The Tennessean
September 17, 2008 Wednesday
SECTION: A1
LENGTH: 1761 words
BY BRAD SCHRADE
Staff Writer
Worried about your health insurance? You may want to consider running for Metro Council.
A little-known benefit for Nashville's 40-member part-time legislative body is taxpayer-subsidized health insurance - for life. Council members can carry the benefit even after they leave the legislative body, as long as they serve for parts of two straight terms and have the insurance while in office.
The council itself earlier this year sweetened the benefit, lowering the number of years of service necessary to receive the subsidized health insurance after members leave office. It was done to help a recent former councilman who failed to meet the eight-year service requirement.
There are 18 current members and 28 former members who carry the subsidized health benefit, which is costing taxpayers $362,700 this year. Their ages range from 39 to 85, and in many cases their families are included in the coverage. Some receive the benefit even though they are eligible for Medicare.
"It's clearly a nice benefit for the council for their service," Metro Finance Director Rich Riebeling said.
Those who defend the benefit say it's been in place since the days when council members received less than $7,000 a year, making them some of the lowest-paid elected public servants in the country. The health-care benefit helped make up for the low pay, but it remained in place when the council in 2003 voted to raise members' pay to $15,000.
The lifetime health care, many say, is the last remaining perk for council members in their service to the citizens of Davidson County. Gone are the free parking passes around town, golf passes to public courses and free movie tickets - all swept away in recent years under new ethics guidelines.
Council members say the part-time job year requires numerous hours of attention to constituent issues, constant monitoring of e-mail, phone messages and long meetings during the week - all activities that cut into a council member's family and professional life.
Some say they didn't know how much of the cost Metro taxpayers were paying, but several pointed out that they are paying a share of the cost.
Like Metro employees, council and former members pay 25 percent of the cost, and the city pays the rest. But Metro employees don't get to take the benefit with them if they leave before they're eligible for retirement.
The benefit for a family plan can cost Metro as much as $930 a month per member. Metro costs for individual plans start at around $215.
"It's certainly not a windfall," said former Councilman Adam Dread, one of the 28 former members who get the benefit. "There's nothing free about it. What I'm being able to do is keep paying in on what I was paying on before."
Dread, who was an at-large member, was the outgoing councilman behind the law change earlier this year. Dread served on the council for five years from 2002 to 2007, winning Howard Gentry's council seat after Gentry became vice mayor when Ronnie Steine resigned in midterm.
Dread, who describes himself as "very conservative" on fiscal issues, said someone in Metro told him he would be able to continue receiving subsidized insurance after he left office.
But he received a notice after leaving saying he didn't qualify because he hadn't served the eight years, even though he had been forced to leave office because he had reached the two-term limit - one of those being a partial term.
Dread, an attorney, could have continued receiving the Metro insurance but would have had to cover the full cost, which for a family plan exceeded $1,200 a month. That was a cost he said he couldn't afford.
Compounding his problem was a stroke he had in 2003, which he says makes him uninsurable.
Dread hired a lawyer and pressed the Metro benefit board for relief. That didn't come until January when his former colleagues on the Metro Council passed legislation allowing for term-limited council members who serve less than eight years to receive the health benefit.
"It cost me several thousand dollars to do this," he said. "If I'd dropped it, I would have been uninsurable."
{}Not all use benefit
Nationally, major medical coverage can cost an average of $800 to $1,200 a month for a family depending on age of the family members, their health and medical history.
Council insurance benefits have been part of the job for decades, but the benefit for years was restricted to those serving on the council. In the early 1990s, the council changed the law to allow them to continue receiving the subsidized health insurance after leaving office, said Don Jones, the council's longtime attorney and former staff director.
The change was prompted at the time when a similar benefit was extended to general session court judges, Jones said, and council members asked why they couldn't have the same benefit. He said the appeal of the benefit for council members would decrease if the co-pay is increased to bring it more in the line with the private sector, where employees can pay up to 50 percent of the cost, Jones said.
Jones said many new members at first aren't aware that the council has a health benefit, but even after learning about it some keep their existing plans.
"It's kind of a mixed bag," Jones said. "It's a big benefit for those who are self-employed."
Subsidized health insurance for life is a benefit not many employees would receive, said Kenneth E. Thorpe, chairman of the Department of Health Policy and Management at Emory University.
"That's obviously a very generous benefit," Thorpe said. "That's the issue you see that's somewhat different from the federal and state levels."
