A federal civil rights lawsuit on behalf of a Saline County man alleging job discrimination by the Union Pacific Railroad entered its third day Wednesday in Little Rock with attorneys for Perry Hopman continuing the presentation of their case against the railroad.
Hopman, 45, of Benton, an Army veteran and a former flight medic, filed suit in federal court on Jan. 26, 2018, after officials with Union Pacific refused his requests in 2015 and 2017 that his service dog be allowed to accompany him to work at the North Little Rock rail yard where he is an engineer on overnight runs to Van Buren in Crawford County.
Hopman, a combat veteran, was diagnosed with post-traumatic stress disorder in 2008 after an 18-month tour of duty in Iraq and is a survivor of a traumatic brain injury that occurred during a 2010 deployment to Kosovo.
Much of the day Wednesday was punctuated by objections, skirmishes between opposing attorneys, and sparring between the attorneys and U.S. District Judge Kristine G. Baker -- the presiding judge over the trial -- regarding testimony that Torrriano Garland, an attorney for Union Pacific, argued the defense team had been blindsided with. But John Griffin Jr., representing Hopman, maintained that the testimony was acceptable under federal trial rules.
One flare-up came while Don Deckard, a Marine veteran and longtime Union Pacific employee, testified about his experiences with soldiers suffering from PTSD in the Marine Corps.
"This is sad, you have to think about the time when I went into the Marines," said Deckard. "The people, the elders, the higher-ranking officers and enlisted men were at one time privates, privates first class and lance corporals in Vietnam."
Many of those, he said, suffered from PTSD, which at that time was a condition of which there was little understanding. He told the story of a gunnery sergeant who developed a simple sighting system for tanks despite suffering from PTSD triggered by the sound of gunfire.
"We called him Shaky Jake," Deckard said, his voice thick with emotion. "We'd go to the field and when those main guns went off, he'd fall apart. We didn't know. We didn't know why he was that way. We didn't understand it."
Over Garland's objections, Griffin said Deckard's testimony would explain how his exposure to veterans from the Vietnam era suffering PTSD motivated him to try and help Hopman and that he would testify from this long experience with locomotives that Hopman's service dog could easily be accommodated in the cab.
Garland argued that the defense attorneys had not been notified of that line of testimony by the plaintiff's lawyers.
"They have had two years to depose this person," Griffin countered. "We do believe disclosure was sufficient ... and no UP challenge has been made until the middle of the trial."
Griffin, outlining Deckard's testimony, said the witness would testify that plenty of room existed in the cab of a locomotive to accommodate the dog.
"Has he worked with Mr. Hopman?" Garland asked.
"It hasn't been allowed," Griffin said.
"Then how is that not opinion?" Garland asked. "You should have disclosed it. It's not our burden to object to something we don't know is going to happen. It's trial by ambush."
Baker ruled that Deckard could testify as Griffin had outlined over Garland's objections.
"We have a fundamental disagreement on the issue of safety," she told Garland. "I'm the judge, and I have ruled."
On Wednesday afternoon, following Deckard's testimony, Hopman spent nearly 2½ hours on the stand describing for jurors his wartime experiences that led to his current disability and walking the eight women and three men on the jury through his five-year battle to convince Union Pacific officials that having his service dog, a 125-pound Rottweiler named Atlas, would not pose a danger to co-workers and would provide him with more stability during his work shifts.
As he related his experiences, all 11 jurors turned their chairs toward him and watched him intently, all eyes on Hopman.
"I was in my bed trying to catch a nap, and it was 127 degrees outside," he said. "The wind was blowing so hot it would almost burn your knuckles. We got the call, medivac, medivac, medivac, and without even thinking we started getting dressed."
The destination, he said, was a convoy that had hit an improvised explosive device, resulting in multiple casualties. Once there, he said, he scanned the perimeter and began to perform triage.
"Basically," he said, "you are deciding who is going to live and who is not."
Hopman described a scenario of moving quickly from one wounded soldier to the next, stopping bleeding, tending to wounds and deciding who had enough chance of survival that it wouldn't risk the lives of others to spend time and resources on saving them.
"That's a decision that I alone would make," he said, an anguished look on his face. "Thank God I don't have to see their families but I live with it every day."
He said he came upon a soldier with two legs and an arm blown off in the explosion.
"I never had anyone ask me to let them die. This one asked me," he said, quietly. "I told him, 'boss, you got the wrong medic for that.'"
A few years later, he said, he ran into the soldier at Walter Reed Hospital where he had been sent for treatment of his own injuries.
"I want to thank you for not doing what I asked you to do," Hopman said the soldier told him. "I got to meet his family, his wife and kids."
He told the story of a young Iraqi girl who was badly burned in an accident at her home, explaining that he would often be called upon to tend to civilians as part of his job.
"They decided to let their child fill the kerosene lamps," he said. "A child isn't very coordinated. My 12-year-old has a broken foot now."
Hopman said an explosion resulted, and the girl suffered third-degree burns over 90% of her body, the only thing saving her from dying immediately was that her face was not burned.
"I picked her up and ran to the helicopter and she was literally dripping through my fingers," he said. "I don't know if she survived. I dropped her off at Baghdadi ER and never heard anything else."
About Atlas, he said he could not explain all of the ways the dog helps him, but Atlas is able to keep him steady during flashbacks, warn him of approaching migraines, create a barrier between him and crowds of people, and keep him calm when anxiety threatens to overwhelm him.
"I don't know what it is," Hopman said. "He just helps. He makes Perry a better Perry."
Hopman's testimony resumes this morning at 8:30. His attorneys said they will conclude their case sometime early today, at which time Union Pacific's attorneys will present their defense. Linda Schoonmaker told Baker that the defense should conclude later in the day, making it likely the case will go to the jury by Friday.