Misfortune, not back pay, piles up

Time hasn't been kind to Lucille Kilgore.

In the 20 months since a judge ordered the state to give her $447,000 in back pay for decades of work in the juvenile parole office, Kilgore hasn't received a dime.

And that hasn't been her only misfortune.

A broken hip in April. Fluid in a lung in July. A broken ankle in September.

Those injuries — combined with the state's insistence on appealing the back-pay award — have led to the greatest insecurity of Kilgore's life.

Kilgore, 88, has spent the Thanksgiving weekend worrying about whether she will be allowed to return to her home — an assisted living facility in Valley — on a Medicaid waiver for low-income people. Meanwhile, the State of Nebraska is no closer to paying her the money a judge said she is owed.

The latest reason officials have given for not wanting to pay Kilgore: An assistant attorney general reportedly told Kilgore's attorney that he doesn't want any of the back pay to end up in the hands of Ann Drozd, the former juvenile parole officer who came to Kilgore's aid and testified against the state.

The concern over who might eventually inherit the money the state owes Kilgore is just the latest twist in a seemingly never-ending saga.

“This case has become about everything except what it should be about,” Drozd said. “The bottom line is, Lu should have the same opportunity we all want: to choose how and where she gets to live her final days. After all she did for the state, it's the least she deserves. But the state refuses to give her that dignity.”

David Cookson, Nebraska Attorney General Jon Bruning's chief deputy, said the state continues to appeal the case not out of spite but out of its fear that the case could open up a floodgate. The state argued that Kilgore was a willing volunteer and resisted efforts take work away.

“Is she a sympathetic person? Obviously,” Cookson said. “But we're appealing this case despite the tragic circumstances for Ms. Kilgore because it sets a precedent for all other state agencies who use volunteers.

“Once the crack is in the dam, the crack gets bigger, and pretty soon there's a waterfall.”

Cookson declined to disclose the “reasonable” offer he said his office made to settle the case.

Drozd, who has power of attorney for Kilgore, said the highest offer was $80,000 — less than one-fifth of the judge's award.

Kilgore's attorney, Ray Aranza, declined to comment on the ongoing settlement negotiations. However, Aranza scoffed at any notion that the Kilgore case could be precedential — an argument that the judge also rejected.

“To say that it would open up the floodgates, that's just hyperbole,” Aranza said. “I've never run into a set of facts like this — and I can't find anyone else who has.”

Unlike most state volunteers who do clerical or filing work, juvenile parole officers testified, Kilgore worked 80-hour weeks.

Under the wing of former parole officer Mel Washington, Kilgore did all the duties of a juvenile parole officer for three decades. Retired after a career in the railroad, Kilgore met with juveniles, made curfew calls, issued recommendations to judges on what to do with parolees and spent hours on court reports.

She never applied for a job, in part because she thought she needed a college degree. Nonetheless, the former director of juvenile parole referred to her as his “extra parole officer,” and sent new parole officers to be trained by Kilgore. He also sent the elderly woman to preside over hearings on whether a juvenile's parole should be revoked.

After a trial in March 2008, Douglas County District Judge Marlon Polk ruled that “any reasonable person would have concluded that not only was she an employee, she may have been the supervisor of the office.”

He then awarded her $447,000. The state appealed before Polk could issue a final order.

During a hearing this spring, several Nebraska Supreme Court judges sharply questioned how Kilgore could have been considered anything but a parole officer.

However, the high court sent the case back to Polk so he could award attorney fees and issue a final written ruling. Since then, both sides have been jockeying over whether Kilgore should be allowed to further amend her lawsuit.

Now, both sides are awaiting Polk's decision, expected in early December. Then the state likely will appeal the case again — meaning any award is months away.

As the case drags on, the two sides remain in settlement discussions. It was in the course of those discussions that Assistant Attorney General Fred Coffman told Aranza he didn't want any settlement money ending up in Drozd's hands, said Drozd, who receives case updates from Aranza.

Drozd said the state resents her because she once filed a whistleblower's claim with the Nebraska Equal Opportunity Commission, alleging that she was pushed into an undesirable job after she reported Kilgore's plight to Health and Human Services officials.

Drozd, who later dropped the claim and now works in Virginia, has worked tirelessly to ensure Kilgore is cared for — without asking for anything in return, both Aranza and Kilgore said.

Kilgore has no family.

“Lucille is like a mother to me, a grandmother to my children,” Drozd said. “I would do anything for her, no different than if it was my own mother and father.”

Asked if he made a comment about to whom Kilgore might give her money, Coffman said: “You'll have to talk to Jon (Bruning) about that.”

Cookson, answering questions for Bruning, declined to specify what was said.

“Fred doesn't speak for the state,” Cookson said. “Let me assure you that what may or may not have been said is irrelevant to why the state is defending this case. Citizens expect us to defend the state where we have a legitimate defense, and that's what we're doing.”

Coffman's alleged comment comes three years after Aranza said another assistant attorney general asked “Isn't she dead yet?” during a phone call about the case.

Kilgore is very much alive — and as plucky as ever. But she's had her battles.

In April, she broke her hip at her southwest Omaha apartment. After rehabilitating in 30 days, she made herself a new home at Orchard Gardens, an assisted living facility in Valley.

“I absolutely love it there,” she said.

Then in July, one of her lungs filled with fluid, forcing her into the hospital for several weeks. Three days after recovering from that and returning to Orchard Gardens, another resident rolled a wheelchair over her foot, fracturing her ankle and forcing her back into the Valhaven nursing home in Valley. That's where she's been the past two months.

Priscilla Alexander, a physical therapist who leads Kilgore's recovery at Valhaven, said Kilgore has an uncommon zeal.

“Words cannot describe how hard a worker she is and how sweet she is,” Alexander said. “You tell her to do 10 exercises and she'll do 20. We've never had anyone who is this determined.”

Now healed, the woman who has had so many bad breaks deserves a good one, Alexander said.

Kilgore is far too independent and far too cognitively aware to have to spend the rest of her days in a nursing home, Alexander said.

But that's where Kilgore's dire financial state comes in. She receives $1,400 in railroad pension a month — which accounts for about half of the $2,750 monthly rent at Orchard Gardens. She relies on taxpayer-funded Medicaid to pay the rest.

Aranza called that the “bitter irony” of this case. Unlike all of the state officials who used Kilgore to do their work, Aranza said, Kilgore has nothing to show for her efforts. No pay. No state retirement fund. No freedom to pick where she lives.

Still, Kilgore tells anyone who will listen that “I'm the happiest and most blessed person in the universe.” She talks about how good she feels, how much she wants to get back to her friends at Orchard Gardens, how much she hopes she'll get approved for the Medicaid waiver.

At that point, the slightest sign of angst seeps in.

“It's kind of frustrating, because at this point in time, I'm in such a bad need of money,” Kilgore said. “If I had that (judge's award), I wouldn't have to worry about where I'm going to end up.”

Contact the writer:

444-1275, todd.cooper@owh.com

« Metro/Region

Share