Contract to steal

After a felony conviction for stealing thousands of dollars from a client at a government-funded homeless shelter, the Rev. Donald Britton might be the last person to whom you’d expect the state of Louisiana to hand a couple of six-figure government grants.

Unlike Louisiana’s neighbors to the east and west, Louisiana’s state government does not conduct criminal background checks on the groups to which it grants social service contracts. And in at least one case, departments within our state government are in the dark about groups it gives money to that are in hot water with other state departments.

Under the state’s loose system of handouts, Britton has been able to pile up social service grants.

As the director of Community Resource Services Inc., a Baton Rouge-based nonprofit counseling service, Britton received a $100,000 social service contract from the Department of Social Services to provide education and counseling for substance abuse, families in need and those with mental health problems.

Officials with DSS say they didn’t know about his felony conviction.

“We’re not required to do background checks on people we contract with,” said Lane Ardoin, the department’s acting general counsel.

The year before—from April to December 2006—the Department of Health and Hospitals handed Britton $200,000 to run an adult drug and alcohol counseling service even though he was on probation at the time for stealing money from another government program.

A DHH lawyer says the department doesn’t conduct criminal background checks on service providers who deal only with adult clients

But in neighboring Mississippi, the Department of Mental Health—which also runs a network of community-based drug and alcohol counseling services—requires everyone who works for a nonprofit contractor to undergo a criminal background check before they receive any grant money, says department spokeswoman Wendy Bailey.

In Texas, the Department of State Health Services mandates all contractors provide certification that none of their directors or managers have been indicted or convicted for “a criminal offense related to any financial matter,” department spokesman Doug McBride says.

In Louisiana, social service contracts for nonprofit groups represent 2.7% of the state’s budget. Last year, 1,900 nonprofit organizations received $811 million, most of them providing services such as counseling or education, according to Susan Smith, director of the state’s Office of Contractual Review.

And somewhere among those hundreds of millions in grants each year, applications attached to Britton have won approval—despite his felony conviction and the problems he’s had providing the services he has promised.

In April of this year, Britton tried to go back to DHH for more money by offering to provide the Baker school system with a host of free counseling services.

Britton, 57, claimed his company could provide at-risk students with anti-gang, anti-violence and substance abuse counseling three times per week. He also offered to provide additional services as needed, including 24-hour crisis counseling.

What Britton didn’t mention during his presentation to the Baker School Board was that he did not have the funding in place to pay for the services he was offering.

According to its latest financial statement, Community Resource Services is in debt and has little revenue. Late last year Britton emerged from personal bankruptcy, and during recent litigation, he was granted pauper status because he couldn’t afford to pay court costs or attorneys’ fees.

Britton didn’t tell the School Board about his felony conviction.

In June 2004, just five months into his tenure as executive director of Maison Des Ami of Louisiana on Convention Street, a federally-funded nonprofit shelter for homeless adults with chronic mental problems, Britton was charged with stealing $3,000 of government money from one of the residents.

A jury later found Britton guilty of felony theft. He received a five-year suspended prison sentence and was placed on supervised probation.

Britton, who grew up in north Louisiana and later served for four years as a police officer at Southern University, claims a racially-biased criminal justice system convicted him because he is black.

“You got a lot of racism that’s practiced in the courts,” Britton says, “and when you’re an intelligent, strong black man you become a threat to a lot of people.”

Britton insists the staff at Maison Des Ami used him as a scapegoat.

“You had a bunch of racists that were running the organization,” Britton says. “When I came on board they wanted me to be their flunkey and their house nigger and help them do their dirty work.”

Shortly after being charged with stealing from one nonprofit, Britton, who is an ordained minister, went to work for another nonprofit, as pastor of Living Waters Outreach Ministries on Hollywood Street. The church director, Raymond Bennie, also tapped Britton to head the church’s substance abuse clinic.

Britton wrote three or four grant applications for the clinic, Bennie recalls, and was paid $600 to $700 for each application, though Living Waters didn’t receive any of the grants.

