Authors: Jeff Benedict,Don Yaeger
Francies-Siedow later discovered the case while searching, with the assistance of a court records clerk, through files that had been archived. “It’s conceivable that we are only scratching the surface when turning up these cases involving NFL players,” explained Francies-Siedow. “If you’re a criminal in L.A., and clearly some of these players were, there’s a good chance that there’s little record of it if the case is more than five years old. There are simply too many crimes and too little storage space for keeping old records at the courthouses. So a lot of records are purged after five years. The rest is put on microfiche and those records are incomplete and sparse at best.”
I
n an attempt to see just how far teams will go to overlook a player’s juvenile criminal record, the authors went north to Seattle. Since Washington state law allows public access to juvenile criminal case files, the authors selected Seattle native Corey Dillon, a second-round draft choice in 1997 and the AFC Rookie of the Year, as a case study. Our discoveries convinced us that if the Corey Dillon case is any indication: 1) the popular press is barely scratching the surface in reporting on the criminal backgrounds of players who are entering the NFL, and 2) NFL teams are severely minimizing the prior bad acts of players when explaining their draft choices to the press and the fans.
Cinergy Field, Cincinnati, Ohio, December 4, 1997
“Corey … Corey … Corey,” 49,000 Bengals fans cheered with two minutes remaining and Cincinnati leading the Oilers, 41–14. Boomer Esiason handed the ball off to rookie running back Corey Dillon, who plowed for ten yards, breaking Jim Brown’s 1957 rookie record for yards rushed in a game. Most fans watching the game on TNT had never heard of Corey Dillon. Few would forget how he rumbled over the Oilers’ third-ranked defense for 246 yards on thirty-nine carries and scored four touchdowns, breaking or tying six Bengals team records.
While Dillon’s “coming out” performance dazzled those who witnessed it, the Bengals’ brass were well aware of their rookie back’s capabilities. In Dillon’s only season of Division I-A football at the University of Washington, he broke school records in rushing yards (1,555), carries (271), touchdowns (23), all-purpose yards (2,185), and scoring (138 points)—
and he started only eight games.
Knowing this, Cincinnati almost took him in the first round. When he was still on the board when their second-round pick came up, Bengals management knew they had a steal. Originally slated to back up Ki-Jana Carter, the first pick overall in the 1995 draft, Dillon had earned the starting position halfway through his rookie season. He finished the year with 1,129 yards rushing on 233 carries and scored ten touchdowns. Impressive statistics by anyone’s standards, Dillon’s numbers were largely compiled in the second half of the year. After carrying the ball only forty times through the first eight regular-season games, Dillon piled up 933 rushing yards in his final eight starts.
NFL scouts who saw Dillon run at the University of Washington had little doubt that he was a big-time player. With such remarkable potential, the question was how such a gifted runner was still available at the forty-third pick. Answer: he had a long and distinguished criminal record.
Given that Lawrence Phillips was picked sixth overall despite a far more notorious criminal background, there’s obviously more to the story, however. Especially since Dillon’s past transgressions, unlike Phillips’s, were hardly known to the press.
While a prior history of crime will not prevent a player from getting drafted, certain types of offenses more than others may affect
where
in the draft a player is picked. Such was the case with Phillips and Dillon.
While in college, Phillips had pleaded guilty to assaulting his ex-girlfriend. Savage as the beating was, Phillips went high. Coaches seemingly don’t view domestic violence as a distraction to a player’s on-field performance. And in their own way of thinking, they’re right. To date, there is no evidence that guys who beat their wives or girlfriends are any less capable of showing up on Sunday and beating their opponents.
On the other hand, Dillon, whose record also includes a conviction for a violent incident involving an ex-girlfriend and a conviction for assaulting a woman, was linked to something that the NFL views as a far greater threat to its commercial reputation—drug dealing.
During Dillon’s only season at the University of Washington,
Seattle Times
writer Percy Allen reported that Dillon got into “fights and mischief” as a juvenile, hardly the kind of thing that would scare off NFL teams. Allen’s article, nevertheless, also revealed that Dillon “once was arrested for selling narcotics.” However, the report did not specify what type of narcotics, nor did it indicate whether Dillon was ever convicted.
