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MURDERED BY
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JOEL SEIDEL
PHILADELPHIA INQUIRER
SLAYING IN JAIL WILL COST CAMDEN COUNTY
A 65-year-old Cherry Hill man's family settled a suit for $4 million.
His cell mate, deranged, beat him.
By Troy Graham
Joel Seidel, who was mentally ill, was awaiting a hospital transfer.
The horrific beating death of Joel Seidel by his criminally insane
cell mate forced the Camden County jail to institute a raft of
changes, and prodded police departments to rethink how they handle
the mentally ill.
Now the county will pay nearly $4 million to settle a federal lawsuit
filed by Seidel's two grown daughters - an amount their lawyers
called one of the largest ever in a case of its kind.
"The Seidel family hopes that this settlement resonates . . . so that
vulnerable inmates like Joel Seidel can be protected from senseless
injuries and death," their attorney Tom Kline said.
The agreement was finalized yesterday. The daughters, Devra Seidel
and Sharon Clark, live outside the area and were not available for
comment.
Seidel, 65 and a longtime Cherry Hill resident, was jailed in
December 2003 for violating an order barring contact with his former
wife and one of his daughters.
He could have been bailed out for $150, but the family wanted the
court to commit Seidel, who suffered from schizophrenia, to a
hospital for treatment - a process that was under way when inmate
Marvin Lister killed him.
Lister, then 35, was a violent paranoid schizophrenic who had been
committed to institutions since 1995. He was transferred to the jail
from the Ancora Psychiatric Hospital in Winslow Township after
assaulting a doctor and raping a fellow patient.
Lister and Seidel were housed together in 2 South A, the jail's 18-
cell mental-health ward, despite their opposite dispositions.
(Seidel's mental illness could make him a nuisance, friends and
neighbors said, but the frail, former stockbroker was never violent.)
During a 50-minute window on Jan. 27, 2004, Lister raped Seidel and
stomped him to death, causing multiple skull fractures and broken
ribs, tearing his heart, and lacerating his liver.
"They never should have put Joel Seidel in a cell with Marvin
Lister," Kline said. "And when they did, they sent him to slaughter."
Lister later told doctors that he had heard voices telling him to
kill Seidel, and that he had thought he was acting in self-defense.
"I felt as big as Shaquille O'Neal," he said, according to a doctor's
report. "I'm the Tasmanian Devil."
He was found not guilty of murder by reason of insanity in 2006, and
he remains institutionalized.
Seidel's death was made even more tragic by a series of missteps and
missed opportunities that could have prevented it.
Guards who were supposed to check the cells in 2 South A every 15
minutes left the inmates virtually unattended for 50 minutes on the
morning of the beating.
An officer failed to keep a logbook, then filled in the entries after
Seidel's death. Prosecutors found "inconsistencies" in the guard's
after-the-fact account.
No criminal charges were filed against the guards, but three were
disciplined.
At one of his two court hearings, Seidel showed up with black eyes.
His condition alarmed the prosecutor enough that she twice warned
jail officials about his condition.
She also took the unusual step of asking a Family Court judge to
commit Seidel without a full evaluation.
At one of those hearings, Seidel had refused a voluntary 30-day
commitment.
Four days before Seidel's death, the judge ordered an evaluation that
could have sent Seidel to a hospital, but the process had not been
completed when he was killed.
Since the death, the jail has refined its classification process to
ensure that violent and nonviolent inmates are kept separate, even
issuing them different-color jumpsuits.
The jail also has reduced crowding, added staff in the mental-health
wing, and trained guards on dealing with the mentally ill.
The county has led a drive to keep people like Seidel out of the
jail, pushing one program that trains police officers to identify
mentally ill people on the street and help divert them into treatment.
A pilot version of the program is running in Collingswood, and the
county will host a summit next month to encourage more towns to take
up the idea.
"Alternatives to incarceration must be available to officers on the
street, judges and other stakeholders in the criminal-justice
system," Camden County officials said in a statement yesterday.
The statement also called Seidel's death "a tragedy," and said the
case had been settled "to put the matter to rest for all concerned,
including Mr. Seidel's family."
