By Jim Schutze
By Rachel Watts
By Lauren Drewes Daniels
By Anna Merlan
By Lee Escobedo
The woman, now a Lewisville police officer like Clark, asked not to have her name used because she fears what Lucas might do to her.
"I don't know how much power Weldon has. I really don't. From what I hear and from what I've seen, he has a lot of power...I love my job now, and I love the place I work. I don't want anything to happen."
Lucas says he tries his best to attract minorities and women to the front-line jobs but has had little luck because his jobs don't pay enough compared with other law enforcement agencies in the area. (Lucas, apparently, is not alone in his problems finding qualified minority deputies. Collin County, which has about the same sized population as Denton County, employs four black women and one black man in a 150-member department, a human resources director there says.)
In his defense, Lucas points to the number of high-ranking black men working in the jail.
"There's captains in the jail; there's lieutenants in the jail...To my knowledge, I have not had a black applicant for our patrol. Why would you apply for our patrol when you can make $5,000 or $6,000 more in Flower Mound? You'd be a fool.
"I promote out of the jail. To my knowledge, we have not had an applicant that is a certified police officer apply out of the jail in three or four years. I look for minorities of all types. Asians, anything. We solicit them, but we can't get them. We're trying our best."
Sitting in his leather chair, Lucas gets so emotional when he mentions his wife that he cannot speak. His eyes fill with tears. They were supposed to retire together to a spread of land in South Texas that has been in the Lucas family since the 1800s, he says.
"That's where my wife and I were going," he says. "She won't make it that long, but that was our plan when we purchased that land and planned our retirement. She was the same age as I was. That was the plan."
When Lucas becomes this sympathetic figure, all of the bad tales about him suddenly seem an invention.
Of course, not all of the rumors concerning Weldon Lucas are bad. If George W. Bush were to become president, rumor has Lucas' being appointed one of 94 U.S. marshals in the spring, serving in the Eastern District of Texas. Lucas says that if he were to finish his work in Denton County and if the prestigious job were offered, he just might take it.
As for Trooper Smith, six years later, he is a corporal and just as convinced that Weldon Lucas was drunk that night while driving on a road north of Pottsboro. He is also angry about how the tables were turned and his being forced to move so far from family ties in North Texas. He has filed a lawsuit against the state; the hearing is scheduled in Austin in March.
"I reported a lawful offense to a lawful authority... and they took retaliatory action against me for doing that," Smith says. "They told me in private, it was by the book. It was a good arrest, and the next thing I know it comes time to grand jury and all of a sudden I'm being brought up to the grand jury, and I'm the one being told I'm a crummy officer, and I need to transfer to driver licenses, and that I'm a detriment to the state.
"...The man got away. He should never have gotten away."