After a few months, Bennie says, he lost faith in Britton and fired him. “He was very—to put it bluntly—very schemish, very cunning, very deceitful.”

Britton is suing his former employer for breach of contract.

Out of a job again, Britton’s next stop was Good Shepherd Baptist Church on Mission Drive.

In December 2005, the church hired Britton to run its substance abuse clinic. Britton told church leaders he would fund the clinic through government grants, says Ed Kaglear, a member of the church board.

Using a nonprofit corporation formed by the church, Britton landed a service agreement with the Department of Health and Hospitals to provide a program of drug and alcohol rehab counseling. Between April 2006 and January 2007, Britton—on supervised probation at the time—billed DHH more than $200,000.

By the fall of 2006, though, the church board at Good Shepherd had already grown suspicious of Britton’s program and demanded to see his records. Accusations had surfaced that he was inflating his client count and over-billing the state, Kaglear says. Britton refused to show the church board his client records, citing privacy issues.

The confrontation escalated, and on Jan. 16, 2007, the board fired Britton and changed the lock on his office door.

Britton has sued Good Shepherd for breach of contract and defamation.

For the most part, the churches Britton has been involved with are very small, independent operations, and don’t possess the resources necessary to conduct their own background checks.

A state audit found that between April and September 2006, the Good Shepherd clinic—with Britton as executive director—charged DHH more than $17,000 for undocumented services.

In February 2007, just one month after Britton was fired from Good Shepherd, the Department of Social Services caught him operating a non-licensed boarding home for mentally disabled adults. Twelve people lived in the home, located on Executive Park Avenue, one block from Britton’s office on Harry Drive. The department filed suit against Britton in state court, and in July a judge issued an injunction that forced Britton to shut down his operation.

Yet, while the Department of Social Services’ own legal section was in court trying to force Britton to close his illegal boarding house, another section of the department was handing him even more money.

In May 2007, the department’s Office of Family Support signed a seven-month contract with Britton’s company to provide counseling services to the needy. As part of the contract, OFS also awarded Britton a federally-funded grant for $100,000, most of which he paid to himself and his small staff in salaries and fringe benefits, according to department documents obtained by 225.

Anthony Caruso, the department lawyer who filed for the injunction to stop Britton from operating the unlicensed boarding house, says he had no idea that while he was battling Britton in court his own department was awarding Britton a six-figure contract.

After initially cooperating with 225 for this story, Rev. Donald Britton eventually stopped responding to our inquiries. Finally, we tried to arrange to take his photograph since the only one we had was the booking photo from his arrest. He promised to supply us with a picture, but then changed his mind.

He sent us the following e-mail:

After praying about this. I am not going to waste my time with devils.

No weapon formed against me will prosper and every word spoken against me I and my God will condemn. This is the heritage of the children of God.

Satan loses again.

—Rev. Donald Britton

In his application for the $100,000 grant from the Department of Social Services, Britton made repeated references to the Baton Rouge-based Southeast African American Regional Fellowship Ministers’ Conference, a religious coalition with nine member churches. Britton wrote that his proposed counseling program was a collaborative effort between his nonprofit company and the ministers’ conference.

Although Britton made his partnership with the ministers’ conference a cornerstone of his grant application, George Guillory, president of the ministers’ conference, says he understood the conference was only to play a minor role in Britton’s program.

Guillory says his organization agreed to support the program by providing space for counseling and distributing literature through its member churches if Britton obtained the necessary funding.

“We didn’t have any intention of being a principal in applying for the grant,” Guillory says.

Kim Braswell, assistant director of contract services for the Office of Family Support, says Britton’s purported partnership with the African-American ministers’ conference was a factor in her office’s decision to award him the grant.

Department spokeswoman Cheryl Michelet agreed that the state expects those who have been awarded grants to follow through with the plans and partnerships outlined in their proposals.

Yet, in spite of the importance Britton gave to his partnership with the ministers’ conference in his grant application and the key role he suggested it would play in his proposed program, he did not incorporate the organization into the program once he secured the $100,000 state grant, according to Guillory.

