Of the many games that grace the floors at Harrah’s Cherokee Casino, poker might be the most universal. From casino floors to living room floors, the World Poker Tournament estimates that nearly 60 million Americans play the game. Even the president plays poker.

And now, any one of those 60 million will have their own chance at the game’s holy grail, the World Series of Poker.

This month, the casino will be hosting its first-ever World Series of Poker event, a 10-day poker extravaganza that culminates in two large tournaments and a 10-player final. The lucky winner of that game will go home not only with winnings, but a coveted slot at the prestigious World Series of Poker main event in Las Vegas. They’ll even be flown to Nevada, courtesy of their winning hand.

Ron Hager, director of table games for the casino, said that in the two years they’ve been offering the game, popularity among patrons has soared.

“They’re always asking, ‘Why don’t you have the big tournaments?’” said Hager. “Then there’s the added appeal of the World Series of Poker. It’s like every poker player’s dream.”

Indeed, that’s the appeal of this event: any player can become a Cinderella story. They just need the skills and, of course, that vital measure of luck that makes a good player a winner.

Although the poker at Harrah’s Cherokee isn’t exactly like the real-deal main event the WSP puts on in Vegas — it’s an electronic set-up, sans live dealers, thanks to some legal agreements the casino has with the state — Hager said that the players aren’t fazed. Some, claims Hager, even purport to like the electronic version better than the real deal. There are fewer errors.

“The players that play it, they all say it’s a heck of a lot better than you ever think it would be. People really like it,” said Hager.

And, he said, that claim is proven by the multitudes who are flocking to Harrah’s tables.

“We started with four tables, went up to seven tables after about two months, and increased to the 10 tables we have now. On weekends and holidays, 10 tables isn’t nearly enough,” said Hager.

In recent years, the game has seen a surge in popularity, thanks to events like the World Series of Poker and other televised matchups that bring the quiet drama of poker out of smoky back rooms and casinos and into America’s living rooms.

The game has the hushed, measured qualities of golf — patience, shrewdness, strategic calculations and a certain amount of bravado and luck are what make winners. But poker, unlike golf, offers everyday players the same shot at glory as the big-name players, no preternatural athletic prowess required.

As Hager said, it’s every poker player’s dream, and as the game gains a following, it gains a lot more hopefuls, too.

The World Series of Poker started in 1971. The headliner that year — the $10,000 Texas Hold-‘em tournament that’s become the star-studded spectacle of the poker world — had six participants. The numbers languished around the lower end of the size spectrum until 2003, when the event hosted 839 players. That was the year Chris Moneymaker won. He was a 27-year-old comptroller/restaurant worker who won the big pot by qualifying through an online poker site. He was young and fairly portly. He wore baseball caps. He was everyman. And he walked away with $2.5 million.

And that’s also when poker’s star began to ascend.

By 2006, the WSP had more than 8,000 hopefuls playing hands, an increase of more than 1,000 percent in just three years.

Last year, the tournament was down slightly to around 7,000 players, but interest in the game is clearly still blooming, even with the federal indictment handed down earlier this month against the three largest online poker sites on the Internet.

Moneymaker was proof that poker, unlike many other sports, doesn’t need extensive training from childhood, wealthy parents, the right build or the right coaches. It just needs the right hand in the right hands.

Moneymaker is set to appear at the Harrah’s event, which will, in itself, be a draw. Since his watershed win in 2003, he’s played in a plethora of tournaments, but he’s also parlayed his unique rise to stardom into a business opportunity with appearances at poker events worldwide.

Hager and his team are hoping that Moneymaker, and the ethos he represents, will bring in players to their event that might not otherwise frequent the tables. Though their pre-registration isn’t high, Hager said that’s normal and not something they’re particularly worried about.

“Amazingly enough, 60 percent of the people that register for a tournament do it in the last 30 minutes before the tournament starts,” said Hager.

So if you’re still honing your online skills getting ready for the big day, you’ve still got time. And if watching is more your speed than playing, there will be large screens and special coverage set up inside the casino for spectators.

And who knows? You might just be watching another Moneymaker in the making.

The schedule throughout the 10 days of WSOP includes live action tournaments and events for poker players of all types. Highlights include:

• Friday, May 6- May 8 — $550 buy-in multi-day tournament and final on Sunday, May 8

• Monday, May 9 — Omaha PL Hi/Lo $120 tournament

• Wednesday, May 11— $225 Carnival PokerPro Challenge Cruise Event

• Thursday, May 12 — $60 No Limit Turbo Hold’em event

• Friday, May 13-Sunday, May 15 — $1,075 buy-in tournament, winner receiving $10,000 seat at the 2011 WSOP in Las Vegas and a cash prize.

