State voters make tough choices
STATE SENATE
WITH GOP WIN, THE PARTY TAKES LEGISLATURE LEADERSHIP
By Julie Bisbee
Capitol Bureau
jbisbee@opubco.com
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
The Republicans will have the majority in the state Senate for the first time in history.
Republicans in Tuesday's election retained incumbent seats and picked up at least two seats to get the majority in the Senate.
Vote totals in a third race between Republican incumbent Jim Reynolds and Democrat David Boren still were being counted late Tuesday in the District 43 race. Boren is not related to U.S. Rep. Dan Boren. Less than 100 votes separated the candidates.
Even with the final count still out in District 43, Republicans bested the Democrats by two seats. The Democrats and Republicans had been tied at 24 and shared control of the Senate since 2006.
Sen. Glenn Coffee, co-president pro-tempore, said having John McCain on the ballot gave the Republicans additional momentum. McCain took the majority of the votes in Oklahoma.
"He carried the state and we've had great candidates who did a good job, and the message resonated with the voters," Coffee said.
A new agenda
While bemoaning the outcome of the presidential election, Republicans celebrated their win at the state House, promising to push for pro-business, pro-tort reform and a pro-family agenda.
The newly elected candidates lined up behind Coffee onstage at the state GOP watch party.
"We're going to change Oklahoma," Coffee said. "You're looking at the best bunch of All-Americans any coach could ask for."
Republicans took control of the Senate by picking up two Democrat-held seats, including a seat in the Tulsa area held by a senator who switched parties in 2006, stoping a GOP majority that year.
Sen. Nancy Riley, D-Tulsa, lost to Republican Dan Newberry. Republicans picked up a Stillwater seat with a win by James Halligan, former Oklahoma State University president, who beat a former judge, Democrat Bob Murphy. Halligan will fill Democrat Mike Morgan's seat, who was term limited.
Democrat Sen. Charlie Laster, co-floor leader, said Barack Obama's decision not to campaign in Oklahoma hurt the state races.
"There's no question, the Obama factor was too much for us to overcome," Laster said. "When the guy at the top of the ticket abandons the state from the start and leaves us swinging in the wind, our candidates have to outperform the other candidates by nearly 16 points or more. That's just a tough deal."
Thursday, November 6, 2008
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
Friday, September 5, 2008
Prison Rodeo
'Women of the West' take on prison rodeo
Inmates say sport taught them value of teamwork.
By Julie Bisbee
THE OKLAHOMAN
Staff Writer
Friday, August 15, 2008
McLOUD — Lakota Wise has spent most of her life taking risks and cheating death. This weekend is no different.
But the adrenaline rush of riding on the back of rearing bull is the high 29-year-old seeks this weekend.
Wise is one of nine women who make up the "Women of the West," rodeo team from the Mabel Bassett Correctional Center in McLoud. The women, who have been training since June, will be one of two female teams to compete in the rodeo this weekend in McAlester. The women will compete in bronc riding, bull riding and cattle dogging. Teams from 10 different prisons will compete in the rodeo. Louisiana and Oklahoma are the only states with prison rodeos and Oklahoma's rodeo is the only one in the world behind prison walls.
Organizers expect 12,000 to 16,000 people to show up for the annual event tonight and Saturday night, said Terry Crenshaw, warden's assistant at the state prison. The prison rodeo in McAlester is legendary with such events as "Money The Hard Way," where inmates scramble to get a piece of ribbon attached to a bull's horns. The winner gets $100.
Few inmate teams practice with livestock before coming into the arena at McAlester.
"It's a whole lot different when you get down in the chute and see that bull," said Deborah Graumann, a rodeo team coach and health administrator at the prison.
To the rodeo
Wise is a sturdy American Indian woman who is serving a lengthy prison sentence for drug possession and forgery. It's her first year on the team.
"We're not here because we're innocent," Wise said. "We've risked our lives out on the street, now we're doing it on the back of the animal. This is something positive and the first time I've done something like this sober."
Tonight's rodeo will also be the first time the team has ridden livestock.
But on the back of a training bull, they've tackled the most formidable foe, their own doubts and fears, said Warden Millicent Newton-Embry.
"It's a demon to beat and that gives them a real sense of accomplishment," said Newton-Embry. "That bull is just a metaphor for their demon, be it fear, drugs or whatever it was that brought them into the system. They figure if they can do this, they can do anything."
Forming a bond
The afternoon sun blazes and glints off the razor wire as nine women huddle around a barrel anchored to the ground. The women have traded their prison-issued smocks for black jeans and purple work shirts. They sport cowboy boots made of smooth black leather or lace up work boots. The boots are sent in by family members specifically for rodeo training.
The women had been training well before their boots and dungarees arrived.
"We've been rolling down that hill trying to learn how to fall," said Bobbie Gragson, who is serving a sentence for manufacturing methamphetamine. "You got to learn how to ride, but you also got to learn how to fall."
Gragson, 42, is the only veteran team member. This will be her third trip to the rodeo. She takes on the role of team captain.
