California's Disaster Response: Spend First

In the nearly four years since the Sept. 11 attacks, more than $1.3 billion in federal anti-terrorism cash has flowed into California. The problem is that until last month, the state had no comprehensive strategy to make sure the money was being spent effectively.

Instead, every community has been left to make its own decisions about what it will need most after a terrorist attack such as the deadly transit bombings in London last week.

Results have been uneven.

Remote Modoc County, population 18,600, spent $3,500 for crates and kennels to hold stray animals, while San Francisco set aside $2.2 million to beef up security on the Golden Gate Bridge.

Most of the federal money has been distributed to California's 58 counties without taking into account where the risk of attack or potential for damage is greatest.

That explains why more money has been set aside for each resident in tiny Alpine County than for each resident in Santa Clara County. And because the method for divvying up the money was put into place by former Gov. Gray Davis without state legislation or public review, the entire system may be illegal.

In a four-month examination of how California and local communities have used their federal anti-terrorism windfall, the Mercury News has found that even those making the decisions question how well the money is being used to prepare for a future attack many believe is inevitable.

Among the issues uncovered before the federal government increased its terrorism alert last week:

Three-quarters of the homeland security grants awarded to California from 2002-04 remained unspent as of April, according to the state Office of Homeland Security.

A majority of Santa Clara County's money also has yet to be spent.

With its heavily populated cities and heavily trafficked harbors and airports, California still receives far less per capita than lightly populated states with few discernible targets, such as Wyoming, Vermont and North Dakota.

At the local level, five-member committees of police, fire and public health representatives have taken decisions about how to spend the money out of the hands of elected officials. Instead, these so-called "gangs of five" meet mostly behind closed doors with virtually no public input.

Though all the high-tech robots, hazardous material suits and mobile command posts bought by California's cities and counties meet federal guidelines, critics worry that instead of buying what is most needed to defend against terrorism, local officials are buying items they would otherwise not be able to afford in these tight economic times.

"For the most part... they've used it for real needs in their community. Those needs may not have had anything to do with making it safer from terrorism," says a skeptical Rep. Zoe Lofgren, a San Jose Democrat who serves on the House Committee on Homeland Security.

For instance, Redding in Shasta County is buying a $150,000 custom-built, armored truck to carry police and others into contaminated "hot zones," a practice that emergency planners say would expose the first responders to avoidable danger.

And the city of Bishop, population 3,700, has set aside $39,455 for a mobile command post "to respond to local terrorist events." Although terrorists can strike anywhere, Bishop is not expected to be a prime target.

Federal officials are quick to point out that despite controversy over how the money is being spent, there has been no evidence of corruption.

"Our office has been the subject of 14 separate audits and investigations and not one has revealed an incident of abuse," said Marc Short, spokesman for the U.S. Department of Homeland Security.

In the first frenetic, confusing days after Sept. 11, Americans and their elected leaders woke up to just how unprepared the nation was to fend off a terrorist attack.

Within months, Congress passed a law creating a new federal Department of Homeland Security to coordinate the country's defenses. The law also spelled out the formula used to divide aid, giving every state a baseline grant plus an additional amount based on population.

The United States had been spending money to fight terrorism ever since the World Trade Center and Oklahoma City bombings in the mid-1990s. But the amount that filtered down to local governments was minuscule compared with what followed. In the year before the 2001 World Trade Center and Pentagon attacks, the U.S. Department of Justice distributed $97 million in terrorism preparedness grants to states. In 2003, the newly created Department of Homeland Security provided $2.6 billion.

There are now more than a half-dozen types of federal anti-terrorism grants, most of which are administered by Homeland Security to pay for equipment and training. But there are also three separate pots of money from the Department of Health and Human Services to fight bioterrorism.

Congress wanted the new homeland security money spent quickly. But as it turned out, spending quickly and spending wisely were not necessarily the same thing. Each state was supposed to develop its own plan, but in the rush to bolster America's defenses, there was little time for planning. Frustrated cities and counties asked what they needed to do to be prepared but got little guidance from the federal or state governments. What they did get were long lists of approved equipment they could buy.

