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Gresham Burger King
Gresham, Oregon
CCA
October 22, 2006 News Herald
The 19-year-old woman stripped naked in front of her boss in the manager’s room
at the Winn-Dixie on 23rd Street more than three years ago because a voice on
the phone said so. The teenager posed. She exposed. She did jumping jacks
nude. For nearly two hours, a man who said he was a police officer
orchestrated her humiliation over the phone. The voice told the girl’s boss,
assistant manager James Marvin Pate, that she stole a purse. Police believe
the man on the phone was David R. Stewart, of Fountain, said Sgt. Kevin
Miller, of the Panama City Police Department. Authorities said Stewart, 39,
made dozens of calls like this across the country for several years. The
phone hoaxes sparked lawsuits against restaurant franchisees and chains like
McDonald’s, Burger King and Applebee’s. Stewart’s first trial is scheduled to
begin Tuesday in Mount Washington, Ky. In the Kentucky case, Stewart is
accused of calling a McDonald’s on April 9, 2004, and posing as a police
officer. Police said he told McDonald’s assistant manager Donna Summers a
story similar to what the voice told the manager at the Panama City
Winn-Dixie: He said a teenage female employee, Louise Ogborn,
had stolen a purse and that she needed to be strip-searched. Summers and her
ex-boyfriend, Walter Nix Jr., strip-searched Ogborn
for about four hours, police said. Nix also had Ogborn
perform sexual acts on him — all at the request of the caller.
Mount Washington authorities charged Stewart with three counts of
solicitation to commit sexual abuse, first degree; solicitation to commit
sodomy, first degree; impersonating a police officer; and solicitation
unlawful imprisonment, second degree. Incidents since the ’90s: Authorities
said Stewart has peppered the country with calls dating back to the
mid-1990s, mostly to chain restaurants. Usually, the man calls, identifies
himself as a police officer, and says a female employee has drugs or has
stolen something and must be strip-searched. In Panama City, the nightmare
for a 19-year-old cashier began on July 12, 2003, at Winn-Dixie, when a
fellow employee told her to report to the manager’s office, according to a
PCPD incident report. According to the police report, which blacked out the
name of the victim, what happened next lasted nearly two hours: Assistant
manager Pate, 39, was waiting and handed her the phone. On the line was a man
who said he was Officer Tim Peterson with the Panama City Police Department.
The voice said she stole a purse and gave her two choices: Either strip naked
in front of Pate or be brought down to the jail, where she’d be
strip-searched in front of a lot more people. The voice also said Pate had
the authority to keep her there and strip-search her, while the voice
verified everything over the phone. The cashier agreed. Pate told her what to
take off, and she complied out of fear of being taken to jail. She placed
each item of clothing in a plastic bag. Pate described the cashier’s naked
body in intimate detail to the voice on the phone, according to the police
report. The voice commanded the cashier to pose in various positions that
exposed her breasts, anal and vaginal areas to Pate. Toward the end of the
woman’s ordeal, grocery manager Thomas Moton, 49,
entered the office looking for a a
key to unload a truck at the store’s rear dock. When he entered, the cashier
was doing jumping jacks, and Pate had the receiver to his ear. “Pate said the
boss is on the phone,” Moton said. “I thought the
store manager was on the phone.” Moton said he
thought something wasn’t right. He wanted to get the other assistant manager,
but Pate said the voice on the phone told him to stay. The cashier went
through several poses, Moton said. “She was bending
over, sitting in a chair and doing jumping jacks,” he said. When the woman
finally was allowed to leave, she put her clothes on and rushed out the door.