The first time Gragson stared down the back of a bull she was hoping to get hurt, to dull the pain of losing her mother that year.
"My first year was about self-destruction. I didn't want to be able to get through it," Gragson said. "But it helped me get in touch with my fear. I think it's helped us all blossom."
Gragson's long dark hair spills out of a black felt cowboy hat and trails behind her as she rides the bull. The women have been training on a barrel shaped like the back of a bull and anchored to the ground. On the back, two women heave the barrel to simulate the kicks of a bull. Another woman stands at the front of the barrel and pulls forward.
Lowery, 27, holds tight and lasts for six seconds. The women cheer her as she hops off the barrel. A few months ago, the thought of riding a bull or riding a horse bareback was out of the realm of possibility for Lowery, who is serving a sentence for second-degree burglary and completing a substance abuse treatment program.
Between calisthenics, weight training and riding drills, a bond has been forged.
"One of the things you never want to do in the penitentiary is trust someone," Gragson said. "But we trust each other. We trust the staff members that are working with us. They want to see us do something positive."
Under the lights of the arena and in the mud, the women feel they've earned their spot there — even if they stay on the bull for only two seconds.
"This is what separates the women from the girls," Gragson said. "You put on your rodeo face and you keep going."
IF YOU GO
Prison rodeo
Where: Oklahoma State Penitentiary, McAlester.
When: Gates open at 6 p.m., rodeo starts at 8 p.m. tonight and Saturday.
Tickets: Box seats $17; reserved $12; general admission $8. Tickets are available at the gate or can be purchased online from the McAlester Chamber of Commerce at www.mcalester.org.
Inmates say sport taught them value of teamwork.
By Julie Bisbee
THE OKLAHOMAN
Staff Writer
Friday, August 15, 2008
McLOUD — Lakota Wise has spent most of her life taking risks and cheating death. This weekend is no different.
But the adrenaline rush of riding on the back of rearing bull is the high 29-year-old seeks this weekend.
Wise is one of nine women who make up the "Women of the West," rodeo team from the Mabel Bassett Correctional Center in McLoud. The women, who have been training since June, will be one of two female teams to compete in the rodeo this weekend in McAlester. The women will compete in bronc riding, bull riding and cattle dogging. Teams from 10 different prisons will compete in the rodeo. Louisiana and Oklahoma are the only states with prison rodeos and Oklahoma's rodeo is the only one in the world behind prison walls.
Organizers expect 12,000 to 16,000 people to show up for the annual event tonight and Saturday night, said Terry Crenshaw, warden's assistant at the state prison. The prison rodeo in McAlester is legendary with such events as "Money The Hard Way," where inmates scramble to get a piece of ribbon attached to a bull's horns. The winner gets $100.
Few inmate teams practice with livestock before coming into the arena at McAlester.
"It's a whole lot different when you get down in the chute and see that bull," said Deborah Graumann, a rodeo team coach and health administrator at the prison.
To the rodeo
Wise is a sturdy American Indian woman who is serving a lengthy prison sentence for drug possession and forgery. It's her first year on the team.
"We're not here because we're innocent," Wise said. "We've risked our lives out on the street, now we're doing it on the back of the animal. This is something positive and the first time I've done something like this sober."
Tonight's rodeo will also be the first time the team has ridden livestock.
But on the back of a training bull, they've tackled the most formidable foe, their own doubts and fears, said Warden Millicent Newton-Embry.
"It's a demon to beat and that gives them a real sense of accomplishment," said Newton-Embry. "That bull is just a metaphor for their demon, be it fear, drugs or whatever it was that brought them into the system. They figure if they can do this, they can do anything."
Forming a bond
The afternoon sun blazes and glints off the razor wire as nine women huddle around a barrel anchored to the ground. The women have traded their prison-issued smocks for black jeans and purple work shirts. They sport cowboy boots made of smooth black leather or lace up work boots. The boots are sent in by family members specifically for rodeo training.
The women had been training well before their boots and dungarees arrived.
"We've been rolling down that hill trying to learn how to fall," said Bobbie Gragson, who is serving a sentence for manufacturing methamphetamine. "You got to learn how to ride, but you also got to learn how to fall."
Gragson, 42, is the only veteran team member. This will be her third trip to the rodeo. She takes on the role of team captain.
The first time Gragson stared down the back of a bull she was hoping to get hurt, to dull the pain of losing her mother that year.
"My first year was about self-destruction. I didn't want to be able to get through it," Gragson said. "But it helped me get in touch with my fear. I think it's helped us all blossom."
Gragson's long dark hair spills out of a black felt cowboy hat and trails behind her as she rides the bull. The women have been training on a barrel shaped like the back of a bull and anchored to the ground. On the back, two women heave the barrel to simulate the kicks of a bull. Another woman stands at the front of the barrel and pulls forward.
Lowery, 27, holds tight and lasts for six seconds. The women cheer her as she hops off the barrel. A few months ago, the thought of riding a bull or riding a horse bareback was out of the realm of possibility for Lowery, who is serving a sentence for second-degree burglary and completing a substance abuse treatment program.
