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Mark D Ray died in Washington County, December 15, 2003.
Peer into a tiny concrete room deep inside the Washington County Jail in Hillsboro and you will see, hear and smell unimaginable human suffering.
A 43-year-old mentally ill man howls and paces his cell. He can’t open his eyes, doused with pepper spray by nervous and frustrated jail deputies.
Why don’t you just kill me! Kill me now!” the man screams. Snot seeps into his mouth. Expletives lunge off cinder-block walls.
The man’s legs are red and distorted with infection. Yellow pus weeps from shin wounds the size of half dollars, gouged with his own fingernails. Straps from a nearby restraint chair have branded ominous purple marks around his ankles.
Mark Douglas Ray is hard to look at. But look. There’s a Mark Ray in every jail in the state.
The delusional Benton County inmate who sang for 48 hours. A man with schizophrenia in The Dalles who throws rocks through church windows so he can go back to a cell, the only place he feels safe. A 54-year-old woman with bipolar disorder at the Multnomah County Justice Center, curled naked in the fetal position, calling for her mother.
Ray has cycled through jail 10 times in the past 12 months. He is among tens of thousands of mentally ill people nationwide who have found themselves behind bars in large part because they can’t get medical treatment. The problem is an unintended consequence of a calculated effort to rectify a similar horror.
“Deinstitutionalization” was a nationwide social reform that sought to improve the lives of mentally ill people by treating them in their communities instead of isolating them in dehumanizing, state-run hospitals.
But the services that have replaced thousands of hospital beds the past four decades are underfunded, restrictive and confusing, leaving many who have serious mental illnesses adrift until they wind up in another institution — jail.
On the fourth day in December, the problem lands in the unlikely hands of a 31-year-old Washington County deputy armed with nothing but a community college psychology course and a better-than-average attitude.
Peter Moseler took this job to protect the public from the bad guys.
So on days when it takes nothing short of nine deputies, three sergeants, pepper spray and a stun gun to get Ray , a 6-foot 3-inch, 300-plus-pound mentally ill man, into an isolation cell, the gentle, determined Moseler can’t help but feel like a bad guy himself.
Moseler can argue the inherent inhumanity of a system that leaves the work of doctors to him. But with Oregon staring down a possible $900 million budget shortfall, the debate doesn’t budge beyond decimal points.
Consider the price tag for Ray ‘s six jail stays in Washington County in 2001. Excess staff time: $40,376. Hospital bills: $45,183. Medications: $8,100. Repairs to jail property Ray has broken: $390. Repeated clean up of biohazards — blood, feces and urine: $421.
The cost to house the average inmate for 81 days: $7,243.
The cost for Mark Ray : $101,713.
Many doctors have offered many explanations for many years. Schizophrenia. Schizo-affective disorder. Bipolar disorder. Borderline personality disorder. Borderline intelligence. Major depression.
Ray forgot the name of the bank that holds his last $10. He’s been in jail so much lately he lost his Oregon Health Plan benefits, and the federal government halted his $500 monthly Social Security disability checks. He has hepatitis B and C.
Ray ‘s been banned from several grocery stores, the MAX line and his favorite karaoke bar, the Jungle Room Tavern in Cornelius. He’s homeless. The leg infection has reduced him to hobbling.
An IQ that has tested four points below the cutoff for mental retardation doesn’t short-circuit Ray ‘s understanding of the situation.
“I probably need to go back to the state hospital, but nowadays they keep crazy people in jail,” Ray says.
His illnesses have sent him to hospital mental wards more than 20 times since 1981. He once spent two years at the Oregon State Hospital in Salem.
In October, after jail deputies watched Ray eat his own feces, a judge ordered him back to a state hospital. But four days after Ray arrived, a psychiatrist deemed that he wasn’t actively psychotic. He was sent back to jail.
David Otter, a Washington County mental health worker, says diagnosing people with as many problems as Ray is like peering through different facets of a gem. Through one facet you’ll see the flaw. Through another, you won’t.
Today, Ray ‘s in jail for allegedly buying beer for two 15-year-olds at a Safeway in Forest Grove.
Two days earlier he was arrested for misusing the 9-1-1 system after summoning officers to his Jungle Room bar stool and asking them for a ride because his legs hurt.
