Separation Confirmed: How Lorain Tried to Bury the Truth About Chief McCann’s Exit
After stonewalling The Lorain Daily, the City quietly released the real separation documents—revealing a disciplinary breach, a waived suspension, and a golden parachute for the Chief
Jun 25, 2025
By Aaron Christopher Knapp
Lorain Politics Unplugged | June 25, 2025
The Documents They Didn’t Want You to See
This morning, I received what The Lorain Daily’s Erik Jones was denied just hours earlier: the full, signed separation packet for Chief James McCann—released by the City of Lorain only after I submitted a direct public records request. What these documents reveal is not just administrative sleight-of-hand—it’s a willful deception of the public and a damning reflection of how this city handles misconduct at the highest levels.
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Despite a carefully worded press release praising McCann’s “service” and “technology contributions,” the real reason for his departure was a formal disciplinary ruling against him for unethical conduct, disparaging remarks, and unprofessional behavior that “detract from the department’s effective operation.” The City knew it. McCann knew it. But no one was supposed to see the paperwork.
Now you can.
“I Wish I Was a Dirty Cop”: The Line That Should Have Ended His Career
On November 18, 2024, McCann, still serving as Chief of Police, made a shocking and incriminating statement to Detective Payne. According to the official Statement of Facts, McCann said: “I wish I was a dirty cop… I need someone taken care of.”
Let that sink in.
The chief law enforcement officer in Lorain joked—or so he claimed—that he wanted to abuse his power to harm someone. It was a flippant comment with the gravitas of a threat. The Office of Professional Standards rightly opened an investigation, and while they stopped short of declaring it criminal, the internal findings were clear: it was unethical, inappropriate, and brought disrepute to the entire department.
This wasn’t just an off-color joke. This was an officer with the authority to order raids, oversee use-of-force incidents, and discipline others—musing aloud about wanting to become corrupt. And the person who heard it wasn’t some random officer—it was a detective. The comment was witnessed, documented, and verified.
The Charges Were Real. The Suspension Was Real. The Accountability Wasn’t.
The investigation concluded McCann had violated at least three Lorain Police Department policies:
- Standard 320.5.2 – Failure to abide by ethical conduct
- Standard 320.5.8 – Disparaging remarks toward constituted authority
- Ethics Rule 305 – Conduct that detracts from the department’s effectiveness
These aren’t minor infractions. These are foundational standards. If a patrol officer or sergeant had made similar comments, they would’ve been suspended immediately—if not terminated. In fact, multiple former officers in Lorain have lost their jobs for far less.
The official ruling from Safety/Service Director Rey Carrion imposed a three-day unpaid suspension. But McCann never served it. Instead, the City drew up a Mutual Settlement Agreement behind closed doors, offering McCann a cozy exit: retire quietly in September, collect full salary and benefits until then, and the suspension would be voided.
In short: he got paid not to be held accountable.
The Whitewashed Exit Deal
The full separation packet—signed by Chief James McCann, Safety-Service Director Rey Carrion, and notarized on June 25—lays bare a quiet, carefully scripted agreement between the City of Lorain and its top cop. This was not a routine retirement filing. It was a deliberate act of damage control, executed under the veneer of voluntary departure but rooted in formal findings of misconduct. And for weeks, the City refused to share it with the public.
Contained in the agreement is a critical legal maneuver: McCann’s formal waiver of his right to appear at the pre-disciplinary hearing. By doing so, McCann conceded the facts laid out in the Statement of Charges—namely, that he made a profoundly inappropriate comment to a subordinate detective implying he wished to abuse his position to “take care of someone.” The waiver explicitly acknowledges that his absence would result in the Safety/Service Director “adopting the Statements of Fact as true,” meaning there would be no cross-examination, no evidentiary dispute, and no appeal. He accepted guilt, but with a payoff.
Rather than enforce the three-day suspension the Director had already imposed in writing, the City offered a “settlement.” McCann was allowed to quietly transition into non-enforcement administrative duties with full pay and benefits, leading up to a September 15, 2025 retirement. This wasn’t just a bureaucratic shuffle—it was a financially protected glide path. While technically under discipline, McCann would continue drawing his taxpayer-funded salary for nearly three more months, all while shielded from public scrutiny.
The agreement goes even further to protect McCann’s reputation. It guarantees him the ability to retain his official police badge, a symbol of honor typically reserved for those leaving in good standing. It allows him to purchase his department-issued service weapon, a privilege denied to officers who resign under clouded circumstances. Most glaringly, it requires the City to maintain a sanitized personnel file containing only McCann’s “voluntary retirement letter” and a bland employment history summary. Any future employment inquiries are to be directed to the Safety/Service Director, who is contractually bound to state that McCann’s separation was voluntary—with no mention of the disciplinary findings.
