The Craziest Thing About the Ryan Lochte Saga Is That It Got Investigated At All

VICE Sports staff writer Aaron Gordon is in Rio for the 2016 Summer Olympics and filing daily dispatches.

The Ryan Lochte Saga has distilled so many narratives into one story it's hard to keep track. Aside from capturing the behavior of a specific type of American asshole, it has, as the New York Times put it, "unleashed a discussion around Brazil about perceptions of privilege, accountability and danger in a society where many Brazilians themselves often lament their exposure to alarming levels of violent crime and police corruption."

One of the less discussed elements is the degree to which a justice system exists for wealthy and foreign people in Rio but not for the rest of the population. Remember, this was initially an investigation where Lochte and the other Americans were victims. The sheer amount of police resources dedicated to finding out if a bunch of swimmers got robbed is virtually unheard of for millions of Cariocas.

The Olympics in general has highlighted the security inequality just fine without Lochte's douchebaggery. In Copacabana, Barra da Tijuca, and the Olympic sites around Maracanã and Deodoro, police and military can be seen on almost every block, as well as lining the routes between them. But when I drove around Ramos, a neighborhood in the North Zone outside the Olympic bubble, I didn't spot a single police officer or military soldier.

The Lochte case is an extreme but apt example of which people the police in Rio serve. "In [favelas] and suburbs, it is not very common to have a visible police presence or for crimes to be investigated than in neighborhoods that have greater purchasing power, such as the South Zone and Barra da Tijuca," said Lidiane Malanquini, coordinator of public security affairs for the non-profit Redes de Desenvolvimento da Maré. "In these areas, residents often do not seek the police in situations of conflict and crime."

Malanquini explains that decades upon decades of mistrust, corruption, and violence toward favelas and working-class residents have resulted in a toxic atmosphere where citizens don't feel they can go to the police to report any type of crime. "There is a history of interaction between police and the Maré neighborhood marked by serious human rights violations such as the invasion of homes; physical, verbal, and psychological violence," Malanquini said. "In this way, the relationship of the residents with the police is marked by mutual distrust and disbelief in the effectiveness of police work." That distrust extends not only to the police investigating the crimes but to their findings, as well, and the way they are reported in the media, which cast favela residents as criminals.

All this is to say that, for millions of Cariocas, the amount of police resources dedicated to investigate an armed robbery claim in the Lochte case is unprecedented. When someone from Maré or another favela goes to the police, the cases are rarely investigated, much less result in the involvement of federal police and judges. Even investigations into far more serious crimes, such as the murder of 11 Maré residents in June 2013 by the police, have still not been completed. And it's not just when police do the shooting. Malanquini says just five percent of homicide cases in Maré lead to an arrest and conviction.

Malanquini believes the police made this case a priority because it involved American swimmers and occurred during the Olympics. "Hardly the civil police would be able to present an investigation or response in such a short time."

Still, there is one element of the Lochte case Malanquini related to: "Armed robbery in Rio de Janeiro is part of the daily lives of residents. As soon as I heard about the case, I thought that could have occurred with any other resident or tourist."

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