The statement again reiterated the changes spurred by Seidel's death.
"The tragedy here is that they weren't in place before Joel Seidel
was killed," Kline said.
Courier-Post Staff
EYEWITNESS DESCRIBES SEIDEL JAIL SLAYING IN '04
By ALAN GUENTHER
A mentally ill inmate begged for mercy, was sexually assaulted and stomped for more than 30 minutes before guards at the Camden County Jail discovered the January 2004 killing, according to a prisoner's eyewitness account, revealed for the first time in court papers filed Friday.
Joel Seidel, 65, a frail retired stockbroker, was placed in the same cell with Marvin Lister, then 35, early on the morning of Jan. 27, 2004. Lister had a violent history and was in jail on charges he had raped another psychiatric patient. Seidel had violated a restraining order to stay away from his family and was known in his Cherry Hill neighborhood as a nuisance who sang along with Broadway show tunes played on a boom box.
Investigators questioned inmate Wylie Evans about three hours after Seidel's death. He told investigators he had a clear view into Seidel's cell. He also said he had been taking medication and was in the same mental health unit with Seidel and Lister.
"Marvin ripped his clothes off . . . I was looking at Joel's face, and he was screaming, hollering, please don't do this, and it sounded like he said don't rape me," Evans told investigators. "Marvin must have raped him for about, for about 15 minutes."
Lister stomped Seidel with his feet for more than 30 minutes, Evans told investigators. A videotape shows at least 25 minutes passed before guards discovered the body, according to attorneys for Seidel's family.
The transcript of the interview with Evans was included in a 102-page motion filed Friday in U.S. District Court in Camden by attorneys representing Seidel's estate. The Courier-Post obtained the filing through PACER, an online service that provides access to federal court records.
The motion requested the release of personnel files of the guards on duty that morning.
Lister has been charged in Seidel's killing. He is not charged with sexual assault. A spokesman for the Camden County Prosecutor's Office said he could not discuss Evans' credibility.
"I'm not going to comment on whether it's accurate or not," said Mike Cantner, a deputy chief at the prosecutor's office. "That case is still pending grand jury. Additional charges could always be lodged at grand jury."
Evans was sentenced to five years for two counts of attempted burglary, state records show. He is now at the South Woods state prison in Bridgeton.
Other inmates told the prosecutor's office that Lister had previously threatened Seidel, according to a prosecutor's report by investigator Randall C. MacNair included in the motion filed Friday.
Camden County spokesman Ken Shuttleworth declined to comment on Evans' statement or why the information was not previously released.
"We're not going to comment on anything related to those court papers," Shuttleworth said Saturday. "The truth will come out in the legal process, and that's as far as we're going to go."
But Ed Martone, a prisoners' rights advocate, said the county should have revealed what it knew about Seidel's death earlier.
"It was all part of a crime committed in a public institution. All that information should have been divulged as they had it. It's one of the reasons why people live in such jeopardy in these institutions. So much that is destructive and dangerous is kept from public view," said Martone, of the N.J. Association on Correction.
Tom Kline, attorney for Seidel's family, said Evans' statement sheds fresh insight into what Seidel suffered while in jail.
"Evans graphically depicts the horror and terror that Joel Seidel experienced in the last minutes of his life. It demonstrates the results of deliberate indifference by the authorities to his safety and the disregard of him as a human being," said Kline.
"The brutality and the obscene nature of what Evans observed clearly has a ring of authenticity, which to our understanding is corroborated by video surveillance," he said.
Kline said an attorney in his firm had viewed a videotape that showed that at least 25 minutes passed before the body was discovered.
At one point, the tape shows a guard entering the mental health unit briefly but the guard did not look into any of the cells, Kline said.
His law firm has a history of trying to work to improve conditions as part of any settlement, Kline said. In 1999, he won a $50 million settlement from SEPTA after a young boy's foot was mangled in an escalator.
" Camden County should look internally . . . (toward) shaping a jail which will truly act in the best interest of the community, to protect the most vulnerable people who came through the gates of the jail," said Kline.
In previous interviews, county officials have said they have taken steps to prevent future violence at the jail, which remains one of the most crowded in the state.
