't going to feel sorry for myself. So I made a calendar out of a com. You know, you can't control anything in there. And so I'd start to break the teeth out of this comb. I'm bald Right. So I don't need a comb. So that became my, you know, that was my victory for the day. I would fight that tooth of that comb out. And I started with the bigger ones first because just mentally I was like, each day will get easier, right, because it won't be so thick.
Narrator Christopher Goffard
In the conspiracy to hide an informant from the Feds, Sexton had been at the bottom of the chain of command. Federal prosecutors had worked their way up methodically through the ranks of the Sheriff's department and they had won a conviction against the former number two, Paul Tanaka. Now, in late 2016, they had their eyes on number one. They were gearing up to finally try Lee baca, the former four term LA Sheriff. He was 74 years old. His lawyers had him examined and a doctor diagnosed him with Alzheimer's disease. Part of his defense would be that even as he ran the largest sheriff's department in the country, his mind had been deteriorating. From the Los Angeles Times. This is Pandora's box, the fall of LA's sheriff. I'm Christopher Goffard. This is our sixth and conclusion, the Other side of the Door.
Prosecutor Brandon Fox
Almost everything they did was on tape. So we had from the beginning Deputy Smith, who was pounding the table saying that he wanted to know everything about the Feds. That was a powerful recording that we had where from the beginning it's set up that way.
Narrator Christopher Goffard
I'm talking to Brandon Fox, who was the chief prosecutor in the case against former LA Sheriff Lee Baca. He had to prove that jailers had shuttled inmate informant Anthony Brown between cells under fake names to hide him from the feds, not, as the defense claimed, to protect him.
Prosecutor Brandon Fox
We later learned about the obsession that both Mr. Baca and Mr. Tanaka had with the FBI and U.S. attorney's investigation into the conduct going on at the jails.
Narrator Christopher Goffard
The prosecutor who had transferred to LA from Chicago learned that Baca's name had wide resonance in Los Angele Angeles County. Many people loved him.
Prosecutor Brandon Fox
He definitely had some cults of personality.
Narrator Christopher Goffard
Fox became aware of another problem. This was December 2016, weeks after Donald Trump won the presidency. And many blamed FBI Director James Comey for tilting the election by reopening the investigation into Hillary Clinton's emails.
Prosecutor Brandon Fox
As we were conducting jury selection, it was much harder to find people who trusted the FBI than I've ever had in any other trial, and not even close. I mean, there were several jurors that we had to dismiss who otherwise might have been good for us because they didn't trust the FBI, because they felt like the FBI had Changed the election, the course of the election.
Narrator Christopher Goffard
During trial, Baca's supporters wore lapel pins in the shape of a badge. Prosecutors told jurors that Baca had been the heartbeat of the conspiracy and had ignored signs of corruption and inmate abuse at his jails. Baca's defense was that he had been in the dark about what his subordinates were doing to foil the feds. To paint a picture of how the inmate informant was made to disappear in the jails, prosecutors turned to the low ranking jailer who'd actually executed the plan, James Sexton. He had agreed to testify for the government. He was taken from prison to the LA federal courthouse. He had lost 30 or 40 pounds during his months in lockup. He took the stand in his prison scrubs to describe how he had manipulated the antiquated jail computer system to hide the informant under a series of fake names. One thing prosecutors left out of their case was one of Baca's big falsehoods. His claim during a long evasive interview that he had not known his sergeants were targeting FBI agent Liam Marks to introduce that charge would have allowed Baca to claim his deteriorating mental state. Explained the false remark.
Prosecutor Brandon Fox
The reason why we had done that was he was putting out this defense that he had a memory lapse because he claimed that he had Alzheimer's dementia and we did not want that to be part of the case.
Narrator Christopher Goffard
It was a risk. It meant the jurors would not hear about Alzheimer's, but neither would they get to hear Baca's incriminating interview with the federal prosecutor. They did hear, thanks to the defense team, about Baca's efforts at jail reform. They heard that Baca had launched a civilian watchdog group to monitor his agency. They heard some of Baca's prominent friends, including two former LA county district attorneys, testify to his law abiding reputation. They heard from the father of a slain deputy who said Baca had consoled him and had given him his home phone number. These character witnesses described a long career of public service and integrity. As the jury panel was deliberating, one of the alternate jurors approached the defendant to ask for his autograph. Hardly a good sign for the government. Eleven of the 12 jurors thought Baca was not guilty. A single man on the jury held out for guilt. It was a deadlock. One of the jurors who voted not guilty was seen in tears. Brandon Fox believed the free floating distrust of the FBI, coupled with local admiration for Baca, tilted the jury against prosecution.
