CLEVELAND, Ohio -- Cleveland has agreed to pay a former state prison guard $900,000 in a settlement over a 2009 confrontation with vice cops in which the officers came close to shooting one another outside a prison.

The face-off occurred when plainclothes Cleveland vice officers inexplicably approached a hole in a prison fence in Cleveland, where uniformed prison guards were standing watch to make sure no one escaped or entered. The guards, not knowing the interlopers were officers, ordered them off the prison grounds, but the police pulled guns instead.

The settlement came two weeks after a federal judge called the city's arguments to throw out the lawsuit on its merits ridiculous.

"With their motions, the defendants say they should be able to come on state-controlled property at 1 a.m. and [be] permitted to beat a state corrections officer when that officer told the defendants to stop approaching an opening in the state prison fence," U.S. District Judge James Gwin wrote in an order March 13.

The city made the first payment toward the settlement last week. The agreement closes a federal civil rights lawsuit that raised questions about Cleveland police's accountability, procedure and use of nondeadly force. The city and the four officers settled the case without admitting any wrongdoing.

The suit accused vice officers of attacking and falsely arresting Martin Robinson about 1 a.m. July 10, 2009, as he worked outside the Northeast Pre-Release Center on East 30th Street in Cleveland. He and two other corrections officers were guarding a prison fence, where a car had crashed into it the day before, creating holes.

In court documents, Robinson said he reached for his weapon after two cars pulled up, and the occupants, dressed in dark clothing, approached the guards.

The guards yelled to the people in the cars -- who turned out to be vice cops from the city's Third District -- that they were on state property and ordered them to stop. Before Robinson could draw his gun from its holster, an officer pointed a gun at Robinson. In a matter of seconds, the guard was on the ground, handcuffed.

The city's lawyers said the officers' actions were justified because Robinson had reached for his weapon, a .38-caliber handgun, putting the officers' lives in jeopardy.

Robinson, in his first interview, said he was doing his job, and the standoff has left him with physical and emotional scars. He said he suffers from post-traumatic stress disorder, and he cannot work.

"I'll never be the same again," he said. "This will affect me the rest of my life. There is no amount of money that will make everything OK. People will look at the settlement and see some closure. But I have to deal with this every day. The people who did this can still carry a gun and badge."

The confrontation involved Lt. Jerome Barrow, whose behavior has been the focus of nearly three dozen police investigations. In his career of more than 32 years, Barrow has been praised as well as criticized as an aggressive officer who refuses to shy away from a fight.

The case with Robinson involved a little-known 2006 city policy that deals with how off-duty or plain-clothes officers are to approach uniformed guards or patrolmen, which is what happened when Barrow and three other officers came upon Robinson and two guards.

The policy calls for the officers to contact uniformed patrol officers in their own departments before dealing with uniformed officers from other jurisdictions. But only one of four of the vice cops who approached the guards recalled the policy, according to court records.

The policy is meant to prevent officers from shooting their colleagues through miscommunication.

"There could have been a bloodbath that day," said Robinson's attorney, Terry Gilbert.

Barbara Langhenry, the interim city law director, said in a statement that the city and its officers disputed Robinson's account but added "the city was able to reasonably resolve Mr. Robinson's claims. The city stands behind its decision and believes it to be in the best interest of the city, its officers and its citizens."

Documents describe confrontation



Hundreds of pages of documents, including experts' reports, depositions and police statements, spell out a series of tense moments involving Robinson and the vice officers. The records, published reports and interviews indicate the confrontation unfolded like this:

About 3 a.m. July 9, 2010, the day before the confrontation, a woman plowed her car into the prison fence. She said she had taken a sleeping pill and didn't remember getting into the car or driving, according to the accident report.

The accident and the work to remove the car from the scene created two holes in the fence. To prevent escapes, officials posted guards at the fence. The Pre-Release Center is part of the state prison system, and it is where female prisoners go before they are released back into society.

Nearly a day after the crash, about 12:45 a.m. July 10, Robinson and corrections officer Jennifer Jones were together near the damaged fence, making sure no one entered or left through the holes. A third guard, Brian Woods, was stationed nearby. The three wore guard uniforms and hats.

At the same time, Barrow and Detective Anthony Spencer drove near the prison in an unmarked Ford Taurus. Trailing them as they made their way through the city were detectives Erin O'Donnell and Michael Demchak, who were in another unmarked Taurus.

Spencer, according to court records, said he wanted to stop and talk to the officers about a bar across the street from the prison that he suspected may have been operating illegally. He and Barrow got out of the car and approached the guards, with Spencer in the lead.

