This is the first part of an investigative series about the fight between the Chief of Police in the Town of Tonawanda, and the men and women of the Police Club.
There are men who hold a title, and there are men who hold a line.
In the Town of Tonawanda, a place of low houses and trimmed lawns, of flags on porches and small-town Sundays, the business of policing had, for years, been its own closed circle. The kind where secrets lived longer than truth. The kind where loyalty outranked law. And the quiet understanding, like an old marriage, was that certain things stayed in the family.
Until James Stauffiger.
He was not from their cloth. Not in the way that mattered. He was a man built plain, with a Marine’s square set to the shoulders and a habit of saying the thing no one else would. They did not like him for it.
When Stauffiger took the job, it was not in triumph but in the ruins of scandal. Four members of the department — trusted men — had been charged in just eight months. Felonies, misdemeanors, violations. A retired cop — one of their own — stood at the Town Board meeting and called it out for what it was: failure. Failure to manage. Failure to lead. A department that other departments would not trust.
The Town Board, tired of excuses and embarrassment, picked Stauffiger.
They didn’t pick him to be loved. They picked him to clean house.
There are stories in Tonawanda, older than this fight, about a predator in uniform. About women, about silence. About fear. The story did not end until Stauffiger came.
A year after his appointment, the women came forward. After a decade in the dark, after believing nothing would happen — because for years, nothing ever had — they told what was done to them. It was Stauffiger who stood with them. It was under his watch the perpetrator was arrested. Under his watch the court doors finally opened. And it was not a small crime they described. It was predation, systematic and bold, wrapped in a badge.
But you wouldn’t hear that from the Police Club.
When Officer David Piatek was dragged by a stolen car —it was Stauffiger who called. Again and again. It was Stauffiger who went to the hospital. It was Stauffiger who sent food, who brought a donation, who made sure, quietly, that the wounded man’s family ate.
It was Piatek, in the end, who signed the petition against him. Because in the Town of Tonawanda, memory is short but grievance is long.
They call him divisive. They call him unfair. They say — in whispers and in meetings — that he holds officers accountable too much. That he asks too many questions. That he disciplines when others would look away.
But here is what the Police Club does not say.
They do not say he lied.
They do not say he covered for men who hurt the innocent.
They do not say he played favorites — not the way they do.
They do not say he failed to act when action was hard.
There is a war in Tonawanda. Not the kind with guns. The quieter kind. A war of papers and motions. Of public statements and private threats. Of Club against Chief.
The Chief has stood his ground.
The Club wants him gone.
But the line is still there. Held by a man who was never one of them. And maybe that, in the end, is exactly why he was chosen.
