You are a victim too.

An experience of needing to file a complaint within the U.S Military… How much of a waste of time it can be

(Parts of this story have been altered for current security requirements. Hopefully, the full story can go into a possible upcoming book)

It concerns me; this is a narrative and chronicle of events I experienced within the Military. How I had to navigate and experience the military reporting process of Equal Employment Opportunity, discrimination, harassment, bullying, retribution, and a hostile work environment.

My name is Emeka Ifeji. I am a resident of Bronx, New York.

I am currently a member of the New York Army National Guard attached to the 369TH Sustainment Brigade (Harlem Hell fighters). At least till October 12, 2020. I am about 6 ft 4 inches tall, brown skin, bespectacled, originally from Abuja, Nigeria, slender, muscular, and built a little like an athlete. I tend to keep to myself, but I can be the energy in a gathering.

I had a difficult situation within the Military, which is why I am writing, hoping that something good will come out, and I may get some help.

I suffered an injury around my spine while on active duty in Maryland in December 2018, which got worse while on a drill weekend at my unit at Camp Smith, New York, in March 2019.

The diagnosis was severe inflammation around my spine. It has since then impeded my movement and my ability to perform a lot of physical acts.

I was also battling severe depression, which was resistant to current medication because of an incident that happened while I was in Maryland, which resulted in me being sent home 10-days to the end of my 13-week Defense information course for public affairs people.

I have needed a Military Line of Duty (LOD) medical insurance since February 2019, which I am yet to get. The military system has been ongoing, a lot longer than it should be in granting mine.

It’s consistently hampered by the events that happened to me in January 2019 at Fort Meade, Maryland, while at the Defense Information School.

The Story

On January 18, 2019. I was sent home on a false charge of drinking eight hours before my duty time, which began at 5:00 am, on weekdays and different on weekends.

The charge was based on a very confusing policy (probably made for kids under 21 in mind) and the test for the system was to have random breathalyzers at 5:00 am.

The Commander at the Army Students Detachment at Fort Meade at Defense Information School, at the time, was Captain Thomas Cage. He was a tall, lanky Midwesterner, with eyes a bit sunken, with very stiff and a bit awkward movement. He was like a child who grew up socially irrelevant and now spent every moment of his Military life, proving his childhood wrong. His go-to move was to act like the smartest person in the room, mostly in a very condescending manner.

Cage had at the time had seen me buying a bottle of whiskey on January 18 at 6:00 pm, which I was allowed to drink by detachment policy, and also legally allowed (I was 34 at the time).

The next day, at the end of the weekday 4:20 am formation of what had been a 3-month plus Public Affairs Course, he ordered a random breathalyzer for everyone.

Before the test, Sergeant First Class Ellen Kidachu, the testing official in charge, said the commander, Cage had seen me buying a bottle of whiskey (which I was allowed to do) yesterday in the evening.

I muttered back to the Kidachu that I had not broken any rules or policies. That I went out, but that I had been on the road back home by 10:24 pm.

I had bought a bottle of Basil Hayden’s Kentucky Straight Bourbon Whiskey 750ml for my in-law/cousin who lived in Silver Springs, Maryland.

We had a FIFA 2020 rematch date to play in his house since he has won the last game, with the bragging rights that go along with it.

The game started around 6:00 pm and lasted for about 2 ½ hours. We shared the whiskey during the game — less than a quarter of the bottle between us.

This week was scheduled as my last weekend attending this course, though I had a pending extension for another one-month post-course there.

Kidachu (the official’s in-charge of testing) then claimed, I said I had stopped drinking at 10:24 pm, which was not what I had said. I became afraid. I asked to use the bathroom, but they refused.

Standing in line at 5:00 am to take the breathalyzer test on a portable device was the next thing I had to do while holding in my growling and in a desperate need to use the toilet(probably brought about by the panic of using the restroom). The breathalyzer still went ahead that morning, January 19, 2019. Without any consideration of my repeated request to use the bathroom.

Even though I had drunk less than two shots and which was the only alcohol I had drank for over a week: I tested over the company limit of .05, not only that, my reading kept on climbing with every test l was given, which was four in total.

