D5 – Cat. 01
Victim perhaps targeted in basement classroom
By Justin L. Mack and Hayleigh Colombo
Journal & Courier
A Purdue University engineering student was killed and a peer charged with his slaying Tuesday after a
midday shooting in a basement classroom.
It was the first on-campus shooting incident at Purdue in more than 17 years.
A suspect identified as Cody Cousins, 23, of Centerville, Ohio, was booked Tuesday evening into Tippecanoe
County Jail and was being held without bond in connection with the homicide, jail officials said. The victim
was identified as Andrew Boldt, 21, a senior in electrical engineering from Wisconsin who lived on campus,
according to Purdue officials.
The victim and the alleged shooter were undergraduate teaching assistants in electrical and computer
engineering. Although listed in different ECE courses, both are taught by professor David G. Meyer.
Reached in his office during the campuswide lockdown that followed the noontime shooting, Meyer declined
to comment. He later sent out an email message appealing to any students who witnessed the shooting to
contact police.
Purdue police Chief John Cox said Cousins did not resist when arrested and was not armed. He said it
appeared that the suspect had targeted the victim. The suspect was taken into custody moments after the
shooting.
The connection between the suspect and the victim was not immediately known, Cox said, adding that there
had been “little to no cooperation with the individual we took into custody.”
Purdue officials canceled classes through today and offered counseling services to students and employees.
President Mitch Daniels, who was in Colombia on university business Tuesday, issued a statement decrying
the shooting.
“Violent crime, whenever and wherever it occurs, shocks our conscience and incites our rage,” Daniels said.
“… Our prayers tonight are with Andrew and with his parents, who have suffered a loss beyond calculation or
consolation.”
The shooting occurred in a basement classroom in the Electrical Engineering Building on Northwestern
Avenue, Cox said. He said a sweep of the building was immediately conducted but that no additional suspects
were being sought.
West Lafayette police Chief Jason Dombkowski said Cousins had contact with West Lafayette police on a
prior occasion. According to Journal & Courier records, that was in January 2012, when he was arrested on
suspicion of public intoxication.
Provost Timothy Sands said a text alert system the university utilizes to warn students and staff worked as
planned. The shooting occurred about noon, and the alert went out within minutes.
Purdue University sent the following message: “Shooting reported on campus; Bldg. Electrical Engineering;
avoid area; shelter in place; Check www.purdue.edu for updates.”
Cox said 25 to 30 police officers were on the scene within minutes.
“We immediately did a couple sweeps of the building,” Cox said. “Kudos to the staff and the students. They
‘sheltered in place’ and did all the right things.”
“We feel we had control of the situation, and we are encouraging students to continue about their usual
business,” Sands said several hours after the shooting. “The campus is operating normally but certainly ... it’ll
take some time to digest this event and understand it.”
Earlier, people on campus were directed to remain “sheltered in place,” or stay where they were, from noon
until about 1:30 p.m.
At that point, an official in the Purdue Memorial Union told students they were free to move about campus
with the exception of the Electrical Engineering Building, which at that time was still being searched.
Two students told the Journal & Courier they heard what sounded like two shots and saw someone who
possibly had blood on his or her hands.
Nick Wieland, a sophomore, left the EE building about 2:15 p.m. with a group of students who said they were
in a basement classroom adjacent to the classroom where the shooting took place.
“I heard a couple (shots) and then I heard a man scream,” Wieland said. “Then the last few kind of trailed off
as I got under my desk. … (I was) just very scared. That’s what I felt the entire time.”
Four students were shuffling down North Street on their way home after they received texts from the
university to avoid the area around the Electrical Engineering Building.
Zachory Stewart, 19, of Indianapolis is in his first year at Purdue.
“I wasn’t exactly expecting it to happen up here,” he said.
Ashish Mahajan, 19, who is studying computer technology, was on his way to class in the Electrical
Engineering Building minutes after the shooting.
“It sounds really stupid. I mean, why would you shoot anyone, you know? They are your fellow colleagues,”
Mahajan said.
Jean Morrell, a 1980 Purdue mechanical engineering graduate, is chairwoman of the Mathematics and
Computer Science Department at Marquette University High School in Milwaukee, which Boldt attended. She
said he was a model student “who had so much to offer the world.”
“It is just so tragic,” she said. “We have very heavy hearts.”
D5 – Cat. 02
Waiting to exhale: ‘SHE WAS DONE’
Mikel Livingston
Courier & Journal
As his patrol car clock ticked just past 1:30 a.m. Saturday, Purdue police Officer Ryan Edwards pronounced
the night uneventful so far.
A few pullovers for broken license plate lights.
A quartet of students sharing a cigar and some bottles of vodka and lemonade near the stadium.
Others skateboarding along a dark street.
In other words, a typical Friday night/Saturday morning for Edwards, a self-described night owl who enjoys
the unpredictability of his 12-hour shifts.
Then, at 1:41 a.m., a 911 call came in from 302 Waldron St., the Phi Sigma Kappa fraternity house.
The code was for alcohol poisoning.
Such a report often can be a misnomer, Edwards said as he quickly aimed his cruiser toward Waldron.
“Typically, it means just a very drunk person,” Edwards said.
But because alcohol poisoning is potentially lethal, he’ll waste no time.
Edwards knows most fraternities by name, not by address, so as he zeroed in on the house his eyes darted,
looking for house numbers.
An ambulance arrived first, and Edwards pulled up behind it.
Edwards didn’t know it yet, but the worst was about to happen.
A fraternity member stood on the porch, ready to show emergency responders inside.
He was the one who made the 911 call.
A 20-year-old pharmacy major had passed out into the arms of a friend who didn’t even know the woman’s
last name.
Her gag reflex was gone; she could choke her own vomit.
Following a pair of paramedics, Edwards entered the house.
Their footsteps were loud over the wood flooring, amplified by the barren walls in the dining room.
The woman sat, slumped, at a long wooden table, a male friend beside her, his arm around her back, propping
her up.
The paramedics descended on the woman.
“What’s your name?” one of them shouted at her.
There was no answer as she lapsed into unconsciousness.
The paramedics lowered the girl to the floor, sitting her upright.
They couldn’t lay her on her back.
If she wasn’t going to choke on her own vomit, they’d need gravity on their side.
Edwards’ role now was to support the paramedics.
He ran to grab equipment from the ambulance, then began gathering information, working to establish a
timeline and determine if foul play was involved.
“Find out anything you can,” a paramedic called to Edwards. “Alcohol, drugs, whatever.”
Edwards stepped into the hallway, pulled out his notebook and pen and began peppering the male students
with pointed questions.
He focused on the woman’s friend first.
“When did you arrive?” “Where did you come from?” “How long has she been like this?” “Probably the last
hour,” the friend said.
Edwards determined that the woman stopped drinking about11:30 p.m. He was told she’d had seven to eight
glasses of wine.
Whether that was the truth, or how big those glasses were, Edwards couldn’t know.
Edwards relayed the information to the paramedics.
Two firefighters rushed in and dumped more medical equipment on the table.
The woman started vomiting again, but she did not appear to be breathing.
Paramedics swept her mouth with a suction device, clearing the vomit.
Another layer had caked the front of her shirt.
Quickly, the medics guided a tube down her throat, attached the bag and started breathing for her.
In the hallway, some men sat on the stairs.
Others stood, unsure what to do.
They looked tired and scared.
Edwards continued with the questions.
Then the police officer paused.
“That was a good call, you guys,” Edwards said of their decision to call 911for help.
One of the young men shook his head.
“I’ve never seen someone go from that – she wasn’t clammy. She was breathing fine. All of the sudden, it
snapped. She seemed fine right up until ...”
The paramedics loaded the woman onto a stretcher and then rolled her toward the ambulance, which headed
for St. Elizabeth East.
Edwards watched from the entryway.
He continued his questioning to establish her identity; the girl had no ID.
But once the woman was safely in the hands of paramedics, the police officer’s job was completed.
“When we get dispatched to an alcohol poisoning, it’s usually just a very drunk person,” Edwards said.
“This was alcohol poisoning. You could see by her color – she was done.”
By Monday morning, the woman had been released from the hospital.
When contacted days later, she declined to be interviewed.
D5 – Cat. 03
Sperry-Foutch traffic fatality: Edgewood officer arrested after fatal crash
Jack Molitor
The Herald Bulletin (Anderson)
A man was killed, a pregnant woman was airlifted to a hospital by medical helicopter, and an Edgewood
police officer faces felony charges in connection with the traffic accident between Lapel and Anderson on
Sunday afternoon.
According to a press release from Madison County Sheriff’s Department Maj. Brian Bell, the accident
happened about 12:30 p.m. and involved two vehicles heading west in the 7500 block of West Indiana 32.
Investigators believe that a 1996 blue Buick Century driven by 22-year-old Rebecca Marie Sperry of
Pendleton was struck from behind by a 2004 GMC Yukon SUV driven by 41-year-old James D. Foutch of
Anderson.
