Right now, VICE and its varies subsidiaries are running a series of pieces on the criminal justice system. In the piece below, reporter Alice Hines interviewed for a story about the use of makeup behind bars. Click on the image to read the whole thing.
Aug. 31 was International Overdose Awareness Day. The day was commemorated with events of solidarity and awareness across the globe. Here, lest we forget them, is a list of 15 drug overdoses that haven’t been in the news in a long while. (Side note: this was my first story for the New York Daily News.)
Steve Green has epilepsy. His wife, Maria, has multiple sclerosis. Since 2011, they’ve been growing cannabis for medical use.
Everything they do is perfectly legal under state law in Michigan, where the couple resides. Maria is a registered caregiver—meaning that she’s allowed to grow 12 plants per patient—and both are qualifying patients.
Nonetheless, in 2013 Children’s Protective Services came in and removed the couple’s six-month-old unweaned infant, Bree. According to Steve, “Bree was ordered removed from our home because the judge said it was an inherently dangerous situation, that people could break in to steal the marijuana and steal the baby.”
The removal came despite the fact that the Michigan Medical Marijuana Act notes, “A person shall not be denied custody or visitation of a minor for acting in accordance with this act, unless the person’s behavior is such that it creates an unreasonable danger to the minor that can be clearly articulated and substantiated.”
Sara Arnold, the director and co-founder of the Massachusetts-based Family Law and Cannabis Alliance (FLCA), a national nonprofit organization founded in 2013 and dedicated to advocating for medical marijuana parents, said that the Greens’ story is not unique. “It is extremely common,” she said.
She knows a thing or two about it because in addition to being an advocate and policy expert, Arnold is a medical marijuana parent herself.
“I was investigated by CPS for neglect three times for my medical marijuana use,” Arnold said. “My story is common; I was investigated after the birth of my first child after self-disclosure to my prenatal care provider and twice more from mandated reporters.” By law, people in certain professions—or in some states, all citizens—are mandated to report potential or actual neglect and abuse, which specifically includes drug use. She continued, “One of the mandated reporters had never met my child nor seen me parent her and had only read ‘medical marijuana’ in my medical records mentioned by a (supportive) physician; and the other did not want to make the report but believed they were mandated to do so.
“The outcome of these investigations resulted in the allegations not being substantiated and no further action taken by CPS, but investigation by CPS is still an intrusive, traumatic experience for any family—much less three times for the same thing. It is also a huge waste of limited CPS resources that is taking case workers away from real child neglect and abuse.”
Like Arnold, the Greens eventually got their daughter back—but only after six weeks of expensive legal wrangling.
Although the above cases were in Massachusetts and Michigan, those states aren’t cherry-picked examples. Arnold explained that similar situations happen everywhere: “This is a problem throughout the country. Obviously some states are worse than others (like Texas and Florida) but you might find it surprising that even states with mature medical marijuana programs still investigate their patients who are also parents. Even CPS in medical and legal Colorado still regularly and consistently investigate medical marijuana patients.”
Heather Thompson, a molecular biology PhD who works as the deputy director of a nonprofit known as The Elephant Circle, said that often CPS might get involved before the child is even born. Because the Denver-based organization advocates for new mothers, Thompson has become acquainted with the surprising ways in which legalization has played out in Colorado. Instead of creating a more permissive environment, Thompson said that legalization has created among medical professionals a heightened awareness of cannabis and thus some hospitals are now more likely to drug test newborn babies. She said, “That’s where federal law trumps state law—because it is Schedule 1 it is legal for someone at the hospital to test a baby for THC without the parents’ consent or knowledge. Then if they test positive, because it’s for a Schedule 1, then they have to involve CPS.”
She continued, “If a baby tests positive, it’s automatically a charge of neglect and abuse. There is no evidence to say that drug use equals abuse, but because of the climate in Colorado there’s a very punitive attitude toward parents in general who use marijuana.”
