Tarburton is now working in private security. It puts food on the table, but the pay and benefits are far less than he received on the police force. He'd like to return to law enforcement - at least long enough to qualify for a pension. He says his whistle-blowing days are over. But at every police agency where he applies for a job, the answer is the same: No. He's come to the conclusion that he's been blacklisted.
Recently his mother, whom he supports, noticed an article about several pardons granted by Gov. Martin O'Malley. Beatrice Tarburton wondered why offenders could get a break but her son could not.
"He did not break any laws. In fact he kept the law, became a whistle-blower and if the truth was told, he most likely even saved lives," she wrote. "When did we start rewarding people breaking the law and punishing the people who keep and protect the law?"
Unlike Mrs. Tarburton, I see no reason to question the governor's use of the pardon power. It's there for a reason. But her point about her son is well taken. Why can't there be a measure of forgiveness for a man who went out on a limb to protect his fellow Marylanders?
The years after Tarburton spoke out brought a dramatic improvement in port security. In its most recent assessment, the Coast Guard described the measures taken to protect Maryland's marine terminals as "near perfect." In January, O'Malley held a news conference in which he praised the improvements and characterized the former state of affairs as a "Mickey Mouse operation with sleeping guards and wooden decoy cameras."
As my colleague Dan Rodricks has pointed out several times, the governor is in a position now where he could help the man who helped put the port on a safer footing. But so far he's done nothing.
Maybe George Tarburton can't go back to his old job. Maybe there are too many high-level people in the transportation police who feel they can't work with him. But the governor could at least direct that Tarburton not be blackballed when he seeks work in other police agencies. Think of it as a professional pardon for a cop who's shown he'd take a bullet to protect those he's sworn to protect.
In a sense, he already has.