Between calisthenics, weight training and riding drills, a bond has been forged.
"One of the things you never want to do in the penitentiary is trust someone," Gragson said. "But we trust each other. We trust the staff members that are working with us. They want to see us do something positive."
Under the lights of the arena and in the mud, the women feel they've earned their spot there — even if they stay on the bull for only two seconds.
"This is what separates the women from the girls," Gragson said. "You put on your rodeo face and you keep going."
IF YOU GO
Prison rodeo
Where: Oklahoma State Penitentiary, McAlester.
When: Gates open at 6 p.m., rodeo starts at 8 p.m. tonight and Saturday.
Tickets: Box seats $17; reserved $12; general admission $8. Tickets are available at the gate or can be purchased online from the McAlester Chamber of Commerce at www.mcalester.org.
Treatment plan specifically designed for female juveniles
By Julie Bisbee
The Oklahoman
Staff Writer
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
TECUMSEH — Three years ago, when the head of a state juvenile detention facility volunteered to accept all the female juvenile offenders in Oklahoma, the move was greeted with looks of disbelief and in some cases pity.
Today, however, the Central Oklahoma Juvenile Center has created a treatment program specifically for female offenders, and the program has become a model for other programs designed just for girls.
"We have a lot of people from other states who want to come in and see our program," said Gene Christian, executive director for the Office of Juvenile Affairs. "Very few states treat their female offenders dramatically different than their male offenders."
In Oklahoma, stemming the tide of adult female convicts is a priority. The state puts more women in jail, per capita, than any other.
At the juvenile level, officials are trying to treat problems that might otherwise send a girl down the path toward life as a criminal adult. The program for girls, whose crimes ranged from first-degree murder to assault and battery, is the first of its kind in Oklahoma.
In the past, female offenders were placed where space was available and the treatment and therapy programs were similar to what male offenders received, said Johnson, Central Oklahoma Juvenile Center's superintendent.
"They need different things," Johnson said. "You can't try to fit a square peg in a round hole. The girls need to talk more, they have questions and they have different issues."
Before the female offender program was put into place, girls who had been convicted of crimes were sent wherever there were open beds, usually the L.E. Rader facility in Sand Springs. When female offenders were consolidated, the Tecumseh facility had to take a look at the programs available. Boys were playing football and competing in volleyball tournaments.
The female offenders needed something different. Not all girls wanted to compete in tournaments or race in swim meets. Instead, the facility added programs such as quilting clubs, yoga, Girl Scouts and even a version of "Oprah's Book Club," Johnson said.
The uniforms the kids wear also changed. In the past, girls and boys wore square-cut jeans and different colored T-shirts that corresponded with their security level at the facility. Now girls and boys wear khaki pants that are more form-fitting, Johnson said. Girls also have a say in the type of swimming suits that are issued to teens.
There are 40 beds for female offenders at the Tecumseh facility, and while the number of female offenders has grown over the past few years, currently there are only 29 girls at the facility. Systemwide, female offenders make up about 10 percent of the total number of children serving time in a juvenile detention facility, according to figures from the Office of Juvenile Affairs.
Struggling through treatment
While juvenile offenders may have access to swimming pools, book clubs and radio-controlled airplane clubs, they also have to complete a treatment plan before being released.
"We hold them to it," Johnson said. "We hold their feet to the fire, and if we don't feel like they're making progress, we don't move them on."
Juveniles are not serving a sentence set by a judge, but rather completing a series of steps that will hopefully make it easier for them to cope in the outside world where temptation is great and offenders often fall back into old patterns with family or gangs. The approach isn't always popular, but officials say it works better than teaching kids to be "mini-DOC inmates."
Seth Trickey and Daniel Dillingham were both convicted of violent offenses and released from the juvenile system after completing all their phases of treatment.
Jordan, an 18-year-old from Oklahoma County, has been at the Tecumseh detention center for a little more than a year. She and her then-23-year-old boyfriend were convicted of killing Jordan's mother. Her mother had objected to their relationship, Jordan said.
Jordan is a soft-spoken, petite girl with a bright smile and soft voice. While being in treatment, she's had to understand her crime and her own personal weaknesses.
"I had a bad attitude when I came here. I didn't care about anything, and you couldn't tell me anything," she said. "There are things you do, that you don't realize are antisocial or anything. But when I came here they started pointing those things out to me, and that was hard at first."
Jordan has progressed, but still has plenty to work on. But while being at the juvenile detention facility, she's realized she has choices and goals for her life.
"Before I came here, I didn't have any goals," she said. "I was working as waitress in a restaurant, my mom was a waitress in a restaurant. I probably wasn't even going to finish high school. I like myself a lot more now."
Now she wants to pursue a cosmetology license and then eventually become a counselor, she said.
"I think I could help a lot of people," she said.
For Johnson, who has worked with troubled youth for nearly 24 years, giving kids a second chance is his motto.
"A lot of times kids get to come here to be kids," he said. "Some of them have never been to the movies before when the come here. ... We've just got to give them a chance to make positive choices."