Legislation that would bring alcohol regulation in Cherokee completely under tribal control is now working its way through the General Assembly.

The Eastern Band of Cherokee Indians established its own Alcoholic Beverage Commission in 2009 following a resolution to allow alcohol sales at Harrah’s Cherokee Casino, and now the tribe is lobbying for recognition by the state.

The Tribal ABC Board controls the permits it gives to Harrah’s as well as the sale and distribution of alcohol at the casino. Now, Harrah’s must get a permit from the state, in addition to the tribal permit. With these bills, the tribe is trying to change that.

“Right now, they don’t recognize any of the ordinances other than their own. They only recognize towns, counties and townships,” said Bob Blankenship, chairman of the Tribal ABC Board. “We want them to acknowledge our authority, and we want to eliminate dual permits.”

And the issue is not just permitting, but enforcement. The Eastern Band has its own task force for alcohol enforcement, with two full-time officers on duty.

Because Cherokee is a sovereign nation, the state can’t enforce its permits there; they don’t have the jurisdiction. So the tribe is already doing it for them.

Now, they’re asking for full control of it, legally, instead of just operating on an ad hoc basis.

For Sen. Jim Davis (R-Franklin), who introduced the bill, it’s a local issue.

“I signed onto it because I believe in local control,” said Davis.

Principal Chief Michell Hicks said that he’s on board with the bill for the same reason.

Currently, there is nothing in the North Carolina alcohol statutes which specifically addresses tribal sovereignty and this bill will correct that deficiency.”

The measure has the backing of the Tribal Council, as well. In reality, the law will do little more than formalize the procedures already in place, and get rid of redundant permits.

What it won’t do is expand alcohol sales on the reservation.

Currently, Tribal ABC can legally issue sale permits to one place: Harrah’s. They can give one-time permission to serve alcohol at special events and issue brown-bag permits that allow patrons to bring their own — the Holiday Inn in Cherokee has had one since 1984 — but they still can’t let anyone on the reservation sell alcohol outside Harrah’s.

This means that, not only can other restaurants and shops in Cherokee not sell to customers looking to buy, Harrah’s itself has to take its money elsewhere, too. So ABC stores in neighboring counties are raking in revenue keeping the casino well stocked.

To change that, said Blankenship, another referendum would be needed to broaden the scope of his board’s authority.  

The idea of sales elsewhere on the Qualla Boundary, however, has been bandied about before and it has recently resurfaced. The Cherokee Chamber of Commerce sent out an informal survey, asking members to weigh in on the issue, and Chamber Executive Matt Pegg said that many seemed to be in favor of letting other local businesses get in on the alcohol game.

For now, though, said Blankenship, his board will be happy just to be recognized by the state for what they already do, without raising the question of whether they should do more.

Additional evidence has surfaced indicating Swain County social workers failed to act on reports of alleged abuse and neglect of a Cherokee baby who later died.

Court papers reveal that Swain County social workers had reports of physical abuse of Aubrey Kina-Marie Littlejohn by her caregiver, Ladybird Powell, months before she died in January.

The papers were filed by the Jackson County Department of Social Services in a custody case involving another child in Powell’s care.

Powell’s treatment of Aubrey and her still unexplained death weighed heavily in a petition filed by Jackson DSS to have an 8-year-old boy removed from Powell’s custody.

Although Powell lives in Cherokee, the tribe does not have its own agency to handle child abuse and neglect cases. Instead, the child welfare divisions of Jackson and Swain DSS manage cases on tribal land. Previously, Powell lived on the Swain County side of the reservation, so the case fell to Swain DSS.

But Powell has moved, as has the 8-year-old boy, who now lives on the Jackson County side of the reservation, giving Jackson DSS jurisdiction.

The petition filed by Jackson County DSS reveals the following:

• Swain DSS initiated an investigation into suspected child abuse and neglect involving Aubrey in November 2010. (This was the second such investigation in three months. Until now, however, only the first had been made public.)

• The report of abuse made to Swain DSS in November claimed that Powell “smacked Aubrey in the mouth when she cried and jerked Aubrey around,” and “knocked Aubrey off a bed intentionally.”

