Tradicionalni recepti

Restoran tužen zbog samoubojstva zaposlenika

Restoran tužen zbog samoubojstva zaposlenika

Watami lanac tužili roditelji zaposlenika

Watami, popularni lanac japanskih restorana, tuže roditelji bivše zaposlenice.

Veliki japanski lanac restorana našao se jučer usred složene tužbe, kada su roditelji bivše zaposlenice podnijeli tužbu zbog smrti svoje kćeri.

Prema Mainichi, 26-godišnja Mina Mori počinila je samoubojstvo 2008. godine, samo dva mjeseca nakon što je počela raditi za Watami, popularni japanski lanac restorana. U lancu je radila s punim radnim vremenom, a mjesečni prekovremeni rad iznosio joj je oko 141 sat, što je znatno preko nacionalnog ograničenja od 80 sati mjesečno. Nakon dva mjeseca u Watamiju, Mori se ubila skokom iz stambenog kompleksa, ostavivši samoubilačku poruku u kojoj je pisalo: "Molim vas da mi netko pomogne."

Prošle je godine lokalni inspekcijski ured za standarde rada presudio da je Morijevo samoubojstvo nesreća na poslu, a tada su Mori roditelji zatražili od tvrtke da objasni što je uzrokovalo samoubojstvo njihove kćeri i koje će korake poduzeti da se spriječi takva tragedija opet. Tvrtka nije odgovorila.

Sada, rekavši da od tvrtke nisu primili odgovarajuće objašnjenje i da se uvjeti rada neće promijeniti ako netko ne poduzme mjere, Morijevi roditelji podnijeli su tužbu protiv Watamija, njegove matične tvrtke, i čovjeka koji je bio Watamijev predsjednik u vrijeme Mori smrt. Moris traži odštetu od oko 153 milijuna jena (približno 1,5 milijuna dolara).

"Žalosno je što nismo mogli pristati riješiti stvar", rekao je Watami u priopćenju. "Pobrinut ćemo se da se iskreno pobrinemo za slučaj nakon pregleda žalbe."


Dvije medicinske sestre umrle su od predoziranja u bolnici u Dallasu. Što je pošlo po zlu?

Sestra je ležala u kupaonici, sa špricom u ruci i tragovima na ruci. Umrla je od predoziranja fentanilom, snažnim lijekom protiv bolova namijenjenim pacijentima.

Bila je to rijetka nesreća prije dvije godine u bolnici Clements u Dallasu UT Southwestern Medical Center.

Otprilike 16 mjeseci kasnije, druga medicinska sestra pronađena je u drugoj kupaonici u Clementsu, sa štrcaljkom u ruci. I ona se predozirala i umrla je od iste droge.

UT Southwestern objavio je nekoliko detalja o smrti medicinskih sestara i kaže da ne može sa sigurnošću reći odakle su lijekovi došli. No, stručnjaci kažu da kad zdravstveni radnici zloupotrebljavaju lijekove, oni gotovo uvijek kradu lijekove sa svog radnog mjesta. Vlastiti izvještaji bolnice i zapisnici liječnika pokazuju da je to vjerojatno objašnjenje, prema istrazi koju je provela Jutarnje vijesti iz Dallasa.

Ova vrsta krađe, poznata kao preusmjeravanje lijekova, ozbiljna je stvar za bolnice, posebno usred nacionalne opioidne epidemije. U posljednje četiri godine, na primjer, teksaške bolnice prijavile su više od 200 krađa zaposlenika. No, vlada ne prati krađe droga koje dovode do predoziranja ili smrti.

Medicinske sestre i liječnici koji kradu i zlouporabljavaju lijekove ne izlažu sebe samoj opasnosti, već i pacijentima. Posljednjih je godina savezna vlada naplatila milijune dolara kazni bolnicama zbog ne praćenje opasnih lijekova.

Neobično je da u jednoj bolnici u tako kratkom vremenu dva njegovatelja umru od predoziranja, kažu stručnjaci.

"Ovo je ekstreman primjer", rekla je Kimberly New, medicinska sestra i odvjetnica u Tennesseeju koja se savjetuje s bolnicama širom zemlje o tome kako spriječiti preusmjeravanja. "Ta vrsta alarmantne situacije bila bi razlog da nekoga dovedete i pogledate njegove kontrole."

Dužnosnici UT Southwestern odbili su navesti koje su mjere poduzeli kako bi spriječili diverziju droga nakon smrti.

Oni su rekli Vijesti da nije bilo "prijavljenih propusta skrbi o pacijentima" povezanih s incidentima. Sigurnost je glavna briga, rekli su. Clements ima različite postupke za sprječavanje krađe lijekova, a bolnica je koristila "višestruke sustave pregleda" i povećala edukaciju osoblja o zlouporabi droga od smrti.

"Budući da niti jedan sustav nije nepogrešiv, neprestano ispitujemo moguća poboljšanja" kako bismo osigurali da se opasni lijekovi ne zloupotrebljavaju, rekao je glasnogovornik sveučilišta Russell Rian u izjavi Vijesti.

Stručnjaci kažu da se krađe mogu dogoditi unatoč brojnim mjerama zaštite.

"Možete imati zaista dobre sustave i još uvijek biti poraženi diverzijom", rekao je Keith Berge, liječnik na klinici Mayo u Minnesoti koji proučava to pitanje.

Problemi u Clementsu

Sveučilišna bolnica Williams P. Clements Jr., nazvana po dvostrukom guverneru Teksasa i porijeklom iz Dallasa, otvorena je krajem 2014. na bulevaru Harryja Hinesa, zamijenivši stariju bolnicu modernom ustanovom s 460 kreveta. UT Southwestern Medical Center vodi bolnicu.

Kao i sve veće bolnice, Clements ima unutarnju ljekarnu u kojoj se čuvaju lijekovi koji izazivaju ovisnost, poput anestetika, sedativa i lijekova protiv bolova, tako snažnih da ih ne možete pronaći u svojoj ljekarni.

Vladini propisi zahtijevaju od bolnica poput Clementsa da vode točnu evidenciju o upotrebi takvih lijekova, da imaju uspostavljen sustav za brzo otkrivanje preusmjeravanja i da prijavljuju krađe.

Početkom 2015. interni revizori UT Southwestern otkrili su nedostatke u načinu na koji su Clements i druge sveučilišne ustanove upravljale opasnim drogama.

Mnogi zaposlenici imali su neovlašteni pristup drogama. U Sveučilišnoj bolnici Clements i Zale Lipshy zaposlenici nisu pravilno zbrinuli višak lijekova. Tekućine su ispuštane u sudopere, što je kršenje saveznih ekoloških pravila. Zaposlenici nisu odlagali pilule ili flastere u sigurne posude.

UT Southwestern je rekao da je slijedio sve revizorske preporuke za poboljšanja.

Manje od godinu dana kasnije, medicinska sestra je uhvaćena u krađi droge.

Krađa i uhićenje

U siječnju 2016. suradnici su sumnjali da je medicinska sestra krala drogu, prema evidenciji policijske uprave UT Southwestern.

Medicinska sestra radila je u jedinici koja je liječila pacijente koji su se oporavili od operacije. Osoblje ne smije uklanjati lijekove iz zaključanog ormarića sve dok pacijent ne stigne iz operacijske sobe.

No, prema policijskom izvješću, Aaron Bradley Hudson, medicinska sestra koja je radila za privremenu agenciju, odjavila bi lijekove i odnijela ih u kupaonicu prije nego što su mu stigli pacijenti. Suradnici su uočili prazne šprice u obližnjim kupaonicama za osoblje.

Prijava sumnjivog ponašanja važan je alat za sprječavanje preusmjeravanja droga, navodi UT Southwestern u izjavi Vijesti.

Tog siječnja, istog mjeseca kada je Hudson ukrao lijekove, UT Southwestern osnovao je odbor za rješavanje pitanja preusmjeravanja kontroliranih tvari "kao dio stalnih obveza i napora da se stalno poboljšava sigurnost pacijenata i njegovatelja".

Hudson je 2017. izgubio dozvolu za njegu u Teksasu i početkom ove godine priznao je krivnju zbog prijevare dobivanja kontrolirane tvari. Umro je samoubojstvom u lipnju u 39. godini.

Hudson je bio pametan i smiješan i uživao je u svom poslu, rekla je njegova majka Cindy Huffine. No, borio se i s ovisnošću o opijatima.

"Jednom kada mu je predstavljen lijek te veličine", rekao je Huffine, "to mu nije odgovaralo."

Prvo predoziranje

Nekoliko mjeseci nakon što je Hudson ukrala lijekove, druga medicinska sestra - Patricia Norman - počela je pokazivati ​​znakove da se možda drogira.

