Providing quality observations to the community takes a lot of time and work

Marion County Fire Rescue paramedics arriving on the scene at 3:52 a shooting at the Paddock Mall. They entered before the building was cleared by law enforcement on the scene and thirteen minutes from the first shot. [Jennifer Hunt Murty/Ocala Gazette] 2023.

In my line of work, it’s never a surprise when the topics we choose to investigate ruffle some feathers.

To become a local news leader, I often learned my ropes by studying the work of others. I’ve made no secret that I’m a regular reader of the Wall Street Journal. Every morning, over at least six cups of coffee, I get my short window of worldly news before I set off to focus and care only about Ocala/Marion.

I remember having this “I want us to be this good” moment reading news commentary the morning of May 26, 2021 by Wall Street Journal journalists Nancy A. Youssef and Gordon Lubold informing the public that in Biden’s speech unveiling the U.S. withdrawal from Afghanistan, returning to talks over the nuclear agreement, was “to free up resources for Asia.”

The authors pointed out that Asian allies were taking note that the U.S. “could always have to move its resources back to the middle east” thus leaving them more vulnerable.

“The U.S. military is drafting plans for supporting Afghan national security forces from afar—rather than with personnel on the ground—including keeping ships and aircraft in the Gulf region. The decision to move the Reagan out of the Asia-Pacific region suggests those plans could strain U.S. commitments elsewhere,” the authors wrote.

At the time, I was less than a year into news, and I thought to myself, I want to be that good on a local level. I want to understand how everything relates, identify weak points, so that when information about hard decisions was being presented to my neighbors, I could give added context.

Now, as we reach the milestone of four years of the “Gazette,” I carry this philosophy with me. I am honest about my limitations. I had one leg up on my ability to do legal research, ask quality questions and was fairly savvy on how to navigate the government— but there was one area I had to learn: the way the infrastructure works in the city and county we call home.

So, “Gazette” reporters would get a lot of assignments like “go see about this” and report on it, asking why certain policies are in place. We were building a base of information that we could keep referencing in the stories to come. We were educating you, the public, just as much as we were educating ourselves.

It led to several valuable stories for the public and elected officials that showed how the government is structured versus how it actually works, or often the intentions of government versus the actions of its staff.

To play a watchdog role, we needed to understand this cause and effect—so we could recognize what needed to be brought to light.

Some question my motives and feel the extra context was too critical of local leaders.

To give you context, I’ll explain how we started reporting on 911 emergency communications. I’m sharing it so that we build trust with the people who impute bad motives to the reporting and so the readers can gauge how they should weigh the source. Because in this particular instance, I became a source in my own reporting. Not ideal, but I think my accounts provide valuable testimony.

About a year and a half into publishing news, I started interacting with community leaders who serve vulnerable populations. They told me they had a hard time getting law enforcement to respond quickly, or sometimes at all. Then, it was primarily related to the west side of Ocala.

As often happens, I filed the information away at the time since it wasn’t the story I was working on.

About six months later, I started understanding how often medics are on scene before law enforcement. Because they are unarmed first responders, they sometimes have to wait for law enforcement to clear scenes before they can enter to give aid. I know that this is a common issue first responders face, but lament that the logistics challenge can’t be better overcome.

I continued to hear logistical complaints about response times. The community alerted me more times than I took notes of.

Then, Dec. 23, 2023, at 3:38 p.m. I’m in the Paddock Mall shooting and watch someone fire a gun into a crowd ten feet from me.

It was at least 8 minutes from when I heard the first shot to when I saw a lone police officer arrive on the scene; and 11 minutes before paramedics entered the building.

How do I know that? Because I had to call 911 and then hang up, realizing the shooter was still nearby shooting and might turn towards the noise. The 911 call taker who answered that call, called me right back. I could not speak with shots still ringing and declined the call. I texted the police chief, Michael Balken, as soon as I hung up. I have the phone records and text messages to prove all my timing—it wasn’t the figment of a frazzled memory of being involved in a near-death incident.

But the city told us later, their computer aided dispatch records indicate they received the call via MCSO via a CAD2CAD interface at 3:40:18.

“MCSO indicated their first assigned unit was at 3:41 with notification of the watch commander. Our first unit marked as arriving on scene was at 3:47:04,” wrote Paul Bloom in an email.

