Octavia
11-01-2007, 07:51 AM
A month after his death, he awaits burial
Thursday, November 01, 2007
BY WAYNE WOOLLEY
Star-Ledger Staff
Vincent Gibbs knew he'd be dead before the weather turned cold.
So the decorated Vietnam veteran from East Orange started putting his affairs in order this past summer, drafting a will that spelled out his wish to be buried in a small family cemetery in North Carolina.
Gibbs died of liver cancer on Oct. 2. But his body is still at the Cotton Funeral Home in Orange, racking up $50 a day in storage fees on top of about $6,000 his family says they owe for the coffin, embalming and memorial service.
The unusual drama is playing out because Gibbs never signed his will and no relative is able to step forward, creating a legal void. Simply put: no one can access two credit union accounts Gibbs left totaling about $15,000, including one at the U.S. Department of Veterans Affairs, where he worked, and the funeral home won't release his body until the bill is paid.
Yesterday, VA officials in Newark said the agency would try to negotiate the release of Gibbs' body, but couldn't guarantee success because his remains are in a private funeral home. Officials from the funeral home declined comment.
Until now, the task of wading through the bureaucratic morass to help Gibbs reach his final resting place has fallen to his ex-wife, Laronda Moore of Plainfield.
"I have never been bounced around so much in my life," Moore said this week. "All I want is to bury that poor man. That shouldn't be too much to ask."
Without a signed will, no one is automatically recognized as the executor of Gibbs' estate. Two of his closest blood relatives -- his 87-year-old mother and 14-year-old son -- can't be appointed to the position by a judge. His mother suffers from dementia, and his son is a minor.
That leaves Moore, who was married to Gibbs from 1992 until 1995 and who is raising their son, V. Diamond Gibbs. But a bankruptcy in Moore's past, the result, she says, of medical bills run up after her other son broke his arm, decimated her credit. The bad credit leaves Moore unable to obtain a surety bond, a prerequisite needed for a Surrogate Court judge to allow her to administer Gibbs' estate.
It's a nightmare scenario Freehold attorney Michael Detsky said he sees in cases where there is no will or when a will has become outdated.
"This is why people need a will, even if they don't have a lot of property," Detsky said.
Moore, 42, feels emotionally torn over the predicament. She's beyond frustrated. At the same time, she said she knows Gibbs did not mean to be a burden. "He had a huge heart," she said.
For example, Gibbs told Moore a few months ago he wanted their son to have his prized possession, a Mercury Mountaineer, and had written it into the unfinished will. A mutual friend dropped off the truck before Gibbs died. Now it's sitting outside Moore's apartment. She has no way to even learn if Gibbs finished paying it off.
Gibbs and Moore met in the early 1990s when both were studying electronics at Devry University. He was 42, she was 26. A sharp dresser, Gibbs caught Moore's eye. Although they were only married a short time, they remained close after they split up. "We were better as friends than as a married couple," Moore said.
One of Gibbs' proudest possessions was a thick stack of pictures that showed him and his mates from a 101st Airborne Division transportation unit in Vietnam. The photos captured everything from USO shows to patrols in the field to soldiers horsing around in the barracks. His discharge papers show he was awarded a Bronze Star for bravery in Vietnam.
Over the past few years, Gibbs' liver began to fail, complications he said stemmed from his exposure in Vietnam to the poisonous defoliant known as Agent Orange. VA officials said privacy rules prohibited them from confirming this, but said they were able to disclose that Gibbs received about $2,500 a month for a disability the agency deemed "service-related."
As Gibbs got sicker, he held out hope a transplant would save him, Moore said. But Gibbs later told Moore the doctors decided he was too sick to survive the operation. The final weeks of his life were spent shuttling between his home in East Orange and the VA hospital there, where he had worked in the copy room.
When Gibbs, who was 58, died at home, other relatives called the undertaker. Everyone soon discovered there was no way to access his bank accounts.
Moore says she's spent the better part of each day since on the phone trying to untangle the mess.
The VA hasn't been able to help so far, she said. Although Gibbs qualified for burial benefits, they amount to less than $1,000. As far as the money in his VA account, the agency says its credit union is covered by the same rules that govern other financial institutions: Gibbs' money only becomes available when someone becomes legally qualified to handle his estate.
Michael Blazis, the manager of the VA's Veterans Service Center in Newark, said his agency would have had more power to intervene if Gibbs were indigent.
Instead, the VA's best hope will be an attempt to reach a financial settlement with the funeral director. The agency may be able to offer enough to cover the funeral home's expenses, but likely would not be able to cover the full amount owed.
Still, the VA is willing to try.
"We'll make a call over there to see if the guy can be buried with some dignity," Blazis said.
Moore hopes so. Her son, she said, is having a difficult time understanding why his father hasn't been laid to rest.
So is she.
"Here we have a vet who has done all he could to serve this county," she said. "And we can't get him buried?"
Wayne Woolley may be reached at wwoolley@starledger.com or (972) 392-1559.
