Who cares about violence against women? Everyone? The media, definitely. But what about UCLA? That's a different story--one my partner in crime and I are about to tell. Partners in writing about crime, that is.
We know of two cases where UCLA covered up violent crimes against women. One was an employee who was brutally beaten, raped, and left for dead in a UCLA parking lot. Her husband--terrified by officials--says they tried to blame him for the crime.
It was never reported, as required by the federal Clery Act.
The other victim--not just of an unknown assailant, but of a devastating cover-up by her employer of thirty years--was a psychiatric nurse at the University's prestigious Neuropsychiatric Institute.
When the assault was first reported, police refused to investigate, then later lied about it in writing.
At the Medical Center, doctors ignored the conclusion of the attending physician and transformed a severe concussion from multiple head wounds into "a laceration" from an unconscious episode.
The University obstructs every effort made by the victim or her family in her behalf for justice and compensation for the loss of her health and career. The victim is left incapacitated, traumatized, and without salary or insurance to deal with permanent physical damage. And no one seems to care.
In a civilized society, where massive doses of media outrage are directed at victimized women, how can this happen?
Here's how.
It's early Saturday morning. The psychiatric nurse enters parking lot 8 after working a double shift at NPI. She wakes up an hour later, lying face down in a pool of blood on the ground. The campus police station is in plain sight, a few yards away. The parking office is on the same level, a few feet from where she has lain. But, for an hour, no one has come to her rescue.
Instinct tells her to flee to a place of safety. She staggers to her car, blood still dripping onto her face, and drives home.
The instant her family sees her, they know she's been attacked. They assume the perpetrator was one of the violent patients with whom she works. They've attacked before, but never this viciously. And injured staff don't leave the hospital covered with blood. Family members are frantic.
Dazed and barely coherent, the nurse tells them it happened in the parking lot. It--something--someone--must have knocked her unconscious.
They call the unit before rushing her to UCLA's emergency room. Nurse Ginny, who answers the phone, is told to warn the staff and alert campus police because "a maniac is loose in parking lot 8." Ginny later says that the officer who took her report sounded oddly disengaged.
Two women at the emergency room admitting desk are prepared for the nurse's arrival. They casually mention that parking lot 8 is always deserted on Saturday mornings. Inexplicably, they assert, and argue with the victim's family, that she wasn't attacked. She "just fell."
Two police officers arrive. They enter the dazed victim's room, spend a few moments there, and leave. This is to be the extent of their investigation.
A month and eight days later, Manny Garza, Operations Lieutenant for the campus police, writes a letter which the University will repeatedly use--along with falsified medical records--to successfully obstruct the victim's pursuit of a hearing.
The letter states, "UCLA Police Officers responded to the Emergency Room after being called to investigate an on-campus injury."
No. They were called to catch an assailant.
"They had only a general time and location."
No. They were told exactly where and when. If they had walked those few yards, they could hardly have missed the large pool of blood which was later washed away without being tested for DNA evidence.
The letter also says they "interviewed" the victim who "did not know how she sustained the injury."
No. They could not--and did not attempt--to "interview" a patient, lying in bed, drifting in and out of consciousness. If they had interviewed her, she would have said she was knocked unconscious.
"The officers inquired if she was the victim of a robbery. She indicated that no property was missing from her purse."
No. She didn't have a purse. It was a backpack, which no one had checked. But if the officers had checked it, they would have ascertained that the backpack would have cushioned a fall and prevented injury to the head.
"Based on the limited amount of information provided and no indication that a crime occurred, the officers concluded that the incident would be documented as an injury investigation."
No. A crime was reported. The officers had a duty to go to the scene. They had a duty to look at the head wounds, which could not have been sustained in "just a fall." The wounds were not just an "indication that a crime occurred," but proof of it. This specious police letter is in itself proof of a failure to investigate.
None of this matters to UC administrators. Lies are the only weapon they have against efforts to hold them accountable. The victim's only weapon is truth.
During her three days in the hospital, the nurse continues to feel dizzy and nauseated. She has trouble processing her thoughts and starts having nightmares. Her attending physician finds nothing wrong, other than the after-effects of an assault. Before releasing her patient, Dr. Meserve, who also uses parking lot 8, and has fears for her own safety, urges the victim's sister to check on the police investigation into the crime. The campus police tell her the "investigation is ongoing."
The victim's outside doctor, who also teaches at UCLA, tells her he is being harassed by UCLA to send her back to work because she suffered only "a laceration."
He corrects this misrepresentation in several FAXES, which UCLA claims to have lost. He gives his patient copies which say he still felt tremendous spasm in her neck, that she was lucky to be alive, after being "Mugged in UCLA parking area--unconscious--hospitalized--dizzy...neck injury."
About a month after the "incident," campus police detective Duenas also concludes that an attack occurred.
When the nurse can't cope with the insomnia and nightmares, she seeks help from a therapist. The therapist learns that no investigation ever occurred, and the police never acknowledged that a crime was committed.
Stunned and incapacitated, the nurse asks her sister to file a complaint with UCLA, the Regents, the California Nurses' Association, then-Assembly member Sheila Kuehl, and the Department of Education, which oversees violations of the federal Clery Act, which demands that campus crimes be posted.
Detective Duenas calls and sets up an interview. His is the only actual response.
At the meeting with the nurse and her sister, Detective Duenas apologizes for the lack of security which allowed the crime to occur, but, he says, the campus is "just too big" to be properly policed.
Damming words indeed.
He also apologizes for the lack of a proper investigation, and promises to post the crime on the police website.
This never happens.
Unfortunately, says the detective, it is unlikely the "assailant" will be caught a month after the "assault."
He asks the nurse and her sister if they have a theory of the "crime."