Inmates with varying criminal histories are now housed in different-colored uniforms so that guards won't place mismatched inmates in the same cells. Steps have been taken, Warden Eric Taylor has said, to improve security.
Records show that more than 1,800 prisoners are housed at the facility. It is designed to hold about 1,250.
In many cases, four prisoners sleep in cells originally designed to hold one. In those cases, two prisoners sleep in bunks and two on the floor - one near the toilet.
There were three prisoners in Seidel's cell in the mental health unit.
The court papers filed Friday also revealed details about other incidents previously reported in the Courier-Post.
The court papers included:
A copy of a letter from a mental health worker, Ellen Green, who said the jail received a phone call that Seidel had been beaten and appeared in court with black eyes two weeks before he was killed.
Mental health workers' intake sheets that evaluated both Seidel and Lister. Seidel had low scores for violence and instability. Lister had high scores for potential violence.
A sworn deposition in which Deputy Warden Marilyn Berry told Seidel's attorneys that corrections officers could not routinely check the histories of inmates.
"Most of them are not cleared to get that information," she said. "Just certain people are."
In another sworn deposition, James McIntyre, a shift supervisor in the jail, told attorneys that Lister "had a history of violent behavior towards other inmates and staff."
ROSALYN ATKINSON
A JAIL ORDEAL, A FAMILY'S TRAGEDY
By Tina Moore
Disoriented and scared, Rosalyn Atkinson awoke crying and asked the
nurse at her bedside a prophetic question:
"Am I going to die?"
It was Oct. 18, 2002, and Atkinson was on the 11th day of an 18-day
odyssey that would take her from the Delaware County jail to a local
hospital, back to jail, and then, as she feared, to her death.
Officially, Atkinson, 25, died because of a fatal overdose of a
single high-blood-pressure drug administered by jail infirmary staff,
the Delaware County medical examiner determined.
Jail operators admitted no wrongdoing but agreed to a $100,000
settlement. For Atkinson's two children, it means each will receive
$31,782.42 after legal fees and medical costs, according to a court
document filed early this month.
The story of the final weeks of Atkinson's life, however, encompasses
far more than a single error in a prison infirmary.
A review of court filings and medical and hospital records provided
by Atkinson's family revealed:
Prison staff did not consistently provide prescribed medication,
failed to monitor her vital signs, and misinterpreted Atkinson's
psychotic behavior as a sign of drug abuse.
Atkinson was jailed on a probation violation three days after she was
diagnosed with a severe form of lupus, a potentially fatal autoimmune
disorder that can cause psychotic behavior. She was locked up because
of a shoving match with another woman at Crozer-Chester Medical
Center in which no one was injured. Probation officers ignored
numerous pleas from her mother to give Atkinson house arrest instead
of incarceration.
When Atkinson fell seriously ill, the jail transferred her to Riddle
Memorial Hospital, which later sent her back to prison even though,
medical records show, she was still suffering from delusions.
Atkinson died about 40 hours later.
Six inmates have died from unnatural causes since 2001 at Delaware
County's George W. Hill Correctional Center in Thornton. Operated by
the GEO Group, it is the only privately run adult jail in the state.
In addition to Atkinson's death, two prisoners committed suicide,
another was killed by a fellow inmate, and the fourth died of an
overdose of heroin smuggled into the jail. A fifth died in 2005 of
head and neck injuries after repeatedly throwing himself against his
cell door, county officials said.
Jail Superintendent George W. Hill said in a statement that all
deaths and injuries at the prison are investigated immediately "to
determine if corrective action is necessary."
"Together with GEO, we strive to do our best, under sometimes
difficult circumstances, to provide a safe environment for all
concerned," he said.
A GEO Group spokesman said, "We have implemented training
following... Ms. Atkinson's death."
Death rates in suburban jails vary from 3 per 1,000 inmates in
Delaware County since 2001 to fewer than 1 per 1,000 in Montgomery
County. Data for 2000 from Delaware County were unavailable.
Born and raised in Chester, Atkinson had difficulty finding and
keeping a job.
