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Ready for a night that's nothing short of iconic. Salt N Pepa and TLC are heading your way for the It's Iconic tour, their landmark co headlining tour with special guest En Vogue. Believe it or not, this is the first time all three of these legendary groups have toured together. And I mean legendary. It's gonna be packed with decades of R and B and hip hop hits, so don't miss your chance to experience these icons. Grab your tickets today.
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Hey Portlandia fans, Kerry Brownstein and Fred Armisen here.
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The dream of the 90s is alive in podcast form.
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We're launching Podlandia AO Rewatch our brand new podcast where we revisit every episode of Portlandia together, breaking down sketches, going deep on our iconic characters, and pulling back the curtain on how it all got made.
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And we'll also be joined by the people who helped bring it all to life, guest stars, collaborators and friends including director Jonathan Krisel, the mayor himself, Kyle McLaughlin, legendary musician Amy Mann, and many more.
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Kyle is going for it. Here you fully improvised, not just words, but a song.
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Well, I thought you were all going to write a song.
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I remember you thinking that. Listen to Podlandia AO rewatch on the iHeartRadio app, Apple Podcasts or wherever you get your podcasts.
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High interest debt is one of the toughest opponents you'll face unless you power up with a Sofi personal loan. A Sofi personal loan could repackage your bad debt into one low fixed rate monthly payment. It's even got super speed since you could get the funds as soon as the same day you sign. Visit sofi.compower to learn more. That's sofi.com p o w E R Loans originated by SOFI bank and a member FDIC terms and conditions apply and MLS 696891. A quick reminder, all episodes are available now with a subscription. To subscribe, go to True Crime Clubhouse on Apple podcasts. It's just $2.99 a month, half the price of a cafe latte. Please follow us on Instagram, TikTok and YouTubeBITMEDIAFM.
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Previously on Bad Cops. An elite unit of plainclothes police officers has gone rogue in the city of Baltimore. They're called the Gun Trace Task Force and their leader is Sergeant Wayne Jenkins. These cops have also been stealing money and drugs, planting evidence and framing people.
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I can't do this no more, y'. All. It's either we get it or we don't, or we come close to something.
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The FBI have been on their tail for months using secret wiretaps to build their case against the squad.
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So I know we could get something.
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But finally the officers are arrested and after an explosive trial, seven cops are sentenced to lengthy stretches in federal prison. Judge said the scandal has done lasting damage to the police force and eroded public trust. The case is over, but the question remains, was this a one off or a symptom of something deeper? A rot that runs right through the Baltimore Police Department. I'm Jessica Lussenhop and this is Bad cops from the BBC World Service Part 7. The golden boy over the last three years I've written letters to all the former officers of the Gun Trace Task Force who are now sitting in federal prison. I was hoping they'd tell me their story right from the start of their careers. I wanted to understand the transformation from swearing an oath to serve and protect to becoming thieves and fabulists who made a lot of money putting illegal guns and drugs back on the streets. I wanted to understand the machine that is corruption. How does it take a fresh faced rookie into its gears and spit out a dirty copy? I wrote to Jamel Ram, Mamadou Gondo, Maurice Ward, Evodio Hendricks and Daniel Hersel. A few of them wrote back, but none of them agreed to an interview. I also wrote a number of times to Wayne Jenkins, but he never responded. Since starting his 25 year sentence, he's not spoken publicly.
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Hi, Ryan Reynolds here for Mint Mobile. Are you looking for a beach read this summer? May I suggest your big wireless bill? It's got suspense, mystery, a slightly flat emotional arc and a shocking twist where you realize you've been overpaying the entire time. Fortunately though, Mint's story is better. Every plan $15 a month even unlimited. That's it. Happy ending. Zero tears. Give it a try@mintmobile.com Switch upfront payment
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of $45 for three months, $90 for six months or $180 for a 12 month plan. Required $15 per month equivalent taxes and fees extra initial plan term only greater than 50 gigabytes. May slow when network is busy.
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See terms Ready for a night that's nothing short of iconic. Salt N Pepa and TLC are heading your way for the It's Iconic tour, their landmark co headlining tour. Believe it or not, this is the first time all three of these legendary groups have toured together. And I mean legendary. It's gonna be packed with decades of R and B and hip hop hits. So don't miss your chance to experience these icons. Grab your tickets today.