• Swain County social workers visited Powell’s home three days after the report came in. They had Powell sign a statement saying, “Ladybird will not physically punish Aubrey.” Aubrey was 13 months old at the time.

The first investigation of abuse and neglect by Swain DSS was in September. In that case, Powell claimed bruises on Aubrey were the result of a fall down the stairs.

A DSS worker deemed the report of abuse “unsubstantiated” after one visit to the home. While he told Powell to take Aubrey to the doctor and have her injuries examined, he never followed up to see what the doctor found — or whether the doctor’s visit even took place. He later fabricated a report claiming Aubrey had been seen by a doctor when in fact she never had, according to law enforcement records.

Swain County DSS is under investigation by the State Bureau of Investigation for an alleged cover-up. An interim director has been brought in, and three DSS board members have been replaced.

Ruth McCoy, one of Aubrey’s great-aunts, said there were other complaints from relatives ignored by Swain DSS — one of which she observed firsthand.

In November, McCoy heard from a relative that DSS had shown up at Powell’s trailer to take away a 10-year-old boy who was living there at the time. McCoy drove over to the trailer and implored the DSS workers to remove Aubrey as well. There was no heat in the trailer, and it was obvious to the social workers, McCoy said.

“The social workers were sitting there on the couch with their hands clasped between their legs to keep warm,” McCoy said.

One of them was Swain DSS Program Manager T.L. Jones, second in command at the agency. Jones even went out to his vehicle to get a jacket, McCoy said. Meanwhile, Aubrey was dressed in a jacket and toboggan inside the trailer. McCoy asked if Jones was going to take Aubrey, too.

“I said ‘What about her?’ and he said, ‘That’s another case.’ They were removing a 10-year-old and there was no heat but they didn’t take her,” McCoy said.

The night of Jan. 10 when Aubrey died, emergency room doctors at Cherokee Indian Hospital recorded her core body temperature as only 84 degrees, according to law enforcement records.

The reason for removing the 10-year-old was documented as drug and/or alcohol use by the caregiver, according to a Swain DSS report. The caregiver listed on the report was the boy’s biological mother, Mel Toinetta, who was living at the trailer with Powell.

The 10-year-old was placed in the care of McCoy.

Autopsy still pending

Doctors at Cherokee Indian Hospital the night Aubrey died suspected drugs may have been in the baby’s system and contributed to her death, according to the Jackson DSS petition.

No charges have been filed against Powell in connection with Aubrey’s death. An autopsy report, including a toxicology report, is still pending. The autopsy and toxicology report have been completed, but have not yet been reviewed and cleared for public release. The Smoky Mountain News has filed a request to receive a copy of the report when it is made public.

It appears Swain DSS was waiting for the results — which should clarify a cause of death — before deciding what to do about Powell’s custody of the 8-year-old boy.

The day after Aubrey’s death, a Swain DSS worker visited Powell’s trailer to check on the boy. Powell had legal custody of the child since he was 2. Recently, he had been living with Powell on and off, but seemed to be spending more time lately at the home of Powell’s ex-husband.

That must have seemed preferable to the case worker, as she wrote in her report that the boy should live with Powell’s ex-husband rather than Powell “until notified by DSS.” But that was crossed out and replaced with “until the toxicology report is in.”

Powell made derogatory and threatening comments to Swain social workers over the pending toxicology report, including that she would make them “eat the results when they come back negative,” according to the court petition.

The boy’s school expressed concern over the informal arrangement that placed the boy with Powell’s ex-husband. Since Powell still had legal custody, the school had nothing on file to prevent her from picking the boy up.

Jackson DSS apparently does not approve either, deeming the temporary placement with Powell’s ex-husband an inappropriate child-care arrangement, according to the petition filed by Jackson DSS alleging neglect of the boy.

The petition states that the boy “lives in an environment injurious to the juvenile’s welfare.”

The absence of alcohol in Cherokee is hurting tourism, according to the business community. And that’s something the Cherokee Chamber of Commerce might like to change. Over the past month, the chamber has conducted an informal poll of businesses to see where they stand on the issue.

“More people want it than don’t want it,” said Matthew Pegg, executive director of the chamber. “It’d be nice if Cherokee had a little bit more opportunity economically to bring in some of the other dining options into the area.”

While casino patrons can get a drink after voters in 2009 approved alcohol sales for Harrah’s, the rest of the reservation is still bone dry.