Prosecutor Brandon Fox
I did interview a couple of jurors afterward, there were some people who gave Mr. Baca way more benefit of the doubt because of who he was.
Narrator Christopher Goffard
As the feds prepared to retry Baca, James Sexton was enduring prison in an isolation unit. Because of his specialized training in jails and in jail intelligence, he says the Bureau of Prisons deemed him a risk. On top of that, he was a government witness, both factors that would have made him a potential target in the general population.
James Sexton
It was absolutely horrible. I wouldn't wish that on my worst enemy. Isolation is just really one of the worst things that you can do to a person.
Narrator Christopher Goffard
Whenever I met with Sexton, he brought along his service dog. He said it was a consequence of that experience.
James Sexton
It's really corrosive mentally, especially if you have an active mind. I beat myself up. I evaluated every relationship that I cognitively could recall from, you know, four years old. You know, I mean, you get into crib memories almost, and you really start to beat yourself up, and there's no release to that. And it got worse day by day, week by week. You can really feel the. The oppressiveness of time.
Narrator Christopher Goffard
After a while, hallucinations began.
James Sexton
Those were starting to happen month four and five, and that's based on sensory deprivation at that point. I've seen nothing but the colors or, you know, orange, white, black, gray. You've I no blue sky, no natural light unless you're in a transport or no watches, no clocks. You have to have 85 unencumbered cubic feet, so enough to stand up and do a push up in. You see nothing else other than the bricks and the steel. So they really start to make you feel like you're Hannibal Lecter. Very limited contact with people. You start to become disoriented from time. That's the first thing that happens. You start to lose touch with how long an hour is, how long a day is. Yeah. Yeah, that. That was scary. You become very numb to things that you normally wouldn't be numb to. Flight, sound, gate, smacking, people fighting, yelling. You become incredibly sensitive to shit that irritates you. Squeaky wheel on a cart, right? Whatever it may be. And like, so you start, this dystopia starts to happen, and then you can't manage your emotions is the next thing because you feel so detached and you got nothing to anchor to. You start to have these really high highs and really low lows and nobody gives a shit. I remember there'd be days where I would just roll. And you can't show this weakness either, because there's still a support Network that you have to be a part of. I remember rolling my bunk up and just screaming into it because I hurt.
Narrator Christopher Goffard
Sexton agreed to testify against Lee Baca. At his retrial, he was flown back to LA on Conair.
James Sexton
I'm fresh off of Conair. I've been down for four or five months. I'm £150 soaking wet. I'm stressed. I'm stinky, you know, I'm scraggly.
Narrator Christopher Goffard
Someone handed him a burrito, which he ate hungrily. He was ready for anything besides prison food. For the first time since his sentencing, he saw prosecutor Brandon Fox.
James Sexton
Brandon was like, you know, James, I. I see a lot of maturity in you. And I put the burrito down and I go, hell, Brandon, at this time, I'm about to turn 30. I was like, that's just called maturity, man. You didn't have to send me to prison to have me grow up a little bit.
Narrator Christopher Goffard
In January 2017, after four months in prison, the last of which he'd spent in solitary confinement, Sexton appeared before Judge Percy Anderson. I stand before you as a broken man, he said To Fox. Sexton looked like a changed man. No longer the cocky 25 year old with a chip on his shoulder, but a man humbled by his experience. At Fox's request, the judge reduced his sentence to time served. Sexton would be allowed to go home after serving four and a half months of his 18 month sentence. His wife Keely picked him up.
James Sexton
I get in the car with Keely, she's like, I don't know how to tell you this, but I gotta run an errand. And I was like, okay. We pull up to this FedEx. Mind you, I've been in prison for, you know, six months. And she's like, do you want to sit in the car? I was like, no, I don't want to sit in the car. But I did the weirdest thing. I walked in and the door opened at FedEx, right? And I played with the opening door for like three minutes, I swear to God. Just because the doors were open and they don't rack and roll like the sliders do. Sliders go. Yeah. You're at a low point in your life when you're grateful that a door open.
