Trial of APD Officer Will Be One of the Most Consequential in Austin History
Here’s what it could mean for our city and for how law enforcement is held accountable
By Austin Sanders, Fri., Oct. 20, 2023
One of the most consequential trials in Austin history began this week, as attorneys spent hours selecting the jurors that will decide the future of Christopher Taylor, an Austin police officer who stands accused of first-degree murder for fatally shooting, while on duty, Michael Ramos three years ago.
The trial is one that – regardless of the verdict – will make waves locally, statewide, and across the nation. Locally, because mere hours after Taylor fatally shot Ramos in the parking lot of the Rosemont Apartment complex located at 2601 S. Pleasant Valley, on April 24, 2020, cellphone footage of the incident recorded by bystanders began to spread on social media. Then, the demonstrations against police brutality began.
A month later, when Minneapolis cop Derek Chauvin killed George Floyd and protests against police violence swept the nation, outrage in Austin sparked by Ramos' death swelled into a broad movement for justice that resulted in some of the most substantive change to municipal policing seen in any city that experienced unrest that summer. Taylor's trial, whether it ends in a guilty verdict or acquittal, will shed light on the tragic episode that incited the largest, most concerted effort against police violence in Austin's history.
Because prosecutions of police officers for on-duty murder are so rare – there have been just a handful in Texas, and Taylor's appears to be the first in Austin's history – the case law around these types of cases is relatively thin. As a result, motions filed by the state or the defense and decisions issued by District Judge Dayna Blazey could set new legal precedent for how law enforcement officers are prosecuted for alleged criminal use-of-force cases in the future. In Travis County alone, nearly two dozen officers are under indictment and awaiting trial for on-duty use of force (one of them is Taylor, who, along with another officer, was indicted on a separate murder charge for killing Mauris DeSilva in the line of duty in 2019; Taylor's defense counsel, Doug O'Connell and Ken Ervin, are also representing a number of the other officers under indictment). Attorneys in the Taylor trial will not just be weighing how their court maneuvers will impact the case in front of them, but how they may affect cases against law enforcement throughout the state as well.
And the trial could have national implications, too. Travis County District Attorney José Garza has his Civil Rights Unit prosecuting the case (led by Dexter Gillford with an assist from former Travis County prosecutor Gary Cobb, who is a legend among local attorneys). Garza is at the forefront of the progressive prosecutor movement, which has spread throughout the nation. Progressive prosecutors have campaigned – and, in cities like Philadelphia, Orlando, and Minneapolis, have won – on platforms that promise to use the broad discretion given to prosecutors in the American justice system to shift the paradigm on what crimes should be prioritized. They promote fewer prosecutions of minor drug offenses to reduce mass incarceration, for example, and more prosecutions of law enforcement officers accused of excessive violence to hold government actors accountable.
The Taylor trial will be watched closely by progressive prosecutors in other cities, who may have their own cases against law enforcement to consider. They'll pay attention to the legal maneuvers deployed by attorneys on either side, but also to how the jury responds.
And someone else will be watching: Ramos' mother, Brenda. "Mike was the sweetest person," Ramos said in a statement before jury selection in the trial began. "He made everyone laugh. And he was such a loving son. I miss him every day. His killing left a hole in my heart that I will always carry with me. I would like to express my deep gratitude and appreciation for the condolences and sympathy I've received from family, friends, and the community."
Scott Hendler, one of the attorneys representing Ramos in the civil lawsuit against the city she filed over her son's killing, added that his client hopes Taylor is "held accountable" and that it will "prevent [Taylor] who shot and killed two people, from killing someone else's child."
The Twelve Who Will Decide
Jury selection is an incredibly important part of any trial, but it will play an outsized role in the Taylor trial. "Any experienced trial attorney will agree that voir dire is already the important part of the trial," Jorge Vela, a practicing criminal defense attorney in Austin who formerly served as a Travis County assistant district attorney and assistant U.S. attorney in the Southern District of Texas, told the Chronicle. "But it's going to be especially important in this trial because it is such a polarizing case and many people already have an opinion on it, especially after the events that led to the mistrial decision."
Vela is referring to the series of events in May, when the Taylor trial began for the first time, that resulted in Blazey declaring a mistrial. On the first day of jury selection, the courtroom doors were locked and members of the public (including this journalist) were improperly barred from entering – a potential violation of Taylor's constitutional right to an open trial. Later during jury selection, fliers about Ramos' death were placed on the vehicles of three jurors, prompting Taylor's defense attorneys to allege jury tampering (an investigation by the Travis County Sheriff's Office has been suspended because no suspect could be identified).
