‘ONE SPARK, AND IT WILL BE ALL BAD’
Body camera footage offers exclusive view into what police knew about dangerous warehouse where 36 died, and what happened that fateful night
OAKLAND >> “One spark.”
A year before the Ghost Ship blaze killed 36 partygoers, an Oakland police officer could sense the fire danger as he and a colleague wandered through the cluttered Fruitvale district warehouse, called there for a tenant dispute.
“One spark and it will be all bad,” Officer Moises Palanco said, according to police body camera footage of a September 2015 visit exclusively obtained by this news agency.
Over the past year, the Bay Area News Group has viewed more than a dozen videos showing police visiting the ill-fated artists’ collective, which was being used illegally as a residence and concert venue. On at least seven occasions, police can be seen going inside the building in response to calls of fights, illegal parties and tenant disputes. Public records offer no indication that these officers notified city fire or building officials about the hazardous conditions they found there.
But the newly obtained footage — provided to the news group by a source — offers the most glaring evidence so far that officers, long before the deadly Dec. 2, 2016, fire, had intimate knowledge of the warehouse interior and its tenants. Police can be heard on camera stating they knew people were living there, despite the denials of master tenant Derick Al-
mena. It is now clear that several officers had visited the 31st Avenue building more than once.
The numerous official visits in the two-plus years before the inferno are at the heart of a civil lawsuit against Oakland, which if successful, could leave the city liable for 36 deaths and other damages. Besides police, firefighters also responded to issues at the building multiple times, witnesses have said, and went inside at least once during a party in 2014. But in part because firefighters do not wear body cameras, as police do, it is difficult to say just what they knew about the hazards inside.
Almena and Max Harris, his right-hand man who also lived at the warehouse, are expected to stand trial in July, charged with 36 counts each of involuntary manslaughter for those who died in the inferno, unable to escape the confusing labyrinth inside the warehouse amid thick, choking smoke. Almena’s attorneys have made the numerous contacts by city officials part of their criminal defense, alleging in a motion to dismiss his case that the city’s frequent visits with no citations or code violation orders was tantamount to permission to operate his building as-is.
Top Oakland police officials have defended the officers, saying they are not trained to identify fire hazards. Before the Ghost Ship fire, police were not required to report illegal parties or unpermitted events, but the department has since changed policy to require it. The department did not respond when asked whether it also now requires officers to report obvious unsafe buildings such as the warehouse, or where referrals would go. Nor would it comment on the frequency of visits by officers inside the warehouse.
Jim Dudley, a criminal justice lecturer at San Francisco State University, said police should have protocols in place to handle properties with chronic problems.
“I think you have officials who knew or saw the condition but they are reluctant to push people out on the street,” said Dudley, who is a former San Francisco police deputy chief. “If you have a vulnerable concentration of people there, you are taking a risk every day you know about it and nothing gets done. We see what happens with the alternative when you don’t take action.”
But statewide, there is no training to help police officers identify dangerous buildings, said Dave Althausen, a spokesman with the state’s Commission on Peace Officer Standards and Training.
“That said, if an officer observes a potentially unsafe building in the course of their duties, in my opinion, they should rely upon their training and experience as to how to proceed,” he said.
Attorney Bobby Thompson, who represents a number of victims’ families, scoffed at arguments that police are not trained to spot code violations and therefore should not be responsible for alerting other departments.
“They know damn well how to report those up the chain,” Thompson said. “Do you need to be a fire inspector to realize a fire alarm not working is dangerous? Do you need to be a building inspector to know if not having a fire extinguisher is dangerous? … No, you don’t. You just need to be a human
being with a brain.”
This news agency has already reported that one officer threatened on camera to shut down the warehouse after a rave in 2015. The latest batch of videos show officers inside all floors of the warehouse, using the now-infamous makeshift wooden pallet staircase and talking about people living inside the illegal residence:
• On June 15, 2015, officers briefly went inside on a report of a stabbing. During the call, one officer told a neighbor outside the adjacent auto body shop, “You guys need to do something about having this place closed down.”
• On Oct. 29, 2016, multiple
officers went inside the Ghost Ship and used a ladder to access the roof to save a man threatening to jump.
Video of the Sept. 18, 2015, police call, however, is a troubling example of officers discussing the many hazards inside. Palanco and Officer Jonathan Low arrived at 1315 31st Ave. to stand watch as tenant Sadao Dennis collected his belongings. At one point, Low followed Dennis up the makeshift stairwell, but stopped halfway.
“I don’t feel comfortable climbing up there, let’s just make it quick,” Low said, as he walked back down, past electrical cords. The stairs creaked with each step. “Is this even stable?”
As the two officers waited for Dennis to finish packing, Palanco appeared amazed at what he sees: exposed electrical wires, wood furniture stuffed inside the ground floor, not far from a parked trailer.
“It’s like a huge fireplace in here,” Palanco whispered.
“Oh yeah,” Low replied. “I would be so worried about the electrical wires… wow,” Palanco said.
Like many other officers, the visit was not Low’s first. Eight months earlier, called to the warehouse to settle another dispute, a frustrated Low told Almena, “I think we’re gonna have to shut (Ghost Ship) down. We’re just coming here too many times.” During that Jan. 31, 2015, visit, multiple tenants told Low they lived there; one man revealed how much rent he paid.
Hours of footage reviewed by this news agency show the first three months of 2015 were a hectic time at Ghost Ship. It all started after a New Year’s Eve orgy was held there, and Almena was angry because his young son apparently found a condom the next day, according to video and police and court documents. Organizers of the party called police on Jan. 2 to report an assault, and said Almena was holding their music gear hostage.
Footage from officers Kevin Godchaux, Francis Hammon and Josue Mora show officers walking around the upstairs floor of the warehouse, where Almena, his wife and three children lived. The City Administrator’s Office initially refused to release those particular body camera videos to this news agency, citing a police internal affairs investigation related to the case. The footage was released after threat of litigation.
In another set of videos from Jan. 4, 2015, officers Jay Factora and Austen Leffler visited the warehouse late at night, summoned there by someone who called a child abuse hotline and said Almena’s kids were living inside. The officers banged on the front door, and Almena popped his head out a second-story window.
“Is it just you here or are there any children?” one officer asked. Almena replied, “There’s a bunch of people working and stuff. What’s your problem?”
Minutes later, Almena invited the officers inside, and called for his three children to come downstairs. One officer explained he has to make sure the kids are OK, have enough food and warm water, while Almena and his wife, Micah Allison, said the children sometimes stayed there while they work but they have another permanent home. Almena said he built them a room upstairs.
“We definitely don’t live here,” Allison is heard saying, before she struggles to give the address of their other supposed home, eventually coming up with cross streets near Highland Hospital. One of the officers said he would take an informational report and pass along Alameda County Child Protective Services contact information to the parents.
“I’m gonna say I came out here, I talked to you, checked on the kids, the kids were fine,” the officer said as he wrapped up the call. “Yeah, it’s a warehouse and it may not be typical… but it appears as far as I can tell all their needs are being met, they seem happy, there doesn’t seem to be any problems going on.”