Thompson is not the only advocate quick to note the problems caused by conflicting federal and state laws; it’s something Jennifer Ani is very familiar with, too. Ani is a California-based attorney and child welfare specialist who handles cases where legal medical marijuana users and growers find themselves running afoul of CPS.
To some extent, funding is the source of the problem. The Child Abuse Prevention and Treatment Act (CAPTA), was originally enacted in 1974 as a federal law to allocate CPS funding to states that meet certain federal standards. Ani said, “That’s where marijuana comes in. How do you reconcile that with medical marijuana laws?”
After a 2003 revision, CAPTA now requires states to have policies in place to report and address situations in which infants are born “affected” by illegal substance abuse. That can be problematic both because cannabis is still an illegal substance on the federal level and because the line between use and abuse can be unclear.
Ani said that, once the child is born, “Just the fact that a parent is breaking a federal law is not enough to remove a child [in California]. Regardless of the substance, in California, a parent can use any substance they want to as long as they’re not abusing it and that abuse does not affect the child.” Of course, whatever the law says, Ani said that the children of medical marijuana users are still being removed on a regular basis.
“It’s a problem,” Ani said, “because there’s so much ignorance as to the fact that it’s not harmful. Not only is it not harmful but it does not cause serious physical harm, as the law requires.”
In fact, according to Thompson, existing literature doesn’t even support the idea that marijuana use is harmful during pregnancy: “There has been research on pregnancy and marijuana since 1982 and Canada has been doing it since 1978, and there are very few clinical effects of marijuana. It does not seem to affect growth. If you take the literature as a whole, it does not seem to affect babies negatively in a way that can be documented.”
In a sense, Thompson said, it’s like the crack-baby myths of the 1980s and 1990s. The crack-baby myth—the belief that crack cocaine use during pregnancy would cause major damage to the fetus—grew out of a lack of well-designed studies and thus a lack of understanding. Now, medical marijuana users are facing a similar lack of understanding.
As Ani put it, “Families are being separated because of idiocy and incompetence and a failure to understand cannabis.”
As of now, some states—like Michigan—have language that should theoretically protect medical marijuana parents. Unfortunately, it doesn’t quite work out that way. As cited above, the law says that medical marijuana should only affect custody if “the person’s behavior is such that it creates an unreasonable danger to the minor that can be clearly articulated and substantiated.” However, Arnold explained, “There is no definition of ‘unreasonable danger’ or ‘clearly articulated and substantiated.’ What this has often been interpreted to mean (including in Michigan) is that a) investigation is required of any parent found to use marijuana to ensure that there is no reasonable danger and b) that it can be widely subjective, to the point where the marijuana use itself…can simply be a sign of ‘unreasonable danger.’”
Despite the struggles medical marijuana parents are facing, Arnold remains optimistic. She explained that FLCA offers model language for parent-protective initiatives, such as one that has already been proposed in Massachusetts.
“Marijuana reformers,” she said, “are waking up to the fact that parental rights for patients matter, and social workers are waking up to the fact that it shouldn’t be their job to continue the war on marijuana to the detriment of children and families.”
This story originally appeared on The Fix.
Imagine you are six years old and your dad is in jail. You’re probably confused. You may not understand where he is or why he’s not there. You probably aren’t sure why you have to see him through plexiglass every week or why there are guards in room who won’t let you sit in his lap. You might even feel like you’re singled out, like you’re the only kid this has ever happened to. What do you do?
If you live in Tompkins County you can attend a summercamp program called Project RISE, and it’s dedicated to helping kids of incarcerated and criminal justice-involved parents get to experience a safe, understanding camp environment for free.
The project, spearheaded by Aislyn Colgan, is starting as a part of the existing Village Camp, founded and run by Camp Earth Connections owner Susan Rausch. Rausch has owned the Freeville campground, located in Hammond Hill State Park, since 2002, when she took it over from Cayuga Nature Center.
