Voters, be aware—or better yet, BEWARE.
L.A. County Sheriff Robert “Bunker Bob” Luna is asking for another shot to finish what he started: wrecking the largest sheriff’s department in the nation like it’s his personal demolition project.
Since November of 2022, under the guise of reform, Luna has presided over one of the most chaotic and demoralized eras in department history—marked by a surge in violent crime, collapsing morale among deputies, and a shocking lack of leadership when it’s needed most.
So, if you’re dreaming of a future where home invasions, carjackings, and smash-and-grabs are a part of your morning routine like they are today – great news. Luna’s your man!
For those who’ve been paying attention, the sheriff’s race unofficially kicked off last November – when Luna was forced to launch his re-election campaign earlier than planned.
The expedited announcement happened after I dropped a little truth bomb on X about the swirling rumors of Luna’s health—specifically, word from my trusted sources in both the Long Beach PD and LASD pointing to the possible onset of Parkinson’s. The whispers had grown louder, and insiders believed it was affecting his capacity to lead – and then, things got real, real fast.
Sources say that the moment Luna caught wind of the post, his team went straight into DEFCON 1 damage control. According to insiders, Democratic political strategist Jeffrey Millman—a key player from Luna’s 2022 campaign—was quickly deployed to spin the situation into a shiny PR moment. The result? A conveniently timed Los Angeles Times article announcing Luna’s re-election bid for 2026, complete with a casual wave at the growing health rumors and a bold “nothing to see here, folks.”
Sources from inside the Long Beach Police Department say the real panic button wasn’t about optics – it was about donor confidence. Fundraising, they say, is Luna’s lifeblood. And a rumor like this? Enough to make money dry up faster than public trust at a sheriff’s town hall.
So the campaign went nuclear.
Thirty days after the Times article dropped, Luna’s personal attorney—whose firm just so happens to employ his daughter—sent a cease-and-desist letter to the author of the post (me). The letter, filled with the usual “defamation” buzzwords and heavy legal breathing, demanded not only the post’s removal, but also a public apology.
Because when you’re a so-called reformer with thin skin and shaky approval ratings, what better way to handle criticism than to lawyer up, cry foul, and threaten free speech?
Nothing screams “transparency and accountability” quite like trying to gag your critics through your daughter’s law office.
Now that a second candidate has officially jumped into the race (don’t worry, that’s not important right now), and a few others are flirting with the idea of running, it feels like the perfect moment to revisit why Robert “Bunker Bob” Luna isn’t just a bad option for sheriff—he’s already cemented his legacy as the worst to ever wear the badge in the 174-year history of the department. A title, mind you, that takes real effort to earn.
Pepper Spray is Now a Federal Offense
In a verdict that’s sending shockwaves through law enforcement agencies nationwide, Deputy Trevor Kirk was convicted by a federal jury on February 6, 2025, of deprivation of rights under color of law for—wait for it—using pepper spray during a robbery in progress call at the WinCo market in June of 2023.
Yes, you read that right. Pepper spray. A Category 1 use of force, the lowest on the department’s scale.
The verdict, which could land Kirk in federal prison for 10 years, is being called “unprecedented” by former Sheriff Alex Villanueva, who showed up in court just to watch this dystopian mess unfold in real time.
“Declaring pepper spray a dangerous weapon is unprecedented… The chilling effect on deputies unwilling to engage resisting suspects will breed hesitation and increase the potential for injury on all sides,” Villanueva told The Current Report.
Translation? Deputies are now wondering if standard-issue equipment comes with a side of federal indictment.
The Real Crime? Luna’s Leadership.
While Kirk’s conviction set a terrifying new standard for what counts as “excessive force,” the real story brewing behind the scenes is even more disturbing: Sheriff Luna allegedly handed the case to federal prosecutors himself.
That’s right — instead of allowing the Internal Criminal Investigations Bureau (ICIB) to do its job and complete a proper internal review, Sheriff Luna allegedly skipped the process entirely and fast-tracked the case straight to the feds. No subpoena. No formal request. Just a quiet directive from the eighth floor command staff telling ICIB to hand the case over to the DOJ.
No due process. No departmental closure. Just cold-blooded political sacrifice – wrapped in silence and shoved under the rug. All to protect Luna’s image, not his people.
And now, with sentencing set for April 21, the fallout is already rippling through a department that was already smoldering like a political dumpster fire.
Morale? What Morale?
Sources inside LASD report a mass exodus—deputies resigning, transferring, or retiring in droves. The department is hemorrhaging sworn personnel who no longer trust leadership not to sacrifice them when the political winds shift.
The once-proud LASD is becoming a ghost town of demoralized deputies waiting for the next headline that paints them as villains—and for many, Deputy Kirk’s conviction was the final straw.
One source summed it up bluntly:
“They’re not just quitting the department. They’re quitting a system that sees them as disposable.”
And Then Came the Memo: Baker to Vegas, Deputy Gangs, and Olympic-Level Gaslighting
Just when you thought it couldn’t get more absurd, enter Luna’s March 5th memo, where he tried to quell unrest over the Baker to Vegas race by essentially accusing protesting deputies of forming gangs.
Because apparently, boycotting a run in the desert to protest wrongful prosecution = gang affiliation.