According to the release and witnesses, the impact of the hit forced the Buick off the road and into a nearby
utility pole.
The force from the vehicle snapped the utility pole in half and brought power lines down onto the vehicle.
Representatives from Duke Energy were called out to assist with the damaged lines.
Jesse Sperry, 23, Rebecca’s husband, was pronounced dead at 1:30 p.m.
by Madison County Coroner Marian Dunnichay.
An autopsy will be performed today.
Foutch is an officer with the Edgewood Police Department and was off-duty at the time of the accident.
About 7:30 p.m. Sunday, Foutch was arrested and booked into the Madison County Jail in a warrantless
arrest.
According to Bell, Foutch faces a charge of driving while intoxicated causing death, a Class B felony.
Investigators believe Foutch had prescription pills in his system, but neither Bell nor Madison County Sheriff
Ron Richardson was able to elaborate on what substance was involved.
Authorities have put a 72-hour hold on Foutch’s charges as investigators gather more information.
Rescue crews from Madison County Sheriff’s Department, Lapel Police Department, Edgewood Police
Department, Lapel Fire Department, Lapel Ambulance, Edgewood Fire Department, Edgewood Ambulance and
Seals Ambulance also assisted and helped to extricate Sperry from the badly damaged vehicle.
Wayne Pinkerton, who lives in a house right next to where the accident occurred, said he was working in his
home when he heard the unmistakable sound of an accident outside.
He rushed over to the crumpled vehicle and immediately tried to offer aid.
“It was pretty clear, immediately, that the man wasn’t going to make it,” Pinkerton said.
“The woman was very pregnant, but she was awake and conscious and alert. I know they lifelined her out.”
A Stat-Flight medical helicopter transported Sperry to St. Vincent Indianapolis.
According to the release, the woman had serious injuries.
No information about the woman’s unborn child was available.
A woman claiming to be a family friend of Sperry contacted The Herald Bulletin and said Sperry was nine
months pregnant, and that Sunday was her due date.
That information was confirmed by Richardson.
Foutch was not injured in the accident, but was taken to St. Vincent Hospital Anderson for a blood draw.
A passenger in the Yukon, 24-year-old Erica E. Manis of Anderson, complained of pain and was also
transported to St. Vincent Anderson for treatment.
The tract of the road was closed to traffic for almost six hours on Sunday while teams investigated.
Madison County Emergency Management announced at 4:30 p.m. that it had turned over control to Duke
Energy, which required the road to be closed for about two more hours.
D5 – Cat. 04
MS can’t take away his dad’s sense of humor
Thomas St. Myer
The Star Press (Muncie)
I always ask the question even though I already know the answer.
Every time I see my dad, James St. Myer, I ask, “How are you feeling?” His answer is always the same and
yet it is always jarring.
“I’m getting worse, but that’s what the doctors told me would happen,” he says.
Without fail, he then says, “It could be a lot worse. I go for my treatments and I see people in there dying of
cancer.”
Yes, it could be worse.
He’s right.
But it’s hard for me to accept that.
See, my dad has primary progressive multiple sclerosis (MS).
He was diagnosed in 2003. It’s severe and there’s no cure.
The disease has crippled him physically. He is relegated to a wheelchair.
He can only take a step or two before he falls, and my mom has to call EMTs to come and pick him up.
My mom called me once to help her get him in his wheelchair after he fell in a bathroom they invested
thousands of dollars in to make handicap accessible.
I nearly bawled my eyes out at the sight of him lying there helplessly.
I literally had to bite my lip to hold back the tears.
The next fall could be his last. That’s a thought I can’t shake.
I despise MS.
I despise it with every fiber of my being for what it’s done to a man I idolized long before I understood what
that word meant.
My dad isn’t my biological father, but he’s my dad in every way that counts.
He adopted me at age 2 and raised me as his own, even though I’m the spitting image of my biological father,
a man he loathes.
My dad’s a former police officer that taught me the difference between right and wrong, who gave me every
opportunity possible to succeed.
He was the best man at my wedding, and that was the easiest choice I’ve ever made.
Sadly, when I recall my wedding, my dad is as much in my thoughts as my wife, Kara.
That’s when it hit me just how much he had deteriorated physically and to a lesser extent mentally.
I was living in Palm Springs, Calif., when Kara and I came back to her hometown of Huntington, Ind., to be
married in November of 2004.
I had only spent a couple of days with him in the previous two years, so I had no idea how much MS had
impacted his coordination and his memory.
He was staggering as if he were drunk when he walked, and he asked the same question or brought up the
same topic in conversation every few minutes.
I felt horrible for him then, and now nine years later, I wish more than anything he was still in that good of
shape.
About two years after our marriage, Kara and I returned to visit family for the holidays.
By that time, my dad was a shell of his former self, and Kara and I decided before we left for Palm Springs
that it was time to move back home.
I pictured us living in Southern California the rest of our lives.
It was beautiful weather, beautiful scenery and I was covering college and pro sports.
What’s not to love about that? The absence of family, that’s what.
I wish I could say things have improved for my dad and the rest of my family since Kara and I returned in
2007.
That would be a lie.
For some reason, I pictured myself riding in like a knight on a white stallion and saving my family. Instead,
it’s my mom, God bless her, who’s been our rock.
My greatest fear is she’ll pass away first and the family will crumble around her grave.
I feel like a stranger in my own parents’ house.
I’m never sure what to say, and I feel guilty that I don’t do more to help my mom take care of him.
My dad is by himself on weekdays when my mom is at work.
It’s as if he’s on house arrest.
He sits on the couch watching his favorite TV shows, CSI, NCIS and the sort, counting down the minutes
until my mom gets home.
He jokes that he can watch the same episodes over and over because he can’t remember any of them.
He at least still has his sense of humor.
MS hasn’t taken that away from him.
How he manages to stay positive through all of this is beyond me.
I certainly haven’t.
When people ask me how my dad’s doing, I usually bite my lip for a split second and then say, “He’s getting
worse, but that’s what the doctors told him would happen.”
D5 – Cat. 05
Bullying of Ritz must stop
Mark Bennett
Tribune-Star (Terre Haute)
A kid outside the popular clique impresses so many classmates – especially those belittled by the in-crowd –
that she wins the election for class president. Irked by her encroachment into their hallway hierarchy, the
preppies shun her. They snub her idea for school spirit rallies. They plan their own homecoming bonfire to
compete with the traditional one she’ll preside over. She arranges a wear-our-school-colors day for Fridays;
they wear them on Thursdays.
You have to wonder how a school principal or counselor would handle such behavior. What word would they
use to describe such disrespect?
Someone within the leadership of the majority party ruling Indiana government should step up and be the
metaphorical football team captain who breaks ranks with the clique and shows up at the class president’s
bonfire. A Republican in a power position at the Statehouse should stand beside Glenda Ritz and affirm her
authority to perform the duties of state superintendent of public instruction – the full duties of that job, just as an
overwhelming number of Hoosiers elected her to do last November.
Since taking office in January, Ritz has seen her office’s powers usurped and circumvented by an ideological
circle ruling Indiana government still stung by her surprising electoral defeat of Republican former state
superintendent Tony Bennett. Though Ritz was a lifelong Republican, the veteran teacher ran as a Democrat to
challenge Bennett, a national star of the school-reform movement. Though outspent by a 10-to-1 margin, Ritz
received more than 1.3 million votes. Ritz polled more votes for superintendent than Mike Pence, a former
Republican congressman, did in his narrow victory in the governor’s race.
The most powerful of Bennett’s allies have yet to accept that outcome. Their rejection of Ritz’s authority has
reached a level of incivility beyond any in recent memory within the state education structure.
Last spring, Pence and aligned GOP legislators essentially created a second state education department to go
around Ritz. They shifted $5 million for staffing the State Board of Education from Ritz’s office to the
governor’s, setting up a new career-training and education agency which Pence unveiled in August. A more
overt attempt by Bennett backers in the Legislature to dilute Ritz’s role by overhauling the State Board and the
Indiana Education Roundtable was appropriately stopped in the 2013 General Assembly session.
The shunning continues, though. Last month, one of the 10 members of the State Board – all appointed by
either former Gov. Mitch Daniels or Pence – established a strategy planning committee to lead the board and
determine priorities for the next three years. The new strategy panel is backed by all of the State Board
members, except Ritz, who holds the chairperson’s seat as superintendent. By contrast, Ritz was backed by 1.3
million Hoosier voters.
Ritz campaigned hard in opposition to limits on teachers’ collective bargaining, private-school vouchers and
the A-F school rating system pushed by Bennett, Daniels, national reformists and like-minded state lawmakers.
Yet, since her term began, she has gone to great lengths to collaborate with those of opposing viewpoints. A
solid core still refuses to work with her. Unless someone intercedes, the childish, detrimental tactics will
continue, especially in the upcoming 2014 legislative session.