As a result of the poll, the board of the Cherokee chamber is deciding whether, and if so how, it should officially push for a more permissive alcohol policy.

Pegg said that, while some people in this fairly traditional community are reluctant to talk about legalizing alcohol, many business owners are getting more vocal about allowing everyone to serve, not just Harrah’s.

“Essentially, they just want a level playing field,” said Pegg. “If you’re allowed to have it in one restaurant, why can’t you have it in all of them?”

That’s an argument that’s popped up on-and-off since the approval of drinks at Harrah’s two years ago. While alcohol has been a contentious issue in Cherokee, voters approved the idea of selling it at the casino by a surprisingly large majority of 59 to 41 percent.

Feeling slighted, however, the business community at the time circulated a petition lobbying for alcohol across the board. Pegg admits that a good number of business owners are just as passionate about keeping alcohol out.

Many restaurants in Cherokee already have a bring-your-own policy, though the percentage that take that opportunity is often much smaller than those who would buy drinks with their meal, especially given that the closest non-casino sales are a 30-minute round trip to nearby Bryson City.

When the referendum came around in 2009, much of the opposition centered around the social consequences it would bring and was steeped in the Christian religious tradition that runs deep in the area.

But Pegg maintains that, looking at other locales with alcohol sales, those concerns would likely prove unfounded.

“We are in a predominantly religious area where alcohol is not as acceptable,” he said. “The stigma is ‘Oh my goodness, you serve alcohol and the place is going to go crazy,’ but I think people are more worried about it becoming a booze town than they need to.”

Alcohol, he argues, would be heavily regulated. And with drinks offering higher profit margins than food alone, introducing beer, wine and mixed drinks might give some restaurants an extra few weeks on each end of the season. Some, he suggests, may even be able to stay open through the winter, where they currently shutter during the tourist off-season.

Right now, though, moral concerns aren’t the only obstacle standing in the way.

Elections for some council members and principal chief are ramping up, and it would be difficult to find a more hot-button topic in Cherokee than alcohol. In light of that, many have responded to chamber queries that this year might not be the time to bring it up.

But for Pegg and the 203 businesses that are members of the chamber, as the recession is still kicking, there is no better time than now.

Harrah’s alone pulled in more than $1 million in alcohol sales last year, and now the rest of the reservation is hungry for a slice of such a lucrative pie.

“It gives them an option to have more revenue,” said Pegg, “and that’s more jobs and more tax and more everything.”

To describe the new visitor center on the North Carolina side of the Great Smoky Mountains National Park as a long time coming is something of an understatement.

Try some 76 years since plans were first hatched for a museum of this type, where visitors could learn about the cultural history of these mountains and the people who helped shape them. There never seemed to be enough money, and perhaps at times, enough interest, for such a visitor center to be built.

Until now, that is. The new Oconaluftee Visitor Center opened this month at the main entrance to the park just outside Cherokee, one that seems to do justice to the most-visited national park in the country.

“This is much more educational than the old one,” said Brenda Hornbuckle, who lives near Atlanta and was at the visitor center one day last week with her sister, Becky Strickland.

“I love it,” Strickland said, adding the two now plan to make another trip, and soon, so that the sisters’ grandchildren can tour the visitor center.

“This is a lot more updated and a lot bigger,” Strickland said.

And that is true: the old building, pressed into service as a “temporary” visitor center in 1948, will return to its original purpose as an administrative building for park personnel. The new 6,000-square-foot visitor center highlights Cherokee history, early settlers and mountain culture. The visitor center on the Tennessee side focuses on the mountain environment, wildlife and nature.

“There was always the intention of having a visitor center on this side of the park,” said Lynda Doucette, supervisory park ranger in Oconaluftee. “I’m just really tickled we finally have a building.”

And what a building: Built entirely from private funding for $3 million, Oconaluftee Visitor Center is, in a word, “powerful,” as Lisa Bach of Seymour, Tenn., described it. The exterior is wood and stone, very visible from nearby U.S. 441. So much so, some 1,300-1,600 people each day are stopping by — double the 600 to 800 daily visitors in the former, make-do center.

Bach said she was stunned by the building’s beauty and the quality of the presentation.

“I love it,” she said simply.

That’s exactly what people such as Holly Demuth, North Carolina director of the Friends of the Great Smoky Mountains National Park, were hoping. Demuth used words such as “topnotch” and “top quality” in describing the visitor center.

