A Question of Honor : Mishandled Package, Rigid West Point Code End Cadet’s Dream

Graduation Day: From the stands, 22-year-old Biff Shea watched his classmates march into West Point’s sun-drenched stadium, fulfilling the dream he once had and lost.

Seven days earlier, the Army had charged Shea with larceny and conduct unbecoming a cadet over a package that he says got lost. Shea resigned rather than face certain court-martial and a possible six-year prison term if convicted.

Francis (Biff) Shea was the eldest son of a hard-working, patriotic family, honors graduate of a prestigious prep school and a stellar hockey player despite partial deafness left by a brain tumor removed when he was 11.

The United States Military Academy had eagerly recruited him, even granting a special waiver because of his handicap.

Like other cadets, Shea had memorized the Academy honor code. However, he did not just take it at face value, Shea recalled. He interpreted it differently.

“I think honor just doesn’t deal with a hard-and-fast line of ‘Cadets shall not lie, cheat or steal or tolerate those who do,’ ” Shea said.

“I think honor is a lot more. . . . Honor is treating people with a little more compassion, with a little more honor. Treat them as you would want to be treated.”

Shea was the product of tiny Raynham, Mass., pop. 9,076, and the cloistered environment of Deerfield Academy, a small, prestigious prep school in western Massachusetts.

He was ranked 12th in his class of about 100 at Deerfield and scored 1,200 on the Scholastic Aptitude Test. A standout hockey player, Shea was recruited by Harvard, Yale and other Eastern colleges.

“He was our No. 1 recruit,” said Steve Hoar, a former assistant coach at West Point. “I’ve known him since his sophomore year at Deerfield. He was a fine player, one of the best around in the Boston area.” Shea became the Army’s fifth all-time leading scorer.

On a recruiting visit to West Point, Shea met Gen. Joseph P. Franklin, then the Academy’s commandant, and both were equally impressed.

“He basically talked to me about the difference between West Point and an Ivy League education,” said Shea. “He pretty much convinced me that I could do well at West Point. He told me that an Ivy League education for a person like myself wouldn’t be beneficial. I’d be in the middle of my class, and I wouldn’t be able to show any leadership.

“The big difference was responsibility,” he said.

Hoar finds it hard to believe that Shea would “put anything in jeopardy. Any firstie (senior) walks a fine line. They don’t want anything to go wrong.”

His family describes Shea as somewhat naive and trusting.

“Biff in some ways is very shy and very private,” said his older sister, Lauren. “He’s not demanding. He doesn’t ask a lot of questions. He accepts it calmly and quietly and then mulls it over.”

Added his mother, Frances: “He’s very naive to the real world and the real things people do.”

Shea could not have guessed that the Academy’s punishment for mishandling a package would spell the end of his Army career.

Back on April 1, in the hectic remaining hours of the 24-hour central guard duty shift at Washington Hall, Shea and three cadets in his charge cross-referenced packages and broadcast announcements that echoed through the stone barracks.

Michael Sungaard, one of the four on duty, signed for a United Parcel Service delivery of approximately 100 packages, including a box addressed to Frank Condor.

The cadets checked the company roster but failed to find anyone named Condor. “We looked in the package for a separate name, a company name,” Shea said. “We thought UPS misdirected the package.”

While the four searched the box of five size 17 1/2 shirts and two pairs of pants, size 34 waist, for an identifying slip, a delivery of 200 weapons arrived.

The box was tossed in the back of the guard room, and the four concentrated on checking serial numbers on M-16 and M-60 rifles, grenade launchers and pistols.

After dinner, the commanding officer told Shea to clean up the guard room.

“Get rid of the rest of the stuff,” the officer said. “Do whatever you want with the rest of the stuff, throw it away.”

Shea tossed the wrappings and refuse away and considered disposing of the package addressed to Condor. Instead, he tossed the box on top of an empty locker in his company’s trunk room, a storage facility for some 200 cadets.

“I thought, why throw these clothes out?” Shea said. “At the end of the year, all the firsties throw their clothes in a pile. What happens is you go and take the clothes you want. I figured someone could take the clothes and wear them.”

Three weeks later, Cadet Frank Cowden approached Shea. “Do you have a package for me?” he asked.