Barrow testified in a deposition that he provided backup to Spencer because he didn't know the situation.

"I didn't know what I had," Barrow testified. "It could have been a drug deal, could have been a lover's lane thing. I didn't know, but my suspicions were raised."

Barrow testified that Spencer said, "What's going on? Cleveland police. What's going on?"

Jones and Robinson, however, said they heard Barrow screaming obscenities, according to their statements to authorities.

"I told them that they were on state property, that this was a prison, that we were corrections officers, and I showed them my ID from the state of Ohio," Jones told a police investigator.

Asked by the investigator whom she thought the people were, Jones said: "I had no clue."

Robinson moved backward and ordered them to stay back, according to his report to his supervisors. He said they continued on, moving even faster toward him.

He put his hand on his weapon and unsnapped its holster. He then heard Barrow identify himself, according to Robinson's report: "These are badges, motherf-----. We're with vice squad."

Barrow stressed to investigators that he identified himself and the others by saying, "Cleveland police." He showed the guards his badge, which was hanging around his neck, according to court records.

"I held it up [to] eye level and said 'Cleveland police, Lt. Barrow,' more than once," the officer testified in his deposition.

He said he drew his weapon after noticing Robinson reach for his gun.

"He had that look in his eyes that he was going to use his pistol," Barrow said in his deposition. He added that he focused solely on Robinson.

"I said, 'Dude, don't draw that gun,' " Barrow said.

Moments later, the vice officers took Robinson to the ground and began struggling with him. The detectives said they had to take down Robinson to pry the gun away from him. He was put on the ground twice, the second time while he was handcuffed, according to court records.

Robinson called the officers "attackers," who rushed him and beat him.

"I felt something pop in my right shoulder," Robinson said. "My head bounced off the ground several times."

In a letter to Cleveland Safety Director Martin Flask days after the incident, then-warden Frank Shewalter wrote that Robinson had no idea who the people were who approached him.

"This situation could have clearly turned deadly as there were several armed subjects involved," Shewalter wrote. "I would also like to know how it is possible for your vice squad team to not be able to see three fully uniformed and armed officers as they approached. And if they did see them, why would they react in such a way?"

Officers had little choice, city claims



City officials said the use of force was justified. They also noted Robinson's behavior once he was handcuffed and placed in a police car. An audio recorder captured Robinson accusing his supervisors of being involved in setting him up with police officers. He also threatened Barrow in a rambling tirade.

"I can't wait till I see you on the street, and that's a threat!" Robinson said, according to court records. He later said, "I should have shot that f------ lieutenant ass!"

Robinson was charged with aggravated menacing, a charge that was later dropped.

The city and its police expert, David Grossi, said the officers had little choice.

"Their options were to either resort to overwhelming physical force or wait to see if Mr. Martin Robinson would actually draw and shoot them," said Grossi, a retired police lieutenant from upstate New York, in his report.

Barrow was accused of violating department policy for the way he talked with a police dispatcher, including this exchange: "[The guards] were outside on the grass; that's why we were checking them out, and the one idiot tried to grab his gun, saying he didn't know who we were."

Barrow also was accused of failing to get Robinson medical treatment or to get him to the jail fast enough. Spencer was accused of failing to control Robinson after he was handcuffed. Chief Michael McGrath later dismissed the administrative charges. Also, a city prosecutor reviewed the case and rejected criminal charges.

Melvin Tucker, an expert hired by Robinson, said the incident could have been avoided.

"It was well established in the law enforcement profession in July 2009 that officers off-duty or working plainclothes should not intervene in non-urgent matters but, instead, should call for an on-duty uniformed officer to respond while continuing to assess the situation to gather accurate information to provide to the responding officer," wrote Tucker, a retired police chief of Tallahassee, Fla.

The city has said the officers simply were seeking information from the guards about the nearby bar.

In the summer of 2011, Robinson filed suit in Cuyahoga County Common Pleas Court, a case that was later transferred to U.S. District Court in Cleveland. He alleged his civil rights were violated, and he cited the officers' use of excessive force. The case was expected to go to trial in late March, but the attorneys reached a settlement.

In an interview, Gilbert, Robinson's lawyer, scoffed at the officers' treatment of Robinson, who had worked in corrections for about 10 years.

"They treated him like he was some suspicious person on the street," Gilbert said. "They viewed themselves as a superior authority that could approach and encounter anyone for any reason, just because they're police. To have that kind of attitude when approaching a state law enforcement officer is the height of arrogance."

Robinson is more blunt: "What they did to me was criminal."