Narrator Christopher Goffard
Federal prosecutors had finally taken Lee Baca to trial, but only managed to persuade one of the 12 jurors that he was guilty. Revamping their case, they would include the charge that Baca had knowingly lied to the Feds. This would allow jurors to hear him on tape.
Prosecutor Brandon Fox
Were you aware that anybody with an LASD was conducting surveillance of Leo Marks at night outside of her home.
James Sexton
No.
Narrator Christopher Goffard
Baca's defense team fought to put a geriatrician on the stand to talk about his Alzheimer's diagnosis, a way of explaining away his false statements. The judge blocked the testimony, hamstringing the defense.
Prosecutor Brandon Fox
You've listened to the recording. He's not forgetful. It's not an Alzheimer's issue. This is an issue of him affirmatively lying to us. At no point in time were briefed that she would be the name suspect in a felony complaint, correct?
James Sexton
That's correct.
Prosecutor Brandon Fox
In talking to experts in the field, people don't just make up facts when they have Alzheimer's. They will just be forgetful. And he was lying to us about what was happening. So we felt like that was an important part of the trial. And then we, we sprinkled his voice throughout the trial. Now the jury's hearing his voice and so he's more connected to the incident.
Narrator Christopher Goffard
I wanted to talk to Baca's defense attorney, Nathan Hockman, who is now the District Attorney of Los Angeles county. But he did not respond to requests. When Baca went on trial again in March 2017, Liberal Los Angeles felt differently about FBI boss Jim Comey, who was probing possible ties between Russia and Donald Trump's presidential campaign. So the second time they were a popular institution in Los Angeles.
Prosecutor Brandon Fox
Yes, yes. And that's where our jury came from. So that's all that mattered to me.
Narrator Christopher Goffard
Once again, James Sexton testified for the prosecution, but this time as a free man in civilian clothes. Another forceful prosecution witness was former Assistant Sheriff Cecil Rambo, who said he told Baca that it was a crime to obstruct an FBI investigation and had bluntly warned him, don't f with the feds. As part of a more fleshed out case, prosecutors called convicted high ranking co conspirators to the stand. One was former Captain Tom Kerry, who said Baca had personally approved the plan to send sergeants to Leah Marks house. By Carey's damning account, his advice to us was just not to put handcuffs on her. Another conspirator, former Lt. Greg Thompson, said Baca had compared his duel with the feds to a chess match. Brandon Fox ran with the image portraying the aging lawman as a craven king who hid behind subordinates.
Prosecutor Brandon Fox
So I actually took out kids king from my chessboard at home and I showed it to the jury. And at the conclusion of making this argument, instead of saying checkmate or anything like that, the jury's right in front of me. I'm standing at the lectern. I make this argument and then I quietly turned it over, which is a sign that the game is over and that the king has been defeated.
Narrator Christopher Goffard
This time. In March 2017, jurors convicted Lee Baca. He was the 10th and highest ranking participant in the obstruction scheme known as Pandora's Box. The big question now was what to do with a former lawman in his mid-70s and in mental decline. His lawyer pleaded with the judge, saying Baca's Alzheimer's was its own terrible punishment, a sentence that will leave him a mere shell of his former self and one that will rob him of the memories of his life. Hundreds of letters of support poured in for Lee Baca. One came from former governor Arnold Schwarzenegger. People praised his character, his integrity, his good works for inmates and at risk youth. Under federal guidelines, Baca's crimes called for about four years in prison, but prosecutors asked for a sentence of two, citing his age and severely impaired state. Instead, U.S. district Judge Percy Anderson gave him three years. He excoriated Baca for abusing the public trust and embarrassing, quote, the thousands of men and women who put their lives on the line every day. Baca remained free, living at home in San Marino while the courts weighed his appeals. He kept to a schedule. He went on morning runs. He went to lunches. Finally, after three years of failed appeals, he was ordered to report to federal prison. He was now 77. An LA Times editorial questioned the wisdom of locking him up. Taxpayers would cover his medical care in prison and there was small chance he would do harm again. Baca turned himself in at the Federal Correctional Institution in Latoona, a low security facility outside El Paso. Details of Baca's prison experience are available in Karen Richardson's friendly biography of him. In it, we learn that Baca's wife, Carol, worried that he would not be able to remember how to call home, so she made sure to give her cell phone to a prison guard. We learn that during COVID 19, the prison went on lockdown and Baca was not able to see her for 16 months. We learn that she sensed his memory worsening and his confusion growing. During their daily 15 minute phone calls, he stuck to his workout regimen and lockup, doing rounds of squats and push ups. His zeal for order and desire to be of service did not desert him. He reorganized the prison library and renovated the prison pond and cleared brush from the grounds and, according to the book, inspired other inmates by his example. He made friends. He gave advice. He told people to make use of their time. He went home in October 2021. In July 2024, the 82 year old Baca wandered away from home in San Marino and could not be found. He turned up six miles away at an El Monte Denny's a few hours later in a badly confused condition. His name and phone number were on his medical bracelet and police arrived to take him home. After prosecuting the case against the LA Sheriff's commanders, Brandon Fox went into private practice. I asked him about the relative culpability of Sheriff's department leaders. He said he blamed former undersheriff Paul Tanaka more than he did Baca. He described Baca as a mix of good and bad.
