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AFTER IRAQ, VETERAN FACES WAR WITHIN -- Paul
Miles
was charged with six felonies, one related to
the
pipe bombing of a statue of the Virgin Mary.

Story here...
http://www.star-telegram.com/
275/story/92938.html
Story below:
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After Iraq, vet faces war within
By DAVID CASSTEVENS
Star-Telegram staff writer
Curtis and Shari Miles reach for a lifeline whenever they are asked
about Paul.
They take and hold each other's hand.
Married 27 years, this East Texas couple understands how much such a
small expression of support, of togetherness, means.
After their son Paul was arrested and jailed after a two-week stay at a
psychiatric hospital, the parents weren't allowed to touch him, much
less embrace him, as they did in December 2005. That's when the tall,
lanky soldier arrived at Fort Hood to a hero's welcome after an 11-month
deployment to Iraq.
About 3,000 American troops came home, all dressed in desert camouflage.
Even from a distance, Shari picked him out -- "There he is!" --
instantly recognizing his distinctive walk.
They hugged him. Loved him. They prayed every day during his absence and
thanked God when he was home at last.
One year later, Paul, wearing orange scrubs, sat in the Nacogdoches
County Jail.
His parents spoke to him through a small opening covered with wire mesh.
"Like the drive-through, at a bank," Shari bitterly recalled.
Last November, agents from the federal Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco,
Firearms and Explosives went to an off-campus apartment that Paul and
his roommate shared while attending Stephen F. Austin State University
in Nacogdoches. They found an explosive device made with PVC pipe and
black powder and other bomb-making materials. They also discovered a
drug-production operation.
Paul Miles was charged with six felonies, one related to the pipe
bombing of a statue of the Virgin Mary near the campus.
In March, federal prosecutors indicted him on two counts of failing to
register a firearm (explosive device).
If convicted, he faces a $250,000 maximum fine and up to 10 years in
federal prison.
He had no history of mental illness before he volunteered to serve in
Iraq as a member of the Texas Army National Guard. An Eagle Scout, Paul
had gone on missionary trips to Mexico and Eastern Europe. In high
school, he dressed as Santa Claus for a Christmas party at a residence
for the severely mentally retarded.
His parents believe his personality change and uncharacteristic
misconduct after his return was the result of military combat.
"Everybody who knows Paul agrees," Curtis Miles said. "They say, 'Paul
came back different.' Or, 'Miles didn't come back.' Over and over, in
interviews, it's the same theme. Paul changed when he was over there."
They say they are angry that the government he bravely fought for seeks
to punish him rather than provide the treatment it has promised
In the wake of a scandal over outpatient treatment of wounded troops at
the Walter Reed Army Medical Center, U.S. Sen. John Cornyn of Texas
said, "We must do whatever it takes ... to best meet the medical and
other needs of those who defend our nation's freedom."
On March 6, President Bush addressed the American Legion national
conference in Washington, D.C.
"We have a moral obligation," the president said, "to provide the best
possible care and treatment to the men and women who have served our
country. They deserve it, and they're going to get it."
Sgt. Paul Miles, 23, has been diagnosed with bipolar disorder.
Awaiting a competency hearing and possible criminal trial, he remains
behind bars in a federal prison in Fort Worth.
From the garden to the war
Libby Nelson stands 5 feet tall.
"When I first met Paul, I was taller than he was," she recalled. "That's
how long I've known him."
The Marshall woman, who attends the same Bible church as the Miles
family, fondly told of a day about 10 years ago when she visited their
home in nearby Hallsville and found the boy tending to his vegetable
garden.
"Paul, I believe you're going to be a farmer," she said, admiring his
green beans.
He informed the family friend that he planned to attend West Point and
become a military man when he grew older.
In July 2001, the summer before his high school senior year, he joined
the Texas Army National Guard. He told his parents that he wanted to be
ready to serve in the event of an emergency or catastrophe. On Sept. 11,
his older sister telephoned her parents, in tears. Elizabeth asked, "Is
Paul going to war?"
After graduation, he was sent to Oregon, where his troop guarded a U.S.
Army chemical-weapons depot. Near the end of his freshman year at
Stephen F. Austin, he sat down with his mom and dad and told them what
neither wanted to hear. He planned to put his education on hold. He was
volunteering to go to Iraq. His parents didn't try to change his mind.
"He made a moral choice -- an ethical decision," the father said. "We
tried to teach him to do that. Paul said, 'I can go back to college and
go to fraternity parties and chase girls, but if I do that, my buddies
who have jobs and wives and kids will have to leave and go to war. Why
don't I go now, so they don't have to?'"
