D4 – Cat. 01

Children Feared Dead

Kate Knable & Tom Lange Daily Journal (Franklin)

Three times, they went inside a burning Nineveh home to try to rescue the two babies inside. Each time, the flames drove them back. First, the mother went in, after telling her oldest daughter to get out of their second floor duplex. Her 6-month-old and almost 2-year-old children, believed to be daughters, were still inside. A Prince’s Lakes police officer arrived, and he, too, tried to go in and get them out but was overcome by smoke and flames. Three Nineveh firefighters had raced to the scene and tried to rescue the children. They, too, were driven back. Three hours after frantic callers reported a blaze that was higher than the trees and could be seen from blocks away, the Bargersville Fire Department turned over the investigation to the Johnson County coroner’s office, the sheriff’s office and the Indiana State Fire Marshal. Investigators were waiting on a search warrant to go through the home late Friday. The fire was not believed to be a crime, but officials planned to treat it that way just in case, Sheriff Doug Cox said. Firefighters feared the two children were still inside and know that they could not have survived the blaze, Bargersville Fire Chief Jason Ramey said. “By all means, it’s probably the worst incident we can encounter,” Ramey said. The family members’ names have not been released. Coroner Craig Lutz began interviewing witnesses while firefighters searched the second floor of the home with flashlights. The second floor was barely a shell. The fire broke out just before 5 p.m. at a two-story home in the 1100 block of East County Road 775S in Nineveh. By 8 p.m., with the mother at an Indianapolis hospital fighting for her life from burns and smoke inhalation, the oldest daughter released to family and the two remaining children unaccounted for, firefighters said they were no longer searching for survivors. The father in the family of five was not home when the fire started. He arrived and was taken to Indianapolis to be with his wife, Ramey said. The oldest daughter, who is 5 or 6 years old, was not injured, Ramey said. The blaze engulfed the house quickly. A neighbor said he heard screams, looked outside and saw flames coming out the front door. Another neighbor said the flames were so high they could be seen over the tops of trees from a block away. “The whole front end of the house just erupted,” said Don Pauley, who works down the street. One woman said she heard screaming and thought children were playing. When the yelling continued, she saw an injured woman in the street and the house on fire. Amanda Robertson, who lives across the street, saw the mother outside, trying to go back in, but the stairs were on fire. She had burns from head to toe, and her hair was blackened, Robertson said. The mother was wrapped in blankets until emergency workers arrived and repeated over and over, “My babies, my babies,” Robertson said. The mother was taken first to Johnson Memorial Hospital in Franklin, then to Wishard Memorial Hospital in Indianapolis in a medical helicopter. Her condition was not available late Friday. The fire burned for more than 90 minutes. Mostly volunteer firefighters from eight departments fought the blaze. They arrived within 10 minutes, Ramey said. At one point, firefighters had to retreat and fight the blaze from outside because it had become too dangerous, and they were waiting on a utility crew to shut off the gas to the home. The gas meter was burning, Ramey said. Electric lines nearby also caught fire, making it difficult for firefighters to get their equipment close for a while, Ramey said. D4 – Cat. 02

The virtual campaign

Maribeth Vaughn Daily Reporter (Greenfield)

Though yard signs are just beginning to dot yards and roadsides in Hancock County, the names and faces of local candidates have been scrolling across smartphone displays and computer screens for months now in a trend that’s changing the way candidates reach voters. Facebook is being tapped by local candidates as a way to spread their message and gain support for the May 6 primary election. While most aren’t ditching traditional forms of campaigning, they say the obvious trend toward spreading information online is something that can’t be ignored in the race for the popular vote. “Facebook ‘likes’ do not vote, but the people who ‘like’ do,” said incumbent Prosecutor Michael Griffin, pointing to the 1,676 followers of his campaign page. “I hope that is some indication of approval on the job we’ve been doing.” And if Facebook “likes” could vote, Griffin would be well ahead of his challenger. Brent Eaton has only a quarter of the Facebook followers. But both acknowledge that while the social media site is a tool to reach out to potential voters, it’s not the only means of earning the Republican nomination. “It’s like anything: I don’t think it’s wise to rely on any one medium exclusively,” said Eaton. “You want to try to have some overlaps to reach people in different ways.” That’s the key in a successful campaign, said Brandon Waite, a local expert on the effect of social media on election campaigns. Waite, an assistant professor of political science at Ball State University, has been studying the issue seven years, dating to just before Barack Obama successfully rode the wave of social media in the 2008 presidential election. “In 2008, Obama got all the hype for capturing the youth vote and reaching out through social media to them,” Waite said. “In the last six years, demographics – particularly Facebook and Twitter – have completely changed. The demographics have gotten older, they’ve gotten more politically diverse.” While Facebook was only open to college students years ago, more older, politically conservative users have hopped onto the site. And though it was a must-have for national campaigns six years ago, now it’s also a necessity for city and county candidates as well. “As a lot of conservatives are distrustful of mainstream media; they’re increasingly going to social media to get their news,” Waite said. “For campaigns, it means it is an opportunity to reach out to people through alternate media channels.” Waite said local candidates can characterize themselves and their campaigns on their own terms with Facebook. And it’s free. “Online social media should supplement or complement your traditional campaign, rather than replace it,” Waite added, because those who rely only on the Internet could fall behind those who still go door-to-door and shake the hands of local voters. Local candidates use both their personal pages and campaign sites to spread their messages, and most only occasionally post pictures from local events or announcements for fundraisers. Sheriff candidates Mike Shepherd and Donnie Munden say they’ll continue to get out in the community and meet voters in person. But neither is ignoring the social media trend. “It’s just another tool to be able to use to get the word out. It’s a free tool to use,” said Shepherd, the incumbent. Challenger Munden said he was “one of those stubborn old people” who didn’t think he’d ever get a Facebook page but now has not only a personal site but a campaign site. “Fortunately, there are some of my friends who have several hundred or several thousand friends,” Munden added. “If I send them something and ask them to repost it, it spreads like wildfire.” Still, there are some who don’t use Facebook at all. “I don’t even know how to get on Facebook. My phone doesn’t do anything but call,” said Monty Zapf, candidate for Hancock County Council, District 1. “I would hate to say I’m old-fashioned, but I just never got into that.” But his opponents have. John Jessup and Jeannine Gray both use Facebook to post campaign information. “We all have our circle of friends, so how effective is it, really?” Gray said. “Your friends are going to vote for you anyway.” And while Gray will be putting out yard signs, attending meetings and sending out mailers, she also plans to up the ante on her Facebook posts over the next four weeks. Jessup, the incumbent, said he used Facebook for his first campaign four years ago. “I’m OK with social media because I’m very comfortable with who I am and what I believe, and I’m very consistent with my viewpoints, which makes it easy to be consistent with social media,” he said. While a few dabble in Twitter – the social media site that uses messaging in 140- character increments – many local candidates say Facebook is the most popular site among local voters. Jessup said he will still set up yard signs and visit people door-to-door, but he’s not sure if he’ll spend the money on postcards. Facebook, he added, helps with name recognition, while pieces of mail probably just end up in the trash. “Mailers and postcards – I know what I do with them. I don’t read them,” he said. “I would rather see ‘Jessup’ come up on a smartphone or computer screen hundreds of times.” Most of the local candidates use Facebook for free, but Griffin is one of the few that pays the site to advertise his page. That, he says, leads to more “likes” and puts his posts at the top of news feeds. “It’s an outlet to broadcast all kinds of things important to a campaign: photos, announcements, information about the candidate, opportunities to get involved,” he said. “If you can think of it, it’s a medium to accomplish it.” And while the site allows for plenty of positive interaction, sometimes candidates have to monitor their image and decide how to handle not-so-complimentary posts and protect their image. Just this week, Griffin chose to delete comments from his page. Monday, Griffin used his campaign page to respond to a campaign mailer from Eaton. Griffin pointed to what he believes were discrepancies, and in turn received more than a dozen positive comments from supporters. But not everything was positive. Greenfield resident Jim Teeter said he criticized the prosecutor in the Facebook thread for not responding to problems he’d had, and that led to another person offering up a critique, too. Teeter said those comments were quickly deleted, and now he’s been blocked from posting anything on Griffin’s page at all. “I got booted out. I just don’t think that’s right that they don’t allow people to make comments that the other people can read,” Teeter said. “But it was his site, and his people put it out there, so people can do whatever they want to do.” Griffin said he doesn’t know Teeter or the situation he was referring to, and said sometimes people criticize the prosecutor’s office for problems from the previous administration. He deleted the negative comments and blocked Teeter from the site, but he said he’s open to answering questions or even leaving negative posts if they had something to do with his term of office. “Probably 90 percent or more of the people who are posting on the page are genuinely, sincerely interested in getting information,” he said. “For them, I’m very willing to talk to them. But I can pretty quickly identify people who are reasonable and there to talk, and people who are just there to harass.” It was actually Obama’s 2008 presidential victory that attracted Griffin to Facebook in the first place. As a new Republican Party chairman at the time, he wanted to find out what all the hype was about. These days, Griffin said, Facebook is a necessary tool in an effective campaign, even more so than a static website that displays campaign promises. While he still acknowledges the importance of a face-to-face handshake, Griffin says the “thumbs-up” sign on Facebook is effective because it allows him to connect with thousands of potential voters. “One of the fascinating things about social media is the ability to interact with voters,” he said. D4 – Cat. 03

Clark County Drug Court

Gary Popp The News & Tribune (Jeffersonville)