In the memo, Luna reminded his staff of department policies against hate groups and harassment—an interesting choice, considering the event in question was a silent, peaceful refusal to participate in a symbolic team-building race.
So now, if you don’t participate, you’re a liability. If you speak up, you’re a threat. And if you enforce the law with the tools you were trained to use, well… hope you like federal court
Welcome to Luna Land: Where Station Pride = Probable Cause
Instead of tackling crime or, you know, leading the nation’s largest sheriff’s department, Luna has directed his now-infamous Internal Affairs Bureau — lovingly referred to by deputies as the “Rat Squad” — to launch an all-out assault on any deputy who dares to show a little station pride in ink.
And this isn’t your average Human Resources slap-on-the-wrist operation. This is a county-wide witch hunt dressed up as reform, with the subtlety of a bull in a china shop and the logic of a drunk magician pulling policy out of a hat.
Here’s the plot twist that would make Netflix jealous:
The very people leading this “investigation” — including Undersheriff April Tardy, Luna’s #2 — are also rocking the same tattoos they’re now pretending are signs of criminal conspiracy.
Apparently, it’s only gang-related when you’re not in the inner circle. Funny how that works.
Let’s not forget IAB investigators Ivan Brenes-Mendez (Palmdale), Walter Arcos (Norwalk), and Chad Vanden Berg (Lakewood) — all proudly inked up with station tats. But don’t worry, they’ve assured us they’re the good tattoo guys.
Think you escaped the Luna purge by moving to another agency? NOPE. The Rat Squad has reportedly been dialing up former deputies now serving elsewhere, asking them to snitch — sorry, “provide witness interviews.” And if you politely decline?
They’ll allegedly call your new boss.
And just to sweeten the intimidation, they’re reportedly emailing anti-law enforcement propaganda to your new agency to get the ball rolling. Because nothing says “we support law enforcement” like smearing a cop in another county because of a tattoo they got in 2012.
Is this a gang investigation or a reality show called “Ink Shaming with Bunker Bob”?
Meanwhile, Back in the Real World…
Crime? Rising.
Deputy morale? Trashed.
Recruitment? On life support.
Public safety? LOL.
But sure, let’s spend taxpayer dollars chasing down deputies with tattoos like they’re part of some secret Illuminati.
Spoiler alert: they’re not. These tattoos have been symbolic of station pride for decades — not criminal intent. But in Luna’s version of LASD, symbolism is dangerous, loyalty is suspicious, and common sense is contraband.
This Isn’t Reform. It’s a PR-Driven Purge.
Make no mistake — this isn’t about rooting out “deputy gangs.” It’s about optics.
It’s about appeasing political donors, woke watchdogs, and the L.A. Times editorial board who wouldn’t last five minutes on a midnight shift in Compton.
While Luna is trying to score points with activists by branding his own people as criminals — he quietly surrounds himself with the very same folks he claims to be investigating.
Fallout and 2026 Implications
And let’s not forget the smoking gun that will surely come back to bite: a now-infamous video obtained by The Current Report, originally posted to the L.A. County District Attorney’s social media shortly after Luna took office. In it, Luna isn’t just acknowledging DA George Gascón – he’s fawning over him like a rookie cadet meeting his idol.
This isn’t just garden-variety praise, it’s an unfiltered moment that exposes the dangerous ideological bromance between (at the time) L.A. County’s top two law enforcement officials. And now that clip is resurfacing with fresh scrutiny, serving as undeniable proof that what was driving our public safety crisis isn’t just bad policy — it was a mutual admiration between two men who think coddling criminals is good governance.
In the video, Luna doesn’t merely thank Gascón — he canonizes him. It’s not collaboration. It’s collusion in plain sight. A toxic alliance that actively undermined law enforcement, neutered accountability, and sent L.A. County into a tailspin of unchecked violence, smash-and-grabs, and political theater disguised as reform.
But the real gut punch? Sources say Luna knew about Gascón’s decision not to pursue the death penalty in the cold-blooded ambush of one of his own deputies, Ryan Clinkunbroomer, — before it was announced at the press conference. And instead of stepping up, Luna zipped his lips, and let the grieving family find out like the rest of us — in front of live cameras with the world watching.
That’s not professionalism.
That’s cowardice dressed in uniform.
That’s betrayal wrapped in campaign strategy.
And it tells you everything you need to know: when given the choice between standing with his fallen deputy’s family or protecting his political meal ticket, Luna chose the latter. Loud and clear.
Now, as we head toward 2026, that glossy, pre-packaged image of Luna as a “moderate reformer” is cracking under the weight of receipts. Voters aren’t buying it.
Families of fallen deputies? Furious.
Frontline deputies? Done.
And the public? Waking up.
This isn’t about justice anymore – it’s about survival. For Luna, the cost of loyalty to Gascón, and ultimately to George Soros who funded the opposition campaign in 2022 against former Sheriff Alex Villanueva, might not just be credibility or public trust.
It might be his job.
Or better yet – his legacy.
And it makes one thing chillingly clear: when forced to choose between protecting his political patrons or standing with his own deputies, Luna showed us exactly where his loyalties lie — and it wasn’t with the badge.
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