Moton mentioned to Pate that “if this ain’t what
it’s supposed to be, then you are out of here.” A short time later, police
tore into the parking lot and hauled off Pate in handcuffs. Police charged
Pate with lewd and lascivious behavior and false imprisonment. The charges
eventually were dropped, Miller said. Moton said he
never saw the cashier again after that night. “I didn’t even want to look her
in face,” he said. “It was so embarrassing.” Police track the caller: The
caller contacted several Wendy’s restaurants on Feb. 20, 2004, in the West
Bridgewater, Mass., area, said Detective Sgt. Victor Flaherty of the West
Bridgewater Police Department. West Bridge water is a suburb of Boston. “We
had four incidents in one night,” Flaherty said. “Some conversations lasted
more than an hour and a half.” Like the others, calls involved strip-searches
of female employees, Flaherty said. By this time, however, the trail was
leading back to Stewart, authorities said. After a story appeared in a
restaurant industry magazine about what happened in West Bridgewater,
Flaherty was flooded with calls from police agencies across the country.
Detective Buddy Stump of the Mount Washington Police Department called
Flaherty. Stump was looking for help tracing the call to the McDonald’s where
Ogborn was strip-searched. Flaherty traced the
calls made to West Bridgewater back to the Panama City area. He called the
Panama City Police Department and asked for help, Miller said. Andrea
McKenzie, a former detective with the PCPD and now an investigator with the
state attorney’s office, helped link Stewart to the calls. McKenzie said she
fielded calls from police agencies all over the country. “It was kind of
shocking,” she said. “People said the phone number was coming from the Panama
City area.” When the investigation uncovered that some of the calls were made
using a phone card, authorities got the break they needed. “Nothing in this
world is untraceable, if you put the time into it,” Flaherty said. McKenzie
tracked the date and time of when the phone cards were bought to the Wal-Mart
on 23rd Street. She pulled security video. On the video was a man wearing a
uniform from the local jail run by Corrections Corporation of America,
McKenzie said. Stewart was identified as the jail guard shown on the video,
authorities said, and police brought him to the PCPD to be interrogated by
Flaherty, who flew in from Massachusetts. When police arrested Stewart, they
found numerous police magazines and applications to police departments,
Miller said. “This guy wanted to be a cop in the worst way,” Flaherty said.
Stewart’s attorney, Steve Romines, said there is no
way his client could have been the voice on the phone. “To talk someone into
this — it is someone more eloquent than David (Stewart),” Romines
said. “He’s not dumb, but this was very sophisticated.” Flaherty disagreed
with Romines’ assessment. “I’ve been doing this for
20 years, and there is no doubt in my mind” that Stewart did it, Flaherty
said. Authorities eventually extradited Stewart in the fall 2004 from Bay
County to Mount Washington to stand trial. Panama City police didn’t go after
Stewart because they couldn’t link him to the call to the Winn-Dixie, Miller
said. Other states, meanwhile, are awaiting the outcome of the Kentucky trial
before pursuing legal action against Stewart, Flaherty said. “Oregon is still
interested in him,” Flaherty said. “In Massachusetts, I consider it a rape by
him.”
February
4, 2006 Oregonian
A former fast-food worker is suing the owners of a Gresham Burger King
franchise because she claims her supervisor ordered her to undress after
accusing her of theft two years ago. The supervisor told police he was
following the instructions of a caller who claimed he was a police officer
investigating theft. In fact, the caller is suspected of pulling a similar
scam on dozens of workers at restaurants and other stores across the country
for a decade. Last year, police arrested David R. Stewart, a former private
corrections officer from Florida. Stewart faces charges in Kentucky,
although he is suspected of making calls around the country, according to an
article in the Courier-Journal in Louisville, Ky. Officer Grant McCormick,
spokesman for the Gresham Police Department, said there was no active
investigation since the arrest. The lawsuit, which was filed Wednesday in
Multnomah County Circuit Court, describes a typical version of the scam: The
plaintiff, who was a minor, finished her shift at the Burger King at 990 N.W.
Eastman Parkway about 8:45 p.m. in February 2004. She was with her mother in
the parking lot when the manager approached and told her to return to the
restaurant. The manager told the girl's mother to wait outside. Then he
brought the plaintiff into his office where he accused her of stealing $50
from a customer and said a police officer was on the phone and needed to
speak with her. The plaintiff "spoke with the caller . . . and then was
instructed to hand the phone back to (the manager, who) then instructed (the
plaintiff) to begin disrobing and gave her a bag in which to place her clothing.