A Clark County judge has ordered an investigation following the incarceration of a participant in the Clark County Drug Treatment program. That probe by a private investigator is complete but is not being released by Vicki Carmichael, the judge who hired the private investigator, nor Jerry Jacobi, the judge that requested it. However, the investigation’s invoice points to the arrest of a participant in Clark County’s drug court, which is overseen by Jacobi’s Circuit Court No. 2. The invoice, obtained from the Clark County Auditor’s Office, reveals the investigation was conducted by Fleeman Investigations Inc., of Sellersburg, for $1,050 for 15 hours billed. The findings of the investigation – paid for by public tax dollars – have been deemed a personnel matter and, therefore, have not been disclosed to the News and Tribune, despite a public information request. The invoice has the signature of Carmichael, Clark County Circuit Court No. 4 judge. Carmichael, the presiding circuit court judge in Clark County, recently said she had retained the services of Jack Fleeman after Jacobi had come to her requesting the investigation into his court’s personnel. Jacobi could have requested the investigation without Carmichael’s approval, but his decision to proceed though her was acceptable procedure, Carmichael said. Jacobi’s circuit court hosts and shares an overview of the drug court program with the Clark County Probation Department. Carmichael and Jacobi have reviewed the investigation report from Fleeman, but she said she would not discuss the findings. Jacobi repeatedly declined a request for an interview. While no one has made a confirmation on the record, it appears the investigation Fleeman conducted was into Clark County Drug Treatment Program officials making contact with one of the program’s participants in the community, specifically an incident involving bailiff Jeremy Snelling placing the participant in handcuffs while Susan Knoebel, the drug court’s director, supervised. It is unknown if other incidents involving drug court officials were included in Fleeman’s investigation. The invoice of Fleeman’s investigation does shed some light on undisclosed findings, as a portion of the invoice reads “Hendrick arrest.” James Dakota Hendrick, 21, is a Clark County Drug Treatment Court participant who was arrested Sept. 23 after being taken from his place of employment, Rocky’s Sub Pub restaurant in Jeffersonville. Hendrick said Snelling and Knoebel entered the business about 2:30 p.m. that day, and he was handcuffed by Snelling while inside the restaurant and that he was then put into a county vehicle and taken by the two to the Michael L. Becher Adult Correctional Complex where he then began a 32-day jail stint for violating terms of drug court. Snelling has said he has never placed a drug court participant in handcuffs. Knoebel said she had, at one point, witnessed Snelling put a drug court participant in hand restraints, but declined to say who, when or where. Without the investigation being disclosed, many questions remain unanswered – including procedures of program officials during field visits with drug court participants – but what is clear is the cozy nature of the ordering of the investigation. At Jacobi’s request, Carmichael hired Fleeman, a bailiff in Clark County Circuit Court No. 1 and husband of one of her court staff members, and the invoice Fleeman provided was approved by Clark County Auditor Monty Snelling, the father of Jeremy Snelling, who is believed to be a subject of the investigation. DRUG COURT DIRECTOR Knoebel was interviewed with her attorney Larry Wilder present – Wilder said he expects to be paid with taxpayer dollars – during the conversation in her office Friday, Jan. 3. The two said that Knoebel was not permitted to speak about any specific drug court participant because of state and federal confidentiality rights. Knoebel did say she has made nearly 100 field visits with drug court participants in the last year. When asked how many of those calls she made with Snelling, Knoebel said, “I can’t give you an exact number of the two of us, specifically, because they [field visits] have been done with more than just the two of us. Case managers have also done those.” Knoebel said of the field visits she has made in that time, a law enforcement agency was present, “not very often.” She said during field visits that she, Snelling and the drug court’s caseworkers all arm themselves with firearms for safety and wear badges for identification. “We go out. We verify addresses. We just verify their living arrangements making sure they live in a clean and sober environment,” she said. Some of the field visits go further than an address verification, however, as some drug court participants, such as Hendrick, have been contacted in the community and taken to jail by drug court staff members. During the interview, Knoebel was told that Snelling has previously said that he has served “transportation warrants” during field visits to drug court participants who have an active warrant for their arrests, and that Snelling said he will inform the participant that a warrant is active for his or her arrest and then, essentially, will offer that person a ride to the jail, if the participant “surrenders.” Knoebel said that was a fair characterization of the field visits, clarifying that if a person agrees to come with drug court staff during a field visit, those staff members will transport the person to the Clark County jail for incarceration. Knoebel said Snelling was assigned to the drug court staff by Jacobi, and when he is in the field he is not working as a bailiff, but under her supervision as a “field officer.” Early in the interview, Knoebel denied that she or any of her drug court staff had ever drawn a firearm or placed a participant in handcuffs during a field visit. She later provided clarification: “I did not say I was never with Snelling when someone was placed in handcuffs. You asked if I had ever placed anybody in handcuffs, and I have never placed anybody in handcuffs. And, you asked if I or Snelling had ever arrested anyone, and we have not arrested anyone.” While Knoebel says she and her staff don’t have arrest authority and haven’t made arrests, she also said, “We have ... Mr. Snelling has placed someone in handcuffs for the voluntary surrender and transportation back to the jail pursuant to the [drug court] handbook, so a warrant can be served once they arrive at the jail.” She also provided a copy of the manual, Indiana Probation Safety and Security. Knoebel said the document is approved by the Indiana Judicial Center and had been adopted by the head of the Clark County Probation Department, Henry Ford. A introductory caveat of the manual includes the following statement, “This is not an official publication of the Indiana Supreme Court, nor should it be considered an authoritative statement of Indiana Law.” Knoebel attributed her staff’s authority to handcuff and transport drug court participants, in the safety manual’s Chapter 7, Transportation. The chapter reads that “probation officers may be required to transport adult or juvenile probations.” While the document approves of a probation officer transporting participants, it does not say that a field officer, such as Snelling, has the authority. Knoebel said she believes Snelling had the power to place a participant in handcuffs because it took place under her direct supervision. Knoebel said a person with no law enforcement training can be granted the power to carry a firearm and badge and enter the community and place people in handcuffs before taking them to jail, as long as they are a Clark County employee and receive Jacobi’s approval. Snelling has denied ever placing a drug court participant in handcuffs or drawing a firearm during a field visit. JERRY WESTMORELAND Intimidation and the impersonation of law enforcement is how the director of a Jeffersonville halfway house described the presence of Knoebel and Snelling during a late-night field visit to his establishment in September. Jerry Westmoreland, the director of Jerry’s Place Recovery House, located on Eighth Street, said Knoebel and Snelling came to Jerry’s Place about 10:30 p.m. in late September, but he wasn’t sure of the exact date. “My house manager called me and said that Knoebel and Jeremy [Snelling] were there checking on the guys,” Westmoreland said. Of the nearly 25 men who reside at Jerry’s Place – all with histories of drug or alcohol abuse – Westmoreland said Knoebel and Snelling were only interested in about five residents, all participants of the Clark County Drug Court Treatment Program. All the men were away from the home, with permission from Westmoreland, at the time of Knoebel and Snelling’s arrival. Westmoreland explained that he rewards his clients’ good behavior by providing passes that allow them to be away from the facility, but Knoebel and Snelling took issue with his rules. “This is their [Knoebel and Snelling’s] deal. They try to run my program. If I think someone deserves a pass, if they earn a pass, I will give them a pass,” Westmoreland said. “Well, they didn’t like it. So, they called them [the participants] back [to the facility].” Westmoreland said he became upset after Knoebel and Snelling told him told him how to operate his program. He said Knoebel and Snelling wore badges and carried firearms onto the property in what he says was an act of intimidation. He said his other non-drug court clients in the home at the time also found Knoebel and Snelling’s actions to be threatening. Knoebel has said that she does not agree with Westmoreland’s characterization of her and Snelling at his facility. “To my knowledge, no. I have never felt that I have intimidated Mr. Westmoreland,” Knoebel said. “Every visit I have had with Mr. Westmoreland has been cordial, and I have never impersonated a police officer. Not to any halfway house director. Not to any halfway house. To anyone.” Westmoreland said all of the participants, excluding Hendrick, returned to Jerry’s Place after they were contacted by phone. Westmoreland said he had explained to Knoebel and Snelling that Hendrick’s cell phone was broken, offered them an alternative number to reach Hendrick, and told them he knew where Hendrick was located at the time. Westmoreland said the two told him, “I don’t care. We are going to revoke him.” Westmoreland said he regularly works closely with court officials and receives clients from all four Clark County Circuit courts in addition to Floyd, Harrison, Scott and Washington counties and Kentucky, but has only experienced, what he considers, intimidation tactics with officials from Clark County Circuit Court No. 2. No one was taken into custody during Knoebel’s and Snelling’s visit to Jerry’s Place, and Westmoreland said, nearly three months later, he still isn’t sure why they visited his establishment. “That’s what I could not understand, what their purpose was,” Westmoreland said. “They [Knoebel and Snelling] have a real problem wanting to intimidate people, from what I hear. But, I have seen it. After I seen it, myself, I believe it. “I am in the business of helping other people. But I can’t help them if those type of people are going to intimidate them.” Westmoreland said that two days after the visit, he was contacted by Knoebel and Snelling and told them that Hendrick had returned to Jerry’s Place before his curfew two nights before. “He did everything he was supposed to do in my program,” Westmoreland said of Hendrick. JAMES DAKOTA ‘CODY’ HENDRICK Hendrick gave an account to the News and Tribune of what happened during the field visit that he claims was made by Snelling and Knoebel at Rocky’s Sub Pub on Sept. 23. He first explained that after returning to Jerry’s Place from his authorized pass from the facility, he was told of the field visit the night before. Hendrick said it was cause for concern that he was not there during their visit. Hendrick said he immediately called the drug court emergency phone number and left a message that he had returned to Jerry’s Place and could be reached, if needed. The call was returned, which Hendrick said he missed, but a voicemail was left that he paraphrased as saying, “We know you were on weekend pass. Call with any questions.” He said the message was left on his phone by a drug court case worker. The next day, Hendrick went to work at Rocky’s where he works as a host. He said that he had received a call from the Rocky’s phone from another case manger saying he needed to physically check in with drug court staff, “as soon as possible.” Hendrick said he felt it was permissible to wait until his work shift ended – hours later around 2:30 p.m. – to make the face-to-face check-in. At some point during the day, Knoebel obtained a warrant for Hendrick’s arrest. According to court records, the warrant was requested for “ …. participant’s continued non-response to drug court staff.” Hendrick has a blemished record of violations after entering the drug court program in or near May 2012. Court records show at least four violations, including one positive drug screen and missing community service. Hendrick’s Clark County arrest history shows two sets of criminal charges, once in March 2011, at the age of 19, and again in December 2011. Both arrests were marijuana- related and led to a total of four class D felony and two misdemeanors charges. Since entering the drug program, Hendrick, who remains in the program and lives at Jerry’s Place, has not been charged of any new criminal activity. He has only been found in violation of drug court rules, according to court records. Westmoreland, who has been involved in the staffing committee of the Clark County Drug Court Treatment Program, said it appears the drug court officials are not adhering to the spirit of the program. “One of the things we really force some of the people [drug court participants] is to get honest,” he said. “So, if they [drug court officials] are not honest, how can we put other people in jail for not being honest? Am I right?” D4 – Cat. 04