Norman, koji je obitelji i prijateljima poznat kao Tricia, radio je na odjelu intenzivne njege srca u Clementsu od početka 2015. Njezina je majka rekla da je htjela biti medicinska sestra od svoje 15. godine. Obitelj ju je opisala kao neustrašivu i umjetničku, sa osmijeh koji je pokazivao njezine rupice.

Njezine 12-satne smjene obično su završavale oko 19 sati, rekao je njezin brat Mark Norman. Prisjetio se da bi ponekad njegova sestra, nakon što je stigla kući s posla, počela ulaziti u zidove njihovog stana.

Norman je porekao upotrebu droga, rekao je njezin brat. Kad bi je upitao o štrcaljkama i praznim bočicama s lijekovima koje je pronašao u njihovom stanu, Norman bi rekao da ih je zaboravila baciti na posao.

No, drugi događaji ukazuju na to da se Norman možda borio sa ovisnošću.

U svibnju 2016. policija i bolničari Highland Parka odazvali su se pozivu oko 19:30. na Mockingbird Laneu u blizini Dallas North Tollwaya, oko tri milje od Clementsa. Norman je toga dana radio. Pronađena je bez svijesti unutar svoje sive Honde Accord, zajedno s korištenom špricom, pokazuju zapisi. Prolaznik je slomio prozor automobila kako bi Normana izvukao iz spasilačkog osoblja koji je započeo CPR i Normanu se vratio puls.

Kad se probudila, rekla je bolničarima da koristi lijekove na recept za bolove u vratu. Rekla je i da si je ubrizgala lijek protiv mučnine te da je uzela Xanax.

Hitna pomoć odvezla je Normana do hitne pomoći Memorijalne bolnice Parkland, odmah niz ulicu od Clementsa.

Policija Highland Parka nije istražila je li Norman koristio nedopuštene droge, rekao je poručnik Lance Koppa. Kako je policajac na mjestu događaja vidio, nije se dogodio nikakav zločin, rekao je Koppa.

Manje od dva mjeseca kasnije, policija u Dallasu pronašla je Normana u nesvijesti u automobilu, opet nakon posla i nekoliko kilometara od Clementsa. Zapisi pokazuju da joj je na lijevoj ruci bio vezica, a u krilu igla.

Spasioci su ponovno razbili prozor kako bi ušli u Normanovu Hondu. Zapisi pokazuju da su za njezino oživljavanje morali koristiti nalokson - lijek koji se koristio za poništavanje predoziranja opioidima.

Ovaj put, spasioci su odveli Normana na hitnu u Clements. Prema policijskom izvješću, policajci su znali da ona tamo radi i razgovarali su s nadzornikom o incidentu. Policija u Dallasu odnijela je iglu i vezicu u prostoriju za dokaze i proslijedila slučaj svom odjelu za narkotike.

Normanova majka, Jeri Van, dala je Vijesti liječnički nalaz koji je Norman podnio nadzorniku. Izvješće, tiskano samo nekoliko sati nakon što je Norman stigao u bolnicu, navodi "Predoziranje lijekovima" u odjeljku pod nazivom "Glavna pritužba". Prema izvješću, test urina bio je negativan na opioide, ali stručnjaci kažu da takvi testovi nisu uvijek savršen pokazatelj.

Norman je rekao njezinu bratu da su joj kolege pomogli da zadrži posao, rekao je. Nije objasnila kako.

"Znali su da je vrijedna", rekao je Mark Norman, "i pokrivali su je."

UT Southwestern je rekao da bi bilo neprimjereno komentirati optužbe koje ne uključuju imena ili druge detalje.

Policija u Dallasu nikada nije vodila slučaj. Glasnogovornik odjela rekao je da je štrcaljka prazna pa nema ništa za nastaviti.

Norman je umro šest mjeseci kasnije nakon predoziranja u WC -u u Clementsu, u 32. godini. Otkrivena je kasno navečer, još uvijek noseći piling za svakodnevni posao. Normanova majka i dečko rekli su istražiteljima iz ureda sudskog vještaka da je bila kod liječnika zbog nestanka struje, ali da nije koristila zabranjene droge.

Liječnik je presudio da je njezina smrt nesreća, zbog predoziranja fentanilom.

UT Southwestern izvijestio je državne i savezne regulatore da je 15. prosinca, na dan kada je Norman umro, zaposlenik ukrao fentanil iz bolnice.

Sveučilišni dužnosnici odbili su identificirati zaposlenika Vijesti.

Prema državnim evidencijama, UT Southwestern rekao je Texas State Board of Pharmacy da je zaposlenica medicinska sestra. Sveučilište je odbilo komentirati nalaze ljekarničke uprave.

Nakon što je Norman umro, sveučilišna policija je dobila špricu iz njezine epizode u lipnju, pokazuju policijski zapisi u Dallasu. Sveučilišni dužnosnici rekli su da su testovi štrcaljke negativni na kontrolirane tvari.

Ostali detalji policijske istrage UT Southwestern nisu jasni. Kao odgovor na zahtjev od Vijesti, sveučilište je zadržalo 22 stranice policijskog izvješća od 25 stranica pozivajući se na državni zakon.

Još jedna smrt

Fentanyl je tvrdio da je Iyisha Keller otprilike godinu i pol kasnije.

Keller, 36, radila je kao medicinska sestra na UT Southwestern od 2011. Obitelj ju je opisala kao crvenokosu petardu koja je voljela svoje pacijente.

U travnju ove godine, Keller je napravila pauzu tijekom svoje smjene i držala se podalje od očekivanog, prema evidenciji policije i liječnika UT Southwestern. Kolege su je nazvale mobitelom i čule kako zvoni u kupaonici za osoblje. Radnici na održavanju morali su otključati vrata. Našli su Kellera na podu, špricu s oznakom "Fentanil", u ruci. Medicinska sestra pokušala ju je oživjeti.

Na hitnoj pomoći u Clementsu proglašena je mrtvom.

Zapisi liječnika pokazuju da je jedna od nekoliko štrcaljki dostavljenih kao dokaz sadržavala fentanil i sedativ zvan midazolam. Sveučilišna policija također je dostavila IV vrećicu kao dokaz koji je liječnik otkrio da sadrži midazolam.

Liječnik je presudio da je Kellerova smrt slučajna, zaključivši da je umrla od toksičnih učinaka "terapijskih lijekova, uključujući fentanil" i alkohola. Također je imala midazolam u svom sustavu.

Njezina obitelj želi saznati više o tome što je sveučilišna policija otkrila.

"Rekli su da nikad nije izostala s posla", rekla je njezina majka Denise Keller. "Ako je tako dobra, zašto mi ne možeš reći što se dogodilo?"

Više od 200 bolničkih krađa

Vijesti od državne uprave ljekarni zatražio izvješća o krađama kontroliranih tvari koje su se dogodile u posljednje četiri godine.

Otkrili smo da je oko 125 bolnica prijavilo ukupno oko 220 krađa. Neki su bili od jedne pilule, drugi od tisuća doza. Država ima više od 700 registriranih bolničkih ljekarni.

Najčešće prijavljeni ukradeni lijekovi bili su moćni i potencijalno smrtonosni lijekovi protiv bolova poput morfija, fentanila i hidrokodona. Na popisu se nalaze i sedativi, kao i lijekovi protiv anksioznosti kao što su Xanax i Valium.

Izvješća su stigla iz bolnica diljem države, uključujući i područje Dallasa.

Prije tri godine medicinska sestra u Dječjem medicinskom centru Dallas ukrala je 123 štrcaljke morfija, bočice koje sadrže više od pola galona fentanila i razne druge lijekove.

Prošle godine dvije medicinske sestre u Medical City Plano stavile su u džep više od litre fentanila, kao i sedative i druge lijekove protiv bolova.

U srpnju je tehničar u psihijatrijskoj bolnici Sundance u Garlandu ukrao 16 litara kodeinskog sirupa protiv kašlja.

Ali Vijesti utvrdilo je da izvješća državnog ljekarničkog odbora ne odražavaju svaku krađu.

Na primjer, zdravstveni radnici su disciplinski kažnjeni ili su uhićeni zbog krađe lijekova iz bolnica, ali ljekarnički odbor nije imao evidenciju o krađama.

U jednom je slučaju državno Odbor za njegu oduzeo licencu medicinskoj sestri nakon što je 2016. otkrio da je otuđila morfij i druge lijekove iz bolnice Promise u sjeverozapadnom Dallasu. Kasnije se izjasnila krivom po optužbi za diverziju droga. Bolnica nije odgovorila na opetovane zahtjeve za komentar o tome prijavljuje li krađe državnom ljekarničkom odboru.

Druga medicinska sestra je prošle godine iz bolnice Parkland uzela desetke lijekova, uključujući metadon i hidrokodon, pokazuju podaci državnog odbora za njegu.

