Chapter 16: Professional & Personal Appeals

For several years I was busy filing administrative appeals with the Bureau of Indian Affairs (BIA), the Office of Special Counsel (OSC) and the Merit Systems Protection Board (MSPB). During this period, which lasted from the time I was fired by BIA in 1986 through about April, 1990, I searched high and low for some person or institution that might provide some help. This search for help continued during my federal court appeals until the summer of 1991, although by this time my list of possible sources was growing short.
First, I thought that the professional CPA organizations I belonged to might help. After all, I had uncovered a specific “gag rule” that would prevent a federal auditor from issuing a required audit report without reprisal. This severely limited the constitutional right of free speech for federal employees, and would inhibit honest financial reporting by accountants and auditors employed by the federal government. It seemed to me that the accountant’s professional organizations would be very concerned about this.
The “Code of Professional Conduct” spells out the obligations of all CPAs. The rules of conduct for CPA’s include:
“act in a way that will serve the public interest, honor the public trust”
“shall not knowingly misrepresent facts or subordinate his or her judgment to others”
One accounting author writes that the CPA’s ethical principles “call for an unswerving commitment to honorable behavior, even at the sacrifice of personal advantage.”
Source: Michael A. Pearson, CPA, editor of The Ohio CPA Journal, in an article titled “A New Code of Professional Conduct for CPAs,” as published in the textbook “Readings and Cases in Auditing,” Sixth Edition, Dame Publications, Inc.
I contacted the American Institute of Certified Public Accountants, and various ethical bodies within that group. They offered mild interest but no help. The ethical boards discipline members for ethical violations, but on the positive side they do not support those who uphold ethical standards. I found a pattern in the answers to my letters asking for help. The first letter from me would bring a pleasant response, expressing concern for my situation, but passing over the fact that I had asked for advice, support or involvement.
My second letter would thank them, and mention that the code of ethics (that they require members to endorse) required me to do what I did, and for living up to that code my career had been destroyed. I would request help from their attorneys, or suggest that they join me as a “friend of the court” in my court pleadings. The answer to this was always negative. They would state that it was too early (or too late) to ask for help, or say they were too busy, or give a similar excuse. There might be a “well done” or “keep up the good work” remark. It was a dismissal I was not willing to accept.
My third letter would say that I just can’t take “no” as an answer, and point out their need as an organization to uphold professional ethics. I would be careful to use respectful language, and not to sound ungrateful for their earlier good wishes.
Here is the place where the organizations change direction. In the case of the national organization (the American Institute of CPA’s), the third response was a letter from their attorney, which in a polite way said to not bother them again, and that I should not quote from their earlier letters. (The earlier correspondence had been with the organization’s Chairman, Thomas Rimerman).
Letters to the Ohio Society of CPAs were cordial, and thanked me for doing the right thing, but offered no help. Their latest drive was to raise money for their PAC, and their publication listed an honor roll of those who gave the most money to the PAC. I pointed out the contrast, no support for ethical behavior, while at the same time making it an honor to pay politicians for special favors.
A letter to me from the President of the Ohio Society of CPAs, Edward M. Rose, defended the policy by stating that PAC money provides access and gets the attention of the politician. You already know what I think about that. At the least, paying for special access reduces the access of those without money and is not democratic.
In 1994, Edward M. Rose, now the former Ohio Society president, received the Society’s “Gold Metal for Meritorious Service to the Accounting Profession,” based largely on service to that Society. An article in the April, 1994 Ohio CPA Newsletter stated that he is “still very involved in the legislative process.”
Recently the CPA organizations have been pushing to get an exemption from the federal criminal law, known as RICO. CPAs were arguing that the RICO laws should not apply to them, purely self-interest.
The Montana Society of CPAs was very considerate, and referred my request to their attorneys. They would at least consider filing a “friend of the court” brief in my Supreme Court case. The attorney’s opinion was that this would cost a substantial amount of money, and that appeals like mine seldom win. The administrators were truly sorry to tell me “no,” and it would have been unkind to remind them about unswerving commitment.
I was a pain in the neck because I was a reminder that when it might cost something, the accounting organizations do not support the ethics they talk about. Faced with an unswerving commitment, they swerved. This is not intended to cast a shadow on the accounting organizations alone, because their response is typical of our institutions at large. In recent history, few (if any) of the churches in Germany objected to the Jewish Holocaust, and closer to home our churches in years past were delighted to deny religious freedom to Native Americans. During our dark period of slavery too many of our churches supported both slavery and the subordination of women with quotations from the Bible.