In January 2005, he arrived in Iraq, where he served as a security guard
and a gunner, patrolling streets in a Humvee. During one of several
life-threatening convoy missions, he escaped injury when an improvised
explosive device blew the turret off his vehicle. Miles also played a
peacemaking role, using what Arabic he had learned to mediate a tense
situation between his patrol and an Iraqi wedding party. For his action,
he was awarded the Army Commendation Medal.
During a two-week leave, Miles returned to East Texas and spent one
morning visiting Morning Light, a home in Marshall for a dozen severely
mentally retarded adults. The uniformed soldier posed for photos with
each smiling resident.
"Paul is kind of their hero," said Pam Spurr, administrative assistant
at the facility.
Miles appeared happy and whole, undamaged, on that December day when he
returned home to stay, his duty done.
But his war experience -- or something else -- tugged a psychological
thread that led to his mental unraveling.
The week he left the theater of operation, Miles filled out a
Post-Deployment Health Assessment.
On his medical discharge evaluation, he was asked, "Have you ever had
any experience that was so frightening, horrible or upsetting that, IN
THE PAST MONTH, you felt numb or detached from others, activities, or
your surroundings?"
He answered "Yes."
"Are you having thoughts or concerns that you may have serious conflicts
with your spouse, family members or close friends?"
Answer: "Yes."
"Are you having thoughts or concerns that you might hurt or lose control
with someone?"
Answer: "Unsure."
Each person who fills out the Department of Defense form receives a
face-to-face assessment with a trained healthcare provider within 30
days of returning home. Miles' attorney, Wes Volberding, has no
complaint with the Army review process.
It's not unusual, he said, for a combat soldier to feel "a bit
strung-out" after a long deployment, and the answers Miles gave weren't
extraordinary.
The attorney said Miles' mental deterioration began slowly.
His parents first witnessed signs of post-traumatic stress disorder when
Miles drove the family car. He suddenly floored the accelerator and
turned the wheel sharply as he approached an underpass in Killeen. It
was as if a memory, like a high-resolution photo, had flashed in his
head. For an instant, he was back in a war zone, where insurgents hid
along roads and crouched atop bridges and danger was ever-present.
Alarmed, Curtis Miles asked his son what was wrong.
Paul Miles slowed the vehicle and said, reminding himself, "Oh ... I
don't have to do that now."
He lived with his parents only a few days before he returned to
Nacogdoches.
Back in college, he grew irritable and remote. He began drinking more.
He couldn't sleep and lost weight. His grades fell.
At some point, Curtis Miles told his son that if he had psychological
concerns, resources were available through the National Guard and the
Veterans Administration. His son was reluctant to seek help. "He thought
if he said he had problems, it could affect his career," the father
said.
Miles' mental state was like a growing shadow, an eclipse blotting out
his good nature.
The same considerate young man who joined his sister and mother on a
Crusade for Christ mission trip to Moldova last summer was sending what
his lawyer described as "ugly" e-mails to friends.
"He never made an explicit threat to harm anyone," Volberding said. "You
can follow the progression. Into the summer and fall, the e-mails got
darker in tone."
It took a wake-up call for the parents to begin to fathom just how much
their son needed help.
'Very severe mental illness'
Curtis Miles looked at the clock.
It was about 5 a.m. last Nov. 20. He sat up in bed and reached for the
ringing phone.
The Nacogdoches police were calling.
Four hours earlier, Paul Miles' roommate, Carl Timmons, a fellow
National Guardsman and Iraq veteran, had appeared at the campus police
station where he accused Miles of assaulting him in their apartment.
According to the campus police report, Timmons said Miles had also
beaten a cat to death in recent weeks and, after keeping it in a
freezer, hanged the animal from a flagpole outside the Stephen F. Austin
military science building. He also claimed Miles had spoken of "shooting
kids at the high school and placing a bomb at the high school."
The campus police report stated that Timmons didn't want to press
assault charges because he said he feared Miles would shoot him.
Nacogdoches police went to the apartment, where Miles made incoherent
statements. He was taken to a local hospital and tested for drugs -- the
results were negative -- and then taken in handcuffs to a psychiatric
center in Shreveport.
Meanwhile, law officers obtained a search warrant. According to police
reports, police and ATF agents found a PVC pipe 1 inch in diameter,
black powder and fuses, as well as one completed pipe bomb.
Inside Miles' closet -- Timmons produced the key -- they also found
marijuana plants and psilocybin mushrooms.
Timmons told police that late one night, two months earlier, Timmons,
Miles and a mutual friend had tested one of the explosive devices by
taping it to the face of a 4-foot plaster statue of the Virgin Mary near
a Catholic chapel on campus.
Timmons later pleaded guilty to one federal count of unlawful possession
of a destructive device (pipe bomb).