The Oklahoman
Staff Writer
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
TECUMSEH — Three years ago, when the head of a state juvenile detention facility volunteered to accept all the female juvenile offenders in Oklahoma, the move was greeted with looks of disbelief and in some cases pity.
Today, however, the Central Oklahoma Juvenile Center has created a treatment program specifically for female offenders, and the program has become a model for other programs designed just for girls.
"We have a lot of people from other states who want to come in and see our program," said Gene Christian, executive director for the Office of Juvenile Affairs. "Very few states treat their female offenders dramatically different than their male offenders."
In Oklahoma, stemming the tide of adult female convicts is a priority. The state puts more women in jail, per capita, than any other.
At the juvenile level, officials are trying to treat problems that might otherwise send a girl down the path toward life as a criminal adult. The program for girls, whose crimes ranged from first-degree murder to assault and battery, is the first of its kind in Oklahoma.
In the past, female offenders were placed where space was available and the treatment and therapy programs were similar to what male offenders received, said Johnson, Central Oklahoma Juvenile Center's superintendent.
"They need different things," Johnson said. "You can't try to fit a square peg in a round hole. The girls need to talk more, they have questions and they have different issues."
Before the female offender program was put into place, girls who had been convicted of crimes were sent wherever there were open beds, usually the L.E. Rader facility in Sand Springs. When female offenders were consolidated, the Tecumseh facility had to take a look at the programs available. Boys were playing football and competing in volleyball tournaments.
The female offenders needed something different. Not all girls wanted to compete in tournaments or race in swim meets. Instead, the facility added programs such as quilting clubs, yoga, Girl Scouts and even a version of "Oprah's Book Club," Johnson said.
The uniforms the kids wear also changed. In the past, girls and boys wore square-cut jeans and different colored T-shirts that corresponded with their security level at the facility. Now girls and boys wear khaki pants that are more form-fitting, Johnson said. Girls also have a say in the type of swimming suits that are issued to teens.
There are 40 beds for female offenders at the Tecumseh facility, and while the number of female offenders has grown over the past few years, currently there are only 29 girls at the facility. Systemwide, female offenders make up about 10 percent of the total number of children serving time in a juvenile detention facility, according to figures from the Office of Juvenile Affairs.
Struggling through treatment
While juvenile offenders may have access to swimming pools, book clubs and radio-controlled airplane clubs, they also have to complete a treatment plan before being released.
"We hold them to it," Johnson said. "We hold their feet to the fire, and if we don't feel like they're making progress, we don't move them on."
Juveniles are not serving a sentence set by a judge, but rather completing a series of steps that will hopefully make it easier for them to cope in the outside world where temptation is great and offenders often fall back into old patterns with family or gangs. The approach isn't always popular, but officials say it works better than teaching kids to be "mini-DOC inmates."
Seth Trickey and Daniel Dillingham were both convicted of violent offenses and released from the juvenile system after completing all their phases of treatment.
Jordan, an 18-year-old from Oklahoma County, has been at the Tecumseh detention center for a little more than a year. She and her then-23-year-old boyfriend were convicted of killing Jordan's mother. Her mother had objected to their relationship, Jordan said.
Jordan is a soft-spoken, petite girl with a bright smile and soft voice. While being in treatment, she's had to understand her crime and her own personal weaknesses.
"I had a bad attitude when I came here. I didn't care about anything, and you couldn't tell me anything," she said. "There are things you do, that you don't realize are antisocial or anything. But when I came here they started pointing those things out to me, and that was hard at first."
Jordan has progressed, but still has plenty to work on. But while being at the juvenile detention facility, she's realized she has choices and goals for her life.
"Before I came here, I didn't have any goals," she said. "I was working as waitress in a restaurant, my mom was a waitress in a restaurant. I probably wasn't even going to finish high school. I like myself a lot more now."
Now she wants to pursue a cosmetology license and then eventually become a counselor, she said.
"I think I could help a lot of people," she said.
For Johnson, who has worked with troubled youth for nearly 24 years, giving kids a second chance is his motto.
"A lot of times kids get to come here to be kids," he said. "Some of them have never been to the movies before when the come here. ... We've just got to give them a chance to make positive choices."
Tuesday, July 8, 2008
Creutzfeldt-Jacob Disease
Couple learn to live, laugh as death nears Brain disease leaves Wilson man with only 6 more months of life.
By Julie Bisbee
Staff Writer
THE OKLAHOMAN
Sunday, July 6, 2008
WILSON — After 55 years of marriage, Clara and Don Sparks are learning to do things differently.
They have no choice. A fatal disease apparently is attacking Don Sparks' brain, making it difficult for Sparks, 75, to walk or control his movements.
This man, who spent 50 years of his life working in the oil fields of southern Oklahoma, now relies on his son to carry him to the car and needs help standing up.
These are some of the symptoms of Creutzfeldt-Jakob disease or CJD, the brain disorder that doctors believe Sparks is battling. Doctors can only make the diagnosis based on his symptoms — poor balance, forgetfulness and involuntarily muscle twitches. The only way to be sure of the diagnosis is to test a patient's brain tissue after death. Doctors have told Sparks he has six months to live.