“I just think there will probably be things coming through the legislative process that will try to diminish my
power as superintendent,” Ritz told The Associated Press on Wednesday. “They could include removing me as
chair of the board; they could include overseeing more of my budget; they could include overseeing of data.”
D5 – Cat. 06
Cummins/Nissan partnership
Randy McClain & Boris Ladwig
The Republic (Columbus)
Cummins plans to build a new light-duty diesel engine in Columbus, starting with a new global partner,
Nissan, which will use the product in its next-generation Titan pickup.
Cummins already has begun to add employees but will ramp up production next year, ultimately hoping to
add as many as 500 jobs, more than doubling Columbus Engine Plant’s current workforce of 300.
The company said it will deliver the first new engines in the fourth quarter of 2014 to customers who will use
the engine to power commercial vehicles, including buses, vans and light trucks.
Cummins and Nissan formed the partnership to allow both companies to make inroads into the light-duty
pickup market’s diesel segment, in which they currently have no product.
The 5-liter V8 engine would have an output of more than 300 horsepower and at least 500 pound-feet of
torque, according to Cummins.
In comparison, the 6.7-liter medium-duty engine Cummins makes for the Ram trucks generates in excess of
350 horsepower and 660 pound-feet of torque.
Chairman and Chief Executive Officer Tom Linebarger said Tuesday that some consumers have shied away
from larger diesel trucks because of the higher price and because they do not need the power, he said.
Cummins believes, however, that a segment of the truck-buying population will opt for a lighter
dieselpowered truck because of the better reliability and fuel economy.
Linebarger said that the new engine will provide dependability and a balance of power, performance and fuel
economy, which could be appealing to buyers of pickups to delivery truck drivers and contractors loading
materials into the back of their vans or pickups.
“It is a big day for everyone here,” Linebarger said, as he stood on a small podium on the second floor of the
engine plant, large windows behind him showing the machinery on the production floor.
The number of new positions and ultimate economic impact will depend upon the diesel-powered Titan’s
popularity.
Wages for new employees will be comparable to other plants and start at $11 to $12 per hour, said Jeff
Caldwell, general manager of the company’s pickup business.
Other factors were not immediately clear at Tuesday’s announcement, including:
■ When the Cummins powered Titan will be available.
■ Expected annual production.
■ Exactly when new employees would be hired.
Nissan is looking to increase its share of the light pickup market, which it projects could reach about 300,000
vehicles in the U.S.
Nissan has but a small share of the market, compared with the top-selling trucks from Ford, Chevrolet and
Ram.
Nissan sold 22,000 Titans last year.
Even in a bad year, Cummins ships about three times as many midrange diesel engines to power Ram trucks.
Linebarger said after the announcement that lackluster Titan sales contributed to Nissan’s decision to form the
partnership with Cummins.
“For them, this is a big opportunity,” Linebarger said.
Cummins produces the 6.7-liter diesel engine at Columbus MidRange Plant near Walesboro for the 2500 and
3500 versions of the Ram pickup.
The light-duty diesel that will power the Titan initially was conceived by Cummins for the 1500 version of the
Ram, but that project was scuttled by the bankruptcy of Ram’s parent, Chrysler.
The diesel-powered light pickup market has gained some traction in recent months, as both Ram and Ford
announced models with a 3-liter V6 this summer.
Unlike some of the Titan Turbo Diesel’s rivals, however, the new engine for the Titan was designed
specifically for the light-duty truck, not revised from other applications, Linebarger said.
The Ram’s light-duty diesel, for example, also powers the Jeep Cherokee.
That engine was designed by Italy-based VM Motori, partially owned by Chrysler’s new parent, Fiat.
D5 – Cat. 08
Family’s birthday card gets heavy use
John Carlson
The Star Press (Muncie)
Let’s face it, $2.25 was a pretty hefty sum to pay for a birthday card nine years ago, but nobody can say the
seven Barrett siblings haven’t gotten the most out of their investment.
They’ve been sending that same card to each other since 2005, which was also the year that family matriarch
Mary Barrett died.
“I thought we needed something to give us a pick-me-up,” recalled Jill Bartle, who is one of those Barrett
siblings, who range in age from 55 to 75.
“I just thought it was time for something different to do.” As Jill spoke, she was sitting at her dining room
table, upon which a bounty of baked goods was placed, along with a variety of coffee mugs.
Within reach of each mug sat a sibling or in-law, including Jill’s husband, Dave; her sister, Mary Jane James;
her sister-in-law, Jaunita Barrett; her brother, Carroll Barrett; another sisterin- law, Sandy Barrett; her brother,
Ronnie Barrett, and her sister, Beth Smith.
Missing were her sister, Karen Dodd, and her husband, Bob; her sister, Jackie Stephens, and her husband, Jay,
and Mary Jane’s husband, Randy.
Still, the missing family members notwithstanding, this was a boisterous, happy group.
“A lot of people,” said Jaunita, “think we’re ...” “ Loud,” interjected Sandy, drawing a chorus of laughter.
Jaunita had meant to say “unusual.” “If everybody was here, you wouldn’t be able to hear anything,” Sandy
added.
Meanwhile, amidst the coffee mugs, sweet bread and brownies, stood the card.
With a colorful, sort of cartoon-like front, it read, “You can yell and scream about another birthday – but
there’s no getting out of it.” Opening the card and looking closely, the highlighted inside read, “like when
someone flushes the toilet and you’re in the shower.” “It was humorous,” Jill said, explaining why she chose it
to send to Carroll for the first time.
“It sounded like us.” Then it began making the rounds, which is the reason you had to look closely to read it.
After nine years of use, handwritten greetings seem to cover every square inch.
“We’re going to have to add a page in here,” Carroll observed, leading Mary Jane to note that because it’s so
full, “It takes a while sometimes (to find the new birthday message).” But then Jill studied the card, almost
squinting as she looked, and liked what she saw.
“There’s still a lot of room here,” she said, adding she figured it will last another year.
But let’s back up.
When Jaunita had meant to describe her family as unusual, it was because of the obvious bonds of warmth
and love between them, bonds strong enough that they aren’t afraid to laugh about those ties.
“We have tolerated them all these years,” Mary Jane joked, of the in-laws who married into the clan.
But on a more serious note, Beth said, “It’s great to be part of a family like this.
There are a lot of families that don’t stay together like we do.” Meeting for regular dinners and coffee
“klatches” is a part of that.
But nothing illustrates the familial bonds like that well-worn birthday card, which is only sent among the
original family members, plus one non-family member the Barretts consider another sister.
“I was surprised the first time I got it,” Beth recalled of the card, adding that now, “Every year you want it
back.” The birthday card has even ranged as far abroad as Africa, where Mary Jane and her husband spent a
couple of years as missionaries in Nairobi’s Africa Nazarene University.
Did it surprise her when the card arrived there? “I expected it to come,” she said.
“Oh, here it comes again,” Ronnie deadpanned, offering the inlaws’ reaction to all this.
“We used to be able to write notes to each other,” Jill added, noting the present space restrictions.
“Now it’s down to “Happy birthday, 2014.” When it’s time to send the card on, some fevered searches have
ensued.
“There’s been a couple times somebody’s misplaced it for a while and been in a panic,” Jill said.
But does it ever not arrive, period? Well, Mary Jane acknowledged, sadly, she was missed one year, which led
her siblings around the table to quickly assure her that won’t ever happen again.
“Oh, sure,” she said dubiously, sort of faking a pout, or maybe not faking a pout.
“We’ll see.” Meanwhile, the Barrett siblings vow they will keep sending that birthday card as long as they
live, and hope that when the time comes, the younger generations will continue the practice.
That will further reduce the per-use cost of that $2.25 card, since the immediate family and its offspring now
number about 85 people.
“We’re a pretty fertile family,” Ronnie explained.
D5 – Cat. 09
Softer side
Jon Blau
The Herald-Times (Bloomington)
When he got the news, it was no surprise Fred Cate was at an airport.
A flight for congressional testimony in Washington, D.C., is followed by a board meeting at Microsoft
headquarters in Seattle, which is followed by a conference with the Organisation for Economic Cooperation and
Development in Paris. The data revolution calls because he arrived in the right time and place – an expert on
privacy and the law in the age of Edward Snowden and the National Security Agency.
But years before Americans would hear the name Snowden, Beth Cate met her husband at the Charlotte
airport and delivered news of a different sort.
“Snowflake died.”
“People passing by,” Fred Cate remembers. “They must have thought I had lost a loved one.”
The world’s weightiest struggles with technology and “Big Brother” are one thing; the death of a pet gerbil is
another.
The man directing the Center for Applied Cybersecurity Research at Indiana University comes to the airport
armed with suits and ties and a cool command of intellectual debate, but he leaves the fray with his sensitivity
intact.