Ultimately, because of these problems and other challenges (some of which are standard in criminal trials, like each side being able to "strike" 10 jurors they think will not be impartial in the trial), they were just two alternates short of a full jury, and Blazey called a mistrial in June. But jury selection resumed Monday, Oct. 16, with a new strategy in place. Three panels of 100 potential jurors each would be summoned across three days, with attorneys on both sides given two hours to question each panel.
As it turns out, only one panel and one day was needed to seat a jury. Close to 100 of the individuals responded to their jury summons Oct. 16. After a long day of questioning from Cobb, representing the state, and O'Connell and Ervin, representing Taylor, both parties agreed on 12 members of the jury and four alternates to serve as backups in case one of the full members has to drop out of the trial.
With a jury set, the evidence portion of the trial is set to begin with opening arguments on Monday, Oct. 23. From there, the trial will be held Monday-Friday, starting at 9am each day and ending at 5pm; members of the public interested in watching the proceedings will be able to do so, in person, at the Blackwell-Thurman Criminal Justice Center.
The Facts of the Case
At around 6:30pm on April 24, 2020, a person called 911 to report that two people – Ramos and his girlfriend – were sitting in a Toyota Prius "smoking crack and cooking meth" and that, at one point, Ramos had a gun pointed at his girlfriend. From what we can tell, neither claim turned out to be true (officers found no gun in the vehicle), but because of what the caller reported, at least some of the eight officers who responded thought Ramos was armed.
A critical incident video produced by the Austin Police Department and the Office of Police Oversight, released three months after the shooting, shows what happened that April day. Before confronting Ramos, the officers strategize over their plan. When they finally do confront him, a familiar scene plays out. With guns drawn, the officers begin shouting orders at Ramos, who appears confused at what is happening but quickly complies. "What the fuck is going on?" the 42-year-old man, who was Black and Hispanic, says at one point, while raising his hands in the air and attempting to explain that he is unarmed. "I can't explain it right now, Michael," one officer responds, while others continue to shout orders.
After this back-and-forth plays out, an officer can be heard saying, "Impact him," which prompts another officer, Mitchell Pieper – who was still in the post-Academy field training program – to shoot Ramos with a lead-pellet round. After Ramos is hit, he falls back into the Prius and, after a few moments as officers continue shouting, he begins to drive, slowly, in a direction that appears to be away from the officers. As Ramos drives away, Taylor fires three times, killing the man.
Austin Police Association President Thomas Villarreal described the shooting as an "extremely tragic" and "heartbreaking" situation. "I can feel for the family of Mike Ramos," Villarreal told us. "I can have empathy in my heart for the loss their family is living with and, at the same time, understand, know, and believe why Officer Taylor took the actions he took. I stand firmly behind Officer Taylor and his decision to use force."
In some ways, criminal prosecutions against police officers for violence in the line of duty are no different than prosecutions against civilians for the same category of crime. Whether prosecuting a police officer or civilian for murder, prosecutors must prove their case "beyond a reasonable doubt" when trying to persuade a jury that the defendant is guilty of the alleged crime. Officers charged with any violent crime, even murder, are also held to the same legal standards as civilians charged with the same crime, as outlined in the Texas Penal Code.
Police as criminal defendants have access to the same legal justifications (like self-defense, defense of others, or defense of property), and those justifications have the same legal limitations for officers as they do for civilians. Chapter 9 of the Penal Code deems use of deadly force as justified in protecting one's own life, or the life of a third person, "when and to the degree" an individual "reasonably believes the force is immediately necessary to protect the actor against the other's use or attempted use of unlawful force." (The Penal Code does include specific justifications for law enforcement officers using deadly force during the course of an arrest, but that defense is likely unavailable to Taylor in this case because officers were not attempting to arrest Ramos when he was shot and killed.)
To secure a guilty verdict, prosecutors will have to convince the jury that Ramos' action did not pose a serious enough threat to Taylor or his fellow officers to warrant the use of deadly force. Outside the facts of the case, that task may prove difficult for prosecutors due to what one expert called the "atmospherics" of trials involving police officers accused of criminal conduct through the normal course of their duty (i.e., responding to a 911 call where the caller said the person was armed, as was the case with Ramos, versus a police officer accused of assaulting someone while off duty).