Common Cause was another organization I tried, and it does help a few whistleblowers, but they were fully committed with other cases. The U.S. Department of Justice did not respond, nor did any of the dozen or more federal offices I contacted. Not responding is an effective way to do nothing without having to say so in writing; the process often called stonewalling.
The Justice Department was one of my tormentors, not a champion of civil rights. At the time that I was appealing through administrative channels, their attorneys were paid to defend BIA. When Crow Chairman Richard Real Bird brought his lawsuit against BIA, Justice Department operatives found the time and money to began their sting operation against him, as reported in another chapter. During that same period, according to many newspaper articles, a substantial amount of Justice Department staff time and effort was used to keep their department head, Attorney General Ed Meese, out of jail.
The Government Accountability Project (GAP) was kind and provided helpful information, but they were tied-up with other cases and had no funds for mine. Common Cause and GAP are both legitimate organizations, but it is necessary for a whistleblower to use caution, some groups are really front organizations that hide behind commendable names.
Organizations that have federal funding (such as the United States Institute for Peace Studies) may in part serve a worthy purpose, but there’s a catch for the unwary. I heard their Dr. David Little speak at a college gathering in Billings in March, 1994. In his opening remarks he mentioned briefly that the Institute’s role was limited to issues that are not critical of the federal government, or that might interfere with foreign policy. He then made an analysis of some problems in other countries.
During a question period, I asked Dr. Little how he could accept the restriction on his free speech, and as an educator addressing college people, how he viewed this limitation on academic freedom. He can discuss human rights issues, but if, for instance, our federal policy were to ignore human rights issues in China, so that we can sell Coca-Cola or Pepsi to that nation, he is inhibited from discussing it. Dr. Little fielded my answer skillfully, stating that in their private capacities the Institute staff can speak honestly.
To the best of my knowledge, members of organizations such as this (in contrast to CPAs) do not oblige themselves to honor the “public trust” and they do not subscribe to a code of ethical conduct. That does not make Dr. Little a bad person, but I suggest that any audience listening to the opinions of an expert should be aware of built-in conditions that inhibit honesty.
In searching for legal help, I contacted several local law firms, and some with a national reputation, one at a time. Each one told me about the doctrine of sovereign immunity which protects BIA from lawsuits. There is a price for justice, and I had no money. With a substantial cash advance some were willing to get involved, but after years of spinning my wheels in alphabet soup (BIA, OSC, MSPB and the like), I was broke. The federal law allows no damages, so there is no “contingent fee” money to attract lawyers.
The American Civil Liberties Union of Montana bought lunch, and said they wanted to take the case, but it would be several months before they would know if they could do it. After that time I was told they did not have the necessary funds. I know Scott Crichton well, as the current Montana Director of ACLU. He is a most decent man and sympathetic to my cause, but ACLU simply doesn’t have enough money to honor many of the cases that deserve help.
I was unable to get work in Montana, except low paid work during two winter tax seasons (1987 and 1988) at Billings firms. After the first winter, there were some unemployment benefits. I tried day labor and horse grooming, but there wasn’t much of that and there is a stigma to whistleblowing; people devoted to some other cause are not employable. I am sorry to relate dismal things to you, but if you want to know this story then you must hear the sad parts too.
This was my first real experience with poverty. In a way it was voluntary, because I could always just give up and leave. To me it seemed better to stay and fight than to give up and run away, so I stuck it out. Poverty is also relative, and I may seem like a cry-baby in comparison to the many people who are much worse off than I was. Still, I had been a professional man, and the contrast between past good earnings and poverty was hard for me to handle.
Poverty is tough, and all those around me had to pay part of my price. My landlord, a really fine man named Dave Selby, carried me without rent for six months. During that time he paid my utilities, and on occasion gave me food when I did not have enough to eat, and loaned me money. Dave and his friend Lois Layton were always kind and thoughtful. There were never any reminders about the overdue rent; they were more concerned about me than about themselves. Finally there came a time when I had to head for the street, as Dave Selby simply couldn’t carry my housing costs any longer, and I felt sorry to have been such a burden to him. I am proud to know Dave and yet I was causing him harm from my poverty. The evil caused by the Bill Benjamin’s of the world spreads out like a plague carrying harm to many innocent parties.
