The Christian Law Enforcement Fellowship, or CLEF, has dissolved, according to a former chaplain interviewed by Voice of San Diego. The organization's website has also been taken offline, and Voice reported that calls and emails to roughly a dozen people with current or former ties to the group went unanswered. Former CLEF president Jerry Hara, a retired San Diego Police Department captain who initially defended the controversial appointment, also reportedly stopped responding to calls.
The extraordinary collapse comes less than two weeks after it came to light that former San Diego County Sheriff's Deputy Richard "Ricky" Fischer had resurfaced inside San Diego's law-enforcement community as a CLEF chaplain. Fischer pleaded guilty in 2019 to seven criminal counts stemming from misconduct involving 16 women, including four felony counts of assault and battery under color of authority. More than 20 women ultimately accused him of conduct ranging from unwanted groping and kissing to forcing women to perform oral sex.
SanDiegoVille detailed Fischer's disturbing history last month, including allegations involving women who had been stopped or detained by him and others who had actually called law enforcement seeking help. Prosecutors said Fischer sometimes returned to women's homes after calls had been cleared from dispatch and other deputies were gone.
Yet years after a judge told Fischer that he had "disgraced" his uniform, CLEF brought him back into a position built around trust, counseling police officers experiencing some of the most sensitive moments of their lives.
What makes CLEF's sudden demise particularly remarkable is how quickly the organization's position unraveled. When Fischer's appointment initially became public, Hara vigorously defended it as a story of Christian redemption. He said Fischer was attending seminary, had been vetted by the organization and was a changed man who could use his own experience with criminal prosecution and incarceration to help troubled officers.
"There are cops that are desperately, desperately hurting. They're in legal trouble, they've been arrested," Hara told NBC 7, arguing that Fischer could relate to them because he had experienced those circumstances himself. CLEF had ministered to Fischer during his prosecution and incarceration before eventually bringing him into the organization. But the explanation did little to contain the backlash.
State Sen. Catherine Blakespear said the revelation made her "blood boil" and contacted Sheriff Kelly Martinez, District Attorney Summer Stephan and other officials. Martinez herself said Fischer's appointment was "disgraceful," according to Voice of San Diego, while retired Sheriff's Commander Dave Myers argued that someone who had abused the authority and trust associated with a badge should never again occupy such a position of trust.
CLEF quickly reversed itself. On September 1, Hara apologized for what he called a "flawed decision," saying the organization had been "overzealous" in attempting to help Fischer through his redemption and had failed to sufficiently consider the harm to his victims, law-enforcement agencies and taxpayers. The board announced Fischer had been removed as a missionary chaplain and "completely separated" from the ministry.
That apparently wasn't enough to save CLEF. Within days, the organization itself was gone.
CLEF wasn't simply an obscure online ministry. The nonprofit described itself as a non-denominational Christian organization dedicated to outreach within San Diego County's law-enforcement community. It offered counseling and mentorship to officers, hosted prayer breakfasts, marriage retreats and "spiritual wellness" events, and promoted itself as a resource for active and retired local, state and federal law-enforcement personnel.
Its leadership had significant law-enforcement connections. Hara spent 35 years with SDPD. Its leadership also included retired officers and people who served as current law-enforcement chaplains. The organization itself dates back decades: Resurrection Presbyterian Church credits former SDPD officer Herb Smith with establishing CLEF and chaplaincy programs for SDPD, the Sheriff's Department and District Attorney's Office. That makes its sudden dissolution more significant than merely shutting down a website.
Just weeks ago, CLEF's own site was soliciting donations and telling prospective supporters that their generosity helped provide law-enforcement officers with the "biblical foundation they need to lead with integrity, wisdom, and righteousness." The site promoted free spiritual-wellness gatherings for members of law enforcement and described spiritual wellness as a "necessity" for people working on the front lines of justice. Today, visitors to the organization's website are instead greeted with a generic hosting message: "Site Currently Unavailable."
Dissolving the organization may end CLEF, but it doesn't answer how the Fischer decision happened in the first place. Former CLEF chaplain Joe Davis told Voice that he and his wife attended a board meeting about a month ago where Fischer was introduced as a new chaplain. According to Davis, leadership characterized Fischer as someone who had done "some things bad in the past" and served time, but he said he did not understand the true extent of Fischer's criminal history until a supporter contacted him after news reports appeared.
"If I was made aware of that, I would have voiced my opinion," Davis told Voice. "I don't know what happened behind the scenes."