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This is Chelsea Handler from Dear Chelsea. Every week the News gets worse, the world gets crazier, and Yamanika is here to tell whoever's responsible, you're the problem.
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If you come over here to play games, I' ma check you. Okay? If you do some S in the news that don't sound good, I'mma play you.
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Join Yamanika Saunders as she breaks down the week's most problematic stories on her new podcast. You're the Problem with Yamaneika.
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Do you know I just found out who Sydney Sweeney was.
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New episodes, weekly every Wednesday as part of my new network, the Dear Chelsea Network.
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If he got a bunch of women, then I should have a bunch of men do better or do less so I don't have to do so much.
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So join Yamaneika each episode as she answers one question. Who's the problem?
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I'm Yamanika, and I'm out. Listen to youo're the Problem with yamaneika on the iHeartRadio app, Apple podcast, or wherever you get your podcasts.
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Just as I was wrapping up this podcast, I wrote to him one last time. And I'll be honest, the last thing I expected was this.
D
You have a prepaid call. You will not be charged for this call. This call is from Wayne Jenkins, an
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inmate at a federal prison.
D
This call is being recorded and is subject to monitoring.
C
Hang up.
D
To decline the call or to accept, dial 5 now.
B
Hello?
D
Hello, Jessica?
B
Yes, this is Jessica.
D
Hi, man, this is Wayne.
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Hi, how are you?
D
I'm hanging in there. How are you?
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I'm doing all right. So I have to admit, it was crazy to hear this voice so recognizable from the secret FBI recordings and wiretaps talking to me. Weeks before this, I'd gotten a strange email from a man named Stephen Page. He claimed his group, Rose's legal project, was representing a number of high profile prisoners, among them, El Chapo, the infamous Mexican drug lord. At first, I thought this was some kind of Hollywood agent. Page told me he's also now representing Wayne Jenkins. It turns out until recently, he was Jenkins cellmate. He's what they call a jailhouse lawyer. And since being freed, he's been working to get a sentence reduction for Jenkins. Part of that includes a media strategy. When Page first made contact, I was wary. I felt like I didn't completely understand the agenda. But at the same time, I was hoping that whatever Wayne Jenkins might say could peel back another layer on the corruption in the Baltimore police. The plan was for Jenkins to call me from one of the communal prison phones. I put aside a whole day for this, it was an uneasy wait. And when he finally called, I was trying my best to hide the nervousness in my voice. First of all, I have to confess I'm astonished that we're talking at all. I don't know that I ever thought this would happen. But I guess I wanted to ask you, you know, is there anything that you kind of want to just say right off the bat?
D
Right off the. Right off the bat. I. We wasn't living lavishly. I lived modest. We wasn't enriching ourselves. I have no money in the bank when I got arrested, not a dime. And they said we were enriching ourselves and making hundreds of thousands, possibly millions of dollars. And that was so untrue.
B
The first thing Jenkins wanted to talk about was money. He didn't want anyone to think he'd been living the high life.
D
I was using the money to take care of my family. I don't have expensive cars or clothes or houses. We went on vacation. My kids had the clothes they wanted, and we wasn't living extravagant at all. But I could go out to Applebee's, and Fridays, every day, we go to the movies twice a week. My kids wanted new cleats. They got them New baseball bats. They got them. So I kind of was putting a lot of it back into the children, but. But I did it because it just made me give my children a better life, and I'm wrong for that.
B
I asked Jenkins if he can remember when he first crossed the line. Where did this all begin?
D
You don't start out corrupt. You don't start out like that. I never broke the law a day in my life, just until I became a cop. I never sold a drug a day in my life. I became a cop. I never thought I would sell a drug. I thought I was on the right side. And like money, like greed, it creeps in on everyone. But you're slowly brought into that world.
B
Do you remember the first time you ever took money in the course of your career?
D
I know exactly when, if not a lot of times I did take money myself, but I do remember. I remember I was actually coaxed into it by veterans.
B
I mean, does it happen, like, in the spur of the moment? They hand you money and say, this is what we do? Or do they tell you ahead of time, this is what we're gonna do? Like, how does that work?