And then there’s the quiet but damning clause: McCann is prohibited from ever working for the City of Lorain again. This kind of provision is not standard in normal retirements. It’s a red flag. It suggests that, despite the public accolades, City officials recognized the severity of McCann’s conduct and quietly sought to prevent any future reinstatement or contract work. In essence, they wanted him gone—but not publicly disgraced.
This deal wasn’t crafted to uphold integrity. It was crafted to preserve appearances. By letting McCann retire instead of facing suspension, the City avoided a public hearing, avoided an internal appeal, and—perhaps most importantly—avoided having to explain why its top law enforcement official joked about wanting to be corrupt. And yet the result was the same as if nothing had happened: full retirement, full benefits, full honors.
It was a whitewash in every sense of the word, and the City’s leaders signed it willingly.
A Carefully Scripted Lie
The official press release announcing Chief McCann’s retirement, jointly issued by the City of Lorain and McCann himself, is a masterclass in misdirection. It reads less like a factual account of a public official’s departure and more like a scripted eulogy drafted by a crisis management firm. It speaks glowingly of McCann’s “34 years of dedicated service,” applauds his role in “introducing cutting-edge technology,” and celebrates his supposed legacy of “building community partnerships.” But in its saccharine language and polished tone, it completely omits the most relevant fact: McCann was leaving under a cloud of formal discipline.
There is not a single word about the internal investigation that found him in violation of the Lorain Police Department’s own ethical standards. Not a single acknowledgment that just days earlier, McCann had signed a notarized waiver admitting that the City could treat the allegations against him as fact. There is no mention whatsoever of the pre-disciplinary hearing, the three-day suspension that was imposed then waived, or the remarks that launched the investigation in the first place—his now-infamous comment to a detective that he “wished he was a dirty cop” so he could “take care of someone.”
This wasn’t just omission—it was fabrication by omission. The press release intentionally presented a narrative of dignity, competence, and professional achievement, when in truth, the City was quietly paying a disgraced chief to go away. It was a false narrative laundered through official channels, designed to protect not just McCann’s image, but the City’s own leadership from public blowback. If citizens had read that press release without context, they would have assumed McCann was retiring at the height of his career, not tiptoeing away after being caught making violent, unethical remarks from within the highest office in Lorain law enforcement.
To the public, the City presented a career milestone—a capstone to decades of service. In reality, what they were witnessing was a career bailout, a hush-money retirement cloaked in commendation. And everyone at City Hall who approved that press release knew it. They had the full file. They knew about the Garrity Warning. They signed the waiver. They saw the ethics violations. And still, they chose to publish a glowing farewell instead of the truth.
That wasn’t just misleading. It was a lie, jointly authored by the very people entrusted with the public’s faith.
What They Should Have Said
If the City of Lorain had chosen honesty over optics, here’s what the public press release might have looked like:
FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE – June 25, 2025
City of Lorain Announces Retirement of Police Chief James P. McCann Following Disciplinary Findings
The City of Lorain announces that Police Chief James P. McCann will retire effective September 15, 2025, following the conclusion of a disciplinary investigation into statements he made while on duty.
On November 18, 2024, Chief McCann made remarks to a subordinate detective that were found to be unprofessional and in violation of Lorain Police Department policies regarding ethics, conduct, and behavior that brings discredit to the department. A formal investigation by the Office of Professional Standards resulted in findings that supported disciplinary action, including a proposed three-day unpaid suspension.
Rather than contest the findings, Chief McCann waived his right to a pre-disciplinary hearing. In lieu of serving the suspension, the City entered into a mutual separation agreement allowing Chief McCann to retire later this year under administrative reassignment. He will remain on full pay and benefits until the retirement date, but will no longer perform frontline law enforcement duties.
The City acknowledges the seriousness of the statements made and reaffirms its commitment to transparency, accountability, and ethical leadership at all levels. While Chief McCann has contributed to modernization efforts and various initiatives over his tenure, it is appropriate to recognize that recent conduct fell short of the standards expected from the City’s highest-ranking police official.
Moving forward, the City is committed to appointing a new Chief who embodies the professionalism and accountability the community deserves.
For further questions, please contact the Office of the Safety/Service Director.
Why That Matters
A press release like this—grounded in facts, clear about accountability, and free from self-congratulation—would have shown integrity. It would have treated Lorain’s residents like stakeholders, not spectators. And it would have acknowledged that public service is not just about tenure or titles, but about trust.