"It wasn't always easy," her mother, Joyce Atkinson, said recently as
she wore a sweatshirt bearing the image of Rosalyn, "but we had each
other to lean on."
Atkinson worked a variety of low-paying positions at retail outlets.
By the time she was 25, she had two daughters, Cye'Ayshia, now 8, and
Ro'Nayshia, now 10, and was on public assistance.
She was also in trouble with the law.
On Sept. 9, 2002, Atkinson was at Crozer-Chester Medical Center to be
treated for recurring severe headaches. There, she got into a shoving
match with a hospital employee, Joi Tucker. Each filed a criminal
complaint against the other. The relatively minor incident would have
far-ranging repercussions for Atkinson, because she was still on
probation from a 1997 altercation in which she had sliced Tucker's
face during an argument over a man.
Atkinson returned to Crozer-Chester on Sept. 23, suffering from
shortness of breath, headaches and vomiting.
Doctors ran a laundry list of tests, and on Oct. 5, she was
discharged with a diagnosis of systemic lupus erythematosus, the most
severe form of the disease.
The autoimmune disease - most common among African American women -
causes a person's immune system to attack its own tissues and may
have caused Atkinson's hypertension. Crozer-Chester doctors
prescribed a series of drugs, including steroids and powerful blood-
pressure medicine.
Then on Oct. 8, Atkinson was arrested at her mother's home.
Brawling with Tucker a month earlier had violated the terms of her
probation. Her mother's pleas to probation and police officers that
her daughter was too ill to be jailed went unheeded.
Once Atkinson was in the jail, her health quickly deteriorated, and
her behavior became more and more erratic. Prison medical records
documented her condition.
"Behavior bizarre - waits at cell door with belongings ready to
leave," a jail employee wrote Oct. 11, Atkinson's fourth day in jail.
"Inappropriate responses to questions. Constantly needs redirection."
The confusion and odd behavior were likely a symptom of Atkinson's
lupus, said a doctor who reviewed Atkinson's medical records at The
Inquirer's request.
About 30 percent of lupus patients can have neurological or
psychiatric disease, including psychosis, said Dr. Joan M. Von Feldt,
an associate professor of medicine at the University of Pennsylvania
Health System's Division of Rheumatology.
A severe case, like Atkinson's, makes "neuro-psychiatric lupus" more
likely and should have been "the first thing" Atkinson's doctors
considered, Von Feldt said.
Instead, Atkinson ended up undergoing a detoxification regime after a
prison psychiatrist reported that on Oct. 11, Atkinson had "admitted
to using marijuana laced with PCP." But tests Oct. 15 showed no
illegal drugs in her urine.
For at least two days, Oct. 13 and 14, she took no prescribed
medication. Prison records say she "refused medication," which
included steroids and two hypertension drugs to control her blood
pressure, Verapamil and beta blockers. Infirmary documents show that
medical staff had not taken her blood pressure or other vital signs
Oct. 12-14.
By Oct. 14, her seventh day in jail, Atkinson was neither eating nor
drinking.
That evening, infirmary physician Victoria Gessner increased
Atkinson's steroid dosage. But by early Oct. 15, Atkinson was naked,
crying and screaming in her cell, nurse Susan Pentney wrote.
Contacted at her home, Pentney would not comment directly on medical
treatment at the jail but said: "I'm really anti accusing doctors and
pointing fingers. I mean, the woman was in jail. You don't expect to
get the best treatment in jail."
On the outside, Atkinson's family was fighting for her release. Her
mother and sister contacted the Pennsylvania Prison Society, the
NAACP, and their state representative.
Gwendolyn Atkinson, her sister, pleaded with a probation supervisor
to give her sibling house arrest until a court hearing could be held.
"Explained to her that we were getting phone calls stating Rosalyn
was given incorrect medication, she had been strapped to a bed with
no clothes on since Friday and she had been throwing feces around and
urinating on herself," Gwendolyn wrote in a journal she kept during
the events.
Nancy Gray, deputy director of adult probation and parole, said the
county has no written policy for determining when a person is jailed
for a parole violation versus house arrest. Each decision is made by
the individual probation officer, she said. But she noted that
Atkinson was accused of assaulting a woman she had been convicted of
assaulting five years earlier. "We had a person victimizing a
victim," she said.
