Shackled prisoner takes a painful fall

William "Brian" Hindt walked into prison a healthy man. He emerged 31 days later -- on crutches, with nine pins and a metal plate in his leg -- lucky to ever walk again.

Hindt, 42, was charged with possession of marijuana, possession of drug paraphernalia, maintaining a dwelling where drugs are used and conspiracy.

"They threw the book at me," he said.

But the charges were dropped at the request of state prosecutors, a court order says, in the "interest of justice."

"They were misdemeanor drug charges," said Hindt's Dover attorney Kevin Howard. "It's one of those situations where there's been several people in one location, a small amount of drugs was found, and he's arrested for it."

Hindt's prison stay at the Sussex Correctional Institution near Georgetown, for the most part, was uneventful. Things changed on March 28 as he was walking down a stairwell in a courthouse, wearing handcuffs and leg shackles.

This was his third trip down the stairs, but the first two times a prison guard held onto his arm in case he slipped. Now he was alone.

"The guards wanted to grab a cigarette," Hindt claims.

Midway down the stairs, he lost his footing and tumbled to a concrete floor.

"I tried to save myself three times, reaching out, but I was handcuffed and shackled," he said. "When I landed on that concrete floor, I hit my head, messed up my shoulder, and there was blood oozing out of my left leg. I busted the bones clean in half."

Hindt suffered a compound fracture of his lower left leg.

"I was screaming and yelling for a long time before anybody even came to help," he said.

The following day, surgeons at Kent General Hospital inserted the pins and plate.

'We're Delawareans'

Hindt was born and raised on his family's small farm near Clayton. Soybeans are the staple, though they've just seeded ground cover for the fall.

"We're Delawareans," he said. "But I don't know if that's a good thing anymore."

In addition to helping out on the family farm, Hindt sets up new mobile homes. He positions them on blocks, ties them down and installs interior trim.

When one of his co-workers needed a place to live for a while, Hindt let the man stay with him for four days. After his houseguest had left, the state police came calling.

"I found out he had eight ... warrants," Hindt said. "I didn't even know he was wanted."

Hindt met the troopers on the porch. They asked for his roommate, and for Hindt's consent to search the home.

"I had nothing to hide," he recalled. "He wasn't living there, so of course I let them in."

The troopers discovered marijuana and drug paraphernalia concealed under a sofa.

"I tried telling the troopers it was his," Hindt said, "but he wasn't there, so they arrested me."

'Until the pain gets too bad'

While recuperating at Kent General, Hindt missed his brother's funeral.

"I didn't even know he died," Hindt said. "One day a guard tells me to call home. I spoke to my mom. She told me Danny died. He was only 44. All my relatives called and e-mailed Gov. Minner to let me out for the funeral. No one did. No one would listen."

After the broken leg was set, Hindt was taken from the hospital to the prison infirmary.

"One day a doc comes in and cuts off my cast because I was gonna be released," Hindt explained.

The charges were dropped, he was released from prison -- and the state stopped caring for his leg.

"Once he was discharged from the system, he was on his own," said Dover attorney Steve Hampton, who has filed several lawsuits against the state alleging poor medical care on behalf of inmates or their survivors.

"Maybe he'll be eligible for Medicaid," said Hampton, who is talking with Hindt but has not filed a lawsuit. "But the state still pays the costs, indirectly."

The injury has changed Hindt's life. Every day, he takes four Percocet, a strong narcotic, for the pain.

"I can't go to the bathroom if I take them every day, so I take the pain pills every other day," he said. "On the off-days, I just struggle with the pain."

Hindt can't work. He gave up his mobile home job.

"I can't help out on the farm, unless they lift me onto a tractor," he said. "And even then it's only for a couple hours ... until the pain gets too bad."