State lawmakers elected to their positions get to maintain health insurance after leaving office, but those who serve less than 20 years in office must pay 40 percent of the cost, while those who serve between 20 and 30 years pay 30 percent. More than 30 years in office and a former lawmaker pays
20 percent, which is the payment percentage for the health benefit while serving. State lawmakers also are eligible for a pension, which Metro council members do not receive.
{}Future costs unknown
David Briley, a former councilman at large, said the benefit was something he considered as he weighed seeking a second term. He said serving on the council has a cost in lost time at work and at home. The insurance gives him flexibility if changes jobs or becomes self-employed again.
"One of the things that balanced out the sacrifice to my family for serving was the portability of the group plan," he said. "We made a particular sacrifice for eight years and this is the benefit of this sacrifice."
The city does not project how much the benefit could cost taxpayers in the future. The introduction of term limits in the 1990s, however, ensured that there would be more turnover on the 40-member council, making more people eligible for the benefit.
Many private companies are getting away from promised health-care benefits after retirement because of the unknown costs involved, said Larry Van Horn, a Vanderbilt University economist who studies the health-care system.
He said even though the council benefit may be promised to a relatively small group, it will still carry costs well into the future.
"There's a real liability to the government if it's booking that benefit and funding it," Van Horn said. "That's a pretty significant expense."
Councilman Mike Jameson has expressed reservations about carrying the benefit after leaving office. Jameson, an attorney, is among the 18 current council members who receive the benefit. He said he doesn't think he will use the benefit after leaving office.
"To continue to get it beyond being on the council, maybe you deserve it or not," Jameson said. "I think it has a perception issue in the same vein as the council receiving free golf passes and parking."
{}Some opt out of plan
Roy Dale, a former councilman who served in the 1990s, has had the insurance since he joined the council. Back then, he said, council members made $400 a month for serving. Dale, who owns a civil engineering firm, said he didn't know how much he or Metro paid for his family insurance plan each month because he gives the bills to his bookkeeper. Records show the city pays $933 a month for his family plan, while he pays $311.
Dale said he has heard council members talk about the health benefit, and even heard one councilman talk about seeking a second term to receive the benefit after leaving office. Dale said he would be willing to pay the full cost to continue receiving the benefit.
"I tend to probably agree the public should not have to foot the bill on these individuals," he said. "Probably when you leave council you should be able to continue to keep your insurance and pay the cost."
Former Councilman Leo Waters continues to receive the health benefit. He said the insurance cost significantly less than what he was paying when he had a private plan, but it didn't influence his decision to run for council.
"Health insurance is so critical these days," Waters said. "Not everybody qualifies for a group plan. If you know about it, it might influence people to run for council. I think that would be a mistake if the was the only factor because there's a lot more involved in being a Metro councilman."
Brad Schrade can be reached at 615-259-8086 or bschrade@tennessean.com
Staff writer Getahn Ward contributed to this report.
{}HOW METRO HEALTH INSURANCE COMPARES
{}WHAT A METRO COUNCIL MEMBER GETS
* The city pays 75 percent of monthly health insurance premiums for the council member and family while serving.
* The council members can carry that benefit for life if they serve parts of two straight terms and carry the insurance while on the council.
* The benefit currently costs the city as much as $930 a month for a former council member with a family plan, or $11,160 per year.
* If a council member drops his or her Metro health insurance coverage, he or she cannot get it back.Most private health plans do not continue after an employee leaves a company, except there are some exceptions for retirees.
{}OTHER HEALTH INSURANCE PLANS
* Metro's general government employees must be eligible for retirment to carry their health benefit after they leave city employment.
* The insurance benefit for ex-state lawmakers pays 60 percent of the benefit if the lawmaker has less than 20 years of service, 70 percent for 20 to 30 years and 20 percent for over 30 years service. State lawmakers also get a pension benefit.
* Most private health plans do not continue after an employee leaves a company, except there are some exceptions for retirees.
Showing posts with label government. Show all posts
Showing posts with label government. Show all posts
law lets thugs pack heat
Law lets thugs pack heat The Tennessean (Nashville, Tennessee) August 16, 2009 Sunday
Copyright 2009 The Tennessean
All Rights Reserved
The Tennessean (Nashville, Tennessee)
August 16, 2009 Sunday
SECTION: NEWS
LENGTH: 1764 words
HEADLINE: Law lets thugs pack heat
BYLINE: NEWS0201
BODY:
THE TENNESSEAN
Some might question the wisdom of allowing Carlos Antwan Fletcher to carry a loaded handgun in public. He has a lengthy criminal arrest history, including being involved in a violent attack that sent a Metro Police officer to the hospital, a separate aggravated assault charge and various drug and gun arrests.
