NPR probes the regulatory loophole that allows mine owners to ignore government regulators and operate unsafe mines. For years, the owners have failed to pay penalties even as workers are injured. Read our full report.

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Transcript

DAVID GREENE, HOST:

We're reporting this morning on federal regulations that are supposed to keep mine workers safe. A joint investigation by NPR and Mine Safety and Health News has documented how those regulations fail. They're supposed work this way - coal and mineral mines are fined for safety violations, and the fines discourage unsafe practices because violations are expensive. But our investigation shows federal regulators are unable or unwilling to collect when mine owners refuse to pay. And as NPR's Howard Berkes reports, that puts miners at risk.

HOWARD BERKES, BYLINE: Jack Blankenship was a mile underground in Logan County, West Virginia, two hours into his shift and alone on an errand when he was suddenly pinned facedown to the floor of the Aracoma coal mine.

JACK BLANKENSHIP: I couldn't hardly breathe. I'd black out and come to. I'd have dirt in my mouth where I'd be shoved down in the dirt.

BERKES: This was four years ago, but Blankenship clearly remembers the pain growing in his shoulders, back and neck and his legs going numb.

BLANKENSHIP: Then I was able get my left arm free, but I still couldn't maneuver myself out from underneath the rock. I didn't know how big it was, or - for all I know, it could've been half the mountain down on me.

BERKES: Blankenship later learned it was a 300-pound, mattress-sized slab of rock that fell from the mine roof. In the two years before, according to federal mine safety data, the Aracoma mine had more than 120 violations for not checking for loose rock or taking rock fall precautions. The mine and owner Massey Energy had a history of deadly actions. And as Blankenship lay trapped, pressing a panic button on his radio, the mine owed more than $200,000 in delinquent safety finds.

BLANKENSHIP: You know, I was waiting to die. I was already having my little talk with God. Only thing I kept repeating was you know, wife and kids. You know, what would happen to them? But other than that, I was ready for whatever was going to happen.

BERKES: After two hours, several men lifted the slab used fencing as a gurney to carry Blankenship to the surface. He's among thousands of workers injured at mines that failed to pay $70 million in safety fines. That's according to NPR's comparison of federal delinquent fines records and twenty years of Labor Department data on mine injuries and violations. Delinquent mines continue to operate and continue to be cited for safety violations, which troubles Bruce Simpson, who collected fines in the 1990s for the Federal Mine Safety and Health Administration.

BRUCE SIMPSON: It says you don't have to worry about that federal agency. It says you don't have to worry about the Mine Safety and Health Act. It devalues the laws that regulate them.

BERKES: It puts miners at greater risk of injury. Delinquent mines injure miners at a rate 50 percent higher than the rest, according to our analysis of federal mine injury data. So why are they allowed to continue to operate? Joe Main is the assistant secretary of labor for Mine Safety and Health. And he says there's far more to enforcement then fines.

JOE MAIN: A penalty just part of the provisions of the Mine Act. The most critical thing is out at the mine level dealing with cleaning up these mines and making sure the mines are safe.

BERKES: That starts with regular inspections that discover violations and lead to fines. Main notes that violations must be fixed. But mines change constantly. Threats reappear. Persistent vigilance is required to keep miners safe, says Michael Wolford, a retired federal mine inspector.

MICHAEL WOLFORD: If they don't pay their fine, well, you've only done half your job. You went there, and you caught them doing something, but all they do is fix it and not pay a fine. It's not much punishment.

BERKES: You mean they could do it again.

WOLFORD: Well, they will do it again. If it's not going to cost you anything, what's the incentive for you to do very much? It's having a law and no punishment connected to it.

BERKES: Mine Safety Chief Joe Main says most mining companies pay their fines, but those that don't can do a lot of damage, according to our comparison of delinquency and injury data. We counted nearly 4,000 injuries while mines were delinquent. But get this. The Mine Safety Agency can't shut them down, even when they don't pay their fines, more workers are injured and more violations occur.

MAIN: What we did is implemented the tools that Congress gave us - not what folks would like for us to do - but what Congress gave us. And we have maximized those provisions of the law, I think, more than anybody in modern time or maybe in the history of the Mine Act has.

BERKES: Main implemented tougher enforcement after the 2010 mine disaster in West Virginia that killed 29 workers. He staged hundreds of extra inspections, all unannounced and involving waves of inspectors. He focused extra scrutiny and harsher sanctions on persistently dangerous mines. Some closed as a result. But here's the thing. Federal records show the while delinquent mines were open, the committed 130,000 violations. Forty-thousand were so severe, they put miners at risk of serious injury or illness, according to the citations written by federal inspectors. Joe Main.

MAIN: Are those things of concern to us? Yes. If you have evidence that supports legal opportunities we have of things that we do not know, please share them with us.

BERKES: Actually, the agency can do more with the legal tools it has. It can take more delinquent companies to federal court and then enforce court orders and settlements. NPR identified 34 federal court cases and settlement agreements in the last eight years involving delinquent mine owners. These companies owed more than $16 million. They've paid less than $800,000, according to information provided by the Mine Safety Agency. Why? Davis Sledd is a former federal prosecutor who specialized in coal mine cases in Kentucky.

DAVIS SLEDD: Coal mine regulation is not a high-profile area of law enforcement. It's not like guns or drugs. It's not the drama of a jury trial in a federal court.

BERKES: Enforcing court orders and settlements is a low priority, Sledd says. And it's a challenge. He says he and other federal prosecutors didn't have the expertise to identify and seize assets. That could be done by investigators and lawyers at the Labor Department if they devoted the time and resources. But it's a daunting task, says Ed Claire, who was the Mine Safety Agency's top lawyer for 23 years.

ED CLAIRE: Corporate laws in this country allow corporations to insulate individuals from liability, and corporations can go in and out of business. Mines go in and out of production, and equipment is leased rather than owned. Mineral rights are leased rather than owned. There is no way to ultimately hold them economically accountable for their violations.

BERKES: So mining companies can ignore court orders and demands for payment. They can continue to violate the same safety laws that cause them to be fined in the first place. It's an enforcement mechanism with no enforcement, says Tim Bailey, an attorney representing disabled miner Jack Blankenship.

TIM BAILEY: You've got to have an economic disincentive to be unsafe. And right now, even though the fines can be hung on the wall, and we can all tally them, if you don't have to pay them, it's just toothless. It's a toothless tiger. You're not scared of it anymore.

BERKES: This summer, in a white double-wide near the Aracoma mine, Jack Blankenship leaned against a cane. A massive fan fought off the heat and humidity. At 41, he has pinched nerves in his neck and back, a fractured spine and a reconstructed shoulder. He can't work. He can't sit long enough to watch his son play basketball. He can't hunt with his daughter in the woods. He has few expectations, he says, for the rest of his life.

BLANKENSHIP: Church and Forest Lawn, that's the cemetery where I've got plots. Just a matter of seeing the kids graduate. My daughter, she's graduated. My son's, he's got about five years, so I'll take it one day at a time until then.

BERKES: And some nights he wakes up struggling to breathe, as if still trapped facedown in the darkness and the dirt. Howard Berkes, NPR News. Transcript provided by NPR, Copyright NPR.

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