The caller instructed (the plaintiff) to remove all her clothing, including
her bra and panties, and she complied while (the manager) stood by. After she
was completely undressed and all her clothes were in the bag, (the manager)
again spoke with the caller and described how (the plaintiff) was sitting and
further advised the caller that her legs were closed. The caller instructed
(the plaintiff) to open her legs so that (the manager) could see between
them, but (the plaintiff) refused to do this," according to the suit.
After 45 minutes, the plaintiff's mother came in and told her daughter to get
dressed and leave.
Oregon Department
of Corrections
May 12, 2011 The Oregonian
The Oregon Government Ethics Commission is investigating whether a former
state prison executive violated the state's "revolving door"
prohibition by going to work for a company that won a multimillion-dollar
contract he helped advance. Michael Taaffe, 56,
started work in March for Correctional Health Partners, three days before he
went off the clock as assistant business services administrator for the state
Corrections Department's Health Services Division. Taaffe
was on a three-member panel that in March 2009 selected Correctional Health
Partners over five other bidders to manage some medical care for the state's
14,000 inmates. The company was paid $1.2 million its first year and
continues to get monthly payments of about $100,000. The disclosure is
raising eyebrows as state officials prepare to audit contracts awarded to
former state employees. The wider audit was triggered by the discovery,
reported last week in The Oregonian, that a former
Department of Administrative Services employee returned as a contractor,
earning more than $400,000. The Ethics Commission opened a preliminary inquiry
of Taaffe last month after receiving a complaint
from a state Corrections Department employee. Unlike the issues in the
pending state audit, Taaffe holds no personal
contract with the Corrections Department. Instead, he runs the Oregon prison
operation of Correctional Health Partners. Taaffe
had no comment Thursday, but his employer did. "We have no concerns
about his actions and feel he is a very ethical employee," said Jeff Archambeau of Correctional Health Partners. Asked if Taaffe took any actions for the company as a state
employee in exchange for the job, Archambeau
responded, "Absolutely and unequivocally not."
March
18, 2007 The Oregonian
Federal court statistics show that plaintiffs filed nearly 4,200 cases under
the federal Fair Labor Standards Act, which governs pay practices, in fiscal
2006, which ended Sept. 30. That's up from 4,040 cases in fiscal 2005 and
2,751 in 2003. In Portland this month, Richard Bird filed a class-action
lawsuit against his ex-employer, Aramark
Correctional Services Inc. He alleges the nationwide prison-service provider
broke Oregon laws by failing to properly pay him and co-workers when they
worked overtime, took rest periods and put in for their final paychecks. An Aramark spokeswoman said Friday that the company does not
comment on pending litigation. Those claims surfaced in a state court --
Multnomah County Circuit Court, specifically. And although Oregon doesn't
track civil cases by cause, attorneys say wage-and-hour claims are numerous
in state venues. Why the flood of cases? It's easy for employers to make a
mistake and relatively easy for employees to make them pay for it, said Nancy
Cooper, an attorney with Bullivant Houser Bailey in
Portland. Wage-and-hour rules are complicated and vary across state lines,
making national firms such as Philadelphia-based Aramark
vulnerable. Oregon, for instance, requires employers to provide paid
10-minute breaks, Cooper said. Arizona does not.
February
27, 2007 The Oregonian
Oregon corrections officials on Monday fired Fred Monem,
the state prison food manager who federal investigators claim took nearly
$700,000 in bribes from food vendors. Monem, 48,
has been on paid leave since Jan. 10, the day squads of IRS and FBI agents
searched his Salem home and state office in what has the potential to become
the biggest bribery case in Oregon history. Neither Monem
nor his wife, Karen, who was also implicated, have
been charged. Max Williams, state Corrections Department director, confirmed Monem's termination but wouldn't discuss the basis.
