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Federal inspector Tommy Hinchman had a different job: to review mine ventilation plans. Hinchman says Nelson paid him for help in drafting those plans, the same ones that Hinchman would later approve as an inspector. Says Nelson: "All Tommy Hinchman's done -- if he's guilty of anything -- was move me to the front of the line to get me through something. Common courtesy." In July Hinchman pleaded guilty to accepting a gratuity from Nelson.
Hinchman was sentenced to four months of home confinement, with permission to leave only for work and for church. But life has dealt Hinchman a more severe punishment. Instead of a government desk job, he now works in one of the private mines whose ventilation plans he approved. He complains of the physical rigors and of how, hours after he exits the mine, his nostrils are still black with coal dust. And in the mining community in which he lives, he must endure the suspicions of those who feel betrayed. "I did not jeopardize the health and safety of the coal miners -- I respect them," he says, his eyes filling with tears.
Nelson, who has not been charged with any criminal wrongdoing, says Vannatter's allegations are grossly exaggerated. It was either pay up or be shut down by petty violations, he claims. "Do you think I created the system and I'm the only one that done it? No, buddy, the system created me. I am a victim; so is everybody else in this state who tries to do business," says Nelson, who insists he would never put the miners at risk. "I would rather lose everything I've got right now than cost a man his life."
In February 1990, a 39-year-old miner named Millard David Frye was killed in a Logan County mine. Corruption did not cause his death, but just days earlier inspector Massey had been recorded telling the mine's consultant, Phil Nelson, that Massey might be able to influence the inspection of the mine. As for other mines, Massey suggested he "could cut down on where the inspectors go."
Frye had worked in the mine only since the previous October, when he was called back to work after a long layoff. He was a quiet man who enjoyed squirrel hunting and had a 12-year-old son and a 17-year-old daughter. A few weeks before he was killed, Frye told his wife Gail about a close call he had at the mine. "It was like he knew when something was going to happen," says Gail. "I'd ask him, 'Don't that scare you? How can you go back in there?' He'd say, 'You just go in.' "
One of the first to reach the accident scene was inspector Massey. For nearly half an hour he tried to resuscitate Frye, but it was too late. Frye had been crushed by a 9-ft. slab of rock. His fellow miners took up a collection, which was matched by the mining company, and gave Frye's widow $4,000 for burial expenses. At the foot of the grave in Forest Lawn Cemetery is a marker that reads WE LOVE YOU DAD. His widow worries about her son, who can barely bring himself to talk about the loss. For now, young Michael shows little interest in the mines. The question remains: Will he have a choice?