He loves animals – big and small, real or imaginary. He tells time with a Winnie the Pooh wristwatch, a
timepiece prone to slip out from under his left sleeve during committee hearings. He has collected thousands of
stuffed animals, travel companions during long flights to and from meetings. Because of his crammed schedule,
there is no place for live pets at the Cates’ Bloomington home these days, but they dote over an elephant and an
Alaskan brown bear they “parent” at the Indianapolis Zoo.
Cate doesn’t take himself too seriously, but he’s an internationally respected voice in his field. The powerful
listen as he tells them uncomfortable truths about invading privacy. The Transportation Security Administration
placed hundreds of body scanners in airports; too bad, Cate said, they do more to show someone naked than to
root out terrorism. Governments use metadata to pre-empt wrongdoers; but remember, Cate said, data can be
misinterpreted.
Despite all his thinking, there is no keeping up with a bullet train of technological advances. At some point,
between the flights, the briefings and the lectures, he withdraws back to his other life.
That life has its quirks.
Even as Beth Cate utters the name Snowflake years after the gerbil’s death, Fred Cate walks out of the living
room, unsure of his composure. Snowflake started out as a neighbor’s pet. The Cates filled in so well during the
neighbor’s vacation, her stay became permanent. They made sure she had a mountain of shredded cardboard to
scale.
As he recalls Snowflake, his eyes are drawn to the backyard where he buried her. The motion-activated lights
have turned on and now illuminate the manmade waterfall outside his bathroom window. “I’m going to see who
that is,” Cate says. He grabs his camera and hurries down a dark hallway. Under a pair of bird feeders, a rabbit
gnashes its teeth.
Before the lights switch off, Cate gets his bunny picture.
Petey and Timothy T.
The world was once a simpler place. Cate’s father was an Old Testament scholar and a Baptist preacher who
taught the local kindergartners about Petey Church Mouse and Timothy T. Turtle.
According to Robert Cate’s stories, Petey lived in a tissue box in the preacher’s top drawer, but would embark
on wild adventures. The fox and the raccoon, who also populated the stories, didn’t sneer at one another as they
would in real life. They were friends.
Fred Cate’s own plush miniature of Petey sits in a glass case. Small things still captivate him. At the zoo,
during one of his weekly Sunday visits, he set a pretzel down to photograph a lion. He then heard the dragging
of wax paper beneath him. A mouse pulled his snack back into the brush.
A brave mouse to live where it did. An ambitious mouse to claim a prize twice its size.
“Needless to say, I wasn’t going to fight him for it,” Cate said.
He took a picture, or several.
On a Monday, Cate heads back to his office at the Maurer School of Law and a world far removed from the
innocence of Petey Church Mouse or animals at the zoo. In the early 1990s, when he first started lecturing on
the scope of the “World Wide Web,” he would bring a Kellogg’s cereal box to point to the “www.” The Internet
was a small thing then. Now, the malicious code that spun Iran’s nuclear centrifuges out of control floats
through cyberspace. A microchip no bigger than a grain of sand rests inside a pill.
When swallowed, the chip transmits data from within the human body.
Cate doesn’t see technology as a malevolent force by itself. “It could all be wonderful,” he says. He imagines
a service where patients with multiple medications opt to have an ambulance rushed to their door if the dataproducing pill detects a deadly mix.
But humanity’s fascination with technology can push it forward without accounting for the risks.
“Every time a former student walks in my office, I’d love if their image popped up on my glasses and told me
who the hell they are,” Cate says. “On the other hand, it’s going to lead to instant fraud. If I can get your Google
Glass to tell you I’m somebody that I’m not, you are going to believe I’m somebody I’m not.” In his role with
Microsoft’s academic advisory board on Trustworthy Computing, as well as gigs advising the presidential
campaigns of George W. Bush and Barack Obama, the Department of Homeland Security and the Department
of Defense, Cate weighs the potential effects of the data revolution on private lives. It’s a complex picture. The
Internet, after all, not only is a vehicle for porn, malicious viruses and massive theft, it also pays the bills,
delivers Social Security checks and might even introduce you to the love of your life.
Such huge complexity is Cate’s life. But there comes a time for him to disconnect from the digital world.
Below his desk and a pile of academic papers, a sheep named Norman rests at his feet. Just one of many.
Island of Misfit Toys One full bedroom wall is outfitted with shelves, and those shelves are completely
covered by stuffed animals.
There are no cyber-terrorism thrillers on Cate’s bookshelves. He couldn’t stand to bring that part of his life
home.
But the living room has two walls lined with shelves and Starbucks teddy bears – holiday themed for
Christmas, Valentine’s Day and New Year’s, baseball themed from various cities across the U.S., along with a
white-wigged George Washington from D.C. and a taxi driver bear from New York City.
Starbucks also has released 70 country-themed bears, but Cate has chosen only to get the bears from countries
he has visited. “You’ll find a new wife,” Beth Cate warns him as he sorts through the collection, “if we get
every country.” “You cannot walk into a room that has 400 bears in it and be depressed or sad or uptight or
worried,” Cate said. “I’ll come out of a budget meeting, slamming things around, knocking stacks of paper over,
but I come home and see all these furry, smiling faces.” A survey by the hotel chain Travelodge once found a
quarter of men travel with a stuffed animal. Cate doesn’t hide that he’s one of them – a child-sized moose once
sat in a nearby airplane seat, belt fastened. For Cate, a stuffed animal in a suitcase is no different than a child in
one.
Cate and his furry companions have flown all around the world. He’s advised the governments of Finland,
Japan and Taiwan. He’s worked with China, as well. He recently traveled there to talk to students about privacy
protections, an awkward task following Snowden’s revelations of domestic spy programs in the U.S.; after all,
American policymakers have been flogging China for years about its surveillance state.
Leaks from Snowden about NSA data-mining operations kept Cate’s phone ringing through the summer of
2013, with media outlets wanting his perspective on it all. Cate has access to confidential documents –
guidelines on how to protect the cyber infrastructure of a water plant, for example – but he jokes he’s slightly
bitter that, despite Snowden’s somewhat lower level security clearance, the young NSA contractor saw “juicier”
information.
Called to serve on President Obama’s review group on the intelligence community, Cate advocated for an end
to bulk data collection programs and a split of the NSA, one part securing data for the Department of Defense
and the other responsible for surveillance. Otherwise, the intelligence gatherers will exploit the weaknesses
uncovered by security personnel.
Obama recently called for legislative action to require a judge’s order before the government can access
phone companies’ records. While the government will no longer store the data, legislators in the House want
investigators to be able to access the data before it is reviewed by a court.
Cate has been watching, wondering how far the president, a former constitutional law professor, will go.
“My fear is that it’s an issue that is not worth his political capital,” Cate says of reforming the intelligence
community, “and it will certainly take a lot of political capital.” His home, his privacy Beth Cate is a legal
scholar herself – she went to Harvard with Obama – so the conversations about privacy law never quite end.
Fred and Beth Cate might teach a class together and, an hour afterward, in the parking lot, continue to bounce
back and forth about what they heard on the news.
Eventually, there’s a pause. They return to their plush animal kingdom, insulation against busy thoughts. A
line of polar bears from Coca-Cola ad campaigns loop around the living room, and Cate once flirted with the
idea of painting his ceiling with Michelangelo’s painting “The Creation of Adam,” with a bear subbing for
Adam.
As over-the-top as this aspect of Fred Cate’s personality might seem, his colleagues understand it. He cares
about people. He cares about animals, and he goes as far as to care about stuffed animals, rescuing a toy duck he
later named Hu De from a display full of toy pandas in China. “They call to you,” Cate said, “and how can you
say no?” The thought of Cate’s shelves evokes laughter from Microsoft’s Chief Privacy Officer Peter Cullen.
But Cullen has seen both sides of Fred Cate, and he doesn’t underestimate either one – the person or the
professional.
“He’s so smart, and he doesn’t suffer fools lightly,” Cullen said. “There’s just a part of him that is very
compassionate. He’s a multi-faceted person.” Earlier this month, in Paris, Cate joined Cullen and privacy
officers from large data-holding companies, and data protection officials from across Europe, to work on a
“Privacy Risk Framework.” Cate wants a threshold-based system where some data face more stringent
regulations against sharing than others, but individuals wouldn’t be burdened by choice. Does someone really
have a choice, he asks, when they must click “I agree” or “No, thanks” on a user agreement that would take
hours to read? On the other hand, why can the U.S. government collect information about every phone call, but
laws make it almost impossible to collect medical information for research? “If we are going to have all the
incursions of using data,” Cate said, “let’s at least heighten the benefits.” These questions circle through Cate’s
mind as he sinks his teeth into a “Hobo banquet” breakfast at Le Peep restaurant in Indianapolis, an hour before
he heads to the zoo. He pays with his credit card, leaving one “digital footprint.” Outside, there are cameras on
street corners recording his walk back to his car.
A bear’s life Only a thin, black glove protects Cate’s clicking hand from the cold. The camera’s 400millimeter lens is cupped by an ice-fishing mitt on his left. He works for his next photograph, encouraging a 3year-old Alaskan brown bear to live completely as a bear. Mi-kal, impervious to the chill, sits up and relaxes as
if he’s lounging in a lawn chair.
