Did Someone Fail a Dying Man?

James Leon Waters worked in Seattle for most of his adult life, but he was born and raised in Washington, D.C. He was a product of District public schools, graduating from Anacostia Senior High School, which taught him the shop skills that helped him land jobs as a printing operations specialist with The Post and two other local companies. Eventually, however, he was lured west to Seattle, where he worked for the city until he retired early last year.

Waters returned to Washington in July with his wife, Gail, to visit his family. As he was leaving his mother's house, he gave her a kiss on the cheek and told her, "I'll see you tomorrow." She never heard his voice again. The date was July 26, 2005.

What happened that evening will help explain why the D.C. Fire and Emergency Medical Services Department continues to appear as Topic A in this space.

Shortly after James Waters rejoined Gail in their room at the Renaissance hotel at 999 Ninth St. NW, he started feeling chest pains. He took an antacid but then collapsed. The record shows that his wife called 911 at 9:32 p.m. Thirty minutes later, he arrived at George Washington University Hospital's emergency room. At 10:53 p.m., James Waters was pronounced dead.

The events that unfolded between the 911 call for help and Waters's arrival at GW's emergency room are the subject of a complaint and claims against the District government filed by a Seattle law firm representing Gail Waters on behalf of her husband and "others similarly situated." In a Jan. 18 letter to Mayor Anthony Williams and D.C. Attorney General Robert J. Spagnoletti, the firm's lawyers, Michael D. Helgren and Leslie J. Hagin, charged that James Waters died as a result of the failures and utter indifference of D.C. fire department personnel -- "which are part of a pattern and practice of deliberate indifference to the well-known risks and failings by the District and its relevant decision makers, relative to training, supervision, and other aspects of the District's Fire Department/Emergency Medical Services (EMS) system."

To no one's surprise, D.C. Fire/EMS has battened down the hatches and assumed a protective crouch. In response to my query, Fire/EMS spokesman Alan Etter wrote yesterday: "Because this case is the subject of litigation, we are not permitted to make any comment at this time."

What is known about James Waters's final hours comes by way of reports pried out of D.C. Fire/EMS, courtesy of a Freedom of Information Act request filed by Hagin. Here is what's been pieced together -- based on the heavily redacted D.C. Fire/EMS reports:

9:32 p.m. -- 911 received a call from the Renaissance hotel "asking for ambulance."

9:33 p.m. -- Engine 16 and Ambulance 16 were dispatched to the hotel.

But en route, Engine 16, carrying a technician, two firefighters and a lieutenant, changed direction and went to another location to investigate smoke coming from a building. They assessed the source of the smoke, determined it was not a life-safety issue, found out that other units were already responding, got back in their vehicle and proceeded to the hotel.

After arriving about 9:38 p.m., however, Engine 16 immediately left the scene without assessing Waters's condition and went back to the non-life-threatening fire, leaving Ambulance 16 to carry on at the hotel alone. In special after-action reports to their superiors, Engine 16 members said Ambulance 16's two firefighters told them they could handle the call by themselves.

It turns out that Ambulance 16's firefighters were in over their heads.