Nickname Data Help D.C. Police Pursue Criminals

By Allison Klein
Washington Post Staff Writer
Friday, August 17, 2007

For three years, D.C. detectives investigated one killing after another in the Columbia Heights area. When they asked their informants who was responsible, one name kept coming up: "Head."

Head bragged about a shooting. Head was seen kicking over a memorial for one of the victims. Head told people on the block that he was about to kill a witness.

That was just what they needed.

Detectives said they used a little-known database of nicknames to find out that Head was probably Azariah Israel, 32, an ex-convict who had spent time in jail for a gun crime and was already charged in another slaying. They kept working the street and charged him this summer in four more killings.

In a business in which information can be the difference between life and death, D.C. police often turn to specialized databases that keep records of nicknames, tattoos and other identifying features. The nickname database has been increasingly helping investigators solve crimes, especially in neighborhoods where even best friends sometimes don't know each other's real names.

"Almost everybody on the street goes by street names," said Inspector Brian Bray of the narcotics and special investigations unit.

The repository has thousands of entries -- such as Fat Boy, Boo Boo, Meatball, Money Cash, Big Stupid, Butter, P-Funk, Dirt and Ed Lover. Many evoke real or fictional gangsters -- Gotti, Godfather, Corleone.

"If our informant says the gunman's name is Soup, we contact our officers and say, 'You know a guy named Soup?' " Bray said. "If that doesn't work, our database is pretty good. It narrows it down. What does he look like? Where does he live? Then we figure out, yeah, he's the same guy. That's Soup."

D.C. police have been tracking nicknames for decades, typically collecting the names when people are arrested. Years ago, the information was filed on paper, and sifting through the records was cumbersome; now, the process is high-tech and much faster. When investigators get a hit in the database, information about the suspect pops up, usually including height, weight, address and criminal history, as well as a photo.

Problems can arise when an informant identifies a suspect by a common nickname. To guard against picking up the wrong person, detectives check the suspect's physical description and address, pull a photo and go back to their source. The nickname, police said, is a starting point, not the foundation for a criminal prosecution.

"We'll show a photo spread to our informant," Bray said. "If it's the same guy -- boom -- we get an arrest warrant."

Other urban centers such as New York and Los Angeles also collect nicknames. In the Washington region, police in Prince George's and Montgomery counties have nickname and tattoo databases, and in Virginia, investigative teams such as an anti-gang task force use them.

A nickname is often the only lead in a case.

"The majority of the time, our informant doesn't know the real name; they know the street name," said Capt. Mario Patrizio of the D.C police detectives division. "They'll say, 'I saw Jo-Jo on the corner the other day.' "

The man known as Head had been in jail since May 2006, police said. He was awaiting trial on a murder charge in the stabbing of a man near Club U, a Northwest Washington nightclub, in September 2004. He also had been arrested several times on gun and drug charges, so detectives were able to mine the database to confirm that he was known on the street as Head.

They pursued the investigation and got a warrant to charge Israel in the other killings. Police said he killed Pierre D. Johnson, 22, on Oct. 10, 2004, and Norman Jenkins, 20, on Dec. 1, 2005. He also is suspected of opening fire Dec. 9, 2005, on a group of people, hitting five and killing Anthony Blount, 24, and Joshua Gregory, 21.

Israel, who has pleaded not guilty to all of the murder charges, has a hearing in October in D.C. Superior Court. Detectives said they don't know how he got his street name.

Sometimes, investigators said, people use nicknames of affection given to them in childhood by friends and family. Other times, they use the monikers to hide their identity or exaggerate their toughness on the street -- names such as Mean Dog, Hustler, King Pin and Killer are in the police database.

Terri Adams-Fuller, a Howard University criminologist who teaches sociology, said she sees similarities in the street gangster and organized crime cultures.

"The whole sense that this family trumps all other kinds of families," Adams-Fuller said. "It's using a criminal enterprise to state your identification."

Such was the case in the 2004 killing of 14-year-old Jahkema "Princess" Hansen, who was a witness in an upcoming murder trial. The men convicted of shooting her in a D.C. housing complex were Marquette Ward, known as Corleone, for the Mafia family portrayed in the "Godfather" films, and Franklin Thompson, who was called Frank Nitti, for the feared accomplice of Al Capone.

Adams-Fuller said it's common for people to get nicknames as children that they keep their whole lives, even as criminals.

"When people start getting involved in criminal enterprise, it takes on a whole different persona. It's not what their mother and father call them," Adams-Fuller said. "It gives them street credibility. You become a name; you're larger than what you were before."

Nicknames and tattoos also are a central part of gang life.

The Post reviewed 4,000 street names collected by the police department from June 2004 to May 2007. Many entries are common names, such as Mike, Joe and Chris. Others are more distinct, including Dr. Tooth, Iron Maiden, Island Hippie, Orange Crush and Mr. Piggy.

A few nicknames surface often: There are 25 Fats, two Fattys, two Fatboys, one Fat Fat and two Fat Daddys. There are 22 entries for Black, one for Black Elvis, three for Black Jesus and one for Black Rose.

The suspects sometimes give up the names that ultimately lead to their jailing.

For instance, in the case of Country, police sent an undercover officer into a Northeast Washington store to buy $70 worth of heroin in winter 2006, according to police documents. As the officer bought the drugs in the 600 block of Division Avenue, the man who sold it to her introduced himself as Country.

Police soon figured out that Country was Anthony Yelverton, 35, who had a history of heroin arrests. They arrested him. He was convicted of distributing the drug.

Staff researcher Dan Keating contributed to this report.