A SLEIGHT OF HAND

Amanda Beam The News & Tribune (Jeffersonville)

In the middle of a person’s palm near their life line, a spot exists that when poked causes a burst of discomfort. It’s the funny bone of the hand, if you will. The body automatically reacts to the contact. Your fingers gnarl down into a claw as the sensation travels along the nerves, up your wrist until it finally dissipates around your forearm. When I can’t keep my emotions in check during group, this is the place I prod for comfort. From the get go, the ladies at Survivors of Abuse Restored [otherwise known appropriately as SOAR] warned this night was the most difficult of the 12 sessions. Each week, the support groups they sponsor conquer a different chapter in selected workbooks. This evening, as part of the lesson, the facilitators asked each woman to share aloud a memory of her sexual abuse. Under the table, away from the stares of the six women around me, I forced a car key into my palm to get through the moment. Even though each of them has experienced abuse firsthand, the story is tough to get through. Writing about my abuse is one thing. Speaking about it is entirely another. During my turn, my voice cracked while my talking quickened. Bile crept up my throat. Smells came to mind, somehow filling the room. Horrible, terrible scents of things children shouldn’t know. To snap out of it, I stabbed the metal into my hand even harder. The sting brought me back to reality and away from the memories. Self-inflicted pain isn’t the best way to control emotions. I know that, and would never advocate it as a solution for anyone. Still, it’s not uncommon. Women cut for the same reasons. At times you feel these methods are the only way to escape the encroaching darkness intact. Not every survivor has a memory. That doesn’t mean the molestation didn’t happen. Some block the tragic events from their past. Try and try as they will, these folks cannot share the trauma because their minds still won’t let them feel the pain, which can cause a lot of frustration. As much as some want to remember, others like me need to forget their instances of abuse. We trick ourselves into thinking that’s what’s required to lead normal lives. So we bury the secrets deep inside behind walls that few can tear down. Somehow, though, the most unlikely of triggers can knock holes through the mortar. Triggers. Welcome to one of the many buzzwords you learn in group. A trigger is anything that reminds you of the abuse. It’s like Superman’s kryptonite. Both emotional and physical responses may become involved, and some survivors actually have flashbacks or zone out entirely when confronted with such reminders. Survivors don’t always realize the connection between the trigger and the past act. For me, the feel of polyester and the scent of cheap musk always made me uneasy. So do men with moustaches. Through time, you learn to identify these irrational fears and confront them. Am I still leery of pools, one of the places my abuse took place? Yes. But understanding where the anxiety comes from at least takes the edge off and makes you feel less crazy. When survivors enter a support group to further the healing process, we dig up these demons. The theory goes you must confront the past fully before you can put back the pieces of your childhood. Sharing a particular instance in our own personal struggle can help with this. Vocalizing removes some of the shame and stigma associated with the molestation, as well as shining a light on the secrecy that normally surrounds the abuse. Recovery doesn’t happen overnight. It can take years and years to deal with all the memories and the feelings associated with them. Boy, do those emotions cover the gamut. Hate. Pity. Sadness. Rage. Fright. Shame. If you name it, you’ll most likely feel it. And it absolutely stinks. Yet, at the end of the 12 weeks, most survivors say confronting the past is worth it. You can’t poke your own palm when you’re holding on to someone else’s. That’s what support groups do. We all need a hand once in a while. When offered, it’s up to each of us to grab it. With one out of every three women being subjected to sexual abuse by the time they reach 18, the need for organizations like SOAR Ministries is great. A new session begins next month. Donations are always accepted to help pay for materials, but are not mandatory. Those who can’t contribute financially are always welcome. For more information, contact SOAR at 812-590-2426, or through their website soarministry.org. D4 – Cat. 05

Miss Indiana is motivated by her past

Roger Schneider The Goshen News

A horrible criminal act perpetrated on her could have pushed Mekayla Diehl down a dark path. But through her personal strength, faith and courage, she has moved on and will represent Elkhart County and Indiana tonight in the Miss USA contest as Miss Indiana. We so want her to win. Since becoming Miss Indiana, Diehl has made it her mission to help children in trouble by working through Bashor Children’s Home in Goshen. She knows about trouble at a young age. When she was 8 a trusted family friend sexually abused her at her Union, Michigan home. Because her parents were dysfunctional at the time due to drug abuse, the perpetrator wasn’t prosecuted and she did not receive the support and help she needed. Then others stepped in who cared. She and her brother were adopted by Katie Stauffer of Bristol. She became active in many events and especially liked to dance. Then she decided to try participating in pageants. She found her calling. Diehl has been Miss Bristol Homecoming Queen, Miss Elkhart County 4-H Fair, Miss Elkhart County, the runner-up in the Miss America Miss Indiana pageant and then captured the Miss Indiana Miss USA crown. Along her journey her parents have improved their lives and have reconciled with Diehl. By the way, Diehl is a Native American and a win by her would be a cultural first in the Miss USA pageant. All of this information she has posted on her Facebook page. This public telling of her story will surely help other young people who have been victimized and wonder just how they can find peace and a way forward. Tonight Diehl will compete in Baton Rouge, La. for the national title. While Diehl certainly possesses the necessary physical qualities to wear the crown, we think her personal journey and how she has overcome a great obstacle and embraced the troubles of others, is certainly worth every judge’s vote. D4 – Cat. 06

Common ground

Jim Mayfield Daily Reporter (Greenfield)

Situated firmly as the world’s second-largest soybean producer and predicted in some quarters to soon surpass the United States for the top spot, it’s no wonder farmers in Brazil and the United States like to keep an eye on each other. A few years ago, Hancock County farmer and Indiana Soybean Alliance Board member Jim Cherry threw in with a contingent of American growers to visit Brazil to view farming and growing operations there. Wednesday, about 40 Brazilian soybean farmers and agricultural representatives stopped their charter bus at Cherry’s 3,000acre corn and soybean operation off CR 100S on a 10-day trip through the Midwest to return the favor. Sponsored by a local agricultural co-op in Mato Grasso, one of two major Brazilian soybean producing states and the third-largest in the South American country, the visiting farmers listened to and queried their Hoosier counterparts on topics ranging from government involvement in the agriculture industry to farm ownership. On the former topic, farmers from both hemispheres uniformly agreed farming would be best left to the farmers without the assistance of Washington or Brasilia. “The American farmer wants the government out of agriculture,” Cherry told the group. “There is now more worldwide demand, and we’re more interested now in the government just letting us grow our crop. We’ll sell it.” Cezar Bronzel, a grower from Campo Mourao in Parana, Brazil’s other soybean producing powerhouse, echoed a similar sentiment from farmers in his country. “The government does not work for us,” he said. Farm ownership, however, was a completely different matter, Bronzel said. In his country, the majority of farmland is farmer-owned, and the concept of leasing crop land from others was more than a bit foreign to him, he said. When Cherry explained that only about half to one-third of Corn Belt cropland was owned by the farmer who worked it, Bronzel, wearing a headset and communicating through an interpreter, was visibly confused by the notion. “He thinks it’s crazy someone owns the land but does not farm it,” the interpreter said. The amount of land in Brazil is one of the factors that has allowed the country’s soybean production to explode in recent years. Terry Vissing, who farms 1,500 acres near Marysville in Southeastern Indiana, was one of the American farmers who visited Brazil. “We don’t have the land you have,” said Vissing, who was part of the American contingent Wednesday. “We drove 100 miles there without seeing a town. We don’t have that here.” That amount of arable land allowed Brazil to move 6.57 million metric tons of soybeans to market in June, which was down from a record 7.95 million metric tons in May, according to Minneapolis-based Corn & Soybean Digest. That competition for a piece of the world market was not far from the surface of discussion at Wednesday’s meeting, and both sides agreed there were no significant trade issues, as long as everyone received equal treatment from governments and suppliers. “There’s plenty of room for everyone,” said Huntington County corn and bean grower Jerry Osterholt, who works a farm near Roanoke, southwest of Fort Wayne. Cherry, a fourth-generation farmer who works his operation with his sons, said his prime concern was simply that farmers in both countries operate on a level playing field. “I want everyone to do well,” he said, smiling. “I just want to make sure I’m doing as well as they are.” Given a maintenance barn full of farmers, however, the conversation ultimately turned to farming, pure and simple. Nematodes, planting seasons, replanting, land prices, development pressure from nearby cities and soil quality were all among the topics on farmers’ minds – as well as what appears to be a universal quest to keep the kids on the farm. “In Brazil, our young people are all going to university,” said Paulo Diaz. “They do not want to learn about the farm.” Over a farm lunch of barbecued pork, baked beans, cole slaw and – what else – apple pie (with an ample sampling of chocolate-covered, homegrown, Midwestern soybeans on the side), it became clear that regardless of which America one farms, there’s more to life than simply soybeans and corn. Fernando Becker, a 25-year-old chemical engineer, soil sampler and farmer, follows and was impressed with the Indianapolis 500. And as Brazil prepares to host the World Cup in 2014, the visitors bragged on their national soccer team, which will be one of the favorites in the tournament. But when all was said and done, there was also a mutual respect. “They’re good farmers,” Cherry said. “We all have the same opportunities.” D4 – Cat. 08

‘If he hadn’t found me, I would have died’

Bill Engle Palladium-Item (Richmond)

