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Erik Scott

Our nation is changing at a dizzying, and disturbing, pace.  The Internet has had a substantial role in that.  For the first time in history, we have a new category of people we know.  They’re friends, just not friends we can touch, or see over a restaurant table, but we know them nonetheless and we care about them. For the first time in history, we have access to much of human knowledge in the palms of our hands.  We can know stories and people that would, in the past, forever have escaped us.

It was the story of Erik Scott that set me on the path of blogging.  On September 17, 2010 Bob Owens—may he rest in peace—posted an article on the murder of Erik Scott.  By then, I had been long out of police work, busy with my second career teaching high school English, but everything about that story was wrong.  Like Spiderman’s spidey sense, my cop sense tingled.  I began researching the case and posted my first Internet article on Bob’s site, Confederate Yankee.  Reading that article, Bob asked me to be his co-blogger, but eventually moved on to Bearing Arms, and closed Confederate Yankee.

I needed to continue writing on the Scott case, so I began this scruffy little blog in November of 2011, and continued with that case, eventually writing 40+ articles.  The SMM Erik Scott archive is here.   

There are some stories, some people, all should know.  I speak not of people famous for being famous, not of violent, drug-addled felons made political martyrs, people absolutely unworthy of notice or emulation.  I speak not of vacuous celebrities, addled athletes or dimwitted TV talking heads.  I speak of people like Erik Scott.

July 10, 2023 marks the 13th anniversary of the murder of Erik Scott by panicky, undertrained Las Vegas police officers at the Summerlin Costco.  I never met Erik, but over many years of investigating his murder and writing the definitive book on the case, I came to know him well, which only exacerbates my sense of loss—and outrage.

July 10, 2010:  Erik Scott and his fiancé Samantha Sterner were shopping at the Summerlin Costco in Las Vegas, preparing for a dinner with friends. Bending down to examine merchandise on a low shelf, Erik’s shirt momentary rode up, exposing his legally carried concealed handgun.  This would have come to nothing if a cop-wannbe security guard had not chanced to see it.  He called management, who spoke with Erik.  They parted amicably, and Erik and Samantha continued to shop, two of hundreds of unremarkable customers in the Summerlin Costco that day.

But the security guard, against store policy, called the Metro police—arguably the most corrupt and dangerous police force in America–-and there began a bizarre and deadly comedy of errors.  The security guard, the call taker, the dispatcher and three undertrained, panicky cops, became part of a uncoordinated torrent of errors, and a canine unit, cadets and a helicopter rushed to the Costco.  They would soon number more than 60.  Metro forces somehow got the idea Scott was a Green Beret–-something he never said or implied–-was threatening people with guns, was under the influence of drugs and was refusing to leave the store, none of which ever happened.  The Metro narrative eventually claimed that challenged by an officer pointing his handgun at Scott at a distance of six feet, Scott drew his handgun, still in its holster, and pointed it at him.  The narrative even claimed Scott was carrying two guns!

None of that was remotely true.  Scott was never asked to leave the Costco, never drew his gun, and the supposed second gun was on Scott’s nightstand at home.  The second gun is perhaps the most bizarre part of the Metro narrative and cover up.  Yet even today, Metro apologists in social media and elsewhere continue to spout the false Metro narrative, a narrative that furthers the cover up of Erik Scott’s murder by three Metro cops. These “facts” are only part of the Metro narrative, as bizarre and impossible a lie as one could imagine.

As I began in 2010 what would turn out to be a seven+ year investigation, I initially gave the Metro police the benefit of the doubt.  I very quickly learned they did not deserve it.  It haunted me.  Sometimes police officers make deadly mistakes, and sometimes, they lie about it. In Metro, lies like this are SOP, as are coverups.  Lies like this cry out for the truth.  I had no idea I would be the one, with the help of my anonymous co-author, to tell the definitive story.

Erik Scott

Erik Scott was an extraordinary man.  Even as a child, he was high-energy, a self-motivated achiever, a natural, goal-seeking leader.  In high school, he announced he was going to West Point, and he made it happen.