National standards written by the American Correctional Association
and adopted by Pennsylvania include nothing about handling ill
prisoners, but do state that "alternatives" to bail revocation and
incarceration "are considered to the extent that public safety is not
endangered."
Bill McDevitt, director of the Bureau of Probation Services for the
Pennsylvania Board of Probation and Parole, said those standards,
which counties must also meet to receive state aid, required that
Atkinson receive a hearing on the new charge - the shoving match with
Tucker - within 14 days of her arrest.
By Oct. 14, Atkinson had been in jail for seven of those 14 days, and
her condition was worsening. The waste products in her blood soared
to a level that indicated her kidneys were functioning at only about
10 percent efficiency.
She was "crying, screaming, hysterically at times, dancing, laughing
at other times," according to infirmary records.
The following day, Gessner upped her dosage of Prednisone, records
show. The steroid is used to treat lupus flares. The same day, the
infirmary staff transferred her to Riddle Memorial Hospital.
Atkinson arrived dehydrated with dangerously high blood pressure,
hospital records show. She was put on intravenous steroids and
hypertension medication. She was handcuffed and guarded by two
correctional officers, as was hospital and prison policy.
One physician, Christine Meyer, wrote that Atkinson's prescribed
medications, including Prednisone, "apparently were not continued at
her usual doses" at the jail.
After three days of treatment with intravenous steroids, Atkinson
awoke the morning of Oct. 18 still confused about her surroundings
but lucid enough to ask whether or not she was going to die.
Atkinson's family turned to lawyer John Nails.
On Oct. 21, 13 days after she was arrested, Atkinson had not yet
appeared in court. The same day, Nails, the lawyer retained by her
mother, filed a motion for an emergency hearing. A judge ordered that
it be held within three days of her release from Riddle.
There, Atkinson remained delusional, and at 5 p.m. on Wednesday, Oct.
23, the bedridden woman asked a nurse: "How did I get stuck in the
elevator?"
Nevertheless, Atkinson was sent back to jail that evening. Riddle
Memorial Hospital refused to discuss Atkinson's treatment, citing
patient-confidentiality rules.
Meyer, the physician who signed her discharge papers at Riddle,
declined to discuss Atkinson's treatment. "I'm not going to comment
at all on that case," she said last month.
Infirmary physician Gessner, who no longer works at the jail, said in
a recent interview that Atkinson "came back from the hospital exactly
as she left."
At jail, a prison nurse wrote on the same night that Atkinson was
"still delusional" and "crying, banging on window, talking to self."
The following day, she was again "acting bizarre" and "speaking to
persons not present," another nurse wrote. Atkinson did not sleep or
eat that night.
The next morning, Atkinson's blood pressure plummeted. Worried jail
nurses consulted Gessner by phone.
At 9 a.m., infirmary records show, Atkinson was given the
hypertension drug Verapamil, which is used to treat a fast heart
rate. The intravenous medication was prescribed in the hospital and
approved by Gessner.
About 9:50 a.m., Atkinson's eyes stopped reacting to light, and
prison nurse Patrick Teesdale ordered a jail employee to call 911.
Ambulance personnel and Teesdale initiated CPR, but Atkinson was
already dead.
Reached at his home in Sewell, N.J., Teesdale said that he remembered
the case well and that it had disturbed him deeply. He refused to
comment further.
In notes Gessner wrote the day Atkinson died, she said potential
causes were "massive myocardial infarction," or a heart attack. She
also noted that the death could have been hastened by a "high dose"
of the Verapamil and beta blocker. Both drugs reduce blood pressure,
and medical literature says they can be dangerous if combined.
In recent interviews, Medical Examiner Frederic Hellman, while citing
a relatively low overdose of Verapamil as the cause, added that
combining it with the blood-pressure drug already in Atkinson's
system could have contributed to her death.
Gessner defended the medical care Atkinson received.
"During my tenure there, her medical care was superior to any medical
care she would have received in the community," Gessner said.
