Trigger warning: Domestic violence and child sex trafficking.
Dearest Readers,
The whispers from the quaint yet increasingly chaotic hamlet of Eureka Springs grow louder, and this author finds herself compelled to once again illuminate the shadows that cling to our now infamous hospital. It appears the Hospital Commission, in their infinite wisdom (or perhaps willful blindness?), deemed a certain missive too sensitive for their delicate ears at their St. Patrick’s Day meeting, citing the sacrosanct nature of “personnel information.” How utterly curious, for the contents of said letter, much like the town gossip after a particularly potent batch of spiked sweet tea, are readily available for any curious soul with access to the ubiquitous online ether or the fortitude to navigate the bureaucratic maze of a FOIA request.
Indeed, this intrepid correspondent, whose tenacity rivals a badger defending its sett, sought to bring forth a matter most unsettling. It concerns the curious case of Ms. Darlina Maree Jasso, a former employee within the hospital’s medical records department. You may recall, dear readers, our previous dispatch regarding Ms. Jasso’s sisterly ties to the now-familiar name of Ms. Cynthia Maree Reagan Asbury. It appears the tendrils of this particular family drama extend further into the mire than even this seasoned observer had initially surmised.
For it has come to light, with the undeniable clarity of a thunderclap on a summer’s day, that Ms. Jasso was apprehended by none other than the Federal Bureau of Investigation within the very walls of our hospital. The charges? A transgression so vile it curdles the very blood: the sex trafficking of a minor. And the subsequent judgment? A decade of prison without the possibility of parole. One shudders to think of the implications, a predator lurking amidst the sensitive records of our community, privy to the most vulnerable details of our lives, including those of our children.
But the tapestry of this tale grows even more threadbare upon closer inspection. It seems Ms. Jasso’s past is less a pristine linen and more a patchwork of concerning incidents. Records of adult abuse and protection orders paint a portrait far removed from the picture of a trustworthy custodian of private information. These details, mind you, are not buried in some forgotten archive but readily unearthed with a few taps on a keyboard.
And yet, she was granted access. Access to confidential medical histories, birthdates, addresses, insurance intricacies and even social security numbers. With a raised eyebrow and a considerable degree of alarm, one must ask why the vetting process, absent a criminal background check, was deemed sufficient. Was the lure of familial connection, that most potent of persuasions, so blinding that due diligence was cast aside like yesterday’s news? Did Ms. Jodi Edmondson, in her capacity as HR Director, simply fail in her duty, or was there a more deliberate oversight at play, perhaps enabled by the very Commission now so reticent to acknowledge these glaring errors?
Furthermore, appointing an acting Chief Executive Officer whose qualifications appear to culminate in a high school diploma raises further disquiet. In a nation sparse of rural hospitals, the revelation that only a solitary institution shares this particular leadership profile is… telling. Does this not suggest a certain lack of rigor in the selection process, a potential prioritization of expediency over expertise?
And now, dear readers, we arrive at another detail that has been conveniently sidestepped. While a state audit of past spending may offer a broad overview, it is akin to admiring a grand estate from a distant hilltop. It reveals the general shape but conceals the damp rot in the foundations and the pilfering within the pantry. What might be unearthed if a truly independent forensic audit were to delve into the financial intricacies of this institution’s present state? Given the considerable expenditure on temporary staff, a practice that often raises eyebrows in financial circles, the publicly documented financial history of the CFO presents a further challenge to establishing public trust in a person managing the financial oversight of millions of dollars. This makes one suspect that a more thorough examination of the ledgers might reveal a far more intricate and potentially troubling narrative than reported.
The Commission may cling to the notion of “innocent until proven guilty” regarding ongoing legal matters, a principle this author certainly respects. However, their steadfast refusal to address these publicly available concerns and their unwavering support of the current administration despite the glaringly obvious lapses in judgment speak volumes. It suggests a level of entrenchment that borders on the obstinate, a doubling down that begs the question: What are they so determined to hide?
The community of Eureka Springs deserves more than dismissive pronouncements and carefully curated narratives. They deserve transparency, accountability and the assurance that the hospital, an institution meant to safeguard health and well-being, is not riddled with vulnerabilities or overseen by those who prioritize personal connections over the safety and security of the town.
As we continue to peel back the layers of this increasingly pungent onion, one cannot help but wonder what other unsavory truths lie beneath. Rest assured, dear readers, we shall continue to observe, to listen and to report. The story of the Eureka Springs Hospital is not yet over, and this author suspects the most revelatory pages are yet to be written.
— Yours in unwavering scrutiny,
Heather Wilson
