[Program Manager],

I never said this directly to you before. It feels like an oversight. I want to name it explicitly for the record.

It was your job to protect me from [Park Supervisor] and [Park Manager].

I was a volunteer for Oregon State Parks. Not just Honeyman. I had an entire year planned along this coast and an entire life oriented around service to your institution.

A local supervisor and manager should not be able to bully and intimidate an unpaid volunteer the way they did. The fact they could means this institution has selected for people who abuse their authority — and for people above them who look away.

When I documented my treatment — when you called me about the recording — your response should have been to help me. That's what someone in your role does in a healthy institution. That's what someone with your background should have felt compelled to do.

What I didn't understand at the time is that for you it was just another day at the office. The mistreatment was not alarming to you. The fact I documented it was.

A week after that call, a man appears while I'm alone — no ID, no uniform, no name — to question me while everyone is gone. That doesn't just happen. That was coordinated above the park level.

A week after that, dismissed by phone. The next day, you attacked me repeatedly on that call. One of the most abusive and unethical recordings I have ever witnessed.

A day after that, retaliation for protected speech, on agency letterhead with your signature.

A year to the day after that, police at my door for documenting it.

You were never there to help me. You were there to finish what that local supervisor and manager had set in motion. The facts be damned. Ethics be damned. You would become a sledgehammer.

You ended my entire trajectory when you chose to treat me as a problem instead of the victim I was.

All because a man documented reality.

It was your job to protect me. And on Day 386, you continue the harm.

Robert Samuel White