Before taking ownership of the campground, Rausch founded Village Camp back in 1999 as a community camp. With help from Greater Ithaca Activities Center, Rausch began something that she said “is very different from other camps.” It’s a very outdoor-focused program and kids aren’t broken up into age groups. Instead she said, “We come together as a community and then we offer choices to the kids.” She added, “The Village Camp doesn’t really have a focus other than supporting kids who are disenfranchised in one way or another.”
Thus, when Colgan approached Rausch with the idea for Project RISE, it was a natural fit. Colgan said, “Project RISE is geared toward anyone whose parents are involved in the justice system in any way.” Kids with parents on probation, drug court, or behind bars will qualify for full camp scholarships. Over the past few months, Colgan has done the leg-work in terms of securing funding to make sure those scholarships are a reality.
Before moving to the Ithaca area in 2011, Colgan worked at Project AVARY (Alternative Ventures for At-Risk Youth), a camp for kids of incarcerated parents. Colgan was there for two summers and found the program inspiring, so when she moved out the area she decided she wanted to recreate it somewhere else.
Although Project AVARY included year-round activities, Colgan said that she hopes to build up to that point so that eventually there can be day trips or weekend getaways during the off-season.
“This is meant to be a focal point for parents and families dealing with incarceration to mobilize and help each other out and be more resilient,” she said. “Project RISE means ‘Resilience in Spite of Everything.’ So it’s meant to be a base for people to work together and build resilience among themselves and work against this system of mass incarceration.” She added, “It’s not like, ‘Let’s help these poor kids who are through no fault of their own are a victim of their parents’ behavior.’ This is like, ‘The system is targeting these kids.’ And this is to resist that.”
This year, the camp will be one week long, running from Aug. 17 to 21. Kids will be picked up at GIAC at 8:30 a.m. and dropped back off at 5 p.m. To enroll or get more information, contact Colgan directly firstname.lastname@example.org. •
This article originally appeared in The Ithaca Times.
Jessica Casanova’s nephew wrote her a letter: “I’m here in a steel coffin. I’m breathing but I’m dead.” Casanova recounted, “I didn’t know what that meant so I got on a bus and I found out.”
That was in 2012, and three years later, she’s still finding out. As it turned out, Casanova’s nephew, Juan, was in solitary confinement. He was spending 23 hours a day alone in a cell and deteriorating quickly.
Juan had entered the New York State prison system as a teenager with mental health issues. Casanova said, “He suffered from antisocial personality, borderline personality, severe depression, and addiction.”
His first trip to solitary was in 2001, for allegedly smoking a joint. Although Juan was only isolation for a matter of months, Casanova said, “He’s never been the same after that.” While his first stay was brief, at this point the 33-year-old has now spent a total of about 10 years in solitary. Casanova went on to explain that her nephew now suffers from extreme bouts of depression, paranoia, and mood swings. She added, “Sometimes in the letters it seems like he might be hallucinating.”
“Seeing someone in solitary confinement,” Casanova said, “is like you’re watching them die right in front of your eyes. … I have never in my life experienced another human being being reduced to nothingness.” She added, “I just don’t understand how this can happen in the world.”
Although her nephew’s experience opened Casanova’s eyes, the 43-years-old East Harlem resident is not the only one coming to such realizations. Nationwide, there are at least 80,000 people in solitary confinement on any given day – and most have families who watch them suffer.
Leah Gitter, a retired New York City schoolteacher, is another of those suffering relatives. Her godson, Robert, has spent time in solitary both in Attica and Green Haven, maximum security prisons in New York State.
Gitter said that, during the time Robert was in solitary confinement, “I saw him becoming more unstable and more isolated and sicker. It was like he was withdrawing.” She added, “You get into this mindset where you can’t function because of all that isolation and he wasn’t well to begin with.”
As is perhaps evident from Casanova’s and Gitter’s stories, despite the documented mental health impacts, individuals with existing mental health problems are routinely placed in solitary confinement, a practice which may be counterproductive to any perceived public safety goals. Gitter observed, “I don’t know who benefits from punishing people like that.”