There were no birthday or Christmas gifts for my three adult children, and nothing for my granddaughter Angela. No cards or courtesies (that cost money) for my aged mother, or for other relatives. They all had to share my problem, yet none of them deserved it and I became a burden and a cause for their concern. This business of becoming a martyr was not my goal, and I have kicked and rebelled against it all the way. I want justice, and see nothing noble about suffering in silence.
Some of these money problems hurt your pride. Eating with a group of close friends at a restaurant, someone will say “here, sit with us” and you learn that means they will pick up the check; they know I’m broke and want to help. I protest that I’ve already eaten, but they see I’ve lost weight, know I’m lying and order a large meal for me. That wears thin very soon, and you get the feeling that they’d rather not have you around.
There are little things; having coffee with a woman friend, and seeing her look of concern when the small check comes. She wonders if I can pay it or if she should risk my embarrassment by slipping me some cash, and I’m painfully aware of her discomfort as well as my own.
As a single man, there is the problem of dating without money. Dinner and dancing is impossible, when even a hamburger (she would buy her own) is out of the question. Doing things with a group is frightening, since almost every event requires money. Do “we” stay outside while “they” go in, and should she forego all little pleasures because of me and learn to like it? How many years can this go on?
The vexing personal problems are not just about money. Whistleblowing can have a “saintly” image among those who support what you are doing and see your struggle as a heroic deed; they put you on a platform and then feel obligated to support you in every way, which also causes them to resent you.
So, back to dating. You cause some minor offense or real friction, but “she” thinks that to be supportive of you as a person means that she must absorb your offense and not object. Now she is angry, but she swallows the anger and feels guilty for having it, which can poison a relationship and you feel that growing between you.
You see this “saintly” platform building as a barrier between you and your friends, and try to make light of your situation so the friendships can be normal and easy. And then walking through a shopping mall with friends an Indian woman says “I know who you are” and asks you to bless her children and could she touch your hand, and then some Indian men stand up when you walk by as if you were a flag. You are marked, there is no escape, and you wonder how you got into this mess. A saint? Never. It is their need to put me on a platform, not mine. It is unreal and I don’t like it.
As a widower, most of my personal relationships are with single adults, who almost all come from failed marriages with a strong fear of serious relationships. Since my second marriage was loving until we were parted by death some years ago, I cherish the ideal of a committed and caring relationship with a woman. I do not fear marriage and must tell you that I am deeply in love; I have found the joy of my life and I love her with boundless enthusiasm that knows no ending.
But as a whistleblower, what do I offer my beloved? There can be no romantic dinners out, no lovely weekend trips, no prospect of nest-building with a nice home and secure future. These things are the pleasant trappings and surroundings that lovers use to entice a woman, and my competition has every one of those advantages and more, while I worry about bald tires and a gas tank that reads “empty,” and whether or not the pipes will freeze with the gas heat disconnected for non-payment.
I offer deep poverty and commitment to a cause which has produced pain, hardship and ruin. Even if personal charm and romantic magic is enough to overcome all competition, is it truly loving and considerate of me to ask my beloved to give up everything to share the life I offer?
The answer is obvious to me, and it is agony. I would uplift my love with an open hand, not grasp her in my closed fist like a possession. If I truly love, then I must value her more than self and pull away. Anything else would be selfish and unkind. I was not looking for agony.
Before I hit bottom and had to leave Montana in November, 1988, I sold most possessions such as the Scotty camping trailer, and lived for a while on that and what I could get from pawn shops. I did my best to eat on $2.50 weekly, which is almost impossible. I discovered I was losing five pounds a week and in time realized I was actually starving. My trousers overlapped eight inches, and belts were too loose even in the tightest hole, and my gums were bleeding, but there was no money for a dentist, better food or vitamin pills.
If you really want to take off pounds, I can give you my diet, although it’s not healthy. It was dried kidney beans, rice and powdered milk, with an occasional onion and rarely some canned tomatoes. I was tempted to steal from gardens at night, but didn’t do it. After the first month I found the sight or smell of powdered milk made me sick, so I ate just beans and rice, and when I could afford it, potatoes. I was too obstinate at that time to take food stamps, although later I did accept stamps for a few months.