Parkland nije prijavio krađu saveznim regulatorima ili državnom ljekarničkom odboru. Glasnogovornica Parklanda rekla je da je to zato što u početku nije bilo jasno odakle je ukradena droga došla.

Medicinska sestra se kasnije izjasnila krivom za uzimanje lijekova iz Parklanda.

Ovaj tjedan, u svjetlu Vijesti'Bolnica je rekla da će preispitati svoja pitanja.

Također je teško reći koliko često zdravstveni radnici umiru od lijekova koje ukradu kada bolnice prijavljuju krađe, vlada ne pita za smrt ili ozljede.

Vijesti dobio je dojavu o smrti Clementsa. Budući da Clementsom upravlja javno sveučilište, putem državnog Zakona o javnom informiranju uspjeli smo prikupiti evidenciju o preusmjeravanju droga.

Da bismo potražili druge slučajeve, kontaktirali smo velike bolnice na tom području kako bismo pitali je li neko od osoblja umrlo u posljednjih pet godina nakon predoziranja lijekovima ukradenim s radnog mjesta.

Tri bolnička sustava - Parkland Health, Children’s Health i Texas Health Resources - rekla su da nijedan nije. Tri druga - Baylor Scott & White, Medical City i Methodist Health System - odbili su komentirati navodeći privatnost zaposlenika. Također smo provjerili zapisnike liječnika okruga Dallas i nismo pronašli nijedno drugo fatalno predoziranje u bolnicama.

Sprječavanje krađa

Kad bolnice prijavljuju krađu droga, ne moraju ponuditi mnogo detalja. Obrazac za prijavu američke Uprave za borbu protiv droga, koji bolnice u Teksasu obično podnose državnom ljekarničkom odboru, ne pita kako je došlo do krađe. Pita se koji su koraci poduzeti kako bi se spriječile buduće krađe, ali mnoge bolnice ne odgovaraju.

Dužnosnici UT Southwestern rekli su za Vijesti da Clements ima mnoge zaštitne mjere za sprječavanje preusmjeravanja droga: pristup otiscima prstiju, edukacija o znakovima zlostavljanja i davanje svjedoka da nadzire odlaganje viška lijekova.

Direktor Clementsove ljekarne, Brian Cohen, rekao je da je jedan od najvažnijih alata koje bolnica koristi softver za praćenje neobičnih obrazaca rukovanja lijekovima od strane osoblja.

"Moramo se moći pobrinuti za te situacije prije nego što to ugrozi sigurnost pacijenata", rekao je.

Od kada je bolnica otvorena, rekao je Cohen, Clements je zaposlio više članova osoblja za nadzor lijekova. Bolnica je također počela koristiti nove spremnike koji uništavaju zaostale lijekove.

No, dužnosnici nisu htjeli detaljno objasniti koje su promjene unijeli kao odgovor na smrt Normana i Kellera.

Medicinski centar rekao je da su mjere zaštite od diverzije droga "uvijek proces u tijeku".

Federalni regulatori mogu nametnuti stroge kazne bolnicama s lošim zaštitnim mjerama za kontrolirane tvari.

U Georgiji i Massachusettsu bolnice su nedavno platile milijune dolara nakon što su istražitelji DEA -e otkrili da su tisuće tableta ukradene.

U kolovozu je zdravstveni sustav Sveučilišta Michigan pristao platiti kaznu od 4,3 milijuna dolara za rješavanje slučaja u kojem je DEA otkrila više propusta u vođenju evidencije. Istraga je započela nakon što su se liječnik i medicinska sestra istog dana predozirali u sveučilišnoj bolnici.

Oboje su pronađeni u zaključanim bolničkim kupaonicama, svaki sa štrcaljkom, nakon predoziranja fentanilom i drugim lijekovima namijenjenim pacijentima, prema vijestima. Liječnik je oporavio medicinsku sestru koja je umrla.


Pekara Evanston tuži bivšeg kuhara zbog nedostatka recepata

Fraiche Bakery Café u Evanstonu-dom onoga što je jedan časopis nazvao "ovisnošću", kolač nalik krafnama poznat kao Bomba s cimetom-lišen je ključnih recepata otkad je kuhar dao ostavku prije dva tjedna, a zatim se vratio u kafić nekoliko puta nekoliko dana kasnije i napravili par pahuljica za prstenje koje su sadržavale tajne zaštitne bombe restorana, hvaljene kolače i drugu pecivu, prema tužbi.

Vlasnica Fraichea Susan Davis Friedman podnijela je tužbu protiv kuhara danas, pet dana nakon što je otkrila da je jedna od knjiga recepata nestala, a dan nakon što je kuhar obavijestio upravitelja koji će Fraiche morati tužiti da ih vrati.

"Ako je htjela recepte, zašto nije napravila kopije?" chef je izjavio u izjavi pod prisegom upravitelja Fraichea.

Kuhara nije bilo moguće dobiti za komentar.

Friedman tvrdi da su recepti vlasništvo restorana, a stvari su kuhar i njezini pomoćnici razvili tijekom tri i pol godine otkako je Fraiche otvorena na mjestu bivše Kimove pekarnice. Nakon godina dotjerivanja i prilagođavanja, bomba s cimetom ocijenila je 87. mjesto na zabavnom časopisu TimeOut Chicago na popisu 100 najboljih stvari koje smo jeli 2011., a Fraicheove kolačiće lokalni je časopis za stil života proglasio najboljima na Sjevernoj obali.

"Zašto biste ovo (doduše pitomo) pecivo nazvali" bombom "? Budući da ovaj vlažni kolač s cimetom zasipan neočekivano stvara ovisnost. I to je opasno", stoji u recenziji TimeOuta.

U tužbi se navodi da su recepti "razvijeni, sastavljeni testirani i usavršeni tijekom 3 ½ godine. Taj se rad ne može lako reproducirati. Šteta po Fraicheovoj dobroj volji zbog nemogućnosti da ponudi te stavke bila bi nepopravljiva jer se ne može mjeriti u novcu" odštete. "

Benson Friedman, suprug i odvjetnik Susan Davis Friedman, rekao je u utorak da su recepti očito vlasništvo Fraichea, jednako kao što bi posao obavljen dok je kemičar ili inženjer na satu pripadao njegovom poslodavcu. I, ističe, kuhar je potpisao ugovor o tajnosti podataka.

Friedman je rekao da Fraiche, 815 Noyes St. rotira svoj jelovnik peciva, no rekao je kako se nada da će vratiti recepte nakon ročišta na sudu kasnije ovog tjedna.

"Tamo će uvijek biti dobrih stvari. Uvijek postoje nove i inovativne stvari", rekao je Friedman. "Recepti su važni dijelovi imovine koje restorani održavaju."


'Kuhinjske noćne more' restaurira najnoviju tragediju stvarnosti

28. rujna 2010. — - Još jedan sudionik reality TV -a doživio je tragičan kraj.

Joe Cerniglia, kuhar u restoranu Campania u New Jerseyju, skočio je u petak s mosta George Washington između New Yorka i New Jerseyja, prema njujorškim vlastima. Vlasti su novinarima rekle da se istražuje uzrok smrti Cerniglije, ali se sumnja da nema "kriminala".

Godine 2007. Cerniglia je predstavljena u showu za rehabilitaciju slavnog kuhara Gordona Ramsayja "Kuhinjske more".

U "Kuhinjskim noćnim morama", često otvoreni Ramsay razotkrio je Cernigliju, 39-godišnjeg supruga i oca troje djece. Cerniglia je imao više od 80.000 dolara duga u vrijeme kada se njegov restoran pojavio u emisiji.

"Tvoj će posao uskoro prokleti plivati ​​niz Hudson", rekao je Ramsay. "Zašto ste postali kuhar ako nemate pojma kako voditi posao?"

U okrutnoj ironiji, Cerniglijevo tijelo pronađeno je kako pluta u rijeci Hudson.

Nije prvi put da je netko iz Ramsay showa počinio samoubojstvo: 2007. Rachel Brown se smrtonosno ustrijelila godinu dana nakon što se natjecala u Ramsayjevoj "Hell's Kitchen", seriji koja postavlja bitke između nadolazećih kuhara.

Valja napomenuti da su i s Brownom i s Cerniglijom njihova samoubojstva uslijedila dugo nakon što su se pojavili u odgovarajućim emisijama Ramsayja.

Za neke sudionike reality TV -a drama dolazi tek nakon što se njihova serija emitira.

"Vaš je život otvorena knjiga za ljude i zbog toga se osjećate vrlo ranjivo", rekla je Nadine Kaslow, glavna psihologinja na Medicinskom fakultetu Sveučilišta Emory u Atlanti za ABCNews.com. "Kad se ljudi osjećaju jako javno posramljeni i poniženi, to je faktor rizika za samoubojstvo. Dio onoga što ne znate je koliko će ljudi biti osjetljivi na sram i poniženje koje bi mogli doživjeti."