It wasn't until April of this year that the federal government finally produced key planning documents, including its overarching National Preparedness Goal. But even that document, which outlines what agencies need to do to get ready for an attack, won't be finalized until October.

Meanwhile, California's Office of Homeland Security, which has had six directors in two years, issued a master strategy for the state in June. While the document is useful in outlining a broad approach, it "doesn't contain much in the way of actual practical level information," said Gilroy Fire Chief Dale Foster, who first worked on homeland security as an acting and assistant chief in San Jose.

In a vacuum, state and local officials say they've done the best they could, shopping from their government-approved lists of equipment. But the problem with that approach quickly became apparent.

"A shopping list unrelated to anything turns out to be foolishness," said Republican Rep. Chris Cox of Newport Beach, chairman of the House Committee on Homeland Security. "It's disconnected from actual risk."

With earlier and better planning, critics contend, billions of taxpayer dollars could have been used more effectively.

"They always made the grants willy-nilly, to get the money out, with no rhyme or reason, and no metrics to see if the money is doing any good," complains Clark Kent Ervin, who until last year was inspector general and in-house critic at the federal Department of Homeland Security.

"The national security effort should be spent to protect us, instead of spread like political pork," says Cox, who has sponsored a bill that would send a bigger share of the federal money to areas deemed high risk, an approach endorsed by the Bush administration. The Senate, where each state gets two votes, rejected a similar measure last year.

As it turned out, California adopted a formula for distributing its money to counties that was similar to the federal formula, with similar results.

But unlike the federal government, the state never sought or enacted a law spelling out its plan.

In the tense weeks after Sept. 11, then-Gov. Gray Davis named George V. Vinson, a blunt-talking former FBI agent, as his state security adviser. As head of the FBI's San Francisco office, Vinson had organized the Bay Area's first joint task force on terrorism before moving to the private sector. His expertise was in hunting down suspected terrorists, not in organizing disaster relief after an attack.

In February 2003, Davis issued an executive order creating a new state Office of Homeland Security. He named Vinson its director and charged him with distributing federal grant money that was starting to flood Sacramento.

The new setup bypassed the long-established and well-regarded Office of Emergency Services, the agency charged by law with planning the state's response to disasters. For years, the office's effectiveness had been tested repeatedly by devastating earthquakes, mudslides and fires. And well before 2001, the agency under former director Dallas Jones had crafted a statewide terrorism response plan.

However, Vinson had little patience for bureaucracy and even less for emergency managers, who until then played the leading role in preparing for disasters.

Instead, Vinson wanted to put federal money directly into the hands of the law enforcement officers, firefighters and health workers who would be first on the scene.

A month after taking over, Vinson announced his plan: The state would retain 20 percent of key homeland security grants for agencies such as the California Highway Patrol and the National Guard. The rest would go to the state's 58 counties, using a formula that mimicked the federal system. Each county would get a base level of funding plus an added amount based on its population.

Like the federal formula, the state plan favored non-urban areas when spending is measured per resident.

In setting up the system, Vinson says he had to beat back competing interests, each fighting for more funding at the expense of the others.

The final compromise assured every county of something and included instructions for distributing the money. A five-member committee in each county, not the board of supervisors or local city councils, would decide how to spend the homeland security grants.

Though Vinson defends the system he put in place, even he is dismayed by some of the equipment local and state agencies bought, including protective gear that he worries will deteriorate while left, unused, in the trunks of squad cars.

He also objects to some of the high-tech equipment many local agencies have insisted on buying.

Jones contends Vinson and his successors ignored the anti-terrorism plans already drawn up by the Office of Emergency Services and bypassed existing councils of elected officials in each county, which were set up to coordinate disaster relief.

"It's very disappointing when you spend first and plan second," Jones said. "California was very fortunate. It had begun the process and had some some very good plans. What happened and where are they?"