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From LA Times

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Motorcycle safety study is underway in Los Angeles

The $3.1-million study, being conducted by Oklahoma State University researchers, is looking at why crash deaths have soared in the last decade. Some say the sample size of 300 crashes is too small.

By Susan Carpenter

October 18, 2009

The first major study of motorcycle crashes in nearly 30 years is underway in Los Angeles, as researchers attempt to pinpoint why resultant fatalities have soared over the last decade to constitute 14% of all roadway deaths, despite the fact that motorcycles account for less than 1% of vehicle miles traveled.

There are plenty of theories to explain the increase: The number of motorcycles on the road rose from 3.9 million in 1998 to 7.1 million in 2007; motorcycles are more powerful than they used to be; riders are older, now averaging 41 years of age; and many states have repealed their helmet laws.

But there are no clear answers.

The last in-depth investigation of motorcycle crashes in the United States -- the Hurt study -- was conducted through USC and released in 1981. Efforts to update that information have been stymied by funding issues.

Earlier this month, a new study was greenlighted by the U.S. Department of Transportation, but it's a scaled-down version of what was originally planned, and a leading industry-backed safety group says the sample size will be too small to properly resolve the questions.

The National Transportation Safety Board originally recommended that the study include a sample size of 900 to 1,200 crashes. The Hurt study examined 900 crashes. But researchers at Oklahoma State University, tapped to conduct the new study, said use of such a large sample would cost $10 million to $12 million, far exceeding the federal government's $4.2-million estimate.

As of Oct. 1, the study was moving forward with a sample size of 300 crashes.

"The motorcycle crash rate for injuries and deaths has increased every year for the past 10 years, so it was critical to get this study underway," said Cathy St. Denis, spokeswoman for the Federal Highway Administration. "It will be one of the most comprehensive studies to be done in years and will help prevent future crashes."

The $3.1-million study includes $2 million from the highway reauthorization bill, $500,000 from the National Highway Traffic and Safety Administration, $500,000 from individual states and $100,000 from the American Motorcyclist Assn.

The Motorcycle Safety Foundation, a nonprofit group that develops rider training courses used by most states and is funded by major manufacturers such as Honda and Harley-Davidson, had offered $2.8 million in 2007 for a study if it included a sample size of 900 crashes.

The group refused to contribute to the scaled-down study because it "will not provide adequate sampling to achieve appropriate statistical significance and may not provide new insights," the organization said in a statement last week. "This limited study will likely lend only a minimal degree of validation to the major, already known contributing motorcycle crash factors."

There are about 100,000 motorcycle crashes in the United States each year, 5,290 of which resulted in death in 2008, according to the National Highway Traffic Safety Administration. According to the Motorcycle Safety Foundation, which draws heavily on findings from the 1981 Hurt study, major crash factors include alcohol involvement and rider error, such as over-braking and running wide in a curve.

So far, data from 53 crashes have been gathered as part of the study's pilot, which kicked off in Los Angeles last December to test data collection procedures and which concluded earlier this year. That crash data will be included in the official study of 300 crashes, which is also taking place in L.A.

Preliminary results from the study will be available in a year.

http://www.latimes.com/news/local/la-me-motorcycle-safety18-2009oct18,0,3911739,print.story

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Domestic-abuse victim says she was evicted for reporting crime

An Illinois woman's case reflects a growing concern that the federal Violence Against Women Act appears to leave out abuse victims who rent in the private market.

By Sara Olkon

October 18, 2009

Reporting from Chicago

Kathy Cleaves-Milan called police to report that her live-in boyfriend had brandished a gun and vowed to end both of their lives. Within days, her apartment managers served her with eviction papers for violating the terms of the lease, citing the criminal activity she had reported.

"I was punished for protecting myself and my daughter," Cleaves-Milan, 36, said. Her attorneys filed a lawsuit this month arguing that her 2007 eviction was a form of sex discrimination.

A representative of Aimco, the company that owned and operated the apartment complex, said the eviction wasn't solely about the domestic violence but also involved Cleaves-Milan's ability to afford the rent if her boyfriend moved out -- an assertion she strongly rejected.

The case reflects a growing concern among women's rights advocates that greater legal protection is needed for victims of domestic violence who rent in the private market. Under the federal Violence Against Women Act of 2005, victims who live in public or subsidized housing are protected from eviction because of actual or threatened violence. But the law is hazier when it comes to private landlords. Advocates say a lack of clear protection creates a disincentive for abused women to seek help.

"It forces women into a situation where they have to choose between reaching out for safety or staying in their homes," said Sandra Park, a staff attorney with the American Civil Liberties Union's Women's Rights Project.

Police in Elmhurst, Ill., went to Elm Creek Apartments early on the morning of Sept. 30, 2007, after Cleaves- Milan reported that her boyfriend had threatened her. That day, Cleaves-Milan had a conversation with a leasing agent at the building about the incident, according to the lawsuit. She said the leasing agent arranged for her to rent a storage unit so she could move her estranged boyfriend's possessions out of her home.

On Oct. 2, Cleaves-Milan -- who had obtained a protective court order -- was told she could remain in the apartment with her daughter as long as she had proof of income, according to the lawsuit.

The next day, two days after her rent had been due, Cleaves-Milan said, she went to the bank to get a cashier's check for the rent and for the storage unit. When she called the leasing office to find out the total amount due, she said, she was told she was no longer welcome at the complex. Corporate officials had ruled her in violation of her lease because of the recent crime in her apartment.

"As the safety of our residents is our top priority, we have a zero-tolerance policy for any criminal activity at our communities," Aimco spokeswoman Cindy Duffy said.