Robin Goods can relate. Her son, George, has spent more than a decade in solitary confinement in California. She said, “I have been visiting with my son George E. Jacobs for the past 10 years behind a glass window. When I look into his eyes I can see the progression of the effects of torture. The first year George had a distance look in his eyes. After the second year in the SHU he had a vague look in his eyes. Now after ten years in the SHU, George has a hollow empty look in his eyes. I am witnessing my son being slowly and deliberately tortured to the point of … devastating mental health deterioration.”
Initially, her son was isolated for a small infraction – Goods said she was told that he refused to take out his shoe laces before a visit. He was sentenced to two years in solitary, but prison officials gradually extended his stay longer and longer. She said, “When he goes for the review they say it’s small infractions like refusing to eat, sharing food.” Recently, George was let out of SHU, but instead of being moved to general population, he was just placed in another type of solitary confinement know as Administrative Segregation.
Goods said, “The deterioration is so profound that it almost affects me. You feel like you want to scream at the top of your lungs, because how can you help? What can you do?” Answering her own question, she continued, “I felt so depressed and helpless and anything I tried wasn’t going anywhere. Then I became angry and decided to stand back up and fight.”
That urge to fight is something Goods has in common with Casanova and Gitter. As a result of their family connections, all three women have become crusaders against solitary confinement.
Gitter said that, knowing about the conditions of her godson’s confinement, “I was so frustrated. This was the only way I could survive — to think that I could do something, to save his life.” She became active in Mental Health Alternatives to Solitary Confinement (MHASC) and “fought like hell” to get the SHU Exclusion Law passed in 2008. The law is meant to bar most people with serious mental illness from being placed in isolation in New York’s state prisons. Gitter said, “We had press conferences and lobby days. We were relentless, even though it took eight years – a human rights bill [took] eight years to get passed.”
Jennifer Parish, the director of criminal justice advocacy at the Urban Justice Center’s Mental Health Project, said, “Leah in some way is the godmother of the movement. She’s been a force for speaking to policy makers at all different levels … She had really done so much to gather people around addressing the problem of people with mental illness in our prison system and in solitary confinement.”
While Gitter has been involved in solitary confinement activism for over a decade, Casanova got into it more recently. In 2013, she joined the New York Campaign for Alternatives to Isolated Confinement (CAIC) and in 2014 spoke at the first press conference announcing the Humane Alternatives to Long-Term (HALT) Solitary Confinement Act. The HALT Act, which is graduallygaining momentum in both the Senate and the House, would ban solitary confinement in New York’s prisons and jails to 15 days, the limit suggested by the UN’s Special Rapporteur on Torture. Individuals requiring more secure housing over the long term would be placed in new Residential Rehabilitation Units with increased therapy and programming.
Parish said of Casanova, “She’s a tremendous advocate. When she talks about what her nephew has gone through it’s just incredibly powerful.”
Though Goods lives in New Jersey, she’s also been active in CAIC, a New York-based group. Parish said, “Robin has a leadership role within CAIC she’s one of the co-chairs of the legislative committee. She’s been part of taking trips to communities upstate to help form branches of CAIC. She’s done presentations upstate. Her son is in California so the fact that she’s working so strongly here is amazing.”
Goods said that, if there’s one thing she’s learned through her activism, it’s that if you’re a family member of someone in solitary, “You are the extended voice on the outside and you should use it as loudly as you can. There’s nothing worse going to happen than what’s already happened.”
Although Casanova, Gitter, and Goods are all important figures in the movement against solitary, they aren’t the only ones – there are wives, girlfriends, parents, siblings, and children scattered throughout activist groups.
“I think,” Parish said, “one of the most important roles that family members play in the movement is reminding everyone who’s involved about the urgency of changing these policies. Because every day their family members are facing solitary or have the potential to face it, and it reminds us that this is not an abstract problem. I think that for people are in the movement it can sometimes be far away. Prisons are closed institutions. But the families constantly keep the fire burning in all of us to make the changes.”
Note: This article, by Keri Blakinger, originally appeared on Solitary Watch.
