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Archive for the ‘Transparency’ Category

This is going to rankle some folks in the Legislature, but the fact is there are at least six cowards on the House and Governmental Affairs Committee.

That’s how many members of the committee voted against HB 19 by Rep. Jerome “Dee” Richard (I-Thibodaux) and Sen. Rick Gallot (D-Ruston) on Tuesday.

HB 19 would have removed the deliberative process exemptions from the governor’s office, in effect, ending abuses of the public records privilege that has been extended throughout the executive branch of government and LSU when the original law passed in 2009 specifically limited the privilege to the governor.

But six members of the committee hearing testimony that was overwhelmingly in favor of the bill, had feet of clay and did not have the backbone to stand up to a lame duck governor who long ago stopped caring about this state.

The three who voted to send the governor a message included Reps. John Berthelot (R-Gonzales), Jared Brossett (D-New Orleans) and John Schroder (R-Covington).

The six who should bear the stigma of being forced to wear the yellow letter “Y” (with apologies to Nathaniel Hawthorne) emblazoned across the front of their freshly starched shirts are:

• Committee Chair Timothy Burns (R-Mandeville);

• Vice Chair Michael Danahay (D-Sulphur);

• Taylor Barras (R-New Iberia);

• Girod Jackson, III (D-LaPlace);

• Gregory Miller (R-Norco);

• Stephen Pugh (R-Ponchatoula).

Why should we be so upset with the Sorry Six? The Gutless Gang? Because they have just made it even more difficult than ever to obtain public records from state agencies, in effect giving them carte blanche to operate in secrecy as never before. If you thought it difficult to get routine public records in the past, you ain’t seen nothin’ yet.

One witness testified before the committee that she could not readily obtain something as routine as a copy of state contracts without receiving notification from the Division of Administration (DOA) that a “search” was being conducted for the documents (despite the fact that she requested the contracts by contract number) and that once located they would be reviewed for “privileged and confidential information”—something that does not exist with public contracts; they’re public documents, pure and simple.

Thomas Enright, Gov. Bobby Jindal’s executive counsel, offered a lame apology for the difficult in obtaining copies of contracts. “I made a note of this,” he said. “There is no reason you should have problems getting a copy of a state contract.”

Really? Wow, what a champion of the people.

But that weak effort at atonement was easily matched by his equally disingenuous attempt at painting his boss as some great emancipator of the public’s right to know. It was easily the most pitiful performance so far this session by a spokesperson for this administration. And that includes Commissioner of Administration Kristy Nichols’ incredibly naïve utterance that the administration would not tolerate corruption as she was canceling the $184 million CNSI contract with the Department of Health and Hospitals (DHH).

As one witness after another cited the administration’s outright contempt for the public’s right—your right—to know what your government is doing with your tax dollars and how those actions might be enriching certain campaign contributors, the committee members went through the motion of pretending to listen and a few even asked perfunctory questions—probably provided them by the governor’s staff, if claims made by at least two other legislators last year are accurate.

But guess what? It didn’t matter. The fix was in from the get-go and HB 19 never had a prayer despite support from the Public Affairs Research Council (PAR), Leaders with Vision, Advocates for Public Health Care, the Baton Rouge Advocate, the Louisiana Press Association, and others.

This is the government you voted for, folks. You send them to Baton Rouge to represent your best interests and they promptly fall in line with the governor’s or some special interest’s agenda, and then legislators and lobbyists adjourn each night to Ruth’s Chris or Sullivan’s steak restaurants. And one way or another, you pick up the tab.

But don’t bother asking for public records on those sojourns. Deliberative process, don’t you know.

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News reporters from other states are quick to point out that Louisiana has one of the strongest public records laws in the country. A New York reporter, for example, was surprised to learn that LouisianaVoice was complaining about a month’s delay in obtaining public records from the Department of Education (DOE) and Division of Administration (DOA).

“I have an FOIA (Freedom of Information Act; the equivalent to Louisiana’s R.S. 44:1 et seq., better known as the Public Records Act) request that’s been pending up here for a year,” he said.

While it is encouraging to know we have one of the most liberal public records statutes in the nation, it may be a bit disheartening and frustrating to know that the law is only as strong as its enforcement.