That last sentence may be the most important one left behind by CLEF's collapse. Who actually approved Fischer's appointment? What information was presented to the board? What did CLEF's purported "vetting" process entail? Which board members knew the full details of his convictions and the allegations involving more than 20 women? Why was Fischer's history apparently minimized when he was introduced to at least one chaplain? And why, after initially insisting Fischer had been properly vetted and was qualified to counsel vulnerable officers, did the organization go from defending him to firing him to dissolving itself in a matter of days?
There is currently no public evidence establishing that CLEF was concealing additional misconduct, and its abrupt dissolution should not itself be treated as proof that it was. But the organization's disappearance makes those unanswered governance questions more difficult - not less important - to resolve.
There was another eyebrow-raising detail before CLEF disappeared. Sheriff Kelly Martinez's photograph had been prominently displayed on a CLEF webpage. But the Sheriff's Department said Martinez didn't know her image was being used and requested that it be removed after learning Fischer was featured on the organization's website. The Sheriff's Office made its position on Fischer unmistakable.
"Richard Fischer was terminated as a Sheriff's Office employee in February 2019," the department said. "He was convicted of crimes and behavior that are not acceptable for any member of the Sheriff's Office."
That revelation raises a broader issue about how closely CLEF's public presentation matched its actual relationships with the law-enforcement agencies and officials it served. CLEF unquestionably had real connections to San Diego law enforcement, but displaying the county sheriff on its website without her knowledge demonstrates why the precise nature of those relationships matters.
For all of the unanswered questions, Davis told Voice that CLEF had also performed meaningful work during its long existence, making its destruction particularly unfortunate.
"A lot of good was done for almost forty years," he said. "From beginning to end, it's just sad."
But Davis also offered perhaps the simplest explanation yet for why an organization that survived for decades couldn't survive this controversy.
"You've become toxic to the community that you were created … to help," he told Voice.
That toxicity developed with astonishing speed. In late August, CLEF was publicly defending its decision to give Fischer another position of trust within San Diego law enforcement. Days later, it apologized and expelled him. Days after that, the website disappeared. Now a former chaplain confirms that the organization itself has dissolved.
CLEF asked San Diego for "grace and forgiveness" when it removed Fischer and promised that it would "endeavor to do better." Instead, there apparently won't be a CLEF left to do better.
And while the organization may have disappeared, the central question surrounding its final days remains very much alive: How did a group whose mission depended so heavily on trust make a decision this consequential - and who, exactly, knew what before it was made? Most importantly, what else did they have to hide?
There is currently no public evidence establishing that CLEF was concealing additional misconduct, and its abrupt dissolution should not itself be treated as proof that it was. But the organization's disappearance makes those unanswered governance questions more difficult - not less important - to resolve.
There was another eyebrow-raising detail before CLEF disappeared. Sheriff Kelly Martinez's photograph had been prominently displayed on a CLEF webpage. But the Sheriff's Department said Martinez didn't know her image was being used and requested that it be removed after learning Fischer was featured on the organization's website. The Sheriff's Office made its position on Fischer unmistakable.
"Richard Fischer was terminated as a Sheriff's Office employee in February 2019," the department said. "He was convicted of crimes and behavior that are not acceptable for any member of the Sheriff's Office."
That revelation raises a broader issue about how closely CLEF's public presentation matched its actual relationships with the law-enforcement agencies and officials it served. CLEF unquestionably had real connections to San Diego law enforcement, but displaying the county sheriff on its website without her knowledge demonstrates why the precise nature of those relationships matters.
For all of the unanswered questions, Davis told Voice that CLEF had also performed meaningful work during its long existence, making its destruction particularly unfortunate.
"A lot of good was done for almost forty years," he said. "From beginning to end, it's just sad."
But Davis also offered perhaps the simplest explanation yet for why an organization that survived for decades couldn't survive this controversy.
"You've become toxic to the community that you were created … to help," he told Voice.
That toxicity developed with astonishing speed. In late August, CLEF was publicly defending its decision to give Fischer another position of trust within San Diego law enforcement. Days later, it apologized and expelled him. Days after that, the website disappeared. Now a former chaplain confirms that the organization itself has dissolved.
CLEF asked San Diego for "grace and forgiveness" when it removed Fischer and promised that it would "endeavor to do better." Instead, there apparently won't be a CLEF left to do better.
And while the organization may have disappeared, the central question surrounding its final days remains very much alive: How did a group whose mission depended so heavily on trust make a decision this consequential - and who, exactly, knew what before it was made? Most importantly, what else did they have to hide?
Originally published on September 9, 2026. Information first reported by Voice of San Diego.