Ljudi s mentalnim bolestima očito su ranjivi. U slučaju bipolarnih natjecatelja, razlog zašto ih privlače ove emisije može potjecati od njihove mentalne bolesti i njihove želje da nastupe ili budu slavni, rekao je Kaslow. Mentalno stabilni natjecatelji također su ranjivi, posebno kada se pritisak konkurencije i oči javnosti pokažu prevelik.

"Nemaju kontrolu ili gube kontrolu. Gube granice koje svi držimo", rekao je Kaslow. "Ni ljudi - mediji i javnost - nisu uvijek tako ljubazni prema njima. Također možete postati zvijezda i doista slavni, postati nitko i nitko."

Zato pregled sudionika prije nego što se pridruže showu možda neće biti dovoljan.

"Morate biti osjetljivi na njih nakon što oni izađu ili izgube. Sada su gubitnici sljedećeg dana na jutarnjoj televiziji. Većina nas kad smo imali javni neuspjeh nismo kad želimo biti na jutarnjoj televiziji, " rekla je.

"Očigledno je da ljudi privlače ove reality emisije", dodao je Kaslow. "Dakle, nećemo ih imati. Ali ljudi moraju bolje raditi upravljajući i procjenjujući ljude na njima."

U nastavku ABCNews.com razmatra što se događa kada se stvarnost u stvarnom životu susretne s realnošću televizijske emisije i razornim posljedicama za neke sudionike emisije i njihove obitelji:

Paula Goodspeed

30-godišnja jednokratna natjecateljica "American Idola" imala je očitu zaljubljenost u sutkinju Paulu Abdul. Goodspeed su je tijekom audicije ismijavali i glatko odbacili, ali nikada nije odustala od svoje opsjednutosti bivšom navijačicom i pop zvijezdom Los Angeles Lakersa.

12. studenog 2008. Goodspeed je parkirala svoj automobil nekoliko vrata dolje od Abdulove kuće u Los Angelesu i, prema podacima losanđeleske policije, umrla je od očiglednog predoziranja.

U to je vrijeme Reuters izvijestio da su u automobilu pronađene tablete na recept, zajedno s CD -ovima i slikama Abdula.

Kasnije, Abdul je za ABC-ov "The View" rekao da ju je Goodspeed proganjao 17 godina, a kasnije je rekao suvoditeljici Barbari Walters u Waltersovoj radijskoj emisiji da se molila Cowellu i producentima da ne dopuste audiciju Goodspeeda.

Učinili su to, rekla je, zbog "zabavne vrijednosti. Zabavno im je što me izazivaju stresom. To je nešto što bi učinilo dobru televiziju."

U jednom ranijem intervjuu za "Dobro jutro Ameriko", rekla je, "ono što ljudi ne shvaćaju, ovo je bila ozbiljna, ozbiljna situacija."

Cowell je branio sebe i producente emisije u intervjuu za magazin Us Weekly u prosincu 2008. "Ono što se dogodilo bilo je užasno", rekao je. "Žao mi je u svemu ovome što nismo znali koliko je ta osoba problematična. Da sam se mogao vratiti u prošlost i znati kroz što prolazi, volio bih da smo mogli provesti vrijeme pokušavajući joj pomoći , ali mi doista nismo znali. "

Cheryl Kosewicz

Bivša zamjenica okružnog tužitelja iz Renoa ubila se nakon što je izbačena iz "piratskog majstora", CBS-ovog reality showa koji je pratio 16 budućih pirata u njihovoj potrazi za milijunom dolara.

Četvrta osoba koja je napustila emisiju, 35 -godišnja Kosewicz, pronađena je mrtva u svojoj kući 27. siječnja 2007. godine, od očitog samoubojstva. Prije nego što je počinila samoubojstvo, navodno je na stranici MySpace svoje kolegice natjecateljice napisala da je "izgubila snažnu Cheryl, a ja samo izgubljeno lebdim".

Okrivila je emisiju i zato što je došla između nje i njezinog dečka Ryana O'Neila, koji je sam počinio samoubojstvo dva mjeseca ranije. "Ova frik'n emisija ... bila je takva svađa između Ryana i mene", navodno je tada napisala. "Činilo se da ju je stidio stid", rekao je Kaslow. "Bilješka je bila toliko javna i djelomično je krivila TV emisiju."

Kaslow je dodala kako često postoji nekoliko čimbenika koji dovode do samoubojstva, a u Kosewiczovom slučaju gubitak dečka mogao je biti dodatni stres, dok je ispadanje iz emisije moglo biti kap koja je prelila čašu. U posljednjoj epizodi emisije bila je poruka posvete Kosewiczu.

DZS nije odgovorio na opetovane zahtjeve za komentar.

Danny Bonaduce

Zvijezda "Partridge Family" dopustila je kamerama VH-1 da prate svaki detalj njegova života za "Breaking Bonaduce", uključujući čak i prividan pokušaj samoubojstva.

Prema web stranici za zabavu TheWrap.com, bivši dječji glumac pokušao se ubiti progutajući votku i Vicodin nakon što je njegova supruga Gretchen zatražila razvod braka tijekom snimanja reality showa - i to neposredno prije premijere 12. rujna 2005. godine. U drugoj epizodi prerezao je zglobove prije nego što se prijavio na odvikavanje.

Njegovo ponašanje samo je učinilo emisiju popularnijom. Vraćen je na još jednu sezonu i pokupljen za međunarodnu distribuciju. Na kraju se njegov brak s Gretchen raspao. No, Bonaduce je nastavio tražiti središte pozornosti kao radijska ličnost.

VH-1 nije odgovorio na opetovane zahtjeve za komentar.

Najai Turpin

23-godišnji boksač iz Philadelphije navodno je bio prvi sudionik reality showa koji si je oduzeo život.

Natjecatelj u prvoj sezoni NBC -jevog filma "The Contender", Turpin se snimio u parkiranom automobilu samo nekoliko tjedana prije premijere serije.

Prema policijskom izvješću, Turpin je sjedio sa svojom djevojkom, s kojom je imao spor oko starateljstva nad njihovom dvogodišnjom kćerkom. Prema medijskim izvještajima, također je rečeno da je, nakon što je ranije izbačen iz emisije, postao frustriran što mu nije bilo dopušteno da se natječe u bilo kojem profesionalnom boksačkom meču dok se nije emitirala završnica serije, što bi mu otežalo uzdržavati svoju obitelj.

Njegov bivši trener Percy "Buster" Custus također je rekao za ABCNews.com da Turpin nikada nije bio psihički sposoban biti u emisiji. "Nije ni trebao biti u emisiji", rekao je Custus, bivši boksač Zlatnih rukavica. Prema Custusu, Turpin nije samo prošao psihološku procjenu emisije, već je prethodno pokušao samoubojstvo. Bez obzira na to, rekao je Custus, mladi sportaš bio je gurnut da se pridruži showu.

Mreža je osnovala fond za Turpinovu obitelj, ali Custus vjeruje da je NBC mogao učiniti više. "Nisam zadovoljan kako su se ponašali prema Najaiju", rekao je. "Ni ja nisam zadovoljan fondom."

NBC nije odgovorio na zahtjeve za komentar.

James Scott Terrill

Samohrani otac Georgetown, Ky., Pojavio se u ABC reality showu "Supernanny" u siječnju 2008, tražeći pomoć u upravljanju sa svoja dva sina, Laneom (11) i Tate (5), nakon što ih je majka napustila.

No, nakon što su kamere otišle, Terrill se navodno još uvijek borio sa solo roditeljstvom. 4. srpnja 2008. pozvao je policiju iz Georgetowna s groblja na kojem je pokopan njegov otac i zaprijetio da će se ustrijeliti u prsa. Policija je ostala s njim na telefonu gotovo sat vremena, ali na kraju je 37-godišnji Terrill oduzeo sebi život.

ABC Entertainment odbio je komentirati. ABC Entertainment dio je The Walt Disney Company, matične tvrtke ABC News.

Nathan Clutter

U drugom dijelu "Paradise Hotela", reality showa Fox u kojem se sudionici natječu tko će najduže odsjesti u luksuznom hotelu, pojavio se 25-godišnji Clutter, iako je počinio samoubojstvo neposredno nakon što je produkcija završena predstava.

Prvotno je emisija pokrivala njegovu smrt 12. listopada 2007. rekavši kako je Clutter, bivši zaposlenik pozivnog centra, pao tijekom nesreće na penjanju. No, nakon istrage šerifovog ureda izvan Amarilla u Teksasu, gdje je umro, utvrđeno je da je Clutter zapravo skočio s vrha mobilne kule.

"Nije bilo nalaza o prljavoj igri [i] svi dokazi i nalazi pokazuju da je [Clutterova smrt] posljedica njegove vlastite smrti", glasilo je šerifovo izvješće dobiveno od RealityTVWorld.com.

