More than $12 million in donations remains 17 years after the attack.

OKLAHOMA CITY - Nearly 18 years after a bomb ripped apart a federal building in Oklahoma City, more than $12 million in donated funds remains and survivors say the foundation in charge of most of it has denied requests for surgery, tuition and other needs donors intended to be funded.

Deloris Watson has cared for her grandson P.J. Allen since his lungs were nearly destroyed by the blast April 19, 1995. At 18 months, P.J. was the youngest survivor of the America's Kids day care center, where 15 children died.

P.J.'s injuries left him with a tracheotomy - a tube placed in the neck to provide a direct airway - which doctors said could be removed at age 10. Watson said she learned the surgery has a high failure rate, and she found a specialist in Ohio with a good record of success.

Watson said she asked the Oklahoma City Community Foundation, which controls $10 million of the remaining funds, to help pay for travel and medical expenses.

"They told me he had to have five failed surgeries in the state of Oklahoma before they would pay for him to go out of state. That's ridiculous," she said.

Watson said she received help from the American Red Cross and Ronald McDonald House in Cincinnati, where she stayed for a year while her grandson learned to swallow, eat and drink again.

She said she is concerned the fund will deny future requests and that other bombing survivors are afraid to speak out because they are at the mercy of the foundation.

"P.J. someday may need a lung transplant. It let me know I certainly can't depend on the bombing fund if he does. I am fighting for P.J. I don't want him to have to fight."

Allen is now 19 and attends Oklahoma State University. Watson said the fund has paid for some of her grandson's college tuition and living expenses, but she has had to fight to get those expenses covered. One semester, Watson was told "the books were closed," and she had to pay thousands of dollars herself, she said.

Timothy Hearn, who lost his mother in the bombing, said the foundation recently denied his request to attend a trade school because he was "too old." Hearn, 45, said no age restrictions were discussed when state officials promised after the bombing to pay education costs for those who lost parents.

Nancy Anthony, president of the Oklahoma City Community Foundation, said the foundation provides thorough oversight of the funds. Because of its sound investment, the foundation has been able to stretch initial donations for many years, Anthony said.

A board of five trustees with historical knowledge of the bombing reviews all policies and financial reports, she said. Additionally, all of the community foundation's funds are audited annually, and the bombing fund was audited by the IRS in 1998, she said.

Anthony said she's unable to address specific cases due to the need for confidentiality. Any survivors who feel they were improperly denied payment can write a letter appealing those decisions to the fund's board of trustees, she said.

"We are still providing service and would be happy to work with anyone who feels that they should receive services," Anthony said.

Donations pour in

After Timothy McVeigh parked a rental truck packed with fuel-soaked fertilizer in front of the Alfred P. Murrah Federal Building on April 19, 1995, 168 people were killed and 850 were injured in the ensuing explosion.

More than $40 million in donations poured in to local and national charities. Of that, $14.6 million was consolidated under the control of the Oklahoma City Community Foundation.

The foundation is an umbrella organization established in 1969 that administers more than 1,200 nonprofit funds with combined assets of more than $632 million.

Records show $10.4 million remained in the foundation's Oklahoma City Disaster Relief Fund as of June 30, 2011, the latest year records are available.

Some bombing survivors contacted by the Tulsa World said they had no idea funds remained and were never contacted by the foundation to determine whether they had unmet needs. The fund isn't included on a list of funds on the community foundation's website.

"I was not aware there was any fund like this," said Beverly Rankin, who was injured in the bombing, in an email. "I doubt that I am the only one who knew nothing about it."

Anthony said there was an active outreach by the foundation for several years following the bombing.

Other survivors say they were treated rudely by foundation staff. Statements by Anthony in the media have also rankled some.

In a 2001 New York Times article, Anthony was quoted as saying: "There's a culture of victimhood, made up of people whose identity as Victim of the Oklahoma City Bombing gave them importance and visibility they'd never had before."

In 2005, Anthony told the Chicago Tribune: "The perception of people, unfortunately, is that you need to give people money and that money will make them feel better. Well, it probably does make them feel better. But heroin makes them feel better for a short time, too."

Anthony told the World: "There are no happily-ever-after stories here. ... We knew that lots of times they were angry at us just because they were going through that anger process."

She said the foundation provides services to help survivors recover, rather than direct payment, which can jeopardize a nonprofit organization's status. She said the Red Cross and other organizations also received funds after the bombing and operate in a similar fashion.

The American Red Cross of Central Oklahoma received about $16 million in donations to help bombing survivors and currently has $2 million remaining, said Janienne Bella, Red Cross regional chief executive officer. She said when funds run out, the Red Cross will continue helping survivors to the best of its ability.