In time the diet became so uninteresting that I ate less and less, and had to force myself to eat once a day. If you want to lose weight, I absolutely guarantee it. The diet is so tiresome and absolutely fat free that after a few months not eating at all will seem better, and you dream about bacon and sausage.
There was no way to go to a physician if I got sick, and some of my teeth became loose, probably from poor nutrition. I could not afford a dentist, and owed both my former dentist and several other people with no hope of paying them. With no gas for the car, I walked and rationed out my postage stamps and hoped the phone service would last another week. I cut my own hair using a mirror. My debts were well over ten thousand dollars and I could not afford the cost to go bankrupt.
Finally hunger drove me to a place of the poor, and I stood in line with destitute Indian men and women for a box of Family Services charity food. When one of the Indian people waiting for food recognized me and told the others, they stood up for me. I appreciated their kindness, but was ashamed because I was a white man with other choices, and they had none.
When I could borrow no more, the Unitarians passed the hat for me. I was an educated professional man with options, but they were not judgmental about my failure, and did not question my motives or judgment. Some brought food as well as money. The Church gave me over four hundred dollars, but that didn’t last very long.
During this period when I was scraping bottom, a young Crow man offered some information. I am embarrassed to repeat it, but it tells much about these people some call heathen savages, and you should know about it. These words from Burton Pretty On Top are etched on my brain, so I can repeat them almost exactly.
“Dave, you don’t understand the Crow Way. We take care of our own. My fathers [clan Elders] show you great honor, so you are my uncle. The people all know you. You can go to any house on the reservation, and the family will give you the best chair to sit on. They will cook meat and give you a feast. You will have the best bed, and you can stay as long as you want. No Crow family would refuse you.
I was also told the Crow would pass the hat for me if I would allow it, but I could not do those things. I had too much pride to ask poor people to share their few things with me.
And then there was hope, real hope of a good job working for a tribal government doing what I know how to do. There was an opening exactly fitted for my skills and experience. At first I did not understand why I did not get the job. Among Indian people, rather than go face to face on important matters, it is the custom to use a personal representative, so I asked a Crow friend to find out the answer for me. He inquired, and the answer he brought turned that final hope to ashes.
No Indian tribe could hire me, ever. BIA would know about it immediately, and there would be punishment for any tribe that dared do it. If that sounds to you like Indians are cowards, think again. BIA controls their daily lives and they have been taught to fear it for generations. Their race and culture mark them as Indian, they have no escape from BIA, and the children and elderly would be made to suffer along with the others because of me.
Ignoring the specifics of my case, there is a general mind-set against the whistleblower. I have heard the words disloyal, rat, fink, tattletale, trouble maker, rabble rouser, complainer, and worse. One of the hardest things for me to deal with has been the criticism from my mother.
My mother is a lovely woman with a bright and practical outlook on life, who (during 1994) is in her 100th year of life. In total she has been my greatest supporter, but there were times along the way when her judgment seemed harsh and it hurt me deeply.
Mom has been a widow almost thirty years, has a sunny and positive outlook on life, and is never a complainer. She lives in a condominium in Thousand Oaks, California, a suburb a few miles North of Los Angeles. I moved in with her temporarily for about a month in October, 1985, after leaving Kalispell and before the job came through with the Bureau of Indian Affairs.
In California I quickly found a very promising job with a local CPA firm, and Mom felt I was not very logical when I gave it up to accept lower paying work with BIA in Montana. Her judgment was pragmatic and based entirely on money, but since my children were grown and I had only myself to support, she could accept my choice as not very smart but still within the bounds of reason. At that time I was in a little financial distress, but still not what you would call destitute.
I was in Montana almost three years before once again returning to California. The first year, or a little less, was spent working for BIA, and then the next two years were consumed by various appeals. By late October, 1988 I was destitute and faced with the choice of either living on the street, or seeking refuge with Mom.
I faltered at the prospect of being on the street among unshaved old men drinking from wine bottles. So when I had gone as far as I was willing to go, I called my mother in California. She promised one way passage to California and I failed myself, I said I would come.
When I arrived there, Mom was sympathetic in a personal way, but was unable to accept that I had become a financial failure. I had now been fired “for cause” by BIA, largely unemployed during the first two years of my appeals process, was three years older, and no longer had an unblemished record of successful employment. Her approach at that time was something like this.