At the apartment, a 10-day eviction notice signed by an Elm Creek official was taped to Cleaves-Milan's door. She said she and her daughter moved out Oct. 6, 2007.

Duffy said recently that Cleaves-Milan could have stayed longer if she had chosen to fight the eviction.

But ultimately, she said, the company's policy was clear: "If there is an arrest or a violation, all of the occupants on that lease are subject to eviction," she said.

"The basis for that eviction was the fact the violence had occurred," Duffy said.

She maintained that Cleaves-Milan left the complex because she could not afford to remain there without her boyfriend's financial support, adding that the staff tried to find her a less-expensive unit in the complex. "It certainly wasn't our attempt to penalize her in any way for her situation," Duffy said.

Cleaves-Milan, who worked in medical equipment sales, said Duffy's response about income being a factor was "simply untrue." "My reason for being evicted was there was gun violence in my home," she said.


Kate Walz, one of the attorneys representing Cleaves- Milan, said policies that punish victims of domestic violence lend credence to the still-common assumption that victims encourage the abuse.

"She did everything right," Walz said, referring to the call for help and subsequent petition for an order of protection.

Cleaves-Milan's is one of a small number of private tenancy cases involving domestic violence that have made their way into the court system, said Maya Raghu, senior staff attorney at Legal Momentum, formerly the NOW Legal Defense and Education Fund.

In 1985, New York passed a law making it illegal for a landlord to refuse to rent to a victim of domestic violence. Other states began to follow suit with similar statutes designed to safeguard the economic status of abuse victims.

In Illinois, the 2007 Safe Homes Act permits a domestic-abuse victim to terminate a lease early or request a lock change. An amendment to the Illinois Human Rights Act that goes into effect next year will prohibit discrimination against a person who has obtained an order of protection.

In other states, including Minnesota and Colorado, laws prohibit a landlord from evicting a victim of domestic abuse because he or she has called the police.

Cleaves-Milan, for one, said it had never occurred to her that a call to the police could send her packing. She said she hopes her case raises awareness for other victims. She also wants to inspire her daughter, "so she sees you must stand up."

http://www.latimes.com/news/nationworld/nation/la-na-domestic-violence18-2009oct18,0,4100145,print.story

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Sending them away -- for their own good

In a gang-plagued immigrant neighborhood, four children have in effect been banished by their family to another city -- not because of what they've done, but because of what they've seen.

By Scott Gold

October 18, 2009

On a recent Sunday morning, Brian Barajas, a mop-topped 8-year-old, stashed his bike against the wall and raced inside a tired little house, ducking under two withered fruit trees. The house was so close to the tracks you could hear the engineer call out the stops when the train went by. A police helicopter was overhead, just down the street, as sure a sign as any that the day was underway.

This is a forgotten corner of South Los Angeles, an immigrant neighborhood hemmed in by warehouses and gangs. There are no Scout troops here, no T-ball teams. So on Sundays, Brian's aunt, Adela, gathers a bunch of kids in the house where four generations of her family have lived, just to talk.

She is equal parts counselor, preacher and interrogator. On this morning, she wanted to talk about fear.

"What are you afraid of?" she asked, pacing under a painting of "The Last Supper." Ten kids stared back with varying degrees of indifference. After some coaxing, they began to reveal their anxieties: Fitting in. Money. Math.

Adela turned to her nephew.

"Brian?"

He shrugged.

"What are you afraid of?"

He smiled, all dimples.

"Getting killed."

Sporadic visits

There are four Barajas siblings: Brian, friendly and puckish; Michael, 15, bright and finicky; Denise, 17, pretty and shy; Joey, 19, stoic and thoughtful. They grew up in this house too -- playing football out front, walking to the swap meet to buy water pistols. But it is not their house anymore; they come here now only to visit, and only sporadically.

They have been exiled, in effect, from South L.A. -- banished by their family not because of what they've done, but because of what they've seen.

Their mother, Laura Sanchez, was just 17 when she married into the family. In 1990, she married Adela's brother, Chino, and moved into the Barajas' homestead on Long Beach Avenue.

She'd grown up right around the corner, off East Vernon, but she was not like them. The Barajas clan was big, boisterous, tight-knit. Laura was an only child. She never knew her father. She had just a handful of people in her family; most were alcoholics and addicts.

Laura dived into her new life and assumed a matriarchal role. She became the family event planner -- Christmas, birthdays. She learned the Barajas family recipes, mastering carne asada , which she made for everyone on weekends.

"I considered her a sister," said Adela, 44. "She just had some sort of patience the rest of us didn't have, with babies, with cooking, with family. Any time of day, if you were hungry, she'd have something ready to eat. If you were cold, she had coffee ready. Anything."

The troubles started in 1998, on Thanksgiving. Somehow, they'd wedged three tables into the tiny front room of the Long Beach Avenue house. It was 6 p.m. They were all stuffed.

A couple of the neighborhood characters were out front -- harmless drunks. Laura was in the kitchen preparing them a plate of leftovers.

"That's when we heard the shots," Adela said.

Blocks away, off Compton Avenue, Laura's mother, Irene Cruz, was in front of her house, smoking a cigarette. Gang members got into a dispute, and a stray bullet struck her in the head.

For months, Irene held on. On her birthday, Laura even hired a mariachi band to come into her recovery room. But her organs began to fail. Irene died the next winter.

Laura, Adela said, felt terribly alone.