Facing death and his dwindling physical capabilities, Sparks is surprisingly upbeat. He jokes with neighbors, asking them to help him pick out a casket. Most things tickle him, and his chuckle is infectious.
"You can laugh or you can cry," Sparks said. "I like laughing best."
How it began
Clara Sparks, 72, remembers clearly the night her husband's brain began turning on itself. Don was working as a security guard at a nearby casino and called because he couldn't remember how to turn on the computer at work — a task he had done daily since he began working there.
"I knew something was wrong. We have a computer here and he messes with it all the time," she said. "I just told him to get one of the girls to show him how. I knew then that something was getting bad."
Years of hard labor in the oil fields had tangled up the nerves in Don Sparks' back. First his doctors thought that maybe a pinched nerve was causing him to have memory lapses.
The Sparkses went to numerous doctors searching for treatment or an answer.
Finally, they ended up at neurologist's office in Temple, Texas. A doctor looked at an MRI image of Don Sparks' brain and saw a shadow. Then as he asked Sparks to walk down the hall, watching his unsteady stride, the doctor knew, Clara Sparks said.
"He could tell just by the way he was walking what was wrong with him," Clara Sparks said. "He said he didn't want to tell us what it was, but he knew he'd have to sooner or later."
About the disease
Creutzfeldt-Jakob disease is often compared to bovine spongiform encephalopathy, or "mad cow disease." The diseases are similar in how they affect the brain. Eventually, the protein mutation in the brain tissue will eat small holes in the brain tissue, causing damage to the central nervous system.
In cattle, a tell-tale sign of BSE is stumbling and poor balance in the livestock.
The two diseases are related, and a small percentage of Creutzfeldt-Jakob cases can be linked to consuming contaminated beef. However, no cases of Creutzfeldt-Jakob in the United States can be attributed to eating contaminated meat, said Kristy Bradley, state epidemiologist with the Oklahoma Health Department.
In fact, the cause of most cases of Creutzfeldt-Jakob is a mystery. Some cases can be traced through the lineage of family genetics. Other cases appear spontaneously, however, and quickly take hold of a person's life.
Experts say the disease typically hits people over 55. About one out of every 1 million people will be diagnosed with the disease. In Oklahoma, roughly 3.5 million people live in the state, so the state can expect to see an average of three cases of Creutzfeldt-Jakobper each year, Bradley said.
"We've had family clusters of this illness in Oklahoma," Bradley said. "It can be a genetic mutation passed from family member to family member."
Having an autopsy after a person's death is the only way to confirm Creutzfeldt-Jakob disease, Bradley said.
"That final step really needs to be taken to confirm and arrive at the diagnosis," Bradley said. "It's very difficult for families to watch their loved ones slowly deteriorate. But there's an additional reason to encourage families to do the testing. If it's the inherited form of CJD, that could have health implications of other family members."
A long life together
Don and Clara Sparks married young. Don Sparks was dashing and kept rough boys from harassing Clara, who worked at a cafe in Depew. After a few months of dating, Don Sparks left eastern Oklahoma for Marine Corps boot camp.
"I was so mad at him," Clara Sparks said. "He joined and didn't say a thing to me."
But she waited for him to come back, pouring coffee and brushing off the advances of other boys who asked her for dates in Sparks' absence.
Soon after he returned from training at Camp Pendleton, Clara and Don married.
"She talked me into that," Don Sparks said jokingly.
The Sparkses share the same birthday. When they married on a June day, Clara was 15, Don was 19.
"I just always kind of thought we were made for each other," Clara Sparks said.
Staring down death
The couple have three sons and five grandchildren. They've operated a business together and now stare down death together.
In March, doctors told Don Sparks he had six months to live. He's not in pain, and the only physical signs that Sparks' brain is betraying his body is the limited use of his legs and the involuntarily movements of his hands from time to time.
Clara Sparks' sons have told her to be tough and strong, but tears spill down her cheeks as she contemplates life without her husband.
"Used to be, there wasn't nothing he couldn't do or figure out, now he can't remember how to fix stuff," Clara Sparks said. "It's just like being alone without your helper. He's been my helper for 55 years and now he can't help me."
DID YOU KNOW?
How the disease works
Creutzfeldt-Jakob disease affects about one person in 1 million. There are three different types of the disease, in which proteins in the brain grow abnormally and attack the tissue of the brain. Some of the early signs of the disease are balance problems or general confusion.
"The proteins are misfolding and the message is not being delivered," said Florence Kranitz, president of the Ohio-based CJD Foundation. "It could start out very subtly and it then it starts to have a rapid system decline."
Eventually the brain becomes so deteriorated that a person's body forgets how to chew, swallow or breathe.
"They most often sink into a coma," Kranitz said.
Creutzfeldt-Jakob Disease in Oklahoma
In 2003, CJD became a disease that health officials are required to track. In Oklahoma, a total of eight cases have been reported since 2003. The state reports incidents to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention.