Yet, the state has said it's OK for the 28-year-old Nashville resident to carry a gun. And, in fact, lawmakers expanded his rights this year to legally carry a gun into restaurants and parks.
Fletcher's past is not typical of the 237,000 Tennesseans who have obtained gun permits and renew them regularly. Most permit holders are law-abiding, a fact that politicians touted often when pushing for more rights this year.
But not touted, and often ignored, is a persistent group of Tennesseans with violent pasts who carry gun permits through loopholes, administrative mistakes and the realities of a court system where charges based on violent incidents can be reduced or eliminated in plea bargains.
The state Department of Correction, which runs the prison system, has about 500 people in its records of felons whose names appear to match those of gun permit holders. State law prohibits felons - people convicted of what are considered the state's most serious crimes - from holding a gun permit and legally carrying a handgun.
When The Tennessean showed these matches to the agency that handles and approves handgun permit applications, the state Department of Safety, it found that most of them have a legal reason to hold their permit.
Fletcher is one of them, despite his repeated run-ins with the law. Several felony charges over the years that would have disqualified him for a gun permit were either reduced to misdemeanors or dismissed.
The most serious offense was in January 2000, when Metro Police Officer William McKay was assaulted and knocked unconscious after a traffic stop in south Davidson County. The driver, Leslie Darnell Lewis, who has a lengthy arrest record for various violent and gun charges, tried to lose the officer on side roads off Harding Place near Interstate 24, according to the officer's account.
When McKay finally pulled Lewis over, the driver tried to flee and a fight broke out between the two, the report said.
Lewis hit the officer on the face and head, and yelled, "Help me get him," according to the police report. Fletcher, a passenger in the Cadillac, grabbed the officer's arm, while Lewis continued to hit him with a blunt object, the report said.
"You hit him with the gun," the report quoted one of the men as saying.
McKay fell unconscious.
Lewis fled on foot. Fletcher later was evasive with police about Lewis' identity, but said he saw the officer going for his gun and ran between the two to try to break up the fight. He later called 911.
Fletcher was initially accused of attempted criminal homicide, according to police reports, but that was reduced to felony aggravated assault. In the end, he pleaded guilty to misdemeanor assault and got a year of probation.
In 2004, he was again charged with aggravated assault. When his girlfriend refused to get back with him, he showed up outside her South Nashville home waving a handgun and threatening her, according to an affidavit. She watched as he jumped atop her car and kicked in the window, the affidavit said. Court records say the charge was dismissed. In a case dated 2004 but resolved in 2005, he was found guilty of vandalism, but it's unclear if the cases were related.
In 2007, when the Department of Safety flagged Fletcher and denied him a gun permit, he appealed to Davidson County General Sessions Court. His attorney, Jim Todd, said he didn't have any disqualifying convictions and the court overruled the state's findings.
In 2008, Fletcher again found himself before a judge on a raft of felony and misdemeanor charges stemming from a May 2006 drug arrest by Metro Police. Fletcher had a loaded .357 Glock handgun in his front pocket, three cell phones and $3,165 cash when police busted him and two other men, according to the police report. The plea agreement in 2008 dropped all felony charges, and Fletcher pleaded guilty to a misdemeanor weapon possession charge, receiving a year of probation. Today he has a gun permit.
"Being charged with something and being convicted of something are two different things," Todd said. "I don't think it's discretionary. It's simply, do you have the convictions or not."
Todd said he could not assist the newspaper in reaching Fletcher. Phone calls to an address where Fletcher once lived went unreturned last week.
Politics, inconsistencies
Cases like Fletcher's are troubling, but familiar to gun-control advocates.
"Tennessee's laws are among the weakest in the country to keep guns away from dangerous people," said Daniel Vice, senior attorney with the Brady Campaign to Prevent Gun Violence, a Washington-based group that monitors gun-control laws nationally.
He said in some states authorities have discretion to prevent dangerous or unstable people from getting guns, even if they have not committed a disqualifying crime.
