KEY WITNESSES

Prosecution would have been impossible without two police insiders - William Hames and John Mervolion - agreeing to plead guilty and testify about the gun-planting conspiracy.

"Without their testimony, we would have been left with this huge conspiracy and no one to explain it, " said former Assistant U.S. Attorney Allan Kaiser, who prosecuted the first trial with co-prosecutor Curtis Miner.

"I don't know if we could have done it without them, " he said. "It would have been a rough row to hoe."

By breaking the code of silence, Hames and Mervolion helped prosecutors convict seven of the 11 defendants on charges of conspiring to obstruct justice.

In most cases, it's the word of a cop against that of a civilian, one possibly with a felony conviction.

"The credibility of the witness is very important, " said former Broward prosecutor Ken Padowitz. "The uniform and badge give inherent credibility to many people who sit on a jury.

"But one problem in prosecuting cops is that police officers put their lives on the line every day, so there tends to be a strong fraternity, comraderie, that joins them together against the prosecutor."

In Broward, BSO deputies and employees recently found out for themselves what happens when that code of silence is breached. Isabella, an Oakland Park detective who requested a transfer back to road patrol after serving a brief stint in the detective bureau, was suspended in July without pay - and later recommended for termination - for telling BSO professional compliance investigators that he made up confessions to clear several burglary cases.

Isabella said he was pressured by detectives and supervisors, who told him, "That's how we do it here."

Jordan, another detective, was suspended without pay several days after portions of his sworn statement to the state attorney's office were made public.

Jordan, who was subpoenaed, told prosecutors he pinned five property crimes on a burglary suspect in 2002 because, he said, his supervisor, Sgt. Mike Menghi, ordered him to do so.

Jordan said he did what he had to do and then asked to be transferred back to road patrol.

While he is not facing prosecution, he is facing termination.

"There's a huge price to pay for coming forward and talking, " said Michael Quinn, author of Walking With the Devil: The Police Code of Silence, and a 23-year veteran of the Minneapolis Police Department. "The first guys to talk are the ones that get hurt." Even civilians within a law enforcement agency can find themselves snubbed for speaking out.

IN SIBERIA

John deGroot, a part of Sheriff Ken Jenne's inner circle and often seen by his side, was banished to a cell-like office in the high-security mental health unit at the North Broward detention center in Pompano Beach after his sworn statement to the state attorney's office was made public.

DeGroot, who worked in BSO's administration, told prosecutors that he discussed the reporting problem last year with Deputy Joel Steinberg, who compiled statistics for Powertrac, the agency's accountability system.

A recent survey of law enforcement personnel shows nearly half have witnessed police wrongdoing and have kept quiet about it, said Neal Trautman, a former police officer and director of the National Institute of Ethics.

"Those that do come forward are ostracized, and it's a horrible position to be in, " said Trautman, who has taught training classes at BSO.

"But they're moral heroes because for them to come forward takes a much higher level of courage than physical courage, " he said. "When you come forward, you know the price you are going to pay. It's gut-wrenching."