For a guy with as little apparent regard for the law as he has, Scott Fewins is in a strange line of work.
The Grand Traverse County sheriff just cost county taxpayers $13,000 because of his refusal to simply obey the law.
Attorney Grant Parsons had submitted a state Freedom of Information Act request with the sheriff's department for all reports and any supplemental information connected to the death of Craig Carlson, an Interlochen man shot and killed by a sheriff's department sniper after a long standoff in November.
As these things go it was a relatively routine request. Parsons is representing some of Carlson's relatives, who are considering a wrongful death suit. Requests for reports and information in such cases are to be expected, even anticipated.
Fewins, however, decided to play games.
His department refused to release a review of the shooting by the Michigan State police, claiming they didn't think they had the entire report. They told Parsons to talk to the MSP.
That's not what the law says. If the department didn't have the entire MSP report (which isn't credible anyway) all Fewins had to do to comply with the FOIA request was give Parsons what he had. Period.
Fewins also failed to release a report from the internal review board, which cleared Deputy Charles Jetter, who fired the fatal shot, of wrongdoing.
The excuse? Undersheriff Nate Alger (Fewins will only be quoted on good-news stories) said the department thought the review board report was a "completely separate incident." Separate from what? Not from the shooting, certainly, since that is what the review board was all about. Separate from reality?
Assistant County Prosecutor Bob Cooney also covered for Fewins.
"Mistakes were made, of a technical nature," he said. "There was no intent to conceal information."
Right. In plain English, claiming "technical mistakes" usually means someone was looking for any excuse to not release information in the first place.
Alger said the Freedom of Information Act is "an extremely complicated statute." So how do dozens of public bodies figure it out every day?
This was nothing more than an effort to stall Parsons and Carlson's relatives.
The county even went to court to dismiss Parsons' FOIA request. But once 13th Circuit Judge Thomas G. Power denied the motion, most of what Parsons had asked for in the first place was produced. Suddenly, the FOIA wasn't so "complicated" or "technical."
The final admission came when the Grand Traverse County board agreed to pay Parsons $13,000 in legal fees and costs. (So how many potholes could the Road Commission fill with a $13,000 donation from the county?)
All of this could have been avoided if Fewins had been transparent and forthcoming from the minute the Carlson standoff began. Instead, there have been numerous questions raised about how the incident was handled and various versions of what took place. The question remains: Did Craig Carlson have to die?
More than 60 police officers swarmed the site; Fewins was allegedly heard telling fellow officers they would have to "take out" Carlson; communication with Carlson's family was cut off; some officers said they never heard Carlson shout threats at police as Fewins claimed.
A review of the incident by Kalkaska County Prosecutor Brian Donnelly didn't include ballistics reports or photos or drawings of the scene or the kind of data that is routine in such incidents. Parsons called it a whitewash.
It may well be that deputy Jetter was fully justified in shooting Carlson, who he claimed was aiming a gun at officers with his finger on the trigger. The problem is that Fewins -- who was in charge during the 11-hour standoff -- has refused to provide the firsthand data needed to answer the lingering questions and put the matter to rest.
He owes that much to Carlson's family and to deputy Jetter. He certainly owes that -- and $13,0000 -- to county taxpayers.