Before that, the charge was second-degree criminal trespass for panhandling cigarettes outside Tuality Community Hospital in Hillsboro and refusing to leave.
Before that, disorderly conduct and second-degree criminal mischief for pounding on the door of a Gales Creek home at 3:35 a.m. because he thought his mother lived there.
And before that, disorderly conduct and carrying a concealed weapon. Ray, agitated and screaming on a street corner, challenged Hillsboro police to a fight, saying he had a “fifth-degree black belt in Tae Kwon Do.” Officers later found a steak knife in his coat pocket.
Ray spent March through September in the Justice Center jail after a judge revoked his probation on a drug possession charge. Ray admits he prefers heroin to his anti-psychotic prescriptions.
But what brings Ray to jail is rarely as disturbing as his behavior once there.
Files stamped with his name bulge in the records rooms of two county jails. Ray’s been written up for everything from tearing holes in his own flesh and spitting out his medications to jeering at other inmates and vowing to kill jail staff. He’s elevated the use of expletives to an art form.
In Washington County, Ray has spent more time in the restraint chair than any other inmate in memory. At the Justice Center, Ray ‘s uncooperative ways were answered with more than 100 days in “the hole” and occasionally nothing to eat but Nutraloaf — a concoction of pureed vegetables, meat, lard, egg and powdered milk, baked hard so it can’t stick to walls if thrown. Ray lost 150 pounds, down from almost 500.
Although Ray now illustrates the failure of mental health reform, there was a time, not so long ago, he could have been its poster child.
In November 1997, a judge sent Ray to the Oregon State Hospital in Salem after he threatened to commit suicide, holding police at bay and a knife to his throat for more than four hours at his Beaverton apartment. That one, Ray recalls proudly, made the evening news.
After eight months, Ray was released in June 1998 into the capable hands of licensed professional counselor Debbie Cairns. Her title is program director for Tualatin Valley Center’s Open Gate. Her job is to translate the philosophic intent of politicians into the rock-real circumstances of the mentally ill.
With Cairns’ help, Ray got a studio apartment in Forest Grove, kept cans in his cupboards, balanced his checkbook, swallowed his pills, joined an exercise group, opened up during group therapy and held down a job taking apart used computers — for more than two years.
Things were going so well that Ray decided he didn’t need his medications. “We tried to talk him out of it,” Cairns says. “But it was his right to stop.” Only psychiatric hospitals can force medications.
Ray’s decision to flex his civil rights came about the same time a welfare worker’s eyes fixed on a paperwork error. Since Ray ‘s hospital release, Oregon had accidentally been too generous with his monthly food stamps. By the time the bureaucracy adjusted Ray ‘s benefits and penalized him for the clerical error, he could afford either groceries or his $400 rent.
With Ray biding time on his mother’s couch, Cairns scrambled to find him another place to live. But a nearby halfway house was full, and Ray ‘s 1983 conviction for auto theft in Texas made him ineligible for subsidized housing.
Ray nose-dived before Cairns could type a letter arguing that his felony sprang from mental illness and should be overlooked.
One day you’re a deinstitutionalization success story.
The next you’re bloodying your forehead on a jail cell cinder block, reeling from a blast of pepper spray.
High-five your sergeant! Crack open a Mountain Dew! Mark Ray is a free man today. Washington County Jail deputies, usually a stoic lot, celebrate.
At 9:23 a.m. on Dec. 13, after 11 days and eight incident reports, Ray ‘s 10th incarceration this year grinds, sparks flying, to an end. After all, one can be held only so long on a nuisance crime.
But Deputy Moseler’s relief is Joel Robison’s nightmare.
Robison, Ray ‘s resourceful Washington County parole officer, is fresh out of ideas when he arrives to pick up Ray , who can barely limp the 150 yards separating maximum security from the street.
A legal advocacy center in Washington, D.C., investigated public health systems in 35 states, including Oregon, and concluded what Robison knew long before there was paper proof: There isn’t enough money invested to meet mental health needs.
In real life, that makes Ray a hot potato.
Robison loads Ray, whining and swearing, into a county Crown Victoria and zips optimistically east on the Sunset Highway. Robison can buy time if Providence St. Vincent’s Hospital will admit Ray .
Before one swollen foot lands on emergency room tile, a nurse recognizes Ray and glares at Robison.
