Scientists Exonerated By ORI Report Lingering Wounds

ALL-CONSUMING: Exonerated researcher Herbert Needleman reports having had "no original ideas" while his case was pending. Those eventually cleared of misconduct charges say the system is too eager to presume them guilty. Approximately 70 percent of cases of alleged scientific misconduct that come to the attention of the Office of Research Integrity (ORI), an arm of the Department of Health and Human Services, end up with the accused being cleared. But what happens to these re- spondents-as ORI calls the accused-after they are exonerated? The Scientist interviewed 10 scientists and physicians who had been formally charged with misconduct in scientific research and subsequently cleared of those charges. Most say that the system is too ready to presume them guilty-and that the "exoneration" does not totally obliterate their ordeal from the public consciousness. The 1996 ORI report, "Survey of Accused but Exonerated Individuals in Research Misconduct Cases,'' reveals that three out of five respondents experienced some negative consequences of being accused. Furthermore, they reported being much more likely to suffer negative effects if their confidentiality was breached. Los Angeles oncologist David Plotkin, who runs the Memorial Cancer Research Foundation of Southern California, knows what it is like to be publicly tarred with a misconduct charge. His center was a participating site in the National Surgical Adjuvant Breast and Bowel Project (NSABP), the long-running, multicentered series of clinical trials that has had a few cases of misconduct among its many sites. (Former NSABP head Bernard Fisher of the University of Pittsburgh was recently exonerated by ORI of misconduct charges brought in 1994.) Plotkin was investigated by ORI for misconduct in 1994 following critical internal audits by the NSABP office that came to the attention of investigative reporter John Crewdson of the Chicago Tribune. The newspaper ran an article that revealed numerous apparent inaccuracies and discrepancies in patient files Plotkin sent to the NSABP (J. Crewdson, Chicago Tribune, May 1, 1994, page 1). ORI exonerated Plotkin in 1995. "To be charged with scientific misconduct when you've spent a chunk of your life doing this and never did anything wrong-it hits you in the gut,'' he says. Being cleared, he adds, was "like being exonerated of the charge of child molestation.'' Unlike Plotkin's case, most charges begin at the university or medical center level, when an allegation is made to an institutional official. Most universities follow a fairly similar protocol. First, an official assesses the allegation to see if it should be handled as possible misconduct or by another grievance procedure. Instances of capricious grading, discrimination, or sexual abuse, for example, do not fall under the Public Health Service misconduct definition. Cases that make this cut proceed to an initial fact-finding, called an inquiry, to determine if an investigation is warranted. A case ends at this stage if no credible evidence of misconduct is discovered; otherwise, it proceeds to a full investigation to determine if misconduct actually occurred. The decision to conduct an investigation, and its outcome, must be reported to ORI if the research is supported by the Public Health Service. In the Plotkin case, ORI's subsequent investigation found that the discrepancies in the internal audits were largely the result of a review of incomplete records, honest error, or differing interpretations of the facts. In an unusual move, ORI issued a press release announcing Plotkin's exoneration. Normally, ORI maintains anonymity of the respondent and merely publishes summaries of cases that result in exoneration. Plotkin, however, wanted the exoneration to be as public as the newspaper accusations (J. Crewdson, Chicago Tribune, June 9, 1995, page 13). Despite the vindication, Plotkin says, "not all has been corrected.'' An investigation that does not result in misconduct-which is how ORI frames an exoneration-is not the same thing as being pronounced innocent, he says. "After nine months, NIH said scientific misconduct had not been found. . . [C]an you see how that doesn't balance'' the harm done by the accusation?, Plotkin asks. ORI's policy, according to acting director Chris Pascal, is to issue a simple statement of exoneration. Often, he says, respondents want a long letter from ORI that not only states that there was no finding of misconduct, but also elaborates in detail that the scientist did nothing wrong. "But that isn't always factually correct and may be antithetical to the interests of the complainant,'' Pascal contends. Indeed, a review of ORI's annual reports and interviews with university officials responsible for overseeing research integrity suggest that very few misconduct cases ending in exoneration are as clear-cut as they appear. For example, of the 14 "no misconduct'' cases summarized in the 1995 annual report, two respondents (including Plotkin) were completely vindicated. Respondents in the other 12 cases, according to the summaries, were guilty of sloppy science or a number of dubious behaviors even as they were cleared of official misconduct. One respondent, the report states, "lacked the skill and understanding to properly use experimental methods and to analyze data.'' Another "had failed to fulfill the responsibilities of a guest editor and had