Above photo: The November 2021 fuel leak at Red Hill was captured on video. It spewed for 34 hours, a military investigation found. Kevin Fujii/Civil Beat/2024.
Even As Disaster Loomed.
Shannon Bencs has never spoken publicly about her experience at Red Hill until now.
As the new director for the U.S. military’s largest fuel depot in May 2020, she realized almost immediately that something was wrong. The fire suppression system for the massive Honolulu storage system, which was holding 100 million gallons of fuel, was essentially turned off.
Firefighting foam necessary to put out a potential fuel fire had been removed by officials who feared a leak could contaminate the drinking water aquifer below, she said. As a result, those working in the facility’s underground tunnels, and those residing in surrounding neighborhoods, were at risk of facing an out-of-control blaze, she said.
So Bencs did what the Navy itself had trained her to do: She said something.
“They teach us and train us that the captain doesn’t have the ultimate authority. From the most junior of the sailors to the most senior of the sailors, if you see an emergency, then you speak up. You raise the concern. And you’re not retaliated against,” she said.
“It’s about stating the facts and making sure we’re in a safe situation.”
Bencs’ concern about the firefighting system was the first in what became a series of reports she made throughout 2021 warning the Navy, regulators, law enforcement agencies and members of Congress that Red Hill was being run in a dangerous manner.
Her warnings were ignored and ultimately resulted in her firing, she said. But taken together, they now seemed to foreshadow the crisis that came next.
On Nov. 20, 2021, some 20,000 gallons of fuel spewed from a Red Hill pipeline and contaminated the military’s nearby drinking water well. The incident sickened thousands of Pearl Harbor residents, some of whom are still struggling with health problems more than two years later.
While Bencs did not predict the exact series of events that occurred, several of the issues and leadership failures she reported were cited by military investigators as contributing factors that led to the disaster.
“I said the sky is falling,” she said. “And it fell.”
Bencs has never spoken publicly about her experience at Red Hill until now. For years, she feared doing so would invite retaliation. And in 2022, she filed a fraud complaint against Red Hill’s contractors, later dismissed, which was sealed by the court, preventing her from talking about it.
More recently, she offered her testimony to assist families who sued the federal government after they were sickened by the fuel contamination, but the Department of Justice objected, and a federal judge ruled that Bencs could not speak during the trial.
Now that Bencs’ fraud case has been unsealed and the trial is over, she said there is nothing holding her back from telling her story. Bencs’ account is corroborated by military documents, including copies of her complaints and DOD investigation records, and matches testimony she shared under oath during a deposition in the Red Hill families’ lawsuit.
She hopes sharing her perspective will bring attention to important lessons learned from a disaster she said was preventable.
“The lesson I see is: Listen to your people,” she said.
The Navy turned down an interview request for this story and declined to comment on Bencs’ time as fuel director.
In a statement, Navy spokesperson Chris Blachly said after the Red Hill disaster, the Navy took steps to improve its management of fuel storage worldwide. That includes developing more rigorous training and incident response exercises for it fuel depots, and making more comprehensive oversight and evaluation plans to ensure systems are maintained within industry standards.
Going forward, installation commanding officers will be the “single accountable official” for their facility, he said.
“This improvement in oversight protocol more clearly defines command and control for authority, responsibility and ensures accountability,” he said.
After the contamination disaster, the Navy initially sought to keep Red Hill open. However, in the face of mounting community pushback and political pressure, the secretary of defense announced in March 2022 that it would close.
Victor Peters, who worked at Red Hill for decades and reported management failures regarding a prior Red Hill leak, said Bencs exposed many of the same problems he tried to bring attention to while he was there.
“People in Hawaii need to recognize she’s a hero,” said Peters, who has forged a friendship with Bencs from his home in Thailand. “If it were not for her, there is no way they would’ve closed this place down.”
‘People Look Up To You’
Growing up, Bencs, 43, moved around a lot since her father was enlisted as an aerial photographer in the U.S. Air Force. She grew up mostly in the Southwest although she lived in Hawaii for a time as well.
After studying fine art at the University of Arizona, Bencs graduated in 2005 into a tough job market.
“I ended up wanting to do something bigger but didn’t know what,” she said.
