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Melanie Casebolt's far-right political ideology isn't likely to stir sympathy among left-leaning Portlanders, but a recent federal court ruling--relegating her beliefs to second place, behind government regulations--is an ominous season's greeting. Earlier this month, U.S. District Court Judge Robert E. Jones ruled against Casebolt in her wrongful-termination suit. Casebolt claimed she lost her nursing job at Prestige Care Inc., a Portland foster-care business, because of her religious beliefs. Casebolt believes, based on her reading of the Bible's Book of Revelation, that Social Security numbers are "the mark of the beast." She refused to provide her number to Prestige and was terminated. Before you laugh off this 40-year-old suburban mom, consider that the federal government shuts down this week to honor the alleged birth--to a virgin mother--of the son of God (a story that is also found in the Bible). Casebolt has honored her odd belief for nearly 20 years. Although it's been confusing to her employers, it didn't prevent her from holding down two long-term nursing jobs in California. In the job application boxes requesting her nine-digit number, she simply wrote "religious objector." Social Security numbers are necessary for the IRS to identify employees for the purpose of processing tax returns. The numbers also identify employees' Social Security accounts so they can collect when they retire. Casebolt accepted the fact that she would lose her tax withholdings and access to her Social Security fund. Casebolt, who grew up in Portland, returned to the area in 1995. She got a job with Prestige, but was let go after three weeks because she failed to provide a Social Security number. Prestige denies the charge of discrimination saying it simply couldn't process Casebolt's pay without a Social Security card and that the company would be in violation of federal law had it kept her on staff. After losing her job at Prestige, Casebolt returned to her previous job with Covenant Care in Ventura, Calif. She had worked at Covenant without a Social Security card for three years. But Covenant fired her shortly after she returned when, Casebolt says, Prestige called the California company about the situation. Casebolt currently has a federal suit against Covenant pending in California federal court. She says she is currently working at a foster-care home in the Portland area that has agreed to let her work without a Social Security number. Mike Fetzer, a spokesman at the regional EEOC office in Seattle, says his nine-state region gets about three complaints like this a year. "Usually we tell them they don't have a case," Fetzer says, "because they're talking about a political belief, not a religious belief." Casebolt, however, says the proof of her convictions is found in the Book of Revelation, Chapter 13, Verse 17. Sitting in the deli section at the Hillsboro Safeway on 185th Street with her husband, Richard Chapel, she brings out a well-worn copy of the Bible, marked up with black ballpoint pen and colored highlighter. Casebolt points to the line that predicts world doom: "And that no man might buy or sell, save he that had the mark, or the name of the beast, or the number of his name." This is her evidence that Social Security numbers are the federal government's tool to usurp power from God. "The bugs will descend on people who carry Social Security cards," Casebolt says. Casebolt's rejection of Social Security cards is connected to a convoluted political theory that involves the Federal Reserve ("public enemy No. 1") and FDR. Casebolt, a tall, stiff woman in glasses who wears her long red coat like a security blanket, believes the U.S. government is at war with its citizenry. She says that the Oklahoma City bombing and the assault on David Koresh in Waco, Texas, were part of the government's conspiracy against the people. Casebolt says she stopped using her Social Security number after marrying Chapel in 1980. Chapel, a trim and sturdy 50-year-old Vietnam veteran, dominated the conversation, often correcting his wife and answering questions addressed to her. When Casebolt did answer questions, she spoke in monotone sound bites that sounded eerily memorized. "The media doesn't want you to know the real story," she repeated when pressed to give examples of media cover-ups. Her husband, however, was not at a loss for words or examples. Chapel jumped amiably between quotes from law books, the Bible and the Constitution to make his point that an oppressive political ideology was stacking the deck against people who simply wanted to maintain their relationships with God. Chapel defined himself as a "soldier of Christ" and said he and Casebolt were the "cleanest people imaginable," maintaining a connection with God by avoiding compromising relationships with the government. (That includes education. He and his wife send their 14-year-old daughter, Natalie, to a Seventh Day Adventist school.) Chapel's mix of ideas is similar to the teachings of the Christian Identity movement, which social commentators link to the radical anti-government groups that came onto the nation's radar screen in 1995 after the Oklahoma City bombing. Chapel adamantly denies connections to any organized group or movement. In her testimony, Casebolt told Prestige's attorney, Rebecca Dean, "My religion doesn't have a name, and I don't know of any other members." On this point, Casebolt is uncharacteristically opinionated and articulate. "People just want to put you in a box and say this is what you believe in," she says. "Well, we won't let them do that." In some ways, Casebolt has forced the courts into a box. In appealing Jones' decision, Casebolt uses the 1964 Civil Rights Act to pose an intriguing question: Is upholding the government's interest in assigning Social Security numbers more important than protecting Casebolt's religious freedom? Given that Casebolt's beliefs aren't harmful to those around her and that she is paying taxes and Social Security, her argument shouldn't be dismissed as conspiratorial harping from the extremist right. |