While the legal limit in the state was .08, in the detachment, the commander had set it to .05. My multiple tests read .056, .060, then .063, and it kept rising.

After this, two officials took the responsibility of directing me. One was Amy Brown. She was the First Sergeant of the detachment, a middle-aged, southern female with milky skin, a thick drawl, about 5ft 6inc, golden-brown hair; she moved in a way that looked like an affirmation to herself and others that she was something important. Her favorite thing was to talk about how she wanted to go on dates or was freeing time to someday go on dates.

The second was a Sergeant First Class called Joe Moore, a bald head, a very pale-skinned middle-aged male, from rural Pennsylvania, with a disposition of always trying to look busy. In truth, his favorite pastime was monitoring the cameras to get information and also getting Soldiers to relay information about other Soldiers. Then he would routinely put Soldiers in trouble with any information in would find.

At this time, these officials isolated me from everyone, and they sat me down on a long stool in a corner. Then tested a couple of times more, and each time, my reading kept rising.

The officials led me to the Military police post at the gate for another couple of breathalyzers. And right on cue, my reading kept going up. At this time, my reading finally ended up at .096.

They led me back to an isolation area in the building where the initial test was, right next to their offices. Brown told me I would be sent back to my unit first, that I was “Inebriated.”

They refused to provide the main gate login and my room card login to prove that I had been back on time after adjusting for travel time.

I was pronounced guilty by both of them of breaking their policy and immediately accused of being drunk. After this, the treatment I received got even worse.

I had gone from .055 to .096 within one hour, even though I had drank about two shots of whiskey the previous evening and had stopped before 9:00 pm (something which my in-law, whom I was with, and works with the D.C. Government attested to).

At this time, I was in a haze, in complete and utter shock!

Every possible explanation I tried to give was immediately taken by both of them to start building a case against me. My account became the words they immediately yelled at me, along with accusations by Brown and Moore. From my view, I felt they were motivated by something else.

See, both of them had taken any chance they got in the last three months to make my life as hellish as possible.

From random assignments to consistently calling me out of class for paperwork which I should not have been called out for, to all-around checks of my room for no reason, to mention a few.

It had been a hellish 3-month period at the barracks which they controlled, where my room. We were mostly under their control from 5 pm till 7 am on weekdays outside of class.

The worse had been the harassment on the ownership of my car.

I had a new 2018 Mid-size Volkswagen Atlas SUV; it was a bit unique, in comparison to other SUVs in the market. But somehow, it captured their intention and not in any reasonable way.

The Military would insist on multiple vehicle inspections before holidays before long-distance travel was allowed. They turned that into a very uncomfortable spectacle, always questioning my ownership, and then publicly and sternly telling me to return the vehicle to the owner.

As time went on, the unwarranted taunting just kept getting worse.

Consistent unnecessarily unwarranted vehicle inspections, at times, it would be everyone within the building with a vehicle, sometimes they would compile a list. Of course, my name always made any list.

One late afternoon they sent someone to get me for their usual free, public vehicle check, and I jokingly told the person that “I don’t have a vehicle, I borrowed it and returned it.” The next morning at 4:30 am, I was taken out for another inspection, followed by the regular berating to return the vehicle to the right owner.

And yes, the registration and insurance which they also checked bore my name.

And this was done by Moore and Brown.

Either way, as they took me around in their vehicle after that morning’s breathalyzer tests, the two of them kept acting antagonistically towards me.

They continuously made claims against me that were either not valid or a mischaracterization of what I said.

Then, Moore and Brown took me to my room. Their next action became the conduct of an upside-down search for any sign or alcohol or any other thing illegal, and obviously, there was none. Then my car was next, after which was the general trash area for the entire vicinity of about 40 Soldiers — No discoveries of illegal, contraband, or questionable items were made.

Immediate Outcome

My unit and its commander had sent me for my course. Despite this fact, the school’s leadership, which is independent of the detachment, was trying to mediate for other possible solutions.

Even though the detachment leadership insisted that I was supposedly “inebriated” by 8:00 am, I was still forcibly and summarily discharged from my course before noon, and then ordered to drive back home to New York more than four hours away.

It took a stop request by my unit in New York for Cage to let me leave at 6:00 am the following morning.