Thursday, November 01, 2007
BY WAYNE WOOLLEY
Star-Ledger Staff
Vincent Gibbs knew he'd be dead before the weather turned cold.
So the decorated Vietnam veteran from East Orange started putting his affairs in order this past summer, drafting a will that spelled out his wish to be buried in a small family cemetery in North Carolina.
Gibbs died of liver cancer on Oct. 2. But his body is still at the Cotton Funeral Home in Orange, racking up $50 a day in storage fees on top of about $6,000 his family says they owe for the coffin, embalming and memorial service.
The unusual drama is playing out because Gibbs never signed his will and no relative is able to step forward, creating a legal void. Simply put: no one can access two credit union accounts Gibbs left totaling about $15,000, including one at the U.S. Department of Veterans Affairs, where he worked, and the funeral home won't release his body until the bill is paid.
Yesterday, VA officials in Newark said the agency would try to negotiate the release of Gibbs' body, but couldn't guarantee success because his remains are in a private funeral home. Officials from the funeral home declined comment.
Until now, the task of wading through the bureaucratic morass to help Gibbs reach his final resting place has fallen to his ex-wife, Laronda Moore of Plainfield.
"I have never been bounced around so much in my life," Moore said this week. "All I want is to bury that poor man. That shouldn't be too much to ask."
Without a signed will, no one is automatically recognized as the executor of Gibbs' estate. Two of his closest blood relatives -- his 87-year-old mother and 14-year-old son -- can't be appointed to the position by a judge. His mother suffers from dementia, and his son is a minor.
That leaves Moore, who was married to Gibbs from 1992 until 1995 and who is raising their son, V. Diamond Gibbs. But a bankruptcy in Moore's past, the result, she says, of medical bills run up after her other son broke his arm, decimated her credit. The bad credit leaves Moore unable to obtain a surety bond, a prerequisite needed for a Surrogate Court judge to allow her to administer Gibbs' estate.
It's a nightmare scenario Freehold attorney Michael Detsky said he sees in cases where there is no will or when a will has become outdated.
"This is why people need a will, even if they don't have a lot of property," Detsky said.
Moore, 42, feels emotionally torn over the predicament. She's beyond frustrated. At the same time, she said she knows Gibbs did not mean to be a burden. "He had a huge heart," she said.
For example, Gibbs told Moore a few months ago he wanted their son to have his prized possession, a Mercury Mountaineer, and had written it into the unfinished will. A mutual friend dropped off the truck before Gibbs died. Now it's sitting outside Moore's apartment. She has no way to even learn if Gibbs finished paying it off.
Gibbs and Moore met in the early 1990s when both were studying electronics at Devry University. He was 42, she was 26. A sharp dresser, Gibbs caught Moore's eye. Although they were only married a short time, they remained close after they split up. "We were better as friends than as a married couple," Moore said.
One of Gibbs' proudest possessions was a thick stack of pictures that showed him and his mates from a 101st Airborne Division transportation unit in Vietnam. The photos captured everything from USO shows to patrols in the field to soldiers horsing around in the barracks. His discharge papers show he was awarded a Bronze Star for bravery in Vietnam.
Over the past few years, Gibbs' liver began to fail, complications he said stemmed from his exposure in Vietnam to the poisonous defoliant known as Agent Orange. VA officials said privacy rules prohibited them from confirming this, but said they were able to disclose that Gibbs received about $2,500 a month for a disability the agency deemed "service-related."
As Gibbs got sicker, he held out hope a transplant would save him, Moore said. But Gibbs later told Moore the doctors decided he was too sick to survive the operation. The final weeks of his life were spent shuttling between his home in East Orange and the VA hospital there, where he had worked in the copy room.
When Gibbs, who was 58, died at home, other relatives called the undertaker. Everyone soon discovered there was no way to access his bank accounts.
Moore says she's spent the better part of each day since on the phone trying to untangle the mess.
The VA hasn't been able to help so far, she said. Although Gibbs qualified for burial benefits, they amount to less than $1,000. As far as the money in his VA account, the agency says its credit union is covered by the same rules that govern other financial institutions: Gibbs' money only becomes available when someone becomes legally qualified to handle his estate.
Michael Blazis, the manager of the VA's Veterans Service Center in Newark, said his agency would have had more power to intervene if Gibbs were indigent.
Instead, the VA's best hope will be an attempt to reach a financial settlement with the funeral director. The agency may be able to offer enough to cover the funeral home's expenses, but likely would not be able to cover the full amount owed.
Still, the VA is willing to try.
"We'll make a call over there to see if the guy can be buried with some dignity," Blazis said.
Moore hopes so. Her son, she said, is having a difficult time understanding why his father hasn't been laid to rest.
So is she.
"Here we have a vet who has done all he could to serve this county," she said. "And we can't get him buried?"
Wayne Woolley may be reached at wwoolley@starledger.com or (972) 392-1559.