Name: From rough past to top cop, here’s what we know — and don’t know — about Broward Sheriff Gregory Tony
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From rough past to top cop, here’s what we know — and don’t know — about Broward Sheriff Gregory Tony

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AdvertisementBy South Florida Sun-SentinelMay 08, 2020 at 6:52 pmThe people who did not live in Gregory Tony’s old neighborhood in north Philadelphia tended to avoid it if they could.The Broward County sheriff has spoken before of his tough experience growing up in the Badlands, telling church groups about how his friend was murdered and his mother was once shot. But it wasn’t until the last week that he openly spoke of the ordeal of killing a man in self-defense and being found not guilty.Advertisement“It’s very difficult to paint a picture for people who’ve never lived that life and had to survive it,” Tony, 41, said of his hometown. "But it made me who I am today.”Officials from down to the deputies under his command are questioning what they know about the person Tony is today, not for his brusque manner or his apparent eagerness to , but for the secrets that he’s kept about his past . Some wonder, despite Tony’s denials, whether there are more bombshell secrets to be revealed.AdvertisementTo longtime friends, Tony is , intelligent and driven by his upbringing to make a positive difference. To critics, , vindictive and . Behind his back, some deputies call him “Temporary Tony,” an under-qualified cop thrust into power for political display.Last week’s news that Tony had long ago killed a man rocked Tony’s campaign for what would be his first full term as sheriff. Instead of talking about his accomplishments and challenges over the past 16 months, he found himself reliving a nightmare that took place in 1993.At the time, Tony was 14. He was the youngest of five children born to Gloria Tony and William Scott. Their area of north Philadelphia was ravaged in the 1990s by crime, the crack epidemic and gang activity. For people growing up in the Badlands, reaching adulthood was an accomplishment.“It was not pretty. I didn’t even want to drive through it,” said Jodi Burke, 49, of Parkland, who worked at a doctor’s office in the Badlands at the time, though did not know Tony then. “I would drive to a nearby neighborhood, and a male co-worker would escort me to the job.”Burke met Tony at a Coral Springs gym in 2012 — both were clients of the same trainer. “He didn’t like to talk about where he came from often,” she recalled.Last weekend, Tony described the neighborhood in stark terms.“People were literally doing crack on the streets, smoking crack pipes and injecting,” he said. “There were all sorts of robberies and burglaries. I can tell you my home had been invaded several times for robberies and stealing items from the home. I had been brutally pistol-whipped and beaten for the sake of people stealing the shoes off my feet. I witnessed a good friend of mine, a young kid, who was shot in the face.”The Florida Department of Law Enforcementwhen he filled out a form in January indicating that he’d never had a criminal record sealed. "During a preliminary investigation, we start to obtain documents and conduct research,” said spokeswoman Gretl Plessinger.AdvertisementTony was arrested in 1993, charged with he said was threatening his and his brother’s life. Tony, who was 14 at the time, called it self defense. The dead man’s ex-girlfriend has disputed that account, saying the 18-year-old was unarmed.The shooting , as Hector “Chino” Rodriguez “stood just off the curb,” according to news reports, which also said Rodriguez was shot at least five times, including his head.Tony recently told the Sun Sentinel he didn’t remember why an argument happened that day, in May 1993, outside his house. Rodriguez “pulled his gun out and made threats, saying he didn’t have any issue shooting me and my brother." So he said they ran into the house and Rodriguez chased after them. "Fortunately I was able to get my father’s gun,” Tony said. "Before he was able to shoot me and my brother, I was able to defend myself and shoot him.”Exactly what happened in court is unclear because the records are not available for public inspection. His campaign argues today that because he was not guilty, Tony was honesthe never had a criminal record sealed.Tony graduated from Philadelphia’s Olney High School in 1997, scraped up $500 from working several jobs, and left for community college in Tallahassee.He later transferred to Florida State University, where he tried out for, and earned a spot on the renowned Seminoles football team under legendary head coach Bobby Bowden. While he wasn’t one of the top-tier players attending college on a football scholarship, he was on the field most games and a reliable fullback, said teammate Ryan Reynolds, 38, who now lives in northern Broward County.Advertisement“Greg earned a lot of people’s respect because he commanded it,” said Reynolds, recalling Tony playing a leadership role at a team-only meeting where players scolded one another for “not living up to Florida State standards."