To that end, Louisiana Attorney General Buddy Caldwell office has simply punted, the rationale being that should there be litigation, he is bound by the State Constitution to defend whichever state agency is named as a defendant.

But that is certainly not to say that inasmuch as his office is in fact the official counsel for all state agencies, Caldwell could whisper legal advice into an agency head’s ear as to his/her responsibilities under the public records law in an effort to avert a lawsuit by those with inquiring minds.

It could be that he is too busy with his side job as an Elvis impersonator to waste time on such trivial matters as the public’s right to know.

Because of the lack of a real watchdog to hold agencies’ feet to the fire regarding easy access to public records, many requests are simply ignored or denied with the tired catch-all “deliberative process” explanation.

DOA, however, has found a more original if unethical, immoral and fattening method of avoiding the disclosure of certain embarrassing documents: simply make sure the records no longer exist.

State agencies are required under Louisiana Revised Statute 44:411 to develop and submit a records retention schedule (a listing of their agency’s records with the retention requirements to meet their administrative, legal and financial needs) for review and approval by the State Archives. Until a retention schedule has been approved, La. R.S. 44:36 requires agencies to maintain their records for three years from the date the record is made (unless required longer by specific statute). It is important to note that La. R.S. 44:36 does not exempt agencies from developing a records retention schedule required under 44:411.

The above information was obtained from the Secretary of State website:
http://www.sos.la.gov/tabid/489/Default.aspx

RS 44:411: http://www.legis.la.gov/lss/lss.asp?doc=99732&showback=Y

RS 44:36: http://www.legis.la.gov/lss/lss.asp?doc=99704&showback=Y

Contrary to these requirements DOA does not currently have a records retention policy. What that means in terms of one particular type of public record, specifically email? Most state departments participate in Statewide Email which is operated and maintained by the Office of Computing Services (OCS). OCS is a subunit of the Office of Information Technology within DOA. The statewide email function is generally outlined at: http://www.doa.louisiana.gov/ocs/email/statewide_email_services.htm.

The OCS site makes reference to centralized archiving to help with records retention, but does not go into the details of how that is or is not utilized. The OCS will configure records retention settings in line with an agency’s policy; if no such policy exists, then OCS’s default is to retain the records for 30 days. Yes, 30 days. Not three years. Thirty days.

Thus, if a person deletes emails, those records can only be potentially obtained from OCS within 30 days of the email’s being received/sent. After that time, there is truly no record retained of those records (emails). This also holds true if an employee leaves the organization. The OCS deletes the entire mailbox when someone leaves. There is no process or policy in place to retain or maintain those emails.

As such, when a request is submitted for public records relating to email(s), it relies almost entirely on the chance that an individual included in the email chain kept those emails and a willingness on the employee’s part to provide those records to the person in the organization who ultimately responds to the request. In a world in which everyone is operating above-board, retains all of their email for at the very least their own purposes, and has no interest in hiding information, the lack of true centralized records retention policies or processes would not be as necessary. These attributes, unfortunately, do not exist in the current administration in general and in DOA in particular.

Moreover, even if individual employees were made aware of the 3-year law, it would be nearly impossible to monitor or enforce at the individual level. It would only be possible to ensure email records are maintained for 3 years if OCS were required to maintain those records.

In light of the all this, is it not remarkably convenient that DOA has never established a records retention policy? How easy would it be to simply delete emails, wait 30 days, and then simply respond with what will then be a simple truth: the records do not exist?

It has to induce some semblance of paranoia and cynicism to know that one can never be confident that everything that once existed still exists to be included in the response.

Of course, any sixth-grade computer whiz kid will tell you that nothing is ever completely erased. Everything you ever pulled up on your computer is filed away somewhere on your hard drive. You didn’t erase the document; you simply moved it to another file.

Another file that is extremely difficult to access, we might add.

Yes, an erased or deleted document can be retrieved, but it’s no walk in the park—and it’s not only complicated, but expensive.

When informed that a document does not exist, there are not many who can challenge that by fronting the cost of an extensive search—even if litigation ultimately awards the person seeking the document court costs and legal fees.