"It's tended to be the case that police officers, even as defendants, enjoy a level of presumption of credibility that the average non-police suspect doesn't in the mind of the public," Jennifer Laurin, a University of Texas Law professor, told us. Members of the public also tend to presume that criminal defendants on trial are guilty, Laurin continued, because criminal defendants tend to be poor, people of color, or otherwise belonging to marginalized groups. It's the reverse for police.
That presumption of credibility may factor into how jurors respond to testimony offered by Taylor's fellow officers on the witness stand. It is unknown if Taylor himself will testify (he of course does not have to, and a key strategy during jury selection for the defense will be selecting jurors who will not hold it against Taylor if he invokes his constitutionally protected right to not testify against himself). But some of the officers who responded to the 911 call that led to Ramos' death have been subpoenaed, and they may take the witness stand. If those officers testify that they felt under threat and that Taylor's use of force was justified, how will cultural perceptions around police credibility impact the way that testimony lands with jurors?
It could go either way, as revealed by questioning during jury selection. Some jurors may think officers are providing testimony they think will be beneficial to Taylor's defense (refusing to cross what is commonly referred to as the "blue wall of silence") and others may think that officers testifying to the justified nature of Taylor's use of force are doing so because they are presumed to be professionals speaking honestly about their work, which can be dangerous and, at times, life-threatening.
Political, but Not a Political Prosecution
Laurin pointed to the "political valence" of the trial as another factor that sets prosecution of law enforcement apart from criminal trials involving civilians. Though the Taylor case, like any murder, is tragic on a human level, it also possesses political dimensions that expand its meaning beyond the interpersonal. The alleged murder in question helped spark a protest movement in Austin and it likely contributed to Garza's commanding 2020 election victory over then-incumbent D.A. Margaret Moore in the Democratic primary run-off, which was held a little over two months after Ramos was killed.
Consider Garza's campaign commitment to bring every case of police violence before a grand jury. Or a statement made by Garza, on the cusp of his election in November 2020, that he was "prepared to fight" for the families of victims of police violence as they awaited justice. Garza opponents have attempted to characterize the campaign promise and the statement as reflective of the D.A.'s intent to persecute cops – not prosecute them for alleged criminal violence as civilians are prosecuted for similar crimes.
For someone like Chris Harris, policy director at the Austin Justice Coalition and a leading figure in the broader criminal justice movement in Austin, Garza's commitment to bring every case of police violence to grand jury – and that in about 20 of those cases, grand juries have decided the cases should proceed to trial – represents a way of achieving police accountability in a community where there is not really another way of meaningfully holding officers to account (i.e., through on-the-job discipline).
"I don't have faith that the prosecution here will serve as a deterrent [to police misconduct] any more than the prosecution of most offenses deter people from engaging in other activities," Harris told us. "But we have no other functioning systems of accountability as a community. No venue to thoroughly investigate misconduct, unearth facts for the public, and discipline officers on the job. The criminal court system is our proxy to do that."
But for Villarreal, Garza's commitment to holding police officers to account when they are accused of committing violent criminal acts – and his statement about the Ramos family, specifically – reflects political motivation more than a commitment to fair justice. "The D.A. sparked an interest in this case years ago and made promises prior to having any knowledge or facts of the case," Villarreal said. "That clouds what's actually going on here."
Laurin, however, suggests a different view – one that positions Garza's priorities as D.A. as the result of democratic expression. "In our criminal legal system, we elect prosecutors," Laurin said. "Conventionally, we view that as a feature of the system, not as a bug. It generates local accountability for actors using the incredibly powerful tools of criminal prosecution that, if used improperly, are tools of oppression and, when used properly, are a collective form of democratic expression."
The fact that Garza – or any prosecutor – states an intention to prioritize certain classes of offenses over others, when facts exist to support prosecution of those offenses, "is not an illegitimate politicization of criminal prosecution in our system," Laurin added. "Not any more than if the elected D.A. ran on a campaign of going after drug dealers or stepping up property crime prosecutions."
The key is that, whatever class of criminal offense a prosecutor chooses to prioritize – whether that be minor drug offenses or police violence – the facts of the case, at every stage of prosecution, must be considered in a fair-minded way.
"The community can decide police violence is a category of crime that has been neglected and that should be prioritized," Laurin continued. "But the community must also ensure that defendants in those cases have every right to demand their individual guilt be established and that prosecutors prove their case beyond a reasonable doubt."
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