violated the faculty code of conduct by his uncollegial and unethical behavior toward his junior collaborators.'' Photo: John E. Cook LASTING EFFECT: MIT administrator J.David Litster notes that misconduct proceedings have lingering ramifications for those involved. Likewise, university misconduct officials note that "something always happens to spark an allegation, though it may not be as serious" as misconduct, in the words of J. David Litster, vice president for research at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology. His colleague across the Charles River, Margaret Dale, associate dean for faculty affairs of Harvard Medical School, concurs. Findings of "no scientific misconduct'' often mask "sloppy, poor practices,'' she says. Exonerated scientists at Harvard and here may be reprimanded for failures that do not reach the level of misconduct. Recently, a Harvard investigative committee cleared physician and hematology researcher Arnoldo Arbini of misconduct in relation to a questioned paper he published. The committee did reprimand Arbini, however, because of the absence of some primary data for the publication. Arbini says the data were not entered into his notebook "because it was a repetition of an experiment I had done before. I was repeating the experiment until I got a publication-quality gel.'' Now a resident at Yale-New Haven Hospital, Arbini says he had a very bad interpersonal relationship with the whistleblower, another junior scientist in the lab of principal investigator Kenneth Bauer, chief of the hematology/oncology section of the Veterans Administration (VA) hospital in West Roxbury, Mass. The VA is looking into the case because of the missing primary data. The paper in question was allowed to stand because when Arbini repeated the experiment under supervision, he obtained the same results. In an even more tangled case that is not fully resolved, a researcher at the University of California, San Diego, who was accused of misconduct in 1993, was exonerated by a faculty committee at the end of 1996. Maurizio Zanetti, an immunologist and medical school professor, faces further legal hurdles as the whistleblower in the case has filed a "false claims'' lawsuit against him and the university. Under the federal False Claims Act, originally passed during the Civil War, such lawsuits can be brought by whistleblowers who contend that someone defrauded the government. If the suit is won, the whistleblower shares in the award. In this case, the federal government has intervened in the suit, assuming the role of litigator. Zanetti was accused of numerous transgressions, including failing to tell colleagues that a cell line containing HIV was infectious (he denies that it was) and performing unauthorized experiments on laboratory animals. An investigative committee found evidence of misconduct and a lab safety committee put Zanetti on probation. His last resort, a panel of UC-San Diego's Committee on Privilege and Tenure, conducted 15 days of hearings, involving full cross-examination of numerous witnesses, and produced thousands of pages of testimony. That panel found that Zanetti had not committed misconduct but had violated UC-San Diego policies, which Zanetti derisively characterizes as "administrative'' procedures that almost every lab violates. He vehemently denies any misconduct, saying bitterly, "I suffered enormous consequences. The system is entirely pro-accuser, very little pro-defendant.'' Once an "active and interactive scientist,'' Zanetti recalls that the number of calls to his office decreased over time once the charges were made. Further, he maintains that there has been a significant, involuntary decline in his departmental activities. "I used to be invited to dinner when a guest speaker visited the lab, or have a visitor routed through my office. That hasn't happened since.'' Meanwhile, Zanetti's research suffered, because "I was spending more time with lawyers than with people in my laboratory. I had to give up conferences and meetings for a while, because either there wasn't time or the spirit wasn't right.'' He hired a high-powered criminal defense lawyer, Milton Silverman, who was taking his first scientific misconduct case. Silverman led a vigorous defense before the privilege and tenure panel, cross-examining numerous witnesses during what Zanetti terms "a trial.'' Zanetti says the previous investigative committee, which returned a finding of misconduct, did not allow him or his lawyer to cross-examine witnesses and the accuser. This complaint is common among accused scientists. A UC-San Diego spokesman, speaking on condition of anonymity, says the university's policies do not provide for cross-examination at the inquiry and investigative levels. In fact, according to a lawyer and misconduct specialist not involved in the Zanetti matter, due process does not require a full judicial hearing until a level at which sanctions such as loss of tenure can be imposed. Another criticism that many scientists have of misconduct regulations is that allegations are easily used as a weapon to attack someone. Such vindictive allegations are rare, maintains ORI's Pascal. But several of the 10 exonerated scientists interviewed for this article do appear to have been targets of vindictive allegations. It is likely, however, that The Scientist's survey does not reflect the universe of exonerated scientists. A completely innocent scientist who was