Cases reported by year
2003: 1
2004: 1
2005: 4
2006: 1
2007: 1
Source: Oklahoma State Health Department
By Julie Bisbee
Staff Writer
THE OKLAHOMAN
Sunday, July 6, 2008
WILSON — After 55 years of marriage, Clara and Don Sparks are learning to do things differently.
They have no choice. A fatal disease apparently is attacking Don Sparks' brain, making it difficult for Sparks, 75, to walk or control his movements.
This man, who spent 50 years of his life working in the oil fields of southern Oklahoma, now relies on his son to carry him to the car and needs help standing up.
These are some of the symptoms of Creutzfeldt-Jakob disease or CJD, the brain disorder that doctors believe Sparks is battling. Doctors can only make the diagnosis based on his symptoms — poor balance, forgetfulness and involuntarily muscle twitches. The only way to be sure of the diagnosis is to test a patient's brain tissue after death. Doctors have told Sparks he has six months to live.
Facing death and his dwindling physical capabilities, Sparks is surprisingly upbeat. He jokes with neighbors, asking them to help him pick out a casket. Most things tickle him, and his chuckle is infectious.
"You can laugh or you can cry," Sparks said. "I like laughing best."
How it began
Clara Sparks, 72, remembers clearly the night her husband's brain began turning on itself. Don was working as a security guard at a nearby casino and called because he couldn't remember how to turn on the computer at work — a task he had done daily since he began working there.
"I knew something was wrong. We have a computer here and he messes with it all the time," she said. "I just told him to get one of the girls to show him how. I knew then that something was getting bad."
Years of hard labor in the oil fields had tangled up the nerves in Don Sparks' back. First his doctors thought that maybe a pinched nerve was causing him to have memory lapses.
The Sparkses went to numerous doctors searching for treatment or an answer.
Finally, they ended up at neurologist's office in Temple, Texas. A doctor looked at an MRI image of Don Sparks' brain and saw a shadow. Then as he asked Sparks to walk down the hall, watching his unsteady stride, the doctor knew, Clara Sparks said.
"He could tell just by the way he was walking what was wrong with him," Clara Sparks said. "He said he didn't want to tell us what it was, but he knew he'd have to sooner or later."
About the disease
Creutzfeldt-Jakob disease is often compared to bovine spongiform encephalopathy, or "mad cow disease." The diseases are similar in how they affect the brain. Eventually, the protein mutation in the brain tissue will eat small holes in the brain tissue, causing damage to the central nervous system.
In cattle, a tell-tale sign of BSE is stumbling and poor balance in the livestock.
The two diseases are related, and a small percentage of Creutzfeldt-Jakob cases can be linked to consuming contaminated beef. However, no cases of Creutzfeldt-Jakob in the United States can be attributed to eating contaminated meat, said Kristy Bradley, state epidemiologist with the Oklahoma Health Department.
In fact, the cause of most cases of Creutzfeldt-Jakob is a mystery. Some cases can be traced through the lineage of family genetics. Other cases appear spontaneously, however, and quickly take hold of a person's life.
Experts say the disease typically hits people over 55. About one out of every 1 million people will be diagnosed with the disease. In Oklahoma, roughly 3.5 million people live in the state, so the state can expect to see an average of three cases of Creutzfeldt-Jakobper each year, Bradley said.
"We've had family clusters of this illness in Oklahoma," Bradley said. "It can be a genetic mutation passed from family member to family member."
Having an autopsy after a person's death is the only way to confirm Creutzfeldt-Jakob disease, Bradley said.
"That final step really needs to be taken to confirm and arrive at the diagnosis," Bradley said. "It's very difficult for families to watch their loved ones slowly deteriorate. But there's an additional reason to encourage families to do the testing. If it's the inherited form of CJD, that could have health implications of other family members."
A long life together
Don and Clara Sparks married young. Don Sparks was dashing and kept rough boys from harassing Clara, who worked at a cafe in Depew. After a few months of dating, Don Sparks left eastern Oklahoma for Marine Corps boot camp.
"I was so mad at him," Clara Sparks said. "He joined and didn't say a thing to me."
But she waited for him to come back, pouring coffee and brushing off the advances of other boys who asked her for dates in Sparks' absence.
Soon after he returned from training at Camp Pendleton, Clara and Don married.
"She talked me into that," Don Sparks said jokingly.
The Sparkses share the same birthday. When they married on a June day, Clara was 15, Don was 19.
"I just always kind of thought we were made for each other," Clara Sparks said.
Staring down death
The couple have three sons and five grandchildren. They've operated a business together and now stare down death together.
In March, doctors told Don Sparks he had six months to live. He's not in pain, and the only physical signs that Sparks' brain is betraying his body is the limited use of his legs and the involuntarily movements of his hands from time to time.
Clara Sparks' sons have told her to be tough and strong, but tears spill down her cheeks as she contemplates life without her husband.
"Used to be, there wasn't nothing he couldn't do or figure out, now he can't remember how to fix stuff," Clara Sparks said. "It's just like being alone without your helper. He's been my helper for 55 years and now he can't help me."
DID YOU KNOW?
