If you want to know what William Earl Flavors thinks of himself, just consider the acronym he's worn on a baseball cap: PTID.
PTID stands for pimp 'til I die.
Normally, we might disregard cap insignia for substantive meaning, but that's not the case with Flavors.
He really is a pimp and a disgusting punk one to boot.
In 1999, Flavors was convicted of forcing two minor girls, ages 15 and 17, from Seattle--where his family lives--to Anaheim to work for him as prostitutes near Disneyland in Anaheim.
According to court records, he exerted his total control over the girls by raping and beating them, breaking one of their noses. He also made one of the girls drink cups filled with his urine and cigarette butts.
For those crimes, a federal judge sentenced Flavors to a term of 168 months in prison.
He served his time and then, while on probation and assuring U.S. District Court Judge Cormac J. Carney that he had straightened up his life and was cutting hair for a living, he got caught pimping two more women in Long Beach in 2012.
(Police also spotted him cruising an Irvine hotel parking lot with two women in his Mercedes in the middle of the night.)
I guess that PTID cap nailed it after all.
In a brief filed by Assistant United States Attorney Brett A. Sagel, Flavors--who likes to be called "E Flave"--is portrayed as a remorseless thug who is stacking up a list of "hideous" crimes and should be thrown back into prison for violating the terms of the probation.
Today, Sagel's stance seems to have finally swayed Carney, who--court records show--went out of his way in the last year to be exceptionally gentle with this 39-year-old pimp.
Inside the Ronald Reagan Federal Courthouse in Santa Ana, the judge ordered U.S. marshals to transport Flavors back to prison for 48 months.
R. Scott Moxley’s award-winning investigative journalism has touched nerves for two decades. An angry congressman threatened to break Moxley’s knee caps. A dirty sheriff promised his critical reporting was irrelevant and then landed in prison. Corporate crooks won’t take his calls. Murderous gangsters mad-dogged him in court. The U.S. House of Representatives debated his work. Pusillanimous cops have left hostile messages using fake names. Federal prosecutors credited his stories for the arrest of a doctor who sold fake medicine to dying patients. And a frantic state legislator literally caught sleeping with lobbyists sprinted down state capital hallways to evade his questions in Sacramento. Moxley has won Journalist of the Year honors at the Los Angeles Press Club and been named Distinguished Journalist of the Year by the LA Society of Professional Journalists.