Citiran je i jedan član Ureda šerifa koji je rekao da se Clutter borio s depresijom i bipolarnim poremećajem, a da mu je obitelj nedavno poslala novac kako bi se mogao vratiti kući i liječiti.

Njegova obitelj i producenti složili su se zadržati Clutterove scene, prema Broadcasting & Cable.com.

Fox nije odgovorio na zahtjeve za komentar.

Stvarnosti u drugim zemljama doživjele su slične tragedije, dokazujući da to nije samo američki fenomen. Zapravo, samoubojstvo Šveđanina 1997. godine koji je prethodio seriji "Survivor", emisiji pod nazivom "Expedition: Robinson", koju je producirao Mark Burnett, dovela je Burnetta i druge producente do provjere potencijalnih natjecatelja kroz psihološko testiranje prije bili su lijevani. Ipak, od tada se dogodilo nekoliko incidenata.

U Engleskoj su se dva natjecatelja ubila, a drugi je navodno pokušao nakon sudjelovanja u reality showovima, prema TheWrap.com. Simon Foster was found dead on April 15, 2008 presumably from an excess of methadone and alcohol, after he did English version of the show "Wife Swap" with his then wife Jane. Carina Stephenson, a 17-year-old English girl, took her life in May 2005, two weeks before her role on the UK reality show "The Colony" was to air.

Jo O'Meara, who appeared on England's "Celebrity Big Brother," downed pills and whiskey after she was accused of being a racist and a bully on the show and received death threats when it was over. She survived after a friend found her, but O'Meara was still furious with producers for "abandoning" her, she told Britain's News of the World in March 2007.

"I actually did hardly anything on that show, but it made me look like some monster," she said. "Then when the show finished playing with me like a puppet it abandoned me and left me to sort out my problems, knowing just how bad I'd become."


The Disgusting Reason One Customer Just Brought a Lawsuit Against McDonald's

Jao. Fast food giants like McDonald's have found themselves among the establishments least hit by the pandemic… but a new report suggests that even in a time when safe food handling is under the microscope more than ever, it sounds like gross back-of-house behavior is still happening in some restaurant kitchens. Here's the truly sickening reason one New Jersey family has filed a serious lawsuit against their local McDonald's.

NJ.com reported Thursday that a woman has filed a lawsuit against a McDonald's restaurant in Millville, New Jersey. She alleges that on January 13, she and her young daughter ordered at McDonald's and took their meal home to discover—well, we'll let our source explain what happened next:

"After eating some fries from the McDonald's bag, the (child) reached in the bag and took out the burger (and) noticed a brown substance all over the wrapper," the suit states.

At the same [time], [the mother] "noticed and smelled a horrible stench from the substance on the burger," the suit states.

"To their disbelief and shock, plaintiffs realized what they had just ingested was human feces, which was touching their French fries in the same bag and that was all over (the child's) hand and the wrapper of the burger," the lawsuit claims.

The report states that the woman's daughter immediately reacted by vomiting. When the mom phoned that McDonald's location, the woman got no answer. At that point, she contacted the local police, who apparently found sufficient reason for the responding officer to pursue the matter.

The report states that he went to the McDonald's and spoke to two managers, and two days later county health department officials arrived for an inspection. According to the report, the McDonald's was cited for multiple hand-washing violations.

The woman's suit states that she and her daughter sought medical treatment after the event. As a result of the incident, she is reportedly seeking damages against the franchise location owner and 10 employees for "physical and psychological damages to include emotional distress, loss of appetite, heightened anxiety and stomach pain."

The owner of that McDonald's location denies any wrongdoing and has been quoted as having commented: "Serving safe, high-quality food is always our top priority … We've taken appropriate steps to investigate this and have been unable to substantiate this claim."

Fast food may be an easy go-to when life gets busy… but this kinda makes you want to eat at home this week, doesn't it? Catch Genius Meal-Prep Tricks for Easier Weekdays.


Gordon Ramsay, reality TV and the suicide of chef Joseph Cerniglia

F or the viewers it was just another example of the host's bullish bluster – the sort of bad-mouthed, bare-knuckled assault that draws millions of viewers to Gordon Ramsay, turning him into one of the most famous people in America.

"Your business is about to fucking swim down the Hudson," the Scot told Joseph Cerniglia, chef and owner of the floundering New Jersey restaurant Campania.

Saddled with debts of $80,000 from purchasing the restaurant, Cerniglia found himself in the hands of Ramsay and the team at Fox TV, taping an episode of the first US series of Kitchen Nightmares, in which the by turns ebullient and demonic chef follows the tried-and-trusted reality TV formula of visiting a struggling business and shouting at people.

Ramsay is no John Harvey-Jones, the BBC's gentlemanly Troubleshooter. Ramsay tells it like it is, and then some, glorifying in the travails of others, gleefully exposing their shortcomings and – most recently – vomiting their work into the nearest bin.

But in the case of Cerniglia, the reality of his situation caught up with him earlier this week. Three years after he first appeared on Ramsay's show, the 39-year-old Cerniglia was found dead, his body pulled from the Hudson river after a witness reported seeing a man jump from the George Washington Bridge.

It is not the first time that a contestant on one of Ramsay's shows has taken their own life: three years ago, Rachel Brown, a chef appearing on another of Ramsay's shows, Hell's Kitchen, shot herself in her Dallas home. Neither is it the first time that people who have appeared on TV have subsequently encountered problems in their lives. Of course, no one is suggesting that these deaths are directly related to their appearances on reality TV. But it has sparked a fresh debate about the genre.

Dr Bruce Weinstein, AKA the Ethics Guy and a columnist for Bloomberg Business Week who has looked at the mores of reality TV, believes there has been "a ratcheting up of the level of brutality . . . it's nastier, it's coarser, it's harsher".

"Going back to the first series of Survivor, there was conniving, but it's reached a level we've not seen before."

Weinstein suggest that the conflicts and drama that are the making of reality TV are quite detached from reality. "These programmes are as produced as drama," he says. "What we are watching is not reality unfolding, but reality as it is shaped by a group of people. Aristotle told us that the essence of all drama is conflict. What the producers of these shows are trying to do is to maximise the conflict."

And who better than the vulnerable to give the public – the economic drivers of reality TV – its kicks? And if audiences crave a rollercoaster ride of emotion, sweat, heat, tantrums and topsy-turvy balance sheets, look no further than the restaurant business.

The hierarchical structure of the restaurant kitchen and the tendency for chefs to move into management, an area in which many have little expertise, is manna to reality producers. According to Nation's Restaurant News, 5,500 restaurants closed in 2009 in the US, out of a total of 578,353.

"Dentists and chefs," says David LeFevre, who is leaving behind the success he has enjoyed as chef at the Water Grill in Los Angeles to start his own restaurant. "They are the two most-hated, highest-risk occupations."

The tension inside the kitchen, says LeFevre, is easily explained. "It's extremely hot, it's an extremely small space and there's a lot of people," he says. "You have a deadline every two minutes. You're kind of doing air traffic control with tickets. You're trying to organise all these planes and tickets to land at the right time, but these planes have to be hot and tasty and seasoned. That for me is one of the monkeys on your back."

All of which, he says, leads to the sort of tensions that have prompted some, such as Ramsay, to rise to the top of the ratings – and others to plummet to the bottom.

LeFevre points to the example of one of the greats of French cuisine, Bernard Loiseau, under whom he served at the Michelin-starred La Côte d'Or before Loiseau killed himself in 2003. "Here you are in a pretty stressful environment already, that's hot and loud, and you add in the stress of running a business. It's a lose-lose situation."

Cerniglia's sister has insisted that taking part in the show did not adversely affect her brother. "He really liked Gordon and the show was great," she said. "The show was also great for business. It really helped tremendously. There are no hard feelings at all from our family to Gordon Ramsay, who is a wonderful man. His behaviour on the show was played up for the cameras."

Ramsay himself issued a dignified statement, noting, "I was fortunate to spend time with Joe during the first season of Kitchen Nightmares. Joe was a brilliant chef, and our thoughts go out to his family, friends and staff."

But some critics have used the occasion of Cerniglia's death this week to take issue with Ramsay's unique selling point: his manner. "Smart chef[s] lead kitchen by sharing, teaching, inspiring with respect," New York-based French chef Eric Ripert wrote on Twitter this week. "Not insulting, abusing, humiliating their team . . . Nothing personal against Gordon Ramsay but he is a poor inspiration for professional chefs in his shows." Ripert, a judge on reality TV show Top Chef, quickly clarified that he was not blaming Ramsay for the deaths.