“We haven’t done anything with him,” Guillory says. “He hasn’t contacted us.”

By the fall of 2007, the Department of Social Services, just like its sister agency, DHH, the previous year, was finding problems with Britton’s operation. In a written report, a contract monitor with the Office of Family Support said Britton’s “invoices were consistently submitted with lack of documentation, services being provided were questionable. Visits to provider revealed services were not being delivered as stated in the contract.”

When Britton’s contract expired in December, the department refused to extend it, despite an option to renew the agreement for up to three years. Nearly all of the department’s other contractors were extended, according to state officials.

In its final evaluation, the Office of Family Support rated Britton’s performance as “less than satisfactory.” The agency said it would not hire him again.

During his seven-month contract with the Department of Social Services, Britton spent more than $7,000 of government money on office electronics, according to state documents.

As of mid-June, Britton still had all of that equipment, despite a contractual requirement that he either purchase it or turn it over to the state by the end of January.

“We have not recovered or had (Britton) buy out the property,” says DSS acting general counsel Lane Ardoin.

Asked why his department has allowed Britton free and unrestricted use of thousands of dollars of publicly paid-for equipment, Ardoin said, “We’re short a couple of contract monitor people as a result of the freeze that Governor (Bobby) Jindal implemented when he came into office, so we’re running behind on some of these things.”

Under the federal tax code, Britton’s Community Resource Services is a tax-exempt charitable organization, also known as a 501(c)(3) corporation.

The tax code mandates that Britton’s company, and all others like it, make its financial records, including its last three years’ tax returns, its application for tax-exempt status, and any required independent financial audit, available for public inspection during regular business hours.

During a face-to-face interview in early May at Community Resource Services’ corporate office on Harry Drive, I asked Britton to show me his company’s tax records.

Britton insisted that I produce two forms of identification, so I showed him my Louisiana press ID card and my driver’s license. He then demanded to see my Social Security card.

When I told Britton that I didn’t have my Social Security card on me, that I kept it at home—I’ve had the same card since I was 14—he said I couldn’t look at his records.

Pressed on why he had to see my Social Security card, Britton said: “We have to make sure our records are secure. The policy is that we need two major forms of identification when anybody wants to view our records … that’s a driver’s license and a Social Security card.”

When I asked if the policy was a written one, Britton said he was “pretty sure” it was in the company’s policy and procedures manual. But when I asked him to show me a copy of that manual, Britton said, “I don’t have it handy right now.”

Will McDaniel, listed by the Secretary of State’s Office as the vice president of Community Resource Services, and on company letterhead as the treasurer, says he has never heard of such a company policy.

“Undoubtedly, he has something that he is trying to hide,” McDaniel says.

About 18 months ago, McDaniel says, he agreed to become a corporate officer as a favor to Britton, who at that time attended the same church as McDaniel. Since then he’s had no dealings with the company and says he did not know Britton had listed him on the letterhead as the company treasurer.

McDaniel says he spoke to Britton in May and asked him why he was refusing to comply with federal public disclosure laws.

“I’m not a party to anything he’s doing,” McDaniel says. “I’m not going to do no time for anybody’s foolishness.”

Commissioner of Administration Angele Davis learned about Britton’s contracts with various state agencies when 225 contacted her office to comment for this story. She zeroed in on the fact there are no background checks or cross-checks between departments.

“This is unacceptable,” Davis said. “I am glad that DSS and DHH will be reviewing their departments’ contract approval processes to strengthen safeguards and deter the possibility of taxpayer-funded contracts being awarded to individuals who have violated the public trust.”

On a Tuesday afternoon in late June, I contacted Britton and told him I had located my Social Security card and asked to meet the following day to present it to him so we could review his organization’s tax records. I reminded him that the Tax Code requires nonprofits like his to make their records available for public inspections during regular business hours.

But Britton said he couldn’t show me the records until sometime the following week. When I asked for a firm date and time to review the records he said I’d have to call back the following Monday.

He said he was busy working on a new proposal.