“I’m a bear, and I am very happy to be a bear,” Cate says to Mi-kal as the animal flops back to the ground.
“There is no greater dignity in life.” This is nearly every Sunday for Cate, in the cold or the heat, before crowds
arrive and the only sounds are the scratching of leaves along an abandoned trail. Tuesday will bring a flight to
somewhere and important meetings with a who’s who of professors, politicians and executives, but on Sunday,
he takes thousands of pictures and tells a keeper how his wife says he is 75 percent bear.
Only 25 percent removed from bliss.
Beth Cate will spend her time at the zoo rubbing the bottom of Tombi the elephant’s tree-stump feet and
scooping up with a steel shovel what Tombi leaves behind. Fred Cate will stand outside of Mi-kal’s space and
watch him lie flat on his back, legs spread apart.
Mi-kal offers Cate a reprieve from privacy questions. The bear doesn’t care if his picture is taken, how the
image will be used, what it will look like.
He’s happy to be alive. His mother was shot after an encounter with a jogger. He was found in “disgusting
condition,” Cate said. But fortune came at the right time. The female brown bear at the Indy Zoo, Kiak, had just
had her brother die; bears don’t live together in the wild unless they are related.
“She conveyed heartbreak as effectively as you could convey it, to not use words,” Cate said.
It was a long shot, but with the help of FedEx and Cate’s sponsorship, Mi-kal was shipped from Alaska to
Indiana to bond with Kiak. “It was an unmitigated disaster,” Cate said.
Mi-kal, younger and smaller than Kiak, cowered in fear when she graciously offered him her share of fish and
cardboard.
But Mi-kal grew up, and now the two bears playfully bite at each other’s throats. They wrestle and slide on
their backs in the winter snow.
A keeper throws slices of strawberry and peach into their enclosure, and Mi-kal sits in front of Kiak. He eats
everything. “She brought you her fish, and you aren’t going to share?” Cate chides. Kiak slaps Mi-kal on the
back, but he doesn’t move. Their heads turn in unison to follow a falling leaf as it floats by.
Leaving a half-hour stay with Mi-kal, Cate spend a minute or two with the sea lions – “You have to pay your
respects,” Cate says – then joins his wife with Tombi, the elephant they helped bring to the zoo in the late ‘90s.
On the car ride up, Beth Cate had wondered if Tombi would take a liking to the shampoo she had used that
morning. Tombi did, a point confirmed when the elephant inhaled the fragrance of Beth Cate’s hair with her
trunk. Tombi gets her bath, extending her ears like wings as a hose blast cleans behind them.
Zoo staff then let Tombi out from her indoor enclosure, for only a few seconds because of the cold. Fred Cate
nestles his head up against her thick skin and whispers into her ears. “Hey there, girl.” He takes a hundred
photographs and says goodbye.
Before the drive back to Bloomington, Cate sits in his car, checks his Winnie the Pooh watch and waits for his
wife to come out of the elephant enclosure. She slips into the passenger seat, the distinct aroma of what she’s
been shoveling hanging in the air. One time, she says, the scent so overwhelmed a police officer when she
rolled down the window that it got her out of a speeding ticket.
Tuesday will be a day for suits and airport security. Sunday is the smell of escape.
D5 – Cat. 10
The death and life of Daniel Kline
MaryJane Slaby
Journal & Courier (Lafayette)
Daniel Kline’s watch stopped at 7:05 a.m.
It was Aug. 25, a Sunday morning, and the popular 23-year-old was driving north on Interstate 65 to West
Lafayette from an Indianapolis hotel, where he had stayed after celebrating his cousin’s 21st birthday.
About four miles from the Indiana 38 exit near Dayton, Daniel’s 2006 Hyundai ran off the east side of the
road and down a steep and heavily wooded embankment.
The vehicle rolled at least once.
A semi driver stopped to call 911.
Five minutes later, Indiana State Trooper Darrick Scott responded.
It took five more minutes for him to find the Hyundai with Daniel inside – his license, money and Purdue
University student ID scattered on the ground. A preliminary blood test would later establish that his bloodalcohol concentration was well over the legal limit of 0.08 percent.
At that early hour, Daniel, an assistant manager at Discount Den, should have been preparing to open the
near-campus store, where customers knew him as “Discount Dan” or “Dan from the Den.” Instead, state
troopers escorted his parents, Stewart and Suzanne Kline, to IU Health Arnett hospital.
Shortly after 8 a.m., Stewart called Adrienne Weliky, Daniel’s sister.
She and her husband, Gordon, were in Indianapolis, too, and stayed at the hotel with Daniel and friends.
All Stewart said was that Daniel had been in a “serious accident.” Instead of going to breakfast, Adrienne and
Gordon drove straight to the hospital.
And so began an ordeal for which no family is ever prepared but many must eventually confront: the
agonizing, yet ultimately liberating, decision to donate Daniel’s organs.
Daniel was the third person in Tippecanoe County to give a live donation in August – something Coroner
Donna Avolt said is extremely rare.
Even more rare was Daniel’s blood type – AB negative.
And that meant a longer-than-usual process to find recipients.
The 36-hour journey became a delicate passage from Daniel’s life to the lives he would save.
Once they arrived at the hospital, Gordon and Adrienne began calling Daniel’s close friends and co-workers.
It was not a short a list, and several soon came to the hospital.
Daniel left surgery in a coma and was wheeled to the intensive care unit.
His brain was swollen and the pressure was dangerously high.
His lung had collapsed, other organs were bruised and early indicators showed potential brain damage.
Nurses worked ceaselessly, admiring photos of Daniel from his mother while adjusting and re-adjusting
medications and staying past the end of their shifts.
Gordon, Adrienne and Daniel’s parents never left his side, at most taking 30-minute naps.
They always woke up for any sort of results.
At 3:15 a.m.
Monday, Gordon texted Gordon Wantuch, one of Daniel’s closest friends, to tell him that the neurologist had
ordered a brain scan to see the extent of Daniel’s brain damage.
“I don’t really think a huge crowd of people out in the waiting room would be very appropriate, considering
we might be getting some really bad news,” he texted.
“But I know how much Daniel means to you guys so you’re obviously welcome to be here.”
7:59 A.M. MONDAY
The brain scan declared Daniel brain dead.
Stepping away, the doctors and nurses who had worked feverishly to keep Daniel alive gave his family time
alone.
Grief-stricken, Gordon went to tell Daniel’s friends.
His family wondered what would happen next.
“What do we do now?” Stewart recalled asking.
“How do we end this? “And then it dawns on you,” he continued. “He’s alive. His body works.”
What about organ donation?
“It’s a hard thing to think about your loved one being pulled apart,” Gordon said. “You want him to beat
peace, and be himself and be at peace forever.” But the family wanted to do what Daniel would have wanted.
The bag of belongings that police brought to the hospital contained Daniel’s driver’s license.
Looking at it, they saw their answer.
“A big, old red heart,” Stewart said. “That settled it.”
Although Daniel had never talked about it, the red heart on his license – signifying his desire to donate his
organs in the event of his death – didn’t surprise his family.
It was just like Daniel, a sensitive and sincere young man who stopped to talk with everyone.
When family members brought up the idea to Daniel’s nurses, it didn’t surprise them either.
They already had been in touch with the Indiana Organ Procurement Organization.
Anytime a patient scores lower than 5 on the Glasgow Coma Scale – a neurological assessment to test a
person’s conscious state – hospitals are required to notify IOPO, said Jen Hittle, a charge nurse at the IU Health
Arnett ICU.
Hours before Daniel’s brain scan, IOPO waited, knowing that if the unthinkable happened, Daniel had
registered as an organ donor.
10:56 A.M. MONDAY
In a consultation room, Daniel’s family met Clyde Spann.
A family services coordinator from IOPO, Spann, an unassuming and warm man, has worked with families in
distress like this for years.
In Indiana, anyone 13 and older can register to be an organ donor.
IOPO meets with families to explain the process and make choices about what organs will be donated.
Once the donation process begins, IOPO takes over clinical care of the patient and picks up the bills.
A flag in honor of the organ donor is hoisted outside the hospital.
Spann told Daniel’s family that there is a critical shortage of available organs because not enough people
agree in advance to be donors.
“When you know the information, it’s hard to say no,” Spann said.
“Most people want to save a life.” Daniel’s family chose to donate his organs.
It’s a donation for which only about 5 percent of deaths qualify because it involves a patient with massive,
nonsurvivable brain damage, Spann said.
The family wouldn’t be able to be by Daniel’s side as his heart stopped beating, but they were no longer
tasked with having to decide when to end life support.
Spann first helped Daniel’s family to determine if they wanted to offer a directed organ donation to someone
they knew on a waiting list.
But no one they knew had an AB blood type.
Spann then explained that information about Daniel’s organs would be entered into the United Network of
Organ Sharing to find a recipient.