She decided to enlist in the Naval Reserve as an operations specialist, a role that entailed air and ship traffic control and identifying other vessels as friend or foe, she said. Eager to rise up the ranks, Bencs sought a role that would promote her the fastest to officer.
To that end, Bencs later attended Navy Supply Corps School in Rhode Island. She learned the basics of managing the finances and assets of a ship, training that she said would come in handy later at Red Hill.
“Anything that requires money to pay for something, it has to go through a supply officer to find a way to fund it and procure it,” she said. “You have to have the taxpayers in mind because you can’t just loosely spend money.”
Soon after, the Navy submarine program, which had previously been open only to men, began recruiting women. So Bencs became one of the Navy’s first women to work on an American submarine, and the first – and at the time, only – female to serve aboard the USS Florida “Blue Crew.” Serving alongside roughly 150 men could have been intimidating, but Bencs said she felt respected by her colleagues.
Following a one-year stint with the Naval Supply Systems Command, she became a recruiter for the Navy. The job allowed her to share with others why she loved serving in the military.
“I told everyone about how good the Navy was and how many opportunities there were,” she said. “People look up to you. When you’re in uniform, you take pride and try to do the best that you can.”
From there, Bencs was selected for a unique opportunity to earn a master’s degree from the University of Kansas in business, specializing in petroleum management. Designed like a dual major, she studied both business management practices, including finance, and the science of fuels, from fluid dynamics to corrosion and engineering.
That degree set Bencs up for what she thought would be the best job in the world: Running the Red Hill Bulk Fuel Storage Facility.
A Cascade Of Failures
Bencs was humbled by Red Hill.
The massive, World War II-era complex is made up of 20 giant fuel tanks, each large enough to contain Honolulu’s Aloha Tower, and miles of underground tunnels and pipelines that stretch from the Oahu mountainside all the way to Pearl Harbor. At the time Bencs arrived, the facility was holding more than 100 million gallons of fuel that the military relied on to gas up ships and airplanes.
And it had a history of leaks. Most notably at the time, some 27,000 gallons of fuel had spewed from a tank in 2014, alarming the community and kicking off an activist movement to shut the place down. But in May 2020 when Bencs arrived, no one with political power was echoing those calls. The military had successfully convinced policymakers that the 2014 incident was a fluke.
When she arrived, Bencs said she didn’t know much about any prior leaks. But as an O-4, a type of junior officer, she was aware she was taking on a huge responsibility.
“My first impression was: Wow, this is a huge facility for someone at my rank to own,” she said. “You’re talking about this facility that is miles long that can be very dangerous if you don’t know what you’re doing.”
So she endeavored to study it, investing time into understanding the facility’s systems and how they interact.
“I was always told the best practices are to walk around, know your people, know your job, trust but verify,” she said.
It only took a month of information gathering for Bencs to hear whispers among employees that certain elements of the facility were not working as intended. The first red flag was the fire suppression system. The aqueous film forming form, or AFFF, was locked out of the pipelines where it was supposed to be in the event of a fire.
Bencs said she immediately informed her commanding officer, Capt. Trent Kalp, and was shocked by his response.
“He had known but didn’t say anything,” she said. “To me or anyone working at the facility.”
Very quickly, Bencs got the impression that the people running Red Hill didn’t understand how the system worked.
There were no military petroleum engineers working at the facility, she said. Much of the day-to-day maintenance and operations were being done by contractors. Those companies were theoretically subject to oversight by the Navy, but in reality, Bencs said, no one on the military side was qualified to review their work.
“These are complex engineering systems, and no one understood how they work together and the implications if they didn’t work at all, which is a pretty scary place to be in,” she said. “How can you protect yourself or operate something if you don’t know the dangers?”
Soon after her arrival, Bencs learned there was fuel leaking into Pearl Harbor near the Hotel Pier.
Navy officials told her it was a “historical” leak – fuel from past releases leaching from the soil near a Red Hill pipeline into the harbor. But Bencs suspected it was an active leak of fresh fuel and kept probing.
She dug up records showing that the nearest pipeline, a “defuel” line connecting Red Hill and Pearl Harbor, had not been properly maintained by contractors. She personally visited the pier where she observed fuel spewing out as if from a hot tub jet.
