Sunday, June 14, 2009
News, In this Issue..., Politics, Atlanta

Officer down

How City Hall’s neglect of police officers disabled in the line of duty affects crimefighting in Atlanta’s neighborhoods

By Stephanie Ramage

When The Sunday Paper broke the story about how Mayor Shirley Franklin’s administration systematically delays or denies care for officers injured in the line of duty in its May 17 edition under the headline “Badges, Bullets, and Broken Promises,” calls and e-mails from cops to the paper ramped up. The officers were worried that they, too, might end up paralyzed by a bullet and abandoned by city officials. Yet, when asked to go on the record with their comments for this story, all shied away, some simply because the Atlanta Police Department has a policy that generally prohibits unauthorized comments to the press, but most because they fear retaliation in the form of suspension or job loss.

“Especially when you see what they did to Sgt. Kreher,” says one, regarding the ordered psychological evaluation and suspension of local police union president Scott Kreher after he said the mayor’s neglect of disabled officers made him so angry he sometimes wanted to beat her in the head with a baseball bat. As of press time, Kreher is in his third week of suspension.

In journalism, there are rules about using anonymous sources. It’s allowed only in certain circumstances. For example, when identifying a source would expose that source to serious retaliation, like violence or the loss of employment, anonymity might be a consideration.

This is that kind of story. So we’ve given our police sources pseudonyms, and in exchange, they’ve told us what it’s like to work for the APD, knowing that officers catastrophically injured in the line of duty are being denied workers’ compensation for medical supplies and services for months or even years. The impact the scandal has had on morale has been devastating. It is also having a negative effect on the way the officers go about their work, and their work is fighting Atlanta’s crime.

“It gives you something to think about that you don’t need to be thinking about, you know, ‘God forbid I get hurt, because what would my family do then?” says Chad. “My wife worries about it all the time now. All the financial burden will fall on my family. They would have to fight to have every little bill paid. So, you’re not going to be as proactive in crimefighting as you might have been.”

But the story of the disabled officers and their battle with the city is, for most, merely the “icing on the cake”—they used those words more than once.

“We’re busting our butts and we’re all afraid that what happened to those officers could happen to us. It dampens everything. We really want to do our jobs, but now we know what happens, how the city treats officers who get hurt,” says Mark. “We were already so shorthanded, and then the furloughs happened and now there’s this to think about, because there’s always inadequate backup.”

Mark moved to Atlanta from the northeast, where he was a police officer.

“I’ve noticed a big difference here,” he says. “There are days when we’ll send only one officer to a domestic call, even though you’re supposed to send two, just because we don’t have enough guys.”

Domestic calls are widely believed to be the most dangerous calls cops get. Typically, they require two officers because the parties involved have to be separated from one another. When Officer Patricia Cocciolone responded to what turned out to be a domestic call in 1997 with her fellow officer John “Rick” Sowa, Sowa was killed and Cocciolone was shot in the head at point-blank range, sustaining brain damage. Today, she is one of the five officers, disabled in the line of duty, who have seen the City of Atlanta seriously delay payment for medical care and services.

“I didn’t even know about those officers until Kreher talked about them,” says Mark. “And I know it sounds awful, but I thought ‘I really hope nothing like that ever happens to me.’”

For now, Mark is waiting to see if a new mayor, elected next November, will make a difference in how the APD and City Hall are run. But there are others who are actively looking for police work in other cities. Some are considering leaving policing altogether, although with reservations.

Daniel loves his job, but his wife and his mother saw the story about the disabled cops, and they want him to find some other livelihood.

“My wife is scared, she reads and researches things, and she is an intelligent woman,” he says. “I am almost 40, with about 10 years on the force, still working 911 calls and patrolling the street, because that is where I feel I can do the most good for the city, but statistics show that is the time when most serious injuries and death occur on this job, for a number of reasons. She was worried about that before all this mess, so you can just imagine her outrage and fear at the thought that if, God forbid, something happens to me, she not only has to worry about the kids and her and me, but also the city and how badly they will treat us, as well.”
 
Even before the disabled officers story came out, his mother sent him a letter encouraging him to seek other employment. He shared it with SP.

“I am sorry if I nagged,” she wrote. “I just think you are worth more than the APD will give you credit for, and I have always been extremely proud of the fact that you cared so much about the people you were protecting, even if they seem to not give a crap about you. I hate to see you struggling to keep up by having to work two jobs when every day you have to put on a bulletproof vest just to go to work. I think if they at least paid you what you were worth it would be different but they don't and I hate them for it. And I love you very much.”

Daniel brings home $450 each week. He’s been working for the APD for about 10 years, but step pay increases have been frozen every year since 2002, with the exception of 2003 and 2007, so he’s making about the same amount he started with. Now, in addition to worrying about making ends meet, he worries about the consequences of simply doing his job. 

All of that is true for David, too.

“I’ve still got the job in my blood,” says David. “I love the job itself, but we have been beaten down for so long by this administration, and now you have to think, if something happens to you, what will happen to you and your family? You find yourself being more apprehensive than usual on the job. I know that now I’m not going to do something that I may have risked myself for before, because now I know if something happens, the city’s not going to back me.”

THE LONG SHADOW OF WHEELCHAIRS

Some of the officers have said that if given the choice, they’d rather be dead than in a wheelchair, because if they’re dead, at least they know their families won’t have to fight the city for medical care.