Tennessee tried to give some discretion to permitting officials in the mid-1990s when local sheriffs were charged with determining who got a permit. Politics and inconsistencies from district to district led to some who deserved to get a permit being denied, according to John Harris, an attorney and a gun-rights advocate.
Harris' group, Tennessee Fire arms Association, has fought legislative battles for years to expand gun rights.
"We've got to have an objective standard that can almost be applied by a computer; otherwise it's a slippery slope," Harris said.
He sees a day when no carry permits will be required in Tennessee. He doesn't think the legislature would pass such a measure now, but five years out, the political climate could be different. Alaska and Vermont have no permitting requirements.
"The permit really is not that effective," Harris said. "The people who couldn't get the permit are going to carry anyway. It's not going to stop them. The people who want to carry and can legally carry the permit, it's just a roadblock that keeps some of them from qualifying because they can't afford it." A permit plus a required handgun safety class can cost around $250.
Communication failures
The state's gun permit laws have been a hot-button issue in recent years. A permit allows one to legally carry a handgun in public.
In the past few years, Tennessee media outlets reported a number of cases in which convicted felons were getting or renewing gun permits. Reporters used permit records to make the identifications.
The accessibility of the records led some gun permit holders to bristle at the ability of reporters or anyone else to find out if they have a permit, and lawmakers earlier this year sought unsuccessfully to close handgun permit records from public scrutiny.
Safety Commissioner Dave Mitchell, who would not grant an interview for this story, said through a spokesman that he welcomes the press attention, and that it has helped fix problems in the program.
"The commissioner thinks that's a good thing," Safety spokesman Mike Browning said. "The more scrutiny put on it the better because we're finding people that are disqualified to be a handgun permit holder."
A year ago, the Department of Safety was sending hundreds of letters to suspected felons to revoke or verify the legality of their permits.
But of the 500 permit holders with questionable histories identified by The Tennessean in recent weeks, the Department of Safety reviewed more than 300, and said that all but 14 had the permit legally.
The department has since revoked permits in six of the 14 cases, suspended six others and sent letters to the remaining two seeking more information about the disposition of their charges.
Still, the department acknowledges problems persist, with the biggest being communication breakdowns with courts or local police agencies.
A court is supposed to notify the department when a suspect with a felony or disqualifying misdemeanor, which includes domestic violence, stalking or a second DUI, comes before it so the department can suspend or revoke the permit.
Some courts are not diligent about sending the notification. Take the case of Russell Byron Cain.
He was arrested in Wilson County in April 2008 on charges of aggravated sexual battery and sexual exploitation of a minor, according to Safety, but no one notified the department of the arrest or subsequent conviction.
Cain, 62, is serving a 24-year prison term for the crime, according to Safety, but he continues to hold his permit behind bars. His case is one of 14 the department is acting on after The Tennessean's questions.
"We still have a problem with the courts not notifying us," Browning said. "If someone did something yesterday that disqualifies them, we want to know that as soon as possible."
The department also has had problems with local police agencies not telling them when permit holders are arrested, despite training to emphasize the importance of timely notification. That, too, leaves some dangerous offenders with permits when they should have been suspended.
"It's been cleaned up an awful lot," said commander Col. Mike Walker with the Tennessee Highway Patrol, which oversees Safety's gun permitting unit. "As long as you have the human element involved, with so many different agencies involved there are going to be some problems."
A lack of options
Two high-level law enforcement officials in Nashville said the law as it stands leaves them with few options in some of these extreme cases.
Metro Police Chief Ronal Serpas said cases such as Fletcher's are a concern.
"The circumstances of the cases you have brought to our attention can certainly lead one to reasonably question the judgment and character of these individuals, and whether they should have permits to carry guns in public, including bars and restaurants," Serpas said in a statement. "But again, the law is the law."
Davidson County District Attorney Torry Johnson said Fletcher's record didn't have a felony, and the court ruled it was not a disqualifying factor.
Johnson said the law would need to be changed to prevent someone who's in and out of the justice system but doesn't have a disqualifying offense, from getting a handgun permit.
"It's going to be up to the legislature if they want to tighten the restrictions that much more and, again, how do you do that?" he said.
Database editor Lisa Green performed data analysis for this story.
Brad Schrade can be reached at
615-259-8086 or bschrade@
tennessean.com.