Brown and Moore took one last shot and told me to return the car to the owner.

By the time I begun to drive the next morning, my last meal had been a full 36 hours at my cousin’s house.

I went home, and to my unit, where a lot of this organization and factions, helped in playing Ping-Pong with my case for the longest.

The process in New York

There was no action on handling my case, and I felt that was the best way to go if I wanted to try and get a resolution and justice. So I filed an inspector general complaint almost three weeks later.

I made the complaint almost three weeks after getting home.

The complaint eventually received at the oversight office. They turned it into an Equal Opportunity charge.

Their justification for the change became my statement, and the quotes I submitted as part of the Inspector Generals report that I filed. Also cited, the way I detailed the inaccuracies and characterized the treatment of the detachment leadership of Cage, Brown, and Moore. Most notably, according to them, were the details. I claimed they had fabricated to my unit in New York — like their inaccurately characterized me as “smelling of alcohol and lying” on the day in their report.

However, I was not interested in being part of an Equal opportunity compliant based on race. I think those things are a complete waste of time and yield absolutely nothing. I had witnessed it happen in civilian life, and for me, the repercussions in the Military would be far worse.

I asked them to withdraw my complaint, but they refused! Everyone I spoke with about it, first softly dissuaded me about it, and even seemed to threaten me about it softly. I could not withdraw it.

The complaint then went around different offices on Fort Meade, about seven in total, and then ended up with the Detachment Equal Opportunity Compliant officers. They did some limited investigations. After about a month, they issued their report saying they could not find anything.

It ended up with a Sergeant First Class Jamel Reese, who happened to work under Cage. The final decision did, however, end up with Lieutenant Colonel Frank Chapeau, the Battalion Commander, and Captain Cage’s boss. With no real appeal after him.

I had always heard any positive outcome from this process was almost impossible.

Brigade commanders and battalion commanders were never supposed to override Company Commanders like Cage. It’s an unwritten rule in the Military. One I fully got to understand after my compliant went ahead. People in the Military came to explain how it works for me.

It’s the mafia Omerta. They had to support their direct subordinates at almost any cost.

One of the best parts came when the officer-in-charge of the Equal opportunity compliment, Chapeau called.

He wanted to chat a bit, and then when he finally got down to business, he requested the phone number of my leadership in New York. That was a Captain Olu Darafola and the Brigade commander, Colonel Philip Bequest.

I did not want to be the one who gave him the number. So I told him so. He then promised me that as per the new rules, all he wanted to do was to let them know that I was now part of an Equal Opportunity/discrimination case and that they should not retaliate against me or punish me in any way. It was part of the updated official procedure for handling such cases/complaints.

We had a back and forth for another 10 minutes, which included a bit of arm twisting and sweet-talking by him, and then I finally gave him the numbers.

That was the beginning of a new chapter.

That process continues

He called alright, and he feeds them direct information about my case. And it was mostly inaccurate and, in some cases, outright false.

I never went out of my way to find out what the information was, but Darafola made sure people in the unit of over Five hundred people got to hear.

Misrepresentations like: I had said exotic car (which I never mentioned), seemingly leaning to the false Nigerian fraud stereotype

s from Brown and Moore(which became their go-to) to statements that I was smelling alcohol on their report to make me look guilty.

Anyway, the purpose was to create a bad image of me so no one would question the punishment they had already planned to give after they had gone through a dress disciplinary process.

Either way, that disciplinary process started going through the motions.

And still, they did not provide any other evidence; they relied on the breathalyzer and false claims by the three leadership members. Which now ended up forming the basis for the entire case even with my unit.

Needless to say, after which, my unit went entirely into disciplining me, seemly with a desire to retaliate. I got demoted on April 15, 2019, the commander by the lowest unit(group) within the Brigade, Darafola, in charge of the proceeding.

Darafola, an officer with close-set eyes, brown skin, shaving sideburns on his sides, a round body type, balding head, dark-skinned, and a bit potbelly, with an aloof attitude, he made sure to dismiss, insult, and seemly assault me.

Darafola was not supposed to be the disciplinary officer (that should have been Bequest), somehow, that role fell on him. Either he fought for it, or they made him.