D
They test you. They're like. Like, on this specific one, there was a couple hundred thousand hours in a briefcase, and the veteran who probably at the time had. I would say 14, 15, 16 years on. the time when he opened it up, he was like, man, that's a lot of money, you know? You know, we're going to a bachelor party this weekend at Atlantic City. He was a sergeant at the time. We opened up the briefcase, and he was like, that's a lot of money there. And he was like, you know what? It sure would be nice if we had $10,000 to go out for my wedding. And I was brand new and never took a dollar. And I was scared. I was like, is he pesting me or. That's how this is really how it went down. Just me and him in an apartment room. On top of the bed was a briefcase. And I was like, well, what do you want me to do? He's like, I'm not telling you to do anything. I'm just saying, sure, it'd be nice if we had $10,000 a piece to go up to Atlantic City. And I remember taking the $10,000.
B
How did you feel?
D
I thought it was being tested, like I was scared. But then that weekend, he actually picked me up by my mother in law's, and we traveled out there about six or seven cops and back to van. And he walked up on the porch, and he was like, you still got mine, right? And I was like, yeah. He was like, all right, give me mine. And I gave him ten grand.
B
And did that kind of thing happen regularly, on a regular basis?
D
Yes. Yep, 100%.
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When Jenkins talks about his time as a police officer, there's still pride in his voice.
D
I was a cop for 14 years, and I was the best. The best in the city. The golden boy. No one could get drugs and guns like me. We got four times as many guns as any cop in the city did. Wherever I went, I got guns because I was aggressive. I want to get guns.
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But now that he's in federal prison for 25 years, Jenkins is prepared to talk about how he got those results. He lays out this kind of roadmap of normalized corruption that he says is endemic to the Baltimore Police Department, stuff he's seen since he was a rookie. The kind of things you rarely, if ever, hear cops admit to. And it starts with lying on arrest reports, on applications for warrants, even in front of judges and juries. He says if he didn't have probable cause, meaning a legal reason to stop somebody, it didn't matter.
D
I was taught to get the guy by all means. And this is a saying we state, don't let probable cause stand in the way of A good arrest, it means get the bad guy however you got to get him. But if you got a lie about what you've seen or what you heard or what you witnessed, as long as he's dirty and he's got the drugs and he's got the guns and he did the crime, then just get him. Just get them, and we'll worry about how to write it later. So if you could get in that man's house and arrest him, if you could arrest him in a car, stop by lying, whatever you could do to get them. That's how I was taught. That's from the top to the bottom.
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I want to pause there for just a second because while lying on reports might not seem as dramatic as stealing bundles of cash from drug dealers, it confirms what many Baltimore defense lawyers had been saying about Jenkins for years, that he was lying about what really happened during arrests, as well as lying on the witness stand. It was one of many warning signs that just got ignored. Jenkins also says that the pressure was always on him and other plainclothes officers to produce. That meant seizing guns by any means necessary, not with carefully crafted investigations into illegal gun traffickers, but by chasing people off of street corners. And for every gun he seized, he got rewarded in the form of overtime hours, hours he didn't actually work.
D
When you get to plain clothes and work narcotics or guns, it's bred into you. So you started on patrol in the blue and white. If you don't get guns and drugs and in full pursuits, don't even think about going to a drug unit. I got one running. He's turning left on the Alameda, making a right on Green Mount. He's got a gun. That's who you want. Because why would you want someone else who's not going to get out the car and be aggressive in your unit? He's not going to make you look good. And to look good and to get days off and get unlimited overtime, you have to make your boss look good. Because in the commissioners and the deputy commissioners, hey, the checkbook's open. You keep getting these guns. Now, the other squads who don't get guns and they're playing clothes, they're not getting overtime. They don't get to come in when they want. My whole career, I was told, wayne, come in. This call is from a federal prison. Wayne. I don't care what you work, you're getting guns. The checkbooks open.
B
He says this sort of casual corruption happened with drug seizures, too. Jenkins says officers routinely recovered illegal narcotics, and if they didn't feel like making the arrests or doing the paperwork. They just pocketed the drugs and let the dealers go.