After the Bengals selected Dillon, Allen’s article spurred Cincinnati reporters to question the team about Dillon’s past. “He did have the juvenile record,” Bengals first-year special teams coach Al Roberts told the
Cincinnati Post.
“He did not sell crack cocaine. That is poor information.”
Roberts should know. Another Seattle native, Roberts was Dillon’s running backs coach at the University of Washington. Further, his son played against Dillon in high school. “I assumed the role of a surrogate father to Corey at Washington,” said Roberts in an exclusive interview. “I took him under my wing. Corey came in nice and soft, and he took me on as a dear friend or father figure. And he needed help and I needed to help him.”
Within a week of Dillon announcing after his junior season that he was leaving school to enter the draft, Roberts likewise announced he was leaving the team. A seasoned NFL assistant coach who, prior to his brief stint with the Huskies, had coached in Philadelphia, Houston, Phoenix, and New York, Roberts accepted an offer from Bengals head coach Bruce Coslet to coach Cincinnati’s special teams. Roberts had previously coached under Coslet with the Jets.
Once on staff, it was Roberts who convinced the Bengals to use their second-round pick on Dillon. “I did not think Corey would be available in the second round because he’s a big-time running back,” Roberts explained. “When our pick came up at forty-three, [Bengals team president] Mike Brown looked at me and I said, ‘Take him.’ He said, ‘What do you think?’ I said, ‘Take him.’ We discussed all the other problems, I said, ‘Mike,
take him.’
And we took him. I didn’t think Mike was going to do what he did. He just handed it over and said, ‘Dillon. Washington.’”
A respected coach with an uncanny interest in the off-the-field well-being of his players, Roberts took the lead role in downplaying to the Cincinnati press corps some of the charges levied against Dillon in the
Seattle Times
article.
“I asked Roberts about the troubles Dillon had in the past,” explained
Cincinnati Post
writer Todd Archer in an interview for this book. “But Dillon had denied any of the drug stuff, and we didn’t push it too far.”
After both Roberts and Dillon refuted the
Seattle Times
story, Archer, like the rest of the Cincinnati press, reported that Dillon’s past included “juvenile offenses.” Archer also wrote that, “Dillon told the
Times
he did not sell drugs.”
So let’s get this straight: a Seattle writer reports a drug case in Dillon’s past; the Cincinnati writers catch wind of this and confront the Bengals about the report; and the Bengals go on record denying the charge. Simple enough. Case closed.
Not so fast. In the same article where Roberts was quoted denying the drug charge, Archer also quoted him as saying: “When you look at Corey Dillon and the Bengals, this fits. Cincinnati is great for him. I’m glad he’s here and not in L.A., Chicago, or New York. When a young kid is trying to be born again, this is a great place to be.”
Sounds like Roberts knew a little more about Dillon than he was telling the Bengals’ beat writers.
As it turns out, he did. Not only did Roberts have extensive firsthand knowledge of Dillon from college and high school, but Bengals running backs coach Jim Anderson had traveled to Seattle before the draft and conducted his own thorough investigation into Dillon’s past. “Jim Anderson knew all there was to know about Corey Dillon,” explained Roberts in an interview for this book. “He had done all the reporting on all his behavior on field and off the field. Jim Anderson had gone to the ‘hood of Seattle to find out about him. So he knew all the information that I had known. He got records from the high school. He went to the police stations. Some things he couldn’t get ahold of because Corey was under age at the time. But he talked to the kids around the neighborhood.
“And Jim’s report was that there were some early childhood things, but that all the other people hadn’t had any hassles with him. So Jim was more than willing to draft him. His exact words were, ‘He’s the real deal physically and we should take a chance on him.’ This kid was an okay kid. And it’s not taking that big of a chance because the kid hadn’t gotten in any trouble lately. I mean, he had little ruffles on the edge and he needed some smoothing out like all kids do, but he hadn’t got into any of that drug-related stuff lately.”
