Ex-Deputy Convicted of Assaulting Women Now Chaplain for Christian Cop Group

For nearly a decade, the case of San Diego Sheriff’s Deputy Ricky Fischer’s sexual predation rocked San Diego County. More than 20 women accused Fischer of a myriad of abuses over a two-year period, from unwanted groping and kissing to forcing them to perform oral sex on him.

His victims ran the gamut – from women who were pulled over for traffic stops to women who called the sheriff’s department for help. He ultimately pleaded guilty to a half dozen felony and misdemeanor charges related to his sexual crimes, leaving San Diego County taxpayers on the hook for nearly $10 million in settlements from the civil cases brought against him.

But just two years after the resolution of the final civil case, Fischer has a new gig – chaplain with San Diego-based Christian Law Enforcement Fellowship.

The Christian Law Enforcement Fellowship describes itself as a “non-denominational Christian organization committed to a Biblically oriented outreach to the law enforcement community of San Diego County.” The nonprofit organization provides support and mentorship to police officers throughout the region, and throws widely attended prayer breakfasts and even marriage retreats.

The group’s leadership includes multiple high-ranking former law enforcement officials, from retired San Diego Police Department Capt. Jerry Hara, who serves as the organization’s president, to retired lieutenant, Misty Cedrun, who serves as the organization’s vice president. The group’s leadership also includes current chaplains for the San Diego Police Department.

Sheriff Kelly Martinez is also prominently featured on one of the organization’s webpages. In an email, Lt. David Collins wrote that Martinez was not aware that the organization was using a photo of her on its webpages and had asked it be removed.

Collins wrote that Martinez supports the work of the Christian Law Enforcement Fellowship and “appreciates how invaluable a resource they are to our employees and the community.” She could not, however, speak to the organization’s hiring decisions.

When it came to Fischer, Collins wrote: “Richard Fischer was terminated as a Sheriff’s Office Employee in February 2019. He was convicted of crimes and behavior that is not acceptable for any member of the Sheriff’s Office.”

Fischer’s biography on the organization’s leadership webpage touts his background as a “former Sergeant in the Marine Corps with 10 years of honorable service” and a “former law enforcement officer with 10 years of experience.” The bio seems to only obliquely mention his prolific history of sexual abuse and assault, spinning it as a redemption narrative.

“After facing some extremely challenging situations,” the biography reads, “God called Ricky into ministry where he now serves first responders, their families and others in need with compassion, hope and the truth of the Gospel.”

Fischer declined a request for comment.

But Hara, the fellowship’s president, said Fischer is no stranger to the organization. During his sentencing and through his brief incarceration, chaplains from the fellowship counseled him. In the years since, Fischer stayed connected with the fellowship and, in Hara’s telling, has gone through a religious redemption. He’s now attending seminary school.

“Did he do something wrong? Absolutely, yes. But we are all sinners. We all deserve god’s forgiveness,” Hara said. “Who better to minister to cops who are in trouble than a cop who has been in trouble who has now been forgiven by God?”

Prior to bringing him on as a chaplain, Hara said he and other leaders within the fellowship “vetted him” and that it was clear to them he was a changed man. As a former detective sergeant, he added, you can “smell if something is awry.”

“I believe if God said ‘Hey, your sin is forgiven,’ who am I to contradict God?” Hara said. “He has integrity and high morals and he’s ministering to officers in crisis.”

The trust they’ve placed in him isn’t without qualifications. Hara said the fellowship doesn’t allow Fischer to minister to female officers. Fischer is also paid via donations that come from those to whom he counsels.

But not everyone’s prepared to take Fischer’s redemption arc at face value.

Dave Myers worked in the Sheriff’s Office for more than three decades, later running against Martinez for Sheriff. He said organizations like the fellowship are vital to provide support to officers, who often deal with incredibly stressful and traumatic situations every single day.

To Myers, though, the fellowship’s decision to hire Fischer was indefensible. Fischer had used the authority of law enforcement to “prey on the most powerless in our community,” Myers said.

