Confessions of A Whistle Blower (Part 2 of 3)

Board members began to take notice of his behavior, yet did nothing.  In May 2002, the ED attended a five day grant conference in San Juan, Puerto Rico.  I later found out he met his son on the island, and I seriously doubt he even attended the actual conference, which was paid for by grant funds (our tax dollars).  During the Beltway sniper incident, on a daily basis he made comments that were more suited for a sporting event.  He tried to engage the staff in an analytical review of the snipers activity, but no one wanted to participate.  That's when I started getting telephone calls from Board members, asking me to comment on the ED's mental health.  My response to them, "If you have to ask me, then you already know there is a problem."
Things finally came to a head in mid-December, when we received advice from one Board member who felt it was time to deal with the situation.  He advised us to prepare a memo to the Executive Committee expressing our concern about the future of the organization, but the memo had to be signed, preferably by the two senior staff members.  While my co-worker's glanced at one another and nervously shifted their weight, without hesitation I said, "I'll sign it."  Everyone just fell in after that and we executed the plan one week before the next scheduled Executive Committee meeting.
On the day of the Executive meeting, a Board member showed up at the office an hour early.  I knew why he was early; he was one Board member I could trust.  He was one Board member who had called asking me to comment on the ED's mental health.  He knew about the memo we had signed.  And now he wanted some answers.  He walked into my office, propped his arms on the filing cabinet next to my desk, looked me straight in the eye and asked, "How are things going?"
The time for silence was over.  I let out a sigh, looked at my office mate, then at him.  "There are three things you need to understand."
"Okay," he responded.
"First of all, he's my boss," I said.
"I know," he replied.
"Over the past seven years, I have worked very hard to earn the respect and trust of the Board, the staff and many others.  And I do not wish to engage in any activity that would harm, diminish or otherwise minimize what I have worked so hard to earn."
"You won't," he said.
Out came another sigh.  "This isn't easy...in fact, it sucks."
"I know, but you've got to talk to me.  Tell me what is going on."
My office mate took that as her cue to leave.  I followed her, shut the office door, faced him, and spilled the beans.  Everything came out.  I won't go into all the sordid details, but when I finished, it was clear the organization was headed for a financial train wreck.  Soon.
"Can you prove this?" he asked.
"Yes. It's all documented," I assured him.
"Put together a written report citing everything," he instructed me as he started out the door, "I'll be back in three days to pick it up.  Tell the rest of the staff to prepare one as well."
Throughout the meeting later, before and after my monthly financial report, I thought about what I had done, what I would say in my report.  I really don't remember the meeting itself, it was just a blur; all I could think of as I sat across from the ED was whether this would back-fire in my face, or if it would compel the powers that be to finally deal with the problem.
Three days later the staff reports were picked up while the ED sat at his desk, casually chatting with his daughter on the phone.  The following week, on New Year's Eve, the shit hit the fan.
(To be continued)