D
I was taught to do that. Like it's late in the afternoon or we get off early or we want to go drinking or we got a softball game or tomorrow we have to work overtime. The sergeants would teach you, the lieutenants would teach you, let them go. Get them out of here. Keep the drugs. Right? They would never say submit them. They know what we're doing and we're throwing them out the window. So for years, we threw drugs out the window. Literally everybody throws them underneath the train bridge. I've seen it done my whole career. Going to eat with the guys when I was a rookie and everything. Just throwing drugs out the window. Pills of heroin, bags of marijuana. Seen it done, honest to God, 500 times.
B
He also tells me how police officers would put their heads together to avoid punishment if any of their illegal activity came to light.
D
When cops get in trouble. See, there's a whole history of this. When cops get in trouble or cops get accused of something on the street, or someone gets suspended or someone gets an internal affairs complaint, immediately we get together and you go over your story. You say this, you say that, right? You're taught that the second someone gets in trouble, we meet up and we talk face to face.
B
You say all that, and my question's like, is working that way making Baltimore safer?
D
You have to, because you're not going to beat it by playing fair. If you do exactly what the law states, you're not gonna put nobody in prison, you're not gonna put nobody in jail. They're gonna beat the case.
B
So you do see it as sort of an ends justify the means thing.
D
I did. I did, yes.
B
Jenkins doesn't mince his words when he's talking about the culture of corruption he claims is embedded in the Baltimore Police Department. But he's a lot less clear about his own role in the crimes of the gun trace task force. He downplays his part in many of them and outright denies that others happened at all, even the ones written into his plea agreement. The document he signed that details specific criminal acts that he pled guilty to. Here is one example. In the spring of 2015, the City of Baltimore was rocked by civil unrest after the incoming custody death of 25 year old Freddie Gray. At one point, dozens of pharmacies were looted and millions of dollars worth of medication went missing. And that was when one of the most shocking incidents described in Wayne Jenkins plea agreement took place. This is from that document.
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In April 2015, following the riots after the death of Freddie Gray, Jenkins brought DS prescription medicines that he had stolen from someone looting a pharmacy so that DS could sell the medications.
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DS Is Donald Stepp Jenkins, longtime drug dealing partner. Stepp, a bail bondsman and convicted cocaine dealer who Jenkins had known for years, turned around and sold those prescription drugs. But when I asked Jenkins about this, he denies that it ever happened.
D
I never took a thing. I never had time. I didn't deal with Donnie every day like that. Donnie straight made all that up, so help me God. I never took one piece of drug from the rides. I never took nothing from a looter, so help me God. Donnie made every piece of that up, so help me God.
B
You didn't go see him that. That day or anything?
D
Never, so help me God. Never.
B
Jenkins does admit that he took other drugs that he seized during the course of his police work and gave them to Donald Step to sell. One thing becomes crystal clear. There is no love lost between Wayne Jenkins and Donald Stepp. And that's putting it mildly. When Step told me about the beginning of their drug dealing partnership, he said it was Jenkins idea proposed while they were out at a casino together. But Jenkins has a completely different version of that story.
D
Donny's been asking me for years for the Caesar's Meal on tv, and he sees me in a newspaper making the biggest grabs in Baltimore City because I always got a lot of weed, a lot of coke, a lot of heroin. And I swear on this, he was like, man, I keep telling you and telling you, you're spending all this coke. Wayne, I can sell any coke you give me. I can sell anything. I just gotta find the right person to buy it. I'll give the money back to you. And I would give it to Donnie. Like an idiot, like an idiot, like a greedy fool, I would give it to Donnie to sell.
B
And while Stepp testified at trial that Jenkins made hundreds of thousands of dollars off of their partnership, Jenkins puts that figure much lower.
D
That's why I'm so upset with him. Like the exaggeration he's doing, all saying we made all kinds of money. Donna's the biggest exaggerator I've ever met in my life. He's a straight liar. None of it's true. None of it.
B
So what's your estimation of how much you gave him and maybe what it was worth ultimately?
D
Total of my whole life messing with him. A total of the very Most would be three total keys, which would be $45,000 total. And then I Gave him several pounds of marijuana. I would say. I would say a total, maybe 50 pounds of weed. So that would be another 25 grand. That's total. That's over a course of years.
B
That does put a certain amount of drugs back on the street. Right?
D
It's wrong. I can't. I'm not going to justify. It wasn't wrong. Just. I can't do that because it was wrong.