Their concern stems from the cases of Cocciolone, Detective James Biello, Detective Bob Buffington, Detective Richard Williams, and Sgt. Ryan Phinney. As detailed in this paper on May 17, those officers have seen claims for medical expenses delayed by the city for months and even years. In Biello’s case, the city delayed payment for oxygen and wheelchair repair. In Cocciolone’s—she is not in a wheelchair—it was medication to prevent debilitating migraines. For Williams, it was repairs to a van that had ventilation problems that caused pneumonia.

Buffington was wounded by a drug dealer’s bullet in 1977. He’s paralyzed as a result, and has to wear special mercury-gauged support hose* that aid circulation in his legs, otherwise he develops edema and phlebitis. According to invoices obtained by Kreher and the International Brotherhood of Police Officers union and shared with The Sunday Paper, the Atlanta Journal-Constitution and WSB, the City of Atlanta, under the Franklin administration, has paid private law firm Swift, Currie, McGhee and Hiers $37,196 to fight Buffington’s claims since 2004. Buffington says he finds that hard to believe because he and his attorney, John Sweet, so rarely got any real response from the city. But that has changed recently, and the city has agreed to pay most of his claims.

Sweet also represents Biello, Williams, and Phinney. He says they, too, have seen a recent willingness on the city’s part to pay for the paraplegics’ expenses. He credits the media spotlight for transforming the city’s attitude. Historically, says Sweet, in the vast majority of workers’ compensation cases, the city ends up paying anyway, despite forking over payments to attorneys to fight the claims. The city spent more than $25,000 battling Biello’s claims, and $24,000 on Williams. Fighting Phinney alone has brought at least $69,608 into SCM&H’s coffers.

When I ask Lisa Wade, a lead attorney on the workers’ comp cases for SCM&H, what her firm did during the hundreds of hours that added up to more than $171,000 in legal fees paid by the city’s taxpayers, she declines comment and refers me to the mayor’s office.

What, I ask Catherine Woodling, spokeswoman for Mayor Franklin, is the purpose of delaying the settlement of these claims, when ultimately, all of them are paid?

“There are a number of reasons why there is a delay in the proceedings,” she e-mails, “including, but not limited to, the need of the City to obtain additional factual information from the claimant to substantiate the claim or the request for payment. The City is insuring that there is a legal basis for payment on the claim or service(s) requested. The City is committed to working within the framework of the law to resolve and address any issues that are identified.”

When I passed an earlier, similar message along to Phinney, he responded, “What part of ‘I need to be able to get from my door to my van’ do they not understand?” One issue for Phinney was a garage door modification. The problem was that his van, outfitted for his wheelchair, didn’t fit in his garage door. His state workers’ comp board advocate had already taken a look at the problem, and most estimates put the cost at about $350. The city litigated paying for the modification for more than a year.

But in a very personal way, the garage door wasn’t the worst of it. Phinney, like many paraplegics, has experienced a string of urological problems. One common hazard is penile retraction, which makes putting in a catheter—without which most paraplegics cannot urinate—almost impossible. To fix the problem, doctors often recommend a penile implant. Without the implant, Phinney had to go through a regimen that, as he describes it to me, makes me wince. The dangers of the do-it-yourself method include tearing the interior lining of the urethra. The alternative is an unrelieved bladder that may cause shock or even stroke. Although his doctor vouched for the urgency of the situation, the city delayed approving the implant surgery for nine months. During that time, Phinney suffered 10 urinary infections.

Illinois attorney Brad Bleakney serves on the workers’ compensation advisory board for legal service  information giant LexisNexis. He says such delays are not all that uncommon with cash-strapped municipalities.

“As long as they don’t pay, they have that money in hand, and they can use it on other things,” he says, adding that delaying payment also serves to frighten disabled plaintiffs and soften them up so they’re more willing to accept less in the form of benefits. “But don’t you have a clause for vexatious delays in Georgia?”

We don’t. Attorney Sweet says Georgia is one of the worst places in the nation for a worker to get hurt. Some states assess fines for intentionally sandbagging plaintiffs. Here, courts can assess attorney’s fees against laggard employers, but most judges, says Sweet, are not very aggressive about doing so.

No wonder Atlanta’s cops are worried. And things are likely to get worse. The IBPO posted a video of the injured cops on its Web site shortly after SP’s story was published.

“After the release of the IBPO video showing the deplorable treatment our disabled officers were receiving at the hands of the Franklin administration, our officers and their families began to see how little respect is afforded those men and women who risked their lives and ended up disabled,” Kreher writes in an e-mail to SP. “I have been contacted by officers who are leaving the city just because of the video. The department has lost over 60 officers this year and will see a spike in June and July when more officers are hired away and our retirements go up as explained to the City Council in our presentation on May 20. We are on track to lose 200 officers by year’s end, yet our mayor cuts 100 positions from our budget. The morale of this department is beyond repair until a new administration steps in.” SP

*CORRECTION: AN EARLIER VERSION OF THIS STORY INCORRECTLY DESCRIBED BUFFINGTON'S SPECIAL SUPPORT HOSE AS "MERCURY-LINED." THE HOSE ARE MERCURY-GAUGED, MEANING THAT BAROMETRIC MERCURY IS USED TO MEASURE THE COMPRESSION OF THE HOSE.  THEY ARE NOT MERCURY-LINED WHICH WOULD, OF COURSE, MAKE THEM POISONOUS.  I REGRET THE ERROR. -- SR