Dave Hickman remembers it like it was yesterday, the day 58 years ago that changed his life forever. The 73-year-old Tennessee man was then a 14-year-old Richmond kid, hunting with his grandfather, Clay Smith, in woods just west of Boston, Ind. He and his grandfather, a man he idolized for the doting care he brought to their relationship, had just finished hunting and had begun skinning squirrels in a field off Indiana 122. It was shortly after 6 p.m. Sept. 22, 1955. A noise interrupted their post-hunt reverie, like a soft cry or coo. They heard it again. Hickman decided to find out what it was, a harmless, curious decision that saved a human life. He walked the fence row for about 25 yards to where the noise seemed to emanate. Then he started to climb the fence. “When I was on top of the fence I saw her,” Hickman said. It was a tiny baby, alone, chilled, drenched from the overnight rain, wrapped in a towel, umbilical cord coagulated to the fabric of the towel. Police later said she was there for 12 to 24 hours. Doctors said she was no more than 5 or 6 days old. There was no doubt she had been left there to die. “Every day I see that vision of her laying in the brush and sticks and she was looking up at me. She wasn’t crying. It was more like she was cooing. You could tell she had been there a while,” Hickman said. “It was a shock. You just would never think you would find a baby laying out there. I remember thinking, ‘What kind of person would do something like this?’” The two rescued the infant, called the Wayne County Sheriff’s Department and the baby was whisked away to Reid Hospital where she was treated. She was named Roseann Wayne, Roseann because the people in the Wayne County Welfare Department, in whose custody she was placed, liked the name and Wayne for Wayne County. Authorities never determined who dumped the baby along the roadside. A faint laundry mark on the towel in which she was wrapped was their only clue. The welfare department fielded a dozen calls from couples wanting to adopt the baby. Applicants were recorded and told no plans for the baby’s future would be made until she was strong enough to leave the hospital. The child survived and began to grow. Hickman, a man of strong Christian faith, has been haunted by the memory throughout his life, including his recollection of the day months later at Dennis Middle School when he was called to the office to find two nurses and Baby Roseann. “She was being adopted out and they brought her so I could hold her, to say goodbye,” Hickman said. “She was so beautiful, sound asleep, wrapped in a blanket. My emotions just took over.” Hickman’s search Flash forward 58 years to Dec. 9, 2013. John Catey of Richmond opened a letter from Hickman asking for Catey’s help in finding Baby Roseann. Hickman said he and wife Gaile had been searching for 40 years for the infant he found in the woods. “He said he continually wondered what happened to Roseann and how wonderful it would be to just talk to her and find out what her life has been like,” Catey said. Over the years, Hickman had written to officials at Wayne County, Reid Hospital and the Palladium- Item seeking information. He even wrote to former sheriff Edward “Corky” Cordell. He got nowhere. Finally, he wrote to Catey, the retired two-term Wayne County sheriff and former county commissioner and councilman. Catey was up to the task. He immediately called Hickman, who lives in Vonore, Tenn., a town of 1,462 south and west of Knoxville. “He told me, ‘I’m going to do everything I can to get you two together by Christmas,’” Hickman said. “I thought that would be a miracle.” Catey found court information on adoptions and welfare records concerning juveniles remain sealed and not open to the public, so he resorted to old-fashioned dogged police work to find clues. He used his contacts in the county and in county government, his knowledge of the area and his own determination. He was stymied much more often than rewarded with solid information. People had died. Others didn’t remember or their memories strayed. Still, he moved systematically from one clue to the next. “I’ll bet I talked to 75 people, bankers, attorneys, nurses, physicians, veterinarians. I knew they had to be old to remember this. They’ve got to be 80 or better,” Catey said. “I got lucky.” At 9 a.m. on Dec. 22, Catey called Hickman at home in Tennessee. “He said, ‘Write down this name and write down this phone number.’ He said, ‘Dave, that’s your Roseann.’ I had been trying to find her. I had spent so many years worrying about what had happened to her. “It was truly amazing,” he said. Hickman called. “When I heard her voice, I couldn’t talk. The emotions overcame me,” Hickman said. “I gave the phone to my wife, and she talked to her. After a little bit, then I could talk to her. There was an instant bond between Ellen and me. “It’s almost as if she was my baby. It certainly has had quite an effect on me,” he said. Catey’s search In fewer than 30 days, Catey had found Mary Ellen Suey. For Catey, it was like a police investigation. “That’s my background,” he said. “You just keep digging until you find something to build on.” For instance, Catey wanted to talk to Julian Benner, former Boston town marshal, who helped with the rescue and the investigation into the baby’s abandonment, but Benner was deceased. So he talked to Benner’s widow, Meta Jane, who remembered the last name of the family who adopted Roseann “might” have started with the letter “T.” Meta Jane also told Catey a woman had come around in the early 1990s, looking for the two who had found the baby. Another source said the family who adopted the baby was a prominent one in Wayne County. Retired Cambridge City contractor Jim Sweet gave Catey the name of Dr. Everett Test, a veterinarian who lived in the area in the 1950s before moving to Maryland. Sweet told him to talk to veterinarian Dr. Mark Woodward, who knew Everett Test. Woodward gave Catey the name of Test’s son and his wife, Merwin and Marga Test. Catey used that information to establish a family relationship that landed him on the doorstep of Kevin Shendler, who lives south of Richmond. Shendler works for Catey’s son Mike at Contract Industrial Tooling in Richmond, and the Shendlers live down the road from the Cateys. “(Shendler) said that Merwin and Marga Test had adopted the baby girl known as Roseann Wayne and her name was now Mary Ellen Suey and she was living in Riverside, Calif,” Catey said. “I was pretty surprised.” He asked Shendler to contact Suey to find out if it was all right for him to call her. Catey then called to confirm she was the baby Roseann Wayne and to ask if it was OK to give her number to Dave Hickman. “She told me she had been looking for him for years and that she very much wanted to talk to him,” Catey said. “It was exciting to hear from John Catey,” Ellen Suey said recently from her home in Riverside, Calif. “It was like getting back a piece of my own personal history that I never thought I’d get back.” “John Catey’s the real hero here,” Hickman said. “I can’t thank him enough.” Since that day Suey’s family had moved to Silver Springs, Md., when she was an infant, and in 1964, they moved to California. She worked for 30 years as an executive assistant for the U.S. Defense Department in California, but she has come back to the Richmond area every year to visit her aunt Ruth Shendler. Suey married, had two children, divorced and has been married to her second husband, Bob Suey, for 19 years. They had four grandchildren, though one died tragically in January. “She’s a very lovely lady, a strong Christian,” Hickman said. Hickman graduated Richmond High School in 1960, served for three years in the U.S. Army, moved to Florida with his family and worked his whole life in construction. He retired in Florida before moving to Tennessee eight years ago. He returns to Richmond regularly for reunions with five close friends. Hickman and Suey have become close friends and stay in contact almost daily. When Suey’s grandson died, the Hickmans called and sent cards and flowers. They plan to meet in Richmond in May. “He’s my hero,” Suey said of Hickman. “I’m pretty sure that whoever placed me (in the field near Boston) placed me there to die. If he hadn’t found me, I would have died.” But Hickman refuses to be called a hero. “I’m just very fortunate I was there,” he said. “I found her because God allowed me to save her life. I’m so pleased that He honored me to find her.” “He said the Lord’s my hero and I said, ‘I understand that, but you’re my hero on earth,’” Suey said. Both said the reunion will be very emotional. “But they are going to be happy tears,” Suey said. “He will see that I lived a good life. They are good people, and now we consider Dave and Gaile part of our family.” “I’m really looking forward to that so much,” Hickman said. “It’s a wonderful end to the story, but it won’t be an end. It’s just a beginning.” Suey continues to work to unseal her adoption case file and find out what she can about her birth parents. “I’m very inquisitive. I want to know why things happened this way, the where,” she said. She has asked Hickman to take her to the spot where he found her. “I always wonder, why did they pick this spot? I guess I can look at the spot as that’s where I started my life, right there. That’s where I got my life back,” she said. D4 – Cat. 09

A family on edge

Annie Goeller Daily Journal (Franklin)