LOAD-DATE: August 16, 2009
Copyright 2009 The Tennessean
All Rights Reserved
The Tennessean (Nashville, Tennessee)
August 16, 2009 Sunday
SECTION: NEWS
LENGTH: 1764 words
HEADLINE: Law lets thugs pack heat
BYLINE: NEWS0201
BODY:
THE TENNESSEAN
Some might question the wisdom of allowing Carlos Antwan Fletcher to carry a loaded handgun in public. He has a lengthy criminal arrest history, including being involved in a violent attack that sent a Metro Police officer to the hospital, a separate aggravated assault charge and various drug and gun arrests.
Yet, the state has said it's OK for the 28-year-old Nashville resident to carry a gun. And, in fact, lawmakers expanded his rights this year to legally carry a gun into restaurants and parks.
Fletcher's past is not typical of the 237,000 Tennesseans who have obtained gun permits and renew them regularly. Most permit holders are law-abiding, a fact that politicians touted often when pushing for more rights this year.
But not touted, and often ignored, is a persistent group of Tennesseans with violent pasts who carry gun permits through loopholes, administrative mistakes and the realities of a court system where charges based on violent incidents can be reduced or eliminated in plea bargains.
The state Department of Correction, which runs the prison system, has about 500 people in its records of felons whose names appear to match those of gun permit holders. State law prohibits felons - people convicted of what are considered the state's most serious crimes - from holding a gun permit and legally carrying a handgun.
When The Tennessean showed these matches to the agency that handles and approves handgun permit applications, the state Department of Safety, it found that most of them have a legal reason to hold their permit.
Fletcher is one of them, despite his repeated run-ins with the law. Several felony charges over the years that would have disqualified him for a gun permit were either reduced to misdemeanors or dismissed.
The most serious offense was in January 2000, when Metro Police Officer William McKay was assaulted and knocked unconscious after a traffic stop in south Davidson County. The driver, Leslie Darnell Lewis, who has a lengthy arrest record for various violent and gun charges, tried to lose the officer on side roads off Harding Place near Interstate 24, according to the officer's account.
When McKay finally pulled Lewis over, the driver tried to flee and a fight broke out between the two, the report said.
Lewis hit the officer on the face and head, and yelled, "Help me get him," according to the police report. Fletcher, a passenger in the Cadillac, grabbed the officer's arm, while Lewis continued to hit him with a blunt object, the report said.
"You hit him with the gun," the report quoted one of the men as saying.
McKay fell unconscious.
Lewis fled on foot. Fletcher later was evasive with police about Lewis' identity, but said he saw the officer going for his gun and ran between the two to try to break up the fight. He later called 911.
Fletcher was initially accused of attempted criminal homicide, according to police reports, but that was reduced to felony aggravated assault. In the end, he pleaded guilty to misdemeanor assault and got a year of probation.
In 2004, he was again charged with aggravated assault. When his girlfriend refused to get back with him, he showed up outside her South Nashville home waving a handgun and threatening her, according to an affidavit. She watched as he jumped atop her car and kicked in the window, the affidavit said. Court records say the charge was dismissed. In a case dated 2004 but resolved in 2005, he was found guilty of vandalism, but it's unclear if the cases were related.
In 2007, when the Department of Safety flagged Fletcher and denied him a gun permit, he appealed to Davidson County General Sessions Court. His attorney, Jim Todd, said he didn't have any disqualifying convictions and the court overruled the state's findings.
In 2008, Fletcher again found himself before a judge on a raft of felony and misdemeanor charges stemming from a May 2006 drug arrest by Metro Police. Fletcher had a loaded .357 Glock handgun in his front pocket, three cell phones and $3,165 cash when police busted him and two other men, according to the police report. The plea agreement in 2008 dropped all felony charges, and Fletcher pleaded guilty to a misdemeanor weapon possession charge, receiving a year of probation. Today he has a gun permit.
"Being charged with something and being convicted of something are two different things," Todd said. "I don't think it's discretionary. It's simply, do you have the convictions or not."
Todd said he could not assist the newspaper in reaching Fletcher. Phone calls to an address where Fletcher once lived went unreturned last week.
Politics, inconsistencies
Cases like Fletcher's are troubling, but familiar to gun-control advocates.
"Tennessee's laws are among the weakest in the country to keep guns away from dangerous people," said Daniel Vice, senior attorney with the Brady Campaign to Prevent Gun Violence, a Washington-based group that monitors gun-control laws nationally.
He said in some states authorities have discretion to prevent dangerous or unstable people from getting guns, even if they have not committed a disqualifying crime.