Jail deputies had taken Ray to the hospital Oct. 14 for a mental health evaluation after he smeared blood from his legs over his cell walls. The hospital sent him back saying they didn’t have enough secure bed space.
But it admitted him Nov. 22 for the leg infection. Because Ray was in jail, Washington County was responsible for his hospital bills and keeping deputies outside his room 24-7. After five days, and overtime costs that passed $30,000, jail officials begged Robison to shorten Ray ‘s parole violation sanction if only to save taxpayer money.
An hour after the deputies were relieved, Ray was discharged with a bottle of antibiotics and a taxi voucher.
Ray rode directly back to the Hillsboro jail and parked himself in the lobby, asking for food, juice, medical attention and, after several hours, a place to sleep. Robison found him a bed at the Joyce Hotel in Portland, but Ray threw a fit and was asked to leave. That night he wandered the streets.
St. Vincent’s admitted Ray for his leg problem again Nov. 29. But he was so nasty to staff that a doctor asked him to sign a special list of rules. Ray , irked and agitated, pulled out his IVs and left against medical advice.
In the face of all this, Robison plows ahead.
He may need to stay overnight, Robison tells a nurse. Look at his leg. It’s disgusting.
I’m not a doctor, but it looks pretty bad, Robison presses on.
No way, Jose. A fresh bandage wrap and he’s good to go.
To Robison, all this is an absurdist government exercise that amounts to persuading strangers to invest major effort in a person so difficult he’s driven his own mother into hiding.
Robison last talked to Ray ‘s 66-year-old mother April 5, the same day four jail deputies and two sergeants spent 35 minutes wrestling her son into a black restraint chair.
“Why can’t you get him hospitalized?” Robison remembers her pleading.
She left a message on Robison’s voice mail Sept. 14 but wouldn’t leave her unlisted phone number. She promised to call back. So far she hasn’t.
Today that door is Room 112 of the Travelodge in downtown Hillsboro, a block from a Goodwill store.
Even though Robison’s most impressive smooth-talking couldn’t sway nurses, he caught his boss in a particularly festive mood during the holiday office party and got the go-ahead to put Ray up in a motel.
Debbie Cairns agreed to try again, too. But finding Ray a permanent home will be a monumental task and getting his SSI and medical benefits reinstated will take time. At 48 bucks a night, the clock is ticking.
It didn’t get off to a good start. It was raining when they arrived at the hotel, and Ray wouldn’t walk across the parking lot. So Robison, on hands and knees, wrapped garbage bags around Ray ‘s legs to protect his fresh bandages from puddles. Then Ray leaned on Robison like a bowling ball against a bird as Robison heaved him into the avocado green glory of Room 112.
Robison set down a batch of Rice Krispie bars left over from the office party, and Cairns left a bag of odds and ends she grabbed from an emergency food pantry — fortune cookies, tortilla chips and canned peaches.
Ray has nothing but the clothes on his back, an XXXL shirt the color of a queasy Tweety Bird and frayed jeans slung precariously low. The inside of his pants is soiled but Ray bluntly says that he’s “gotten used to it.” He has one shoe.
A bubble pack of medication rests on the wood-grain Formica motel table. Risperdal for psychosis. Clonidine for aggression. Carbamazepine for bipolar disorder. And Celexa for depression — all prescribed by jail medical staff.
Shaky is an idealistic way to describe this situation. Even if everything goes smoothly — which it never does — Robison knows Ray isn’t long for the Travelodge, with its Christmas lights pulsing innocently in the lobby window.
But this job has taught Robison to live in the present. And right now, late on the 13th of December, at least Ray has somewhere to be.
Maybe, just maybe, he’ll sit tight, stay off his leg and revel in the creature comforts of HBO and a remote control until Cairns can reconnect him to his benefits.
Ray screams and swears at Robison and a mental health worker when they bring him sandwiches and a clean pair of sweat pants.
A nurse scheduled to change Ray ‘s leg bandage backs out, too scared to go to his room alone.
Ray saunters six blocks from the Travelodge to Tuality Community Hospital, where he’s been arrested before. A doctor takes one look at Ray’s oozing leg and admits him. But after two nights, Ray checks himself out, angrily saying he “hates the nurses.” He treads back to the Travelodge, blood and pus spotting the sidewalk behind him.
