By Allan Lengel
Washington Post Staff Writer
Thursday, October 19, 2006
Cars honked, sirens sounded and couples strolled in the darkness of Dupont Circle as Joe, a homeless Texan with a bushy beard and a knee-length trench coat, lamented his fate and the death of Precious.
"This isn't about me, it's about her. I did not want this," said Joe, 49, who agreed to be interviewed only if his full name was not used. "I wanted to be a private personality. I'm going through an adjustment. My life has changed."
It has been six weeks since a U.S. Park Police officer shot and killed Joe's beloved dog in Dupont Circle, triggering an outcry from dog lovers, an outpouring of concern for Joe and an investigation by the Interior Department, which oversees the Park Police.
Precious, a white short-haired pit bull, was shot in the core of the trendy neighborhood on a day that already had the markings of a sad one. It was Sept. 11, the fifth anniversary of the terrorist attacks.
Police and some witnesses said the dog charged at the officer, brandishing its teeth, after the officer yelled for Joe to put Precious on a leash. A preliminary investigation by the Park Police concluded that the officer used justifiable force, and the Washington Humane Society "found no evidence of wrongdoing."
Joe and others disagreed. One witness questioned whether the dog ran directly at the officer. The Humane Society of the United States, which is independent of the Washington group, initially said that "lethal force was completely unnecessary," but later tempered those remarks, saying that it wanted more information before reaching a conclusion.
In a town where homicides often get fleeting mention and politicians dominate the headlines, the shooting of Precious brought an unusual outpouring of concern and put Joe in an unfamiliar position: center stage.
"There was an outpouring of sympathy, of empathy," said Joe, who received donations from strangers and accepted the offer of the Heavenly Days Animal Crematory in Rockville to take care of the dog's remains.
"I am just in awe," he said. "I've been loved. I have never experienced such an outpouring of support."
In discussing his life, Joe skimps on details. When he was a child, he said, his family moved frequently around Texas.
Somewhere along the line, according to a 1991 newspaper account, he lived in Florida, got married and had two children, a boy and a girl. He later divorced.
He worked for a locksmith, he worked for a septic tank company, and he ended up on a spiritual path.
In 2001, the Austin American-Statesman said Joe had been on a national tour of city councils for three years, promoting silent prayer and the Pledge of Allegiance in schools as a means of reducing crime.
Over the years, Joe said, people gave him their beat-up cars and money. He ended up "in and out" of Washington, pushing prayer and the pledge.
"I'd given up on people," he said. "That's why I've gotten into causes."
Two years ago, he found Precious while visiting his brother in the Dallas area. The brother had tenants who had left behind a malnourished white dog.
"I protected that like my baby," Joe said.
Last year, Joe got into trouble in Maine, according to the Bangor Daily News. Workers at a Wal-Mart in the town of Brewer restrained him, believing that he was making off with $40 worth of goods.
Joe was arrested, and police tried to remove two dogs from his car. One of the animals, described as a pit bull, bit the pole that police used to try to capture it, the paper reported. Officers eventually used a Taser gun to temporarily incapacitate the dog -- Precious. A judge later found no probable cause to pursue the case against Joe.
Joe said the incident at Wal-Mart "was a misunderstanding." He said authorities returned Precious, but his other dog was adopted out.
He eventually returned to Washington with Precious. He hung out in Dupont Circle, near the fountain in the park's center, with other street people. Some grew to love Precious, whom they considered harmless.
Dupont Circle became home. At bedtime, Joe and Precious would wander off to a secret spot. Sometimes they slept in Joe's car -- before it broke down.
"Hotel rates here are in the hundreds," he said. "I could have made it in a small city. I quit asking people to stay at their place."
During the days and sometimes into the darkness, he preached and created signs about the Lord and reducing crime through prayer. Sometimes he gave another man beer money to watch Precious while he went off to preach outside the White House. When he took a train out of town, he said, he sometimes snuck Precious aboard by pretending she was his seeing-eye dog.
Over time, Joe developed an appreciation for his homeless comrades in Dupont Circle.
"I see the homeless helping the homeless," he said. "It's really amazing to me," to see a guy give away his last dollar. "It develops a different character. I like them better than the average churchgoer, no offense."
The admiration is mutual.
"Joe is sincere," said Bill Maggi, 45, a Massachusetts native who said he has been living around the Dupont Circle park while waiting to get enough money to return home. "He's intelligent, slightly delusional. He's just genuine. He's very kind. He doesn't have the classic symptoms of a homeless person. He's not an alcoholic. He's not a drug-addicted person.
"He's very much a big fish in this sea of homeless," Maggi said.
After the shooting, Joe said, the admiration in the park became a bit much. "Some of these guys will take a bullet for me," he said. "That's scary."
On Sept. 11, Joe was in the park shortly before 6 p.m., listening to the news on his headphones. Precious was chasing squirrels.
A Park Police officer saw the dog and yelled for Joe to put her on a leash. Joe says he didn't hear him.
Then, according to the officer's report, the dog ran toward him at "what appeared to be full speed." After the shooting, the officer wrote that Joe said, "It's my fault; I should have had the dog on a leash."
Yellow police tape went up. Crowds gathered. A television crew arrived.
Joe began sobbing. "She's gone now. She's dead. She's dead," he said after the Washington Humane Society removed the dog's body from the sidewalk.
Members of the U.S. Humane Society, who happened to be at the scene, said the officer should have used nonlethal force. A woman who saw the dog only at the last second said it wasn't moving when the officer fired his gun.
A second witness, Sally Montgomery, who was walking through the park after work, said she thought the officer had drawn his gun and walked toward Precious, who was running in circles.
She said the dog then started running in the general direction of the officer. "I didn't think he was coming directly at him. This looked like the dog was playing," Montgomery said. She said she saw only the back of the dog and could not see whether it was baring its teeth.
Lt. Scott Fear, a Park Police spokesman, said witnesses told police that the dog charged at the officer. That report was backed up by two witnesses questioned by WUSA Channel-9 News, including one who said Precious came at the officer "with a beeline, I mean ready to attack.''
The inspector general's office of the Interior Department is investigating the matter and declined to comment on the case.
Joe said he's not sure what happened but nonetheless is convinced that the officer went too far. "He messed up and he's stuck with it," Joe said. "Everyone is going to have to take sides on this, from the White House on down."
Isaiah Jackson, 21, who hangs out in the park and was a big fan of Precious, said Joe is still taking the dog's death very hard.
"He hasn't been the same," Jackson said. "He doesn't seem whole anymore. . . . He kind of mopes around."
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