Over and over, he repeated that Foster had always had his full trust, right up to the day the deputy chief was hit with a seven-count federal indictment after he was pulled over by federal agents as he left his nephew's house.

As prosecutors continued their questioning of Dyer, they might have delved into why the police chief had missed or chosen to ignore flagrant signs of trouble. But prosecutors never asked the chief about Foster's finances, which had long ago spiraled out of control. He'd lost his house to foreclosure. He'd been hit with an IRS lien and his wages had been garnished after repeated failures to pay alimony and child support. All the while, according to his ex-wife, he lived a "lavish lifestyle," complete with furs, jewelry and expensive clothing.

They didn't ask Dyer why he maintained his trust in Foster even as the deputy chief was accused on two occasions of spousal and child abuse. Neither did prosecutors ask about accusations from two women that Foster had sexually harassed and sexually assaulted them. All of this information was readily available in court documents open to the public. The only noteworthy testimony elicited by the feds from Dyer had to do with Foster's main line of defense: that he was working on the city's heroin problem and that's why he had repeated contacts with a major heroin dealer. Dyer told the jury that if Foster was working in such a capacity, he never produced a report on his findings.

And that was pretty much all the duress the police chief of Fresno faced. As he walked out of the federal courthouse into the sunshine, no probing questions came at him from the local media either.

One TV station described it as a "difficult day" for Dyer that "left him reeling" because of the disappointment he felt at seeing his former deputy chief on trial. Another broadcast a segment in which Dyer explained that "whether the allegations turn out to be true or not, the fact is, this investigation occurred, and Keith was arrested, and as a result I felt a sense of betrayal."

Nobody asked him why it took federal agents to catch a man that Dyer himself saw every day, a man who, according to a co-conspirator, had been trafficking drugs for seven years.

Two years later, Dyer is still the chief. And within the department, he says, "Keith Foster's not on anybody's mind."

It wasn’t the first time Dyer escaped any real ramifications for problems in his department. Over the years, he’s faced remarkably little scrutiny for someone who spends so much time in the public eye.

In Politics, a Police Chief Who Seems Beyond Criticism

In Fresno, Jerry Dyer seems to be everywhere: church services, neighborhood barbecues, in full uniform at a Snoop Dogg concert. He can be seen smiling down from billboards reminding Fresnans to drive safely. He appeared in uniform on a national TV ad for home-security company ADT, saying the company may have saved a Fresno woman. He even has his own bobblehead.

Dyer, the 59-year-old son of a Fresno police officer, has amassed the kind of behind-the-scenes power that few police chiefs achieve. When he was elected head of the California Police Chiefs Association in 2008, he held a three-day party in downtown Fresno featuring armored personnel carriers parading through the streets in what local activists described as a “coronation.” Eight years later, celebrating 15 years on the job, he was feted by local politicians and celebrities at a black-tie event, with all three mayors he had served under praising him effusively, even as some 60 people gathered outside to protest the police killing of unarmed teenager Dylan Noble.

In 2015, three months after Foster’s arrest, a Washington Post profile lauded his commitment to community policing and highlighted his department’s practice of holding barbecues in an effort to connect with citizens. Dyer touts a laundry list of accomplishments, from falling crime rates to a reduction in traffic fatalities during his tenure. Fresno gangs are his bête noire, and he scored a major victory last year as leaders of the notoriously violent Dog Pound gang pleaded guilty to a wide range of federal charges.

In Fresno politics, Dyer seems to be beyond criticism. A review of articles in the local paper, the Fresno Bee, showed that no current City Council member has criticized Dyer in print, not even mildly (a former City Council president did once accuse him of being “arrogant”). And the city has rewarded him handsomely for his service: He made over $247,000 in 2017, more than the police commissioner in New York City. No, Jerry Dyer is not a typical big-city police chief. Then again, Fresno is not a typical big city.

'God's Forgiven Me. My Wife's Forgiven Me. This Department's Forgiven Me'

Fresno began as little more than a railroad stop in California’s Central Valley. The Central Pacific Railroad Co. founded the town in 1872. It was incorporated 13 years later and soon grew into an agricultural powerhouse. The figure who casts the longest shadow on Fresno today is undoubtedly Hank Morton, the high-water mark of corrupt police chiefs in a town with no shortage of them. During Prohibition, federal agents considered Fresno County the wettest in the nation, and the local police ran the booze. But it was Morton, ruling the department from the ‘50s through the ‘70s, who elevated corruption to an art.

Replacing Chief Ray Wallace, who was sentenced to prison in 1950 for using his office to amass 1,700 acres of land, Morton quickly took control of the area's brothels, marrying Fresno's top madam. He consolidated power (and avoided prosecution) using a vast intelligence apparatus inside the Police Department dedicated to gathering blackmail material on political leaders.

After Morton's retirement, three separate federal organized crime task forces investigated the Fresno police, leading to a reform period in the department that lasted for two decades. That era ended with the appointment of Dyer's predecessor, Ed Winchester, who stepped down in disgrace in 2001 amid compounding scandals, including the disappearance of 11 pounds of cocaine and $200,000 in cash from the evidence room. Jerry Dyer was born at the height of Morton's reign, in May 1959, and rose to department leadership under Winchester.

Dyer joined the force on May 1, 1979, just two days before his 20th birthday. His sister, Diane, also became a cop, and served on the Fresno force until 2011. Being a cop was in his blood, but he wasn't content to remain a patrol officer.

His appointment as chief was, perhaps, inevitable. His first major step was a two-year stint as public information officer, from 1995 to 1997. The name recognition he earned from frequent TV appearances helped him launch the defining project of his pre-chief years, the Skywatch helicopter program. He raised private donations to buy the department its first helicopters.

There was one other key piece of Dyer's rise, something that might not be expected to influence a career in government service: his identity as a born-again Christian.

He's a frequent guest at many Fresno-area churches, and is often spotted at prayer breakfasts and other public religious gatherings. In Dyer's telling, the story goes like this: In his 20s, he began drinking heavily, cheating on his wife and breaking police department rules (which rules, he won't say, but he does acknowledge being the subject of internal affairs probes while a beat cop.) In 2005, he told a crowd that as a young man he was "dishonest, egotistical, proud, arrogant and disobedient."

He had a revelation at the age of 32, when a friend suggested he go to church. In what Dyer sees as a sign from on high, the pastor spoke about the two problems plaguing his life: alcohol and adultery. He said he attended services the next two Sundays, and on the third Sunday, he experienced a rebirth, turning himself over to God and pledging to change his ways. He has an exact date for his spiritual awakening: Sept. 15, 1991.

Department leadership quickly noticed his newfound commitment to God — and, stemming from that, his commitment to doing the right thing and working to help others. He rose quickly through the ranks and was named chief just under 10 years later.

Dyer has used his faith as cover to protect him from potentially damaging stories from his pre-religious past. He got his first chance to test his story’s value almost immediately after he was appointed chief.