The mother still shudders when she thinks of what could have happened. For 30 years, Brenda Rogina’s top concern has been her daughter Shannon, who was diagnosed with tuberous sclerosis after she began having seizures as a baby. The disorder caused multiple tumors to form all over Shannon’s brain, which eventually took away her ability to walk and speak. Now her parents, along with any help they can get, take care of her every need, feeding her, dressing her, moving her position every hour and knowing what all her sounds mean – from a happy laugh to a frustrated grumble. Last year, Brenda and Mike Rogina wanted a short break – some time with their other daughter, their friends and each other. They planned a trip to a beach in Florida, an impossible task with Shannon’s wheelchair and need for a rigid schedule. They asked their home care company to schedule enough hours of care so they could take their weeklong trip. That’s when their nightmare began. They came home to find a stranger’s underwear in their room, their collector car damaged and their daughter in distress. The woman who was supposed to feed, clothe and bathe their daughter left in their car, drank their beer and had her boyfriend sleep with her in their bed. She was fired by the agency but did not face criminal charges. The family left that home health care agency, but now they trust no one and soon will put surveillance cameras in their home, Mike Rogina said. In May, Shannon had to have a tooth pulled that was damaged by her grinding her teeth. The issue was noticed after the couple returned from their trip, and Brenda Rogina is convinced being left alone was the cause. Thinking of those days still nearly brings Brenda Rogina to tears. Anything could have happened. Shannon could have had a seizure or aspirated and not be here today. Brenda Rogina is bitter about what happened, but partly because that wasn’t the first time a caregiver hurt their family. In the years since Shannon received a government waiver that made her eligible for in-home care, caregivers have stolen from them, fallen asleep on the job or simply not shown up. Their most recent home health care agency, Individual Support Services, sent one caregiver to their home with a theft conviction and another who was convicted of a conversion charge, according to police reports and court records. The company would not comment. Under state law, a person is prohibited from being a home health aide if they have been convicted of rape, criminal deviate conduct, exploitation of an adult, not reporting battery, neglect or exploitation of an adult, theft within 10 years or an equal level felony. The Rogina family also said they have never been reimbursed for what was stolen or possessions that were damaged. A woman who answered the phone at the Middletown-based home care company declined to comment. Hard to get good help Their story illustrates a need for families of children with special needs: good help. The Center Grove area family said that is harder to find than they expected. “You’re talking about (caring for) someone who can’t do anything for themselves, who is nonverbal,” Brenda Rogina said. After raising their family in rural Greene County, Brenda and Mike Rogina thought moving to the Indianapolis area would give them more resources for their daughter Shannon. They applied for a waiver that would give them 24/7 care for Shannon, so she would continue to get the care they give her – even after they are gone. They waited 13 years to be approved, and when their name finally got to the top of the waiting list, the program was ended. So they applied for another waiver that would cover the cost of care at home. The approval came at just the right time. Mike Rogina had injured his back, and Brenda Rogina was feeling the effects of more than 20 years of lifting and moving Shannon. They needed help. Both are now in their 60s. Most days, Shannon needs to be lifted at least 25 times per day. If they run errands, that number increases to 40. “We knew we were only going to get older and things were going to break down,” she said. Brenda Rogina was mostly home when caregivers would come. They helped her lift Shannon and stayed with her while she made a quick trip to the store or to run other errands. Every time someone new came, Brenda Rogina spent days training them. She showed them everything they needed to learn about how to care for Shannon: what she eats and when, how to move her position every hour so she doesn’t get too stiff or a pressure sore, what music she likes, what she is trying to communicate with her different sounds and what her seizures look like and how to help her through them. Some caregivers worked out. Others didn’t. Mike Rogina remembers coming home to find a caregiver asleep while Shannon sat awake. He was furious. They complained, they asked for new caregivers when someone didn’t work out, and they trained them all over again. ‘Sending a known thief’ In September 2012, they were assigned a new caregiver who seemed sweet and eager to learn. After two days of training, Brenda Rogina felt she was ready to leave Shannon alone at home with the caregiver. The family had a bag of video games a family member was planning to trade in to get an iPad, with a list of everything inside. She noticed the bags were lighter. Games were missing. She didn’t want to believe it. But no one else had been in the house, and she always locks the doors. The caregiver had to be the one who took them. They pleaded with her to bring them back before calling the police. She denied taking them. A month later, Derrica Alexander, 26, Indianapolis, was arrested on a charge of theft by the sheriff’s office. Investigators confronted her with video of her selling the games she had taken, and she said she needed the money – about $90 – to buy school clothes for her son. She later pleaded guilty to theft and was sentenced to about six months in prison, according to court records. Alexander had pleaded guilty to a theft charge in 2007 in Marion County and was sentenced to probation and home detention, according to the Marion County Prosecutor’s Office. “They are sending a known thief into your home,” Brenda Rogina said. The home health care agency has registered nurses, licensed practical nurses and home health aides, according to its website. Based on Shannon’s needs, she was given a home health aide. Under state law, home health aides must complete a competency evaluation program, be in good standing on the state aide registry and must receive continuing education totaling 12 hours per year, with at least eight hours in subjects including communication skills, infection control, appropriate and safe techniques for grooming and personal hygiene, safe transfer techniques and nutrition. After the theft, the family decided to stay with the home health agency, which fired Alexander and told the family they would make it right, Mike Rogina said. ‘Just need a break’ One reason was the headache of switching nursing agencies, which they had gone through before, including after a company lost their paperwork and put them in danger of losing eligibility for the waiver program. But they also convinced themselves it wouldn’t – it couldn’t – happen again. “We were probably too forgiving. That just had to be a fluke,” Mike Rogina said. The next year, they decided to take a trip – just them, their other daughter and grandson and another couple. The whole family has gone on lots of trips together as a family, but with Shannon they are not relaxing, Brenda Rogina said. Brenda Rogina remembers trying to find a place to change Shannon’s diaper during a trip to Las Vegas. They remember lots of sleepless nights in hotel rooms where Shannon was out of her typical routine and couldn’t sleep, and so they didn’t either. Amusement parks are out of the question, due to the heat and food that Shannon can’t eat. And the beach is almost unbearable for her, with the sun in her eyes, the sand and the question of how to move her around. “Sometimes you just need a break,” Mike Rogina said. Brenda Rogina began planning the trip months in advance. She had every detail worked out, including who she thought was going to care for Shannon while she was gone. And then, just before they were set to leave, the company sent a new caregiver. The change made Brenda Rogina nervous. She wanted someone who had experience with Shannon, someone who was trained and whom she could trust. They already had spent $2,000 booking the trip. The caregiver seemed eager to learn and wanted to work as many hours as she could to make extra money. She offered to do extra tasks for them, including watering their plants and keeping up with the laundry. Brenda Rogina spent 18 hours training her in how to care for Shannon. And then she posted notes throughout the house, telling her how to run the washing machine, what each light switch controls and who to call if something were to happen to Shannon. Problems mount But something didn’t seem right to Mike Rogina. He just had a bad feeling. He asked a friend to come over and check on what was going on. “I’m her voice. I’ve always told people ‘don’t mess with the family,’” he said. Hours after the family left, Mike Rogina called to check in. They were in Alabama, and his friend told him there was a problem. The caregiver had left in their collector Camaro. He begged her not to go and said he didn’t know how to care for Shannon, but she left anyway. Mike Rogina was furious but had to be controlled. He didn’t want his wife to panic and insist they drive home, which she would. They were almost there, had rented a condominium and couldn’t get a refund. He called the caregiver and said if she didn’t come back, he would report the car stolen. But the problems didn’t end there. His friend also had seen the woman’s boyfriend leaving the home at 5 a.m., said the two had been sleeping in the couple’s bed and had been drinking beer. For the rest of the weekend, Mike Rogina had a relative come over and check on Shannon, and the following Monday, he called the agency and demanded a new caregiver. The couple came home to find dirty clothing in their bedroom and their collector car had been damaged. They called police and made a report. They also learned the caregiver earlier had been arrested on a charge of conversion, a misdemeanor, in Greenwood in 2011. She entered a pretrial diversion program, according to court records. No charges were filed against the caregiver for what happened at the Rogina home. Prosecutor Brad Cooper said Shannon was not left home alone, which was one of the factors presented to him when considering charges. He also said Shannon was not hurt and was asleep at the time. Cooper made the decision not to file charges based on what was submitted to him, which included no evidence of a crime, he said. Police did not arrest the woman, and they would have if they had clear evidence she had committed a felony crime, he said. He didn’t think theft had been committed when the woman took the family’s collector Camaro, since the state statute requires someone to intend to take the item permanently, he said. “I understand there are people who are frustrated with that,” Cooper said. “But until I get evidence, I can’t file anything.” ‘Nerves are on edge’ The Roginas left the home care agency, which they said never reimbursed them for the theft or the damage to the car. They were left wondering how well Shannon was cared for while they were gone. They don’t know if she was moved into new positions like she was supposed to be. They don’t know what kind of stress she was in. For those reasons, and because they just don’t trust anyone anymore, Mike Rogina is installing surveillance cameras in the home. He will show them to new caregivers and let them know they are being watched, he said. A year later, what happened is still hard for Brenda Rogina to talk about. She gets upset and then will have trouble sleeping. She can’t put into words all the emotions she has about what was done to their family. “The abuse, I don’t even feel like I have a heart,” Brenda Rogina said. They changed to a new agency, fighting to keep the one caregiver they truly trust right now, who has been working with Shannon for more than a year. Turnover among caregivers is common, they said. “Your nerves are on edge. You’ve got good help, and then they are gone. I can’t even tell you what that’s like,” Brenda Rogina said. Dealing with the system Finding good home care is a struggle for special needs families, said Jerry Kiefer, the adult protective services investigator who oversees cases in Hancock, Johnson and Shelby counties. “You have to be able to trust the people that you allow into your home to care for the most precious things in your life,” he said. “There have been too many instances in the past where it was the case, it looked good and sounded good, but it went downhill.” He has been involved in multiple cases where caregivers have stolen from families. Part of the problem is that families are often in a rush when selecting a caregiver and don’t have the time to research and look into the company as they would with other services. Once they get approval for care, they are already in need. And with so many home health agencies, figuring out which is best is difficult, especially for many families who have no experience with the system, Kiefer said. The agencies also sometimes don’t thoroughly check the backgrounds of the people they hire. With the home health care business booming as more people are in need of care, companies are under pressure to hire quickly and sometimes don’t check people out as well as they should, he said. “Just because you are supposed to do it doesn’t mean it gets done or gets done properly,” he said. D4 – Cat. 10

Who’s going to take care of Paul?

Martha Rasche The Herald (Jasper)