So, in the final analysis, the transparent and accountable administration does hold the cards and can on occasion dictate the terms of the game. But should some determined individual with the financial backing and necessary determination to not take no for an answer and if that individual eventually discovers documents that have been so concealed from public view, that game could change dramatically.

And it would not be pretty for the agency, the agency head or the administration.

We’re just sayin’…

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We’ve been trying to spread the message for some time now about how the administration of Gov. Bobby Jindal is cognizant only of the well-being of Bobby Jindal and his presidential aspirations which, by the way, are evaporating like so much acetone-based nail polish remover.

We’ve sounded the alarm on reforms to public education, budget cuts to higher education, attempted pension reforms, privatization, the firing of state appointed officials and the demotion of legislators, the refusal to accept federal funding for Medicaid, broadband internet, a rail link between Baton Rouge and New Orleans, early childhood intervention and federal stimulus funds (though there seems to be no compunction about all that federal highway money that the state receives, nor hurricane relief when it’s needed).

We’ve written extensively about how the appointments to plum commissions and boards seem to gravitate toward big campaign contributors and how the appointees use their purchased positions to inflict the whims of the governor on state institutions and state employees.

And we were first to sound the alarm, thanks to a timely heads-up State Rep. Jerome “Dee” Richard (I-Thibodaux), that the Center for Medicare and Medicaid Services (CMS) had not approved the Jindal administration’s half-baked state hospital privatization plan—a development which could cost the state another $800 million in Medicaid funds if the state does not submit its plan for approval in time for the adoption of next year’s state budget.

Now, though, it seems that others are beginning to catch on. There are rumblings of discontent in the Legislature, the Board of Regents backed the governor down in his attempt to fire the commissioner of higher education, the state school principals association simply walked away from a state-sponsored Principal of the Year contest over the criteria imposed on the selection process by Education Superintendent John White.

We broke the initial story about White’s decision to provide personal data on all Louisiana public school students to inBloom, a massive computer data bank controlled by Fox News owner Rupert Murdoch. The backlash from that story has forced White to back down on the agreement with inBloom, though we’re still skeptical about the legitimacy of his announcement that he was calling the information back into the Department of Education. It seems to us that it might be a little difficult to take back what was already submitted to inBloom. Kind of like getting the genie back into the bottle.

We are told, by the way, that White and his minions have literally freaked out over our latest request for public records relative to the DOE Value Added Model (VAM) for teacher evaluations. Apparently, there is some information in the records we requested that he desperately does not want the public to know.

And of course, there is that federal investigation looming over the governor’s office regarding that $184 million contract awarded to CNSI by its former employee, Department of Health and Hospitals Secretary Bruce Greenstein. Greenstein was the first domino to fall in that little scandal and there could be more.

But now, state employees, while still maintaining their anonymity for the sake of keeping their jobs, are starting to sound off and they’re doing so loudly and clearly.

The essay below was penned by a state employee. We know the employee’s name but we are sworn to secrecy to protect a state worker who has seen wanton disregard for propriety and ethics up close and personal.

To summarize, the essay is about the surreptitious retaining of Ruth Johnson, retired Department of Children and Family Services Director, to a $49,900 contract from Feb. 18 through June 14 at which time she is expected to be hired full time at a six-figure salary.

Contract Details

Contract Number 720077
Contract Title DOA/OIT & RUTH JOHNSON
Contract Description PROVIDE CONSULTING, RESEARCH, ANALYSIS, AND ADMINISTRATIVE SUPPORT TO THE OFFICE OF INFORMATION TECHNOLOGY FOR ALL MATTER S RELATED TO INFORMATION TECHNOLOGY AND RESOURCES. 100% STATE GENERAL; $80/HOUR PLUS $4,377.60 TRAVEL
Agency DOA-OFFICE OF CIO
Amount $49,900.00
Begin Date 2/18/2013
End Date 6/14/2013
Approval Date 3/14/2013
Document Type CONSULTING CONTRACT-CFMS
Status ENCUMBRANCE SUCCESSFUL
Contractor RUTH JOHNSON
Contractor City and State BATON ROUGE, LA

So why put her on contract instead of hiring her outright?