Erik Scott, Armor Officer

An extraordinary athlete, and precisely the kind of scholar/athlete our military academies seek, he excelled, and became an armor officer, serving in M1 tanks.  But with the end of the Cold War, the military was drawing down.  He accepted an early out opportunity, moved to Las Vegas and did very well in real estate during the last Vegas real estate boom–-until it busted.  He quickly built a career selling and servicing cardiac pacemakers, working 24/7/365, regularly advising in the operating room and thereafter.  As I dug more deeply I learned he was respected by all who knew him, not only for his reliability and dedication, but for his character.

As I investigated as best I could–-Metro wasn’t the least interested in disseminating the truth, and the local media—the Las Vegas Review Journal–bought the Metro narrative, hook, line and sinker–-I eventually became acquainted with the Scott family, and soon understood why Erik was such an extraordinary, honorable man: he got it from his parents.

As regular readers know, I was eventually able to obtain not only the complete Metro report—thousands of pages–-which includes the transcripts of the farcically corrupt coroner’s inquest, and a great many other depositions and interviews, many conducted by Scott Family attorneys and never seen by Metro.  My suspicions were confirmed. Metro was not only arrogantly corrupt, but incredibly sloppy.  They didn’t have to be competent, because for decades, virtually no one in Vegas ever dared challenge them.  They didn’t have to be professional.  They didn’t have to write coherent, accurate reports, and the many inconsistencies, outright contradictions and lies in their report eventually revealed the truth.

I was amazed.  I’d never seen that kind of arrogant corruption.  It was worse, much worse, than I could have imagined.

William Mosher

Three Metro cops murdered an innocent man in the middle of a crowd of some 200 people, and Metro, the prosecutors, and much of the Las Vegas establishment covered for them.  William Mosher, a serial Metro killer, shot Scott twice—once in the heart and once in the outside of his right thigh–and as he fell, flat on his face on the concrete, officers Thomas Mendiola and Joshua Stark rushed up and shot him five times in the back and buttocks.  Mosher had no cause to shoot, and Mendiola and Stark surely did not.  The bullets they fired into Scott’s back as he fell, dying, to the concrete, were an egregious example of unjustified “me too!” shooting.

It will not, I’m sure, be a surprise to learn all Costco surveillance video, indoors and outdoors, of the entire incident mysteriously disappeared, nor, in an age of ubiquitous cell phone cameras, did any cell phone photos or video appear.  To this day, sources inside Metro affirm Metro brass had a copy of that footage, viewed it and hid it.  They knew it was a bad shoot from the beginning; any competent, non-corrupt, investigator would have known.

In 2011, Mendiola was fired–a rarity at Metro–for knowingly giving a firearm to a convicted felon.  Rumors persist Mendiola’s crimes were far more voluminous than was publicly admitted.  Mosher “retired” in 2017, far short of 20 year’s service, and apparently, Stark remains on the force.  Stark is said to have shown some remorse, but never enough to tell the truth.  To be fair, telling the truth in Metro, and Las Vegas, can be fatal.

After finally obtaining all available documentation, I spent about a year and a half writing License To Kill: The Murder Of Erik Scott.  It was only my knowledge of proper police procedure that allowed me to wade through thousands of pages of poorly written police reports and related documentation and make the connections that prove the murder and the cover up.  Metro’s own reports are the primary evidence, which is most likely why they shut up–-officially anyway–-in the hope the whole thing would just go away.  Internal Metro sources also confirmed the Scott family’s refusal to be intimidated made Metro leadership red-faced, spitting mad.

It took a long time to find a publisher for LTK.  That’s difficult any time, but in these Internet-driven days, even more so, but License To Kill was finally published in June of 2018.  Before then, Bill Scott, retired Air Force flight test engineer, journalist and author, published The Permit, a fictionalized account of Erik’s murder. It’s a compelling thriller.