“He was an underclassman, and there he was telling juniors and seniors, ‘If you want to be here, then let’s be here,’” Reynolds said. Tony’s teammates included future NFL players Travis Minor and Chris Weinke, Reynolds recalled. “Greg’s qualities as a leader were evident even then.”Reynolds said he didn’t learn about the Philadelphia shooting until Tony revealed it to him years after college. Tony didn’t go into detail, Reynolds said, but he did portray it as legally justifiable and emotionally painful. “It didn’t change my opinion of Greg’s character at all,” said Reynolds.Even in college, Tony faced financial hardship, though he says he was unaware that it left him with a second charge, this one a misdemeanor for bouncing a check. The issue was ultimately resolved and the charge dropped, though Tony later told his police superiors that he wasn’t even aware there was a criminal case.It was during his college years that he met Holly Dubrovski, who would later become a nurse, and, in 2006, Tony’s wife.By the end of his college years, Tony had given up on any thought of pursuing a professional football career. Reynolds recalled a minor injury being a factor in Tony’s decision, but there was a bigger reason.Advertisement“He wanted to go into law and criminal justice,” Reynolds said.Tony graduated from FSU with a degree in criminal justice in 2002. He worked briefly for the Department of Highway Safety and Motor Vehicles, dealing with contracts. He also worked with the state’s Department of Corrections, working in education for inmates. In job applications, he admitted trying marijuana as a teenager.He moved to South Florida, graduated from the police academy in 2005 and applied for a position in Coral Springs. He did not disclose either of his previous criminal charges during the application process — the first was irrelevant because it ended in acquittal, he figured, and he said he didn’t know about the second.When Coral Springs Police Department found out he’d indeed been charged with a misdemeanor in 2000 for writing a bad check in Leon County, he apologized in a memo to then-Police Chief Chief Duncan Foster. He said during his sophomore year at FSU, he bounced a check to purchase schoolbooks. He said he didn’t realize until two or more semesters later.“A FSU bookstore manager instructed me to go pay the fees at the courthouse,” he explained in the memo. “I had no idea until today, August 1, 2005, that I had a criminal history due to this event.”That explanation satisfied the department, though Foster Tony had he known about the Philadelphia case.AdvertisementTony went on to serve with the Coral Springs Police Department from 2005 until 2016. In numerous evaluations, Tony stated his ultimate goal was to become chief of police.“Greg was always self-motivated,” said Detective Diane Wantuck, who was Tony’s partner on the force from about 2007 until 2012. “He always showed leadership skills. I looked up to him, even though I had seniority by a year.”Though he was relatively new on the job, he took an interest in mentoring younger officers, unofficially, Wantuck said.While Tony never opened up to Wantuck about the shooting, he did talk about growing up in the Badlands. “That was why he wanted to get out of that neighborhood,” she said. “It was that drive to both better himself and to help others.”By the time Tony met Burke, the Parkland woman who once worked in the Badlands, he was a veteran on the SWAT team, on the cusp of being promoted to sergeant.“All he ever did was talk about his wife,” Burke said.AdvertisementPrivately, Tony and his wife signed up with an adult-themed party planning website called “VIP Bliss," which catered to physically fit and attractive women and couples. Photos from two of those parties in 2015 and 2016 show the Tonys frolicking in the relaxed poolside atmosphere, with the women in skimpy bikinis, pasties, or in some cases, topless.Tony’s campaign blasted the release of the pictures as a smear tactic, and supporters say what married couples do in their private lives is no one else’s business. “The only party he attended with me was my wedding,” Wantuck said.Burke said she never knew about the parties until after pictures were published online May 4. “I hear people criticizing the example they set for their kids,” Burke said. “They don’t have kids! Instead, they dedicate their time to saving our kids.”Tony still was working for Coral Springs when he and his wife incorporated Blue Spear Solutions in 2015. The company provides active shooter response training for private businesses and public agencies.By then he had been a sergeant for two years, earning a reputation among officers as smart and well-intentioned but also as temperamental and prone to grandstanding, criticizing officer tactics even in front of detained suspects. Officers who worked with Tony at the time said Blue Spear competed with the police department for Tony’s attention. Some took to calling him “Ghost.”“He was literally yelling at officers about their tactics in front of suspects,” said one officer who worked under him. "A good supervisor would teach and guide officers in private or say, ‘Let’s talk about this.’ There are better ways to learn than to just be yelled at the scene.”AdvertisementTony left Coral Springs in 2016 and moved with his wife to South Carolina, where he ran Blue Spear full time. The success of the business is not clear. Tony has said the company conducted training for thousands in the public and private sector. Burke, his Parkland neighbor, said Tony tried and failed to get training sessions into Broward schools, because no one would take his calls.Until Feb. 14, 2018.That was the day Nikolas Cruz, a former student at Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School, returned to campus with an AR-15 style rifle and went on a murderous rampage, killing 17, wounding 17 more and scarring the county permanently.