By all accounts, Mark Lindquist is a hero, an underpaid social worker who nearly gave his life trying to save three developmentally disabled adults from the Joplin tornado. Both houses of the Missouri legislature honored Lindquist, the Senate resolution calling him "a true hero and inspiration to others."
But heroism doesn't pay the bills. The tornado's 200 mph winds tossed Lindquist nearly a block, broke every rib, obliterated his shoulder, knocked out most of his teeth and put him in a coma for about two months.
Lindquist, 51, ran up medical expenses that exceed $2.5 million, and the bills keep coming. He requires 11 daily prescriptions and will need more surgery.
But he has no medical insurance. Lindquist couldn't afford it on a job paying barely above minimum wage. He assumed workers' compensation would cover his bills, but his claim was denied "based on the fact that there was no greater risk than the general public at the time you were involved in the Joplin tornado," according to a letter to Lindquist from Accident Fund Insurance Company of America, his company's workers' comp provider.
That reasoning has angered Lindquist's family, employer, even lawmakers.
"I think they need to take another look at the circumstances and revisit the claim," state Rep. Bill Lant, R-Joplin, said. "What he did went beyond heroics."
AP
FILE - In this Oct. 3, 2011 file photo, Mark... View Full Caption
Lindquist watched the skies darken on the evening of May 22 while on his way to the group home occupied by Mark Farmer, Rick Fox and Tripp Miller, three middle-aged men with Down syndrome. Soon after he arrived, a tornado siren began to blare.
Lindquist's employer, Community Support Services, had recently put workers through a tornado drill, so Lindquist and co-worker Ryan Tackett knew what to do. Because there was no basement or shelter and the residents moved too slowly to relocate, Lindquist and Tackett placed mattresses over the men for protection, then climbed atop the mattresses for added weight.
It seemed like little more than a precaution until Lindquist heard the unmistakable roar of the twister. "I told Ryan, 'If you've ever prayed before, now is the time to do it,'" he said.
The EF-5 tornado was among the nation's worst ever. It destroyed more than 7,000 homes, including the group home, and killed 162 people.
Among the dead were Farmer, Fox and Miller, a fact that still haunts Lindquist.
"I loved them almost as much as I love my own kid," he said.
Lindquist's survival defies logic. After the storm, rescuers found Lindquist buried in rubble, impaled by a piece of metal. Large chunks of flesh were torn off. Bones from his shoulder crumbled as they placed him on a door used as a makeshift stretcher. He was later delivered to Freeman Hospital.
Meanwhile, Lindquist's sister, Linda Lindquist Baldwin, his son, 12-year-old Creed, and other relatives contacted every hospital within 100 miles of Joplin searching for him. None of the unidentified matched Lindquist's description.
His injuries were so severe that his slender, athletic body had become swollen and unrecognizable. He was in a coma. Finally, after three days, he was identified by tiny brown flecks in his hazel eyes.
Doctors told Baldwin that if Lindquist survived, it likely would be in a vegetative state. Even in a best-case scenario, he likely would be blind in one eye, never regain use of his right arm, and never speak or think normally, she was told.
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