"You'll have to draw your own conclusions," Williams told The
Oregonian. The agency didn't announce the action, but a termination letter
obtained by The Oregonian said Monem had engaged in
"misconduct, insubordination, indolence and malfeasance."
"Your actions are egregious because you were in the role to have a
relationship with the vendors while being entrusted to maintain
business-related ethical standards," John Koreski,
a Corrections Department assistant director, said in the letter. David Angeli, Monem's attorney, had
no comment. Monem joined the state department in
1996 and was praised by supervisors in annual reviews for his management of
food purchases. The performance reviews credited Monem
with saving the state up to $10 million a biennium by shopping the
"spot" market for discounted goods for the state's 13,300 inmates.
In the spot market, Monem found deeply-discounted
foods being liquidated by name-brand producers at a fraction of the normal
wholesale price. Monem put Oregon in the forefront
of the practice among state prison systems; most states avoid buying in the
spot market, according to a survey by The Oregonian. Federal affidavits
unsealed last month in Eugene and Los Angeles cited witnesses and bank
records to assert that Monem had been taking bribes
from vendors since 2003. The vendors initially paid Monem
in cash and often met him in Las Vegas, according to the affidavits. The
allegations are based in part on statements from two former employees of a
California company, identified in the affidavits as a source of $475,000 in
bribes. According to the affidavits, Monem started
accepting checks in 2004 because the California vendor was tiring of rounding
up cash for the payoffs. With coaching from the vendors, Monem's
wife, Karen, established a corporation to take in the payments, according to
the affidavits. The vendors continued paying the Monems'
expenses for regular trips to Las Vegas. Agents searching the Monems' home in South Salem reported finding $75,000 --
nearly all of it in $100 bills -- in a safe in the garage. They found another
$455,000 in cash in the couple's safety deposit box. The vendors suspected of
paying the bribes are Levin and Lawrence Inc., which operates as Michael
Levin Trading in California, and MRB LLC of Maryland. Principals of both
firms are accused in the affidavit of handling the kickbacks. The companies
and their owners have repeatedly declined comment on the investigation.
February
4, 2007 The Oregonian
Fred Monem, the prison food executive suspected
of taking bribes, had virtually unchecked power over how the state spends
millions each year to feed state inmates, according to documents obtained by
The Oregonian and interviews with state officials. The picture of Monem's role is far different from the portrayal made by
Corrections Department officials as the kickback scandal emerged two weeks
ago. Initially, officials said he had little freedom to operate on his own.
Agency officials now concede that Monem was able to
decide on his own what food to buy and when. And although standard procedures
required someone other than Monem to get price
comparisons before his deals went through, for years he did so himself,
evading a key safeguard against fraud. Monem, 48,
and his wife, Karen, 43, are accused in federal court papers of accepting
$681,000 in kickbacks from three food companies. Monem
has been placed on paid leave, as has his brother-in-law, William Morgan Jr.,
who worked under him in the buying program. Neither the Monems
nor Morgan has been charged with a crime. As investigators from the FBI and
the IRS continue to pursue leads in the case, state documents and interviews
help piece together a clearer picture of the loose oversight under which Monem steered state business to food brokers in
California, Maryland and New York who allegedly paid kickbacks. Corrections
Department officials have praised Monem in public
and through job reviews for his work as their food services administrator,
saying he produced millions of dollars in savings for taxpayers. But
according to a federal affidavit, the vendors secretly paid Monem to buy "distressed" and hard-to-sell
products on the cheap. The Monems and Morgan have
declined comment. The Monems' Portland lawyer,
David H. Angeli, has said his clients deserve to be
presumed innocent. His job: Keep costs down: Monem's
job was to clamp down on costs for feeding 13,300 inmates in the state
system. In part, he did so by taking Oregon into the "spot" food
market, where manufacturers fix bad bets at guessing the public appetite by
selling deeply discounted products that aren't moving in grocery stores or
major restaurant chains. Operating in the fast-moving spot market, where
bargains can appear and disappear in a flash, required flexibility. Rules
allowed Monem to buy goods using purchase orders
instead of formal contracts. Goods from the three vendors suspected in the
kickback scheme represented a significant share of the spot buys ordered by Monem, corrections officials said. Concentrations of
business with a just few suppliers can be legitimate, purchasing and audit
experts told The Oregonian, but they may also signal illegal buying patterns.