Prosecutor Brandon Fox
When you talk about someone of that age, someone who's served the public for so long and someone who does have or did apparently have a serious medical issue, it's harder to prosecute those people.
Narrator Christopher Goffard
You felt some pity for him at some point for those reasons?
Prosecutor Brandon Fox
Empathy toward him? I'm not sure. Pity? Yeah. I wouldn't say pity.
Narrator Christopher Goffard
Why is this case important? Why does it matter?
Prosecutor Brandon Fox
I argued before the juries, probably just about every jury in these cases, that no man is above the law and no one is beneath it. No case exemplifies it more than this one because you've got the victims that are people who are inmates confined in an area. Some of them have great mental illness and society's written them off in large part. If we could give the highest ranking a law enforcement officer in Los Angeles county of obstruction of justice and false statements, then you can believe that many juries will also do the same.
Narrator Christopher Goffard
To me, one of the puzzles of the case has always been what was Lee Baca thinking? Did he think sending his sergeants to confront an FBI agent at her home would scare the whole agency off? Did he actually believe the federal government, after years of effort, would just shrug and walk away? Fox tells me Baca's endgame seemed to be that he wanted to be part of the jailhouse investigation. So that when it came time to announce jailers were being indicted for excessive force, Baca could stand there at the podium and make the case that he had participated in the effort. In the end, Baca's wounds were mostly self inflicted.
Prosecutor Brandon Fox
If you look at everything that we did and all the convictions we had, you take away the obstruction case, we bring a handful of civil rights cases, which Baca probably would have been reelected if that's the only thing that happened. He probably would have served another term as sheriff and all the big Prosecutions we did was because of how they reacted. This was an existential threat to the Sheriff's Department, but it was of their own making because of what they did.
Narrator Christopher Goffard
One of the ironies is that Anthony Brown, the career criminal and inmate informant who was made to vanish for 18 days, would never have been a good witness.
James Sexton
You want me to talk? I need a couple things. What do you need? Yeah, I can accommodate him.
Prosecutor Brandon Fox
Cup of coffee?
James Sexton
Cheeseburger?
Narrator Christopher Goffard
Give me a cigarette and a soda. Prosecutors never called him to the stand, never knowing the defense was likely to eviscerate him, possibly tainting their whole case. What about the cell phone that so enraged the sheriff and provoked his catastrophic decisions? In the end, Brown managed to get nothing of evidentiary value on it.
Prosecutor Brandon Fox
Nothing of great significance at all to anybody. There was nothing other than the fact that he downloaded music.
Narrator Christopher Goffard
Anthony Brown is in state prison, serving his 400 plus years from prison. He filed suit against the county, claiming the Sheriff's Department had effectively kidnapped him during those 18 days. And the LA Board of Supervisors approved a $1 million payout to settle the claim. In the end, 22 members of the Sheriff's Department were convicted as a result of the probe initiated by Special Agent Leah Marks, who had barely been out of her rookie year with the FBI when she got a letter from an inmate alleging brutality at Men's Central Jail and decided to pursue it. The two agents who worked the case with her, Jason Dalton and David Dolley, were also new to the Bureau. I asked Brandon Fox if that might have played a role in how it all unfolded.
Prosecutor Brandon Fox
The fact that Special Agent Marks got that letter and decided to act on it is amazing that it turned into what it did because most agents would have not paid a second to it and it would have just said, it's not worth it, my time. A veteran agent of many years who's looking at retirement does not do anything with that letter. You look at all the other times that these allegations had been raised and nothing had happened over the decades before that.
