Gentry was moonlighting as a security guard, a job he took only after getting all the necessary approvals from his police superiors. A few months later, the very superiors who had approved his moonlighting reprimanded Gentry for it. After he filed grievances, he was transferred to a precinct where Jonovich was a sergeant. Jonovich and others ordered him not to talk to anyone in the office except for "victims, witnesses or suspects."
When Gentry passed notes to communicate with his fellow officers, his superiors told him his behavior was "bizarre." He was moved to a small room where he had to ask permission to go to the bathroom. "They essentially stopped me from doing my job," he says. After several internal investigations, Gentry was fired.
But after a few years of battling in the Arizona courts, he was ordered reinstated with full back pay and pension benefits.
Jonovich denies that he is a bully--then or now. He dismisses the complaints as "typical of personnel situations," saying, "That happens pretty much when you have employees who are not satisfied with the way things are going for them."
SEVERAL FORMER and current investigators say Ennis and Jonovich operate by a double standard. They accuse the two bosses of taking care of private business on state time--accusations that would prompt internal investigations if leveled against others in the department.
Maybe there haven't been investigations, but some of the underlings have spied on their bosses and even written internal memos about it.
Ennis' lottery-consulting business has evolved after he was fired as head of security for the Arizona Lottery by Mecham in 1987. Ennis says Mofford gave him special permission to keep the business as long as he didn't work on state time or with state equipment. "I have walked into Hugh Ennis' office and heard him discussing his lottery business over the phone," claims Ralph Robinson, a retired DPS captain who was demoted to an investigator after being replaced by Jonovich.
An internal memo reveals that Robinson also claims to have overheard the office clerical staff grousing about a trusted Ennis aide tying up a department copy machine to duplicate papers relating to Ennis' lottery-consulting business. Ennis says he "absolutely does not" conduct private business on state time. "Quite the opposite," he says, explaining that he transfers liquor business, like the budget, to a floppy disk and runs it on his computer at home.
This all happened at about the same time investigator Steve Schrimpf was investigated for taking a friend for a ride in a staff car. He also was reprimanded for "unintentionally falsifying" a work log by saying he went to the doctor at two o'clock in the afternoon, when he really went to the doctor at twelve. He was investigated for this, too.
Schrimpf--the guy who also had shot a bullet into the office floor--holds no grudges. He says Ennis and Jonovich have been unjustly criticized for simply trying to bring the department up to snuff. He does admit, though, that even now "a lot that should be handled at the supervisory level ends up being investigated."
In this atmosphere, it figures that Jonovich himself would be spied upon. Robinson and former investigator Bill Hall both say they've heard Jonovich talk about his investments business on the telephone during office hours. Jonovich doesn't deny those chats. "I've had clients call me in the office. I reserve the right to talk to anybody about anything at any time," he says. Even so, he insists these telephone calls do not amount to doing business in his office.
"From what I recall," says Hall, who sat next to Jonovich's office, "he would talk to people about things that applied to his business on the phone. He did not say, `Call me back later.' He gave advice right then and there on the phone."
Hall says he eventually had his desk moved because he feared he would be punished for knowing about the conversations. "Whatever you said about Jonovich came back on you," he says. Eventually Hall resigned to become an Arizona State University cop. "It took me a long time to get used to the fact that where I work now, people aren't paranoid."
LIQUOR BOARD CHAIR Kay McKay has spent a lot of her time in the dark about the department's capers. She says she did not know about the weenie suit or the shoplifting escapade or the allegation that Jonovich had unleashed a vendetta against investigators who'd been critical of Ennis.
"My God, this sounds like Watergate!" she says.
It's also evidence that communication between the Liquor Department and the Liquor Board is terrible. Ennis and the board have been at odds since Ennis' booze-in-the-skybox ruling, which some board members opposed because they thought it was unfair that the poor slobs in the stands were prohibited from drinking.