Paul Burrows was 14 years old when a doctor in the mental health unit at an Evansville hospital offered his mother a choice: a box of tissues or commitment papers. She took the box of tissues. Paul already had been in the mental health system for three years. Unless Lynda Burrows signed the papers and never saw her son again, she remembers the doctor telling her, she would face a life of legal trouble and mental illness with him as well as threats on her life. The doctor told her that the police and courts wouldn’t care and predicted that eventually Paul would kill her. If she took the box of tissues, the doctor wanted her to know that is all the support she would have in dealing with her son for the rest of her life. In January of this year, three weeks shy of Paul’s 36th birthday, mother and son sat in a hallway in the Dubois County Courthouse. Paul had just been found competent to stand trial on felony charges of receiving stolen property, and his mother, who has been his legal guardian since he turned 18, had addressed the court. “I am very, very, very exhausted for all this,” the Jasper resident, 66, told the superior court judge, specifically referencing the work she was doing to assure proper legal representation for Paul, who has a documented history of mental illness dating to 1990 and a history of legal troubles equally as long. She just as well could have been talking about how worn down she felt after decades of seeking mental and legal help for her son, changing homes and jobs dozens of times and, on many days, fearing for her own life. In the hallway, her son said to her, “Mom, you’re fighting for a lost cause.” Jan. 29, 1991. Paul is 12. From a probation officer’s report in Knox County Juvenile Court regarding a case of theft: In the matter of Paul Burrows, a child alleged to be a delinquent child … Said child has committed a delinquent act pursuant to Indiana Code S31-6-4-1(a) in that he: (x) committed an act that would be a crime if committed by an adult Lynda Burrows has three children. As a child, Paul wasn’t the one most in need. When he was born in February 1978, the family lived in Kalamazoo, Mich. An older sister had Reye’s syndrome and seizures and once spent more than a month in a coma. An older brother had leukemia. The siblings spent a lot of time in the hospital, if not as patients as visitors. “I was fighting for his life,” Lynda says, referencing her older son. “I was fighting for hers. You’ve got to stop and think what Paul was going through.” Before Paul was a teenager, the family had moved from Michigan to southern Indiana, landing in Vincennes where Lynda enrolled in mortuary school. Lynda and the children’s father divorced and dad moved away. Money and mom became scarce as Lynda went to school and worked a part-time job. Paul joined a gang; getting him out of it eventually helped prompt a family move. March 12, 1992. Paul is 14. From a doctor’s notes from a psychiatric hospitalization at Welborn Baptist Hospital in Evansville: When I asked Paul why he thought he was here to see me he stated, (1) “My temper. I start cussing and yelling at people and don’t really know why I do this. I’m sometimes so out of control I smash things.” When I asked him what he smashed he indicated many chairs and other objects. He denied any physical aggressiveness toward people. (2) Depression. He states that he at times feels really down and mother contributed the fact that he once tried to kill himself by hanging a number of months ago in sixth grade, having failed fourth and sixth grades. As Paul’s aggression grew, he turned it on his family members as well as himself. For a while, Lynda and the other children took turns staying awake at night to ensure everyone’s safety. Whenever Lynda called a mental health center for help, the conversation always went the same way: “Is anyone injured?” Lynda was asked. “No.” “Then call the police.” When Paul did get mental health treatment, he was sent home again within 72 hours, before a stay longer than an emergency detention would be required. The cycle repeated. And intensified. Lynda began sleeping with a phone at her side, ready to call 911 at a moment’s notice. She thinks often of that Evansville doctor who recommended Paul be permanently committed to an institution. “But you know, as a mother, this is my son … and I thought I could handle him. I never dreamed he was gonna be in gangs. I never dreamed he’d be that suicidal. I never dreamed that he would ever become so mentally ill that he’d become so violent. And, the last final part is, stupid me believed there was support. And there is no support. There is no support. They put them in the mental health (unit at the local hospital), they send them home.” Permanent institutionalization is no longer an option. Doug Hayworth is the unit outpatient coordinator for Southern Hills Counseling Center, the community mental health center that has its central office in Jasper and that serves Dubois, Crawford, Orange, Perry and Spencer counties. The state’s Community Mental Health Center system has 25 such centers. When Hayworth started working for Southern Hills some 35 years ago, there were about 1,000 beds at the state psychiatric hospital for adults in Evansville. Today, there are only 132. Only 10 beds at state hospitals have been allotted for the five counties of the Southern Hills service area. Southern Hills is “responsible for getting somebody out of the state hospital before somebody else can get in,” Hayworth said, though “borrowing” beds from other centers is possible. As of April 1, Southern Hills was borrowing four beds allotted to Hamilton Center in Terre Haute. Funding also has decreased. Each of the past four years, for example, funding at each of the state’s community mental health centers has been cut 8 percent. The state’s public mental health system provides services to only 15 percent of Hoosier adults who live with serious mental illnesses, according to the Indiana organization of the National Alliance on Mental Illness, known as NAMI. More people are treated for serious mental illnesses in Indiana correctional facilities, NAMI says, than in state hospitals. A 2010 study by the National Sheriff s’ Association found that across the country more than three times as many mentally ill people are in prisons and jails as in hospitals. Feb. 28 1996. Paul is 18. From a letter from a clinical psychologist in Evansville to Paul’s attorney: I find the patient to be psychologically unstable and not capable of taking care of himself or his needs. His judgment and reasoning are severely impaired. As a result, he gets himself into situations that are damaging to him and his mother. The patient is unable to learn from past experiences. Meyer Street. Wabash Avenue. Seminary Street. The family lived at all of these places in Vincennes, plus more. They had at least seven homes in Evansville, four in Tell City, back to Vincennes. Huntingburg, Jasper. At least one in New Albany, three in Terre Haute. Lynda estimates she has moved at least 40 times. Based on the home addresses listed on Paul’s rap sheet, her estimate seems accurate. Lynda might have had nearly as many jobs to augment Paul’s Supplemental Security Income and Social Security Disability Income. Both Lynda and Paul are covered by Medicaid and Medicare, and Lynda began receiving Social Security when she turned 65. “You go from job to job because they don’t want to work with you. You’ve got a son that’s got to be in psychiatry, therapy. If he goes off the deep end, well, you can’t leave him home. Who’s going to watch him? Who’s going to take care of Paul?” She considers herself fortunate to be in her third year of working for minimum wage part time at Kmart, where management has been empathetic and allows her to carry her cellphone during work hours so she is available to Paul. The family was evicted sometimes. Sometimes the moves were to give Paul a fresh start after criminal activity put him on police radar. “I have no disrespect for the police. We do need them. But now that Paul’s been found here and labeled, we move all the time, just to keep him away from the police. Because if anything goes wrong in a particular area, that’s the first thing they do is call, ‘OK, where was Paul?’” This past February, the police came calling at least twice, once looking for someone who had broken into the mailboxes at the apartments where Lynda and Paul live. Sometimes, in anticipation of finding police at her door, Lynda documents Paul’s day- to-day activities in a journal. Make no mistake. She knows the kinds of things Paul does. What she doesn’t know is how to stop him without putting herself in harm’s way. She has been his victim on numerous occasions. She has had thousands of dollars stolen from her checking account, more than once. When Lynda calls credit companies to report the fraud, she doesn’t tell them the money was stolen by her son. “You learn not to,” she says. “You can’t trust society, ‘cuz all they’re going to do is put the guy in jail. And that’s not going to help any.” At a time when having a computer could help her learn about advocacy organizations, Lynda got rid of her computer so Paul couldn’t hack into her bank account. Most recently she took away Paul’s cellphone so he couldn’t make any unauthorized transactions with it. Sometimes, her measures work. More often than not, Paul finds another way to do what he wants. And then he lies about it. “Paul lies. Paul’s a chronic liar. I can’t change Paul on that. He will always be a liar and I know that. Whatever people want to think of me, if they want to think I’m deranged or insane, I don’t really personally care. They’ve never walked in my shoes. They’ve never had to be fi red from so many jobs or kicked out or moved on because of Paul and dealing with him.” But for Lynda, unlike the legal system, it always comes back to Paul’s mental illness. And who this tattooed, gaunt man is when he isn’t fighting shadows and voices and having horrific recurrent nightmares about the gruesome deaths of his children. The nightmares are so real that he wakes up with the taste of blood in his mouth. “He’s a great guy. I want you to understand. He’s got a heart of gold. I want that clear. When Paul is in his norm, he’d take his shirt off his back for you.” April 29, 1996. From a report from Paul’s guardian ad litem: In my opinion Paul Burrows appears to be totally incapable and/or unwilling to make responsible personal and financial decisions. His history shows a pattern of irresponsible, erratic and self-destructive behavior, including repeated suicide threats and attempts, stealing from the cash register in a short- lived job, gang activity and a recent incident in which he and a minor girl “ran away” to Jasper for a week. … In my opinion guardianship is necessary for Paul Burrows at this time because he is clearly unprepared, unable and unwilling to look after himself. June 25, 1996. Vanderburgh Superior Court Probate Division: After being duly advised in the premises and having had a hearing the court orders as follows: 1. The person Lynda Burrows, petitioner, be appointed as guardian over the person and estate of Paul Burrows, an incompetent minor. Lynda has been her son’s legal guardian since the year he turned 18. Paul doesn’t particularly like that role for her. Lynda likes it even less. “I have had a lonely road. I can’t date. I can’t be with anybody, because you don’t know what Paul is going to do. How I have lived through it, it’s only my faith. I have a very strong faith in the Lord. I believe there’s been angels in this home. You do not get the support from psychiatrists and therapists; all they do is say call the police. And then they end up putting him in jail, he gets a record.” Lynda finds herself in a constant Catch-22. She is as careful as she can be not to disrupt Paul’s life. She does it for her own survival. She assures that Paul doesn’t have to ask for anything and she doesn’t request his help in keeping up their apartment. More often than not, she is the one to walk his pug-beagle mix, Harley, in addition to her own Shih Tzu, Poochie. When Paul was in jail early last year, Lynda mentioned to him on the phone that she had moved all of his winter clothing into a plastic tub for storage. He yelled at her for touching his stuff and he cursed at her. When he wanted a new cellphone he broke the windshield of Lynda’s car. He hit her. He threatened to kill her. She compares the violent Paul to a monster, and then imitates him saying, “I am going to kill you, bitch.” Her whole face distorts. The threat raises goose bumps. After a violent episode it might take an hour or even a few days for Paul to return to normal. And when he does, he doesn’t remember what happened. Afterward, he often goes into what Lynda calls “Mommy mode.” “He will just say, ‘Mommy, I love you.’ And he’s very serious about it. Or he’ll come off a day or so and he’ll say, ‘Are you OK, Mom?’ “I say, ‘I’m fine.’ “‘What did I do this time?’ “He don’t remember.” Paul is pretty much a loner. He spends most of his time in his bedroom watching TV or listening to music. That’s what he was doing on an early December afternoon while a cold rain fell and Lynda spoke with a visitor in the living room. Each time Paul shuffled out from the darkness to get something from the fridge, Lynda asked if he was OK and mentioned when dinner would be ready. Dinner – which he would eat by himself in his bedroom. “Right now all he does is just lay in his bed and smoke and watches TV and lives in his own world. And I know not to cross it. ... If you cross his path and maybe just say just one little word, your life is in danger. I’ve been thrown against this wall. I’ve been thrown on the floor.” Her daily goal is, simply, to keep the violence down. Except for the occasional verbal abuse, life has been relatively peaceful lately. “What you learn to do is you do the whole house as if he’s not there. You don’t touch his domain, but you clean everything. You make sure the trash is out. You can’t ask him to do anything. You can’t ask him to sweep, clean, do anything. Because if you do, the monster’s going to come out. So why put yourself through that hell? You might as well just do everything and forget it.” Lynda has been diagnosed with posttraumatic stress disorder because of her living environment. In May of last year she passed out while walking the dogs and was hospitalized with high blood pressure. Her doctor said she came close to having a stroke. During the most violent of incidents, she has called the police to her aid – but if they ask her if they should take Paul to jail, she always says no: “Jail is not the answer for the mentally ill.” But the police operate under rules of public safety and protection, and when a criminal act is involved, Lynda cannot control whether they take Paul away. His going to jail early last year ignited a struggle within her. “I don’t like seeing him sit in jail. But at least I can sleep and at least I can watch TV and at least I can do what I want and I don’t have to worry that he’s hiding behind some closet door and ready to kill me again.” At the same time, she laid out Paul’s shirt, pants, shoes, cap and towel on his bed, hoping to smooth the transition upon his return. “She had everything ready for me – she had clothes, everything – so I wouldn’t flip out when I came home,” Paul acknowledged later. “She had it precise for me and that made me feel good so it wouldn’t be overwhelming on me.” In crowds, Paul becomes agitated and begins to pace. Even one on one, he generally doesn’t look the other person in the eye because it causes him to lose his concentration. Still, on occasion he and Lynda have pleasant outings; they enjoy flea markets and Chinese dinners together. “There’s some good times with Paul,” she says. “But you’ve got to catch it when he’s ready to go.” As Lynda speaks, a dog-eared Bible rests in the nearby recliner. “My Bible, my spiritual time, is the only thing that keeps me from insanity,” says Lynda, who was raised in the Church of God but as a child often escaped her abusive home by going to a neighborhood convent. She eventually converted to Catholicism and still feels close to the Blessed Virgin Mary and finds solace in praying the rosary. “When Paul becomes violent, I say, ‘OK, Lord, where are you?’ I just feel like the angels are there. They have to be or I’d be dead today.” Lynda has lived with Paul’s violence and suicide attempts for more than two decades, and she has long had a passage picked out for his funeral: Psalm 88. That psalm ends with these lines: I have been weak and dying since I was young. I suffer from your terrors, and I am helpless. You have been angry with me, and your terrors have destroyed me. They surround me daily like a flood; they are all around me. You have taken away my loved ones and friends. Darkness is my only friend. D4 – Cat. 11