"She kept saying: 'I don't have any family,' " Adela said. "We told her: 'We are your family. We are your backbone.' "

A way of life

The Barajas house rests on a seam between a number of street gangs with a history of enmity: the Pueblo Bishops to the south; 38th Street to the north; Barrio Mojados and Playboys to the west. As Adela says: "When you want to shoot, you do it here."

It is a way of life; indeed, when Adela was student body president at Jefferson High in the early 1980s, she also was affiliated with the 38th Street gang -- "a gang-hanger, not a gang-banger," a real distinction around here.

In the spring of 2007, according to law enforcement officials, a gang called Athens Park got into a dispute with the Pueblo Bishops, the dominant gang in a public housing development just south of the Barajas' house.

During a gunfight, a Pueblo was shot in the hand, said Los Angeles County Deputy Dist. Atty. Chuck Fredgren. Driving three cars, Pueblos went to Athens, near Gardena, seeking revenge -- but the gangsters couldn't find anyone from the Athens Park gang. Instead, the Pueblos decided to make some trouble in the territory of their more traditional rival, 38th Street. They headed north on Long Beach Avenue.

A little after 10 p.m., Laura and Joey, then 17, were headed home from her daughter Denise's quinceañera rehearsal. Laura turned her blue van left onto Long Beach Avenue, passing in front of the three-car caravan. The Pueblos mistakenly took Joey for a gang member and closed in, Fredgren said.

"They have zero idea who they are shooting at," he said.

Laura looked in the rearview mirror.

"I think they're following us," she told Joey.

One car blocked their path; directly in front of the house, two gunmen started shooting.

"I got away," Joey said. "But they got my mother."

One bullet, fired from a .44 Magnum, passed through Laura's heart. She was 34.

Wounds are deep

The children soldiered on as best they could.

Four young Pueblos were convicted of first-degree murder and given lengthy prison terms. The trials required repeated trips to court; Joey, after all, was a key witness.

Laura's kids were deeply wounded, Adela said.

Joey developed a nervous tic of looking in the rearview mirror to see who was behind him, he said. Denise got pregnant and now has a baby of her own; her relatives say they believe she would have waited had her mother been around to offer counsel. Michael said he missed his mother's cooking; Adela said she started to worry about his weight.

One day, in a fit of anger, Brian told his teachers he was going to shoot up his school, Adela said. At home, he kept insisting that it was his mother who was supposed to tuck him in at night. It was hard to argue.

Joey had been working as a cashier but felt he should quit so he could spend more time at home with his siblings. He's adopted Laura's rules; homework, for example, is done immediately after school, before video games or anything else.

"I tried to be like her, like I was their mother," he said. "It was hard. But we were doing all right."

Their troubles, however, were not over.

A breaking point

Chino -- Laura's husband, Adela's brother -- had struggled with a deep sadness after Laura's death, Adela said. Then, early last year, he decided to have something of a coming-out party on his birthday.

The party went well; the Long Beach Avenue house was bursting with fun again. Having a party in this neighborhood, however, comes with complications: "The homies come at the end," Adela said.

Gang members showed up as the band was leaving. There was an altercation, then gunfire. Bullets penetrated the metal fence; everyone in the courtyard next to the house hit the deck. Suddenly, Joey's voice rang out: "My dad's been shot!"

The bullet had passed through Chino's pelvic bone and then his small intestine. Rehabilitation took months.

By July 4 -- Laura's birthday -- he was feeling better.

That day, the four children were waiting for him in the car outside the house. They were headed to the cemetery, where they planned to put flowers on Laura's grave.

Chino was approached by a man on a bicycle -- another neighborhood character who had struggled with mental health issues. Chino thought the man had stopped to say hello; instead, while the kids watched, the man head-butted Chino, stabbed him in the arm and then fled, family members said. "They're killing him!" Brian screamed.

Chino would recover from those wounds too. But for the children, that was it for South Los Angeles. No one in the family had any misconceptions about where they lived. Even with a significant drop in violent crime recently, this pocket of South L.A. was still one of the most dangerous and gang-plagued in the city.

At some point, the family decided, enough was enough -- even here.

"When you live here, it catches up with you one way or another," Adela said. "But we felt that we were losing control. It was like: What else could happen? You couldn't even comprehend it. The things these kids had seen . . ."

She wiped away a tear.

"There had to be a breaking point," she said. "We decided: You guys are moving. Right now."

Somewhere new

They all moved to South Gate, to a house owned by Adela's sister.

"I did not want to move," Michael said. None of them did.

It was all of five miles away. But it was a new world.

It was not paradise; South Gate has gang issues of its own. But the house was on a wide, tree-lined street. It had a swimming pool, a little cabinet full of crystal figurines in the living room, refrigerator magnets from San Francisco.

It was not home. But it was somewhere new.

"It was the right thing to do," Joey said. "The other place was like marked territory. Here I can actually take a walk."

Adela has become a prominent civic activist in the wake of Laura's death. She registers new voters, holds toy giveaways at Christmas, lobbies for more park space for kids in South L.A.

She has named her youth group L.A.U.R.A. -- Life After Uncivil Ruthless Acts. It is growing quickly; the kids have visited art galleries and gone horseback riding. Some even got to meet Desmond Tutu at a conference. At their weekly meetings, they talk about the importance of going to college, about racial stereotypes, about the importance of punctuality and good nutrition. But in the end, Adela said, it remains "kind of a support group for Laura's kids."

"Your mom is not here," Adela told Brian at a recent meeting. "You have a void."

"What's a void?" Brian asked.

"It's like an emptiness."

Brian munched for a bit on lemon cookies and fidgeted.