The Friends group chipped in $550,000 toward the exhibits and visitor orientation. The Great Smoky Mountains Association paid for the building and adjacent 1,700-square-foot “comfort station,” the euphemistically designated public restrooms.

“I think this signifies the role private funding can play,” Demuth said. “This has been part of the park’s plan for all those years, but the funding just wasn’t there.”

Demuth added that she believes the visitor center goes a long ways toward underscoring the increasingly important role the national park plays in North Carolina.

Relations between N.C. residents and the park haven’t always been smooth sailing. There’s lingering bitterness over the forced evacuation of farms and rural communities to make way for the park’s creation, and long-festering rancor over a road through the park that was promised to Swain County but never built.

The North Carolina entrance to the park saw three million visitors last year, less than half the number on the Tennessee-side of the park. Having a real visitor center might help attract people to this side of the park.

“We are proud to be a part of this process, of bringing a visitor center that is appropriate for bringing people into the park here in North Carolina,” Demuth said.

Shawn Byrd, a visitor from Michigan who was on his first visit to the Smokies, was suitably impressed, describing his impressions of the exhibits as “informative” and helpful to him in understanding Southern Appalachian culture and development.

Kent Cave, the park’s interpretive branch chief, would have been delighted to hear Byrd.

In a brainstorming meeting held in October 2008, Cave remembers discussing possible “themes” for the future visitor center. The folks gathered that day talked quite a bit, he said, about the need to dispel myths about mountain culture.

“We seized on an idea to show how land was used over time,” Cave said. “And we were very careful to integrate the Cherokee story throughout.”

In other words, the park story is the Cherokees’ story, too, the ranger said in explanation. Careful and meticulous attention was devoted to working with Cherokee experts on how they should tell this intertwined story, and that of the white Southern Appalachians who came to these mountains.

“I think we hit it pretty well,” Cave said.

Matthew Pegg, executive director of the Cherokee Chamber of Commerce, believes so, too.

“Anytime there is an opportunity for visitors to receive information about an area they discover something that they most likely never knew,” Pegg said. “If the visitors stop at the new visitor center and discover a new attraction or hike or fishing opportunity they are likely to extend their stay and in turn put more money into our economy — and that is a very good thing.”

“Pooh” Cooper Lancaster, owner of Madison’s on Main in Bryson City, and in Cherokee, Great Smoky Fine Arts and The Native American Craft Shop, said the visitor center was “desperately needed.”

“And it’s about time they’ve put a little money and building on this side of the park,” the Swain County native said. “I’m tired of Tennessee getting everything. North Carolina, as a state, has not done a good job of promoting the park.”

But with the coming of the new visitor center, Lancaster said she believes that now is truly changing.

Ribbon cutting

A ribbon cutting and celebration for the new visitor center at the North Carolina entrance to the Great Smoky Mountains National Park will be held at 11 a.m. on Friday.

David Cozzo is sitting behind a table at the Holiday Inn in Cherokee, trying to sell a ’76 Volkswagen to a teenager.

“The maintenance on these is rough, but you’d look good in it,” Cozzo pitched to his potential buyer, 18-year-old Chelsea Cucumber. She wavers slightly, then decides on a different ride, scooping it off the table and handing Cozzo several crisp $100 bills in exchange.

Cucumber didn’t buy a real car, of course. It was a Matchbox car. The money is also fake, printed with the face of Principal Chief Michell Hicks instead of the venerated Ben Franklin. Cozzo isn’t really a car salesman, either.

This is Money Mosh, where high-school seniors in Cherokee can test their financial knowledge before they come into a hunk of cash on their 18th birthday.

While all tribal members get a cut of casino profits, kids have to wait until their 18th birthday, when they get a serious check for years worth of casino payments.

For today’s high school seniors, it will amount to around $110,000.

To most people, $110,000 is a sizeable sum. To a high-schooler, it’s a nearly unfathomable amount, and developing strategies for what to do with it can be an equally challenging task.

That’s where Money Mosh is here to help. Real-life professionals such as bankers and investors come together with community volunteers like Cozzo and create a microcosm of financial society within a Holiday Inn ballroom and ask these seniors to navigate it.

They must pay taxes, they have to feed themselves, they have to buy housing and a car and at least three items at the ‘mall’ — you’ve got to wear something, right? — and then they have to decide what to do with the rest of it. Should they spend it? Should they save it? Or perhaps invest it?