Mary Sue Milliken, chef and co-owner of the Border Grill in Los Angeles, argues that Ramsay-style shrieking may have something to do with gender. "Maybe because we're women," she says of herself and co-owner Susan Feniger, "we don't have the kind of egos that lead to this. You manage your personality to fit your passion, don't you? And we made a very conscious effort to find other ways to manage our kitchens."

She also suspects the Ramsay stereotype of the demon chef is something peculiar to TV. "In 29 years as a chef I've run into guys who were maybe 30-40% of the persona that Gordon Ramsay exudes," she says. "There were a few chefs who were like that, but I don't think it's as prevalent any more. But the Gordon Ramsay persona makes popular TV. I've met him and he was delightful to me."

LeFevre, however, recognises the difficulties of staying calm in the heat of the kitchen.

"I have my challenges with my temper," LeFevre says. "It's something I work with on a daily basis. If it's super-stressful, you need to be very firm and clear and curt about what needs to be done. Other times you can be more calm. I have to be aware of where I am in order to be in the right mood to put my food out."

And though Ramsay may be delightful to his peers, that isn't going to win viewers. Trailers for the current series of Ramsay's Hell's Kitchen, also on Fox, makes it sound like Gladiator: "Fighting reaches epic proportions," it proclaims.

But several former contestants have elided the standard $5m confidentiality agreement that all must sign before taking part in the programme, to suggest that much of the fighting and brawling and crying is exaggerated.

But as media analyst and former TV producer Richard Crew notes, few people recognise themselves on reality television. "You have the reality of who this public persona of you is. Unless you are incredibly narcissistic, it must be quite a shock to see that person: is that really me, or did they manipulate that person to be me?"

As with the ingredients of a gourmet meal, it takes a phalanx of people to achieve the right blend of personalities for a reality TV show. Would-be participants are subjected to psychological evaluations ahead of recording. Once contestant recalled being asked how he felt at his grandmother's funeral and what his attitude was towards promiscuous sex.

"Part of the reason that psychologists are involved is to screen out people that might not be suited for that sort of experience," says Crew. "But the other reason is to identify characters that will be attractive and entertaining to viewers. That show was certainly a part of Cerniglia's personality."

One psychologist who was a consultant on Survivor has compared the contained reality of reality TV with the Stanford prison experiment of 1971, which saw students taking their roles as prisoner and guard beyond the norms of acceptable behaviour.

"The primary business in LA is reality TV," Crew points out, "and the challenge is that, because it isn't fiction, you can't just make it up, so you have to manipulate it and make it as entertaining as you can."


Eateries shuttered, but chef's plate remains full with lawsuit

1 of 2 Bistro Vatel on East Olmos Drive still delights customers with its take on French cuisine, but earlier this year it came under new ownership. Damien Watel stayed on as chef. Beth Spain / San Antonio Express-News Show More Show Less

2 of 2 Damien Watel was unaware that he'd been sued. Show More Show Less

A descendant of a French chef who committed suicide over a banquet gone awry, Damien Watel has made a name for himself in San Antonio's culinary circles &mdash in frenetic fashion.

He opened Bistro Vatel in Olmos Park in 1999 and later turned his attention to launching a string of other restaurants and bars around town, and a dream project in Stone Oak &mdash a retail center best known for a controversial fork sculpture standing at the site.

The artwork remains, but the center is mostly vacant two of his restaurants there shut their doors. Indeed, Watel either has closed or sold most of the locations he opened.

Bistro Vatel at 218 E. Olmos Drive still delights customers with its take on French cuisine, but earlier this year it came under new ownership. Watel stayed on as chef.

Now he's being sued in state court by a lender over a nearly $600,000 debt.

TransPecos Banks filed the complaint against the French-born chef Oct. 4, claiming he owed a combined $594,600.91 on two loans issued in August 2011.

&ldquoA lot of years of hard work to get there,&rdquo Watel said. &ldquoAnd now this. Is (this) what they call the American Dream?&rdquo

Under terms of the loans, he agreed to pay the Pecos-based bank nearly $4,500 a month until early 2019, when the payments would drop to about $2,600, according to court records. The bank's lawsuit does not detail when Watel fell into delinquency.

Reached by phone Tuesday morning, Watel said he was unaware he'd been sued, but explained the debt was an old obligation of Bistro Vatel LLC. He said that company shut down last year following &ldquothe demise&rdquo of parent company Stone Oak Ventures Ltd., in which Bistro Vatel LLC was a partner.

Stone Oak Ventures filed a certificate of termination with the Texas secretary of state in March 2010.

Bistro Vatel recently changed its name to Chez Vatel & Bistro, and locally based Cuisine Machine LLC took control of the restaurant in January.

&ldquoAs you can assume, I must limit my comments on this pending litigation,&rdquo Watel wrote in an email.

&ldquoThe disputed amounts have no connection with my current employer&rdquo and operator of Chez Vatel, he added.

Bistro Vatel and its traditional French dishes quickly became popular in the Olmos Park area after Watel opened the restaurant in late 1990s. Today, it's one of the last remaining establishments in the Watel family's local culinary empire, which peaked right as the national recession began to take its toll.

Watel opened Bistro Vatel after his partners bought him out of a cafe on Broadway in 1997. About six years later, he purchased a coin laundry near his restaurant to house Ciao Lavanderia, and in 2006 he selected a site in Southtown for the popular Belgian bistro La Frite.

But Watel's presence in the city truly expanded starting in 2008, when he opened two neighboring restaurants at Ciel Plaza, a 14,000-square-foot retail center in Stone Oak. In the same year, the Ciao Vino and Soto Vino wine bars opened next to Watel's existing restaurants.

In April 2009, his family launched a bakery across from Bistro Vatel and within the year signed a three-year lease with the San Antonio Museum of Art for Cafe des Artistes. However, the lease wasn't renewed.

With the exception of the flagship location &mdash and La Frite, which Watel sold in 2009 &mdash each of his ventures eventually shuttered.

&ldquoCommercial real estate along Stone Oak, just like housing, got hit during the period in question,&rdquo said Scott Roberts, an associate professor of marketing at the University of the Incarnate Word.

&ldquoIn the lull (or) downturn, some properties were at fire sale prices or rents by desperate owners,&rdquo he said. &ldquoThat may have been tempting enough for Watel to expand.&rdquo

Watel declined to go into detail, but he said the Stone Oak project started three years before the recession worsened in 2008.

An Austin-based private equity firm purchased Ciel Plaza from TransPecos Banks, which had foreclosed on the property earlier.

&ldquoIt just so (happened) to be completed when (the recession) hit. Lucky me,&rdquo Watel said. &ldquoIt is painful to see your dream project end up this way.&rdquo

Express-News archives and News Researcher Julie Domel contributed to this report.


Restaurants Were His Life

The tales of Colin Devlin’s generosity sound like fables. Once, though he was nearly broke and working as a bartender, he pulled $1,000 out of his sock and gave it to a friend starting a restaurant.

When Mr. Devlin opened DuMont, the first of his three pioneering restaurants in Williamsburg, Brooklyn, he offered free meals to loyal customers and new friends, whom he made instantly. He adopted the ugliest, most unwanted dogs his favorite was Remy, a mutt with a backward paw.

“Everyone fell in love with Colin,” said Dr. Michael Conroy, 41, his best friend growing up in Philadelphia. “We had him as some demigod.”

Before dawn on July 25, Mr. Devlin was found 38 miles south of his Pennsylvania farmhouse in the cemetery of Chestnut Hill Church, outside Allentown. A worker restoring the steeple spotted a white BMW sport utility vehicle on the private road inside the cemetery, and then, upon inspection, a body, face down, by the far woods. Mr. Devlin had shot himself in the head, the police said he was holding a .38 revolver that belonged to him.

Mr. Devlin was 42. He left a short note in his car, telling his wife, Kristina Devlin, 41, to go on and live her life. He said he would watch over their daughter, Ludivine, 4, and their son, Cole, 3, and apologized to his family, a relative said.

Slika

A month earlier, he had closed his Michelin-starred restaurant, Dressler, because it had been steadily losing money. His landlord was also a partner and, according to e-mails between the two men, would not renew the restaurant’s lease, in part because of unpaid bills. Mr. Devlin’s other restaurants, DuMont and DuMont Burger, seemed successful and crowded, but the Devlin Metro Group, which managed them, was struggling financially.

He and his wife owed more than $19,000 in back taxes to New York State, according to the New York State Tax Department, and there was a lawsuit by a food purveyor pending. They were carrying two mortgages, on the house in Pennsylvania, from which he frequently commuted to the city, and the house he bought for his mother next door. When he went missing from the couple’s rented New York apartment on July 24, Ms. Devlin told the police that he had been depressed, and was upset over failing to get a business loan that day.

“He was obviously trying to make his businesses right,” said Joseph Foglia, 48, Mr. Devlin’s business partner, restaurant designer and one of his closest friends. Mr. Foglia was one of a few friends who received an e-mail message from Mr. Devlin the day before he died. He declined to share its contents, but a law enforcement official said that Mr. Devlin asked the friends to make sure his wife and children were taken care of.

