Nation: Diamond Don v. County Mounty

The sheriff loses the showdown

“I might go down in history as a legend—the biggest high roller ever to be a respected cop.” So boasted Donald (“Diamond Don”) Gilman, 47, in March 1977 when he was appointed sheriff of Indianapolis. Stocky and balding, Gilman is a high school dropout who claims to have become a millionaire from operating four local health spas. He is noted for his huge roll of banknotes, flashy cars and ostentatious jewelry. He brags about his junkets to Las Vegas, including gambling losses of $30,000 during one weekend.

After Sheriff Lawrence Broderick was killed in an auto accident, county commissioners named Gilman to fill the remaining 21 months of Broderick’s term.

The job is a plum: on top of a $20,750 salary, the sheriff by law gets 10% of the delinquent taxes that he collects—an annual windfall of about $100,000.

Gilman sold his health spas, stopped his gambling and won high marks from some constituents for improving the department’s efficiency. He increased arrests and cut the county’s crime rate.

But Gilman also made serious trouble for himself. It started a year ago, after the murder of wealthy, reclusive Grocery Store Heiress Marjorie Jackson. When the FBI arrested two suspects in Phoenix, Gilman flew to Arizona to interview them.

But the FBI refused to let him see the prisoners because they did not yet have defense attorneys. In revenge, Gilman ordered that 35 prisoners being held on federal charges in the county jail be moved to other institutions. This upset many constituents because the U.S. Government had been paying the county $16.50 a day for the prisoners’ keep. After 2½ months of sulking, Gilman took them back.

Then he got embroiled in a scandal involving the county’s 850 special deputies—mostly retired policemen, private security guards and cronies of local politicians. Special deputies can carry guns and make arrests and usually work as guards in schools and businesses or as police auxiliaries in the suburbs. In March, after a drunken special deputy was killed in a shootout with state police, reporters for the Indianapolis Star started investigating. When Gilman refused to tell them his special deputies’ names, the Star began referring to them as his “secret police.” In response, Gilman revoked all the special deputies’ powers. Said County Prosecutor James Kelley: “It was immature and childish.” Gilman eventually reconsidered and swore in 73 new deputies and reinstated 450 others. He also made public all of his deputies’ names.

But by then, time was running out for Diamond Don. He lost the backing of the Indianapolis area’s Democratic machine, and nine candidates ran against him in last week’s Democratic primary. Gilman was defeated, 13,248 votes to 4,466, by James Wells, 44, a 21-year veteran of the sheriffs department. Wells is known locally as the “County Mounty,” the nickname he has used during eleven years of broadcasting highway traffic reports on the radio. Said Gilman: “I just wanted to give the taxpayers what they pay for. But good guys finish last.”