B
I did go back and run all of this past Donnie Stepp. He was angry to hear that Jenkins is going back on what he pled guilty to and fully sticks by his original story that it was Jenkins who proposed their criminal partnership and that together they sold a million dollars worth of drugs. At the same time. Wayne Jenkins admits his drug dealing to me. He also tries to distance himself from some of his other crimes. He agrees that he stole cash from people's homes, but then claims he never took money straight out of people's pockets on the street.
D
In 14 years of service, I never had a theft complaint, and I've arrested over 1,000 people. I never had one because I never took money off individuals. I did give drugs to Donnie several times, but never did I steal people's money from their pockets or from car stops.
B
It's also difficult to pin Jenkins down on his role in some of the thefts committed along with the other Gun Trace Task force officer. There was a 2016 incident at the home of a man named Oree Stevenson. The unit arrested him with cocaine and cash in his vehicle. Back at Stevenson's home, the officers broke into his safe, stole $100,000, then sealed it back up and recreated the safe break on video to cover their tracks.
D
Nobody touches you understand me? Right now?
B
But Jenkins claims that video is authentic. What you see in the video is what really happened. He says the money that the officers stole that day was from somewhere else in the house. He also admits that he stole cocaine. Did you steal money from Oree Stevenson's house?
D
I participated in it, yes. I did not take the money myself. No. Hendricks and Ward took the money from the house.
B
So you didn't take. I know that there's some question about the authenticity of that video.
D
It's from a federal prison. I did not take one penny from that house and never knew anything was taken from the safe.
B
Okay, but. But the drugs, obviously you gave to Mr. Stepp.
D
Yep, I did. Yes, I did.
B
I then asked if he stole money from the home of another Gun Trace Task force victim, Ronald Hamilton.
D
I did not take $1 from that house. There was cameras Everywhere. So I would never took a dollar. Later on that evening, Condo did give me money that evening. Hours later. I'm talking hours later, he gave me money.
B
So you did take money, Ultimately, I did, yes.
D
Yes, I did.
B
The major claim Jenkins is making is that the plea agreement he signed contains multiple falsehoods, things he now says he never did. It's not a small matter to sign a plea agreement in front of a federal judge that you know is full of untruths. So Jenkins either lied when he signed that document, or he's lying to me now. But he justifies this by saying that if he'd gone to trial, the prosecutors would have pursued him on charges that could have put him behind bars for life.
D
That was my choice, Jessica. Go to trial and get life. Life in prison with three small children. Now, I deserve 10 to 15 years, Jessica. I stole drugs. As a dirty cop, I believe 10 to 15 years is fair. For what I did, I got 25 years. I got gangster charges, racketeering charges, things they used to get the mobs who were bearing bodies and cement. I got those charges. I deserve 10 or 15 years. I sold drugs, but never in my life did I deserve 25 years when I didn't hurt no one, I didn't abuse no one. Never.
B
I mean, I think it's arguable that you did hurt people. Like, maybe not physically, necessarily, but you. You know, you put people away who didn't deserve to go away. I mean, you.
D
That is 100% not true. Who'd I put away? Never in my life did I put people who didn't deserve it.
B
This is a point I couldn't get Jenkins to budge on. He kept insisting he'd never harmed anybody. And when I tried to push back on that, it just went nowhere. So I tried to put the question to him in other ways. You know, so many of the victims that we heard from were black, and many of them were poor and, you know, had criminal records that could discredit them if they ever complained about what happened to them. So I'm curious how race factored into how you did your job.
D
It didn't. We only work in black neighborhoods. The fact is, in Baltimore city, people are dying in all black neighborhoods. And that's where you have to be at, because that's where the guns are at. White people just not getting shot in Baltimore. Black people are.
B
I admit, this left me almost speechless. Like, he just said the quiet part loud. If officers like Jenkins were only going into black neighborhoods, then pretty much all these casual civil Rights abuses, not to mention the crimes perpetrated by the gun trace task force, were exacted exclusively on black people. I tried to talk to Jenkins about how this must create an endless cycle of police violence and community mistrust in these neighborhoods. The thing that I'm struggling with, and I think the thing that people get so disturbed by when they hear about the gun trace task force case is, you know, anytime that people say, why don't you trust police? You can just say, well, look at the gun trace task force case. And I. I just wonder how you feel about that
D
as far as people trusting the police. I just got to be honest. I'm sure it adds to it that six or seven of us went down for. For stealing drugs and selling them because we stole and stole drugs. We could definitely play into the mistrust. Without question, we could.
