REPORTS OF BEATINGS PUT FOCUS ON TWIN TOWERS.

Byline: Amanda Covarrubias Associated Press 

Nancy Canzoneri drove to the sleek, new jail on the edge of downtown one Monday morning to visit her boyfriend, Danny Ray Smith, a convicted drug addict who was awaiting a court hearing for carrying a gun.

When Canzoneri approached the front desk at the imposing Twin Towers Correctional Facility, she was told Smith had died in a brawl with deputies two days earlier. Shocked by his death and angry they weren't told about it, Canzoneri and the inmate's family hired a lawyer to get some answers.

Since the Aug. 1 incident, another reported inmate beating has surfaced at Twin Towers - this time at the hands of a ``posse'' of renegade deputies - prompting the FBI to investigate the jail.

And last year, the lockup was cited by the U.S. Department of Justice for civil rights violations in its treatment of mentally ill inmates.

Twin Towers is one of the most advanced municipal jails in America. Completed last year for $373 million, the high-rise, high-tech center is spare, almost antiseptic inside. Unlike most jails, there is no stench.

Its 4,500 male and female inmates reside in cells with windows - many with city views. There are no bars; each cell has a metal door that slides open and shut electronically. Each door has a Plexiglas window.

So what's the trouble with Twin Towers?

Critics claim the beating allegations reflect a nonchalant attitude toward inmates among the top brass of the Los Angeles County Sheriff's Department, responsible for running the nation's largest municipal jail system.

``Police think they have a license to brutalize in the name of law and order,'' said James Lafferty, president of the local branch of the National Lawyers Guild and frequent critic of the department. ``But innocent people are being hurt and killed and brutalized.''

Lafferty and others insist such abuse by L.A. deputies is rampant - and not just at Twin Towers. The only reason it is getting attention now, they say, is because inmates who witnessed Smith's brawl contacted a civil rights organization, which went public with the allegations.

``It got out to the press as soon as it happened,'' said Leo Terrell, the Smith family's lawyer, noting the public doesn't usually get ``the full story'' for several months. ``Then they say, So what? They deserved it. But people have to remember, everyone in jail is not guilty.''

In 1997, the Sheriff's Department paid $5.5 million in settlements for police misconduct, according to Merrick Bobb, who monitors the department for the county Board of Supervisors. The four most expensive settlements, costing a combined $2.1 million, involved excessive force.

Prisoner brutality has become an issue in the Nov. 3 election as former sheriff's Chief Lee Baca tries to unseat incumbent Sheriff Sherman Block, who has led the nation's third-largest law enforcement agency for 16 years.

In a recent debate, Baca said he believes the violence stems from understaffing, overcrowding and lack of training among newer deputies. Block said he stands behind his deputies, pending their investigations.

The fatal Smith brawl apparently began when the African-American inmate protested that his cell mate was Latino and not African-American.

Officials said at first that Smith was not handcuffed during the altercation. Later they changed their story and admitted Smith's hands had been restrained.

The county coroner ruled his death a homicide because he was forced to the ground and held in a position where he probably suffocated. He also suffered brain swelling, wounds from a blunt object and a spinal cord fracture. Although the Coroner's Office said Smith's existing heart condition caused him to die, Terrell said the findings prove deputies beat Smith to death.

``There is an attempt to cover up the case,'' said the lawyer, who has filed a $65 million civil lawsuit against the department on behalf of the family.

Three of the deputies involved have been reassigned to other jobs during the investigation, Block said.

In the Twin Towers ``posse'' incident, which occurred Aug. 10, an inmate in the mental ward was beaten so severely that flashlight marks and boot prints were left on his body, fellow inmates said.

The perpetrators were a group of rogue deputies who believed mentally ill inmates were being coddled by the system, Block revealed later.

Deputies with less than two years experience made up the posse, Block said. Uninvolved deputies have said there were 12 to 14 members. But so far only seven deputies and a custody assistant have been relieved of their duties while an investigation is under way.

Sheriff's officials have never revealed the inmate's identity.