| NEWS | Deadly from p 8 Springer says it’s not the difficult condi- tions that drive people to suicide, but a sense of betrayal they feel when the orga- nization they were excited to be a part of throws them under the proverbial bus. “All of a sudden, everything that you know, the group of people that you love, like family, you’re moved into a different life entirely, very quickly at times,” Springer said. “When there’s a betrayal or an abandonment, then we’re talking about not just trauma, but a moral injury as well. And those are some of the hardest for my patients to heal from.” Toxic Leadership Caserta’s parents said their son didn’t let his career setbacks get him down. He was excelling in his role at the squadron’s snack bar. People liked him. He figured out what candy sold best, and helped the snack bar rake in a bunch of cash. He was even recog- nized for his efforts. “ They made even more money than they ever made,” Patrick said. “And he was labeled the hardest, best worker in the command.” “It was like the water cooler over there,” Teri said. “They would go there just to talk to him. They liked him.” It wasn’t long until Brandon fell victim to a common problem in the military: toxic leadership. Toxic leadership represents the number one complaint filed with the Office of the Inspector General, according to a 2018 report. Bullying, hazing, harassment, and toxic work environments are rampant in the armed services. Reports from 2020 found 52 substantiated cases of hazing and nearly 6,300 reported sexual assaults across the services, although actual numbers are likely much higher since hazing and sexual assault are underreported, the same report said. According to anonymous command climate surveys obtained through a public records request, anywhere between 85 and 98 percent of respondents reported work- place hostility aboard U.S. Navy ships deployed to Japan, for instance. Springer says a toxic work environ- ment affects most people who serve in the military, and is more likely to lead to thoughts of suicide than engagement in combat action. “It’s these intimate personal betrayals, 10 these sudden changes in identity, group identity, who we are, whether we belong to a group, these are the things that impact us at the core of who we are,” Springer said. In Brandon’s case, his leaders seized on the fact that he dropped out of SEAL training to pick on him. In the Navy, someone who fails out of BUD/S is often mockingly referred to as a “BUD/S Dud.” Sometimes, it’s good-humored ribbing from a friend. In Brandon’s case, it came situations at home, and, like some people who are released from prison, return to civilian life with zero support, Springer says. They are left to navigate what advo- cates call a bureaucratic and confusing system of local, state, and federal veterans services. Veterans in Arizona are almost twice as likely as nonveterans to die by suicide, according to the most recent VA data. In 2020, the state government budgeted about $80 million to the Arizona Department of Veterans Services. About $1.2 million of that budget — 1.5 percent — went to suicide prevention, according to state budget records. The 2021 state budget cut 12 percent from the depart- ment, even though the number of veterans it serves grew by about 4,000. The state-funded veterans’ services are Scott Bourque from his chain of command, all the way down to his frontline supervisor, investi- gators said. “They started picking on him and calling him a BUD/S Dud,” Patrick said. “If you look at Brandon’s picture, it’d be hard to criticize him. I guess that was the only thing they could come up with.” His parents said the bullying increased and spread like cancer to the rest of the unit. His frontline supervisor, a first class petty officer, led the charge — even taking bets on whether Brandon would kill himself, Patrick said. Official investigations conducted by the Navy Judge Advocate General (JAG) and the Naval Criminal Investigative Service (NCIS) blamed 13 individuals within Brandon’s chain of command for creating a hostile environment that led to his suicide. Caserta’s supervisor had been previ- ously counseled for his harsh leadership style, the command’s internal investigation said. In January 2018, the supervisor was removed from his position and ordered to attend anger management classes. After Caserta’s death, multiple sailors who worked under that supervisor sent anony- mous reports to the squadron commander Teri and Patrick Caserta in their son Brandon’s childhood bedroom in Peoria. saying that the supervisor’s “harsh and demeaning vernacular” had not stopped. The supervisor’s “noted belligerence, vulgarity, and brash leadership was likely a significant contributing factor to [Caserta’s] decision to end his own life,” the investigation said. “It is clear from the evidence that [the supervisor’s] behavior towards his subordinates was verbally abusive and demeaning.” “In an unhealthy chain of command,” Springer said, “a person will be doubly victimized not just by the first thing that happened to them, but by their experience of others pushing that under the rug, and not believing it.” Nobody in Brandon’s command was charged with any crime related to his suicide. “They recommended charges” against Brandon’s frontline supervisor, Patrick said. “But they never pursued them.” His supervisor was given a derogatory perfor- mance evaluation and allowed to continue serving in the Navy, albeit reassigned to a different unit. “The way they kill these people, it’s manipulation, bullying, hazing, they know what they’re doing,” Patrick said, adding, “Thirteen people [in Brandon’s squadron] have blood on their hands.” Is Arizona Doing Enough? If Brandon had survived his enlistment, he would have returned home to Arizona and applied to join the Phoenix Police Department, his parents said. Fortunately for him, he had a strong support system awaiting his return. “He was welcome home any time,” Teri Austin Collins (U.S. Navy) A sailor conducts maintenance on the tail rotor of an MH-60S Helicopter. Caserta said. “There’s a video game room with an 80-inch TV. That area was his. Also the bathroom … the whole side of the house was his. He could have lived here.” Many veterans aren’t so lucky. They often join the military to escape difficult concentrated in the urban areas of Phoenix and Tucson, though most veterans live in rural counties, according to U.S. Census Bureau data. But all the veterans services in the world won’t reach everybody, Springer says. The problem is cultural: Veterans have been conditioned to be afraid to seek help. The system is often seen as punitive: A veteran who admits suicidal ideations could be involuntarily committed or have their firearms seized. “They carry that same mentality of the fear of consequences when they come out of the military into another health care setting,” Springer said. “Often, their first instinct is to say ‘I don’t know if I trust you yet. I don’t want to risk losing my fire- arms, I don’t want to risk being put into an inpatient unit.’” In her eight years working with the VA, Springer says she saw only two veterans hospitalized for suicidal ideation. Neither had their firearms confiscated. But the fear is pervasive, and reinforced through cultural stereotypes. “I want us to be able to talk about suicidal ideation, the dark things that you go through, without the fear that I’m going to overreact and take away your rights [or] go after your firearm,” Springer said. Caserta’s parents don’t blame the state or veterans service agencies like the VA. In their eyes, every veteran suicide is the fault of the military. “Active duty [service] is responsible,” Patrick said. “The problem [that led to the suicide] was caused on active duty. It was not caused by the VA.” Just Be a Man, Snowflake Older generations who are active on social media don’t seem to understand why people in the military often choose suicide. In news articles about Brandon Caserta, some commenters blamed the millennials and Gen Zers for being too sensitive to handle military service. Others blamed the Obama and Biden administrations for catering to so-called “wokeness” at the JUNE 2ND– JUNE 8TH, 2022 PHOENIX NEW TIMES | MUSIC | CAFE | FILM | CULTURE | NIGHT+DAY | FEATURE | NEWS | OPINION | FEEDBACK | CONTENTS | phoenixnewtimes.com