“It does an injustice to not only faith leaders, but an injustice to his victims and to all the good, honest law enforcement personnel out there who are not sexually molesting people who are calling them for help,” Myers said. “For the Christian (Law Enforcement) Fellowship to allow something like a predator in their midst, any law enforcement organization must distance itself from that organization now.”

Fischer’s crimes drove a deep rift between the community and the Sheriff’s Office. While some of the women were accosted during traffic stops or searches, others were abused after they themselves called the Sheriff’s Office for help, deepening the sense of betrayal.

One victim alleged that Fischer had stalked her after meeting her at a mental health facility where she worked. At one point, she alleged that she was woken up by his shining a flashlight into her window, later demanding she let him in. After being let in, the woman alleged Fischer forced her to perform oral sex on him.

Another woman who’d called the Sheriff’s Office to report a domestic violence threat claimed that Fischer then hugged her, grabbed her butt and placed her hand on his crotch. The woman claimed Fischer asked her not to tell anyone.

The accuser later told KPBS that she had let him into the house because she was vulnerable and scared. The experience, though, had changed her relationship with law enforcement.

“He just scared me so bad. I will never let an officer in my house again,” the woman said.

Fischer’s crimes also put a spotlight on how the Sheriff’s Office responded to misconduct claims by the public. At least one of Fischer’s victims testified that after she’d been groped by Fischer during a traffic stop, she’d lodged two complaints against him. Officers responded to neither. The silence wasn’t an anomaly. Reporting by KPBS showed that between 2014 and 2018, one in six citizen complaints to the Sheriff’s Office went unanswered.

Some of the most graphic and disturbing allegations of sexual abuse were not included in Fischer’s trial. Still, he pleaded guilty to four felony counts of assault and battery under color of authority, two misdemeanor counts of assault by an officer and one misdemeanor count of false imprisonment stemming from allegations from 16 women.

Over the following years, San Diego County taxpayers paid out nearly $10 million to settle the civil cases brought by his many victims. The county also footed the bill for the more than $1 million in attorneys’ fees Fischer racked up.

Fischer was sentenced to 44 months in prison. He served far less than that, though. He spent just over a year in prison during his two stints, which were punctuated by a release after a judge wrongly counted time spent on house arrest as time served. Because his crimes weren’t technically sex crimes, Fischer also wasn’t required to register as a sex offender following his release.

The leniency of his punishment outraged many of his victims.

Upon his release, a woman who went by Jane Doe #3 during the trial told NBC 7 “Honestly, it makes it to where we don’t matter and law enforcement can do whatever they want and it shows everybody else that it’s OK, and you’re going to get away with it and there’s no real punishment behind it or repercussion for it.”

“There’s just no justice, there’s just no justice,” another unnamed victim told CBS 8. “How dare anybody just let this guy walk around?”

Hara, the fellowship’s president, has never spoken to any of Fischer’s victims. But when asked how he thought they would react to his new life as a chaplain counseling officers in crisis, he struck a note of optimism.

“I’m sure that those victims do not want police officers to act in that criminal, evil unprofessional manner. What Ricky is doing is changing those officers by ministering to them,” Hara said. “Those officers who are lost or in trouble or in darkness, if we can change those officers to people who are nice and respectful and courteous I think the victims would prefer that.”

Aside from the victims themselves, Dan Gilleon may be the person most suited to speak on their behalf. He represented 23 of Fischer’s victims during the criminal trial against him.

He said that even before the assaults, Fischer presented himself as a godly man. So, his new religious redemption rings hollow.

What also makes the narrative so difficult to for Gilleon to believe is how aggressively he says Fischer and his lawyers attacked his clients, particularly during the civil trial. Fischer’s lawyers went out of their way to call his clients liars and even deposed victims’ children in some cases. And while he’s had cases where perpetrators send convincingly remorseful letters to victims, no such communication came from Fischer.

“I think most of my clients would call BS on it. He didn’t admit fully to everything he did, he pled guilty to certain crimes,” Gilleon said. “Repenting so he doesn’t burn in hell forever is one thing, but actually making amends to the victims is where the rubber meets the road and he hasn’t done that.”

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This story was originally published by Voice of San Diego and distributed through a partnership with The Associated Press.