USA TODAY US Edition

‘Live PD’ flap could undo a Texas sheriff

Critics say sheriff using public office to gain fame

- Tony Plohetski

Robert Chody and his wife grinned widely in March 2001 as news cameras filmed them receiving the largest-ever Texas lottery check: $51 million and change.

The windfall paved the path for the man who grew up in a Florida trailer park with a single mother to fulfill his boyhood dreams of becoming a law enforcemen­t hero. In recent years, he’s done it with a camera crew at the ready and an adoring audience who loves law enforcemen­t as much as Chody had come to when, at 15, an officer rescued him from the terrifying fists of his mother’s boyfriend.

Since winning the lottery, Chody has built a reputation as a conservati­ve lawman with a penchant for social media and a craving for celebrity. He quickly quit his job patrolling weekend revelers on Austin’s rowdy Sixth Street and began cultivatin­g a political career that would lead him to the top law enforcemen­t job in one of Texas’ most notoriousl­y tough-on-crime counties.

As police department­s nationwide reexamine policies that contribute to deadly violence that disproport­ionately impacts communitie­s of color, Williamson County Sheriff Chody stands in stark contrast.

Under Chody’s leadership since 2017, Williamson County has hired deputies with troubled pasts and dramatical­ly increased its use of force and highspeed chases, both of which disproport­ionately involved Black civilians. His department’s leaders reportedly doled out steakhouse gift cards to deputies considered “badass” enough to use force.

Much of Chody’s tenure has unfolded on the TV reality show “Live PD.”

But when a violent incident with his deputies turned deadly, taking the life of 40-year-old Black father Javier Ambler II, Chody’s star began to fade. The show that made him a celebrity was canceled after the Austin American-Statesman revealed details of the 2019 death that was captured on “Live PD” video.

Now, the cameras that propelled Chody’s fame could be his undoing.

A grand jury last month indicted Chody on a felony evidence tampering charge for his alleged role in the destructio­n of footage of the incident. Chody denies breaking any laws.

His supporters say Chody has done what they elected him to do: preserve law and order and serve as a symbol of Williamson County’s zero-tolerance for crime.

Chody’s critics say he is using public office to slake his thirst for fame.

As Chody faces reelection next month, he contends not only with a felony indictment but with fractured relations with local Republican leaders and former allies, several of whom have demanded his resignatio­n.

“I steadfastl­y support the good cops, but there is no place in law enforcemen­t for those who discredit and disgrace the badge,” said County Commission­er Cynthia Long, a Republican.

Chody declined to be interviewe­d for this story.

A personal path to millions

Chody’s father killed himself when Chody was 8, leaving his mother to raise four children in the Orlando suburbs.

Seven years later, a Florida sheriff ’s deputy, Paul Peterson, walked briefly into his life.

On that day, Chody said his mother’s boyfriend began beating her and his twin brother, so he ran down the street to call for help.

“I’ve told the story 100 times, and some of it I am finding out is not completely accurate, but I will tell you what is accurate, and that is the sense of security I had,” he said.

The encounter inspired Chody to chase a career in law enforcemen­t.

“Live PD” fans helped Chody reunite with Peterson, who had retired and moved to Tennessee. When Peterson and Chody met in person at a Knoxville Cheddar’s restaurant on Aug. 2, 2019, the sheriff shared the moment with his 35,000 Facebook followers in a video.

After graduating high school, Chody served four years in the U.S. Army. He then moved to North Texas to work as a correction­s officer. He joined the Austin Police Department in 1996.

He and his wife, Beverly, saw their fortunes change in March 2001, when she bought $5 in Quick Pick tickets, including the matching numbers for the $85 million jackpot – $34 million of which was withheld for taxes.

From officer to politician

Chody’s policing career took a violent turn early on.

In August 1998, he was dispatched to a call about a disturbanc­e between a man and a woman. When he arrived on the scene, Chody said he believed Marcus DeWayne Frank was the suspect.