Narrator Christopher Goffard
I asked Leah Marks whether she thought older agents might have handled the tip differently.
FBI Agent Leah Marks
Coming in with fresh eyes and just being that go getter because I was new. I do think that that helped kind of dive into something that maybe others wouldn't have. We don't know how many more civil rights cases we could have brought because the department came in and disrupted our investigation. They tried to intentionally stop what we were doing. And so sadly, we don't know where it would have gone. And that's a little frustrating, she said.
Narrator Christopher Goffard
That by the time it was over, there were 13 trials. From start to finish, the case took up eight years of her life. She was ready to move on. She worked for a while at the Bureau's Behavioral Analysis Unit, the unit that studies serial killers, and is now supervising a corruption civil rights squad. I asked her how the case has affected her career inside the FBI.
FBI Agent Leah Marks
What happened became more of a. I don't want to say folklore, but, oh, you're the agent that almost got arrested. So it was. For some people, it became less of a focus on the case and more about what actually kind of transpired at my apartment.
James Sexton
In its own weird way, this was great for me and my life. In my maturity and my humility, I'm probably one of the rare people that would tell you that prison reformed me.
Narrator Christopher Goffard
This is James Sexton.
James Sexton
I was not the easiest person to deal with in those days. Being an asshole is not illegal. And I'm paying the crime. I'm paying for that every day. I pay for that and I accept that.
Narrator Christopher Goffard
Did the prosecutions have any permanent effect on the culture or structure of the LA County Sheriff's Department? That's hard to say. Voters pick the Sheriff directly. In 2018, the combative and controversial Alex Villanueva won the job. Mike Giannocco, an attorney who monitored the Sheriff's department for 13 years, compared Baca's tenure to Villanueva's. He said Baca did more for civil rights and progressive policing than he's credited with. And that, quote, villanueva did more damage to that department in the four years he was there than Baca did in 15 years. Exponentially, in my view. End quote. In August, the current Sheriff, Robert Luna, announced what he called a milestone six months of compliance with a court settlement that called for better jail conditions. That includes improvements in mental health services and reduced wait times for housing inmates after they arrive. The Sheriff's Department still has a policy of putting rookie deputies to work in the jails, which the department says trains them to better interact with the public when they get on patrol. A department spokesperson told me that uses of force are trending downward, that there are now more than 4,000 cameras in the jails and that jailers will be getting body worn cameras soon. But this month, California Attorney General Rob Bonta said the state Department of Justice will sue the LA Sheriff's Department over what he called a humanitarian crisis inside the jail system. He noted dilapidated, overcrowded conditions, plus more than 200 in custody deaths over the last four years. 40% were homicides, suicides or overdoses. The heartbeat of the jail operation remains the sprawling and antiquated Men's Central Jail in downtown, now more than 60 years old. Twice the County Board of Supervisors has voted to close it down. The Sheriff's Department has cited the difficulty of finding an alternative considering the enormous volume of inmates in a county of 10 million people. Pandora's box the fall of LA's sheriff was written and reported by me, your host, Christopher Goffard for the Los Angeles Times. Mix and sound design by Emily Jankowski. Our editor is Steve Clow. Thanks to LA Times Executive Editor Terry Tang, President and COO Chris Argenteri, and LA Times Studios President Anna Magzanian. Special thanks to LA Times colleagues past and present who have reported on the Sheriff's Department and its scandals, including Robert Federechi, Jack Leonard, Joel Rubin, Cindy Chang, Ben Poston, Helene Chekmetyan, Connor Sheets and Carrie Blakener.
Rebuild SoCal Partnership Narrator
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James Sexton
It's very emotional as you can imagine, but our guys and girls will take the time to sift through the ashes with them.
Rebuild SoCal Partnership Narrator
One by one, thousands of homes will be rebuilt.
James Sexton
We are skilled union carpenters and we're ready to go to work. The operating engineers Local 12 has made a commitment to the community here and we're going to be here for the long haul.
Rebuild SoCal Partnership Narrator
Rebuild SoCal partnership is following the journey of the families, communities and small businesses as they come back to life. Stories of unbearable tragedy and unlimited hope. Tune in to the podcast Rebuilding Los Angeles for stories you will not forget.