Cats find salvation, clear Reitz roadblock

Joe Jasinski The Herald (Jasper)

Ben Moore sat alone on the bench as the game’s culminating play arrived. His busted MCL hurt too much for him to stand. So the junior gingerly slid down the steel pew, scavenging for a peek through a tree line of teammates. Jasper faced a fourth down inches inside Evansville Reitz territory with about two minutes left. Muscle a half-yard forward, and the Wildcats all but seal the sectional. Fail to find the measly measure, and the Panthers stare at just half a field to potentially knot up Friday’s Class 4A sectional championship in its final stages. Finally, Moore could see it all unfold. “I worked my way to find a crease,” Moore said. He saw Tate Blessinger, his replacement. The sophomore cradled his ninth and final carry and plunged to the left. “I just had to get it,” Blessinger said. “I didn’t even look for a gap. I just stuck it in as hard as I could, lowered my head and just ran straight at them. ... I knew I had it.” One yard. One hope finally realized. With Reitz void of timeouts, the Wildcats enacted a fresh set of downs to bring them that elusive prize. As the final minute evaporated at Jerry Brewer Alumni Stadium with two Nolan Ahrens kneel downs, the Wildcats cemented a 17-9 victory and their first sectional championship since 2008. Three of the past four seasons, Jasper’s tournament journey halted at Reitz’s hands, including a one-point heartbreak in last year’s sectional championship. This time, the Cats (11-1) summoned salvation. “We just didn’t stop pushing. We didn’t give up, ever. We just kept pushing because we were going to get there. We were going to win the game,” Jasper senior Philip Huebschman said. “That was the only thought in our mind. There was no loss; there was no losing. It was win, win, win.” The task ordered an “inclusive e_ ort” from all, Jasper coach Tony Ahrens said. And it didn’t take him long to realize the Wildcats were primed to deliver. “You could just tell, even before the game started. They had those pointed eyes, and they were looking at you for some guidance,” he said. “And then they went out and they just got after it.” When it seemingly mattered most, the Cats extracted the necessary e_ ort. As the Jasper offense stammered to gain traction in the second half, the defense heightened its play, allowing Reitz to total just five first downs in the final 24 minutes. After Panther quarterback Austin Reagan’s 57- yard touchdown toss brought Reitz within 14-9 early in the third quarter, the Cats clamped down. From there, Reagan completed just 2-of-9 passes for 21 yards and threw an interception to Courtland Betz. The turnover came after Jasper’s third straight three-and-out possession and on Reitz’s first drive following the touchdown. “Guy just ran a slant, I picked it up,” Betz recalled bluntly. “Huge momentum turn.” After completing 9-of-11 passes for 131 yards in the first half, Nolan Ahrens assumed the middleman role after the intermission, as Jasper ran the ball on 28 of its 30 second-half offensive snaps (including three sacks). While Ahrens carved through the Panther secondary with strikes to four receivers – including a 34- yard score to Huebschman on the Cats’ second drive of the game – Moore functioned as the offense’s metronome, providing rhythm one tireless tote at a time. The junior ran the ball 22 times for 93 yards before limping off the field with 15 minutes left after he re-aggravated a recovering MCL. From there, it was Blessinger – who scored the Cats’ second touchdown on a 2-yard scamper in the second quarter – and Ian Songer who accepted the brunt of the work, averaging 2.8 yards on their 11 combined rushes following Moore’s departure. The tandem got the job done, but Moore subsidized the offense with relentless runs that rarely ended on initial contact. “Ben Moore is probably one of the most reliable kids I’ve ever coached. He is a guy that just makes things happen,” Tony Ahrens said. “It seems like he’s stopped and all of a sudden he’ll pop through for another 4 or 5 yards. He’s just a guy that if you need something, his reliability is going to come through.” With Moore incapacitated, the defense adopted the role of reliance. Senior defensive end Spencer Otto delivered a bone-jarring sack to force a third-and- long situation on Reitz’s first drive of the fourth quarter. One incompletion later, the Cats retrieved the ball off one of Reitz’s four punts. All told, the opportunities existed, Reitz coach Andy Hape said. The Panthers (258 total yards) outgained Jasper (256) on offense despite running 17 fewer plays. “It’s not like it wasn’t there,” Hape said. “We dropped some footballs and probably should have ran it a little more. We tried to put the ball in our playmakers’ hands ... and we just came up on the short end tonight.” With the Wildcats in what appeared to be their most vulnerable state, they staged a salvo. Following a 19-yard punt that awarded Reitz the ball on Jasper’s 41-yard line with four minutes left, defensive end Austin Alles knifed into the backfield on third down for his third sack, bulldozing Reagan to the grass. A fist pump followed. Alles played possessed. “He went crazy,” Huebschman said of the junior’s performance. “He was absolutely crazy.” Alles then invaded the backfield on the following play along with senior Pablo Santos to force Reagan to chuck a wobbling pass downfield. It fell to the ground, turning the ball over to Jasper with 2:49 to go. Seven plays later, the sectional was theirs. As the Wildcats hastily made their way back to the locker room after postgame handshakes, Huebschman walked beside a hobbling Moore with the sectional trophy in his hand. Tony Ahrens followed close behind. Fans began chanting Ahrens’ name as he made his way toward the sub-bleacher tunnel. Before he could reach it, however, he shook hands with 2013 Jasper graduate Devon Traylor, who left last year’s defeat when he suffered a concussion and neck injury on Reitz’s game-winning field goal with nine seconds remaining. “You’re just happy, for all the kids who ever played here,” Tony Ahrens said. “They’ve got so much pride in our program. All the kids that have gone through this program, they leave here and they’ve got a sense of pride. And they want to see us have success.” Now the Cats descend on their toughest task yet, as they’ll confront top-ranked Columbus East (12-0) in next weekend’s regional on the road. Friday, however, the Cats’ psyche didn’t drift beyond the confines of Jerry Brewer Stadium. Parallel with his coach, Huebschman described the victory as one shared by more than the collection of kids in uniform. After a four-year sectional drought, intensified by the trio of losses to Reitz, the victory embodied much more. “Not only did we do this for us, we did it for the town, for the guys that were in front of us, just everybody,” Huebschman said, music from the locker room blaring behind him. “That’s who I thought we did it for. It was for the town. Jasper needed this championship.” D4 – Cat. 12

Amid sorrow, family learns to heal

Joe Fanelli The Herald (Jasper)