Manny Garza's letter, which is a total misrepresentation of the interview, says the sister was "adamant that her sister was the victim of assault. She even offered two theories, one of which was a conspiracy..."
A "conspiracy," huh? The sister sounds a little goofy, doesn't she?
But, several more than "two theories" were offered, and no conspiracy was ever suggested. However, this letter begins to look like one, doesn't it?
One theory overlooked by Mr. Garza was the violent ex-patient or current patient scenario. The nurse and her sister recounted their return to UCLA to pick up MRIs. A former patient accosted them on the sidewalk and behaved in a dangerously inappropriate manner.
Another suppressed theory had the victim unknowingly witnessing illegal activity. A drug deal, perhaps? Everyone seemed to know parking lot 8 was "deserted" on Saturday mornings. It was also open and free to the public.
Later it would be learned that body parts from UCLA were being illegally sold. Were they transported from parking lot 8, perhaps?
The so-called "conspiracy theory" alluded to in the police letter actually worried the victim and her family. But it had nothing to do with a conspiracy. They felt it might have been a straightforward murder attempt, perpetrated in behalf of a man who accused UCLA of murder. He accused the nurse of lying to cover up for UCLA's crime!
This, and another theory involved more of UCLA's failures to protect its employees. And worse. But those will be dealt with at a later time.
The letter calls the Detective Duenas meeting a "follow-up interview." It says, "The investigators advised her that we would not likely determine the cause of her injury and there was no further information to follow-up on."
No. There was no such conversation! The issue was not "the cause of her injury." That was irrelevant, especially a month later. The issue was insufficient security, and the refusal by police to investigate. Why didn't they investigate? That was unnerving.
"We are considering the incident closed," the letter says. It wasn't, and it never can be, not as long as UCLA continues to lie and inflict further pain on the victim with this cover-up.
"Thank you for your letter..." outgoing University President Mark G. Yudof wrote, "...regarding the University's investigation into the cause of the injuries for which you were treated..."
"...the cause?" Haven't we already established that "the cause" was never an issue? And it certainly was never mentioned in the many letters written by the victim and her family. But that was always the response they received.
The UC President goes on, "I understand that William Cormier, UCLA's Director of Administrative Policies and Compliance, has responded to you on this matter on February 4, 2013, April 3, 2009, and March 13, 2009. As I hope you will understand, the Regents and I have nothing further to add to what he has already said."
And what had William Cormier "already said?"
"This confirms that the UCLA police found no evidence of a criminal attack, as you assert took place in connection with the injuries you sustained in a UCLA parking lot structure..." Finally, "We regret the injuries you incurred at UCLA, but the University considers the matter closed."
And in the February 4, 2013 letter: "I regret that you remain dissatisfied with the University's investigation into the cause of the injuries for which you were treated..."
They really made use of that police letter, didn't they? And it's looking more and more like a conspiracy, isn't it?
Three months after the incident, Cynthia Cohen, UCLA's Director of Human Resources, is conducting her own investigation and discussing compensation with the victim for the loss of her ability to work.
More time passes. Eventually, Cynthia Cohen says she will conclude her investigation by reviewing the interview with Detective Duenas.
That's the last this nurse ever hears from Ms. Cohen. Did she see the discrepancies between that meeting and the police letter? Or was she not allowed access to campus police?
Six months after the incident, Octagon, the claims administrator for the University of California, is investigating. That goes on for months, with no apparent success.
It's now early August. The nurse is virtually bedridden and terrified by her deteriorating condition. Without a salary, without compensation for her losses, resources are being seriously depleted.
The family calls Octagon to urge a more rapid resolution. But the University replaced Octagon with Sedgwick as their claims administrator. No one informed the nurse. And, for days, Sedgwick can't find her files.
It is now August 9th, nine days before the one year anniversary of the "incident." Nine days before the statute of limitations denies the nurse her day in court. The claims administrator denies the claim without investigating so that the victim can file a lawsuit.
This isn't so easy.
The family frantically seeks help. Even Gloria Allred is contacted. She doesn't respond.
In a panic, the family files suit on its own. It also files complaints with numerous elected officials, including the Attorney General, District Attorney, City Attorney, and then-Assembly member Sheila Kuehl.
A Sheila Kuehl staffer curtly insists that the University did nothing wrong. To prove it, she sends the nurse a copy of the police letter. The family reads it, refutes it, but hears no more from Sheila Kuehl's office.
The family asks the court for a brief delay based on the new evidence of malfeasance in the letter, and the need to find an attorney.
In a surprise appearance, the University's attorney argues against what should be a routine continuance. But the delay of even a few days, says the attorney, would constitute an unfair financial burden for his clients.
The judge agrees. And the case is thrown out.
The family writes more complaints. Much later, then-Congressman Henry Waxman's office contacts the University in behalf of the nurse.
He writes back, "According to our liaison at UCLA, she has spoken with the General Counsel, Mr. Joe Mandel, and was informed that because you have a pending lawsuit, he can not comment on the situation."
No. There was no lawsuit. But calling and writing to Congressman Waxman did no good.
After years of escalating health problems, the nurse is hospitalized and undergoes more than fourteen hours of surgery. During her nine days in intensive care, she and the family learn from nurses that her medical records are false. It was not just a bureaucratic error that caused UCLA to refer to "a laceration." The medical records state she suffered "an unconscious episode" and received "a laceration" as a result.
"I have been lied to, and lied about for too long," says the nurse. "It has made my life an unrelieved hell. I wrote it all to the usual suspects, like UC President, Janet Napolitano, but nobody responded. At least," she adds with a grim chuckle, "I didn't have to read again that UCLA is unable to determine 'the cause' of my injuries."