'Significant earnings' generated

Anthony said about $10 million remains in the community foundation's bombing fund, with about half designated for education and the remainder for "long-term medical, mental health and case management."

"We have spent approximately $11 million on assistance and contributions to the memorial. We have generated significant earnings over the 17-year period. These earnings have been allocated to areas where we felt that the long-term need was most significant," Anthony said.

Foundation records show $4.4 million of the bombing fund was reallocated by the foundation in 2005.

Records show the foundation spent $2 million of that on a "community infrastructure fund," $1.5 million on the Oklahoma City National Memorial, and $500,000 on "long-term studies" that Anthony said have not yet been done. The foundation also donated $400,000 of the $4.4 million to other disaster relief, including when tornadoes struck Joplin, Mo., and Alabama in 2011, she said.

Anthony said the foundation was able to set aside those funds because it earned more than expected on the invested donations. The community infrastructure funds went toward preparing Oklahoma City for future disasters, while the funds for the memorial were earmarked by donors specifically for the memorial, she said.

"When we got to the 10th anniversary and saw this big hunk of money, we sort of looked at the other issues," she said.

Meanwhile, Watson and other survivors interviewed by the World said the fund refused to pay for services clearly connected to the bombing.

Laverne McCloud, whose daughter, Nekia, was 4 when the bombing occurred, said: "I feel that the money is out there, but I feel like they just don't want you to have access to it."

McCloud, 50, said the bombing fund helped her initially with Nekia's medical bills and living expenses. Nekia suffered a severe head injury in the building's day-care center.

But when McCloud returned to work at a secretarial job, officials in charge of the bombing fund told her to apply for SoonerCare, McCloud said. She said the foundation also refused to allow Nekia to be treated by the doctor of her choice.

McCloud said she gave up trying to get the fund to pay for Nekia's ongoing expenses, which are considerable, about 10 years ago. She said taxpayers shouldn't have to foot the bill for her daughter's medical care - SoonerCare is funded by Medicaid dollars - when millions of dollars remain in the fund.

"They want you to get to the point where you just say, 'Forget it.' I just got fed up to the point where I just stopped asking," she said.

Anthony said that in order to stretch the donations as far as possible, survivors are expected to seek other sources of payment before requesting funds.

"If we didn't care about these people we wouldn't still be here," she said.

'We can't help you'

After the bombing, then-Gov. Frank Keating and other officials said donated funds would pay for higher education for all who lost one or both parents in the tragedy. Thirty children were orphaned, and 219 lost at least one parent, according to the Oklahoma City National Memorial's website.

The foundation's website states that as of 2010, 158 students had attended one or more semesters of post-secondary education and 87 had earned one or more degrees. The site does not state how much of the cost was paid for by the community foundation's fund.

Gloria Chipman, whose husband, Robert, died in the bombing, said the community foundation approved funds for her son to attend the University of Oklahoma. But when her daughter requested funds, foundation officials asked about her grades from previous semesters.

"They told her, 'Your brother's grades are straight A's and yours are C's. We can't help you,' " Chipman said.

She said her daughter borrowed money for her tuition, which she is still repaying.

Chipman maintains a loose network of bombing survivors and said many are unaware funds remain to help them.

"I had a man call me today. He needs hearing aids, and he knew nothing of this. Our financial needs go on for the future. It didn't stop," Chipman said.

Hearn's mother, Castine Brooks Hearn Deveroux, died in the bombing. Hearn said that after his mother's death he had to raise his two siblings and was not able to enroll in college.

When the mother of Hearn's children recently moved for financial reasons, Hearn said he knew he needed to better himself. He enrolled in a heating and air conditioning repair program at a trade school and asked the foundation for help paying the tuition.

However, the fund turned down his request for tuition assistance, saying he was too old. Hearn provided a copy of the email from the foundation stating that the fund was available to survivors "through age 25."

"They fail to realize after the bombing we had to find ourselves first before we were mentally ready," said Hearn, who borrowed the money to attend school. "There should not be a time limit after a tragic loss like that. No one came to us with these guidelines."

Keating, who has had no role in the funds since 2000, said the funds were intended to pay for any type of higher education, including trade school. He said he does not recall discussing an age limit for survivors.

Keating, now president of the American Bankers Association, said: "The focus should be on helping people" rather than preserving the fund principal.

"I think it's entirely appropriate to have these questions asked and answered," Keating said.

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Ziva Branstetter 918-581-8306
ziva.branstetter@tulsaworld.com