He said doctors could request additional testing and recipients had requirements they had to meet as well.
All the family could know about the recipients of Daniel’s organs would be basic, anonymous information,
unless those recipients agreed to tell more.
Normally, the process is complete within eight to 12 hours.
In Daniel’s case, however, his rare blood type meant it could take 36 to 48 hours, Spann said, because the
matched recipients could be farther away.
Just a few hours after the family meeting, the IOPO clinical team arrived.
They took blood and tissue samples to a lab in Indianapolis, where they waited hours for results, said Matt
Wadsworth, manager of organ services for IOPO.
The clinical team reviewed Daniel’s medical history, evaluated organ systems and changed medications to
preserve his organ functions.
Spann stayed with Daniel’s family.
Anytime he saw they were glazed over from hearing medical terms, he’d stop the doctor or nurse.
“Can you explain that term to them?” he would ask.
Spann showed the family the flag hoisted outside for Daniel. They took picture after picture on their
cellphones.
“Such a silly little thing, but it just means so much,” Gordon said.
Stewart said Daniel’s rare blood type became a mixed blessing–saving lives but adding time to the process.
“His chest is moving up, his heart is beating, his hands are warm,” Stewart said.
“You want him to stop suffering once you know.” But the family’s focus changed to Daniel’s life – and the
number of lives his precious gifts could spare.
A former lifeguard, Daniel protected swimmers at local pools in high school.
And on a family trip to the Bahamas, he saved his sister when their parasail broke, plunging them into the
water and trapping her, Stewart said.
How many more lives could he save now?
4:45 P.M. MONDAY
The early morning brain scan made it official: There would be a funeral.
Gordon sent a mass text: “We are compiling pictures for a slideshow of Daniel. If you would like, send us
your favorite Daniel picture (old school, new school, selfie, group shot, whatever).”
He texted more than 100 people.
“Please send them soon so we can sort them all. And please pass this along to anyone who cares about Daniel.
Thank you.”
Daniel, a vegetarian and an artist, loved “Wreck-It Ralph.” He was the type of person who could do anything
– and always be the best.
And whenever he left the house, he saw people he knew.
From the hospital, Adrienne and a few friends started a slide show, pouring through Facebook, Instagram and
computers looking for pictures.
Between the search and the photos sent by friends, in short order they had more than 1,200 pictures.
Adrienne saw photos in which she didn’t recognize the other people, but her brother looked happy and
dressed up.
“It must have been an important event, so I’m going to put it in there,” she said.
The slide show was set to music – songs his family wanted, as well as Daniel’s top 25 most played on iTunes.
Some were just fun – “Proud Mary or “Getting Jiggy Wit It”–but many–such as “If I Die Young”–were
surprisingly appropriate, Gordon said.
Monday also was the day more and more visitors started to pour in.
Groups of six to eight at a time were allowed into Daniel’s room.
Female friends wailed as they learned Daniel had registered as an organ donor, weeping at the beauty of the
gesture.
Coworkers shared stories of how hardworking he had been.
Other stories Adrienne already knew; the siblings were closer than most.
“There were so many kids in to see him at the hospital.
There was just a revolving door of co-workers, friends, just acquaintances that knew him from the Den,”
Gordon said.
“And they all wanted to see him and pay their respects to him, just hold his hand for a few minutes.” The
visitors filled two waiting rooms, where they sat quietly.
But every once in a while, someone would say something to try to lighten the mood, said John Kao, who
worked with Daniel.
The two had planned to open a Discount Den branch together and had been traveling to scout locations.
Daniel had spent the summer working at the Den, Jake’s Beach House in Monticello and Jake’s Roadhouse to
save the money they needed.
Kao stayed at the hospital on Sunday, but Monday gave him the closure he needed.
By about 6 p.m., Daniel’s family had been at the hospital for nearly a day and a half.
Spann told them surgery wouldn’t occur until the next evening.
He told them it was OK to go home, shower, sleep and come back on Tuesday to say goodbye.
They agreed to go home for the night.
“We wanted to see him as much as we could,” Adrienne said.
1:12 A.M. TUESDAY
Following an early morning echocardiogram, IOPO made the first organ offer.
Using Daniel’s lab results, blood type and demographics including age, race, height and weight, IOPO
plugged in to a national database of patients awaiting transplants to produce a list of eligible recipients.
First offers go to the sickest in Indiana, followed by patients in Ohio and Michigan, and then, if no match is
found, to anyone in the country.
The blood type needs to match, Wadsworth said.
Only about 4 percent of Americans are AB like Daniel.
Other tests continued into the morning hours.
At 11 a.m., a bronchoscopy was conducted to view Daniel’s lungs.
It turned out they had been too severely damaged in the accident to be transplanted.
As offers were made, surgeons called asking questions to see if Daniel might be a match for their patients.
IOPO found matches for Daniel’s kidneys, his liver and his heart.
Surgeons would come from Indianapolis for the kidneys, from Cincinnati for his liver and from Lexington,
Ky., for his heart.
The surgery needed to be planned to the minute.
All the surgeons would be in the operating room together.
Plus, the IU Health Arnett surgery staff and the operating room needed to be available.
As the process continued, the IOPO clinical team continued making calls and checking schedules.
Surgeons summoned patients for pre-transplant testing.
All the while, Daniel lay on life support with two nurses solely dedicated to his care, treated like any other
ICU patient.
A nurse named Kelly Moore brought in her stethoscope so the family could listen to Daniel’s heartbeat.
And Spann offered tangible mementos to remember Daniel, giving the family strength and comfort.
There were locks of his hair, handprints – with fingertips missing because his hands were too big for the
paper– and thumbprints that can be made into charms for jewelry. A memory book was called “The Dash” to
emphasize that the dash, or hyphen, between the dates of birth and death on a gravestone represents the totality
of a person’s life.
“All those little details just made a world of difference,” Gordon said.
Friends came back for a last goodbye.
Some took time to see Daniel alone.
And as Stewart thought about all the friends who visited his son in those last hours, he couldn’t help but hope
that some would decide to become organ donors like Daniel.
“At some point, it’s going to make a difference,” Stewart said.
“I chalk that up to more lives he saved.
He gets credit for those, too.
So the count keeps going on.”
8:35 P.M. TUESDAY
Daniel was wheeled into the operating room with ICU nurses Jennifer Greiner and Moore by his side.
He’d never spoken a word to either of them, but both had spent that Monday and Tuesday with him and had
glimpsed his life through photos and memories.
Greiner tried to keep her emotions separate from her job, but she couldn’t do it with Daniel.
She and Moore stayed past the end of their shift at 6 p.m.
As they were putting on their surgery scrubs, Adrienne said: “Oh, you get to go down with him? I feel like
you know him.” Not 15 minutes before, Mason Farr, a childhood friend of Daniel’s, burst through the door.
He’d flown in from Washington, D.C., just to say goodbye.
“I’m here,” he panted.
Daniel’s family walked with him to the elevators.
There, they said their goodbyes.
Later, Gordon texted Daniel’s friends and told them that Daniel had given the gift of life.
“It makes the fact that he is gone a little easier to cope with,” Gordon said.
“But it’s still so hard to think about the future without him.”
EPILOGUE
Daniel’s surgery began at 9:02 p.m. that Tuesday.
The surgeons from Cincinnati determined that Daniel’s liver was not suitable to be transplanted and returned
to the University of Cincinnati Medical Center without an organ.
Surgeons from the University of Kentucky recovered his heart at 11:33 p.m. and flew back to Lexington,
where Dr. Charles Hoopes, director of the UK Transplant Center, and a recipient were waiting.
Hoopes said the heart needed to be transplanted in four hours or less for the best outcome.
At 11:35 p.m., Dr. Shekhar Kubal and his team recovered Daniel’s kidneys to be transplanted the next day at
IU Health University Hospital in Indianapolis.
Daniel was officially pronounced dead at 1 a.m. Wednesday.
In the weeks since the surgery, Daniel’s family has learned what they can about the recipients.
Daniel’s heart now beats inside the chest of a 42-year-old Kentucky man, who has two daughters, ages 20 and
22.
He is a nurse and attends church.
He left the hospital in excellent condition.
One kidney is with a 71-year-old Indiana man, who is married and has two children.
He had been on the waiting list since June 2012.
He left the hospital in good condition.
The other kidney was transplanted into a 45-year-old Indiana man, who has three children and enjoys his job
as a crane operator. He had been on the waiting list since August 2011.He left the hospital and is doing well.
Daniel’s family hopes to learn more about the people Daniel saved.
The recipients may choose to contact Daniel’s family some day.
But that will be up to them.
“It’s always going to be Daniel’s heart, but he gave it to them and now they, God willing, will have a full life
that maybe wouldn’t have happened if it weren’t for Daniel,” Adrienne said.
IOPO will stay in touch with Daniel’s family, offering support groups and whatever else they may need.
In many ways, the organ donation itself became a form of support for the family, Stewart said.