B
I wanted to nail Jenkins down on one. Did any of his direct supervisors at the Baltimore Police Department know or suspect he was stealing drugs or know that any other member of the gun trace task force was stealing money? For years, BPD officials have said over and over again that no one knew a thing. But Jenkins names two of his former supervisors who he says he told about Mamadou Gondo and Jamel Raym, two of the task force detectives who admitted to multiple robberies.
D
You had to know about Gondo and Ram. I told these guys they're hot. Now, you gotta keep in mind, every now and again, I'm giving Donny Step weed and cocaine, okay? I don't want to work with guys who are in and out of internal affairs getting in trouble. I'm not getting complaints from internal affairs ever. So I don't want these guys bringing heat on me or working with these guys who are gonna get me in trouble because they got terrible names.
B
And, I mean, what. What is going wrong there Where. Where you can tell a supervisor, I don't. I don't want to work with these guys. I think they're dirty and nothing happens because they produce.
D
And if they produce and you make your boss above you look good about producing, as long as they're getting those numbers, other guns and other drug units ain't getting no guns like we're getting guns. So they're good.
B
I reached out to the Baltimore Police Department to respond to all of this. I provided a detailed list of former Sergeant Wayne Jenkins allegations. I never heard back from them in the past. Their response to the gun trace task force has been to say that in the aftermath of the Freddie Gray investigation, they're under a federal consent Decree, which means they're being monitored by the US Department of Justice to ensure they are practicing constitutional policing. The decree is supposed to force all kinds of reforms throughout the Baltimore Police Department, from reducing use of force to improving internal affairs processes. In theory, it could root out corruption in the plainclothes units or even prevent it from happening in the first place. But this kind of reform could take decades and feels like a mysterious bureaucratic process to the average Baltimorean. I know that part of the reason Jenkins talked to me is he's hoping to get a sentence reduction. But I also think he spoke to me because he doesn't like the image of himself that's out there as the sociopathic leader of this rogue unit, to borrow one of his own terms, a monster. I don't need Wayne Jenkins to be a monster. I think it's too easy to write him off that way. It's like that tired phrase, a few bad apples. It's a way to punish individual officers while ignoring and preserving the bigger system at work. It's a system that gave these officers almost unfettered power, rewarded them for their heavy handedness, then turned a blind eye when there were obvious signs of trouble. It's a culture that punishes police officers for speaking up when they see misconduct. When Wayne Jenkins says he didn't cause any harm, it seems to show he has a pretty limited view of the impact the Gun Trace Task Force had on Baltimore. One that I don't share. I've always been struck by the way their crimes had this ripple effect throughout the city on individual lives. A ripple effect that's still being felt to this day. The actions of these officers led directly to people losing their jobs, their homes. One man sat in jail when his three year old son died in the hospital of pneumonia. He was robbed of the chance to hold his child one last time. Another said the stress of a robbery led to the breakdown of his marriage. And that's to say Nothing of the 800 cases that were thrown out because one of these officers had been involved. Where did all those 800 people go next? What happened to them? Someone once said to me that it will take a generation before the direct impact of the Gun Trace Task Force begins to fade. And I think they might be right. Shaun Whiting knows this firsthand. He was robbed by some of the officers back in 2014 and only freed from prison after the Gun Trace Task Force crimes came to light. I went back to see him recently. He seems to be doing well, living in a tidy apartment near downtown with his daughter. But even seven years later, the robbery still weighs heavy on his mind.
C
It's just like when you can't sleep at night. You dream you had nightmares about police officers harassing you, beating you up, just locking you up. It's just a nightmare that I have and it basically haven't gone away yet. You know, I just go through this on a daily basis, scared of police wondering when they're going to stop you or harm you or even kill you and plant a gun and say, you did this and you did that. But you know what I mean? The police still doing the same tactics. Nothing ain't changing yet.
B
If he's right, if the police are back to the same tactics used by the Gun Trace Task force, then another scandal can't be far off. Because as shocking as these crimes were, they're hardly unique in Baltimore. Every few years, corrupt police officers get caught, they go to prison, and then after everyone has kind of forgotten about it, the same story plays out all over, over again. Without meaningful reform, without a complete reimagining of the culture of the Baltimore Police Department and other police departments around the country, history will surely repeat itself.