“No,” replied Shea. “There were a bunch of packages in the central guard room. It might have gotten thrown out because I threw out some of the packages we couldn’t identify. . . . I didn’t see anything with your name on it.”

Realization Too Late

By the time Shea realized the incorrectly addressed package belonged to Cowden, it was too late. Cowden had already contacted the Criminal Investigation Command.

Sgt. Thomas Cline, an MP with the command, asked Shea if he took the package. He denied stealing it but recalled throwing a package of clothes in the trunk room.

Shea took Cline to the trunk room and pointed out the package. The clothes had been worn, and some items were soiled.

“If I was going to steal somebody’s clothes . . . what would I have done with the clothes?” Shea said. “I mean, you wouldn’t leave them there. That would be ridiculous. A month before graduation. That’s stupid, it’s idiocy. You’d throw them away, anybody would.”

Report Filed

Cline filed a report indicating Shea had admitted stealing the package and had intended to wear the clothes, although they were much too big for his 5-foot-9, 160-pound frame. Shea initialed the report without reading it.

On May 15, the Army charged Shea with larceny in the theft of $450 worth of clothing and conduct unbecoming a cadet.

As word of the charges spread, Shea found himself shunned. Shea was never called to the stand because “everything would be unsubstantiated,” he explained.

After the hearing, Shea felt it would be too painful to stick around campus during graduation time. He asked permission to return to Massachusetts but was told he had been assigned to a work detail. He would have to stay to perform various clerical duties.

A week later, Shea’s car wouldn’t start. A mechanic told him someone had poured five gallons of water into the gas tank.

Intensifying Shea’s ordeal on campus was the suicide of Daniel Cockerill, a sophomore cadet and standout lacrosse player who hanged himself in his room May 19. Because of the pressures on Biff, Cockerill’s death seemed especially tragic to the Shea family.

“My husband was devastated by the look in Biff’s eyes,” said Frances Shea. “He got into a shouting match with the TAC (tactical) officer. He said, ‘I want my son back in good condition, not in a casket.”’

Shea finally received permission to leave on June 6.

The Article 32 hearing report calling for a general court-martial was submitted to the Academy’s superintendent, Lt. Gen. Willard Scott, who approved it and told Shea to prepare for trial.

Telegram to First Lady

Shea’s mother called officers at West Point, sent letters to congressmen and even telegraphed First Lady Nancy Reagan, saying her son was “being used as a scapegoat. He has no rights as a cadet. Please help.”

Col. Richard W. Tragemann, of the Department of Army, responded to Frances Shea’s telegram, assuring her that “your son’s rights will be protected during the investigative process and any proceedings which may follow.”

But Biff Shea already felt defeated.

“No matter what happened at the court-martial, there was no way I could win,” Shea said. “And even if I won the court-martial, my character was already ruined, my career in the Army was already done. . . . Even if I beat the court-martial, they’d bring me up on honor charges, or misconduct. No matter what, there’s no way to beat the system.”

Shea Resigns

Shea resigned from the Army on June 27. The Army eventually granted him a general discharge under honorable conditions.

Officers at West Point refused to discuss his case.

Shea’s plight, which cost his family $15,000 in expenses and legal fees, took an emotional toll, especially on his ailing father.

Francis Shea Sr., a high-voltage splicer, suffers from degenerative asbestosis and PCB poisoning. He finds it difficult to comprehend the Army’s treatment of his son.

“He did his four years, and he’s honest as the day is long,” the senior Shea said tearfully. “He respected the uniform, and they lied to him.”

After leaving West Point, Shea worked for a construction crew and coached peewee hockey in the Boston area. For months, his dress gray uniforms hung neatly in his closet.

Then, on Oct. 9, Shea walked into the Navy’s New England Recruiting Center in Boston and applied to the flight program in Pensacola, Fla.

“I wanted to prove to myself that I could be a good officer,” Shea said.

On a recent visit to West Point, Shea strode across campus with the proud bearing of an officer--head high, shoulders back, chest out. Underclassmen hurrying past paid no attention to the young man in scuffed cowboy boots.

On his way to Washington Hall, Shea paused briefly at an “Army Personnel Only” sign before walking past it.

“I’m still a cadet,” he said firmly.