“I never saw anyone work harder on anything else,” Mr. Foglia said. “I believe he could have fixed it. He would say, ‘I want to be happy. I want things to be simpler. I want people around me to be happy.’ ”

Mr. Devlin’s death shocked the restaurant world and the creative community that had rallied around him to build Williamsburg into a bustling neighborhood and, unintentionally, a global brand. Twelve years ago, he opened DuMont, a homey spot in a Wild West of culinary experimentation, without much attention from Manhattan. Since then, the casual-chic food and bar scene in Williamsburg has become a magnet for young professionals and guidebook-toting tourists seeking the widely exported source of Brooklyn cool. Mr. Devlin, personable and passionate, appeared to be its ambassador. Instead, he became its first high-profile figure to fall.

Suicide is a deeply personal act, ultimately ineffable. Those who study suicide say the reasons people choose to kill themselves are multilayered, and they caution others not to construct easy explanations — because there are none. Yet some things about Mr. Devlin seem clear.

Interviews with dozens of friends, relatives and former employees offered a picture of a big-hearted man who was frenetic in his enthusiasm, if not in his business dealings. Most spoke about his endearing qualities, but declined to be quoted about the specific pressures in his business and personal life.

Since childhood, he felt tremendously burdened to support people around him, financially and emotionally. He was insecure despite his success and his charm. “Nobody was less impressed with Colin than Colin,” Dr. Conroy, now a dermatologist in Columbus, Ohio, said to a standing-room-only crowd of about 400 at Mr. Devlin’s funeral Mass on July 31 in Stroudsburg, Pa. “That’s what we loved about him. That’s why we’re all here.”

By 2007, a year after it opened, Dressler had earned a Michelin star, only the third Brooklyn restaurant to do so. By 2009, Mr. Devlin was in his second marriage, with one child and another on the way. He was always thinking about his next project maybe one day he would open hotels, he said. But Mr. Devlin acknowledged the challenges.

“Sometimes it seems like we’re making money but then it goes right back into the company,” he said in an interview with the magazine StarChefs, which gave him New York’s Rising Stars Restaurateur Award in 2009. “For me it’s a lifestyle, so I’ve never wanted or needed to take a lot from it.”

But then, Mr. Devlin concluded: “Beyond the bottom line, if the restaurants weren’t here in the morning I wouldn’t have a life. It sounds hokey but I believe it.”


The Island Is Idyllic. As a Workplace, It’s Toxic.

Globe-trotting diners flock to the Willows Inn’s serene Northwest setting. But former employees say faked ingredients, sexual harassment and an abusive kitchen are the real story.

Blaine Wetzel, chef and co-owner of the Willows Inn on Lummi Island, denied allegations that his kitchen fails to live up to the ideals he broadcasts to the world. “If we are missing that mark in any way, we must improve,” he said. Credit. Amber Fouts

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The chef Blaine Wetzel first came to Lummi, a tiny island near the San Juan archipelago of Washington State, in 2010. At age 24, he was fresh off a two-year stint at the vaunted Copenhagen restaurant Noma. He could have found a job in any kitchen in the world.

Instead, he’d answered an ad on Craigslist, posted by a chicken farmer who owned a century-old inn on Lummi Island, 100 miles north of Seattle and reachable only by ferry. Sight unseen, Mr. Wetzel had fallen for the island’s ravishing isolation — fewer than 1,000 people live there full-time — and its unspoiled forests, farms and fisheries.

Since he took over the kitchen at the Willows Inn, it has become a global destination, fully booked nearly every night of its annual season, from April to December. Culinary pilgrims come for multicourse dinners of foraged dandelions, custards infused with roasted birch bark and salmon pulled from Pacific waters they can see from the dining room. After dinner, they float up to one of the luxe-rustic bedrooms, and wake up to wild blackberries and long-fermented sourdough.

Beyond the food, they come for the story, and pay at least $500 to live in it for a night.

But 35 former staff members who spoke to The New York Times said that story — the one Mr. Wetzel tells to diners, to the media and to aspiring chefs who come to Lummi to learn from him — is deeply misleading.

For years, they said, Mr. Wetzel’s culinary pedigree and the Willows’ idyllic image have hidden an ugly reality that includes routine faking of “island” ingredients physical intimidation and verbal abuse by Mr. Wetzel, including racist, sexist and homophobic slurs and sexual harassment of female employees by male kitchen staff members. In March, the Willows agreed to pay $600,000 to settle a class-action lawsuit, after a 2017 federal investigation confirmed accounts of wage theft and other unfair labor practices.

Former employees who grew up on the island told The Times that as teenage girls, they were touched inappropriately, given drugs and alcohol and pressured into having sex by men on the kitchen staff and visiting chefs. Former managers said Mr. Wetzel and the inn’s longtime manager, Reid Johnson, have been aware of these troubling patterns for years, but did little or nothing to change them.

In response to questions from The Times, Mr. Wetzel wrote, “We are deeply saddened to learn that some former employees shared concerns about our business. Our goal is for anyone who works at the Willows to think of us as the most kind, caring, generous, and talented people they have ever worked with and that the Willows was the best job they have ever had. If we are missing that mark in any way, we must improve.”

In a subsequent email, Mr. Wetzel, 35, denied the substance of most allegations. Mr. Johnson did not respond to requests for comment.

Meredith O’Malley, 29, was a dining room manager at Del Posto in Manhattan when she dined at the Willows in 2016, soon after Mr. Wetzel was named Best Chef in the Northwest by the James Beard Foundation. She immediately decided to move to Lummi to work as a server on the inn’s team of 30-odd people. “You think it’s going to be this dream: local sourcing, one service a day, sunsets every night,” she said. “But all these problems were swept under the rug.”

Along with eight other senior staff members, she resigned last season, disgusted by a toxic culture they say begins with Mr. Wetzel’s autocratic, erratic management style and permeates the workplace.

“I am really proud of the work I did there,” said Teo Crider, 31, who resigned as bar manager in November after five years at the Willows. “But the atmosphere was nightmarish.”

Some former employees said the Willows is no worse than other top kitchens, where perfectionism is rewarded and fanaticism about ingredients is admired. “I wanted to learn and grow, and I didn’t take it personally when Blaine was being tough,” said Robert Mendoza, who now heads the kitchen at the Paris restaurant Vivant.

But far more said that Mr. Wetzel’s substitutions cross the line into deception, and that his behavior often crossed the line into abuse.

The Willows opened for the 2021 season this month. Some of the new chefs have worked with Mr. Wetzel’s wife, the celebrated chef Daniela Soto-Innes, who won awards and accolades for her modern Mexican cooking at the New York City restaurants Cosme and Atla. Ms. Soto-Innes resigned from those restaurants in December and moved to Lummi, but she and Mr. Wetzel told The Times she had never worked at the Willows.

The couple’s romance, lavishly documented on Instagram since they met in 2018, has added a glamorous chapter to Mr. Wetzel’s story. His fame rests on his longtime claim of using only the island’s locally foraged, fished and farmed ingredients, mainly from the inn’s one-acre Loganita Farm.

But all of the restaurant employees interviewed disputed that claim. In fact, they said, most ingredients were ordered from distributors and farms on the mainland. When local produce ran out, cooks routinely bought supermarket ingredients, like beets and broccoli, that were then passed off as grown or gathered on Lummi.

They said “Pacific octopus” arrived frozen from Spain and Portugal “wild” venison purportedly shot on the island was farm-raised in Idaho “roasted chicken drippings,” part of a signature dish, were made in big batches from organic chickens bought at Costco.

“On my first day, I was cutting frozen Alaskan scallops down to the shape and size of pink singing scallops,” said Julia Olmos, 24, a line cook from 2017 to 2019.

Mr. Wetzel’s claim, said a longtime sous-chef, Scott Weymiller, was mathematically impossible: to serve 25 different plates to up to 40 people, six nights a week, from a nine-square-mile island. “You can do that for two days, but you can’t do it for two weeks,” said Mr. Weymiller, 32. “Much less for an entire season.”

Guests who requested vegetarian and vegan versions of the menu, they said, were routinely served standard dishes made with chicken and seafood. Mr. Wetzel denied this.

“If a cook asked me now if they should go work there, I’d say, ‘It’s not the place you think it is,’” said Julian Rane, a chef from 2017 to 2019.

In response, Mr. Wetzel said “we never misrepresent our ingredient sources” and described how the Willows grows and sources food on the island. He did not, however, deny that many ingredients came from elsewhere, including organic chickens.

Employees said they were uncomfortable with the lies, but far more troubled by the poisonous work atmosphere.