GEO Group spokesman Pablo Paez would not detail the new training that
was ordered after Atkinson's death. He said the case was "settled
without any admission of wrongdoing on behalf on medical staff or the
administration of the facility."
Lawyer Jon Auritt of Media, who took Joyce Atkinson's case, explained
the modest settlement this way in a court document filed earlier this
month:
"Considering the fatal irreversibility of her illness at the time she
entered the prison, it is unlikely, had decedent not passed away at
the prison, any significant income would have been earned... ."
Damage awards are based, in part, on the victim's potential future
earnings.
Auritt said that physicians consulted had determined that Atkinson
would have died anyway, "just maybe not as soon" had she not been in
jail.
Meanwhile, the county is seeking a new jail operator. Prison Board
officials have said GEO Group's management of the prison had nothing
to do with the decision to seek bids.
One circumstance surrounding her daughter's death that still nags at
Joyce Atkinson is how jail officials notified her.
"They called me on the phone," she said recently. "They didn't even
come to my house and tell me. They came here to arrest her - they
could have come and told me she was dead."
A Timeline in the Atkinson Case
Sept. 9, 2002 - Rosalyn Atkinson gets into a shoving match with Joi
Tucker, whom she had fought with five years earlier.
Sept. 23, 2002 - Atkinson, dehydrated and vomiting, goes to the
emergency room at the Crozer-Chester Medical Center.
Oct. 5, 2002 - Doctors determine that Atkinson is suffering from
lupus erythematosus, a severe form of the chronic illness. She is
sent home with a prescription for medications to ease her symptoms.
Oct. 8 - Sheriff's deputies alerted to the fight with Tucker arrest
Atkinson on a probation violation and take her to Delaware County's
jail.
Oct. 10 - The jail infirmary, aware of her lupus, begins medicating
Atkinson.
Oct. 11 - Infirmary nurses note that Atkinson's behavior is
"bizarre." A jail psychologist notes that Atkinson told him she had
smoked "wet," a potent mixture of marijuana and PCP.
Oct. 12-14 - Infirmary nurses note that Atkinson refused to have her
vitals taken and wouldn't take her medication.
Oct. 15 - A nurse's notes regarding Atkinson at 1 a.m. state that
"inappropriate, bizarre, behavior continues. Thinking disorganized.
No clothing."
By 8 a.m., a nurse writes that Atkinson is "lying in a fetal
position, quiet."
At 2:40 p.m., she is transported to Riddle Memorial Hospital with
dehydration and hypertension.
Oct. 15 - Joyce and Gwendolyn Atkinson, her mother and sister, call
the Delaware County Office of Adult Probation and Parole. They
explain her medical condition and ask the department to put Atkinson
on home monitoring. They are unaware that she has been taken to the
hospital.
Oct. 15 - At Riddle, doctors treat Atkinson with steroids and anti-
hypertension medications. Several days of intravenous Solu-Medrol
therapy improve her condition "drastically," Dr. Christine Meyer writes.
Oct. 15 - Atkinson is tested for illegal drugs at Riddle Memorial
Hospital. The results come back negative for both phencyclidine (PCP)
and marijuana.
Oct. 20 - At 4 p.m., Atkinson is "tearful" that she can't have
visitors at Riddle Memorial Hospital.
Oct. 21 - Chester lawyer John W. Nails files a motion to get Atkinson
released from jail.
Oct. 22 - Commonwealth Court Judge Patricia Jenkins rules that the
district attorney should show cause for holding Atkinson within three
days of her return to jail.
Oct. 23 - The hospital sends Atkinson back to jail at 6:30 p.m. She
is placed in the infirmary.
Oct. 24 - Atkinson is "acting bizarre speaking to persons not
present," a prison infirmary nurse notes.
Oct. 25 - At 8:30 a.m., Atkinson's blood pressure plummets to 80/42.
Normal blood pressure is usually around 120/80.
By 9:50 a.m., her pupils are fixed and not reacting to light.
About 9:55 a.m., she is taken to ambulance entrance and has a weak
pulse and slow, deep respiration. Her breathing ceased as a nurse
made his report to ambulance personnel, nurse's notes show.
She is pronounced dead at Riddle Memorial Hospital an hour later.
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