On this particular night, there are 23 seniors milling about the room, visiting each station with fat stacks of funny money gripped in their hands. They start the night by cashing their checks and getting the fake cash, then they’re supposed to go straight to the tax man, where they get rid of around $28,000 right away.

Then they fill in cards ensuring that they’ve bought everything they should’ve.

Among the seniors — one-fifth of this year’s graduating class — the strategies are different, though most say they’re keen to hold on to a good bit of it.

“I’m trying to think of what I need the most,” says Cucumber, who decided that food, house and then car are the most important things on her list.

Trent Husky’s strategy was everything as cheaply as possible. He even tried to haggle with the real estate table, suggesting that going in on a house with his buddy James would be a better deal for both of them, though that was a no-go with the housing folks.

“I’m going to check out the investments and see how much money I can come out with,” says Husky.

“If you guys want to be real conservative and save as much of your money as you can, go for it. If you want to go wild and spend it all, go wild and spend it all,” says Shawn Spruce, who’s facilitating the night and helps run the Manage Your Money program, which includes the mandatory online financial education that all these seniors will also go through.

The point of this exercise, he says, is not to tell the students what to do with their money, but to give them experience in doing anything with it at all.

The evening is light-hearted and not too laden with financial terms or money management strategies, and that’s the whole point. The event is the brain child of Keith Sneed, who designed the money management course to appeal to teenagers turned off by presentations and brochures.

This is a chance for them to put what they’ve learned from the course into practice, and have a little fun along the way.

Spruce says his hope is that students can make their mistakes tonight, not with their real money that will only be given to them once.

“If somebody wants to go blow their money on a car,” says Spruce, “better that they do it with play money than six months from now at a real car dealership.”

Not to say they told you so, but the truth is … they did.

Construction of a wider bridge to span the Tuckasegee River in Jackson County was abruptly postponed this month after Indian burials were discovered. This frankly seemed to surprise only the state Department of Transportation, which had disregarded arguments made by nearby residents and former landowners that it keep bulldozers and such out of the archaeologically rich area.

Keep the project scaled down, the opponents argued. Even though a wider bridge has been planned for more than a decade, initially the state said it would build a new bridge in the same footprint as the old one, leaving the archaeological site untouched. Plans were altered in 2007, however, resulting not only in a much larger footprint, but also shifting the bridge over to sit on top of the site.

Cherrie Moses, whose family owned the land for 120 years, has been a vocal advocate for protecting the archaeological site in a field along the banks of the river. Moses has a long history of tussling over the issue with the state.

“It is an expansive area, which covers many acres near the Tuckasegee River. If work is done almost anywhere in our valley you’re very likely to discover most anything, including burials,” Moses said.

The DOT was supposed to go out to bid on the work in August but has delayed it until March 2012 to allow more time for an archeaological excavation of the site before building over the top of it.

“Protecting the important historical findings we have uncovered during the course of this excavation is vital to preserving the cultural resources of the Eastern Band of the Cherokee Indians and local citizens, as well as all citizens of North Carolina,” said Matt Wilkerson, an archaeologist for the transportation department. “We are prepared to take whatever measure is necessary to proceed with the utmost caution.”

The site was recommended for excavation based on previous archaeological discoveries in the area, although they found more than they bargained for. During the course of the excavation, crews found evidence of burials and at least two prehistoric houses, indicated by distinct patterns of post holes that show the outline of where walls stood.

The excavation was halted last fall because of these discoveries, as well as the onset of cold temperatures. The state said it plans to resume excavation of the site in the next few weeks.

Moses also expressed concern about where unearthed artifacts will go.

“It was my mother’s dream that any artifacts and burials be turned over to the Cherokee Museum including those items which were removed in the 1960s without any written permission from my mother or father. These unique treasures, no matter how small, should remain here within these mountains. They should not be taken to the State Repository where they will never be viewed by anyone from our area,” Moses said.

The $4.2 million will widen the bridge from 20 feet to 50 feet with three lanes, shoulders and a sidewalk to reduce maintenance costs, improve safety and reduce congestion.

Swain County social workers and supervisors named in a State Bureau of Investigation probe are no longer welcome to work child welfare cases on tribal land.

The Eastern Band of Cherokee Indians asked the Swain County Department of Social Services last week to send other workers instead when dealing with cases on the Qualla Boundary.