First Meal: Everything bagel with veggie cream cheese and a medium coffee from Dunkin Donuts. “I was craving a really good bagel,” said Keri Blakinger, 30, who served 21 months in female correctional facilities in NY. Blakinger, a vegetarian, subsisted mostly on canned vegetables and granola bars, which she received in packages from her parents. Since getting out, her diet has not changed much because she grew accustomed to not having to cook for herself. © Julius Motal.
There’s no shortage of projects about meals in the small corner of photographic practice concerned with prisons and human rights. Specifically, the final meals of condemned prisoners have stoked the macabre and outraged intrigue of artists.
Julius Motal‘s photographs of “first meals” are therefore something of a departure and a welcome addition to the visual narratives trying to convey the transitions out of prison and into society. Instead of an end…
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There are around 70 million Americans with an arrest history or a criminal record. For that portion of the population—one in three adults, according to the National Employment Law Project—getting a job can be tough.
In some cases, private employers, such as Target, Home Depot, and Walmart, have chosen to make it a bit easier by not asking questions about criminal background on their applications. In some cases, cities, counties, and states have actually passed legislation prohibiting such questions. These so-called “Ban the Box” laws don’t mandate that employers must hire felons. They simply require that criminal background inquiries occur later in the hiring process, typically after an in-person interview or conditional offer of employment.
Among the county’s major employers, Ithaca College, Borg Warner, and Cayuga Medical Center all either declined to comment or failed to respond to questions about their policies regarding the hire of individuals with criminal backgrounds. Cornell University, Tompkins County, and the City of Ithaca all said that they do inquire about criminal background, but that it is not an automatic bar to employment.
Although neither Tompkins County nor any of its included municipalities has banned the box yet, nearby Syracuse has. Alan Rosenthal, an attorney with the Center for Community Alternatives in Syracuse, helped see that law through. However, the Syracuse law does not apply to all employers, but only to the city and its contractors. He said, “As we’ve seen [Ban the Box] implemented around the country there have been basically three versions. The first is the one that is the most narrow, the one in which the governmental entity—city, county, or state—bans the box for government employees only. The second is the one which applies to government entities and any business that contracts with government entities. Then the third, the one that is the broadest and gives the best of protections, takes the two that I’ve already mentioned and adds to it any private business within the locality.”
While none of the Tompkins County businesses interviewed for this article were willing to comment on Ban the Box, in some areas business interests have vocally opposed it. In an article for Cleveland.com, Director of Labor and Human Resources Policy for the Ohio Chamber of Commerce Sean Chichelli wrote, “Businesses ask candidates about their criminal histories on job applications in order to reduce liability and costs. Preventing them from doing so at the point of application only delays the necessary information they need right away.” Typically, Ban the Box advocates argue that delaying those questions allows applicants to be judged on their skills and experience rather than being summarily rejected for their pasts.
Rosenthal said that those with criminal backgrounds are not the only ones to benefit from the passage of Ban the Box legislation: “The benefits that flow from that are that if a person [with a criminal background] gets a job they now are a taxpayer, so there’s a benefit to the municipal entity in which they live. Now they’re paying taxes, they’re no longer in need of public assistance. There is the additional benefit that employment reduces the recidivism rate.” He added, “The Koch brothers have banned the box. Liberals shouldn’t be running away from this.”
Mayor Svante Myrick said that the city has talked about Ban the Box legislation in the past, but the matter never came to a vote. However, he voiced his support for the concept, saying, “If we deny people meaningful employment, we’re all but guaranteeing that they’ll go back to prison.”
One group of Cornell students, the Prison Reform and Education Project (PREP), has been actively raising awareness on the issue in recent months and one of the group’s leaders, Garrison Lovely, said that PREP has plans to address the Common Council about it during their regular May meeting. Lovely said, “We believe if you are sentenced and serve your time, you should not be punished repeatedly. It contributes to high recidivism.”
Legislator Leslyn McBean-Clairborne (D-Ithaca) said that, like the city, the county has briefly talked about Ban the Box legislation, but she did not recall where the conversation ended.