Bencs told her supervisor that the incident needed to be reported to regulators and up the military chain of command so the defuel pipeline could be fixed. But higher-ups refused to acknowledge it was an active leak that required reporting, she said, even when back-to-back leak detection tests confirmed the pipeline was leaking.
At the time, the Navy was seeking a permit to operate Red Hill from the Hawaii health department. And news of an active leak could be used against them in that process, officials noted in emails previously reported by Civil Beat. During a contested case hearing on the permit, a Navy commander testified under oath that with the exception of the 2014 spill, no Red Hill fuel had contaminated the environment since 1988.
Over Bencs’ objections, her superiors used funds intended for military maintenance projects to clean up the oil floating in Pearl Harbor’s water. As a result, the problematic pipeline itself was never repaired, she said, at least during her time at Red Hill. Bencs believes this decision caused major problems later.
As for Bencs, she was sidelined and became fuels director in name only.
A Feb. 11, 2021 letter of instruction signed by Kalp said Bencs’ “proficiency and professionalism in your leadership role have been lacking.” She was ordered to report to her civilian subordinate, deputy fuels director John Floyd.
The letter accused her of failing to “properly assess risks to mission” regarding Pearl Harbor fuel operations. It chided her for communicating with other military fuel offices about conflicting opinions with her command and alleged she “threatened” Floyd with negative consequences over disagreements. The letter also stated Bencs displayed “a blatant disregard for reporting accuracy and for other people’s time.”
“You must humble yourself and be willing to learn how to manage a Fuel Facility,” the letter stated. “You are expected to learn how to work well with others.”
Bencs was prohibited from speaking to military fuel officials without Floyd’s permission. She was assigned to lead tours of Red Hill for dignitaries and to write weekly essays about how she was improving her leadership and communication. In the letter, Kalp suggested she read “How To Win Friends and Influence People” by Dale Carnegie and “Extreme Ownership” by Jocko Willink & Leif Babi, a book about leadership in the Navy SEALS.
Days later, Bencs filed a report with the Naval Inspector General, alleging improprieties at Red Hill and gender discrimination. She also alerted Rep. Ed Case’s office. A representative for Case did not respond to a request for comment.
Meanwhile, the Navy took the leaking defuel pipeline out of service without a formal engineering analysis, according to the military’s own investigation. Unfortunately, that pipeline did more than carry fuel. It also helped to relieve pressure that could build up elsewhere in the facility, according to Bencs and Navy records.
Bencs believes the decision to close that defuel pipeline caused a pressure buildup that led to the water contamination crisis months later.
“If the gas is expanding because of heat, and the pipelines are heating up during the day, it needs to release that extra pressure. That’s what the thermal relief valves help to do,” she said. “If they’re blocked and sealed off, where’s that pressure going to go?”
Her theory: “All those gasses are going to go uphill” –toward Red Hill.
Indeed, pressure surges were a problem at Red Hill in 2021, so much so that in September 2021, the Navy shut down operations for several days. In an email, Blachly said the Navy blames those surges on operator error and that the Navy determined the closure of the defuel line “did not cause or contribute to the pressure” that led to the May leak. But Bencs doesn’t buy it.
“This was all preventable,” Bencs said. “It was a series of events that escalated into a catastrophe.”
The Pacific Fleet was concerned enough about the impact of closing the defuel line that it commissioned a study of the issue in 2022. The report is now complete, but the Navy declined to summarize its findings and wouldn’t share a copy absent a Freedom of Information Act request –a process that often leads nowhere.
Unheeded Warnings Preceded Disaster
On the evening of May 6, 2021, a pipeline ruptured at the highest point of the facility, near Tank 20, spewing fuel all over the tunnel.
Bencs wasn’t there at the time of the incident, but when she arrived early the next morning, the concrete, porous tunnel was soaked in fuel.
“It was wet all over the walls,” she said. “It had to be thousands of gallons to cover that surface area in the tunnels.”
The evening of May 6, in a phone call that Bencs recorded, Floyd said that at least 1,000 to 1,500 gallons of fuel had been spilled. But in the following days, Bencs reviewed records showing at least 2,000 gallons had been captured in tunnel sumps.
In fact, it was much more. The Navy Petroleum Office deputy officer in charge discovered that approximately 20,000 gallons had been spilled but didn’t include that fact in his report because “he did not deem it relevant,” according to the military’s subsequent investigation.