Swain DSS is under investigation for an alleged cover-up following the death of a Cherokee baby. Relatives had repeatedly warned DSS of suspected abuse and neglect by the baby’s caretaker, but DSS failed to take action and later doctored records to hide any negligence on their part, according to the law enforcement investigation.

An SBI search warrant named five employees, including the DSS Director Tammy Cagle and Program Manager T.L. Jones. Despite public demands that those employees be put on leave with pay pending the outcome of the investigation, only one has been suspended.

The rest remain in their jobs, which include duties on the reservation — from caseworkers investigating alleged cases of abuse to Cagle attending child welfare committee meetings with tribal officials. That has created a source of tension in Cherokee.

“I think while we are in this investigative period we should ask these guys to step aside in their responsibilities until we can figure things out,” said Principal Chief Michell Hicks. “This is a high profile issue and in light of everything that has occurred, I think it is in the best interest of all related parties.”

The request came from the chief’s office and was run past the Division of Health and Human Services in Raleigh. The state umbrella agency claimed it didn’t have jurisdiction over the job duties and case assignments of Swain County social workers.

“Any decision regarding this request would be made by Swain County DSS management,” according to Lori Walston, a spokesperson for the state agency.

Swain DSS Attorney Justin Greene, who has served as a de facto spokesperson for the agency during the tragedy, said Swain DSS would honor the tribe’s request. The social workers named will no longer work on the reservation in any capacity, even testifying in tribal court in ongoing cases they were assigned to.

“Swain County DSS employees not involved in the investigation will replace those five DSS employees in all matters occurring on the Qualla Boundary so that the delivery of social services to the enrolled members of the Tribe continues unimpeded,” according to a statement by Annette Tarnawsky, the tribe’s Attorney General.

Swain County DSS has an agreement with the tribe to perform child welfare services on the reservation. Swain DSS is reimbursed for all the services it provides on the reservation.

Over half its total child welfare caseload  — and therefore half the budget — is tied to cases involving enrolled members, according to DSS reports.

Cherokee is pursuing the creation of its own child welfare team, which would handle cases involving enrolled members rather than using on Swain County DSS, according to discussions at a tribal council meeting this month. Swain DSS stands to lose considerable funding if such a plan goes through.

Official suspension may be coming soon

Relatives of Aubrey Kina-Marie Littlejohn have been calling for the suspension of the social workers for four weeks, as have the majority of Swain County commissioners. Commissioners said their request has nothing to do with whether all employees named are guilty of wrongdoing, but is merely a matter of protocol to protect the integrity of the investigation.

But the DSS board, which holds the final say, reached an impasse on whether to suspend the employees. Commissioners were perturbed the DSS board failed to reach a decision and called for the board to resign. Three of the five indeed resigned, but commissioners then found themselves on the receiving end of public backlash from friends and family of the DSS board.

Two members remaining on the DSS board are Frela Beck, an enrolled member of the tribe, and County Commissioner Robert White.

Of the three vacant positions, one seat gets appointed by the county and two by the state Division of Health and Human Services.

County commissioners last week appointed Georganna Carson to the county’s vacant seat.

The state this week made its two appointments: Tom Decker, a teacher at Swain County’s alternative school, and Sarah Wachacha, a tribal member who works in administration at the Cherokee Indian Hospital.

A meeting of the newly constituted DSS board will be at 5:30 p.m. Monday, March 28, at the Swain DSS office. The board will presumably take up the issue of whether to suspend the employees in question until the investigation is concluded.

While the new board members will have to get up to speed on DSS policy, Decker said he is looking forward to the challenge and will not be distracted by the media attention surrounding the controversy.

“Once the new board sits down I am sure we will be able to work together well to do whatever needs to be done,” said Decker, who moved here 10 years ago. “I volunteered because I care about the people of Swain County and especially the children.”

Tribal members and leaders alike vented their discontent with Swain County’s handling of child welfare for Cherokee children at this month’s tribal council meeting.

The Eastern Band no longer wants to rely on Swain County’s Department of Social Services but instead is laying a framework for a new, tribe-operated child protective unit.

Their anger was in response to the death of 15-month-old Aubrey Kina-Marie Littlejohn, who died in January despite repeated warnings by relatives to Swain DSS of suspected abuse and neglect. The department is now under investigation for possible missteps and a subsequent cover-up.

The Eastern Band doesn’t handle its own child protective services; the task falls to DSS agencies in neighboring counties.

That may soon change, however. Family members, community members and professional child advocates appeared before the council and implored them to bring child welfare in-house.