Here you are, a skilled CPA in your prime earning years unable to support yourself and living like a bum. You are a failure, you are foolish and you should be ashamed of yourself.
Your clothes are worn out, there are rust holes in that old Jeep (don’t park that thing out front where the neighbors will see it), you need to see a dentist about your teeth and a barber about your hair.
You have no realistic expectations of winning. Put this all behind you, forget about it and get busy earning a living for yourself. You should be providing financial help for me and for your children and grandchildren instead of living in poverty.
Your first obligation is to earn enough money to support yourself well and provide for your retirement. Next, to help out financially with your family members. If you get that all done and still have time and money left over, then you can afford to get involved with your social issues.
Mother saw what I was doing as a time wasting hobby rather than as worthy work. Work produces money, and since I had none of that what I was doing was simply a waste of time. The next approach from my mother was that I must have become a communist because I was complaining publicly about the government. It took some months for her to decide I was not a communist, and then the label was changed to “leftist.” There was something seriously wrong with my morals, ethics and attitudes. To dissent is negative, and to ask for better is rabble rousing. I should get off it and quit being a failure.
In her view at that time, poverty and most misfortune were caused by lack of personal merit. They (a term applied to any group of unfortunate people) simply lack the “right stuff,” and could improve “their” lot if they really tried. The results are sad but deserved. Mom was unable to understand or accept that Indians are victims of deliberate mistreatment.
This is not said to put Mom down as I love her dearly and she has been good to me in every way, but simply to present a most common outlook that huge numbers of people adopt without question. It’s a very common worldview, and to many simply part of the American tradition.
Mom’s attitudes have changed a lot over the years. She now finds it understandable that I do what I do, and that although my whistleblowing and civil rights activities may be rather foolish (as a cause doomed for failure), she no longer sees it as “leftist” or unpatriotic. My actions now are seen as morally acceptable, and she understands that I must continue what I am doing. She gave me an allowance to use to return to Montana, and covered my living expenses for about two years of unemployment until I became eligible for social security. She now endorses my choice to follow the dictates of my conscience, no matter where that leads, and she sees minorities in a more favorable light. That’s a tremendous turn around, which was painful for her. Thanks, Mom, for believing in me and for your love.
Another contact in California was a successful executive in the defense industry. This person fits the standard for a good and successful man, and indeed there is much that is commendable about his life, but he sees nothing wrong in making large donations to his employer’s Political Action Committee.
He finds my hope for Indians to control their own land to be absurd, and told me so. He says it will never happen in a million years, and his opinion is based on common sense. It is a matter of who has the money and power, and Indians have neither. I am mentally deranged to waste my life on “a bunch of drunken Indians and niggers” and he thinks that is nuts. (I was dismayed to hear those unforgivable words used, but feel that I must report honestly to you). Again, I am a CPA in my prime earning years unable to support myself and that is beyond understanding.
He believes there will be another war, and being in defense is patriotic to insure that our side wins. He supports the political far right, and is suspicious that I just might be a traitor to my country. I have done nothing commendable but am simply a fool who wastes time on lost causes. That view is pragmatic, and I would not repeat these thoughts except for the fact that I have heard similar words so often from so many. People who are at the far-right in politics, and even in their religious beliefs, have said words of hate too often to be ignored.
Reprisal done against me personally is not very significant compared to the deliberate harm done to thousands of Indians. Looking back at the past provides some perspective about the way we have treated (and continue to treat) our fellow Americans.
I can’t easily pronounce the word in the Crow language that is the proper name for the tribe, but it is often written in English as Absaraka, Absaroka, or Absorkee. I have learned to say ab-sol-liguh, in a slurred way, and that seems to get by. Absaraka is the title of a book written by Margaret Carrington, the wife of an Army officer. In 1866 and 1867 she was part of a military expedition that established a fort in the “home of the Crows” in the general vicinity of what is now Sheridan, Wyoming. She kept a detailed diary of the journey and stay at the fort. The book is easily read, and I believe it should be required reading in grade school as an American History assignment.
Her account describes the journey as a social event, almost a party. On the journey some of the officers entertained them in “black face.” They did not see that as degrading Afro Americans, just good fun. In the same way going to “punish” Indians who wanted to keep their land was a patriotic deed. Indians were “wicked” for resisting the theft of their homeland. The Crow were generally friendly to the whites, but the invaders still wanted their land.