The agency recently examined spot buys over five years, identifying just 15
vendors used by the agency. Officials wouldn't release the document and
couldn't say when it had ever done such an analysis before. Don Charlton, Monem's supervisor, said the concentration didn't alarm
him and raised no red flags with other corrections officials. Prison meals
are planned three months at a time, and Monem
organized his food buys by consulting with dietitians, food service managers
and warehouse managers to determine grocery needs, officials said. But when
it came to ordering, Monem alone made the decisions
and could spend up to $200,000 on a single order. "He doesn't have to
get anyone's approval," said John Koreski,
Corrections Department assistant director. At the same time, Monem was expected to discuss significant or unusual buys
with his supervisors, Charlton said. Prowling the market: Agency officials
said Monem prowled the spot market by phone, fax
and e-mail. Once he found a product at a good price, other employees were
supposed to verify the quote and seek at least two competing bids, they said.
"The quotes are obtained by a purchasing agent, not by the food services
administrator (Monem), to provide proper separation
and controls," the agency said in a written statement after the kickback
allegations surfaced. In an interview Friday, however, Koreski
and Charlton said it hasn't always worked that way. They said Monem wasn't turning over the comparison work to
purchasing agents working in another unit. Instead, Monem
"would go out to the marketplace and look for competing bids to compare
against the price he had just gotten," Koreski
said. Charlton said that when he took over his current job in early 2006, he
realized that better controls were needed in Monem's
operation. In April 2006, he promoted Monem's aide
-- Morgan -- to state purchaser, tasked with getting comparable quotes.
"(Morgan) was independent," Charlton said. But Charlton didn't know
at the time that Morgan was Monem's brother-
in-law. Federal agents first alerted corrections officials to the
relationship during a Jan. 10 search of Monem's
office. Morgan told prison officials last week that he had done outside
consulting with Monem, advising a vendor who he
said didn't do business with the Corrections Department. Morgan told
officials he received a single payment from Jamm
Inc. According to the federal affidavit, that was the company set up by Karen
Monem, who is Morgan's sister. The affidavit said Jamm Inc. was used as a conduit for at least $475,000 in
kickbacks from the vendors. Morgan, 41, was placed on leave last week after
The Oregonian asked questions about his relationship to Monem
and officials found that he hadn't disclosed the tie when he was hired seven
years ago. Before Morgan's promotion, Monem would
pass on his price quotes to a purchasing agent, who would
"sometimes" double-check the quotes or contact a vendor to get
another quote, Koreski said. He couldn't say how
often that happened. The agency last week mandated that all quotes from
vendors be obtained in writing. "It's another measure of
protection," Koreski said. Internal review on
hold: Corrections officials say they won't do an internal review of
procedures in the prison food buying program until the criminal investigation
is done. Records that would show what Monem bought,
whether he obtained comparison quotes, and who signed off on the paperwork have been turned over to federal investigators, they said.
In 2003, the Corrections Department hired an internal auditor, but Monem's operation hasn't been audited. Two years ago, the
state Audits Division examined Corrections Department contracting but found
no gaps. Auditors didn't examine the spot buy program because contracts
weren't involved. Auditors did randomly sample one Monem
purchase -- but stopped when they determined it didn't fit the purpose of
their audit. Government auditors and procurement experts say detecting
kickbacks to government workers is difficult. The flow of under-the-table
bribes to the employee doesn't show up in government records. Charles Hibner, director of the state Audits Division, said the
best chance of catching a kickback situation is for supervisors to be alert
to red flags, such as a flashy lifestyle that doesn't match a public
paycheck. Records show that Monem, who earned
$75,000 a year, bought a $77,000 BMW for his wife and invested in property on
the Oregon Coast with executives from one of the food companies. Federal
investigators say he also took dozens of trips to Las Vegas to collect cash
from his vendors. None of that appears to have caught the eyes of his
supervisors.
