Public (?) Records
Wednesday, August 4th, 2010First, let’s briefly wrap up the confusion of Monday, when those who checked in early saw last Friday’s post, the system having disobeyed orders to put up the new one. Its (the system’s) insubordination was countermanded shortly before 9AM. Those who missed that post need only scroll down past this one.
Then let’s start today’s exercise calmly. The two (apparent) violations of state law about to be detailed do not portend the approach of a police state in Vermont. Jack-booted thugs are not combing the Green Mountains, nor are undercover agents listening to our innermost thoughts through transmitters placed in our tooth fillings.
Furthermore, the two incidents are in many ways not comparable. In one, nobody got hurt. In the other, somebody did.
Yet neither are they entirely unrelated. The thread that runs through them jeopardizes a free society.
Let’s first deal with the lesser offense. Earlier this year, the Legislature ordered the Education Department to prepare detailed budget-cutting recommendations to each of the state’s 283 school districts, and to have them finished by August 1.
That was Sunday. On Monday, a reporter for the Vermont Press Bureau (Rutland Herald and Barre/Montpelier Times-Argus) asked to see the report detailing the recommendations. Education Commissioner Armando Vilaseca refused.
In refusing, he almost surely violated 1 V.S.A. § 318, which states, “upon request the custodian of a public record shall promptly produce the record for inspection.”
Unless one of the 39 exceptions in 1 V.S.A. § 317 applies, and then “the custodian” (Vilaseca in this case) must stipulate which exception he is citing in his refusal.
He did not.
Vilaseca did not dispute that the report was a “public record.” In an interview Tuesday, after the Rutland and Montpelier papers had run the story, he argued that the report “hadn’t been finalized” and was “still in working form.” Furthermore, he said, the law only “requires me to release (the report) promptly,” a standard he said he would meet by releasing it Wednesday at a press conference.
But according to the Legislative mandate, the report was finished, and the dictionary defines “prompt” as “without delay.” A two-day wait is a rather good example of a delay.
From an administrative and policy perspective, what Vilaseca did made good sense. He wanted to send the report out to the schools to make sure there were no errors in it, as there were, he acknowledged, in a report on standardized test scores his department sent out last year which mistakenly described two schools as among the lowest-scoring in the state.
In other words, he didn’t want to embarrass himself or his Department.
Under those circumstances, what’s wrong with keeping the information secret for another two days?
Only that it was against the law, which in this case has two disadvantages. One is that a law-breaking Education Commissioner does not set a good example for the kids. The other is…well, hold that thought while we describe – briefly, because it’s been in the newspapers – the other incident.
Over Memorial Day weekend, police in Hartford were alerted about a possible burglary at a home. They entered the house (the door was apparently unlocked), and found in a third-floor bathroom one Wayne Burwell, a 34-year-old Dartmouth graduate, athletic trainer, and, perhaps not incidentally, an African-American.
Burwell was naked. He was sitting on the toilet. He was apparently unresponsive, perhaps due to a blood sugar problem that has caused him to lose consciousness on occasion.
Not exactly the picture of a dangerous desperado. But the police unleashed enough pepper spray to make both Burwell and some of the officers require treatment later. Then they handcuffed him, covered him with a blanket, and either dragged or led him outside “to wash his eyes,” in the words of Town Manager Hunter Rieseberg, who acknowledged that “some pepper spray had been discharged.”
While Burwell was still inside, one of his neighbors, Bob McKaig, a 71-year-old retired police officer from New Jersey, had come over to the house to warn the police that Burwell was ill. When Burwell was brought out, apparently under arrest, McKaig tried to tell them that Burwell had not been robbing the house. He owned it.
At which point, McKaig said, a “female officer” threatened to have him arrested for interfering. Burwell was taken to Dartmouth-Hitchcock Hospital where, among other treatment, he needed stitches in his hands where the handcuffs had cut him.
At this point, a touch of uncertainty must be acknowledged. Only the police and Burwell (to the extent he was conscious) really know what happened in Burwell’s house. Rieseberg said when all the facts come out, “there will be some red faces, and they won’t be ours.” Perhaps something happened inside the house that gave the police reasons to be wary of Burwell.
But rarely does a burglar sneak into a house, make his way to an upstairs bathroom, take off his clothes and sit on the toilet in a semi-conscious state. Concluding that the police were incompetent, or, as the Vermont ACLU director Allen Gilbert suspects, guilty of “racial profiling,” may be premature. Strongly suspecting it is not.
So what’s the connection between the Burwell case and the Ed Department report?
Under the same public records law, Anne Galloway, who runs the VT Digger web site, asked Hartford police for the arrest report. Police Chief Glenn W. Cutting and then Town Manager Rieseberg refused, as they had refused a similar request from the Valley News newspaper. The town argued that it has asked the State Police to investigate the incident, triggering an exception to the public records law.
Yesterday, with the help of the ACLU, Galloway sued. The ACLU notes that the law specifies that “’records reflecting the initial arrest of a person’ are public and not exempt.”
(Full disclosure: As regular readers may know, the News Guy occasionally writes for VT Digger [see the link to it above] and knows, likes and admires Galloway as a first-class journalist).
The town’s response is that Burwell, handcuffed and pepper-sprayed though he may have been, was never arrested.
“No one was taken into custody. No one was transported to jail,” Rieseberg said. Nancy Sheahan, the Burlington lawyer who will represent the town, noted that “it is possible to detain someone without arresting him. In this particular case, there was not an arrest.”
Obviously, the courts will decide whether it was an arrest. At least some Vermont case law indicates that the Town may find it hard to prevail. Research undertaken out of the goodness of his heart by a prominent Vermont defense attorney found a 1990 Caledonia County case in which the court ruled that “the public interest clearly favors the right of access to public documents and public records (and) the exceptions listed in { 317(b) should be construed strictly against the custodians of the records and any doubts should be resolved in favor of disclosure.”
The lawyer also found a 1992 Supreme Court decision reversing a Chittenden County court decision denying a plaintiff “a list of names and addresses of taxpayers subject to a business gross receipts tax adopted by an ordinance of the City of Burlington.”
Needless to say, every case differs, and this one might have a different outcome. But the legal details really aren’t that important, because, while as acknowledged above, we can not know with 100 percent certainty what happened in Burwell’s house that day, we can know with about 98 percent certainty.
The cops messed up. And they want to keep the details secret because they fear that the details will provide powerful evidence that they messed up. That’s the main – if not quite the only – reason that officials want to keep records secret: to hide their misdeeds, or at least their foolishness. If the arrest report would make the Hartford police look good, reporters would have been invited to read it in comfort with coffee and muffins provided by the town.
And here’s why this is important: If police anywhere in Vermont can handcuff and pepper-spray Wayne Burwell in his own house with impunity, then police somewhere in Vermont can do the same to you and to me. And the more they can hide the records of what they did, the more are they likely to do the same to you or to me.
Just as – though Armando Vilaseca’s offense was benign by comparison – if a high-ranking state official can ignore the public records law for 48 hours to make sure a few minor errors don’t embarrass him, another such official on another occasion may be emboldened to ignore it for 48 days or 48 weeks in an effort to cover up real malfeasance.
That’s why there’s a public records law to begin with, and why it ought to be enforced.