“The biggest comfort we get is ... he was robbed of those years of his life, (but) someone else is going to get
that,” he said.
“Someone else is going to get his years and be able to live a full life.”
Adrienne kept the watch Daniel was wearing at the time of the accident because, in some ways, time for
Daniel hasn’t really stopped at all.
D5 – Cat. 11
Perfect
Jay Heater, Ted Schultz & Brenda Showalter
The Republic (Columbus)
For Columbus East, it was time to party like it was 1979.
Players cried. Coaches hugged. Fans cheered.
The Olympians are state champions.
Again.
Buoyed by a late touchdown and then its first defensive stop of the second half, top-ranked East pulled out a
28-27 win against Fort Wayne Bishop Dwenger on Saturday in the Class 4A state finals at Lucas Oil Stadium to
finish a perfect 15-0.
The title was the second overall for the Olympians and their first since claiming the 3A football crown in
1979.
“There’s no way to describe it,” senior defensive end Brock Patterson said. “It’s the greatest feeling in the
world. I’ve never had anything that I’ve wanted as bad as this. I’ve worked my whole life for it. The biggest
thing is, I’m glad I could do it for everyone else.”
Patterson was involved in the game-deciding play.
With the Saints trailing by a point and the ball at the East 49, Patterson came up with a sack/strip-fumble of
Dwenger quarterback Mike Fiacable. Saints offensive lineman Nathan Niese picked up the ball and ran to the
37-yard line, but was stripped by East’s Tyler Campbell.
With 39 seconds remaining, the Olympians had the ball – and the game.
East ran out the clock, setting off a wild celebration on the field and in the stands.
“That’s probably one of the finest high school football games that I’ve been involved in,” East coach Bob
Gaddis said. “I’m just happy that a lot of hard work for a lot of people – for our coaches, for our kids – has paid
off. We deserved to be here, and we feel like we deserve to be state champions.”
D5 – Cat. 12
Big Ten revenue
Mike Carmin
Journal & Courier (Lafayette)
One year before BTN launched, the Big Ten Conference distributed about $14 million to each of its 11
schools.
That was 2006-07.
Six years later, that figure has jumped to more than $25 million.
What will Purdue University and other league schools receive during the next four years?
Even more money.
A lot more.
According to documents obtained by the Journal & Courier from Purdue, the Big Ten is expected to distribute
about $26.4 million per school after 2013-14–and more than $35 million at the end of the 2016-17 academic
year.
The robust payouts, which include a projected $30.1 million in 2014-15 and $33.3 million in 2015-16, will be
sent to the core 11 Big Ten schools – minus Nebraska, Rutgers and Maryland.
Nebraska, which started competition in 2011-12, isn’t receiving a full share.
Maryland and Rutgers won’t receive a full slice when they officially become members on July 1.
“Each school has their own customized and independent financial integration plan until the time they receive
full shares,” said Brad Traviolia, deputy commissioner and the league’s treasurer.
“Each will be an equal partner in all things Big Ten at the end of their respective integration period.” Traviolia
wouldn’t reveal when Nebraska, Maryland and Rutgers will receive equal shares.
The Big Ten distributed $14.3 million to Nebraska after its first year in the league, according to the IRS Form
990, provided by the conference.
The current $25.4 million per school leads the nation, ranking ahead of the Big 12 ($22 million for eight
schools; West Virginia and Texas Christian receive $11 million until fully integrated) and Southeastern ($20.7
million for 14 schools).
In the Pac-12, all but Colorado and Utah will receive about $21 million.
The five power conferences (Big Ten, SEC, Atlantic Coast, Pac-12 and Big12) are expected to receive a
revenue boost once the College Football Playoff starts after the 2014 season.
Big-budget schools (Ohio State and Michigan) and smaller athletic programs (Purdue and Indiana) rely
heavily on revenue from the league.
“It’s critical,” Indiana athletic director Fred Glass said.
“We take an even share, so that $25 million that I get probably feels like more money on our $70 million
budget than Michigan and Ohio State, which have double the budgets.
I’m sure they like it, but it’s not as much of a lifeblood as it for us.” At Ohio State, the league’s distribution
accounts for about 18 percent of a $132 million budget, said Pete Hagen, associate athletic director for finance.
At Purdue, it’s roughly 35 percent of a $70 million budget.
“Once upon a time, that figure was closer to 30 percent,” athletic director Morgan Burke said.
“It’s become a bigger share.” Said Hagen: “Because of the size of our budget, we’re dependent on all those
different sources, whether it’s Big Ten distributions, ticket sales, donations or the golf course paying for
themselves.
They’re all critical in making this puzzle fit together.” Schools in the Big Ten share equally in the revenue
generated by television contracts, NCAA distributions, bowl games – including Bowl Championship Series and
the future College Football Playoff format – along with the gate receipts from the league’s men’s basketball
tournament and football championship game.
Even before Jim Delany became commissioner in 1989, the Big Ten shared its revenues equally, Traviolia
said.
The Rose Bowl was the biggest revenue source before television vaulted to the top.
“Even then, the monies were divided equally on the Rose Bowl side,” Traviolia said.
“Television money is new, but the principle hasn’t changed.
The equal revenue sharing has been pretty long-standing.” Ohio State and Michigan are the league’s brand
names and carry more weight nationally, yet they receive roughly the same money as Northwestern, Indiana and
Purdue.
“That’s a credit to folks at Michigan and Ohio State and places like that,” Northwestern athletic director Jim
Phillips said. “That’s a credit to Jim (Delaney). I think he’s tremendous. His fingerprints are on the success of
this league and the culture that’s built.
“ADs and presidents change. You have a different set of faces and different set of people around the room at
different times. Jim has maintained that. That’s the DNA of the league – you come in and you learn that.”
Burke is the dean of Big Ten athletic directors.
When he began in 1993, Burke didn’t fully grasp the concept of sharing revenue.
“I heard the words, but I didn’t understand what it meant,” Burke said. “You can trace the roots all the way
back to 1896, to (Purdue) President (James) Smart, when they founded the league. “You’re going to protect the
brand. That means each of us can have up years and down years, but as a whole you have to protect the brand.
“I hear some of the horror stories from other leagues, where there’s a differential based on the number of TV
appearances and other criteria. We have not had to face that. I don’t see anybody in this league, president or
athletic director, new or old, challenging or saying it’s a bad principle.”
In the Big 12, 50 percent of the revenue is divided equally among schools, and 50 percent is distributed based
on the number of television appearances.
The system favors games featuring Oklahoma and Texas, which are more attractive to television.
The Big Ten’s system has allowed conference schools to upgrade and build facilities, increase pay for coaches
and fund athletic programs.
Ohio State has 36 varsity sports.
“Without the Big Ten money, we wouldn’t be able to fund the program as we currently fund it,” Hagen said.
“It gets more and more difficult each year to fund 36 varsity sports.
We would probably have to impose some (scholarship) restrictions on some of the Olympic sports, whereas
now they’re funded to the max allowed by the NCAA.
It would have a dramatic effect on the size of the coaching staff, as well as support staff in different areas.”
Without money from the league, Purdue’s $100 million Mackey Arena renovation couldn’t have been
completed under its current time frame, baseball’s Alexander Field wouldn’t exist, the football practice fields
wouldn’t be in place and the planned $13 million softball stadium would be a long-range dream.
Those projects would take 10 more years, Burke estimated, especially given the recent Great Recession.
He said the athletic department will have spent about $125 million in construction costs after the softball
stadium opens in 2015.
The increase in distributions from the Big Ten allowed Burke to accelerate facility upgrades, build reserves
that help with major maintenance projects and establish a fund for the debt service.
“You couldn’t have undertaken Mackey if you only raised $33 million in private giving,” he said.
“We would’ve been on the drawing board and not out to harbor with Mackey, let alone the other projects
we’ve been able to accomplish.
To me, it came at the right time.” Purdue’s athletic department doesn’t keep all of its revenue.
A percentage is sent to the university for annual administrative overhead in addition to transfers.
In 2012-13, that figure was $3.66 million.
The athletic department also is transferring $12 million over six years to fund the new Center for Student
Excellence and Leadership, an agreement forged by former President France A. Córdova.
The athletic department has sent nearly $1.7 million to date.
Indiana has made similar facility upgrades.
New baseball and softball stadiums that cost nearly $20 million opened last school year.
“We’ve made investments in those facilities,” Glass, the AD, said, “and frankly, we’ve made the investments
in our people, too, in our coaching staff, that would not be possible without the Big Ten Network.” In 2012, the
network – which is owned by the league and Fox Cable Networks – generated a profit share for the first time,
meaning all startup costs had been recouped.
Those shares were scheduled to be distributed to conference members, but Burke said the league is shifting
the money elsewhere for now.
“Turns out they’re going to need that money in the short term for Maryland and Rutgers,” he said.
“That money got embargoed.” The network will continue to grow, especially with Maryland and Rutgers
pulling in more of the populated East Coast market.