January
23, 2007 The Oregonian
Federal agents found more than $450,000 in cash in the home and safety
deposit box of an Oregon prison official accused of taking bribes from
companies that sell food for inmates' meals and snacks. Farhad
"Fred" Monem, who earns $75,500 a year as
the food service administrator for the Oregon Department of Corrections, was
placed on leave after IRS and FBI agents searched his home and office Jan.
10. A federal judge Friday unsealed court documents that describe a four-year
kickback scheme and detail what agents discovered during their searches. Monem's lawyer declined to comment Monday. No charges
have been filed against Monem or others allegedly
involved. Federal prosecutors declined to discuss a timeline for arrests in
the bribery scheme, which they allege included Monem's
wife, Karen, and officials from food distributors and brokers in California,
New York and Maryland. Monem, 48, was considered a
whiz kid at the prison system, credited with saving the state millions of
dollars because of his shrewd working of the commodities market. Prison
officials praised Monem for reducing the daily cost
of prison food from $2.88 to $2.30, third lowest in the nation. One food
broker praised Monem's business savvy in a March
2002 profile in The Oregonian. "He'll let you earn a living, but you're
not going to get rich off him," said Doug Levene
of 21st Century Supply. Levene, who could not be
reached for comment Monday, is one of several food industry officials accused
in federal court records of taking part in a bribery scheme that included
splashy Las Vegas casino meetings, a junket to a football game in Chicago
between the Bears and the Green Bay Packers and the creation of a shell
company allegedly controlled by Karen Monem. Court
records single out Levin & Lawrence, Inc., a wholesale food distributor
based in Santa Clarita, Calif. The company buys bulk food, some of it labeled
"distressed" because it was close to the expiration date, marks it
up and resells it for a profit. In his position, Monem
bought bulk food for inmate meals and the prison commissary. His job was to
get the cheapest price possible. But by early 2003, according to court
records, Monem was agreeing to buy large quantities
of bulk food from Levin & Lawrence in exchange for 20 percent of the
company's net profits on sales to the Oregon prison system, according to an
affidavit filed by IRS Special Agent Robert Salisbury. A
unnamed informant told federal investigators that if they ever had product
that was difficult to sell, "they would make Fred buy it,"
according to the affidavit. Michael Levin, a company official accused of
participating in the bribery scheme, declined to comment Monday. The
affidavit said Monem met repeatedly with company
officials in Las Vegas where at least initially he received cash payments. In
one meeting last year, Salisbury said he observed Monem
and Levin & Lawrence officials arrive at the Mandalay Bay Resort and
Casino by limo and check in at the VIP services desk. Over time, Levin &
Lawrence officials urged Monem to create a shell
company. Monem set up Jamm
Inc., which was controlled by his wife, according to the affidavit. Karen Monem would send invoices to Levin & Lawrence for
consulting work. Court records allege the Monems
received more than $475,000 in bribes from Levin & Lawrence and an
additional $200,000 from other food companies. Court records indicate that
the Monems invested some of the money, teaming up
with Levin & Lawrence officials to buy a rental property in Seal Rock.
But records also note that Fred Monem bought a
$77,000 BMW. Salisbury said in his affidavit that he saw Monem
drive the car to his office earlier this month. During the search of the Monems' Salem home, agents found a diamond ring worth
nearly $9,500. They say they also found baggies of marijuana and hashish.
Gov. Ted Kulongoski's spokeswoman, Anna Richter
Taylor, directed questions to the Oregon Department of Corrections. "We
don't comment on pending investigations," she said. Corrections
officials expressed dismay. "We are, of course, disappointed that
allegations have surfaced regarding a department employee. We hold ourselves
-- and all employees -- to the highest ethical standards, and we take very
seriously any suggestion that those standards have been violated," Max
Williams, director of the Corrections Department, said in a statement.