the victim of a vengeful whistleblower may be more likely to grant an interview than a scientist whose exoneration included caveats. Walter Stewart, a National Institutes of Health employee often associated with his advocacy for whistleblowers, acknowledges that misconduct allegations can be abused as a tool of internal politics. He points out, though, that whistleblowers themselves are sometimes the targets of vindictive allegations. Microbiologist Jeff Williams of Michigan State University brought charges against one of his graduate students in 1989 for improperly sequestering joint data and publishing without permission of coinvestigators. The student promptly filed 10 charges against Williams. It took him months to learn what those charges were, Williams says, because the university would not tell him. Ultimately, he was cleared while the student was found to have committed misconduct. Medical research involving potentially large liability payouts may be ripe for misconduct allegations from vested interests. Herbert Needleman, a well-known investigator of low-level lead poisoning from the University of Pittsburgh, was accused of unscientific behavior by two psychologists from other universities who, it turned out, had been consultants to the lead industry. The accusation led to a misconduct investigation in 1992 at Pittsburgh. Needleman insisted it be public, with an open hearing. "I didn't trust the university and felt it was important that the scientific press and fellow faculty members see how this whole thing was constructed," he recalls. Needleman got his open hearings, cross-examined his accusers, and ultimately was cleared. "I believe there is more scientific misconduct than recognized,'' he comments, "but you have to recognize that [accusations] can be used to cynical ends." His case, he adds, "was a carefully crafted effort by the lead industry to damage [my] reputation.'' He says he spent more than half his time during two years consumed by the case. "I had no original ideas during that period.'' Two researchers working on multiple chemical sensitivity (MCS) were accused of misconduct by the director of an MCS patient group. They and colleagues had published research that "challenged the legitimacy of certain practitioners'' and certain diagnostic tests, says Gregory Simon of the Group Health Cooperative of Seattle and the University of Washington, one of the accused. "Most disturbing to me,'' he notes, is that "we were told by the university and ORI that we were not allowed to make any comments. But our accusers were under no such restraint.'' William Daniell, Simon's Washington colleague, says that when he and associates went to meetings, their accusers would sometimes hand out copies of the allegations against them. CATCH-22: Inquiries ending in exoneration generally are comprehensive and therefore lengthy and painful, notes C.K. Gunsalus of the University of Illinois. The inquiry into the charges lasted more than a year because the accusers appealed dismissed charges and added new charges, says Simon. That illustrates a sort of catch-22: An inquiry that finds evidence of wrongdoing can end quickly and proceed to the investigation phase, while an inquiry that finds nothing must be more thorough and last longer-and thus be more painful to the accused, notes C.K. Gunsalus, associate provost of the University of Illinois. When a misconduct inquiry or investigation ends in exoneration, there remains the important work of restoring the reputation of the accused. In many cases, the allegations have been publicized to a wider audience than the respondent or institutional officials would prefer. Sometimes, as in Plotkin's case, the allegations are the raw material of newspaper stories. Often, colleagues find out through the workings of the academic grapevine or because they are potential witnesses who must be questioned. Whistleblowers are supposed to maintain confidentiality, but may not, especially when they are not employed by the respondent's institution. PUTTING IT IN WRITING: UC-San Francisco administrator Karl Hittleman says many schools send a letter stating that the accused has been exonerated. If confidentiality has been maintained, cleared scientists often do not want their exoneration broadcast widely; misconduct officials say exonerated researchers typically want to put the whole thing behind them quickly and not alert people who did not already know. Karl Hittelman, associate vice chancellor for academic affairs at the University of California, San Francisco, describes a step that many universities take: "We make it a point of sending everyone involved a letter specifically stating that the individual has been exonerated.'' For many accused scientists, this gesture is too little, too late, especially if they perceive the process as too ready to presume them guilty. Some university officials acknowledge that procedures are set up to protect the whistleblower-who is often a junior scientist less powerful than the accused. Whistleblowers, however, appear to suffer even more than the accused from their acts. Says MIT's Litster: "I don't think anybody comes through this process without scars that stay with them the rest of their life.'' Billy Goodman, a freelance science writer based in Montclair, N.J., can be reached online at goodmanb@idt.net.

Scientists Exonerated By ORI Report Lingering Wounds

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