Which means the initial call about the Paddock Mall shooting in the city, rang to the county’s 911 center, I don’t know who that person was because that information is exempt from disclosure. 

But it constitutes an at least a two-minute delay between OPD getting notified of the call and when I know the shots started ringing and a minute and a half after I rang 911 and hung up.

At 3:47 I texted a photo to Balken to show the victim and civilians trying to care for him.

Fortunately for me and the many Christmas shoppers present in the mall, this shooter was not seeking multiple victims that day. While a huge crowd of people stampeded out of the building, a handful of us were left hiding like sitting ducks, unable to escape.

I noticed the large paramedic presence outside the mall as I exited that day and thought to myself, they were likely there first but unable to enter the building without knowing it was clear to do so. It didn’t matter if I was there texting pictures to the police chief, relaying details of where the victims were while civilians tried and failed to save the life of a victim who was fatally shot.

I would learn later about our ability to text 911. I wish I had known that before the Paddock Mall shooting.

Fast forward to Feb. 20, on 36th Avenue, there was a horrible car accident that resulted in the death of two people. There were unexplained delays in dispatching.

I then asked to spend time at the call centers, to learn 911 call taking and dispatch so I could factor it into my reporting. I spend a total of 18 hours at the county’s call center and 12 with the city’s—the only agency that would not participate was the Marion County Sheriff’s Office.

I was immediately awed by the men and women I met at both the city and county call centers. I feel a kinship to them because like me, they are receiving and weighing facts to do their job—and sometimes those facts are upsetting. They are civilians, like me, who care deeply about the community.

Knowing these people at the city and county 911 centers, honestly made me feel safer. I wrote about my visit with them in April—in honor of telecommunicator’s week.

While observing, I took note of some operational differences between the city and county that had nothing to do with bad motives or lack or professionalism —just organizational readiness. The city seemed to have unrealistic expectations for dispatchers who also served as floor managers, there was less automatization in fire dispatch than the county had, and a curious dispatch dance for medical calls with OFR and MCFR to decide who will answer the call.

I asked to speak to the police chief and asked for a copy of the internal investigation about the Feb. 20 incident. Interestingly enough, the concerns I had following observation the city’s facility were reflected in the report when I received it months later.

“Ok, I’m not wrong,” I thought.

The Ocala police chief wouldn’t talk to me about it or answer any questions.

On June 14, 2024, I found myself yet again in a threatening situation where I needed the help of law enforcement and potential medical attention. I was in a business meeting about a block from OPD when a suicidal man walks in the door, claiming he is armed. The business owner calls 911. We learn later that help for the priority one call was not dispatched for 12 minutes.

Chief Balken again would not answer any questions. The city’s Mayor, Ben Marciano, although kind, would not answer any questions or listen to my concerns.

At this point, I have already done enough research and experienced enough of the city challenges personally to decide I’m going to start alerting the public. I’ve called local city councilmembers and explained that something is wrong, and that I think I’ve identified what it is. I’ve asked them to do me a favor and sit at the county’s 911 center and then go sit at the city’s call center and notice the differences I’ve pointed out. Some of them are doing so currently.

I looked at the federal recommendations for local 911 structure and revisited old public conversations in 2019 and 2020 about deconsolidation of 911 communications—and I realize we aren’t following best practices locally.

I realize in this research that my home, logistically, would be one of those homes that could coincidently be hard to respond to. I have a dangerous job, the likelihood of me needing to call 911 might be a little higher than my neighbors. I figure as part of my story, I can use my own home to demonstrate one challenge of responding making a test call during a non-busy time that would take 10 seconds for a county or city employee to answer. After all, Uber delivery drivers often end up in the city neighborhood that abuts my property, looking for my address with no way to access it.

I explain to the director of the 911 call center, Lisa Cahill and Marion County Fire Rescue Chief James Banta my concern and wanting to make a test call. It’s approved. But before I can make the call, I’m threatened with arrest by OPD and then the sheriff—all rubber stamped by the state attorney himself, Bill Gladson.

I tell myself something as a reminder for why I must continue, despite pushback: “Don’t forget you are working in a system where the checks and balances are broken.”

But, I remember, “the ultimate checks and balances are the people.”

I write to you all what I’ve seen, you can weigh and decide what to do with it.

But yes, I still do carry an opinion. I cannot unsee what I’ve seen.