The recent article by Joe Bauman on Division of Wildlife Resources law enforcement hot-dogging and the follow-up editorial brought up many important points regarding this sad example of Utah law enforcement. They did not, however, seem to emphasize what I have found through personal experience to be a major element of the problem — a lack of accountability.

While the conduct of certain officers is the obvious focus of citizen complaints, the reason this occurs is that those above them in positions of authority and responsibility have failed in their duty to see that the public is treated properly. In the words of that old Indian wildlife management saying, "When the fish begins to rot, the head stinks first."

On the first day of last year's general buck season, a DWR officer, thinking he was driving along a boundary road separating two hunting regions, came upon my son, Tom, and two companions. The young men were properly schooled, licensed, dressed and armed. Tom had just shot his first deer, cleaned it properly, tagged it and hauled it to his pickup. The officer asked him where he shot it. Tom pointed to the area. He then asked where he had dragged it up to the road, and Tom again pointed to the spot. The officer then asked to see his permit, determined that he had shot the deer on the wrong side of the road and informed him he was being cited for illegally taking a protected species, a violation carrying a $500 fine and a criminal record.

Thus began a demonstration of DWR erratic law enforcement. The officer, without explanation or permission, started a haphazard search of Tom's truck but not the other vehicle. When informed by one of the men, as required by law, that he had a concealed weapon in his vehicle, the officer started shouting at them in a confused manner. He later told Tom that he was lucky he was not going to confiscate his rifle. In the course of the encounter the officer told the men that there had been some confusion over the road, that it was known by three different names and that he preferred to call it "Forest Service Road," no doubt to distinguish it from all the other roads in the Uinta National Forest, and that he could not show them on the map where they were.

There was no confrontation. The men were cooperative. My son's first deer was confiscated.

From the get-go it was clear that there were two elements to this incident. One was the officer's authority to issue the citation, which no one ever questioned. The other was the officer's erratic conduct, the use of self-incrimination, a questionable search, and DWR's sloppy work on boundary descriptions.

As it turned out the charge against Tom was dismissed when it was shown in court that the Big Game Proclamation had listed the wrong road as part of the boundary. This error, which was pointed out to several levels of DWR supervisors months before going to court, was ignored by all. The prosecutor was reduced to the absurd argument that the Forest Service had made a mistake in numbering its own road and that the proclamation was correct.