"Can we leave?" he asked finally. "This meeting is boring."

Adela chuckled and told him to go ride his bike. For now, she said, maybe being bored is the best anyone can hope for.

http://www.latimes.com/news/local/la-me-southla-exiles18-2009oct18,0,5355791,print.story

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In Oregon, an eight-year antiwar protest

The day the Afghanistan war began in 2001, several dozen people held a candlelight vigil in Corvallis, Ore. Every afternoon since, the protest has continued.

By Kim Murphy

October 18, 2009

It started the way things do in a small town. It was the autumn of 2001, New York's World Trade Center had been attacked, there was talk of the U.S. military invading Afghanistan, and people here were calling one another, huddling over camomile tea at the Sunnyside Up coffee shop, asking what could anybody do do ?

Some of the professors over at Oregon State organized seminars to explain who the players were.

"They talked about the histories of Iraq and Afghanistan and Iran. They brought in experts on Muslim fundamentalism, and they made it quite clear there was not a clear connection between Islam and terrorism," said Mike Beilstein, a City Council member and retired chemist.

On Oct. 7, the day after bombs began falling on Kabul and Jalalabad, several dozen people got together and held a candlelight vigil against the war in Afghanistan.

The next day, Beilstein stood with an antiwar sign outside the Benton County courthouse. Two other people showed up with signs of their own.

The next day, more protesters came.

Since then, a war has started in Iraq, a new president has been installed in the White House, and the Taliban has been beaten back, only to regroup.

Yet in Corvallis, they're still saying no to the war in Afghanistan.

They have been there seven days a week, 365 days a year, between 5 p.m. and 6 p.m., since that autumn day in 2001.

"Some days, we have 100. There's never been just one. Usually, it ends up with at least five or six people by 6 p.m.," said Ed Epley, 72, a retired phone company worker who has been the mainstay of the vigil over the years.

He donates most of his afternoons to the cause, and uses his 1961 Volkswagen van to transport banners and signs back and forth to the sidewalk protest site.

Drivers often honk in support as they pass by. They drop off cookies or ice cream bars or, as on one recent day, gas money for the VW.

Sometimes people park and pick up a sign or a flag.

Other times, insults -- or worse -- are hurled out of car windows.

"Disgusting things, like cups with human sputum," said Carol Alexander, 63, a longtime environmental activist who has often joined the vigil.

"We've had ice cream cones thrown at us. Hamburgers," Epley said.

"We had a rash of moonings for a while," Alexander added.

By and large, however, the response has been positive, the protesters said.

"It's because we're united. . . . I think 80% of Americans now think it's a bad idea to be in Afghanistan. And in Corvallis, it might be 95%," Beilstein said.

There have been counter-protesters, who set up across the street or on the other end of the block, usually waving American flags and signs about supporting the troops.

Cars sometimes roar past, playing Lee Greenwood's "God Bless the USA" at full volume. Some college students spent one recent afternoon waving "Honk if you hate hippies" signs.

Lou Copes, a retired insurance agent, said she and fellow counter-protesters try not to get into it with the peace vigil supporters.

"A couple weeks ago, one of those guys had some kind of bubble thing, and he was blowing bubbles in my face," she said.

"They're very argumentative," added Betty Robidart, a retired school bus driver.

The point is not to be for or against the war, the counter-protesters said, it's to support the men and women who are fighting it.

"America has this wonderful history of defending freedom . . . and not being imperialistic, and our troops are out there doing all that," said Jane Newton, 80.

"Yet they come home, and they get these lukewarm responses from people."

On Oct. 7 -- the war's eighth anniversary, as President Obama mulled the possibility of dispatching more troops -- the Corvallis ralliers' numbers swelled to 75. Their new postcard campaign calls for the withdrawal of all U.S. troops.

When asked if the protesters ever imagined that they would still be standing on the sidewalk eight years later, Charlie Miller, a retired professor of oceanography at Oregon State University, said, "No. We thought the war would eventually end."

Added Epley: "We didn't have an exit strategy. And we still don't."

http://www.latimes.com/news/nationworld/nation/la-na-hometown-corvallis18-2009oct18,0,2738848,print.story

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FDA cracks down on Internet sales of swine flu 'cures'

About 80 Internet purveyors have been warned to stop peddling unproven or illegal treatments for H1N1 such as ultraviolet lights or dietary supplements.

By Diane C. Lade

October 18, 2009

An ultraviolet light that its sellers promise will "destroy swine flu virus." A dietary supplement claiming to be "more effective than the swine flu shot." Pills, hand sanitizers and air filters galore.

Through daily Internet searches, the Food and Drug Administration found hundreds of suspect items advertised as swine flu deterrents and cures, and over the last six months warned 80 Internet purveyors to stop peddling unproved or illegal treatments.

The FDA has issued an advisory , telling consumers to use "extreme care" when purchasing online products claiming to diagnose, treat or prevent the H1N1 virus. The agency and the Federal Trade Commission continue to closely watch these operations, anticipating that more unauthorized items will pop up for sale through the flu season.

"It's very important that consumers know these products can be deceptive and risky," said Alyson Saben, deputy director of the FDA's Office of Enforcement. "They offer a false sense of protection and could delay someone from seeking treatment."

Richard Cleland, the FTC's assistant director of the advertising practices division, said the SARS and anthrax scares generated similar products.

"Some marketers follow the news carefully . . . and take advantage of people who are fearful," he said.

The majority of the warning letters -- which tell companies to contact the FDA within 48 hours about their corrective plans or face enforcement action -- involved dietary supplements, Saben said.