The Christian chaplain thought it was the “right thing to kill as many of the varmit as possible.” The word punish is used over and over, and punish is what the soldiers did. Their purpose was to open a route for carrying out gold, and to move whites in to take the land. Indians (mostly the Sioux at that moment) were in the way and needed to be killed.
The officers and their wives had picnics, ate canned lobster, oysters and salmon, and celebrated the “land of the free and home of the brave.” Every reference to the Crow called them friendly, yet the purpose of the expedition was stated as “destroying the Indians of the Northwest.” A negative feature of economic systems (including capitalism) is that they justify killing people for financial gain. Money gets ranked ahead of human beings, especially if the humans are foreign or different, and cultural values are trashed by military strength.
If you start thinking the holocaust was something foreign, then read The Blackfeet by John C. Ewers. Governor Edgerton of the new territory of Montana is quoted as saying that he would “take steps for the extinguishment of Indian title in this territory, in order that our lands may be brought into market.” Again, killing Indians for profit.
In one attack by Colonel Baker, on a friendly band of Blackfeet, the soldiers killed 173 Indians and captured 140 women and children. The U.S. Army burned the village and the winter’s food provisions. The temperature was twenty degrees below zero. From similar accounts I assume that the women and some of the children were raped before they were turned loose to freeze to death.
A later recount showed fifteen male braves, ninety women, and fifty children under twelve years of age dead at the hands of our Army. White settlers in Montana vigorously approved the Army’s action. Now the surviving Blackfeet were starving, and had only government rations. BIA shipped them some bacon, but the agency doctor reported it was “so filled with worms and pervaded by stench that it was unfit for human food.”
During 1883 and 1884 between four and five hundred Blackfeet starved to death, and yes, they did eat the bacon and the maggots. There was not much relief until “wives and daughters were offered to soldiers” as prostitutes in return for food. Please remember that when you hear jokes about “half-breed” Indians. These soldiers were our grandfathers, and the children of rape are our cousins.
Many civilizations drown the misbegotten; Indians accepted and loved the children of rape. White settlers in Montana were invariably Christian, and this is part of our heritage. Your children must be taught its message so they will not continue the horror against others or become the victims of it themselves.
A good book about the Sioux is titled The Last Days of the Sioux Nation, by Robert M. Utley. It describes how the federal agents worked to strip the chiefs of their influence and to break up the tribal relationship. Food supplies were low, and to avoid starving, people were required to bypass their chiefs, which worked to destroy tribal authority. This same method is used by BIA today to erode tribal self-government.
The Secretary of the Interior declared dancing (including the Sundance) and other religious ceremonies illegal. Children were often taken from their parents by force. Every meaningful custom was attacked or prohibited. The Sioux were reported to feel bitter and helpless, and developed profound distrust for the white man. Can you blame them?
The Sioux relinquished most of their land, which is now North and South Dakota. The federal government offered fifty cents an acre, and resold the land to whites at $1.25 per acre. It was said that this was done in the best interest of the Indians. The profit from the Sioux helped finance the American civil war, which is another American story of death and destruction. The Civil War is one of the few cases in the history of modern man where military forces were sent to punish non-combatant civilians.
Sioux country is where Chief Sitting Bull was murdered as BIA police were arresting him for not preventing Sioux dances. The massacre of over 150 Indians took place two weeks later at nearby Wounded Knee. The dead at Wounded Knee included 44 women and 18 children. Several soldiers were awarded the Congressional Medal of Honor, for this slaughter of innocent civilian captives, an atrocity that should concern every American!!.
Of the six hundred books listed under the heading of “Indians” at a local library, I have read well over half. If there is a stereotype, it is in the similar pattern found in these books. Humans were killed with gusto to get their property for the fastest possible return on the dollar. The land itself was not valued. If it was necessary to destroy the land forever in return for quick profits, it was done.
If you read anything by an Indian author, in most cases you find the going heavy. It must be almost impossible for an Indian author to avoid strong feelings of bitterness. The bitterness and sorrow are so great that the reader has a tough time staying with the book. Like detailed accounts of the Jewish holocaust, the horror is so great that it is natural to turn away. Your senses say “enough”; that was somebody else long ago or far away, it has nothing to do with me.
It does have everything to do with you and me. It is the account of our fathers yesterday, and of ourselves today. Together we can reform our systems and institutions so it won’t happen again.