Bencs said she also discussed with colleagues the likelihood that some of the fuel had flowed into the fire suppression system, although she didn’t know how much.
Indeed, most of the fuel got sucked into a fire suppression drain line. Contents of that drain pipe are meant to be pumped to an aboveground holding tank but never made it there. Instead, the fuel sat stagnant in the pipeline for months.
Military investigators later noted the fire suppression system experienced an unknown system malfunction. Red Hill staff told investigators they checked the aboveground tank for fuel but, after seeing it was empty, assumed no fuel had entered the fire suppression system. Contributing to this incorrect conclusion was the “low level of knowledge of the system by Fuels Department personnel,” the report said.
The investigative report pointed out that Red Hill employees were frustrated as early as April 2021 about “systemic failure associated with maintenance support for Red Hill fire suppression safety.” A maintenance contract for the AFFF waste line was only signed after the May incident, their report said.
Bencs never had a chance to realize the full extent of the May spill. In the days following the incident, leadership excluded her from meetings and information sharing, and on May 12, she was asked to leave. She was transferred to the Marine Corps Base Hawaii on Kaneohe Bay.
On May 16, Bencs submitted a complaint to the Department of Defense Inspector General, reporting that the amount of leaked fuel was being underreported. After receiving no response, she resubmitted the complaint that July.
Throughout the remainder of 2021, Bencs also reported her concerns and shared documents with a litany of other government agencies, including the Navy Criminal Investigative Service, the Defense Criminal Investigative Service, the Occupational Safety and Health Administration, the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency, the Hawaii Department of Health, the Hawaii Attorney General’s office and the office of then-California Congresswoman Jackie Speier, who Bencs felt had a good track record holding the military accountable.
None of those notifications prevented what happened next.
On Nov. 20, 2021, a worker allegedly hit the AFFF drain line with a cart, allowing its contents – the fuel from the May leak – to spew into the tunnel. The fuel rained down for 34 hours, flowing into the nearby water well from which it was pumped into the Pearl Harbor drinking water distribution system.
Hundreds of families got sick, experiencing symptoms ranging from vomiting to neurological problems.
Learning about what happened was disheartening, Bencs said.
“During the eight-month timeframe in which these reports were made, it wasn’t stopped,” she said. “This whole catastrophe could’ve been stopped, and it wasn’t.”
The military’s own investigations into the disaster found the same, faulting a “a culture of complacency” exemplified by a lack of “critical thinking, intellectual rigor and self-assessment by key leaders.”
‘I Had To Sacrifice Myself’
During an investigation into Bencs’ Naval Inspector General complaint, which alleged gender discrimination, Bencs’ colleagues said she was the problem, according to records obtained by Civil Beat.
Capt. Kalp said she had “performance and personality issues.” Executive Officer Cmdr. Karlie Blake, accused Bencs of acting erratically, harassing other employees, and said she was “completely overwhelmed and not managing her responsibilities well.” And Executive Director of Fleet Logistics Center Pearl Harbor Scott Hedrick described Bencs’ behavior as “unstable” and “dismissive” of the advice of the in-house fuel experts, according to declarations submitted to investigators.
Bencs says the negative feedback only began after she started questioning how Red Hill was being run. In a November 2020 letter Bencs shared with Civil Beat, Kalp wished her a happy birthday and said he was glad she was part of the team.
“You’re doing awesome!” he wrote.
Today, Bencs is a valued member of the team at the Kaneohe Marine Corps base where, as a supply officer, she leads some 200 Marines, sailors, civilians and contractors. Overseeing fuel, ammunition and other base property, she ensures commodities, services, and equipment are funded and that facilities meet safety requirements.
“LCDR Bencs’ leadership and diligence are valuable contributors to the overall mission and readiness of the installation and the Marines, Sailors, civilians, and contractors that work here,” Col. Jeremy Beaven, the commanding officer of Marine Corps Base Hawaii, said in a statement.
“She is thorough, innovative, resourceful, and the focus of her work is clearly on the warfighter.”
A command investigation into Bencs’ discrimination complaint ended without a recommendation for disciplinary action. Civil Beat requested interviews with Kalp, Blake, Hedrick and Floyd through the Navy’s press office. All declined to comment.