An array of products were cited: air and water filters, inhalers, kits including biohazard coveralls and plastic gloves.

Some online pharmaceutical retailers claimed to have Tamiflu, one of two antiviral drugs approved by the FDA for treating swine flu. The FDA recently purchased and analyzed several of the products. One, which came in an envelope postmarked from India, consisted of two white tablets found to contain talc and acetaminophen but no oseltamivir, the active ingredient in Tamiflu.

Weil Lifestyle, the online store featuring natural health guru Dr. Andrew Weil, was sent a warning Thursday regarding its vitamin packs and immune support formula.

In a written statement, Weil said that the website information had been "primarily educational" and that his editorial content was always reviewed for federal law compliance. But he said that the language that concerned the FDA had been removed and that he supported the agency's efforts.

FDA investigators began their daily Internet searches shortly after federal health officials declared the H1N1 virus a public health emergency in April.

Penalties for not correcting violations range from seizure of the products to criminal prosecution.

About 82% of the cited retailers have complied, Saben said, but enforcement actions are being considered against several who ignored the warnings.

Warning letters are posted on the FDA website .

Red flags for online shoppers include products that claim to treat multiple diseases or that claim to be scientific breakthroughs, and sites with personal or medical testimonials.

Some retailers were puzzled why regulators would go after their swine flu remedies but leave their similarly marketed products for other illnesses alone.

"I think it was an overreaction to the news media and the sensationalism," said Marilyn Vail, a certified aromatherapist who co-owns Washington-based Inhalation Inc. with her physicist husband.

She removed her "No Colds, No Flus" and "Flu Away" inhalers from her product listings and took down her "Swine Flu Research" page, as the FDA requested. But she continues to offer eucalyptus and natural oil inhalers for treating headaches, sinus problems and asthma.

Simon Whittle, general manager of American Ultraviolet Co., said his company has been selling commercial and residential UV light systems for 50 years, claiming they eliminate germs, bacteria and mold. But Whittle said the products were never scientifically tested regarding the H1N1 virus, and he removed the swine flu references after receiving his FDA warning in June.

Owners of some health food stores say they are seeing many products carrying swine flu treatment claims. The owners say they won't stock them.

"Most people who run these kind of stores know what products are used to build the immune system, and they trust us to give them something they or their children can take," said Karla Fedoruk, owner of Cooper City Health Foods in Florida.

"We know these products aren't allowed to say they can treat swine flu."

http://www.latimes.com/news/nationworld/nation/la-na-fake-flu18-2009oct18,0,4742971,print.story

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States suing federal government for unclaimed war bonds

$16.7 billion in certificates has yet to be cashed in. Six states now say that Treasury officials haven't tried to find the bondholders or their descendants, and that states have a right to the money.

By David Cho

October 18, 2009

Reporting from Washingtonwashington

Nearly 70 years ago, the federal government began issuing hundreds of billions of dollars in savings bonds to finance the greatest war effort in the nation's history, with President Franklin D. Roosevelt buying the very first one.

But the bonds came with a catch: They wouldn't be paid off for 40 years. As the decades passed after World War II, $16.7 billion worth of bond certificates were either forgotten in dusty attics or thrown out in the trash.

That treasure has remained unclaimed, but a lawsuit could change that.

Six states have sued the federal government to get that money, contending that the Treasury Department has done nothing to find the original bondholders or their descendants -- not even send out a letter when it came time for the government to repay the bonds. Moreover, the states say, they have laws that empower them to take unclaimed property for themselves, which would be a welcome infusion of cash at a time of economic distress.

Oral arguments are expected to begin in the coming weeks in U.S. District Court in New Jersey, where the lawsuit was originally filed.

"It's daunting," said Randall Berger, a partner at Kirby McInerney who is representing the states -- Kentucky, Missouri, Montana, New Jersey, North Carolina and Oklahoma.

"But the states are doing it because they need the money and because they have these statutes that clearly lay out what happens . . . to unclaimed property."

Representatives for the Treasury Department and the U.S. attorney's office, which represents the department, declined to comment.

The case will largely turn on the issue of where the boundaries are between federal and state power, lawyers for the states say.

If the court rules in favor of the U.S. government, the Treasury Department could keep money it owes to ordinary Americans.

But if the states win, they could continue to tap unclaimed U.S. bonds in the future, in effect establishing a new stream of funding from Washington.

Some states, such as California and New York, stand to reap as much as $1.6 billion, according to figures compiled by the states based on federal data. More states haven't joined the lawsuit only because they don't know about it, Berger said.

When the savings bonds were first sold in 1941, the government emphasized a patriotic duty of citizens to support the war effort.

The Treasury produced radio musicals urging listeners to buy war bonds, and broadcast networks enlisted celebrities to make the pitch. Newspaper carriers volunteered to sell bonds along their routes.

Well after World War II, the Treasury continued to issue the bonds. (Their maturity was reduced to 30 years in 1965.)

Because many of the bonds may have been lost over the decades, state officials said, they expect that a substantial chunk of the unclaimed money could end up in their coffers if they win the lawsuit. The Treasury kept a list of the original addresses of the bondholders but never tried to contact them, according to court documents filed by the states. In many cases, original bondholders died and their rights passed to relatives.

State governments employ staff members who are responsible for matching unclaimed property -- everything from land to checking accounts -- with the rightful owners. But state officials wouldn't pursue the bondholders before the federal government provided the unclaimed proceeds. The Treasury balked, and in 2004 the states sued.

In April, Sen. John D. Rockefeller IV (D-W.Va.) introduced a bill to have the Treasury pay states $30 for every bondholder they find.