Legislator Dan Klein (D-Danby) said, “I think we should give serious consideration to this idea. The number of people in prison, and how they integrate back into society when they are out, is an issue that affects everyone. Ban the Box legislation could help with this problem without causing any difficulties for employers or restricting their rights.”
On the other side of the aisle, Legislator Dave McKenna (R-Newfield) said, “I’m not totally in favor of it, but I don’t know enough yet.”
Paula Ioanide, an Ithaca College professor who has been active regarding issues of incarceration and race, urged action on the issue. She said, “I keep wanting to hold Tompkins County accountable to their supposed promise to be at the forefront of alternatives to incarceration, and I think this county’s openness to reentry into formal labor markets would be a huge gesture in that direction. Less talk, more action.”
This article was originally published on ithaca.com. Photo and story by Keri Blakinger.
According to Ithaca Police Department (IPD) SWAT Commander Jake Young, there have been 34 barricaded suspect situations in Tompkins County since 1998—when the IPD tactical team was formed—and none of the others lasted nearly as long as the one at Hornbook Road between Dec. 30 and Jan. 2. Tompkins County Sheriff Ken Lansing, in an interview conducted weeks after the event, expressed surprise that the confrontation with David Cady on Hornbrook Road in Danby went as long as it did.
What actually happened and when on Hornbrook Road? What is known about David Cady?
The DWI arrest that ultimately led to a standoff on Hornbrook Road occurred in November 2013. While traveling to a friend’s house in Danby, Cady was pulled over. He failed a breathalyzer test and admitted to drinking five beers at home before driving.
Cady pleaded to a “Driving While Intoxicated” charge, in this case a Class D Felony, since it was his third DWI. The prosecution requested one to three years in state prison, but instead, in December 2013, Cady was given interim probation pending sentencing. Lansing said that Cady had already spent 20 to 25 days in the Tompkins County Jail for his earlier DWIs; he had served the time on weekends.
The following timeline is constructed from reports made to the Public Safety Committee (PSC) of the Tompkins County Legislature on Jan. 12 by Young, IPD Investigator and CINT member Michael Gray, State Police Lieutenant Todd Keister, and District Attorney Gwen Wilkinson and the interview with Lansing on Jan. 22.
Tuesday, Aug. 26, 2014
A bench warrant was issued after Cady missed a court appearance. Over the months that followed, according to Lansing, deputies repeatedly attempted without success to serve the arrest warrant. “Since October, we’d been there well over a dozen times,” said Lansing.
Tuesday, Dec. 30, 2014
7:46 p.m.: Two officers arrived at the 127 Hornbrook Road residence and made contact. Initially, his wife Melissa said that Cady was not home, but the officers insisted that they heard him inside. Eventually, Melissa Cady admitted that her husband was at home. She also told the deputies that her husband was armed.
8:33 p.m.: When the reportedly armed David Cady refused to come out of the house, the decision to request a SWAT deployment was made and SWAT Commander and Ithaca Police Department Sergeant Jake Young was notified of the situation.
8:47 p.m.: Chief John Barber texted an email approval authorizing the activation of SWAT. The SWAT was activated because officers on scene were told that David Cady had a loaded gun.
Shortly after 9 p.m.: Melissa Cady and her sons exited the premises.
Lansing said that Young made the calls for mutual aid on Tuesday evening, in part because of the weather. “Some of my officers were starting to feel that they were feeling hypothermia after half an hour,” he said. “That’s why he would call, not knowing for the weather.” Throughout the course of the standoff, a total of more than 100 officers were on scene (usually 30-40 at a given time), but Lansing said that had there been better weather it is possible that it would not have been necessary to call in so much help.
11:17 p.m.: Cady fired a shot out of an upstairs window. In his report to the Public Safety Committee of the Tompkins County Legislature Young said that at this time Cady insisted that the lights aimed at the house be turned off or “someone was going to get shot.” At this time the Elmira SWAT team was on its way and Young requested deployment of armored personnel carriers (APCs or “BearCats”) from Syracuse city police and the Onondaga County sheriff’s department.