FYI: (If they made him do it, it would be on the ground that we are both from Nigeria. It would look aesthetically better. If he fought for it, it would be because we belong to different tribes in Nigeria, something he pointed out to everyone around from the first day we meet. It was that we were from tribes who have a lot of history of waging war against each other, both collectively and personally (This was the first time I had ever seen anyone attempting to make this point in America).

He had been one to welcome me to the unit by publicly telling everyone within earshot how we were from different tribes. Both of whom, Igbo and Yoruba, according to him, never saw eye to eye. I am ethnically Igbo, and he is Yoruba.

I had never encountered that type of tribalism/black discrimination outside of Africa.

Now, this had become a seemly perfect unlikely storm: some appropriate White Nationalists one side, and an African ethnic supremacist on the other.

As unlikely that one could catch this sort of lightning in a bottle, the Military is one place that could happen.

See, factually, the Military had such benefits that attracted a lot of people who would probably be on the lowest level of employment in society. These kind people are mostly those who might have little hope for a bright future, and then gives them the possible opportunities for life-changing advancement. It also provides a measure of respectability to the outside world (civilian) and a feeling of doing something respectable.

The trouble is that’s never the reality on the ground. The people that come from these bad backgrounds more often than not become worse human beings. There is a reason why the biggest problem in a supposed leadership building institution like the Military “is bad leadership.”

Either way, I had caught lightning in a bottle, which is very typical in the Army.

Another important thing is that inside the U.S Military, the population is very diverse. More often than not, it’s a good thing. There is the reality of people severing along with each other who are ethnic sworn, enemies. And they are unrepentant and have taught to be such.

Like white a supremacist next to a Jew, a gay person, or conscious black person, a conservative Palestine and Israeli next to each other, to less popular ones, a conscious Armenian next to a conservative Turk, or Rwandan Tutsi and Hutu’s next to each other, and many others. They are holding steady to their differences.

Not to mentions the noticeable cliques formed within these sorts of groups. But when a call to duty, we are supposed to act publicly like one unit, which, in my experience, was usually anything but one force. Any action that seems like crossing each other will often lead to adverse outcomes, by direct authority, or even under the radar.

After the hearing. Another hearing

My father died about three weeks after the judgment. So I spent the next two months helping conduct funerals in Cupertino, California, where he died, and Enugu, Nigeria, where he was from originally.

I duly informed the unit so they would understand that I would not be able to come for drills; they did not seem to care one bit. They proceeded to label me as a run-away to everyone within and around. The situation eventually aided a very hostile working environment.

After I requested time off to attend to my mental health arising from the trauma of my incident or the opportunity to be discharged, they refused my requests.

As my only offered solution, the next suggestion was that I come in and talk with the unit’s First Sergeant, Brain Manny, or the Commander, Darafola. I could only come in on the weekend drill. The next one was for three days next.

I got in there, and again, I had to wait, and I expected after waiting, I would get to see one or both of them the first day for a conversation. I did not get to see anybody. When I finally got to see someone, it was late on the second day it was Darafola. And, yes, it was another disciplinary hearing. We had found out just 20 minutes before the scheduled meeting for a simple conversation, after two days of waiting. We straightened up and walked in; then we sat down.

It was all the same, only this time, it was a different person walking me in. I felt no need to engage or defend myself — the outcome was inevitable, pre-ordained outcome.

I contacted legal services and was given the same military lawyer, Captain Burns who did nothing, again never meet me, and was more on the side of his friend Daramola. Urge me not to file any complaints.

Another demotion!

My mind was on my Military contract, which the expiring date was supposed to have been on February 16, 2020, but a requirement to extend it to October 2020 if I wanted to be in the role of a public affairs specialist was attached.

Either way, I had taken time off till August, now I returned, and again demoted. In addition to the fact that until now, I have not been allowed to graduate.

So I am writing now to share my story. Who knows, it might be useful in some way. I had wanted to either be allowed to have a proper military career as a public affairs specialist.

Now, I just want to be let out of my contract to move on with my life. Reporting anything in the Military is one of the worse things a Service member can do in my experience.

I have lived it firsthand. Now, I understand why suicide is a significant occurrence with current and former service members.

This experience left that kind of stain on my soul.