"Sen. Rockefeller believes we should return unclaimed bonds to their rightful owners, putting money in the pockets of families during tough economic times," said spokeswoman Rebecca Gale. "He introduced this legislation with the support of state treasurers so the states would have a chance to review and find the rightful owners."

No companion bill has been introduced in the House. For now, it appears, it will be up to the federal courts to settle the matter.

To the states, the issue is simple.

"The savings bonds that were issued starting some 60 years ago weren't there to benefit the federal government if the bonds were unclaimed," Montana Atty. Gen. Steve Bullock said.

http://www.latimes.com/news/nationworld/nation/la-na-war-bonds18-2009oct18,0,7631173,print.story

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Shootout, helicopter crash kill 14 in Rio

Associated Press

October 18, 2009

Rio De Janeiro

Drug traffickers shot down a police helicopter during a gun battle between rival gangs Saturday, killing two officers in a burst of violence just two weeks after the city was chosen to host the 2016 Olympic Games.

Ten suspected drug traffickers were also killed during the fighting in a shantytown, along with two bystanders, officials said.

Bullets flying from the Morro dos Macacos, or Monkey Hill, slum in north Rio de Janeiro hit the pilot of the police helicopter in the leg as he hovered above the shootout, causing the craft to go down.

Two officers died in the crash. The pilot and three other police officers escaped after the craft hit and burst into flames. The pilot and a second officer suffered bullet wounds and all four were burned, one gravely, said Mario Sergio Duarte, head of Rio state's military police.

Officials did not know whether the gangs targeted the helicopter or whether it was hit by stray bullets, but the event underscored security concerns that have dogged Brazil's second-largest city for decades.

It was not clear what sort of weapon hit the helicopter, but Duarte said it was unlikely to have been an antiaircraft missile. Such weapons have been found in the hide-outs of drug traffickers along with other heavy military-grade arms, such as grenade launchers and .50-caliber machine guns.

Duarte said the pilot was able to make a somewhat controlled though extremely rough landing, which he said would have been unlikely if the aircraft had been hit by a heavy weapon.

Police said 10 presumed traffickers were killed during the fighting in the slum, including three suspects found dead in a vehicle.

Officials gave no details on the other seven.

http://www.latimes.com/news/nationworld/world/la-fg-brazil18-2009oct18,0,5242002,print.story

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Opinion

Switzerland's example of universal healthcare

Its citizens receive very good medical care. Controlling costs, however, is difficult.

Doyle McManus

October 18, 2009

Writing From Lugano, Switzerland

At least one country already has a healthcare plan roughly similar to the one President Obama and the Democrats have proposed, with universal coverage, a mandate that everyone buy insurance and a major role for private insurance companies: Switzerland.

So I used part of a vacation last week to head for the Swiss Alps to observe the system in practice.

Dr. Jean-Oscar Meile, 53, runs a tidy one-man practice in Melide, a suburb of Lugano in Switzerland's Italian-speaking south. He is quick to say he's not a spokesman for Swiss doctors, the government or anyone else. But he has about 1,000 patients, as varied as bankers, fashion designers, rural woodcutters and immigrant laborers.

"We've got a lot of problems," he told me last week. "Costs are going up. Nobody wants to pay for them. The politicians want us to drive a Mercedes, but they're only willing to pay for a Volkswagen. ... The system was better a few years ago, before there was so much regulation."

Still, he added, "I think we have the best system in Europe. All the American doctors I know complain about your system and are jealous of ours."

Here's how the Swiss system works: Everyone is required to buy basic health insurance from one of several private companies; the government subsidizes the cost for low-income families. Consumers can choose any insurer and go to any doctor -- more choice than most Americans now enjoy. The government prescribes what the policies will cover, sets the price and tells doctors what they can charge for every medical procedure. Doctors are free to do whatever they feel is called for, order up any test and prescribe any approved medication. But if a doctor's billings exceed the regional median by too much, he or she will get a "blue letter" -- a bill from the government demanding the return of some of those fees.

By world standards, Swiss medicine is very good. The average infant born in Switzerland can expect to live to almost 82, more than three years longer than the average American baby. Swiss patients don't wait long for treatment either. "If you need an MRI, I can arrange one tonight or tomorrow," Meile said. And they pay a lot less than we do. About 11% of the Swiss GNP goes to healthcare, against about 16% of ours. Per person, that worked out in 2007 to roughly $4,417 in Switzerland and about $7,290 per person here, according to the Organization for Economic Cooperation and Development.

That makes Switzerland's system a lot cheaper than U.S. medicine, but it's not cheap in the eyes of many Swiss. In fact, the Swiss pay out-of-pocket costs that are higher than the U.S. average. This year, the basic Swiss health insurance policy cost an average of about $3,800 per adult over age 25, with a deductible of about $300 for the year and a co-payment after that of 10% (up to a ceiling of about $700). Next year, the premium will rise by about 9%. Some employers pick up a big chunk of the premium, but not all.

The unrelenting rise in costs has been the single biggest disappointment in the Swiss universal coverage system, which was created by a landmark reform in 1994. To Meile and others, the basic reason is evident: The well-insured Swiss use a lot of medical care -- too much, in fact. They visit their doctors more frequently than Americans do. They often ask for tests or pharmaceuticals that they've heard about from friends. And nobody wants to tell them no.

"People come in with back pain and ask for a CT scan," he said. "We have hypochondriacs who come in every month and ask for an EKG. The [doctor] is going to get blamed either way. If he orders the test, it's too expensive; if he turns down the patient, the patient might switch doctors."