How the disease works
Creutzfeldt-Jakob disease affects about one person in 1 million. There are three different types of the disease, in which proteins in the brain grow abnormally and attack the tissue of the brain. Some of the early signs of the disease are balance problems or general confusion.
"The proteins are misfolding and the message is not being delivered," said Florence Kranitz, president of the Ohio-based CJD Foundation. "It could start out very subtly and it then it starts to have a rapid system decline."
Eventually the brain becomes so deteriorated that a person's body forgets how to chew, swallow or breathe.
"They most often sink into a coma," Kranitz said.
Creutzfeldt-Jakob Disease in Oklahoma
In 2003, CJD became a disease that health officials are required to track. In Oklahoma, a total of eight cases have been reported since 2003. The state reports incidents to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention.
Cases reported by year
2003: 1
2004: 1
2005: 4
2006: 1
2007: 1
Source: Oklahoma State Health Department
Friday, June 27, 2008
Recent Work
Crime: Victims uncooperative with investigators School sex scandal leaves Vian divided
By Julie Bisbee
Staff Writer
THE OKLAHOMAN
Sunday, May 18, 2008
VIAN — There's hardly a stranger in Vian. Folks wave to each other on county roads that crisscross the hilly countryside. People cheer for each others' kids from T-ball through high school.
It's a quiet town set between the hills of western Sequoyah County. But in the wake of the resignation of two teachers, both Vian High School graduates, the town is split.
Jennifer Cowart, 35 and Tracy Ann Boshers, 34, are under investigation for alleged inappropriate relationships with male students at the high school. They resigned just before termination hearings were to proceed by the school district. The district, which was prepared to air the results of its investigation, accepted the resignations to avoid ongoing litigation, Superintendent Lawrence Barnes said.
Vian Police Chief Danny Hoover began a sexual battery investigation. No arrests have been made and no charges have been filed.
Earlier this month, the case was reviewed by the Sequoyah County district attorney's office and sent back to Hoover for more investigation. Hoover has since turned the investigation over to the Oklahoma State Bureau of Investigation.
'All that we know is just hearsay'
To some, the allegations against the former teachers carry weight and illustrate what they say is a longstanding practice of female teachers having relationships with boys who are juniors and seniors in high school.
Others say the allegations are just a way to damage the careers of teachers who have been dedicated to the school district for years.
Attorneys for both women did not return calls seeking comment.
The issue has the town 1,500 picking sides.
"This has split up our community forever," said Joe Simon, who has two sons in school and owns Vian's only hardware store. "We didn't get to have the hearing. If we would have, maybe we would know the facts. Now all that we know is just hearsay. This is a tight community, and it has been pretty tough on us."
Not many locals want to talk publicly about the allegations that two former high school teachers had relationships with high school boys.
An affidavit for a search warrant, filed by Hoover in April, has witnesses saying that Boshers sent sexual text messages to cell phones of high school boys. One boy told police that Boshers performed oral sex on him at the school and in her vehicle.
"I knew that she had sex with another student, so why not me," the former Vian student told police. "She put off the vibes. I hit her up about it, and she did it."
Few of the boys are speaking with police about suspected relationships with Boshers. During his investigation, Hoover requested copies of Boshers's phone records and text messages.
Many students and former students haven't cooperated with the police investigation of Boshers, a popular teacher who once coached a decorated cheerleading squad and is the daughter of the school district's business manager.
One mother's quest
When Cara Mosby's son seemed distraught about a relationship during his junior year of high school, she reassured him. When she realized he was upset about a relationship he said he was having with a married teacher at school, she took a different course.
"I had to sit him down at the kitchen table and tell him why he couldn't be in love with this teacher," she said. "I told him to take care of it, and if he wouldn't I would."
In 2005, after she found a poem that had been put in her son's locker and signed by two female teachers, Mosby went to the school.
In a November 2005 letter to former Vian High School principal Bob Thomas, Mosby said that her son "told me of previous sexually related advances and comments made to him. .... I am seriously concerned."
Mosby said nothing seemed to be done to address her concerns.
Superintendent Barnes said he didn't see a copy of the letter until recently and that any disciplinary action that might have come from the 2005 letter would be confidential.
Barnes said he's certain Thomas took disciplinary action.
"We weren't able to substantiate anything at that time," Barnes said. "The difference this time around is that some of the kids are stepping forward. At the time the letter was received, the boys weren't talking."
Mosby said she took her concerns to the police department as well, and nothing was done.
"They just acted like it was OK," Mosby said. "It was like everybody knew about this, and nobody wanted to talk about it."
Since then, Hoover has been hired as chief. The previous police chief, Jeremy Floyd, has been arrested on complaints of theft and embezzlement.
Meanwhile, Mosby took action to protect her son.
"For a year, I made my son stay in the truck with me until two minutes before school started, then he could go inside," said Mosby. "I'd be here as soon as school got out. He didn't have time to be messing around or doing something he shouldn't have been."
For Mosby, it was a relief when her son graduated, but what happened haunted her.
"I was so relieved he wouldn't have to go back there," she said. "I put it in God's hands, but I felt bad. I knew there would be other students that might have to go through something like this."