On the first-year anniversary of Benton’s death, Katie Kluesner stayed home from school. On the second, her mother, Lisa, insisted she go. Told her how important it was for her to keep going, keep living. This year, come Oct. 3, Katie doesn’t know how they will commemorate the death of her big brother. In the past, the soccer team has helped. Katie has been a four-year goalie for the Northeast Dubois soccer team, and her freshman year, the team members wore camouflage headbands and tape in memory of Benton. Green and black with “Benny” written across in safety-orange letters. “It’s not easier, you just learn to cope with it,” Katie explains. “There’s not a day that something doesn’t remind me of him or dad. I think about them every day no matter whether it’s a song, or something in a book. ... Anything can remind you of him.” Next Thursday will mark the three-year anniversary of Benton’s death. Katie started high school as a freshman in August 2010. Little more than a month later, Benton died in an ATV accident, the details of which are unclear. Six months later, still reeling from the loss of her brother, her father, Terry, was killed in a motorcycle crash with similar unanswerable questions. Since then, Katie has dealt with the grief and agonizing questions in a process that has brought her closer to her mother, her faith and the sometimes awful truths of life. She’s been to the bottom, and today she is still trying to move forward. Benton was a young-looking boy of 16 with a penchant for the outdoors and a little bit of mischief. Traci Wineinger, who’s been teaching agriculture at Dubois Middle School and Northeast Dubois High School for nine years, had Benton in class from seventh to 10th grade. A few months after the accident, she found one of his old tests lodged behind a file cabinet. Now it hangs on her chalkboard. “Of all the kids that I’ve had,” she says with small laugh, tears in her eyes. Traci describes Benton as “the class clown” in the best possible way. He was outspoken, but not hurtful. Loud, but not disruptive. Funny; he liked to do impressions in a high, squeaky voice that would get the classroom rolling. “He was a big teddy bear,” She says and then stopped to clarify. “I mean a little teddy bear.” She laughed, using her hand to indicate his short stature. “He would do anything for anybody.” Traci spent time with Benton outside of school during a summer course and with FFA. She saw a talented, hard-working boy whose future was set. He’d be outdoors, working with large machinery like tractors and excavators, probably side by side with his dad. Terry ran an excavation business on the side, ripping up ponds and roads. Benton loved it. That was the future. Benton would go to school and then come home to work with Terry. Terry would run the machinery and when anything broke, Benton would fix it. Benton had friends in and out of FFA. Those with only passing interest would come and be involved because of Benton. He was fun. He was loving. And when he died, one of the first things Traci noticed was a portion of the kids stopped coming. He had connected them and now the realization sank in: Benton’s not going to our meetings anymore. Benton’s not going on our trips. When Benton died, Katie lost her best friend. He was her only sibling and just 20 months older. Wherever Benton was, Katie was close behind. They sometimes spent the entire day bickering back and forth as brothers and sisters often do, but then, come bedtime, Lisa had to yell at them to be quiet. They would lie in each other’s beds and talk, discussing their days. “I would get so aggravated sometimes,” Lisa remembers with a smile. “We would be eating supper and then one of them would just start busting out laughing. And I’d be getting mad, like, ‘C’mon, eat your supper.’ And then the other would just chime in. It was just a big giggling mess.” “Ninety-nine percent of the time we were best friends,” Katie says. “If you were having a bad day, he could put a smile on anyone’s face. He would tell you jokes. He would tickle you, do any kind of little stuff to tick you off and make you laugh.” Katie sits in the Northeast Dubois cafeteria, still dressed from head to toe in her soccer gear from practice. She’s trying to remember exactly. On Oct. 3, 2010, Benton was found unconscious at a farm in Celestine, a place he routinely worked either checking the cattle fences or raking hay or mowing grass. He was found lying on the ground about 150 feet from a 1994 Yamaha Timberwolf four-wheeler. He had been riding on the ATV checking the fence that circles the farm. There were no traces of blood. The ATV was on all fours and in third gear. When Katie speaks about it, it’s apparent she’s put considerable time into all the possibilities. How did he fall? Did he hit his head on the way off? On the handlebars? Was it the seat? The rack? Did the four-wheeler roll over him? Was he going up hill or down? Was he chased? Did an animal attack him? Or was he just messing around? He was an experienced rider, accidents happen, but what actually happened? “Besides not having him, because we went everywhere together...” she begins. “Besides not having him there all the time to help me, to talk to me about stuff, that was definitely the hardest thing, just not knowing what happened and why it happened and why him out of all of these other people that do bad things.” Katie is Catholic and she started to question God. She began asking her mother a lot of questions about heaven. They went to a priest. They went to counselors. Katie and Lisa buried themselves in work. For Katie, it was sports and her first horse, a Tennessee walking horse named Eddy. She grew quiet. She tortured herself with the questions. She clung to her mom and Lisa clung back. They kept going, but while Katie and Lisa went one direction, Terry went another. “I think something inside Terry just broke,” Lisa explains. “His life as he knew it was over. His plans, his dreams; that was the one thing I tried to put in his head was, ‘You still have a daughter.’” “I really believed my dad wasn’t his self,” Katie added. “When it happened, that wasn’t him. Something happened inside of him that you just can’t describe, and it was like something snapped and he just kind of forgot what he was doing.” Terry, after working at Reynolds Inc. – a water and sewer systems construction company – as a project superintendent for 26 years, stopped going altogether. He began drinking. Katie and Lisa left their home. Just a month after Benton died, Lisa and Terry separated and three months after that, she filed for divorce. Eventually, there was progress. Near May 2011, around the time he died, Terry began to show up to Katie and Lisa’s new house more frequently to mow the yard or fix up things around the home. Lisa remembers going to a shrimp barbecue about two weeks before Terry’s motorcycle crash and seeing the definite signs of change. Others saw it, too. He finally seemed to be on the upswing. Katie was working at Arnie’s Tavern the day of his accident. It was a Friday the 13th and she says she had a strange feeling all day, as if something was just wrong. When her mom walked in with her sunglasses on, Katie knew immediately. “I see my mom and my heart just dropped. She hadn’t even said a word yet and I knew what happened,” Katie says. “I just knew it was my dad. It couldn’t be anyone else but my dad.” A senior banquet was set for that night and Lisa and Terry were going to award the first Benton Kluesner Memorial Scholarship, which they funded from donations at his funeral. Terry was driving back to his home on his Honda motorcycle to clean up beforehand. Based on the police report, Terry’s bike was heading east and began to skid while making a turn along the road. He lost control and crossed the double line, first hitting a drainage culvert and then the driveway of a nearby residence. “I would just sit around and let it eat at me,” Katie says. “There was probably a good two months where I just wasn’t feeling like doing anything. I would ride my horses and take care of my horses, but you were down. You were depressed. You didn’t have a life. “You felt like your life is just slipping out of your hands and you can’t grab it.” “You’re not past the first one,” Lisa says, referring to the death of her son. “It took me a lot of different routes. At some points in my life, I would say, ‘At least he’s with Benton,’ because Terry had such a hard time. He just couldn’t do it. But at the same time... Why now? Why now when Terry was getting so much better? I don’t know. I have to know in my heart they’re together.” Faith has been one of the aspects that has kept Katie and Lisa sane. Not just faith in God and in heaven – a chance to see them again – but faith in each other. Sadness turns to confusion. Confusion turns to anger. Katie was mad. She was mad at Terry for the way he handled Benton’s death. She was mad at God for taking them both. So again, she leaned on her mother, and Lisa leaned back. They talked about it constantly. When one was having a bad day, it was the other’s job to hear her out, ask what’s wrong, suggest a walk, or a drive or some ice cream. “If it wasn’t for my mom, I wouldn’t be half the person I am right now,” Katie says. “If it hadn’t been for her it would have been 100 times harder. She was somebody to talk to, somebody to cry with, just somebody to talk to about how your day was.” Katie and Lisa still talk about it constantly. Lisa says they have to for their own health. They’ve tried to continue living. To continue to love and remember their brother and son and father and husband. Some days that means prayer or visiting the gravesite or looking at the accident reports, but most days that means just moving forward. Lisa is getting remarried in November and Katie will graduate in May. At one point, Katie was hell-bent on leaving Dubois for Wyoming or Montana, somewhere far away. But those thoughts have left. She’ll attend college somewhere closer, probably in Evansville, to remain close to her mother and boyfriend and pets. “Just because their lives ended doesn’t mean mine ended,” Katie says. “You still have to go and make something of yourself. ... Benton was going to make something of himself and I want to make something of myself. They have made me push myself to want to be a better person.” She doesn’t want pity. Neither does Lisa. They want peace and a person to talk to, and hearing others recall stories about Benton make them smile. The pain is still there, will always be there, but both recognize the dangers of lingering. Lisa looks at her daughter and talks about strength and courage. She says Katie has been through more than any 18-year-old should have to endure, but to give up would be worse than anything. “Like every parent, I just hope for the best for her,” Lisa says. “She’s been scarred. She knows what it’s like to lose. ... I hope she doesn’t take that for granted. I want her to live, live, to love deeply, and do all of the thing we did. Create the memories. Thank God we had the memories.” The days are sometimes difficult, but Katie says the last thing Benton and Terry would want is for them to give up. They were both happy people. Katie and Lisa saw their family cut in half from four to two, but they have strengthened that bond with more love for each other and the memory of those they cared for. After so much pain, it can only get better. “You either fell off a mountain or you went up,” Katie says. “You either went down and stayed down or you went down and you realized, ‘Hey, I’m going down. I need to go up.” D4 – Cat. 13

Manning’s numbers impressive, but beware

Rick Morwick Daily Journal (Franklin)

Peyton Manning is 37. He’s in his 16th season. He’s playing for his second team and – fourth head coach – in a career that bridges three decades. Ancient by the NFL calendar, he should be one of two things by now: an emergency backup or retired. But he’s neither. A lock for his fifth MVP award (no one else has more than three), Manning is more Manning- like than ever. Otherworldly, to be precise. He has the “Star Wars” numbers to prove it. In his two seasons with Denver, Manning has thrown for 10,136 yards and 92 touchdown passes. Those aren’t typos. Those are his numbers. Take a moment and let that sink in. Especially the 92 TDs. Manning threw 37 last year, which – until this year – was the second-highest total of his career. He fired an NFL-record 55 this season. No player in league history has thrown that many touchdowns in a two-year span. Not Tom Brady. Not Dan Marino. Not Jim Kelly. Not Joe Montana. Not Dan Fouts. Nobody. To put it in perspective, Manning threw a combined 85 touchdowns in his first three seasons in Indianapolis. He didn’t reach 92 until early in his fourth season. Now, consider the passing yards. He threw for 4,659 last year, which – until this year – was the second-highest total of his career. He threw for an NFL-record 5,477 this season. Accuracy? Yeah, he was as dead-eye as ever. In a league-leading 679 attempts, he had a career-high 450 completions for a 68.3 completion percentage. The latter figure was just a few ticks shy of his career-best 68.8. Equally impressive, Manning threw only 10 interceptions, just a shade higher than his career-low of nine. His quarterback rating of 115.1 was tops in the NFL among full-time starters. Oh, and he tied an NFL single-game record with seven touchdown passes against Baltimore in the season-opener. Manning’s season was, in short, one for the ages – one the league is not likely to see ever see again. Granted, records are made to be broken and all that, but in totality – from touchdowns to yards to accuracy – the odds of anyone topping what Manning did this season are just about zero. And the odds of someone doing it in the context of winning, like the Broncos did, might be below zero. Manning didn’t put up Star Wars numbers for the sake of Star Wars numbers. They computed into wins. Denver is, for the second straight season, the top seed in AFC and for the second straight season finished with the best record the NFL, sharing the distinction with Seattle at 13-3. But here’s the amazing part. Manning is playing his position at the highest level imaginable – at the highest level in NFL history – at a time when he should be holding a clipboard or spending his money. And to think three years ago, his career was over. Or so it seemed. Three years removed from a battery of neck surgeries that convinced Jim Irsay that Manning’s best Sundays – if not all Sundays – were over, the soon-to-be MVP is proving otherwise. In the boldest possible “I told you so” terms. All that’s left for Manning to prove is that he can do the one thing he hasn’t done in Denver: Win a playoff game. If he does that, he’ll be even with Tim Tebow. For all his regular-season greatness, Manning still hasn’t distinguished himself in one area that matters most – winning in the postseason. That fact that he hasn’t done so consistently complicates his legacy. In all, Manning is 9-11 in the postseason. Eight times, his teams have been one-and- done, including last year. His career regular- season passer rating is 95.7. In the playoffs, it’s 86.2. Why the dip is really hard to pinpoint. Maybe impossible. Choker? Not fair or accurate. He’s been to two Super Bowls and has a ring. One could argue one’s not enough for a player of his ability (Irsay has in fact stoked that argument), but a ring is a ring. Fran Tarkenton would certainly love to have one, as would Marino, Kelly and Fouts. On the Super Bowl front, Manning goes into the Hall of Fame a champion. Whether enshrinement will come with the “greatest ever” label remains to be seen. Manning, a student of not only of the game but its history, would no doubt like to be remembered as such – which remains a possibility, if he parlays his season for the ages into a Lombardi Trophy for the Broncos. Best advice for Denver fans: Hope for the best, and brace for the worst. We got pretty good at that here in Indy.