The price structure creates another quirk, he noted. In January, when people have that deductible to pay, "nobody comes to the doctor." But by December, when many patients have hit the out-of-pocket ceiling, doctor's appointments are effectively free. "That's high season for us," Meile said.

The average general practitioner in Switzerland, he said, makes about $150,000 a year, but cardiologists and other specialists can make $300,000 or more.

"That's not a complaint," he added. "We're not starving. We're probably the best-paid doctors in Europe. Not everyone can be a millionaire."

Here's what struck me most about Meile's practice: All of his patients have the same basic insurance policy, banker and woodcutter alike (although the affluent ones buy supplemental insurance that covers private hospital rooms and dental care). None of them has to worry about going broke because of medical bills.

And here's what struck me about his clinic: Except for the German-language health posters, it could have been a doctor's office anywhere in the United States -- receptionist's desk, X-ray room, EKG machine, mini-lab. With one exception: No billing department, no bookkeepers. The insurance system is so simple that Meile handles all the billing himself. Charges go to insurance companies electronically and are paid within 10 days.

So, what can we learn from all this?

One lesson of Switzerland's experience is that near-universal coverage is possible without a government-run "public option." Swiss health insurance is provided entirely by private companies, even for the elderly. (In that sense, it's less "socialized" than U.S. medicine: There's no government-run Medicare.) By law, the basic insurance plans are nonprofit, but companies use them to attract customers to their for-profit lines of business.

Another lesson: Cost containment is very, very difficult -- especially if, like Obama and his Swiss colleagues, you've promised voters that they'll still get all the care they want.

A third lesson: Don't expect miracles. The Swiss are still working the bugs out of their system, 15 years after it was enacted. They still haven't covered everyone, and illegal immigrants are a continuing problem.

Still, they get medical care as good or better than ours, at a cost that's significantly smaller. They must be doing something right.

http://www.latimes.com/news/opinion/la-oe-mcmanus18-2009oct18,0,3556449,print.column

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THE NEXT CHIEF

The LAPD's come a long way

Thanks to Bratton, today's LAPD is a far better force. But there's room for specific improvements.

October 18, 2009

Note to readers

In this series of editorials, The Times examines the Los Angeles Police Department's record and the implications for the selection of a new chief. We invite you to write to us with your thoughts on today's LAPD, your experiences with it or your hopes of what it might become. Send to: letters@latimes.com .

The modern Los Angeles Police Department hit bottom on the afternoon of April 29, 1992. That day, a Ventura County jury refused to convict four officers who had been charged with assaulting Rodney G. King. Enraged by the decision and the department's culture of brutality and racism -- so vividly documented months earlier by the Christopher Commission -- a mob gathered outside Parker Center, heaving rocks at the building and setting a guard shack on fire.

At that moment, Chief Daryl F. Gates, who regularly decried the influence of politics on policing, was attending a political fundraiser across town. And in the hours that followed, the same LAPD whose brutality gave rise to this anger suddenly discovered its latent cowardice. Officers let the mob rampage downtown, and those sent to settle upwelling violence in South Los Angeles watched on television as Reginald Denny was pulled from his truck at Florence and Normandie and beaten to a pulp.

Recovery from those terrible days has been long and difficult, but successful. Today, Los Angeles' police force is better trained, more diverse, better disciplined and better led than the one that betrayed the city's trust in 1992. Its work is appreciated by residents across racial lines. Its record, though not perfect, is far less inflammatory and far more constructive.

As Mayor Antonio Villaraigosa and his Police Commission consider a successor to outgoing Chief William J. Bratton, they do so in an atmosphere of progress, not crisis. It has been more than a generation since a chief left the department in such strong shape, and that makes this selection an opportunity to improve rather than yet another mandate to start over. Today's LAPD has topped 10,000 officers for the first time; crime is down; police are using less serious force; and city residents overwhelmingly approve of the department's work. Those are heartening indicators.

There are, to be sure, areas where improvement is called for. The LAPD's disciplinary system, for instance, is a relic of Chief William Parker's "thin blue line" era; it is cumbersome and opaque. As Chief Bernard C. Parks used to say, the LAPD disciplines too many and fires too few. Too often, police operate outside the scope of public scrutiny. An officer wears his name on his uniform, but if he shoots and kills a suspect, the department, which once led the profession in public disclosure, will protect his anonymity. That is largely the result of a police union that misunderstands its mission and a department that has allowed it to do so. Rather than secure for officers the wages and benefits they deserve, the Los Angeles Police Protective League -- sometimes with Bratton's complicity -- has fought to protect individual officers from public scrutiny despite the public nature of their work. The next chief should do more to reward good officers and less to protect bad ones.

At the same time, the next chief must embrace and extend the important gains of the Bratton years. Bratton helped introduce the sophisticated use of statistics and mapping; the next chief must employ those and other technological tools to develop "predictive policing," which many, including Bratton, see as the next important innovation in protecting American cities. The next chief also must understand and appreciate the fundamentals of community policing -- the notion that enforcing laws against minor offenses can result in declines in more dangerous crimes.

The next chief must be shrewd and blunt and, yes, political. He or she must lobby city, state and federal officials to expand the LAPD until it can protect all the communities in this diverse and far-flung city. The next chief must demand accountability and restraint by officers, a mandate reinforced during Bratton's tenure by a federal consent decree but which, with the termination of the decree this past summer, now falls directly to the chief and command staff. And, finally, the next chief must reinforce what in some ways is Bratton's greatest contribution to Los Angeles' power structure: He has groused about the city's politics -- who hasn't? -- but he has honorably recognized that he is subordinate to his civilian bosses, the city's Police Commission and mayor. The next chief can do no greater service to Los Angeles than to ensure that Bratton's deference to civilian authority is a model, not an aberration.