That means more money for conference members, especially with a new television contract on the horizon
during 2017-18.
In 2006, the Big Ten signed a 10-year, $1 billion deal with CBS and ABC/ESPN for firsttier rights and a
separate 25- year agreement with BTN.
The Big Ten’s deal with Fox to broadcast the football championship game started in 2011and ends in 2015.
Projections are just that, but the aforementioned $35 million per-school figure may pale in comparison to what
each school will receive once the league’s next television contract is finalized.
“The ‘16-’17 year is an important mark because that coincides with the end of our current television
agreement with CBS, Fox and ESPN,” Traviolia said.
“Those numbers are very accurate, and we wouldn’t expect any significant variance from those.
Going forward, how we do in the next round of television negotiations will determine where those numbers
go.”
D5 – Cat. 13
Pasadena dreamin’
Andy Graham
The Herald-Times (Bloomington)
The primary symptom of rare seasonal malady Indianensis Augustitis, if regular readers will recall, is
irrational optimism regarding Indiana football.
Symptoms normally peak during late summer weeks.
My brother-in-law Mark, as the phrase goes, “has got it bad.” He’s the guy who just emailed me a bird’s-eye
photo of an empty Rose Bowl stadium with this accompanying message: “Just imagine a big red & white
INDIANA painted across the end zone!” One can imagine it.
Especially if exposed to hallucinogens.
Not that crazier notions haven’t afflicted long-suffering humankind.
I mean, at one point, somebody actually thought people would pay over a buck apiece for little bottles of
water.
Of water! You know, the stuff that comes out of the tap for free! Oh, wait … Anyhow, it seems Mark needs
treatment.
But the only known cure is to have sufferers watch Indiana football seasons unfold.
Normally at some juncture, often early in a given campaign, the fever breaks.
So to speak.
How early might Mark be cured this fall? Well, let’s just see, shall we?
• Indiana State, Aug. 29: The Trees played IU within a TD at Memorial Stadium last fall and return terrific
tailback Shakir Bell, who gouged the Hoosiers for 192 yards in 24 carries.
And season openers are always potentially squirrelly.
However, ISU is breaking in a new coaching staff and this is an improved Hoosier club.
The hosts win and, since the game is on a Thursday night, have a couple of extra days to prepare for …
• Navy, Sept. 7: The Hoosiers should have won at Annapolis last October, leading by nine with six minutes
left.
IU has done plenty of prep work for Navy’s unusual “flexbone” offense over the past couple of years.
And Indiana will have made the customary leap any club has from its opener to its second game, while this is
the Middies’ opener.
IU will dedicate the prow of the U.S.S.
Indiana as a permanent fixture at Memorial Stadium.
And the Hoosiers will properly honor the Navy with ceremonial salutes.
Then torpedo its football team.
• Bowling Green, Sept. 15: The Falcons are a popular pick to win the Mid-American Conference East.
And these Hoosiers need no reminders about how potent good MAC teams are, having been burned three
straight times by Ball State – including a dramatic 41-39 game last season in which BSU made a series of heroic
plays down the stretch and the Hoosiers, quite frankly, got hosed by the refs.
Expect IU to extract a measure of revenge against one of Ball State’s brethren in a close one.
• Missouri, Sept. 21: Mizzou lost a stud tailback to a knee injury before its first SEC season began last fall,
and quarterback James Franklin played hurt as the Tigers finished 5-7.
This is a talented club, well-coached by Gary Pinkel, and has had its “Southern Baptism” of football fire.
But this marks the Tigers’ first road trip after a couple of easy home dates and they’re not quite fully ready for
the Hoosiers.
IU ekes out a nip and tuck win in a shootout, then has two weeks to prepare for the Big Ten opener …
• Penn State, Oct. 5: The Hoosiers are 0-for-forever against the Nittanys, having failed to make Happy Valley
unhappy 16 straight times.
PSU’s Bill O’Brien earned 2012 Big Ten Coach of the Year honors in his league debut.
And his front-line starters are formidable.
But the scandal-related scholarship reductions start to bite this fall, and he has to hope the injury bug doesn’t
bite any further.
He’ll have a rookie quarterback at the helm.
Indiana will have a full house awaiting, buoyed by the 4-0 start and with two weeks to get pumped.
The Rock will be rocking.
PSU won’t post quite enough points.
So Indiana starts 5-0? (Mark is going to be a basket case.)
• At Michigan State, Oct. 12: Indiana’s first road trip is to Spartan Stadium, a real house of Hoosier horrors
over the years.
But while MSU might again have the league’s best defense, this remains an offensively-challenged Spartan
squad along the lines of the one fortunate to escape IU with a 31-27 win after trailing 27-14 at halftime last fall.
This time, the Spartans can’t quite rally.
• At Michigan, Oct. 19: The Hoosiers harbor huge momentum heading into the Big House, but Michigan,
which hasn’t seen IU in Ann Arbor since the infamous 36-33 Bill Lynch Chewing Gum Game in 2009, doesn’t
take the Hoosiers quite seriously enough until it’s too late.
Michigan’s defense hasn’t dealt directly with IU’s version of the spread before and struggles.
The Wolverines join their 110,00 fans watching in stunned silence as Indiana freshman Laray Smith supplies
the game-clinching kickoff return midway through the fourth.
Hmmmm.
IU now has the nation’s full attention, a 7-0 record and two weeks to prepare for …
• Minnesota (Homecoming), Nov. 2: Coach Jerry Kill, like IU’s Kevin Wilson in his third year of a
rebuilding project, got Minnesota to a bowl last year and has done an admirable job.
And quarterback Philip Nelson really came on as a freshman last fall.
But this is just too tall an order for the Gilded Rodentia, who end up road (not Jerry) kill because they simply
can’t score at Indiana’s pace.
• Illinois, Nov. 9: Fans back in Champaign are really after coach Tim Beckman’s scalp by this time, and his
struggling Illini leave Bloomington without theirs.
• At Wisconsin, Nov. 16: The big, bad, bogeyman Badgers of IU nightmares are themselves haunted by the
bloated shade of Bret Bielema.
Wisconsin fans who rolled out the barrel a bit too early are unfairly on new coach Gary Andersen’s case, and
this outing just makes things worse.
As in 2001 – when Antwaan Randle El led a Hoosier team into Camp Randall after having watched IU sustain
a 59-0 thrashing there just two years earlier – Indiana comes out hitting on all cylinders and never relents.
Payback never tasted so sweet for giddy Hoosier players, coaches and fans.
10-0.
“Fake Coach Wilson” renames his celebrated Twitter account “Fake Messiah.”
• At Ohio State, Nov. 23: The scores of IU’s last two games against the Buckeyes are both a bit misleading.
The Hoosiers were threatening to take the lead on a fourth-quarter drive into OSU territory at The Horseshoe
in 2011 when true freshman quarterback Tre Roberson threw a pick that set up an easy OSU TD, and the game
ended up a 34-20 Ohio State win.
Last year at Memorial Stadium, the Buckeyes led by at least two scores most of the way before a successful
onside kick and other neversay- die stuff brought Indiana within 52-49 at the end.
OSU still has issues trying to stop Indiana’s offense, but the No.
2-ranked Buckeyes find a way to prevail at home.
So IU takes a 10-1 record into …
• Purdue, Nov. 30: Purdue.
Now it’s Purdue in rebuilding mode with a first-year coach, trying to deal with a transcendent Hoosier team
that is in no mood to show mercy.
Despite frigid temperatures, Fred Glass still isn’t wearing socks as a howling Crimson-clad throng packs the
place and joyously watches Indiana pound Purdue into the frozen field-turf tundra.
Kevin Wilson takes the Old Oaken Bucket home, fills it with beer, and imbibes.
• Big Ten championship game, Dec. 7: Ohio State, the Leaders Division champ, nips Michigan for the second
straight week in the Big Ten title game and heads off to face Alabama in the final BCS National Championship
Game.
Then a certain committee is faced with a choice.
Does it select Michigan, the Legends Division champ that just fell twice to OSU, to play Oregon? Or does the
committee quickly and happily bow to popular sentiment and pick the nation’s favorite underdog, the team that
knocked off UM in Ann Arbor in that thriller back on Oct.
19 … Yourrrrrrr Ind-i-ana Hooooooooooossssiiiiieeeerrrrrrrrrrrrrs! Rose Bowl! Rose Bowl!! Rose Bowl!!!
Paint that Pasadena end zone in gorgeous crimson and cream! And ...
and ...
and ...
Egad! Holy John Pont! I’ve got it, too, don’t I? And I’ve got it bad.
Mark’s email must have contained the virus! Goodness gracious, I’m gobsmacked.
Insane.
Delusional.
Got to calm down.
Got to find my way back to that 7-5 IU season prediction I was going to make when this column began.
Got to start making the case in reverse … For us Indianensis Augustitis sufferers, kickoff can’t come soon
enough.