THREE POLICE OFFICERS SIT NEAR the bar of a West Hollywood steak house, drinking wine and glancing from time to time at the wall, where an old painted caricature of O.J. Simpson, yellowed by a decade or two of drifting smoke, serves up a mocking, million-dollar smile. Two days after the verdict, these cops aren't amused. They belong to a disgraced and discredited L.A.P.D., a department maligned around the world, thanks to Johnnie Cochran and Mark Fuhrman, for shoddy police work, perjured testimony and racially motivated assaults on innocent people. No wonder these cops are thinking about getting out. "Nobody wants...
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