But Frank had not been involved in the disturbanc­e. He was walking down the street and disobeyed Chody’s command to “come here.” Chody smashed the teenager’s head on the hood of his patrol car and put him in a “full nelson,” a wrestling position that places pressure on the neck. The force caused Frank to convulse, his family argued in a lawsuit.

The case was eventually settled for $30,000 – paid by Austin taxpayers.

Now 37, Frank is an insurance customer service representa­tive and lives in Phoenix.

“I forgive him, but do I forget?” Frank asked. “Absolutely not. Do I think he is a good person? No, I do not. Do I think he should be sheriff ? Pardon my French, but hell to the no.”

The remainder of Chody’s Austin police tenure was unremarkab­le, and his supervisor­s would later praise his work.

Chody resigned not long after winning the lottery and settling the lawsuit with Frank.

For the next six years, he served as a volunteer deputy constable in Williamson County’s Precinct 2.

In 2007, Chody ran for constable against an embattled incumbent and won handily.

Chody’s former chief deputy, Robert Woodring, said he and others believed Chody viewed the constable position as a stepping stone to a larger political role.

“He makes a very good first impression, but as time goes by, those layers start to peel off and you start to see who this person really is,” said Woodring, who now works for the Blanco County (Texas) Sheriff ’s Office. “If you can make him feel good about himself, you are going to do good. If you can kiss his butt, you are going to do great and, if you can stroke his ego, you are going to do awesome.”

Chody’s term as sheriff

Chody spent almost a half-million dollars of his own money and won his race for sheriff in 2016.

He immediatel­y went to work wooing a TV show to highlight his agency.

In a January 2018 public pitch to county commission­ers, he said “Live PD” would showcase Williamson County as a national model for profession­al law enforcemen­t.

Chody’s social media following skyrockete­d, with “Live PD” fans tweeting and commenting on his Facebook posts from across the nation.

As Chody’s TV stardom grew, trouble was brewing. With camera crews in tow, deputies engaged in more high-speed pursuits and used force more often, data obtained by the American-Statesman shows. More than one in five of the pursuits and force incidents involved Black individual­s, though they represent less than one in 10 county residents.

In addition to Ambler’s death, other high-profile force incidents drew controvers­y. Last summer, county commission­ers canceled the contract with “Live PD.” Angered, Chody drafted his own contract to bring the show back. The commission­ers sued Chody to stop him.

During Chody’s administra­tion, the county has received what commission­ers say is a record number of lawsuits and other complaints.

“We are having a tough time with our insurance company because of liability created at the (sheriff ’s office),” County Commission­er Russ Boles, a Republican, said at a Sept. 15 meeting.

Thirteen days later, Chody was indicted on evidence tampering charges, alleging that he helped to destroy “Live PD” footage of Ambler’s death.

In a wide-ranging news conference, Chody said he was innocent. “I find it shocking and disgusting that our district attorney is using his office for his political agenda,” Chody said.

Williamson County voters will decide next month whether Chody will continue to serve as their top cop.

Kim Jones, Ambler’s sister, said that Chody’s wealth won’t save him from voters who are ready for a change.

“You can have all the money in the world, but if you are not a good person, it doesn’t matter,” she said. “It doesn’t change who you are.”

“Do I think he should be a sheriff? Pardon my French, but hell to the no.” Marcus DeWayne Frank

 ?? BRONTE WITTPENN/USA TODAY NETWORK ?? Maritza and Javier Ambler lost their adult son, Javier Antonio Ambler II, when he was stopped by a Williamson County, Texas, sheriff ’s deputy for not dimming his headlights, an incident filmed by “Live PD.”
BRONTE WITTPENN/USA TODAY NETWORK Maritza and Javier Ambler lost their adult son, Javier Antonio Ambler II, when he was stopped by a Williamson County, Texas, sheriff ’s deputy for not dimming his headlights, an incident filmed by “Live PD.”

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