“The way in which people were abused and belittled there was horrifying,” said Spencer Verkuilen, 28, who said Mr. Wetzel shoved, screamed at and sent him home in full view of customers when he served a course out of order to one table. (Mr. Wetzel denied this several employees confirmed it.)

“I would go farther than a boys’ club,” said Phaedra Brucato, 33, a former sommelier. “It was ‘eat or be eaten.’”

In recent years, the restaurant industry’s longstanding tolerance of tyrannical chefs has begun to crumble. The #MeToo and Black Lives Matter movements have produced new awareness and language regarding inequality, bias and harassment in kitchens. Leading chefs like René Redzepi of Noma and David Chang of Momofuku have acknowledged the harm caused by their past behavior, and many others have vowed to raise professional standards.

But Willows employees said the kitchen atmosphere of misogynistic language and homophobic slurs has remained. Mr. Wetzel has publicly humiliated cooks whose work displeased him, often using a derogatory term for mentally disabled people to disparage them. He also has used racist language to describe Latino employees and Asian customers, they said.

“We used to laugh it off, give Blaine the benefit of the doubt,” said Larry Nguyen, who arrived at the Willows in 2018, having cooked at renowned restaurants like Noma, and Central in Lima, Peru. “We fully believed it was ignorance.”

But last summer, Mr. Nguyen said, after he and another Asian-American chef confronted Mr. Wetzel about using offensive language, including a racist slur directed at them, Mr. Wetzel denied ever having done so. Both chefs resigned within a day. Mr. Weymiller, the sous-chef, also quit in solidarity.

Mr. Wetzel said he had never used racist language of any kind. “My stepmom and brother are Chinese, my wife is Mexican, and anyone that would claim I was racist is lying.”

Female cooks said that in addition to enduring constant barrages of sexual innuendo from male colleagues, they were consistently blocked from promotion and nudged out of the main kitchen by Mr. Wetzel.

More than 30 women have worked in the kitchen as interns and line cooks, Mr. Wetzel said. But none have been promoted to sous-chef or chef de cuisine the two women he identified as former sous-chefs there said they had never held that job. (On the innkeeping side, and in the dining room, some women have been promoted to managerial positions.)

Jen Curtis, 39, was a seasoned chef de cuisine when she left a job and went back to culinary school, just so she would be eligible to cook at the Willows as an intern. “The cuisine is what I identify with,” said Ms. Curtis, who grew up on a Cape Cod farm. “Hyperseasonal, coastal, handmade.”

A Rise in Anti-Asian Attacks

A torrent of hate and violence against people of Asian descent around the United States began last spring, in the early days of the coronavirus pandemic.

    • Pozadina: Community leaders say the bigotry was fueled by President Donald J. Trump, who frequently used racist language like “Chinese virus” to refer to the coronavirus.
    • Podaci: The New York Times, using media reports from across the country to capture a sense of the rising tide of anti-Asian bias, found more than 110 episodes since March 2020 in which there was clear evidence of race-based hate.
    • UnderreportedHate Crimes: The tally may be only a sliver of the violence and harassment given the general undercounting of hate crimes, but the broad survey captures the episodes of violence across the country that grew in number amid Mr. Trump's comments.
    • In New York: A wave of xenophobia and violence has been compounded by the economic fallout of the pandemic, which has dealt a severe blow to New York’s Asian-American communities. Many community leaders say racist assaults are being overlooked by the authorities.
    • What Happened inAtlanta: Eight people, including six women of Asian descent, were killed in shootings at massage parlors in Atlanta on March 16. A Georgia prosecutor said that the Atlanta-area spa shootings were hate crimes, and that she would pursue the death penalty against the suspect, who has been charged with murder.

    When she was hired full time, she said, Mr. Wetzel told her she was in line for a sous-chef position. (Many employees said they had heard the same promise, usually when they were on the verge of quitting.) But she said that after two years of watching younger men steadily being promoted ahead of her, and seeing other female chefs ignored, she resigned.

    Mr. Wetzel said: “I support female chefs with all my heart (so much so that I married one). Anyone that would claim that I don’t support female chefs is lying.”

    Many former employees said they put up with Mr. Wetzel’s offensive language, sexism and bullying, because a recommendation from him is a springboard to any cooking job in the world. But many others left midseason, or walked out midshift.

    “There were countless times I tried to get upper management to bring in H.R. to deal with our problems,” said Anne Treat, 42, who was fired in September 2020 after confronting Mr. Wetzel. “There was no interest in why we were constantly losing employees.”

    Going to Mr. Johnson, the longtime manager, was the only recourse for the many employees who clashed with Mr. Wetzel. But, they said, Mr. Johnson boasted about a “hands-off” management style that made it unnecessary for him to intervene, and never acted on complaints against Mr. Wetzel.

    Mr. Johnson did not comment for this article, but Mr. Wetzel wrote, “Reid Johnson records, reports and acts on every complaint in the workplace in the appropriate manner.”

    Mr. Wetzel added that the Willows had “an independent H.R. consultant available at all times,” but would not confirm when the person was hired. Employees said it was during the 2020 season, as the senior staff was resigning en masse and the Willows, like many workplaces, was forced to confront its institutional racism and other problems.

    In 2017, after employees reported the Willows to the U.S. Department of Labor, the department found that it had violated federal law by forcing employees to work 14-hour days for as little as $50, and by using “stagiaires” — a French term for culinary interns — as free labor. The inn was fined $149,000 and forced to end its intern program.

    In March, Mr. Wetzel agreed to pay $600,000 to settle a subsequent class-action lawsuit, brought by 99 employees over various forms of wage theft, including misappropriation of tips and failure to pay overtime or provide rest breaks to employees working 14-hour days. As part of the settlement, he was not required to admit any wrongdoing.

    According to public records, Mr. Wetzel co-owns the Willows with one partner, Tim McEvoy, who did not respond to requests for comment.

    After 10 years with Mr. Wetzel in charge, the relationship between the inn and Lummi’s residents is showing signs of strain.

    A dozen women who worked at the Willows said that men on Mr. Wetzel’s kitchen crew constantly harassed teenage employees from the island with sexual overtures and innuendo, pressured them to stay after work hours to “party,” and plied them with alcohol and drugs to make them compliant.

    Female employees from the island said Mr. Wetzel and other managers ordered them to lose weight and get manicures and eyelash extensions at their own expense, in order to polish the image the restaurant wanted to project. Mr. Wetzel denied this.

    Local girls were assumed by male employees to be sexually mature, they said “island age” was a running joke. “‘Lummi Island 16’ meant that you were available for sex, and that any kind of creepy and predatory behavior was fine,” said Sarah Letchworth, 21, who was 15 when she started working there. (Several women who worked at the Willows said they did have sex with kitchen crew members. All said it occurred after they turned 16, the legal age of consent in Washington State. None said Mr. Wetzel had sex with staff members.)

    Many employees said Mr. Wetzel and Mr. Johnson were frequently present at events where underage employees drank with older staff members until they were unconscious. When Ms. Letchworth was 18, she said, Mr. Wetzel offered her a ride home from a party but instead drove to his house, then refused to take her home unless she did rounds of shots with him. He then drove her home while drunk, she said. Mr. Wetzel denied this.

    “Those girls were our sisters and our daughters,” said Kari Southworth, 43, who grew up on the island, managed the restaurant in its previous incarnation, and stayed until 2014, when, she said, the Willows’ celebration of the island had turned into exploitation. “They treat the community with no respect,” she said.

    The pandemic proved to be a breaking point. Mr. Wetzel reopened the restaurant in June, and in the fall, at least one Covid-19 case on the island was traced to a guest at the inn.

    “They were bringing people over on the ferry every night,” said Rhaychell Davis, a former employee who lives on the island with her two daughters. “And they stayed silent about it while we all were panicking.”

    The Willows managers said that they feared for the safety of guests, staff and islanders, and that Mr. Wetzel’s response underlined leadership failures that had been accumulating for years.

    “The island is beautiful, the people are kind, the seafood is incredible, just like he says,” said Mr. Nguyen, 32, the chef who resigned because of Mr. Wetzel’s denials. “But our faith was broken.”


    1. When Snapchat CEO Had Tough Times

    “Snapchat is for rich people, don’t want to expand in poor countries like India and Spain,” said CEO Evan Spiegel according to a lawsuit filed by the company’s former manager. As soon as the words reached the Indian media, outraged Indians started a campaign to uninstall Snapchat from their devices.

    The media-sharing application has a huge user base in India, and people started giving negative reviews and ratings on iStore and on the Google Play Store. Snapchat clearly denied the allegations, but the controversy made the company witness a fall in its shares. Some anonymous hackers from India also claimed that they leaked the data of 1.7 million Snapchat users on the dark web and put the company in trouble.


    Gledaj video: Samoubojstvo.. pričam o stvarima o kojima nikad nisam (Siječanj 2022).