For that answer, refer back to her contract, which runs through mid-June.

The Legislature, by law, is required to adjourn no later than June 6. When her contract expires, it will be too late for her appointment to full time status to be confirmed by the State Senate.

By going the route of a contract through June 14, DOA avoids the messy confirmation process and as we shall see in the essay below, Sen. Karen Carter Peterson (D-New Orleans) has already seen through the ruse.

Here is the essay by Anonymous:

As I read recent headlines regarding the current administration, I find myself pausing to take a reflective look back. What I see saddens me.

There are so many who have chosen to defile the system with little regard or respect for their colleagues, Louisiana law, and even the Legislature for that matter. Some might even go as far as to say they’ve done so with an incredible degree of arrogance—assuming no one around them will notice. Maybe they assume no one will speak up. Maybe they have, like Jindal, become too callous to care. But I want to take a second to assure you—especially those “insiders” monitoring this blog—that your colleagues do notice.

Last Thursday, on the floor of the State Senate, Sen. Karen Carter Peterson (D-New Orleans) called attention to a particular contract the administration planned to sneak by state employees and the legislature. You know the one that contracts out the Chief Information Officer position to former DCFS Secretary Ruth Johnson?

Yep, that one. It’s the one that seems to us, to be an attempt to circumvent both the legislative process as well as Louisiana law. It’s the same contract that fills what statute says must be an appointed and unclassified position—with a contractor, or vendor, if you will. It is the contract that was written for $49,900 (just $100 below the $50,000 level that requires approval of Contractual Review). And it’s the same one that expires one week after the session ends which would allow Ms. Johnson to avoid a confirmation hearing.

And most importantly, it is the one that allows Ms. Johnson to return to State service as a rehired retiree without having to follow any of the guidelines outlined by LASERS. href=”http://www.lasersonline.org/uploads/21ProceduresWhenHiringReemployedRetirees.pdf).”>http://www.lasersonline.org/uploads/21ProceduresWhenHiringReemployedRetirees.pdf).

Yes, they have been watching.

Do you know what else they’ve seen? How about that new position created for a family member of a current Louisiana Congressman? The $150,000 position that did not exist before now? They noticed. And are you aware they also noticed that the holder of that position, Jan Cassidy, called a state employee prior to her arrival to ensure a state contract won by her employer at the time (ACS/Xerox) was pushed through before she arrived? You didn’t think they would see that either, did you?

I’m sure it seems unbelievable they might not be as naive to the wrong doing as you assumed. Employees aren’t supposed to question things. But they have been. And you should know they’ve been watching much further back than just the past year.

They all noticed that job you filled with a family member of a prominent public servant only a few months after laying off a number of employees from the same area. They all noticed how the spouse of the current Deputy Commissioner was able to gain rights to a classified position, available when and if her unclassified one comes to an end. They saw the ethical violations involved as she discussed matters directly with her spouse and HR Director at the time.

And if it isn’t enough that the Deputy Commissioner is indirectly supervising his spouse, he actually ensured she was placed in the best position she could qualify for at the time. Yes, the gullible, never-figures-out-your-secrets employees noticed. And not surprisingly, it would seem as if a close friend of said spouse noticed as well. How else could someone close to retirement, who supervises no one, snag a $15,000 raise while her colleagues continue to work alongside her with no merit increases or opportunities to move forward.

Yes they have seen the Tim Barfields and the Bruce Greensteins – same people only differing faces. They have passed all of you in the halls, the parking lots, and sometimes at various functions and ponder how you could smile at them and make light of current events. They wonder how you walk these halls and look them in the eyes as if you haven’t plundered them for your own advancements.

And while they may not show it outwardly, they know what you have done for yourselves at the expense of others. They know who signed the papers and who pushed through the favors and you can bet they only wish they could ask you if it’s worth it. Is being on the inside with an inflated sense of entitlement and self-worth so much that you’d sell your integrity to move yourself forward? Is it worth losing any remaining respect your colleagues might have had for you? Is it worth not only stealing from and lying to the public, but also to the people you interact with on a daily basis?