Instead, Lorain’s leaders gave the public a tribute they knew wasn’t earned. What they handed out was not just a golden parachute. It was a paper crown placed on a tarnished badge—hoping no one would look too closely.
Now that we have, it’s clear: the truth could have fit in a single page. They just didn’t want to write it.
A Public Records Denial That Backfired
Just hours before I received the separation packet, The Lorain Daily’s Erik Jones had attempted to obtain the same records. He was told nothing more would be shared. That denial wasn’t just petty—it was calculated. The City had already signed the documents. They knew what was in them. They just didn’t want the press or public to know.
Had I not submitted my own request, they likely would have buried the paperwork under a pile of procedural excuses. This is the exact kind of gamesmanship that erodes trust in public institutions.
Taxpayer-Funded Silence
McCann’s final months in office will be spent collecting a full paycheck—doing “administrative duties” in exchange for not challenging his suspension. Meanwhile, the City continues to deny records to other journalists, claim the matter was closed, and pretend that the ethics violations never happened.
Let’s be clear: Lorain residents are paying for this silence. His salary, his benefits, the accumulated pension credits—all of it funded by the people he served. And all of it given to him not as a reward for honorable service, but as a shield against the consequences of his own misconduct.
Final Thought
James McCann should have faced consequences. Real consequences. The kind any line officer—or any ordinary citizen—would face for making a violent, unethical statement in the workplace. But instead, the City of Lorain handed him a soft landing, wrapped in public relations spin and sealed with a golden parachute.
He told a detective that he “wished he was a dirty cop” because he “needed someone taken care of.” That wasn’t a joke—it was a window into a dangerous mindset, one wholly incompatible with public service, let alone police leadership. The Office of Professional Standards confirmed the violation. The Safety/Service Director issued a formal ruling. And yet, rather than enforce a suspension, the City cut a deal: waive the hearing, take the pay, and go quietly into retirement—with your badge, your gun, and your public dignity intact.
This wasn’t discipline. It was a reward for misconduct.
And let’s be clear: that reward wasn’t available to everyone. Lt. Corey Middlebrooks, a decorated Black supervisor with 25 years of service, was stripped of his command and fired outright for lesser allegations. No deal. No retirement. No badge. No purchase of his service weapon. Middlebrooks—who challenged racial bias and retaliation in the department—was given a termination letter. McCann, who joked about weaponizing police power and had a long, documented history of retaliation, was given a settlement agreement and a thank-you note.
If you want to see how injustice works in Lorain, look no further than the difference between how they treated Middlebrooks and how they handled McCann.
But McCann’s misconduct didn’t stop with that one statement. It extended to something even more dangerous: a pattern of personal retaliation against private citizens, journalists, and critics—myself included. I now have in hand documents that McCann authored while in uniform, on city time, and under the authority of his badge, attacking my professional license with false and defamatory allegations. These were sent to the Ohio Counselor, Social Worker, and Marriage & Family Therapist Board. They weren’t just inappropriate—they were illegal in purpose and retaliatory in intent.
And the City? They knew. They knew these communications existed. I filed multiple records requests for them. I cited Ohio law. I referenced specific dates and recipients. The City denied having them. Now, months later, they’ve surfaced—proving that not only did they exist, but that the City of Lorain willfully withheld them, choosing instead to shield McCann and protect their institutional image at the expense of the truth.
The same stonewalling and concealment tactics are still playing out in my active case against the Lorain County Sheriff’s Office—where bodycam footage, internal emails, and retaliation documents remain blocked under flimsy exemptions. And it’s no coincidence. These officials were in communication. They coordinated stories. They traded influence. They protected each other. And they all followed the same playbook: deny, delay, discredit.
Let’s not call this incompetence. Let’s call it what it is: a protection racket disguised as city government. A system where wrongdoing is buried, whistleblowers are punished, and white male power—no matter how corrupt—is coddled with handshakes and pension bonuses. McCann was allowed to exit with everything. Others, like Middlebrooks, were forced out with nothing.
That’s not fairness. That’s not justice. That’s favoritism built into policy.
So let’s stop pretending McCann’s retirement was noble. Let’s stop pretending this was routine. And let’s stop allowing city officials to rewrite history just because they control the press release.
McCann didn’t retire with honor. He retreated under fire—and the City paid him to do it. They gave him money, silence, and the tools of his former office while denying the public the truth. That’s not leadership. That’s complicity.
And now that the documents are public—now that the lies are exposed—the question becomes: who else knew, and who else must be held accountable?
Because if this is how Lorain handles corruption at the top, then it’s not just the Chief who needs to go. It’s the entire code of silence that let him stay this long.
Stay tuned for Part 3: The Cost of Silence.
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