Black Man Reports Racism, Boss Gets Police Chief Friend to Falsely Arrest Him — City Pays $600,000

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“Fishing Buddies, Racist Texts, and a Badge for Hire: How a Small-Town Police Chief Framed a Black Man to Protect His Bigoted Friend”

In the quiet, tree-lined suburb of West Linn, where manicured lawns slope toward the Willamette River and residents pride themselves on safety, schools, and civic trust, a scandal unfolded that shattered the town’s polished image. What began as a workplace discrimination complaint spiraled into a calculated criminal prosecution—one allegedly engineered not for justice, but for loyalty.

At the center of the storm was Michael Fesser, a longtime employee of a local towing company, and a Black man who says he was punished for speaking up about racism on the job. By the time the truth emerged, the city had paid $600,000 to settle his civil rights lawsuit, a former police chief and a detective had lost their badges for life, and the phrase “small-town corruption” carried a new, disturbing resonance.

This is the story of how personal friendship, racial animus, and abuse of power collided—and how digital breadcrumbs exposed it all.

A Worker With a Breaking Point

Michael Fesser had worked at A&B Towing in Portland for more than a decade. By all public accounts, he was steady, experienced, and dependable. The job was demanding—long hours, roadside recoveries, auction processing—but it paid the bills.

According to court filings, the workplace environment deteriorated over time. Fesser alleged that the company’s owner, Eric Benson, made repeated racist remarks and fostered a hostile atmosphere. After years of enduring it, Fesser began to push back. He complained internally. Eventually, he consulted an attorney about filing a formal discrimination claim.

That consultation would later become a flashpoint in a criminal case.

Because before any civil complaint could be filed, Fesser found himself in handcuffs.

A Chief, a Friend, and a Questionable Investigation

At the time, the police department in West Linn was led by Chief Terry Timeus (sometimes spelled Tamas in records). Benson and Timeus were not strangers—they were friends. Social friends. Fishing companions.

In early 2017, Benson accused Fesser of stealing small amounts of money from towing auctions. The alleged sums were modest. There was no public record of prior misconduct by Fesser. And the business was located in Portland, outside West Linn’s jurisdiction.

According to later investigative findings, the Portland Police Bureau declined to pursue the complaint.

That could have been the end of it.

Instead, West Linn police initiated their own investigation.

Detective Tony Reeves was assigned to the case. Over the course of days, he communicated extensively with Benson. What might have remained hidden became explosive evidence: more than 40 pages of text messages between the business owner and the detective.

Those messages, later revealed in court and reported by journalists at The Oregonian, contained racist language attributed to Benson—and troubling responses from Reeves.

One text from Reeves, quoted in legal filings, would become the smoking gun: it suggested that arresting Fesser before he filed a discrimination complaint would avoid the appearance of retaliation.

It was a line that turned a theft case into a civil rights crisis.

The Arrest

On February 25, 2017, Fesser was arrested at work on five felony theft charges.

He was handcuffed in front of coworkers. His vehicle was searched. His phone and personal papers were seized.

Among the items taken was a private letter from his attorney discussing potential legal action over workplace discrimination.

That letter—protected under attorney-client privilege—was later shared with Benson, according to findings by prosecutors.

For legal observers, this was staggering. Attorney-client privilege is one of the bedrock principles of American jurisprudence. Violating it is not a procedural hiccup; it is a constitutional fault line.

The felony charges cast a long shadow. Fesser lost his job. His reputation in the industry suffered. The mere existence of five pending felonies made future employment nearly impossible.

But as his defense attorney began requesting discovery, the prosecution’s case began to crumble.

The Case Falls Apart

When prosecutors in Multnomah County reviewed the text messages between Benson and Reeves, they faced a stark reality. The complaining witness had used racist language. The detective appeared to have encouraged or tolerated it. The investigation raised red flags about bias and motive.

The district attorney’s office ultimately dismissed all charges against Fesser.

In a statement explaining the dismissal, prosecutors cited concerns about witness credibility and the integrity of the investigation.

But dismissal did not undo the damage.

Fesser had been publicly arrested, fired, and branded a felon. The criminal case may have evaporated, but the humiliation lingered.

So he turned to civil court.

Civil Lawsuits and Settlements

Fesser filed suit against Benson and A&B Towing, alleging discrimination and wrongful termination. That case settled in 2018 for $415,000.