Lately?
In an attempt to learn what the Bengals knew but weren’t saying, the authors spent a week in Seattle interviewing law enforcement officials, court officers, and criminal records managers. Most of the time, however, was spent culling through files and digging through archives at four courthouses (the City of Seattle Municipal Court, the Seattle District Court, the Seattle Superior Court, and the King County Juvenile Court).
At the municipal court, which handles misdemeanors and traffic violations committed within the city itself, a records supervisor confirmed that Dillon had five cases on file, three of which were driving offenses. The files for the two nontraffic cases included a May 21, 1994, charge in a four-count case that included reckless endangerment and resisting arrest (both of which were dropped as part of a plea bargain), assault (which he pleaded guilty to and was issued a “no contact order” against the victim), and obstructing a public officer, to which he pleaded guilty. The file also included a June 13, 1994, charge of theft. The case was later dismissed on condition that Dillon refrain from further violating the law.
The district court, which handles all misdemeanors committed in King County (other than those committed within the city proper) contained no records on Corey Dillon.
The superior court, which handles all felonies committed in King County, had one case on file against Dillon. On September 21, 1992, he was indicted for second-degree malicious mischief. Michelle Reed, a former girlfriend of Dillon’s, reported to police that on June 8, 1992, Dillon confronted her and some friends after she drove into an AM/PM gas station to fill up just after midnight. According to a letter Reed wrote to the court dated June 9, 1992, Dillon came up to her car and began berating Reed and her girlfriends who were in her car. Referring to them as “bitches,” Dillon started an argument with Reed. When she called him “bitch” back, Dillon opened the driver’s side door and threatened her.
“What, what,” he said, challenging her.
“I didn’t ever say anything,’ Reed replied in fear.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”
Dillon then vandalized the car while the girls were inside it. More than $700 damage was done before Dillon stopped and threatened to throw a rock at them.
The charge was ultimately reduced to third-degree felony malicious mischief and Dillon was sentenced to perform community service, undergo counseling, attend anger management classes, and pay restitution to his ex-girlfriend’s mother, the owner of the car.
D
espite our discovering that Dillon had numerous misdemeanor cases and a felony case on his record, none of the three Seattle courts turned up any evidence that Dillon was ever involved in an illegal drug transaction. However, juvenile offenses are generally not kept in any of the three adult court databanks. In a meeting with a records clerk at the juvenile court, the authors discovered that for up to six years after a juvenile becomes adult, any information on file pertaining to juvenile crimes was public record—if one wanted to take the time to look through reels of microfiche.
A computer search of the juvenile court database proved that the Bengals were right about one thing: Dillon “did have a juvenile record.” That was putting it mildly. His name showed up in the system eleven times between 1987 and 1992.
But claims that the
Seattle Times
report on Dillon’s drug arrest “was bad information” turned out to be
bad information.
Not only was Dillon charged with a felony for selling drugs as a juvenile, he was convicted—and that was just the beginning. Below is a sampling of the entries as they appeared in Dillon’s juvenile case file:
December 7, 1987, indicted on the charge of possessing stolen property.
December 5, 1988, indicted on the charge of theft in the third degree.
February 13, 1989, indicted on the charge of violating the uniform controlled substance act (selling drugs to an undercover cop).
April 21, 1989, indicted on a charge of fourth-degree assault.
January 11, 1990, indicted on charges of reckless endangerment by “recklessly engag[ing] in conduct which did create a substantial risk of death or serious physical injury to another person,” and obstructing a public servant.
July 31, 1990, indicted on charges of obstructing a public servant and resisting arrest.
March 23, 1992, indicted on two counts of assault in the fourth degree and one count of criminal trespass in the fourth degree.
June 6, 1992, indicted on a charge of malicious mischief in the third degree.
The outcomes of most of these cases are detailed below.
According to the indictment contained on reel No. S8236, Dillon “on or about 11 February 1989, unlawfully and feloniously did have in his possession with intent to manufacture or deliver a certain controlled substance, and a narcotic drug, to-wit: cocaine.” Court records confirm the following: