Veterans • In Their Own Words
Stories from Veterans
Behind every case, policy, and statistic is a person. This space gives veterans a place to tell what happened to them, what they endured, and why their experiences deserve to be heard.
Featured Founder Story
This Is My Story
By Kevin • Founder of S.C.A.R.S. • Disabled, service-connected Gulf War veteran
My name is Kevin. I am a disabled, service-connected Gulf War veteran who served honorably for nearly a decade in two separate branches of the United States military. I—and many of my fellow veterans—have experienced mistreatment at the hands of the very government employees we swore an oath to protect. The Department of Veterans Affairs was established to care for veterans in return for our service. Far too often, however, that care is not provided, and allegations of horrifying abuse are covered up or never reported. This is my story.
“I will not become a statistic today.”
My Introduction to the VA
I left the military in 2002. After September 11, I had seen enough and knew exactly where that road was leading. When I separated from the military, no one told me about the VA or the services available to me. I did not learn about those benefits until several years later, when one of my battle buddies left the military and encouraged me to apply. At first, I refused. I felt that accepting VA assistance would take resources away from brothers and sisters who needed them more than I did. Fast-forward to 2017. My life was a mess, and my family finally convinced me to seek help. I was extremely skeptical, but my initial experience was nothing like the horror stories I had heard. Within approximately 30 days, I received a disability rating and service connection, and I began trying to repair the damage inside my head. The journey was bumpy, to say the least. I had to tell my story repeatedly to different doctors before I finally found providers with whom I felt comfortable. Nevertheless, I eventually received treatment and medication. The medications were not right for me and often left me feeling like a zombie—but I was still alive.
My Medication and Care Were Disrupted
In late 2021, at the direction of my doctors at the Perry Point VA Medical Center in Cecil County, Maryland, I stopped making the more than 100-mile round trip for appointments and began receiving my medication through the mail. My doctors assured me that whenever I was ready to return to the hospital, it would “be like you never left.” Given my disabilities and the fact that my doctors supported the arrangement, continuing treatment remotely appeared to be the best decision. In mid-2022, however, the VA stopped mailing my medication. When I called to ask why, I was told that I would have to appear in person to receive it. I explained that my doctors had approved mailing the medication, but VA staff refused to listen. I was eventually told that the arrangement was not documented in my medical records. Around that time, I learned about the My HealtheVet online portal. I created an account and discovered that the information was, in fact, missing from the records available to me. When I began asking questions, I was blocked and denied access to the system. I initially believed I could manage without my medication until the remaining COVID-related issues were resolved. That did not work. My mother and mother-in-law both died from cancer, and life began moving very quickly. I called to schedule a mental-health appointment and was told that I would have to wait at least three months, that I would not see my previous doctor, and that I would have to undergo triage as though I were “starting all over from scratch.” I told the receptionist that this was unacceptable. She refused to schedule the appointment and hung up on me. I then called primary care and explained that I simply needed my medication renewed. A receptionist named Danielle told me that I would first have to go through the emergency room. We argued, and she also hung up on me. Approximately five minutes later, someone called me back and offered an appointment in one hour. Because I lived about an hour from the hospital, I immediately accepted the appointment, got into my truck, and started driving. About 50 minutes later, while I was crossing the Conowingo Dam, I received another call from the hospital. A clinical medical assistant named Christine told me that my appointment had been canceled and that I needed to go to Patient Care. I explained that I was nearly there and would arrive in less than five minutes. She insisted that I report to the emergency room and then hung up.
My Visit to the Emergency Room
At that point, I simply needed my medication, so I went to the emergency room as instructed. Two patients who arrived after me were called back before I was. I was already frustrated, and an argument began at the intake desk. I was eventually taken to an examination room. A nurse asked why I was there. I explained that I only wanted to schedule a mental-health appointment and obtain my medication. I must have coughed a couple of times during the conversation because she asked how long I had been coughing. I told her that I suffered from severe chronic bronchitis and that I was coughing because I did not have my medication. She became alarmed and said that I was not permitted to remain in that office. She moved me to an isolated room containing a single chair and told me she would return shortly. When she returned, she was wearing head-to-toe protective equipment, including a face shield and respirator. It looked like something out of Stranger Things. She forced a wooden swab up my nose and told me that a doctor would see me soon. Dr. Morely eventually came out and said, “Good news, Kevin. You don’t have COVID.” By that point, I was extremely upset. I responded, “No shit, Doc.” He appeared confused and asked what was wrong. After I explained everything that had happened, he seemed shocked. He promised to submit consultations to my doctors and instructed me to go to the mental-health building, say a particular phrase verbatim, and I would receive an appointment immediately. I followed his instructions. The mental-health receptionist appeared ready to schedule the appointment—until I gave her my name. Then the problems began again. I said I would not leave until I received an appointment. The VA Police were called. While I was arguing with the officers about what had happened, the head of Mental Health, Dr. Semiatin, called me and personally told me that I would not receive an appointment. The VA Police then removed me from the building. I returned to Primary Care with Lieutenant Farra—who is now a captain—and another VA police officer following me. I found Dr. Morely and told him what had happened. Once again, he promised that someone would contact me the next day. Outstanding, right? Wrong. No one contacted me.
I Returned With a Witness and a Camera
I conducted extensive research into the VA’s rules, regulations, directives, statutes, and policies. I then returned to the hospital with a witness and my cellphone camera. This time, I received my appointments without any difficulty. I was even given a same-day mental-health appointment. It was not with my previous doctor, but I finally obtained my medication. A week later, I attended my first primary-care appointment since the VA had stopped providing my medication. The appointment was with Dr. Tinney rather than my regular physician, whom I was told was on vacation. That did not matter to me. I simply wanted my medication and access to medical care. I continued recording my interactions with VA employees and medical providers. During those encounters, I documented numerous violations of VA rules and policies. I also began noticing something disturbing: Every time I arrived at the hospital, VA staff and police officers appeared to follow me as I drove or walked around the campus. VA police officers were stationed at every one of my appointments. How did they always know where I would be? Why were the VA Police being informed about all of my medical appointments? Much later, I discovered that a behavioral flag had been placed in my medical record without my knowledge. Because I had not been notified, I had no opportunity to use the appeal process. The flag was eventually removed by a behavioral specialist named Mrs. Ave.
I Was Again Denied Medical Care
By this point, I believe certain VA employees were angry because I was recording my interactions. When my original primary-care doctor, Dr. Sood, came to get me for a follow-up appointment, she did not behave as she normally did. She appeared angry and standoffish. As soon as we entered her office, she told me that she would not provide care unless my mask covered both my mouth and nose. I tried to explain that I could not tolerate that because of the medical condition she had diagnosed and for which she had prescribed medication. Rather than discussing a reasonable accommodation for my disability, she refused to provide medical care and threatened to call the police. I told her that if she called the police, I would have to record what happened. She became so angry that she stormed out of the office and left the door open with my personal information displayed on the computer. I took out my phone and began recording. My understanding of VA Directive 1078 was that no statute prohibited such a recording and that veterans, their family members, or their caregivers could record appointments under the circumstances described in the directive. The police arrived and removed me from the hospital again.
My Attempts to Obtain Help
I attempted to file complaints with Patient Advocate Ron Roan, but nothing meaningful happened. At some point, I contacted the Veterans Crisis Line, and I believe my aunt contacted the White House VA Hotline. Despite the seriousness of the situation, no one reached out to me for nearly two months. I eventually returned to the reception desk, where a very kind employee named Angela scheduled an appointment for me with a new doctor, Dr. Long, the director of the hospital. While she was helping me, a man named Charles Flowe approached and threatened me for recording him. He then brought over another man, Herminio Gonzalez, who took me into his office, apologized, and rescheduled me with Dr. Tinney for another appointment that same day. Why did they do that? I believe I now know the answer.
My Arrest at the VA
When I arrived for the appointment, I was ambushed and arrested by VA Police on allegations of wiretapping and disorderly conduct. The officers also threatened to arrest my wife and took my phone from her. I was transported to the Cecil County District Court, where the VA police officers were turned away and refused service. I was then taken to the Cecil County Detention Center. I spent the night in jail and was released the following day on bond. As part of my pretrial conditions, I was ordered to stay away from the doctors and submit to mandatory drug testing. After several tests, I discovered what I believed was an effort to tamper with the testing process and send me back to jail. I have documentation from independent drug tests for which I was paying during the same period. Because I could no longer go to Perry Point, I traveled to a VA hospital even farther away. I recorded my appointment there without being arrested. A VA police officer at the Baltimore facility told me that officers had received a memorandum concerning me and that recording was permitted. I returned to Perry Point and recorded again. This time, VA police officers told me that recording was permitted and educated members of the hospital staff about VA Directive 1078. I later learned that Angela—the employee who had tried to help me—had been fired.
Four Charges Became Nine
Unfortunately, the State of Maryland refused to dismiss the criminal charges. Instead, prosecutors doubled down and indicted me. I hired attorney Tyler Nowicki for $15,000. He told me that he had tried and won two previous wiretapping cases. Based on his representations, I believed the charges would be dismissed. After all, I did not believe Maryland could lawfully prosecute me for conduct that occurred on a federal enclave, particularly when a VA directive expressly addressed recording. Nevertheless, the prosecution continued. The VA police obtained a void state warrant and then secured another warrant approximately 10 days after my phone was stolen. The VA police worked with Cecil County prosecutor Robert Sentman—who has since become a judge—and circumvented their own policies and procedures to obtain two separate indictments against me. What began as four charges became nine. I was facing as much as 40 years in prison for conduct that I maintain was not a crime and over which I contend the Cecil County courts lacked jurisdiction. But it did not end there. After I paid my attorney an additional $15,000 to address the new charges, he withdrew from my case six days before trial. He told me that I needed an attorney with more constitutional-law experience. His withdrawal occurred after I confronted him about what I believed was inappropriate cooperation with the special prosecutor. Every attorney I contacted in the area refused to help me, leaving me to represent myself.
My Trial
Throughout the proceedings, my motions appeared to be summarily denied. The clerk, Charlene Notorcola, backdated my motion to recuse by exactly 10 days, interfering with my ability to seek review by an en banc panel. Motions were granted and then reconsidered and denied. I received legal advice from the bench. I was forced to relinquish my right to a speedy trial four separate times. I was not permitted to introduce evidence concerning federal law, VA policy, or other material that supported my position that I was allowed to record. Charges involving witnesses who never appeared to testify were not dismissed. The judge told the jury that he trusted them more than he trusted me. He refused to give my proposed jury instructions and limited the jury to considering Maryland’s wiretapping law, which I contend did not govern my conduct on federal-enclave property. There is undoubtedly more that I am leaving out. The short version is that the jury found me not guilty of disorderly conduct—the offense the government used as its probable cause—but guilty of the Maryland wiretapping charges. I appealed the convictions to the Appellate Court of Maryland. That court affirmed the outcome without, in my view, adequately addressing VA Directive 1078 or whether VA police officers were authorized to obtain and execute the state warrant at issue. I then petitioned the Supreme Court of Maryland for a writ of certiorari, but my petition was denied. I believe Maryland’s institutions have treated me unfairly because of what I have exposed. The matter is now in federal court, where I believe it belonged from the beginning. My federal habeas corpus case is Case No. 26-cv-01789, and my federal civil lawsuit is Case No. 26-cv-00069.
The Retaliation Did Not End
Since this ordeal began, I have been stalked, harassed, arrested multiple times, and wrongfully imprisoned by local police departments. The resulting cases have ended in dismissals, entries of nolle prosequi, not-guilty findings after bench trials, or acquittals by juries following de novo appeals. In one alleged trespassing case, I spent nearly 40 days in jail after a District Court judge disregarded evidence that I believe proved I had not committed the offense. Instead of issuing a summons, authorities sent a Harford County SWAT team to my house. Approximately a dozen officers arrived with guns drawn and a transport van. I was denied admission to Veterans Treatment Court and sentenced to 90 days in jail for an alleged first-offense trespass. Shortly before my case, I watched a defendant who had reportedly been caught with more than 1,000 bags of fentanyl receive drug court and probation without jail time. I wish I were making that up. I later exercised my right to a de novo appeal and was found not guilty by a jury.
This Became Bigger Than My Story
After I began publicly sharing some of the videos documenting my treatment at the VA, other veterans started contacting me. They told me their own stories of abuse—many of which were even more disturbing than what I had experienced. That was when I realized this was not only happening to me. Veterans across the country were struggling to obtain care, navigate VA bureaucracy, report misconduct, and defend themselves against the very system that was supposed to protect them. Many felt ignored, intimidated, or completely alone. Those conversations ultimately led me to establish a 501(c)(3) nonprofit organization dedicated to helping veterans confront the same kinds of obstacles. I did not start it to promote myself or profit from anyone’s suffering. I started it because veterans were reaching out for help, and too many of them had nowhere else to turn. What began as my fight for medical care and accountability became a purpose far greater than myself: standing beside other veterans, helping them tell their stories, and making sure they know they are not fighting alone.
I Refuse to Become a Statistic
Throughout this ordeal, I have repeatedly stood in front of a mirror and told myself: “I will not become a statistic today.” I do not say that to praise myself. I say it because I know veterans who have ended their watch after enduring far less than what I have experienced. Veterans should not have to fight the government for the medical care they earned. They should not be punished for documenting their treatment, asking questions, reporting misconduct, or demanding that government employees follow their own rules. They should not have to fear retaliation, arrest, prosecution, or imprisonment simply because they stood up for themselves. I am still here. I am still fighting. And I am telling my story because too many veterans were silenced before they had the opportunity to tell theirs.
Every veteran’s story matters.
S.C.A.R.S. exists to support veterans, help them navigate difficult systems, and make sure they know they are not fighting alone.