As terrorist fears and anthrax scares prompt commercial and government landlords to bolster security, regulatory loopholes have allowed thousands of people with criminal backgrounds to work as private guards in Illinois.
Until now, attention has focused on the push to improve airport security after terrorists exploited its weaknesses. But state records and interviews with security firms and guards underscore another problem.
Regulatory lapses, loopholes and budget constraints have contributed to often-fleeting oversight of the 1.1 million private security officers who protect the nation’s office buildings, hospitals, government facilities and malls. About 49,000 people are licensed to be security officers in Illinois.
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Illinois’ rules detailing qualifications and training required of security firms and guards are among the nation’s most stringent, industry executives say. Yet the state allows applicants for guard licenses to begin work before their backgrounds are vetted by regulators.
That means many with checkered pasts are on the job for weeks, months and even years before they are caught by the Department of Professional Regulation, the agency that polices security guards. In a two-year period ending June 30, the department rejected 4,200 licenses for applicants. Most had criminal histories, officials said.
“They can work until we find there’s a problem. That’s not ideal by any means,” said Department of Professional Regulation Director Leonard Sherman, whose office is drafting legislation to close the loophole.
Nevertheless, the department says it has discretion to grant licenses to ex-cons, and often does so even if the applicants were found to have concealed their records. Now, 424 people, most with convictions from shoplifting to manslaughter, hold probationary permits allowing them to work in private security jobs.
One is Felix Fabre, 39, an unarmed guard at a West Side sausage factory who was convicted of armed robbery and aggravated battery in 1981.
Fabre didn’t disclose the conviction as required when he applied for his security guard license last year.
“I figured they wouldn’t go that far back,” said Fabre, who was among dozens of people granted licenses this year despite criminal pasts.
Experts point to flaws
The system’s weaknesses have been illustrated recently as businesses struggle to reassess security. Training guards to identify threats such as anthrax won’t be easy, industry executives say.
“What you don’t know might hurt you,” said James McNulty, executive vice president of Securitas AB, a Swedish company that acquired American security giants Pinkerton and Burns. “How do you train them what to look for? That takes time.”
Illinois’ problems illustrate how the private guard industry suffers from many of the same troubles that have hurt the aviation guard industry, which is regulated by the federal government.
– The quality of service provided by the nation’s estimated 10,000 security companies varies widely, as does the degree to which states police them. At least 10 states, including Missouri and Colorado, have no standards for security firms and guards. Only 22 states, including Illinois, require both a federal and state background check, and some of those mandate such checks only for armed guards.
– Training also varies, according to the National Association of Security Companies. Illinois requires 20 hours of training for unarmed guards, 40 for armed guards. Florida requires 40 hours of training for unarmed guards. Tennessee and Washington require just 4 hours.
– Pay is low and turnover is high, undermining the ability to maintain a professional workforce. Annual turnover rates in the private building security industry run as high as 200 percent, and the median salary for guards is less than $10 an hour, experts said. In Chicago, median pay for guards is $8 an hour, but less if they’re working at retail outlets, construction sites or small buildings.
– Competitive bidding for security contracts at some government facilities leaves them guarded by people earning minimum wage. Some work other jobs to make ends meet. “It might mean higher turnover. It might mean people falling asleep on their tasks or just not giving a damn and letting standards slip,” said Robert McCrie, a professor of security management at John Jay College of Criminal Justice in New York City.
– In Illinois, the advisory board that recommends penalties to the Department of Professional Regulation is dominated by the security industry. In one case launched by regulators in 1997 but still pending, A&R Security Services Inc. of Blue Island is accused of hiring hundreds of unqualified guards. Enforcement of penalties has been delayed partly because the company is owned by a former chairman of the advisory board.
– Holders of private security contractor licenses–which are harder to obtain than a guard’s license–can “rent” that license to others who want to start security companies but haven’t qualified for a contractor’s license. In these cases, the license holder has only nominal control over the affiliated firm but assumes liability for violations.
The Sept. 11 attacks prompted many U.S. companies to dramatically increase the number of security officers at their buildings. And some property managers are asking guards to do more, from spotting bioterrorism threats to patrolling parking garages.
“Demand has been tremendous in our organization and throughout Illinois and throughout the country because people are afraid,” said David Bergsma, president of Levy Security Corp. in Chicago. “People realize that we’ve been caught off-guard, and we need to protect those that we are responsible to protect.”
Legislating change difficult
Although some security agencies allow ex-convicts to work as guards, other firms avoid hiring them. Executives at such firms have pushed to set uniform standards and hope the terrorist attacks provide lawmakers with political will.
“We really believe if there ever was a time to improve the standards and have minimum requirements to do business, this is it. And shame on this industry if they don’t,” McNulty said. “The industry has been full of abuse for years. That’s why there are 10,000 companies. You don’t need a whole lot to start a security company.”
Lawmakers in Washington and Springfield are pushing to toughen regulation.
State Sen. George Shadid, a Democrat and former Peoria County sheriff, called for automatic disqualification from holding security-related licenses for people convicted of serious felonies.
State Rep. Angelo “Skip” Saviano (R-Elmwood Park), who is chairman of the House committee that oversees the Department of Professional Regulation, said he would push to make it illegal to do security guard work until a background check is done and a license issued.
“We’re going to have to up the ante on qualifications and also the monitoring of the individuals,” Saviano said. “These firms are going to be somewhat desperate to go out and recruit potential guards to satisfy increased demand.”
Sherman said his agency is drafting legislation to bar it from issuing guard licenses before state police and the FBI complete background checks, a process that electronic fingerprint scanning has accelerated.
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“We’re in favor of having the protection of doing the check first,” he said.
In deciding whether applicants with criminal histories can get security guard licenses, regulators must consider how long ago the offense occurred and what it involved.
Many people are turned down for permits when they don’t show up for hearings to explain a criminal past or don’t disclose it on an application. But several guards interviewed by the Tribune were licensed after telling the state they had lied.
Fabre, who was granted a probationary license in March, argued that allowing individuals to recover from past mistakes is part of the American way.
“America is the land of opportunity,” he said. “Now, we’re giving up freedom. We’re falling into a trap. Now [the terrorists] are altering America.”
Lashunda Griffin worked as a guard for three years before the state took her license because she didn’t disclose a 1990 conviction for selling PCP.
The 29-year-old mother of four said she got off public aid as part of the nation’s welfare reform effort and earned $8.50 an hour as an unarmed security guard. She didn’t mention the conviction on her original application because her probation officer told her that her record was clear after seven years.
After a talk with the Department of Professional Regulation in August, Griffin was given three years’ probation and freed to get another security job.
“I’m fixing to try but I told them I’m not going downtown because I’m very scared,” Griffin said. “I’m not jeopardizing my life for nobody. I’ve got four kids. . . . We’re making chump change.”