I hope it is. Because in the end, that money and “insider” status is all you’ll have. Someday you’ll realize those are just temporary tokens you can’t take with you when you leave this place or when you yourself become one of this administration’s sacrificial lambs. Surely you can ask Bruce Greenstein about that one. I imagine he’d tell you that politicians will wither and fade, as will your self-imposed status, and you’ll be left with the people you stepped on and stole from to get to where you are. Maybe then, when you don’t think you hold the cards, maybe that will be a better time to ask – was it worth it?

And don’t worry – as always, they will be watching.

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Give the folks at the Division of Administration (DOA) credit: they obviously had a mole infiltrate our operations who then successfully foiled one of our more brilliant schemes.

A second memorandum was sent out on Wednesday by the patricians of paranoia, otherwise known as those in the Division of Administration who remain convinced they are above the law and who see no need to respond to public records request by such lowly creatures as reporters.

That’s right, reporter, Michael Diresto’s volunteered opinion notwithstanding. I’m also a blogger, of course, but in addition to my blog, I cover state government for a couple dozen newspapers throughout Louisiana.

A little over a year ago I attempted to obtain a copy of Gov. Bobby Jindal’s executive budget from Diresto, Assistant Commissioner for Policy and Communications, who was handing out copies of the budget to the media. He informed me I was not getting one. He first said it was because I didn’t have an office on press row in the basement of the Capitol. When I pointed out that he had just given a copy to a reporter who did not have office space in the Capitol, he said, “You’re not getting a copy because you’re not legitimate press.”

For Mr. Diresto’s enlightenment, I hold a bachelor’s degree in journalism. I spent some 30 years as a full time reporter for newspapers in this state as a reporter and editor. My career has included reporting jobs for the Shreveport Times, the Monroe News Star and the Baton Rouge Advocate and I also served as managing editor of the Ruston Daily Leader. I even managed to pick up an occasional award for news reporting (two), feature writing (two) and investigative reporting (three) along the way. Given those facts, I would be most interested in hearing Mr. Diresto provide his definition of “legitimate.”

But back to the issue at hand.

On Wednesday, a second email went out that addressed the issue of visitors to state buildings—buildings you the taxpayer paid for and which are filled with overpaid executives who share one thing in common: an over-inflated sense of their own importance by virtue of their being appointed to jobs for which they possess few, if any qualifications. (I’m not talking about the rank and file employees who perform the grunt work that keeps the state running. They are the most unappreciated, underpaid, most dedicated people I have ever had the pleasure of knowing.)

The first email, sent out on Tuesday, referenced an “incident” and directed that visitors were not to be allowed on the seventh floor of the Claiborne Building where DOA’s hallowed offices are located. The incident, of course, was the sudden, unexpected and unwelcome appearance of yours truly to request copies of public records I had first requested more than a month before. https://louisianavoice.com/2013/04/17/unexpected-visit-in-search-of-public-records-causes-panic-doa-ordered-into-virtual-louisianavoice-lockdown-mode/

The second email was sent out a day later by Ronnie Gilbert, Operations Division Manager, Office of State Buildings, and expanded the crackdown. It read thusly:

Please inform your employees that all food deliveries for any events, meetings, conferences, etc., are to be picked up at the security desk in your facility. Upon receipt of the food the security desk will contact the agency for their representative to come and retrieve the food items from the security desk. At no time will security desk personnel allow the food vendor delivery personnel on the floors of the building.

So there you have. They’re onto us.

Our ingenious plan to wear a Domino’s Pizza shirt, slip a recorder into the pizza box and eavesdrop on top secret conversations while waiting for our tip is thwarted, nipped in the bud. Alas, what will we do now for a story?

There’s no official word, but the strong rumor is that additional emails will be forthcoming in short order that will further tighten lax security at state buildings.

For example:

• If a state employee should suffer a coronary or go into a diabetic coma on one of the upper floors, first responder personnel will be required to check in at the security desk and the guard will call the appropriate office on the phone. Someone from the victim’s office will then ride down the elevator, retrieve the defibrillator or insulin from EMS personnel and take it back upstairs. EMS personnel will be required to wait on the main floor in full sight of the security desk.

