Tony Timpa died after a Dallas cop knelt on him. Now a civil jury will hear what happened

Seven years after Dallas officers pinned Tony Timpa to the ground and mocked him as he died, his relatives will have their day in court.

The federal civil trial is set to begin Monday with jury selection, a pivotal point in the death-in-custody case that already reached the nation’s highest court in a battle over whether the family’s lawsuit against the four officers could even move forward.

Timpa, 32, died August 10, 2016, after he called 911 for help from the parking lot of a porn store. The officers’ body-camera footage revealed he was handcuffed and pinned facedown by officers as he yelled for help more than 30 times. He was dead within an hour.

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The lawsuit asserts that one officer used excessive and deadly force while three others stood around and cracked jokes despite ample opportunity to help Timpa, who had a mental illness. The city of Dallas is representing the officers named in the lawsuit: Dustin Dillard, who knelt on Timpa’s back for nearly 14 minutes, Raymond Dominguez, Kevin Mansell and Danny Vasquez.

Dillard argues the force was necessary to gain control, while the other officers contend they didn’t have a duty or opportunity to intervene because they didn’t think the force was unreasonable, according to court records.

Timpa’s mother, Vicki, said in a recent tearful interview that she has fought for accountability since his death.

“I want justice,” she said. “I wanna be made whole. I wanna be able to go to sleep without nightmares almost every single night. I wanna be able to remember my son — that he got justice. I haven’t even had a life in the last seven years. This has ruined my whole family.”

Police and a spokeswoman for the city declined to comment, citing the pending litigation.

An autopsy found that Timpa’s cause of death was a homicide, sudden cardiac death due to “the toxic effects of cocaine and the stress associated with physical restraint.”

Three of the officers were indicted in 2017 on criminal charges of misdemeanor deadly conduct, but Dallas County District Attorney John Creuzot dismissed the case after he said three medical examiners would not testify that the officers acted recklessly.

The Dallas Morning News first reported Timpa’s death in a 2017 investigation after police refused to say how a man who called 911 for help ended up dead. In 2019, after a three-year legal battle, The News obtained the officers’ body-camera footage.

Alex del Carmen, an associate dean of the school of criminology at Tarleton State University and a national expert on law enforcement practices, said the force shown in the body-camera footage is “clearly unacceptable.” He said most police departments prohibit pinning a person facedown because it can lead to cardiac arrest from physical and emotional stress.

The threshold is much lower than a criminal case, when guilt must be proved beyond a reasonable doubt. Civil litigation requires “a preponderance of the evidence” that it’s more likely than not.

“The odds in some ways are against the officers given that the video shows, in a very realistic way and in a very direct way, the role that they had in creating the circumstances by which this individual died,” del Carmen said.

He said the use of force is thought about differently now than in 2016. Today, he said, the video would’ve been available quicker, people would’ve collectively opposed the tactics used, and it would’ve been “a big red flag” that several officers didn’t intervene.

“What this is going to do,” del Carmen said, “is likely remind the police department and all police departments — across the metroplex, in Texas, and I would argue nationwide — why it is so important that their officers are trained the right way.”

Dillard, Dominguez and Vasquez remain on the force. Dillard was promoted to senior corporal last year, and he’s now a domestic violence detective. Mansell retired in August 2019.

‘You’re gonna kill me’

The night of his death, Timpa called 911 and reported he was afraid and unarmed, adding he was off his prescription medication for anxiety and schizophrenia, the lawsuit says.

He had been handcuffed by private security guards near Mockingbird Lane by the time police arrived.

“You’re gonna kill me! You’re gonna kill me! You’re gonna kill me!” he yells as officers look down at him.

Body-camera footage shows that he briefly rolls toward the curb before officers turn him facedown, pin his handcuffed arms behind his back and zip-tie his legs together.

Dillard holds Timpa to the ground with his knee in Timpa’s back for more than 13 minutes, using a controversial policing method known as the “prone position.”

Timpa writhes on the ground, struggles to breathe and screams for help.

His nose is buried in the grass. The officers laugh and joke as he becomes unresponsive.

“Tony, it’s time for school. Wake up!” one officer says. Another mimics a teen: “I don’t want to go to school! Five more minutes, Mom!”

Laughing loudly, they joke about buying him new shoes for the first day of school and making him a special breakfast.

