Whistleblowers end up lonesome

By T. Shawn Taylor, Business Reporter
Orlando Sentinel Online August 18, 2002

The accounting misdeeds that led to the collapse of corporate giants such as Enron, Arthur Andersen and WorldCom -- and resulted in thousands of workers losing their jobs -- left many wondering: "Why didn't someone blow the whistle on these dishonest practices sooner?" Frederic Whitehurst, who as an FBI forensic scientist blew the whistle on evidence tampering and false testimony within the FBI's crime laboratory, thinks he knows the answer. "When you do what they call blowing the whistle in this country, they pull your guts out about 30 yards down the road and stomp on [them]," said Whitehurst, who now lives in Bethel, N.C., a tiny town with one stoplight and one former law-enforcement officer who blew his career on the truth.

Exposing gross misconduct in the workplace almost always has a price, whistleblower advocates say. Punishments range from being shunned by colleagues to termination to blacklisting.  Whistleblowers have become victims of smear campaigns. Friends and family may distance themselves; some marriages don't survive the ordeal.

Today, whistleblowers have the best legal protections ever, advocates say, but it typically takes a scandal to inspire Congress to act. Corporate accountability legislation signed by President Bush in July extended employees of publicly traded companies -- such as WorldCom -- federal protection from retaliation by employers.

"We're thrilled about the legislation," said Louis Clark, executive director of the Government Accountability Project, a whistleblower watchdog group in Washington. "I would say right now that employees of publicly traded companies have the best protection of any other employees right now."

But Congress has yet to pass a uniform whistleblower law that shields all workers equally. Employees of companies that are not publicly traded still have no federal protection, said Steve Kohn, a Washington attorney who represents whistleblowers.

"Protections depend on where you live and the industry you're blowing the whistle on," said Kohn, who said some states, including Illinois, have decent whistleblower laws. However, attorneys for employers have successfully argued that federal law supersedes the state's or have forced disputes into arbitration.

Kohn said he is not surprised that no one came forward to expose the accounting missteps at companies recently toppled by scandal. "Everyone involved in the securities industry and trading knew if they complained about what companies were reporting, there was no protection," said Kohn, who in 1988 founded the Washington-based National Whistleblower Center. "It caused a major chilling effect."

Another deterrent may be films about famous whistleblowers that effectively depict their shattered lives. For instance, The Insider, about Jeffrey Wigand, the tobacco company researcher who exposed his employer on 60 Minutes for lying about the dangers of smoking, takes the viewer through Wigand's job loss, financial troubles and marital separation.

Despite progress on the legal front, blowing the whistle remains risky business. Whistleblower advocates say retaliation doesn't always occur, but the whistleblower should anticipate it. "The whistleblower will get hammered no matter what the protections," said Kris Kolesnik, executive director of the National Whistleblower Center, which has lobbied successfully for better legal protections for whistleblowers. Kolesnik cautioned that even employers who appear grateful for the disclosures may be plotting to get rid of the whistleblower.

At the minimum, whistleblowers should expect to lose their jobs, advocates say. Whitehurst, 54, who sued the FBI and agreed to retire in 1998 as part of a settlement, wanted to continue working at the agency. But the FBI would rather pay Whitehurst his full salary for the rest of his life to stay at home.

"It's the end of their life as they know it," Whitehurst said of whistleblowers like himself. "Whether they succeed or fail, they can never be allowed back in that family that they exposed."  Randy Robarge, a former radiation protection supervisor at Com Ed's nuclear power plant in Zion, Ill., has been unable to land a job in the nuclear power industry since he blew the whistle in 1996 on alleged procedural violations he feared could lead to a catastrophic event.  "I was doing my job. Under no circumstances did I think I was a whistleblower," he said.  The plant was fined after Robarge reported radioactive material found on a lunch table. When he was told by his department head to skirt reporting procedures, he refused and was fired, he said.  Whistleblowers in the nuclear power industry are protected under the Energy Reorganization Act. Robarge sued Com Ed and won a settlement. But now, he's an untouchable. A separate lawsuit accusing Com Ed of breaching the original settlement and blacklisting Robarge is pending, said Kohn, his attorney.

"Am I going to have to carry this my whole life? I never want to go through something like this again, and I hope I don't have to," he said.

Robarge said his wife and family have stood by him 100 percent. But Keith Schooley's 13- year marriage didn't survive his whistleblowing activities at Merrill Lynch in 1992. Schooley, a financial consultant on the fast track at the Enid, Okla., office, was fired after he took allegations of cheating and fraud all the way to the board of directors. He recently published a book about his ordeal, Merrill Lynch: The Cost Could Be Fatal (Lakepointe Publishing, 2002, $27.95).

"I ended up going through a divorce in 1994. You can't blame others for it. Nevertheless, I have no doubt if Merrill Lynch hadn't taken place, the marriage and family would be intact today," said Schooley, who is independently employed in the oil and gas business.
Schooley said he couldn't stand by and watch unethical behavior. He played it by the book. "The only thing I made the mistake on was trusting the company to take the appropriate action," he said.

Joyce Rothschild, a professor of sociology at Virginia Polytechnic Institute and State University, who said she has interviewed 300 whistleblowers as part of a study, said many are "organizationally naïve." "They did not set out to say, 'Risks be damned. I don't care.' They felt somebody up there wants to know this and will thank me because it will improve the organization," Rothschild said.

Depression is common, said Don Soeken, who runs a retreat for whistleblowers called the Whistlestop in White Sulfer Springs, W.Va. He also operates a whistleblower hotline called Integrity International.

A two-time whistleblower, Soeken said if someone came to him before they blew the whistle, he would advise them not to. But most, like himself, would not only blow the whistle once, they would to it again and again.

He added: "They're more concerned with trust and honesty than their own health and safety. 'I did the right thing. I can sleep at night. My conscience is clear.' "

Orlando Sentinel Online 18 August 2002