Every selection of a new chief is a moment of self-examination for the LAPD. This is no exception. As city leaders consider candidates for the job, they should use this opportunity to evaluate the department itself and ask who can best build on Bratton's success. It is, moreover, a chance for the public to do the same. Polling suggests that Los Angeles residents are more appreciative of their police than they have been in many years, but that is a reason to be reflective, not complacent. Incidents such as the melee in MacArthur Park in 2007 serve as a reminder that the LAPD still has the capacity to upend the city. When the department is well run, it is a source of protection and service, as its motto insists; when it fails, it can injure not just individuals but the city's social order as well.

The selection of a new chief is the decision of the mayor and the Police Commission. But it is a decision with ramifications far beyond politics or legacies. Under the right chief, Los Angeles may continue to become safer and more harmonious. Under the wrong one, the city may learn again the lessons that gave us those horrifying days in 1992.

Monday: Measuring the LAPD's performance and the challenges for the next chief.

http://www.latimes.com/news/opinion/la-ed-lapd18-2009oct18,0,5385610,print.story

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Opinion

Chief Bratton's too-brash exit

The chief leaves behind a better LAPD, but L.A. could do without his parting commentary.

Tim Rutten

October 17, 2009

William J. Bratton, who will step down two weeks from today, deserves to go down in history alongside William H. Parker as a reforming Los Angeles police chief whose administration marked a decisive and consequential break with the past.

Parker's reforms, while they swept away decades of corruption that originated outside the department, ultimately created an LAPD dominated by the internal corruption of its own insular, defensive and malignantly autonomous culture. Bratton will leave a department that not only has pushed crime rates to historic lows, but one that is dramatically more open and on better terms with the communities it polices -- and with the civilian officials to whom it's accountable -- than at any time in the city's modern history.

Bratton has every right to be proud of that, but if he is really worried about history's regard, he might pay less attention to how many officers his successor will supervise and more to his own penchant for making churlishly silly comments about the city and its institutions.

At a recent breakfast with a group of journalists and others, for example, the chief said L.A. "is almost a city that doesn't work in so many respects, and it's frustrating. The New York minute -- the reason that phrase is so appropriate for New York, things get done."

Bratton said he much prefers the politics and city governments of his native Boston, where he began his career, and New York, where he was police commissioner. "East Coast, it's much more in your face, bloody your nose and then go out and have a drink. Here it's basically, don't have it out, hold a grudge and try to undermine each other at every turn." Bratton also remarked that Angelenos were far too predisposed to think of themselves as residents of their neighborhoods rather than of the city as a whole, and that a result was a lack of the sort of civic pride from which Boston and New York benefit.

Really?

Let's see, where to begin? In Boston, Bratton was demoted from his first command staff job for expressing an interest in one day being chief. In New York, he was forced to resign by Rudy Giuliani essentially because the mayor thought Bratton was hogging too much credit for crime reduction. There's your New York minute for you.

As far as the political process goes, Los Angeles is far from ideal. Still, while he's been here, Bratton has enjoyed the unqualified support of mayors James Hahn and Antonio Villaraigosa, as well as the civilian Police Commission. While the City Council has been inconveniently fractious in the way that democratically elected legislative bodies tend to be, it's also given Bratton virtually everything he said he needed to run his department. (Last March, Councilman Herb Wesson even proposed amending the City Charter to give the chief a third term.) The City Council, by unanimous vote, agreed to tax residents in the form of increased trash collection fees to give Bratton the extra officers he said he needed. When it comes to neighborhood provincialism, has the chief ever been to Southie or Bensonhurst? Gimme a break.

Los Angeles -- not Boston or New York -- was the city that gave Bratton the resources and time to show conclusively what his obviously effective theories on urban policing can accomplish. Some of his recent nonsense is attributable to the fact that the chief never before had lived or worked west of the Hudson and so lacks a sense of America's institutional variety. That provincialism, however, does not excuse his hypocritical dismissal of the Police Commission, a panel to which he paid obsequious deference during his seven years in office.

Bratton told a reporter at the recent gathering that he thinks the commission is "an unnecessary layer of government. ... Back in New York, I reported directly to the mayor. I was the police commissioner, I was the chief of police all in one."

Only someone with a breathtaking ignorance of Los Angeles and its history would make such an assertion. One of Bratton's great shortcomings has been a failure to recognize that he stands at the end -- and is the beneficiary of -- a long and bitterly fought battle for police reform in this city in which he had no part. The Police Commission has been an integral part of that struggle. It's a fight that has included names the chief is unlikely to recite but to whom he owes a profound respect. They include, among others: Tom Bradley, Warren Christopher, Sam Williams, Jesse Brewer, Raymond Fisher, Andrea Ordin, Zev Yaroslavsky, the American Civil Liberties Union of Southern California, Johnnie L. Cochran Jr. and this newspaper and its editorial pages.

The flaw in Bratton's reform effort always has been his tendency to elevate himself above the institution that he ought to regard as his real legacy. Without the history he dismisses and the individuals he ignores, there would have been no federal consent decree requiring reform, without which Bratton never would have been hired.

The best thing the chief can do to secure his part in that history is to keep quiet and help with the packing.

http://www.latimes.com/news/opinion/la-oe-rutten17-2009oct17,0,4578570,print.column

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