Then Ray sneaks onto the MAX train, rides to the jail and retrieves his mountain bike from the criminal property room.
He pedals all over Hillsboro: To banks, until he finds his $10 at Wells Fargo. To McDonald’s for their $3.09 special holiday double chili burger combo. To Plaid Pantry for two packs of generic cigarettes and a pepper beef stick. To a park. Back to the hotel.
When Cairns shows up, Ray is in no mood for particulars, like why he’s several bubbles behind in his medications. He says he’s going to kill himself.
Robison’s phone shrills. Cairns says she can’t do anything for someone who refuses help. For now, she says, he’s not appropriate for her program.
Robison’s phone shrills again. It’s Ray, barking that he’s going to kill someone so he can get heroin.
Robison has 40 other mentally ill people on his caseload. Several are in worse shape than Ray , men in their early 20s experiencing their first schizophrenic break.
Ray , on the other hand, tells Robison, but not in these words, to get lost.
Without a mental health agency willing to work with Ray , there will be no one to prescribe his medications. So Robison types up a parole-violation detainer with a 25-day jail sanction for refusing mental health treatment. Police are dispatched to the Travelodge.
It’s Ray ‘s 11th jail stay in the past 12 months. But at least he has access to meds, if he chooses to take them.
The next day, Robison allows himself to sink into what-if land.
It’s hard to think ahead when you’re busy getting by.
Sitting on the steel toilet in his jail cell, feet stinging in a puddle of urine, Ray ‘s thoughts don’t extend beyond a momentary worry. He shouts through the glass in his maximum-security cell. He hasn’t heard from his mother in a long time. It’s weird, he says, because Christmas is so close.

industry_corpus2: Health & Medicine


text: We are deep into winter now and though I have just published a book about some positive aspects of this cold season, a big negative still remains, namely, flu. Many of our loved ones have had or currently have the flu. While our family and church community remain in constant prayer for the sick we are taking precautions to remain healthy as well. Less handshaking, less beard stroking (this one is particularly difficult), more hand washing, more dietary preventatives like elderberries. Besides the fact that the elderberry sounds incredibly epic and akin to the Elder Wand from that book series about wizards, it is also epically powerful. Elderberries have more vitamin C than oranges and they have been used throughout history to treat ailments ranging from the flu to cancer! In addition to watching our children twice a week so that JoAlison and I can spend time alone together, my mother is really good at making healthy choices about food! She comes from a long line of Appalachian Mountain folk that have learned to harness the benefits of God’s green earth for the betterment of His image-bearers. A timeless craft, to be sure! She came to church last Sunday bearing gifts in the form of elderberry syrup and jam to keep the Higgins family on the up and up. It works like a natural Tamiflu. We are very thankful!


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This article is about the coastal park. For the marine national park, see Discovery Bay Marine National Park.
The Discovery Bay Coastal Park is a linear protected area of coastal land in western Victoria, south-eastern Australia. The 10,460-hectare (25,800-acre) park extends along the coast of Discovery Bay from Cape Nelson north-westwards for 50 kilometres (31 mi) to the border with South Australia. The park was listed on Australia’s now-defunct Register of the National Estate, and lies within the traditional lands of the Gunditjmara people.
After being recommended as a coastal reserve in 1973 by Victoria’s Land Conservation Council, the park was first included in Schedule 3 of the Victorian National Parks Act in 1979, with an area of 84.5 square kilometres (32.6 sq mi). Additional parcels of land were acquired in 1981, 1987 and 1997.
Geologically the area is basalt overlain by limestone with the coastal landforms characterised by the rugged cliffs and headlands of Cape Nelson and Cape Bridgewater, dunefields, and by swamps and freshwater lakes further inland. The limestone contains mammalian fossil deposits of Pleistocene age.
Some 320 native vascular plant species have been recorded in the park. An important wetland is Long Swamp, fed by a groundwater aquifer, where declining water levels have led to encroachment by bare twig-sedge (Baumea sp.) whose seeds are a favoured food of the ground parrot. As water levels continue to decline, Woolly Tea-tree is beginning to colonise formerly sedge-dominated areas. The swamp’s sedge habitat is also an important site for an endangered damselfly, the ancient greenling.