Is it legal?
In Vian, two former teachers are accused of having inappropriate relationships with students. At this point in the investigation, it is believed that all of the possible victims were 16 or older.
In Oklahoma, the age of consent is 16. The Vian Police Department investigated complaints of sexual battery against the teachers.
A charge of sexual battery is used when a person in authority or a supervisor touches or feels someone in a lewd manner, according to state statute.
By Julie Bisbee
Staff Writer
THE OKLAHOMAN
Sunday, May 18, 2008
VIAN — There's hardly a stranger in Vian. Folks wave to each other on county roads that crisscross the hilly countryside. People cheer for each others' kids from T-ball through high school.
It's a quiet town set between the hills of western Sequoyah County. But in the wake of the resignation of two teachers, both Vian High School graduates, the town is split.
Jennifer Cowart, 35 and Tracy Ann Boshers, 34, are under investigation for alleged inappropriate relationships with male students at the high school. They resigned just before termination hearings were to proceed by the school district. The district, which was prepared to air the results of its investigation, accepted the resignations to avoid ongoing litigation, Superintendent Lawrence Barnes said.
Vian Police Chief Danny Hoover began a sexual battery investigation. No arrests have been made and no charges have been filed.
Earlier this month, the case was reviewed by the Sequoyah County district attorney's office and sent back to Hoover for more investigation. Hoover has since turned the investigation over to the Oklahoma State Bureau of Investigation.
'All that we know is just hearsay'
To some, the allegations against the former teachers carry weight and illustrate what they say is a longstanding practice of female teachers having relationships with boys who are juniors and seniors in high school.
Others say the allegations are just a way to damage the careers of teachers who have been dedicated to the school district for years.
Attorneys for both women did not return calls seeking comment.
The issue has the town 1,500 picking sides.
"This has split up our community forever," said Joe Simon, who has two sons in school and owns Vian's only hardware store. "We didn't get to have the hearing. If we would have, maybe we would know the facts. Now all that we know is just hearsay. This is a tight community, and it has been pretty tough on us."
Not many locals want to talk publicly about the allegations that two former high school teachers had relationships with high school boys.
An affidavit for a search warrant, filed by Hoover in April, has witnesses saying that Boshers sent sexual text messages to cell phones of high school boys. One boy told police that Boshers performed oral sex on him at the school and in her vehicle.
"I knew that she had sex with another student, so why not me," the former Vian student told police. "She put off the vibes. I hit her up about it, and she did it."
Few of the boys are speaking with police about suspected relationships with Boshers. During his investigation, Hoover requested copies of Boshers's phone records and text messages.
Many students and former students haven't cooperated with the police investigation of Boshers, a popular teacher who once coached a decorated cheerleading squad and is the daughter of the school district's business manager.
One mother's quest
When Cara Mosby's son seemed distraught about a relationship during his junior year of high school, she reassured him. When she realized he was upset about a relationship he said he was having with a married teacher at school, she took a different course.
"I had to sit him down at the kitchen table and tell him why he couldn't be in love with this teacher," she said. "I told him to take care of it, and if he wouldn't I would."
In 2005, after she found a poem that had been put in her son's locker and signed by two female teachers, Mosby went to the school.
In a November 2005 letter to former Vian High School principal Bob Thomas, Mosby said that her son "told me of previous sexually related advances and comments made to him. .... I am seriously concerned."
Mosby said nothing seemed to be done to address her concerns.
Superintendent Barnes said he didn't see a copy of the letter until recently and that any disciplinary action that might have come from the 2005 letter would be confidential.
Barnes said he's certain Thomas took disciplinary action.
"We weren't able to substantiate anything at that time," Barnes said. "The difference this time around is that some of the kids are stepping forward. At the time the letter was received, the boys weren't talking."
Mosby said she took her concerns to the police department as well, and nothing was done.
"They just acted like it was OK," Mosby said. "It was like everybody knew about this, and nobody wanted to talk about it."
Since then, Hoover has been hired as chief. The previous police chief, Jeremy Floyd, has been arrested on complaints of theft and embezzlement.
Meanwhile, Mosby took action to protect her son.
"For a year, I made my son stay in the truck with me until two minutes before school started, then he could go inside," said Mosby. "I'd be here as soon as school got out. He didn't have time to be messing around or doing something he shouldn't have been."
For Mosby, it was a relief when her son graduated, but what happened haunted her.
"I was so relieved he wouldn't have to go back there," she said. "I put it in God's hands, but I felt bad. I knew there would be other students that might have to go through something like this."
Is it legal?
In Vian, two former teachers are accused of having inappropriate relationships with students. At this point in the investigation, it is believed that all of the possible victims were 16 or older.
In Oklahoma, the age of consent is 16. The Vian Police Department investigated complaints of sexual battery against the teachers.
A charge of sexual battery is used when a person in authority or a supervisor touches or feels someone in a lewd manner, according to state statute.
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
This is in progress.
Stay tuned for more updates. Soon this will include media clips and a resume. Soon!
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