Work-release center staff accused of taking bribes, having sex

Seattle police search three people after their arrest in a park across the street from the Reynolds Work Release center on Fourth Avenue. Having the center close to the park, known as a drug-dealing hot spot, poses undeniable challenges, say corrections officials.


Saturday, February 24, 2007
Work-release center staff accused of taking bribes, having sex
Three contract employees at Seattle site fired
By CLAUDIA ROWE
P-I REPORTER
A half-dozen employees of a prison work-release center in Seattle are under investigation as state corrections officials look into allegations that staffers had sex with resident offenders, took bribes and falsified drug tests that could have sent felons back to prison.
An early morning raid at the Reynolds Work Release site last month uncovered cocaine, $3,600 stashed in a resident's room (though inmates are authorized to hold no more than $60) and four prisoner cell phones -- all prohibited -- at least one of which contained personal phone numbers for several staff members.


As a result of the Jan. 6 search by the Department of Corrections -- which involved drug-sniffing dogs, more than a dozen investigators and drug tests for all of the 82 offenders on site -- five inmates are back behind bars, three employees have been fired and three others resigned.
"We are aggressively investigating the situation at Reynolds," said Gary Larson, a spokesman for the Corrections Department. "The results will be turned over to local law enforcement for whatever action they think is appropriate."
All of the drug screenings came back negative, he added.
An internal Corrections Department report is pending -- and could come out just as Gov. Chris Gregoire receives results from an inquiry into circumstances that allowed three felons under state supervision to be involved in clashes last year that killed two Seattle police officers and a King County deputy.
Sitting across Fourth Avenue from the King County Courthouse, the 100-bed Reynolds work-release program houses men serving their final six months of prison time. It is a joint operation, where state corrections employees do inmate case management while workers from Pioneer Human Services handle security, food service and administrative duties -- including urinalysis drug tests, commonly known as UAs.
All of the fired Reynolds workers, as well as those who resigned, were contract staff employed by Pioneer, a private non-profit. Most were entry-level program managers and for months, one former Reynolds resident said, they let offenders bend the rules.
"Guys were bringing alcohol and drugs in, driving cars when they're not supposed to, having cell phones -- whatever they could do, they were doing," said Daryn Hayner, who lived at Reynolds until January when he was arrested at his Jiffy Lube job in Ballard and transferred back to the McNeil Island Corrections Center to complete a robbery sentence.
Reynolds officials said Hayner had "threatened the safety and security of the facility" and that his transfer was unrelated to the current investigation.
No prisoner at Reynolds -- or any other work release site -- is allowed to have a cell phone. But that regulation was among many that were ignored, Hayner said.
"There was a bunch of stuff going down," the 22-year-old said in a telephone interview from prison. "If you paid them $50, they would lose your UA papers, and then you'd get a few extra days to clear your system. The whole time I was there, there were people coming in with alcohol on their breath. Further, he said, staffers would warn inmates of secretly scheduled drug searches -- perhaps contributing to the unusual dearth of resident infractions that corrections officers were beginning to notice.

It had grown too quiet, said Xandis Phillips, supervisor at Reynolds for the last 10 years. "It just raised a red flag."
In late December, someone describing himself as an inmate mailed an anonymous tip to Phillips, suggesting that she check into drug testing at the facility.
"We received a letter stating that there was favoritism going on and we should be checking UAs," Phillips said. "That started the investigation, and we kind of cleaned house a little bit, got rid of staffs that were allegedly trying to make money off the residents or be friends with them -- whatever they were trying to do."
Her suspicions dovetailed with worries that Pioneer officials were beginning to have about employees at their nationally accredited work-release site. A female worker, they discovered, had given fraudulent reasons for requesting a leave of absence. Though Larry Fehr, senior vice president for corrections and re-entry services for Pioneer, declined to elaborate, he said that further questioning of the woman "led to the most comprehensive search of any work-release facility that I'm aware of."
Department of Corrections investigators are still evaluating the extent of employee-inmate relations at Reynolds and, if warranted, will pass their findings on to Seattle police.
"The department has a zero-tolerance policy for sexual misconduct," Larson said.
It is not unusual to have women working in a corrections facility for men, but Washington state law and federal passage of a national Prison Rape Elimination Act in 2003 has made guard-inmate relations a felony.
Fehr said there were no plans to change employment practices at Reynolds as a result of the current situation. The problem, he insisted, was with individuals, not the system itself.
"If there are rotten apples in the barrel, they've got to be taken out," he said. "It doesn't necessarily mean the apple barrel is dysfunctional. It means people need to be held accountable for their actions, which is what we've done. It is individuals who have failed and once it was uncovered, decisive action was taken."
Last Wednesday afternoon at Reynolds, there was no sign of the recent upheaval. Inmates played pool or dominoes before dinner. A few dozed on bunk beds, their mini televisions droning in the background. The only working computer, intended to help residents write resumes or employment letters, sat vacant.
During the day, most offenders at Reynolds work at menial jobs -- dishwashing at Hooters, helping with oil changes at Jiffy Lube -- returning to the century-old dorm-style building at night. Rules mandate a breath test for alcohol detection every time a resident enters, as well as random drug tests.
But the program's location, across the street from a park known as a drug-dealing hot spot, creates undeniable challenges, corrections officers acknowledged.
Nor is this the first time Seattle-based Pioneer -- which gets about $1 million annually to operate Reynolds for the state -- has come under scrutiny.
Several years ago, three of its contract staffers were fired for improperly allowing inmates to leave Reynolds without signed passes. And in 2005, federal authorities investigated another Pioneer-run halfway house on First Hill after allegations that Seattle Seahawks safety Ken Hamlin was severely injured by a resident who had bribed an employee to let him out at night.
"When you're dealing with people you're not going to have 100 percent perfection," Fehr said, "not with police officers or prosecutors or judges or journalists."