“Our priorities are not on our own people,” said Regina Rosario, director of Heart-to-Heart, a Cherokee child advocacy program. “We can realign priorities, and all it takes is just the will in this chamber right here.”

Principal Chief Michel Hicks, who said he had to tread carefully in light of the ongoing investigation, acknowledged that there were problems with the current set-up of child welfare services, and confirmed that “the fire is burning again” on an initiative dating back to 2007 to bring it under the auspices of the tribe.

Hicks said he’s pulled together a team of deputies and other officials to look into the feasibility of a child welfare unit, and that reports will be coming to council over the next few months.

Aubrey’s family also stood up to ask the community for support, putting their voice behind resurrecting the idea of tribal child protective services.

Ruth McCoy, Aubrey’s great aunt, with tears thanked the council for engaging a private investigator following the child’s death. Chief Hicks and Tribal Attorney General Annette Tarnawsky made the decision to hire the investigator to check into her death because of reservations about how the case had been handled. Case workers had visited the child’s home several times prior to her death, and state investigators are now looking into allegations that workers failed to follow up with Aubrey and then falsified records in the case.

“She can’t speak, so we have to speak for her,” said McCoy, who is heading a letter-writing campaign lobbying the state for a full investigation of Swain County child protective services, which has now been launched.

She too asked council and the chief about moving child protective services under the umbrella of the tribe, referencing a 2007 proposal by Hicks to do just that.

McCoy proclaimed this the time to take action in the wake of Aubrey’s death.

“Let’s do something about this and get some questions answered about what’s going to happen with our social service department,” said McCoy.

“The simple fact is we just want the truth to be told,” said Hicks. “We also don’t want to see this happen to another baby in our future.”

Tribal children at risk

Many members have questioned whether Swain County social workers take cases involving American Indian children as seriously as white children. The failure by Swain DSS to remove Aubrey from an unsafe trailer that lacked heat and had known drug activity underscores the concern, family members say.

“It’s unfortunate and it does bring question to what else may be sitting out there to where a job has not been done on behalf of our tribal memberships,” Chief Hicks said. “And that’s a huge question and that’s a huge issue that we have to get to the bottom of. It’s time to take a different approach on social services, without question.”

But Carol Maennle, a Swain County social worker, said their agency looks after Native American children the same as white children.

“Don’t think for a minute we don’t love and try to treat them the same way,” Maennle said during a Swain County meeting this week.

Swain County DSS stands to lose money if the tribe takes over its own child welfare cases. DSS receives more for services provided to Native American children than for other children. Reimbursement for social work involving Cherokee children comes from the federal government, which provides a higher level of reimbursement, while funding for other children comes from the state, which doesn’t pay as much.

Other community members asked council members to take action to improve social services, as well.

Council Member Teresa McCoy reported that at a recent community meeting in Big Cove, more than a few residents came forward to relay their own bad experiences with social services in both Swain and Jackson counties, and even more came forward to express similar grievances to tribal council.

“Obviously this issue has touched everybody on this boundary. We’re parents and we take it personally,” said McCoy.

Jasmine Littlejohn, Aubrey’s mother who is currently jailed on federal drug charges, called tearfully for DSS officials to be called to account, saying that she hoped her daughter’s death would not be in vain.

“I want to see that nothing else like this happens to another child,” said Littlejohn, in a jailhouse interview. “My daughter may have just saved other child’s lives.”

Littlejohn said she was confident that, had her daughter not been American Indian, she would have been given better treatment by DSS workers.

Tarnawsky’s office has encouraged members with complaints about social services to contact them, noting that they’ve been involved in the investigation from the outset.

“We just want to find out what happened to this child and see what steps we as a tribe need to make and to take so that our children are well-protected,” said Tarnawsky.

Other tribal council members also expressed support for the initiative to take some social services out of state hands.

Bill Taylor, who represents Wolftown, said moves should be made on meetings held nearly a year ago to discuss that very idea.

“I think it’s the consensus of everybody here that we need our own program,” said Taylor. “Who’s going to take care of our children better? Our own people. I think it’s time that we stop dragging it on, and let’s do something about it before this happens to another family.”

The chief, however, turned it back on the council, challenging them to take their own steps towards a more active role in the tribe’s next move on the issue.

“It’s time for us all to step up and do something about it,” said Hicks. “It’s not just on the chief’s shoulders. There’s 12 council members that can step up also.”