Work ethics

Part 3

by Monica McKenna

DesRosiers says he is still "shocked and surprised" that any of his former co-workers had sent such a letter. "It's not just vile . . . it's disgusting. . . . I thought most of the people there liked both of them."

The Prudential staff in Auburn, singly and as a group, will not talk to outsiders and refers any inquiries to spokesman DeFillippo in New Jersey. Even Lanciault, after "exhaustive interviews," had a hard time getting any sense of prevailing office atmosphere from employees. Workers there have clammed up and especially won't talk to him even though it's not a criminal case.

And that's the legal irony of the nasty letter case.

It's vile and insulting, but because the author or authors call upon God several times -- once to bring AIDS down on Clarke and Parkin -- without any direct physical threat, the letter, as Lanciault found out, is "just outside the realm of violation."

Even Cole in the AG's office finds his hands tied, too. He was drawn into the case as a consultant by the District Attorney's office after the Auburn Police Department sought help in determining procedure for the vituperative letter.

"Both the DA and I, independently and together, found no threat. The language did not rise to the level of criminal civil-rights law," asserts Cole.

The two components of any case that would make it a hate crime, he says, are threat and attack. The letter may be "extremely offensive, but it does not rise to a threat. . . . These two women may have a valid claim of [a] hostile work environment, but the MCAD is the proper place for those complaints," he says. In fact, Cole says, the MCAD is already investigating 7000 similar complaints statewide.

Lanciault is awaiting a second handwriting analysis to confirm or deny the suspect the first analysis found before he announces his findings. Prudential is cooperating with his investigation, he says.

While the Auburn police, the District Attorney, and the Attorney General were investigating the letter, Prudential, which received the formal complaints last summer, is supposedly not finished with its probe either. Then again, even when it does close the books on two ex-employees who charged that harassment was part of their office atmosphere, the company is not going to disclose its findings.

"As difficult as it is for the company, we can't discuss this," DeFillippo insists. "We can't even say if any disciplinary action was taken. . . . We just don't discuss personnel." He is adamant: This case is dealing with two issues that Prudential, with its 83,000 employees worldwide, will not discuss -- personnel and litigation. Nor, for that matter, would any other company or employer, DeFillippo points out.

In this DeFillippo is correct, most companies large or small routinely decline to discuss internal personnel matters for reasons that range from employee privacy and confidentiality up to including potential legal liability.

It's now DesRosiers's word against Parkin's, and she believes the letter was sent in retaliation for her and Clarke's complaints. "It was sent to shut us up," she says.

According to company policies, even if DesRosiers had been demoted or transferred he would not have been retained if the company had found serious fault with his performance.

Complaining to the state only airs the charge, says Murphy, the attorney for Clarke and Parkin. No cure is promised, but the size of the company and its management and the offense itself required that steps be taken, she says.

"We may be bandaiding things every so often, but for this to go on at that level of intensity in 1997, it's a very strong message that whatever we're doing is not having much impact," Murphy says.

This is not a five-person office, she points out, but a major, national corporation where bias colors the mentality of management.

"And that's really scary."

Both Clarke and Parkin are awaiting MCAD's findings.

Clarke is still looking for a job, while Parkin has found another. Their house is warm and neat, with two loud dogs. The dining-room table recently sported a Mother's Day bouquet sent to Clarke who is currently expecting her fourth grandchild. The table suspiciously matches the nearby kitchen cabinets. How could that be? "Me and my Dad," Parkin volunteers. "We did it," she says, proudly pointing out other handiwork of theirs in the home.

The two have resumed waiting, only this time someone has listened. Notes Parkin who especially lauded Lanciault of the Auburn Police Department -- "I'd like to rename him Lancelot" -- "We didn't get special treatment, just equal treatment. That's all we want."