Midnight: By this time negotiators had spoken with Cady 14 times and had attempted to get in contact with him by phone 44 times.
Morning, Wednesday, Dec. 31
2 a.m.: APCs owned by the New York State Police arrive. Over the next several hours the state police Special Operations Response Team (SORT) arrives at Hornbrook Road from around the state.
3:35 to 6 a.m.: At 3:35 a.m., Lansing said that officers prepared gas canisters for deployment.
4:16 a.m.: According to Lansing, the last direct contact with Cady was by phone at this time. Lansing said, “Cady stated that he’s armed up and come get him.”
5 a.m.: Melissa Cady said she heard a shot at this time. Lansing said that it could have been the police using of flashbangs—a non-lethal explosive device intended to disorient the subject—which began around 4:30 a.m.
5:45 a.m.: District Attorney Gwen Wilkinson arrives at the scene.
6 a.m.: Lansing arrives on the scene.
No one attempted to contact Lansing in earnest, he said in a Jan. 22 interview, “because they didn’t know they needed me. These incidents usually end within hours.” According to department protocol, the sheriff said, “The SWAT team is initiated by our people on the scene. It’s housed in the city, so they contact [IPD Chief] John Barber and the mayor. Jake Young, the SWAT commander, called for mutual aid. They know all about this stuff. I don’t.”
The sheriff was a mile and half from Hornbrook Road on Dec. 30, but he was in a location that was out of cell phone range. No one tried to reach him via a land line. He was checking his cell phone on his way to work at 6 a.m. on Dec. 31, saw the message and went immediately to the scene where his under sheriff, Brian Robison, was acting as “incident commander.”
The first gas deployment occurred at this time. There have been differing accounts of how many canisters of gas were deployed, with the lowest number being around 70. Young reported to the PSC that the gas was ineffective because the canisters were fired into the ceilings per procedure. The house had dropped ceilings, which, Young said, “caught” much of the gas.
7:40 a.m.: A BearCat armored vehicle was used to pry open the back door of the house, and two reconnaissance robots was sent in. They provided views of portions of the first floor, but stopped transmitting data after a short time.
8:30 a.m.: After getting a voicemail from Melissa Cady, Bill Furniss—David Cady’s long-time attorney—arrived on the scene. He said, “I identified who I was and asked if I could try to speak to him. So the trooper called his sergeant and they said they’d keep it in mind. I gave them my contact information and went home.” He lives only three miles from Hornbrook Road. Furniss said that he asked four more times—three times by phone, once in person—to make contact with Cady.
“They turned me down,” the attorney said. “They kept saying that they didn’t have any way to communicate with him. I said, ‘Don’t you have a bullhorn, don’t you have a speaker system? The guy trusts me and I can help talk him out.’ The last time I talked to somebody they said, ‘We have made concessions for Dave, and he has not followed through on his part.’” IPD Investigator and negotiator Michael Gray has verified that concessions were made to Cady. Gray did not disclose the nature of the concessions, but said that he departed from training when he made them.
Afternoon, Wednesday, Dec. 31
1:30 p.m.: Lansing said the state police SORT wanted to enter into the house. “I looked at them and said, ‘Gentlemen, I’m not comfortable with that,’” Lansing recounted. In the Jan. 22 interview the sheriff said he didn’t believe that the SORT team could complete the operation before dark, which he thought made it too dangerous. Wilkinson was consulted in this decision, and she concurred with Lansing.
5:47 p.m.: Although the last direct contact with Cady was early Wednesday morning, Lansing said in the evening of that day officers using binoculars saw him through the windows at this time.
7:43 p.m.: A “throw phone” was launched into the house. It was equipped with a audio monitor, which picked up the sound of Cady’s movements. At 9:30 p.m. police hear him coughing. (Throw phones provide a direct connection to the negotiator in the absence of a working cell phone.)