"The Department of Corrections will fully cooperate in every way to
ensure that justice is served." Court records say potential criminal
charges include mail fraud, wire fraud, bribery, conspiracy,
money laundering and filing a false federal income tax return. Court records
indicate that two former Levin & Lawrence employees, who left the company
to start their own competing food business last spring, told federal
officials about the bribery scheme. One of the unnamed informants said a
company official threatened him if he talked. In the 2002 profile in The
Oregonian, Monem boasted of his ability to buy
goods at the lowest prices. While leading a tour through the prison system's
food warehouse, he noted that he purchased a large block of Mrs. Fields
oatmeal raisin-and-nut cookies -- normally $1.98 -- for 36 cents a pack. He
also criticized government workers who feel a sense of entitlement.
"People work for so many years and feel the taxpayer owes them," he
said. "But to me, nobody deserves anything."
Salem Hospital
Salem, Oregon
Aramark
June 9, 2011 AP
Salem Hospital is unhappy with the work of a private contractor, so it
will use the commercial laundry at the Oregon State Penitentiary to clean its
microfiber mop heads. Spokeswoman Julie Howard told the Statesman Journal
that mop heads were coming back smelly and crusty from Aramark
Uniform Services and couldn't be used. She says the hospital already
contracts with the prison laundry for bed linens and staff scrubs and is
happy with the inmate labor. A spokeswoman for Aramark
in Philadelphia says it stands behind the quality of it service.
Washington County
Jail
Washington County, Oregon
Corizon (formerly Prison Health Services)
August 20, 2012 The Oregonian
The first-ever Washington County audit of its over-budget jail health
services has taken longer than expected because of legal roadblocks to
obtaining prisoner health information and contractor records, according to
county auditor John Hutzler's annual report. Tennessee-based
Corizon Correctional Healthcare, one of the largest prison healthcare
providers in the country, has a roughly $20 million, six-year contract with
Washington County. In 2011 the company merged with Prison Health Services,
the county's provider since 1997. During fiscal year 2011-12, which ended in
June, the county's jail health services went $171,000 over its
almost $4.6 million budget, according to the county's annual budget report.
"Cost overruns have been relatively common the past five, six
years," said Rod Branyan, director of the
Washington County Department of Health & Human Services. "You have
to understand the dynamics: The cost of health care is rising everywhere and
all it takes is a very sick couple of inmates to push those costs. Frankly,
we've had some really high-cost emergencies." In part to review whether
overruns were related to management issues, Hutzler
launched a jail health performance audit in October 2011. But his brief
update, to be presented to the Washington County Board of Commissioners
Tuesday morning, indicates that he only recently gained access to records,
and that the audit could now take up to another year to complete. Hutzler declined to comment before the board meeting. The
delay stemmed from an out-of-date contract that didn't list Hutzler as a county-approved officer under the Health
Insurance Portability and Accountability Act, meant to keep private health
records secure, Branyan said. But the lag also
points to a county unaccustomed to the more aggressive internal auditing that
Hutzler has launched since taking office in 2011.
The previous auditor, Alan Percell, held the
position for 28 years. "It was (Hutzler's)
first audit and what he requested was really a lot of information," Branyan said. "It took him nine months to get from
the field work to the survey." At an April meeting of a citizens group
of West Slope, Raleigh Hills and Garden Home residents, Hutzler
said he "has tried to add a professionalism" to the one-person
auditor's office, according to meeting minutes. He has added follow-up
reports to previous program audits and stressed dividing the process into
three distinct parts: survey, fieldwork and reporting. At that same Citizens
Participation Organization meeting, Hutzler
explained that the delay in accessing jail health documents "led to the
conclusion that the county needs to strengthen contract language,"
according to the minutes.
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