“He called me, so upset,” Burke recalled. Tony said to Burke that he had tried to get a message about the vulnerability of school campuses to School Superintendent Robert Runcie through school board member Abby Freeman, who represented Parkland at the time. The school district has no record of any attempts by Tony to reach Freeman or Runcie before the Parkland shooting. But, according to Tony, Freeman didn’t take his calls, Burke said. “They didn’t listen,” Burke said.But Andrew Pollack did.Tony had met Pollack at the same crossfit gym where he met Burke. Their friendship would lead to Tony’s political rise.AdvertisementPollack’s daughter, Meadow, was among the dead of Stoneman Douglas, and in the wake of the shooting he began a crusade to hold public officials accountable for the failures that both led to and followed the massacre. His main scapegoats: Runcie and the school board, Scot Petersen (the school resource officer who took cover outside while the shooting was going on inside) and Broward Sheriff Scott Israel.Pollack also was a big campaign supporter of Ron DeSantis, who won the 2018 gubernatorial race and took office in January 2019. Pollack was among those who convinced DeSantis to remove Israel from office and install Tony in his place.“He puts public safety ahead of politics,” Pollack said. “I know his character and work ethic. He emphasizes training and preparedness.”The past 16 months have prohibited Tony from being a private person. Every decision he makes, as an appointed official in an elected office, is scrutinized by those who work for him and those who deal with the consequences of his policy decisions.Chief Assistant Public Defender Gordon Weekes praised Tony for being responsive to communities of color and showing little tolerance for deputies accused of abusing their power, including those caught on video teenager Delucca Rolle in Tamarac and another deputy caught on surveillance footage punching an unarmed, handcuffed jail inmate.“He has been more responsive than previous sheriffs to those issues,” Weekes said.AdvertisementBut he’s also been sensitive to criticism, he said. “Any form of honest critique is treated with defensiveness. He’s easily agitated. He needs to understand the head of the institution sets the tone for the institution.”The tone he has set has many deputies frustrated.Retired Broward Sheriff’s Capt. Neal Glassman said he and about 30 other high-ranking employees were in a meeting two months into Tony’s tenure when Glassman said he brought up a deputy’s training injury, questioning why they had been training on head blows without protective gear. Glassman said he brought up recent studies on traumatic brain injuries suffered by football players to drive home his point.Tony lost his cool, Glassman said.As it happensGet updates on developing stories as they happen with our free breaking news email alerts. &gt; “The sheriff lost it,” Glassman “He started throwing out f-bombs. He went off on a tangent. There was no reason for him to do this. He went in a tirade. .... He already had a reputation that he was hotheaded.”Last month Tony , president of the union that represents deputies. Bell had been taking Tony to task publicly over the handling of the , saying Tony has failed to provide enough personal protection equipment to ensure the safety of deputies.AdvertisementBefore he suspended Bell, Tony held a news conference during which he appeared both defensive and angry, raising his voice to criticize Bell and defend his record of providing protective gear to the rank and file. Tony accused Bell of , who succumbed to COVID-19 on April 3.Tony reportedly lost his temper with deputies outside the hospital where Bennett had just died, then again later outside the funeral home where deputies were paying their last respects.The union responded with a vote of no confidence in the sheriff, arming Tony’s political opponents with a campaign-ready issue as he seeks election in August. Among his opponents: Israel, who wants voters to thumb their nose at the governor by returning him to office.“I want to say to the deputies, I hear your concerns," Tony said right after the no-confidence vote. “Following today’s vote, my commitment is unwavering and our mission remains clear. It’s time to unite and work together to continue providing the highest level of professional public safety services to our Broward County community.”Staff writers Lisa J. Huriash and Skyler Swisher contributed to this report. Advertisement

AdvertisementBy South Florida Sun-SentinelMay 08, 2020 at 6:52 pmThe people who did not live in Gregory Tony’s old neighborhood in north Philadelphia tended to avoid it if they could.The Broward County sheriff has spoken before of his tough experience growing up in the Badlands, telling church groups about how his friend was murdered and his mother was once shot. But it wasn’t until the last week that he openly spoke of the ordeal of killing a man in self-defense and being found not guilty.Advertisement“It’s very difficult to paint a picture for people who’ve never lived that life and had...

From rough past to top cop, here’s what we know — and don’t know — about Broward Sheriff Gregory Tony

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