11:11 p.m.: The electricity to the house is cut off. The land line telephone remained functional; the throw phone monitor picked up the sound of its ringing when negotiators attempt to contact Cady.
Thursday, Jan. 1, 2015
7:52 a.m.: Police heard Cady coughing and clearing his throat.
Morning: Pennsylvania State Police arrived with a Rook, an armored vehicle that was used to create large openings in the home’s exterior. (The Rook, manufactured by Ring Power, Inc., a north Florida Caterpillar dealer, is an armored BobCat with several attachments, including a hydraulic breaching beam and a grapple claw.)
Afternoon: Police heard the sound of a washer and dryer being moved. It was the last sound picked up by the throw phone monitor in the house. Wilkinson left the Hornbrook Road scene having been there since Wednesday morning.
Evening: Lansing said officers began using the Rook to remove the carport for better access to the home.
8 p.m.: The removal operation is stopped for the day.
Morning, Friday, Jan. 2, 2015
8 a.m.: Removal of the carport was resumed.
8:27 a.m.: The Rook removed a wall of the house and officers were able to see Cady, who they quickly realized was deceased.
What We Know About David Cady
He will now forever be known for the unfortunate series of events leading up to his death but, before all this, who was David Cady? We don’t really know.
According to Furniss, “I knew he was married with two kids, was a hardworking guy.” He added, “He worked at the Auto Salvage right next to the house until they closed up. I knew through the grapevine that they loved him.” Furniss said he’d known Cady for at least seven or eight years, maybe longer. In fact, they lived near one another, which is why Furniss was so easily able to come to the scene during the standoff.
After Auto Salvage of Ithaca closed, Cady went on to work at Willcox Tire and Auto on Elmira Road in Ithaca. Tom Shea, a mechanic at Willcox, said that he and Cady had worked together for about two years. “He was very outgoing, liked to fool around and have a good time,” said Shea. He added, “We miss him a lot. He was great.”
Danby Supervisor Ric Dietrich said that he knew David Cady, in part because Cady had been regularly attending town board meetings. Dietrich, who described Cady as “very polite, very respectful” explained, “He was in the process … of starting a business venture in town.” Cady, along with his friend and business partner William Kuhns, was planning to open a new automotive shop, Eagle Automotive. “They had already started construction, right across from the old Danby market in the center of town,” said Dietrich.
In her statements to the Danby town board on Jan. 14 Melissa Cady said, “My husband needed help. I told the police from the beginning that he was suicidal. He needed someone to help him, and all they did is bring in more and more and more police.”
Lansing said, due to Health Insurance Portability and Accountability Act (HIPAA) laws, he was not privy to any information about Cady’s mental health, but he would “assume probably” there were mental health issues. (The sheriff noted that he did not consider alcoholism in and of itself a mental health issue.)
The arrest that led to the Danby standoff was not Cady’s first brush with the law. He had previously been arrested for DWIs in Chemung County in 2004 and in Tompkins County in 2008. While the first DWI was not a felony, the second was—and he was on probation for the second one when he was arrested in 2013 for the DWI that led to the standoff in December. Since the third DWI was a D felony, the maximum sentence would have been 2 ⅓ to 7 years.
What Is Being Done
Danby Town Supervisor has called for an independent investigation. Tompkins County Legislature Chair Mike Lane (D-14th) said, “As far as launching any kind of an independent investigation there are currently no plans to do that.”
Lane said an investigation isn’t off the table though. For now, the next step is waiting for the full report from the Sheriff’s Department. The sheriff is still waiting for the full autopsy results, although Lane said that information may not necessarily be included in the full report. Although Lane said that some things in it may not be public record, the report will come before the legislature’s Public Safety Committee.
For his part, Lansing said that he is not opposed to an independent investigation: “To be honest,” he said, “if it would put people’s minds to rest that we weren’t covering up something … I have no problem with that.” •
Note: This article, co-authored by Bill Chaisson and Keri Blakinger, originally appeared in The Ithaca Times.