Tennessee tried to give some discretion to permitting officials in the mid-1990s when local sheriffs were charged with determining who got a permit. Politics and inconsistencies from district to district led to some who deserved to get a permit being denied, according to John Harris, an attorney and a gun-rights advocate.
Harris' group, Tennessee Fire arms Association, has fought legislative battles for years to expand gun rights.
"We've got to have an objective standard that can almost be applied by a computer; otherwise it's a slippery slope," Harris said.
He sees a day when no carry permits will be required in Tennessee. He doesn't think the legislature would pass such a measure now, but five years out, the political climate could be different. Alaska and Vermont have no permitting requirements.
"The permit really is not that effective," Harris said. "The people who couldn't get the permit are going to carry anyway. It's not going to stop them. The people who want to carry and can legally carry the permit, it's just a roadblock that keeps some of them from qualifying because they can't afford it." A permit plus a required handgun safety class can cost around $250.
Communication failures
The state's gun permit laws have been a hot-button issue in recent years. A permit allows one to legally carry a handgun in public.
In the past few years, Tennessee media outlets reported a number of cases in which convicted felons were getting or renewing gun permits. Reporters used permit records to make the identifications.
The accessibility of the records led some gun permit holders to bristle at the ability of reporters or anyone else to find out if they have a permit, and lawmakers earlier this year sought unsuccessfully to close handgun permit records from public scrutiny.
Safety Commissioner Dave Mitchell, who would not grant an interview for this story, said through a spokesman that he welcomes the press attention, and that it has helped fix problems in the program.
"The commissioner thinks that's a good thing," Safety spokesman Mike Browning said. "The more scrutiny put on it the better because we're finding people that are disqualified to be a handgun permit holder."
A year ago, the Department of Safety was sending hundreds of letters to suspected felons to revoke or verify the legality of their permits.
But of the 500 permit holders with questionable histories identified by The Tennessean in recent weeks, the Department of Safety reviewed more than 300, and said that all but 14 had the permit legally.
The department has since revoked permits in six of the 14 cases, suspended six others and sent letters to the remaining two seeking more information about the disposition of their charges.
Still, the department acknowledges problems persist, with the biggest being communication breakdowns with courts or local police agencies.
A court is supposed to notify the department when a suspect with a felony or disqualifying misdemeanor, which includes domestic violence, stalking or a second DUI, comes before it so the department can suspend or revoke the permit.
Some courts are not diligent about sending the notification. Take the case of Russell Byron Cain.
He was arrested in Wilson County in April 2008 on charges of aggravated sexual battery and sexual exploitation of a minor, according to Safety, but no one notified the department of the arrest or subsequent conviction.
Cain, 62, is serving a 24-year prison term for the crime, according to Safety, but he continues to hold his permit behind bars. His case is one of 14 the department is acting on after The Tennessean's questions.
"We still have a problem with the courts not notifying us," Browning said. "If someone did something yesterday that disqualifies them, we want to know that as soon as possible."
The department also has had problems with local police agencies not telling them when permit holders are arrested, despite training to emphasize the importance of timely notification. That, too, leaves some dangerous offenders with permits when they should have been suspended.
"It's been cleaned up an awful lot," said commander Col. Mike Walker with the Tennessee Highway Patrol, which oversees Safety's gun permitting unit. "As long as you have the human element involved, with so many different agencies involved there are going to be some problems."
A lack of options
Two high-level law enforcement officials in Nashville said the law as it stands leaves them with few options in some of these extreme cases.
Metro Police Chief Ronal Serpas said cases such as Fletcher's are a concern.
"The circumstances of the cases you have brought to our attention can certainly lead one to reasonably question the judgment and character of these individuals, and whether they should have permits to carry guns in public, including bars and restaurants," Serpas said in a statement. "But again, the law is the law."
Davidson County District Attorney Torry Johnson said Fletcher's record didn't have a felony, and the court ruled it was not a disqualifying factor.
Johnson said the law would need to be changed to prevent someone who's in and out of the justice system but doesn't have a disqualifying offense, from getting a handgun permit.
"It's going to be up to the legislature if they want to tighten the restrictions that much more and, again, how do you do that?" he said.
Database editor Lisa Green performed data analysis for this story.
Brad Schrade can be reached at
615-259-8086 or bschrade@
tennessean.com.
LOAD-DATE: August 16, 2009
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