Chapter 27: Personal Justice

I will describe a simple way to get justice for Julie Matt and myself. Getting this accomplished will restore us to our BIA jobs, in line with what the Civil Service Reform Act promised, and as an example it will improve the chances for honesty and free speech for all federal employees. This is not anarchy, there is no problem if federal employees are allowed to express their opinions, even if they must obey the existing administration and laws. Get used to the idea, men and women who can not speak are not free!
I will also ask you to join me in forming a “Friends of Whistleblower” public interest group, as a method to accomplish what must be done, to prod and push as long and as hard as necessary to get reform accomplished. Reform is not easy, so we must keep on fighting.
I can’t speak for Julie Matt, but if I can gain access (as a restored BIA employee) to meaningful work where I can reform BIA from the inside, then I will do that. If not I will resign and work from the outside, which is more likely the case. At the least, I’ll have my back pay and benefits, and my personal integrity will be officially restored.
Much of this book was written after I had to leave Montana for refuge with my mother in California, although later I would return to Montana. By now you know why I had to leave home and become sort of a political exile in my own country, because I was unable to face the prospect of living on the street or at a rescue mission. I was broke and had to vacate my basement apartment, and my Mother offered me one-way transportation to California if I would just “bail out.” My strength failed and I accepted her offer. When your world crumbles it is wonderful to have friends who care. There was a farewell party, so before we continue with things that are more important, let me share the party with you. If you had been in Billings with me, you would have been invited.
Farewell Party:
It was at Virginia’s house, the Virginia who shared Prior Sundance with me. It was in the evening, with homemade Pizza, each guest bringing a different ingredient, and some with salads and desserts. Rosemary, my civil rights singer who has the voice of an angel, came complete with guitar, looking great in a black dress. She sang for us, then asked if I wanted her to sing Amazing Grace, and you know my answer.
Vince Meyer, a brilliant physician who blew the whistle on medical malpractice, congratulated me on doing it “my way,” and gave me a recording of that song. About fifteen people, all from the Billings Unitarian Fellowship, took turns to speak loving words. Kathy Akre, a Montana NOW (National Organization for Women) officer was off on her own adventure to Saudi Arabia not long after the party. My best friend Sally Noe surprised and delighted me by coming all the way from her University duties in Bowling Green, Ohio.
I won’t list all the names, or repeat what they said, but it touched me. There was a homemade card, with words or drawings from each friend, and there were cards from those who could not come. As my strength and resolve fell apart more than anything else I needed love, and they provided just that. I thank each of them now.
Ben and Marje Pease were there. Ben is a retired educator, an Elder of Crow Nation and one of those rare individuals who lives with one foot in each of two worlds, and is comfortable and accomplished in both. Later on that couple would become close friends of mine, but at this time they were simply fellow Unitarian Church members and part of the general group of people who were seeing me off.
Ben had made me an Indian necklace complete with bear teeth, and told us the Crow meaning of the symbols and colors. To this necklace Rosemary added a symbol of her own, a piece of glitter to indicate her tears at my leaving.
Ben spoke of courage and honor, and told the others about my special relationship with the Crow People. He said the children would learn my words, and my story would be part of the oral history of the Crow People, passed down the generations.
Ben gave me an Indian blessing which assigned to me the sharp eye and speed of the antelope, and said that although I was moving camp, my spirit would remain with the Crow People always. Now 66 (in 1997), my eyesight has improved so much that I can read fine print without glasses, and those “sharp eyes” have truly become mine. To those who receive such a blessing, it is not necessary to weep when they leave, and no special notice is made when they return. Their spirit does not leave simply because the site of their camp has moved; they are bound to Crow Country and the tribe, and they are expected to return, if not in this life then in the next. In my case, I did return from California a few months later to join my spirit which had been left behind in Crow Country.
Then, one of those cherished moments a person is fortunate to find once in a lifetime. The Crow have no symbol of merit greater than the Eagle Feather, and Ben presented that to me. The meaning of this was not stated; it could be taken as an ornament or good-luck piece. With my wounded soul, stung with the defeat of a battle that seemed lost, I accept it as the badge of a Crow Warrior, one who has met the enemy bravely. To my wounded ego, it was an award for valor.
Escape to California:
After the farewell party I was escaping to California, unable to face the prospect of living “on the street,” completely broke and unemployable, with no way to make a living. Here you see where I failed to meet my own standards. In California I found work as a Christmas temporary clerk in the shoe department at the Thousand Oaks J.C. Penney store, and later as an accounting temporary with a business that was being liquidated. After that there was nothing, because employers simply don’t hire whistleblowers and I was unwilling to conceal my past. I began work on this book while I continued the appeals process through BIA and related federal agencies, and could not earn enough to support myself.
In my late fifties at that time, I was in the position of a dependent child, reduced to accepting room and board from my elderly mother. It was finally agreed that in this dependent state I could live cheaper in Montana where housing was less costly, and so I became a “remittance” man who was to receive a small allowance from home until I could earn a living, or at least collect my Social Security at age 62. Still, with this family allowance I was able to make the return trip to Montana, and there found an old and cheap single-wide trailer I could rent. I had a mattress on the floor, plastic over the loose fitting windows, retrieved a dinette set other people had thrown out, and felt fortunate to have that much. I was not willing to give up my struggle for justice despite the shame I felt as a “professional” man unable to support myself, living in poverty and accepting a family allowance. I licked my wounds, and gathered strength to continue the fight.
The Missions:
The first “mission” or thing to be accomplished, is to redress the personal problems of Julie Matt and myself. It is the least important of the list of things that need to be done, and it would look “noble” for me to forget about myself, but I’m not that noble, and I can’t continue in ruin the rest of my life with energy left over to work on causes greater than my own survival.
Third party evidence includes the letter from BIA’s chief employee, and reports from other auditors, etc. that you have learned about in this book. They all agree that my audit reports were correct. I believe the evidence is clear that what I did was required by law (to report fraud, waste and abuse) and by the fundamental principles that most of us find precious. After all this, I still remain “fired for insubordination,” my career as a CPA has been destroyed, and for almost a decade I have been subjected to great stress and a life of poverty. Being correct was not enough to win my case as a whistleblower.
When I took the oath of office to become a BIA employee, I dedicated myself to serving the needs of those Indian People who would later call me Whistleblower. It is up to you to decide whether or not I have been faithful to them, and whether or not I have honored my oath of office and earned my government salary.
The November 28, 1994 edition of U.S. News & World Report described the BIA as “The Worst Federal Agency”, and again I will take credit for being a major force that helped to expose BIA. I truly believe my effort was a worthwhile public service, and yet I have been made to pay a heavy price for speaking out. I need your help to correct this injustice.
I told you much more about my own case than about Julie Matt, but in a condensed form her case was presented to you, and in many ways it is similar to mine.
The final chapter shows how to make your choices known, and I will ask for your help. You are the court of last resort, and you with the other readers of this book collectively have the power to decide my fate and that of Julie Matt.