• If there is a fire on an upper floor of any state building, fire fighters will be allowed to pull a hose into the building’s foyer and then wait while the guard calls upstairs for someone to come down and get the hose. That person would then pull the hose up the stairwell to the affected floor while firefighters wait—in full view of the security desk.

• Visitors to the State Capitol will no longer be allowed to take the elevator to the observation deck some 24 floors up. The elevator, after all, necessarily goes right by the fourth floor, and that’s where Jindal is—sometimes—and where Timmy Teepell runs his Southern headquarters of OnMessage. We simply cannot have the great unwashed, the despised riffraff, common citizens, passing this close to an office of such prestige and towering intellect.

Some might call this paranoia and perhaps it is. But one can’t be too careful with crotchety old illegitimate reporters snooping about, sneaking around and writing the truth.

After all, no less an obsessive distrust authority than Nixon Secretary of State Henry Kissinger said, “Even paranoid people have real enemies.”

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NOTE: The following is an account of the stonewalling and violation of state law by the State Division of Administration (DOA) experienced by LouisianaVoice publisher Tom Aswell in an effort to obtain public records from DOA:

The email from the Commissioner of Administration’s office was apparently sent to several state agencies in the Claiborne Building on Tuesday.

It’s contents were terse and to the point:

Subject: Commissioner’s Suite

Due to a recent incident in the Commissioner’s suite, no one without proper access will be allowed into the area. If you need to see me or anyone else in legal, you must first call/e-mail to let us know you are coming over. You will not be buzzed into the area without first notifying us.

Unfortunately, this also includes student workers who come by on a regular basis to bring/and pick up documents.

Well, henceforth I guess it is okay to refer to me and LouisianaVoice as “Recent Incident” because that email from the still unknown author—I suspect it came from legal counsel David Boggs’ office—was about me.

First, some background.

I have historically encountered an almost incredible resistance on the part of this administration to release public records. If it’s not the claim of exemption under the tired blanket excuse of “deliberative process,” it’s the interminable delay due to the more recent explanation that “We are still searching for records and reviewing them for exemptions and privileges.”

Well, that handy little tactic of blowing smoke up my toga has allowed DOA to camp out on our request for weeks in open violation of the state’s public records law.

So, after submitting requests for records dating back to March 6 and March 10, I got tired of waiting and made a little trip to the Claiborne Building behind the State Capitol. That’s where DOA Commissioner of Administration Kristy Nichols parks her desk name plate—for now. She seems to move around a lot.

I walked up to the guard desk and signed in the visitors’ log book, indicating that I intended to visit DOA on the seventh floor. That’s what I wrote: Agency—DOA; Floor—7. It’s on the book, neat and proper. But then I told what could be construed as a little white lie when I informed the guard I was visiting another office first. Except it wasn’t a lie. I did drop by the other office to say hello to a couple of old friends.

Then I rode the elevator up to the seventh floor, walked to the commissioner’s office and rang the bell (the door is locked and visitors must be admitted by electronic control). The door clicked immediately and I entered and walked up to the receptionist’s desk.

“I’d like to see David Boggs, please,” I said with all of my Southern polite upbringing. (I had no quarrel with the receptionist; she’s one of the thousands of rank and file employees that Gov. Jindal holds in utter contempt so if anything, I empathize with her and others like her who most likely have not had a pay raise in something like four years now.)

After I explained that I was there to obtain public records, she picked up the phone and called someone—I assume Boggs’ office and explained that I wished to speak with him. She said a few words, listened for a few moments and then turned back to me. “How did you get here?” she asked.

A little irritated now, I said, “I walked in the front door downstairs.”

“No, how did you get up here?”

“I took the elevator.”

Somewhat exasperated at my not-so-artful dodging, she said, I mean, how did you get past the guard station? You’re not supposed to be up here.”

“Well, I signed in, told the guard I was going to another agency, which I did, and then I came up here.”

“Sir, you know that’s not the proper way to do things. You can’t just walk in here like that. You have to check in…”

“I did.”

“…Check in with the guard and call up here and we’ll send someone down to see you.”