The park forms much of the Discovery Bay to Piccaninnie Ponds Important Bird Area, identified by BirdLife International as being of global significance for several bird species. Two threatened birds, the hooded plover and little tern, nest on the beaches. The ground parrot, Australasian bittern and brolga frequent the wetlands while the orange-bellied parrot, rufous bristlebird, striated fieldwren and beautiful firetail have been recorded in the dunes and shrublands. Threatened fish species, include the Yarra pygmy perch and dwarf galaxias. Mammals found in the park include the long-nosed potoroo, heath mouse and swamp antechinus. There are Australian fur seal colonies on rock platforms at Capes Nelson and Bridgewater.
^ "Glenelg Estuary and Discovery Bay Ramsar Site". Ramsar Sites Information Service. Retrieved 25 April 2018.
^ a b c d e "Discovery Bay Parks – Management Plan" (PDF). Parks Victoria (PDF). Melbourne: Government of Victoria. April 2004. ISBN 0-7311-8335-5. Archived from the original (PDF) on 2011-04-06.
^ Chapman, John (9 October 2011). "Great South West Walk". Victorian bushwalking. Laburnum: John Chapman. Retrieved 21 August 2014.
^ "Glenelg Estuary and Discovery Bay Ramsar Site" (PDF). Ramsar Convention Secretriat. 28 February 2018. Retrieved 22 September 2018.
^ Richter, Reiner (18 June 2010). "Discovery of New Populations of Hemiphlebia mirabilis (Ancient Greenling)" (PDF) (PDF). Reiner Richter. Retrieved 24 March 2011.
^ "IBA: Discovery Bay to Piccaninnie Ponds". Birdata. Birds Australia. Archived from the original on 6 July 2011. Retrieved 18 June 2011.
This page was last edited on 22 September 2018, at 02:53 (UTC).

industry_corpus2: Others


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How good is your BB Company’s PR? Does the local community know the range of activities you provide, or do people not really know what the BB has to offer?
Public Relations is important as it helps ensure that the wider public gets to hear positive stories about the organisation and gains a much better idea of the work it does. Word of mouth can be a really effective tool, but using the likes of newspapers, local radio, websites and social media make it possible for a great BB news story to reach a new and wider audience.
Naturally your programme will be full of good news stories – whether it’s becoming Battalion football champions, or an individual achieving their Queen’s Badge. People love to hear about other people, so communicating a message about an event, experience or accomplishment and why it mattered to them is almost always very compelling. Ask yourself what makes the story stand out – for example, “1st Felden wins Badminton Trophy” isn’t quite as exciting as “1st Felden wins Badminton Trophy for first time in ten years”.
If you’re posting an update online, or sending a press release to the local radio station, think about who you are aiming your story at. Is it other young people, or perhaps parents & carers? Whatever your target audience, that will probably affect which medium you opt to use. Some groups of people would be more likely to find out about something on Twitter, rather than from the local newspaper. Will your audience understand BB terminology? If the answer’s no, then consider what changes you need to make.
Newsletters/Magazines - Many Companies produce a regular newsletter and magazine to highlight the various exciting news and events during the BB session. Is this something your Seniors could take the lead on?
Visits - Why not get in touch with your local newspaper or broadcaster to arrange a closer look into what makes the news?
When sharing video, photos or stories of people, it’s important that parental consent has been given.
Always get approval from your Company Captain or setup a process which you follow to check that you’re story is on message before publishing – remember that you’ll be representing both your Company and Church.
Importantly, be creative, sound like a human and have fun!


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session to take your game to the next level!
and receive a custom NHLA Camps and Clinics jersey plus a fitted hat.
Not sure of your schedule? Reserve a spot 24 hours in advance.
*Session sizes have been capped to ensure that each athlete receives maximum attention.
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Investment: Full week $300 (HST included).
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Can you score in tight quarters?
Is your release quick enough to beat goaltenders on a consistent basis?

industry_corpus2: Sports


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Edwin Haynes is a multimillion-dollar earner in network marketing with a growing organization of a quarter million people worldwide. Yet this is only one of the multiple businesses in Edwin’s portfolio. While he’s all about diversification, he has a special love for direct sales: he knows the value of residual income, but what he values even more is how the business requires people to change and grow.—J.G.
Tell us about your life do prior to network marketing.
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