But the more explosive lawsuit targeted the City of West Linn and its police department. Fesser alleged violations of his civil rights, unlawful investigation, and retaliatory prosecution.

In June 2018, his attorney filed a tort claim notice detailing the alleged misconduct: the out-of-jurisdiction investigation, the racist text exchanges, the seizure and sharing of privileged legal documents, and the apparent effort to preempt a discrimination complaint with criminal charges.

The city initially conducted an internal review. Detective Reeves received a written reprimand for policy violations, including unprofessional language and evidence-handling issues.

To critics, the discipline seemed astonishingly light.

Then the media stepped in.

The Oregonian Exposé

On February 10, 2020, The Oregonian published a detailed investigation by reporter Maxine Bernstein. The article laid bare the text messages, the privilege violation, and the friendship between the police chief and Benson.

Public reaction was swift and furious.

The city council voted the same day to approve a $600,000 settlement with Fesser to avoid trial. The payout was among the largest police misconduct settlements in Oregon at the time.

Town hall meetings followed. Residents demanded accountability. Officials apologized. Trust eroded.

But the consequences were not over.

A Prosecutor’s Rebuke

The Clackamas County District Attorney’s Office conducted an independent review. In a scathing report, District Attorney John Foote concluded that the investigation had been marred by deceit and omission.

Detective Reeves was designated a “Brady officer,” referencing Brady v. Maryland—a Supreme Court decision requiring prosecutors to disclose exculpatory evidence. When an officer is deemed unreliable, their credibility must be disclosed in every case, often rendering them unusable as witnesses.

For a detective, that is professional exile.

The report also faulted Chief Timeus for initiating and approving actions rooted in a personal relationship.

In June 2020, Reeves was fired.

Badges Revoked—for Life

In 2021, the Oregon Department of Public Safety Standards and Training held hearings to determine whether Reeves and Timeus should retain their law enforcement certifications.

The board reviewed evidence of deleted messages, illegal recordings, and the sharing of privileged documents.

On July 22, 2021, the board voted unanimously to permanently revoke both men’s certifications. They would never again serve as police officers in Oregon.

The official findings cited dishonesty, discriminatory behavior, and conduct that discredited the profession.

Detective Mike Stradley, who had assisted in the investigation, later faced criminal charges for official misconduct and was sentenced to probation in 2022.

What began as a workplace complaint had ended three law enforcement careers.

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The Cost of Corruption

The $600,000 settlement was paid by the city’s insurer—ultimately funded by taxpayers.

The cost was not only financial.

West Linn’s reputation suffered. Residents who once assumed their police department operated above reproach were forced to confront uncomfortable truths about favoritism and bias.

Legal scholars pointed to the case as a cautionary tale about the dangers of blurred lines between personal relationships and professional duty. When chiefs investigate friends’ enemies, impartiality collapses.

Civil rights advocates emphasized another lesson: retaliation can be disguised as prosecution.

A Life Rebuilt

Michael Fesser has since worked to rebuild his life. According to public statements, he has become an advocate for police accountability and reforms aimed at preventing similar abuses.

The four-year journey from arrest to badge revocation was long and grueling. But the record now reflects what the arrest obscured: the charges were unsupported, the investigation was flawed, and the retaliation narrative had merit.

For Fesser, vindication came not in a courtroom verdict, but in systemic consequence.

Lessons Written in Text Messages

This case underscores five enduring truths:

1. Documentation matters.
Without preserved text messages, the narrative might have remained one man’s word against another’s.

2. Privilege is sacred.
Seizing and sharing attorney-client correspondence is a constitutional breach with seismic implications.

3. Digital footprints endure.
Deleted messages are rarely gone forever.

4. Oversight must be independent.
Internal investigations often lack the teeth to police their own.

5. Accountability can happen—but it requires persistence.

The Larger Question

In a suburb of 26,000, personal loyalty allegedly eclipsed public duty. A complaint about racism metastasized into felony charges. And only after journalists, prosecutors, and state regulators intervened did the full scope of the misconduct surface.

The case leaves behind an unsettling question:

If not for text messages and relentless legal advocacy, would anyone have known?

In West Linn, the lawns remain trimmed and the river still runs quietly past cedar and stone. But beneath the surface of civic calm lies a reminder that justice, even in the most tranquil towns, depends not on image—but on integrity.

And when integrity fails, the cost is measured in more than dollars.