Killing Keiko (10 page)

Excerpts from e-mail: May 2, 1999

Dave, Robin and I talked constantly. A tsunami of information and analytics were coursing
through our minds each day. This relentless interaction never produced any abrupt
revelations; rather, theories developed slowly as we reflected on the interaction
of various applications, their intended results, the effects of unintended results
and solutions for same … it was a necessary process that had no end.

The plan had to consider the incidental, accidental and indirect reinforcements that
may occur in the process of shaping behavior. The reintroduction plan had to be highly
sophisticated and involve myriad “what if” and “if-then” calculations. Beyond framing
a comprehensive and plausible behavioral strategy for Keiko’s release, we had the
difficult task of explaining what that plan meant (translating it in layman’s terms),
and why it was at the heart of any chance of success for Keiko. At least at this early
stage, understanding each step to be taken was a vital piece of the puzzle needed
to foster the staff’s dedication. Consistency in executing the plan would be paramount.
How effectively we implemented each step depended entirely on the staff’s grasp of
each calculated measure as we slowly introduced change in Keiko’s world.

Throughout the project, explaining the plan along with supporting theory behind it
was an uphill battle. At that time, the managers in charge of the project did not
believe that any reshaping or modification of Keiko’s learning history was necessary.
They believed that nature would take its course if they simply got him to Iceland.
Yet after five months in Iceland, it was clear to even the most stubborn observer
that Keiko was not making any notable
progress. Other than watching almost every passing boat, Keiko was showing no overt
signs of interest in the world outside of his bay pen. Thus far, and in the short
term, this was the only aspect working in our favor.

Our interactions with all the existing staff were very positive up to that point.
But then we were all reasonable and likeable people, them and us included. We were
in the honeymoon stage of our tentative and new union; of course everything felt right.
Nonetheless, our involvement in the project was not a given. Our challenge now was
to determine how, formally, we would be involved. OFS had no intention of hiring a
subcontractor beneath them; they were already a subcontractor of sorts to the FWKF
themselves. On our side of the proverbial negotiating table, we were equally as stubborn
and had no intention of splitting up our company to become employees of OFS. Perhaps
it was some measure of pride, but it was also a commitment to the goals we had set
as a new organization with what we believed to be a cutting-edge philosophy. The prospect
of abandoning our company in exchange for employment within the rank-and-file radical
organizations was almost too much to stomach. Charles Vinick arrived on Monday, and
we met that evening over dinner.

E-mail: May 3, 1999

I liked Charles from the moment I met him. A true gentleman in his early fifties,
Charles’ well-groomed salt-and-pepper beard and neck-length hair of similar spice
fit his demeanor. Longer hair and a beard seemed to be the trademark style among the
project’s outdoorsy masculine leadership; yet Charles, departing from the seeming
uniform persona, took on a more professorial air. His well-practiced, calm and collected
stature produced a very businesslike impression. It seemed clear that this presentation
was active and deliberate from the also apparent pride with which he carried himself.
A smaller man, his dark complexion and sunken cheeks completed a very serious-minded
appearance aptly fit for a board room. Nonetheless, Charles transitioned well into
the fieldgarb typical on a project of this nature.

Charles was well spoken with an authoritative command of the English language. He
was adept at clearly explaining himself and his objectives. This made negotiating
much easier than it otherwise might have been. Despite the fact that he tenaciously
held his own and refused to back down, I respected Charles for the way he treated
our position at a difficult time. What could have been a very contentious exchange
was maintained at a mutually respectful level. Charles never directly insulted our
principles or our drive to protect our own company goals. If he had, the outcome might
have been very different. In spite of these productive exchanges with Charles early
on, there were other variables that muddied the waters and sidetracked negotiations.

The night of May 4, 1999, Robin and I were to meet with Charles a final time in hopes
that we could come to an agreement. Early that afternoon, long before the scheduled
dinner meeting, a Web posting made its way through the ranks of the FWKF board, eventually
plaguing Charles with questions and doubts about bringing Robin and me onboard. A
long time anticaptivity activist and vigorous proponent for the release of Lolita
(a killer whale living at Miami Seaquarium), Howard Garrett had published the claim
that Sea-World trainers were in Iceland intent on sabotaging the release effort. In
his posting he alleged that Robin and I were agents only interested in the project
to secure Keiko for the zoological community. Failing in his first attempt, he went
on to insinuate that any success would be credited to SeaWorld via our participation.

As outrageous and ill-advised as the assertion was, it nonetheless resulted in numerous
phone calls from various members of the board fearing Garrett’s on-line nonsense might
be true. Robin had relayed the information while I was still on the bay pen that afternoon.
Though I was not surprised by the elementary tactics Garrett used, the reactions of
the board brought into question whether anyone involved actually cared about the animal
near as much as they cared for their own credentials.

At dinner that evening the SeaWorld association and Howard Garrett’s conspiracy theory
certainly hindered the more pressing and immediate aspects of our discussion; however,
being the levelheaded man that he was, Charles did not let it delay progress for long.
He knew the Howard Garrett claim was a cheap shot from the radical sidelines. After
some relatively minor deliberation on the subject, he dismissed the notion and left
it with, “I’ll handle this with the board. Let’s move on.” Ironically, this was the
beginning of what would become Charles’ constant burden over the next sixteen months
of our involvement.

I was hopelessly committed to making this work, even if I didn’t know it then. The
issue of becoming an employee of OFS plagued me more than it should have. The ease
at which Garrett introduced turmoil among the more imaginative FWKF board members,
could not be underestimated. It reminded me of the organizational challenges lurking
in the shadows that only complicated the very real trials facing Keiko. I had now
spent the better part of three days away from Keiko and neck-deep in consternation.
Finally, my wife, who represents the better half of my judgment, spelled it out for
me.

E-mail: May 5, 1999

At times I believe that we men are in a constant state of self-destruction and that
the only thing preventing us from sinking into oblivion is the right woman. My wingman
or “wingwoman” had helped me turn a difficult corner. She was right; I wanted to be
on this project and turning it down because they wouldn’t hire our company would have
left me with haunting regrets. This project wasn’t going to last forever, and I could
return to our company and its goals in the future.

That morning, Dave and I had gone to the bay pen to distance ourselves from the meetings
and hopefully gain a fresh perspective. This is where I received the e-mail from Alyssa
and after reading it, it was as if a demon had been exorcised from my psyche.

During that afternoon, Robin met with Charles as Dave and I were headed in from the
bay pen. Famous for his skill at diplomacy, Robin was able to endear himself to Charles,
and together they framed a sound understanding for our participation in the project.
Among other agreements reached, Robin accepted the position as an OFS employee. He
would be the new Keiko Release Project Manager alongside Jeff Foster. He also paved
the way for my inclusion as the director of Animal Husbandry. This meant that I would
be solely dedicated to Keiko and answer only to Robin and Jeff. Monumental change
had to occur with this project and the way Keiko was being managed.

This structure allayed my final trepidations about becoming an OFS employee. That
night I shared the outcome with Alyssa, to whom I owed my very involvement. The struggle
and compromise behind us and with a singular focus now unbridled from lesser things,
I was ready to put my full attention into every aspect of Keiko’s rehabilitation.

E-mail: May 6, 1999