At least four minutes after Timpa becomes unresponsive, first responders begin CPR. He’s dead by the time he’s loaded into an ambulance on a gurney.

As the officers take in Timpa’s glassy eyes and the blades of grass stuck to his mouth, Dillard says: “He didn’t just die down there, did he?”

Moments later, paramedics confirm he’s dead, and Dillard climbs out of the ambulance. “Sorry,” he says. “We tried.”

Timpa was a beefy redhead and a trucking firm executive who grew up in Rockwall. He loved hockey and skiing on water or snow with friends, Vicki Timpa said. He was devoted to his son, Kolton, now 14, whom he’d often take to church or amusement parks, she added.

Vicki Timpa said Kolton, who plans to be at the trial, researched what happened and wants to know why the officers didn’t get in trouble for his father’s death. She said she’s constantly reminded of her son’s death and struggles even now to lie down for sleep around 10:30 p.m. — the time her son died about seven years ago.

“I just keep seeing it over and over and over,” she said. “Even when I’m awake, I see it. There’s no way to unsee it — or unhear it.”

Legal battle

City officials repeatedly tried to block the release of information about Timpa’s death. After his family filed the lawsuit, the city tried to stop the case from being heard by a jury.

U.S. District Judge David Godbey initially ruled that the officers were shielded by qualified immunity, a legal protection that states plaintiffs must find a similar case that demonstrates the officers’ actions were unconstitutional. The doctrine came under intense fire after a Minneapolis police officer murdered George Floyd in 2020.

The U.S. 5th Court of Appeals reversed Godbey’s decision in a move experts called stunning for the conservative panel, which is known for backing qualified immunity protections.

The city appealed to the U.S. Supreme Court, which cleared the way for a jury trial last year. Godbey will preside over the trial.

In many instances, the qualified immunity argument would have worked — lawyers capable of fighting that shield and keeping such cases alive are few and far between, said David Henderson, a civil rights attorney not involved in the Timpa case. In this case, the family’s lawyer successfully appealed.

Henderson said that “we don’t typically make it this far with civil rights cases in this part of the country.” He’s expecting many expert witnesses to testify and for the plaintiffs to ask for a record amount of money.

”There’s a good chance, and quite frankly I’m hoping, that they do set a record for the consequences of police misconduct,” Henderson said. “Because that case will help everyone who is stopped by the police, arrested by the police, abused by the police moving forward. This case could change or at least significantly impact civil rights litigation in this part of the country.”

Geoff Henley, Vicki Timpa’s attorney, said this case has stuck with him more than most because of the “callousness,” the amount of medical science and the legal components.

“I’ve had this case for more than 10% of my life,” he said. “The world has certainly changed, and I’ve definitely been living with this case almost every day.”

He added “there’s going to be a lot of battle” relating to police department policy and medical science.

“We’re ecstatic about putting on our case and showing the world just how perfidious their conduct was,” he said.

‘My son can’t rest’

Floyd’s murder was top of mind for experts who’ve reviewed the Dallas case. Dr. Martin Tobin, a world-renowned pulmonologist who testified at the trial for the Minneapolis officer who was convicted of murdering Floyd, is listed as one of the Timpa family’s witnesses, according to court records.

During a pretrial hearing Friday, the judge who will preside over this week’s trial set ground rules. There should be no mention of Floyd or other specific killings by police, Godbey said, although plaintiffs can more generally call Timpa’s death symbolic of a nationwide issue.

Timpa and Floyd both died after police handcuffed them and pinned them to the ground for several minutes. Henderson said it’s “hard to compare atrocities,” but the manner in which the two men were killed is “almost identical.”

Vicki Timpa, too, sees the parallels to Floyd — but also the differences.

Floyd’s murder spurred historic international protests. The four involved officers were swiftly fired after a bystander’s video went viral within days of his death. Within a year, Derek Chauvin was sentenced to more than 20 years in prison.

Meanwhile, criminal charges against the officers involved in Timpa’s death were dropped, and three officers are still on the force. Footage of what happened was released only after a legal fight. There were no massive demonstrations or widespread calls for accountability from high-profile national figures, members of Congress or Justice Department leaders.

Until this week, nobody was legally bound to answer for what happened to Tony Timpa.

“George got justice, so George can rest,” Vicki Timpa said, her voice breaking. “My son can’t rest.”