Bill Scott’s fictionalized account

Perhaps the most interesting fact about License To Kill is it is Metro’s own reports that damn them.  Knowing where to look, knowing what should have happened in any competent investigation, but didn’t in this one, I was able to piece together, through painstaking page-by-page examination of Metro’s incredibly shoddy report and the many related documents, what actually happened.  That’s the story of the book, that, and the effect of Erik’s murder on his family, Las Vegas and American policing.

Though Erik and I never met, though I know him only through the words of those that knew and loved him, and through his accomplishments, I know him well.  There are some people, gentle readers, all Americans should know.  Erik Scott is one such.  His memory should live, and I hope you’ll all have a hand in that.

Knowing Erik’s parents and his brother Kevin, I have some sense of their anguish on the 13th anniversary of Erik’s murder—the absence they feel every day–-but I can never fully understand the depth of suffering that never ends.  No parent should outlive their child.  I do know the book, a fitting memorial to Erik, helped ease that suffering.

In these times of policing turmoil, the book also serves as a moral lesson about what happens to decent, honorable Americans when we allow our police forces, and politicians, to believe they are above the law–-that they are the law.  License To Kill can help Americans understand how policing should be done.

Some Metro sources—there are some honest people there—say Erik’s death, and our exposure of the cover up, have sparked at least some modest reforms.  It’s hard to tell.  The Las Vegas media, which occasionally mentions Erik, still buys the Metro Narrative, despite not long after Erik’s death, writing a comprehensive series proving Metro’s corruption, a major part of which was routinely, wrongfully killing innocents and covering up their murders. That series is footnoted in LTK.  So is every allegation, every fact that proves the murder.  I’ve often tried to get the Vegas media interested in one of the most newsworthy stories in Las Vegas history.  They’ve never responded.

When the book went public in June of 2018, Metro apologists, including one of the two primary detectives–-Barry Jensen–-that covered up for the killer cops, did what they had done from the beginning: lied and tried to confuse the issue.  On Facebook and anywhere else they could, they claimed the book was filled with lies—they hadn’t read a word of it—and continued to push the laughably false Metro narrative about what happened.  Honest Metro sources confirmed–-quietly and off the record–-Erik’s murder was widely known in Metro as a bad shoot.  I calmly and forcefully recited the facts, even directing them to specific pages of their own official report, and they quickly dropped out of sight again.

I challenged Jensen, as I did in the exchange above, and he said he’d reread the Metro report and get back with me.  I’m sure it will be no surprise to learn he never did.

One of my greatest frustrations, and that of the Scott family, was the facts unearthed in the book were never heard in court.  As it turns out, the Nevada courts are as corrupt as Metro, which is also explained in LTK, which remains the sole source of the truth about this case.

Metro would be happy if Erik Scott’s name was never again spoken.  As long as Americans seek justice, that’s not going to happen.

The truth is most American police agencies are honest and dedicated to public service.  These days, many officers fight just to be able to enforce some laws some of the time.  Some, like Metro, are neither honest nor public servants.  It is these agencies about which the public needs to know.  It is these agencies that are more dangerous to the law-abiding public than to criminals.  It is these agencies that must be reformed, top to bottom.

Very few authors make a living at writing. I knew I would never make any real money on the book, but I had to write it. Even though I no longer enforce the law for a living, my compulsion to do justice required no less.  As with Marines, there’s no such thing as an ex-cop, just former cops carrying everything they learned and experienced to the grave.  In a time when publishing a book in paper is very, very hard to do, I consider it nothing less than the hand of Providence it has been published.

I encourage you, gentle readers, to learn about Erik Scott, and to contemplate why such a honorable, patriotic American was cut down by cowards, and why he continues to be slandered by those unfit to shine his combat boots.  I encourage you to spread his story, as I work to do the same.

The book, a detective story as well as a story of incredible police corruption, can be purchased through the publisher-–North Slope Publications–-or through Amazon. Reviews of the book on Amazon are also much appreciated.

Erik Scott is an American life worth knowing and celebrating, and worth a prayer, for him and those that love him, every July 10th.  Not every anniversary is an occasion for joyful remembrance, but on this 13th anniversary of his unnecessary death, join me in saying: Ave atque vale—hail and farewell–Erik.