Podcast by L.A. Times Studios | Episode Date: October 14, 2025
Host: Christopher Goffard
In this gripping episode, reporter Christopher Goffard concludes his investigative series "Pandora’s Box: The Fall of LA’s Sheriff" by examining the downfall of Lee Baca, former LA County Sheriff, and the cascading consequences of obstructed justice in the LA jail system. Through firsthand accounts, trial details, and interviews with key players including former jailer James Sexton and chief prosecutor Brandon Fox, the episode exposes systemic corruption, the heavy toll of solitary confinement, and debates lasting impacts on law enforcement culture in Los Angeles.
Brandon Fox describes Lee Baca and deputy Paul Tanaka’s obsession with the FBI investigation, calling their choices an “existential threat” to their own department.
James Sexton recounts the impact of isolation and betrayal as a law enforcement insider-turned-prisoner, relating his psychological decline and methods for surviving solitary confinement.
Juror Perception & Jury Selection Challenges: Due to national events (James Comey’s controversial FBI role in the 2016 election), prosecutors struggled to find jurors who trusted the FBI, impacting initial trial outcomes.
Efforts to hide Brown: Prosecutors detail how jailers (including Sexton) shuttled informant Anthony Brown between cells under aliases, undermining federal oversight under the pretense of "protection".
Sexton’s transformation: From ambitious cop to federal inmate, his humiliation and punishment serve as a cautionary reflection on systemic accountability.
First trial (Dec 2016): Baca’s defense leans on his Alzheimer's diagnosis; widespread skepticism of the FBI among jurors leads to a hung jury (11 of 12 for acquittal).
Retrial (March 2017): Prosecutors change tack, including Baca’s false statements, and the defense is blocked from presenting medical evidence. Testimonies from high-ranking co-conspirators and vivid closing arguments help secure a conviction.
James Sexton's ordeal: He paints a harrowing picture of psychological decay and coping rituals in isolation, such as breaking teeth off a comb to mark the passage of time.
Emergence and Reunion: Released after four and a half months, Sexton describes the emotional numbness and small victories, like marveling at an automatic door at FedEx.
Lasting Trauma: Sexton's need for a service dog and admission that “prison reformed me,” capturing the profound personal change wrought by his ordeal.
Conviction and Sentencing: After his conviction, Baca is sentenced to three years (less than guidelines, considering age and illness). Despite declining health and public support, he ultimately serves time until his release in 2021.
Final Years and Public Sentiment: Details from Karen Richardson’s biography reveal Baca’s routine in prison, support from wife Carol, and struggles with memory loss. His disappearance in 2024 highlights his decline.
Jail Culture Post-Baca: Debate on whether the prosecutions had any permanent effect. Subsequent Sheriff Alex Villanueva is described as more damaging; current reforms are noted, though conditions remain dire.
Pandora’s Box: The investigation led to convictions of 22 LASD members, but many problems persist. The case’s lesson: “No man is above the law and no one is beneath it.”
Role of Young FBI Agents & What Might Have Been: Leah Marks expresses pride and frustration – the probe's success owed to rookie zeal, but institutional resistance may have buried even more cases.
James Sexton on isolation (00:08, 09:19):
“Isolation is just really one of the worst things that you can do to a person. I wouldn't wish that on my worst enemy.”
On the impact of solitude and survival tactics (03:11):
“Each day will get easier, right, because it won't be so thick.” (About breaking teeth off a comb as a daily marker.)
Brandon Fox on prosecution difficulty (22:43):
“When you talk about someone of that age, someone who's served the public for so long and … has a serious medical issue, it's harder to prosecute those people.”
On accountability (23:13):
“No man is above the law and no one is beneath it. No case exemplifies it more than this one ...”
Chess piece metaphor in the retrial (18:11):
“…the jury's right in front of me. I’m standing at the lectern. I make this argument and then I quietly turned it over [the king piece], which is a sign that the game is over and that the king has been defeated.”
Sexton’s post-prison humility (28:44):
“Being an asshole is not illegal. And I'm paying the crime. I'm paying for that every day. I pay for that and I accept that.”
This episode offers a rare, unflinching look at the intersection of power, accountability, and vulnerability inside one of America's largest law enforcement agencies. Goffard’s reporting, paired with candid interviews, exposes the complex morality and lasting scars revealed by the fall of Lee Baca and those caught in his orbit. The story is a testament to the weight of individual choices, the cost of institutional denial, and the urgent, ongoing struggle for reform in the criminal justice system.