Throughout her time at Red Hill, Bencs felt she was a lone voice bringing attention to “inconvenient information.” It was a lonely experience, she said. Petite and soft-spoken, Bencs felt she was taken less seriously at the facility because she is a woman.
“A naval officer, a man, can walk in a room and just have the audience listen because of who they are,” she said. “But a woman walks in and you kind of have to work ten times harder to get people to stay in line.”
At times, she said she questioned her own sanity and wanted to give up. But she thought of her three young daughters, who she teaches to stand up for themselves and what they feel is right.
“This was the hardest thing I’ve ever lived through,” Bencs said. “It would’ve been a lot easier to have just done nothing, but I wouldn’t be able to live with myself, especially if something happened. And it did happen, despite all the warnings.”
The U.S. Pacific Fleet investigations into the Red Hill catastrophe concluded Bencs’ removal from her duties “significantly” increased risk with the facility’s fuel operations.
Previous Red Hill employees had identified problems but stayed quiet. Bencs recalled one former Red Hill fuel director telling her that he kept his head down because he knew if he didn’t, he’d “never get promoted.”
“I had to sacrifice myself,” she said. “I didn’t see it any other way.”
Bencs said she has paid a professional price. Last year, she was up for promotion to O-5, a senior officer position, but didn’t get it. The Navy still controls her advancement. She has one more chance this year. If she doesn’t advance, she will keep her current rank until she retires.
“It means I’m dead in the water, no upward climb anymore,” she said. “And that is frustrating, despite everything that I’ve done.”
Environmental justice attorney Marti Townsend, a longtime advocate for closing Red Hill, said Bencs’ story exemplifies cultural problems within the military.
“The Navy has a culture of promoting the ‘yes men’ and ostracizing and penalizing the people who are actually doing the job,” she said. “And we have to pay for it.”
Since leaving Red Hill, Bencs has continued to share information with authorities, seek improvements at Red Hill and pursue accountability for those she feels were responsible for the disaster, albeit quietly.
Her whistleblowing likely thwarted the Navy’s receipt of a long-sought permit for Red Hill.
In September 2021, before the November leak, Bencs approached the Hawaii health department to report that Navy officials had provided false testimony under oath during hearings on their permit application.
DOH had previously said it was inclined to approve the permit, but announced that it would delay its decision to investigate a then-unnamed whistleblower’s information. It instituted a deadline for parties to submit updated arguments on Nov. 19, 2021. The catastrophic leak happened the very next day, and the permit process was subsequently abandoned.
In 2022, Bencs filed a federal lawsuit through the False Claims Act, a law that allows average citizens to pursue fraud claims on the government’s behalf. She accused five Red Hill contractors, who have received hundreds of millions of dollars in contracts, of failing to maintain the facility and setting the stage for the contamination catastrophe.
Those contractors – Pond & Company, APTIM Corp., AECOM, Hensel Phelps and Kinetix – did not respond to requests for comment.
After a two-year investigation, the Department of Justice declined to take on the case, and Bencs’ legal team voluntarily dismissed her complaint.
Bencs has offered herself as an unofficial advisor to the Red Hill Community Representation Initiative, a group formed to promote citizen engagement with Red Hill’s defueling and closure.
Bencs has even directly reached out to Rear Adm. Stephen Barnett, commander of Navy Region Hawaii, to offer her assistance, although he didn’t take her up on it.
In 2022, the nonprofit Whistleblowers of America recognized Bencs with their Giraffe Award, granted to individuals who “stuck their necks out” to report fraud, waste, abuse or mismanagement.
Army Maj. Mandy Feindt, a member of the CRI whose family was sickened by the tainted water, said she and Bencs have developed a friendship since connecting in the aftermath of the contamination.
“She lets me know there are still good people in the service and leaders trying to do the right thing,” Feindt said. “Those people have been very few and far between throughout this crisis.”
So far, the worst consequence a military official has faced at Red Hill is receiving a letter of censure. But there may be more to come.
The Department of Defense Inspector General has yet to release reports on its investigations into the debacle. Whether anyone will face criminal penalties for their actions at Red Hill is unknown. A grand jury was meeting as recently as last year and has heard from numerous witnesses, including Kalp. And Bencs still has the option of refiling her False Claims Act case with a new legal team.
“This ain’t over,” she said.