“What? I’m already here now. Why can’t that ‘someone’ just come out and talk to me?”

“Because that’s not how we do it. Go downstairs, call up and we’ll send someone down to see you.”

Thoroughly agitated and by now having abandoned my genteel Southern upbringing, I stormed out muttering to myself about Darwin being correct after all and went back to the guard station downstairs. I dutifully placed my call and whoever answered (I don’t think it was the same person), said someone would be down to see me shortly. I told her to be sure to send someone in authority (as if that person even exists in this administration).

After about 15 minutes, a uniformed guard, a very polite and soft-spoken gentleman who had been at the guard desk the entire time, approached me to say DOA had just called him and instructed him to take my printed request and delivered it upstairs.

“No, sir,” I responded. “I want the custodian of the records who by law is required to provide me with the requested records.”

The guard smiled and said, “I’m only doing what I’m told. I work for them.”

“I understand that, but you’re not the custodian of the records,” I told him as I started dialing. As the phone rang, I further told the guard, “I want you to understand that I’m not offended in any way by you and I hope I haven’t offended you. It’s just that you are not the one with authority to release the records.”

“I understand,” he said, smiling.

I finally got yet another person (I think; I really could not distinguish the voices) and explained what I wanted. If I was angry before, the response I got sent me through the roof.

“Sir, we cannot give you the records today because we have to do stuff to them.”

“What?! I requested these records more than a month ago! What do you mean you can’t give them to me?”

“Sir, we have three days in which to give you the records…”

“No! No, you do not! The state public records law stipulates that you must allow me to examine and copy the records upon my appearance at your office. You do not have three days.” (If a record is unavailable, the custodian of the records has three days in which to respond in writing as to why the record is not available and to say when it will be available. That’s the only reference to three days in the statute.) http://www.tulane.edu/~telc/html/prr.htm

“Not only that,” I continued, “even if you did have three days, I submitted the requests on March 6 and March 10. Today’s the 16th of April. I think you’ve exceeded your mythical three-day time frame.”

“Sir, you are not allowed up here. We will get the information to you when we can.”

At that point, all I could do was go home and try to cool down. That didn’t happen. I’m still angry at a governor who could lie so convincingly about being “open and transparent” and yet allow this kind of thing to take place. And worse, I’m still angry that there are those who still believe the Jindal Lie.

And about that email: I guess it’s only appropriate that the building go into lockdown any time I cross the Amite River from Livingston Parish into Baton Rouge. At nearly 70 years of age and with a 180-pound body of sagging flesh draped across brittle bones, I guess I make a pretty imposing sight for Bobby Jindal, et al. (Of course, a Shih Tzu puppy could intimidate this governor.) Obviously I’m some kind of ogre against whom the state must be protected at all costs. A clear and present danger, as it were.

Borrowing a line from the intro of the Kingston Trio 1959 hit song, The MTA: “Citizens, hear me out. This could happen to you.”

Perhaps that is why State Rep. Jerome “Dee” Richard (I-Thibodaux) has introduced HB 19 this year in an effort to make records in the governor’s office more accessible to the public.

Richard, you may recall, is the one who sounded the alarm about the state’s failure to receive Centers for Medicare & Medicaid Services (CMS) approval of Jindal’s plan to privatize and close state medical facilities—a failure that Richard said could cost the state another $800 million in Medicaid funding.

HB19, co-authored by State Sen. Rick Gallot (D-Ruston), would make “all records of the governor’s office subject to public records laws”—with the usual exemptions for sensitive documents recognized for other agencies throughout local and state government, of course.

Richard is simply attempting to remove the cloak of secrecy that has existed since Jindal pushed through legislation in 2007 right after taking office that he said strengthened the state’s ethics laws but which in reality, gutted the ethics laws, diluted the Ethics Board’s authority and made records in the governor’s office off limits.

If you truly care about this state and sincerely wish to see a more responsive government in Baton Rouge, you might wish to send an email or make a telephone call to your legislators and talk up Richard’s bill.

Right now, even if it passes, it’s certain to be vetoed by Jindal. Only a groundswell of public support for the bill will convince the legislature to approve the bill and prevail upon Jindal to sign it into law.

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