Dr. Gregory Seal examined Miles at Brentwood Hospital in Shreveport. In
his evaluation, the psychiatrist described the troubled soldier as
rambling during the interview, stating, "I don't want the cops to die. I
needed new boots." Seal diagnosed Miles as suffering from bipolar
disorder without psychotic features, meaning the patient showed signs of
mental illness but he wasn't dangerous or psychotic. Miles denied ever
threatening to harm anyone.
He was treated with two psychiatric medications, and his condition
improved during the next two weeks.
Seal concluded in a letter that any criminal activity Miles may have
committed was the result of a "very severe mental illness."
The day before the hospital planned to discharge Miles to his home,
police arrested him and later placed him in the Nacogdoches jail.
His parents' fight
The government can make the argument that anyone who builds an explosive
device and blows up property has mental concerns.
"There is no 'military service' exception for criminal activity," said
John Ratcliffe, first assistant U.S. attorney for the Eastern District
of Texas, and a representative of "USA" in USA vs. Paul Jeffery-Leon
Miles.
The case against Miles, he said, remains on hold pending a psychological
exam and competency hearing.
"We are federal prosecutors, not federal doctors," Ratcliffe said.
Meanwhile, Curtis and Shari Miles fill out paperwork seeking permission
to visit their son and wonder when and how this family nightmare will
end. They are spending "tens of thousands" of dollars to fund his legal
defense. Miles' attorney denied a Star-Telegram request to interview or
photograph his client.
Pasting on hopeful smiles, the parents voice their steadfast belief that
jailing Paul is wrong, and not because he is their own.
"I've tried to separate this out, so I don't have the issue of loving
the one I talk about," Curtis Miles said.
"So here is a kid who everybody says changed after he came back from the
war. ... He hasn't hurt anybody and is charged with a rather technical
violation. Is this a kid I want to throw in prison?
"In this country, we have a huge bias against mental health issues. ...
During Vietnam if a [veteran] committed a petty crime, what did we do?
We locked him up. Did they get the mental healthcare they need? No. So
they come out, as a convicted felon with a mental health problem, and
say, 'Will you hire me?' That doesn't work. They are even further
traumatized. They can't get meaningful work. They don't get treatment
and get thrown back in prison."
Curtis Miles looked at his wife and clutched her hand.
"You can go down the streets in Fort Worth and see 50- and 60-year-old
men who are Vietnam vets who spent their whole adult lives in and out of
prison and on the streets because we want to take soldiers who are
heroes, that are damaged, and throw them in prison rather than give them
the help that they need.
"That's what we did in Vietnam. And starting to do right now.
"Paul is a good example."
Q & A On the mental health needs of combat veterans:
Question: Who's affected?
Answer: The American Psychological Association issued a report in
February that calls attention to the growing mental health needs of
military personnel and their families that are straining the military
health services system. Issued by a task force on military deployment,
the report said more than 30 percent of all combat soldiers returning
from deployment reported some mental health concerns, but less than half
of them -- 23 percent to 40 percent -- sought help. A Defense Department
task force recently reported that mental health concerns are more severe
among members of the National Guard, at 49 percent, because of repeated
deployments to Iraq and Afghanistan.
Q: What is post-traumatic stress disorder?
A: PTSD, sometimes called combat fatigue or shell shock, is an anxiety
disorder that can develop after exposure to a traumatic event. It can
lead to bipolar disorder, which is characterized by episodes of mania
and depression. PTSD has been reported as the most prevalent mental
health concern among combat veterans who served in Iraq.
Q: Are there other mental health concerns?
A: Studies have shown that soldiers returning from combat may also
suffer from substance abuse, severe depression and readjustment
problems.
Q: What's being done?
A: Under a bill pending in the Legislature, Texas combat veterans and
their families would be able to call the state's 2-1-1 telephone network
service to get help for post-traumatic stress disorder and other mental
health problems. "It is our duty as a legislative body to protect those
who protect us," says Sen. Royce West, D-Dallas, author of Senate Bill
1058. "Helping our military families survive the aftermath of war is the
least we can do for our Texas patriots." The 2-1-1 system is a free
number connecting callers with health and human services in their
community. The Texas Senate approved the bill April 23, and it is now
pending in the House. In addition, a task force directed by Congress
issued an urgent warning Thursday, saying that repeated deployments of
combat veterans is putting troops at great risk of mental health
problems. The Defense Department's Task Force on Mental Health said that
the current staffing and money for military healthcare won't be able to
meet the need. Its findings will be given to Defense Secretary Robert
Gates in June.
-- Star-Telegram
dcasstevens@star-telegram.com
David Casstevens, 817-390-7436
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Larry Scott --