I took a special interest in Thursday's front page story about a review of Georgia's prison medical care, prompted by an Atlanta Journal-Constitution investigation.
It illustrated a pattern that is unfortunately too typical in our investigative reporting: We dig into problems and the government stalls and avoids our questions. We dig more and the government says we are wrong or minimizes the problems or just ignores us. We keep digging and revealing more to readers, who become increasingly concerned. After some time, the government commissions some kind of review of the situation, or an outside agency like law enforcement begins looking into it. And, lo and behold, it is ultimately determined that what we’ve been reporting was true all along.
It happened in the Atlanta Public Schools’ cheating case, though that took years and a 10-month trial to get to the truth. It happened in DeKalb County, where corruption sent the CEO and a county commissioner to jail. It happened in our investigation into a backlog of applications for medical care at the Veterans’ Administration Health Eligibility Center in Atlanta.
And it happened in investigative reporter Danny Robbins’ months-long examination of abysmal medical care for women in Georgia prisons.
Robbins found that for nearly a decade, a succession of inmates at women's prisons in Georgia suffered agonizing deaths, some going months before receiving treatment that might have saved or prolonged their lives. At least nine women had died under questionable circumstances in nine years under the care of Dr. Yvon Nazaire at Emanuel Women's Facility and Pulaski State Prison, 80 miles apart in South Georgia. His reporting raised questions about whether Nazaire should have ever served as medical director and why he repeatedly received positive performance reviews while complaints were building.
Which brings us to Thursday's front-page story. It detailed a report, commissioned by Georgia Correctional Health Care and conducted by a physician at Augusta University, that concluded Nazaire provided substandard medical care. Overall, the report said, womens' care is not where it needs to be. The review recommended changes in the prison medical system for women, including better oversight of medical personnel, improved vetting of physicians and a more extensive process for mortality reviews.
While it's gratifying that the review may improve the lives of women in prison going forward, it certainly has the feel of a barn door closing late. Nazaire was placed on administrative review in July, four months after Danny's first reporting, and was fired in September after officials confirmed an AJC report that he misrepresented his work history when he applied for the role of medical director.
Even more heartbreaking, complaints about Nazaire from patients, their families and other medical personnel went unheeded for years and were never included in his personnel file.
It took the work of a meticulous and sensitive reporter to stitch those complaints into a picture of widespread problems. Danny traveled the state many times, pored over thousands of pages of documents, and interviewed inmates and families about illness and death of loved ones. He confronted Dr. Nazaire with tough questions. He examined the work of Georgia Correctional Health Care, which is paid $170 million a year by the Department of Corrections to staff and operate medical units. And he had the door shut in his face often by the Department of Corrections, which repeatedly declined to answer specific questions about Nazaire or prison medical care.
This is the work investigative reporters do. They are driven to reveal things others would rather sweep under the rug, to right wrongs. They encounter tremendous pushback and what distinguishes them is their persistence in pursuit of truth.
This is the work your newspaper supports, because we know you value it. Investigative reporting isn’t cheap, and it’s not easy. It’s rarely as well-read as a major football championship or big breaking news story. And sympathetic reporting on groups like state prisoners can stir some readers’ ire. But we do it because it’s our duty to serve our community, to protect vulnerable citizens, and to point out problems that would never come to light without us.
Consider the feedback Danny received from some readers.
“I just read your article on inmates dying at one of Georgia’s largest women’s prisons under the care of, what must be, one of the most incompetent physicians I have ever heard of or read about … People like you have the great opportunity to drive awareness about issues like this. It is up to the readers to support your efforts by taking action.”
“Without proper and honest checks and balances in all things, the State of Georgia continues to take many backward steps. We have been playing catchup for as long as I remember.
Appreciate your articles.”
And from the mother of a prisoner who died under Nazaire’s care and was interviewed by Robbins: “You are a blessing to me … Maybe now I can get a good night’s rest and peace of mind. Thank God, thank you for being you and caring.”
Caring enough to stay with a story that otherwise would not be told, and to reveal problems that without that reporting would not be fixed.
Danny and other investigative reporters are blessing to all of us.