C
It definitely hurt the whole city because you got a lot of bad ones in there. Long as you got bad police, it's going to go on. And go on, it gonna happen again. So I say, nah, it ain't over. It's just begun.
B
You've been listening to Bad Cops from the BBC World Service with me, Jessica Lessenhope. The program was mixed by Neil Churchill. The producer is Ben Crichton, and the editor is Richard Varden. Additional mixing by James Beard and additional sound by Danny Greenwald. Extra special thanks to Chloe Hejimatheu and Richard Fenton Smith for their editorial expertise and to Chelsea Bailey, Cora Lee Barro, Ben Bevington, Angelica Casas, Hannah Long Higgins, Shrey Poppat, Charlotte MacDonald and Chris Rowland. Thanks also to Brandon Soderbergh and Baynard Woods. Their book about the Gun Trace Task force is called I Got a Monster. And to Justin Fenton, his own book about this case is called We Own this City. Both books were invaluable references for this series. Check them out if you want to learn much, much more about this case. Lastly, thanks to our brilliant actors who brought some of the Gun Trace Task Force trial to life. Kavna Holbrooke Smith, Ian Porter, Justice Richie and Sean Mason.
C
If you're enjoying Bad Cops, make sure to check out season one of the Burden. You'll meet the greatest detective in Brooklyn history. He takes on the worst criminals until one day the criminals take him on.
Host: Jessica Lussenhop (Orbit Media / BBC World Service)
Date: August 4, 2026
In this pivotal episode, host Jessica Lussenhop digs into the life and crimes of Sergeant Wayne Jenkins, the so-called "Golden Boy" of Baltimore Police’s Gun Trace Task Force (GTTF). After years of silence, Jenkins—convicted and serving a 25-year sentence for a staggering array of corruption—breaks his silence in a rare, frank phone interview from prison. The episode explores how a decorated police officer not only crossed the line into criminality but became the architect of a culture of normalized corruption, with devastating implications for Baltimore’s Black communities and trust in policing. It delves into the mechanics of police corruption, the institutional enablers, and the profound ripple effects on victims—all while emphasizing bigger questions of systemic rot over individual villainy.
Drug Seizures and Disposals ([15:31])
Coordinated Lying When Accused ([16:18])
On systemic culture:
"I was taught to get the guy by all means... Don't let probable cause stand in the way of a good arrest."
— Wayne Jenkins ([13:17])
On first theft:
"I remember taking the $10,000."
— Wayne Jenkins ([11:48])
Host's reaction to Jenkins' admissions:
"He just said the quiet part loud. If officers like Jenkins were only going into black neighborhoods, then pretty much all these casual civil rights abuses... were exacted exclusively on black people."
— Jessica Lussenhop ([25:53])
Victim’s trauma:
"You dream, you have nightmares about police officers harassing you, beating you up, just locking you up ... scared of police wondering when they're going to stop you or harm you or even kill you and plant a gun and say, you did this and you did that."
— Shaun Whiting ([31:54])
On the cycle of scandal:
"If the police are back to the same tactics used by the Gun Trace Task Force, then another scandal can't be far off... Without meaningful reform ... history will surely repeat itself."
— Jessica Lussenhop ([32:30])
Victim pessimism:
"So I say, nah, it ain't over. It's just begun."
— Shaun Whiting ([33:07])
The episode smoothly alternates between Jenkins’ first-person account, the host’s analysis and challenges, and a powerful coda from a surviving victim. The tone is methodical, investigative, frequently incredulous, and always compassionate toward community impact. Lussenhop provides critical context and pushes against Jenkins’ self-exoneration, underscoring how the GTTF scandal transcends "bad apples" and exposes deep-rooted institutional flaws.
"The Golden Boy" is less a confessional than a rare look into a cultural and bureaucratic machinery that allowed (and rewarded) police misconduct. Jenkins' own evasions and self-justifications are as telling as his admissions, illuminating hurdles to real reform. The human toll—etched in the words of survivors like Shaun Whiting—reminds listeners that for Baltimore, the aftermath is far from over.