Situations like these have left many agency workers feeling exasperated. The Fall River employee quoted above goes so far as to liken the Beacon experience to "sheer hell." A veteran of more than 20 years, he’s seen the machine get the best of his colleagues. Some, in a fit of frustration, have threatened to throw their computers out the window. Others have been reduced to tears while typing at their desks. Last June, this employee even filed a complaint about Beacon with the union. Most days, he says, "You go home real punchy. Sometimes, I get out of here and ugh ..." Another daily Beacon user, a Revere-area supervisor, puts it more bluntly: "This system has meant major anxiety. It’s like the sky is falling, the sky is falling, the sky is falling. But it never does."

For recipients, though, the system can make for life-and-death situations. There’s the fiasco suffered by Kartch, of course, as well as by some clients of Ruth Bourquin. An attorney at the Massachusetts Law Reform Institute, in Boston, Bourquin provides legal services to low-income residents. Since August, she has heard more and more complaints from welfare recipients about their benefits. This past January, she received a call from a Boston-area single mother of two. The woman had received a Beacon notice, dated January 23, informing her that she had a new "employment-development plan" requiring her to seek a job in "clerical/administrative support services." Yet the woman had never discussed such a proposal with a DTA worker, as is required by law. Nor did she need to; she already had a job at a local public-school cafeteria. In other words, the notice did not apply to her. Even so, two days later, she discovered another one. This time, she was told that she would be penalized — and lose her portion of welfare benefits, about $90 per month — for failing to comply with the plan.

"The computer is just spitting out this stuff," asserts Bourquin, who has since intervened, forcing the DTA to resolve the case. She worries about others, though. She has represented a handful of people who have faced incorrect Beacon notices. She has contacted fellow attorneys whose clients have received the same notices as hers, as if the computer were generating file forms. Just last month, according to "Beacon Today," a DTA newsletter devoted to computer-related issues, food-stamp recipients whose "Social Security numbers end in 7, 8, or 9" — an estimated 1000 people — never received Beacon notices warning them that they had to re-apply for their benefits. As a result, the computer closed their cases.

"I’m especially worried about systemic problems," says Bourquin. So much so that she sent a February 4 letter to the DTA requesting a meeting. The agency has yet to respond. "This is all computer-driven, and that makes me really nervous."

DTA officials don’t deny that their much-touted system has caused trouble. To hear them tell it, however, the problems have been exaggerated. Says the DTA’s Reen, "Yes, Beacon has bugs. But it’s nothing you wouldn’t expect from a new system." To iron out the kinks, the department has updated the software eight times in the past six months. It has fixed more than 500 "defects" that were preventing the computer from properly converting or processing data. Today, officials maintain, Beacon successfully handles 99 percent of the caseload, up from 90 percent in August 2001.

But DTA workers continue to take issue with such rosy scenarios. Since 2001, when the Beacon pilot began, agency supervisors have had to review the computer’s notices — and have spotted some disconcerting trends. At an April 2001 meeting between DTA commissioner Claire McIntire and 12 management liaisons, the topic of faulty notices was discussed at length. In an account of the session obtained by the Phoenix, it was reported that nearly 90 percent of all the Beacon notices reviewed were "incorrect in part." (Remember, DTA spokesperson Richard Powers says that the agency never has and does not now track errors in notices. However, the minutes from this meeting indicate that tracking does indeed take place.) Some of the notices featured missing or false information. Others, as the account states, "contained wrong concept language" and threatened actions that didn’t apply to the circumstances at hand. This suggests that Beacon has created its own set of issues for the DTA. "A computer glitch is a new reason why people aren’t getting benefits," notes one union official who works in a DTA Boston office. "If you have no money and you rely on benefits, a glitch is not an excuse."

Still, DTA administrators contend that such issues don’t affect the entire network. If Beacon were riddled with fundamental flaws, they argue, its fields would never open. All employees in one office would grapple with the same defect. Clients would never receive payments. "We have seen problems with individual cases," Reen acknowledges, "but they’re not systemic." He and his colleagues attribute the criticisms to seasoned employees, set in their ways. Says Judge, who worked as a social worker in the 1970s, "If you don’t like the concept of an online interview, then Beacon sucks." The software, he admits, does require more work — at first. Once applications are processed, they’re stored in a database, saving time later. "This is a perk," Judge adds. "But it’s a different mindset. Some wily veteran might not like being told how to do his job."

It’s true that some DTA employees yearn for the good old days — but only because Beacon has made life miserable for them and their clients. The Boston social worker quoted above voices the prevailing attitude among the rank and file: "If the computer made my job easier and helped people, it’d be wonderful." And although many social workers wish to see the system scrapped, they realize the prospect is slim.

Lately, legislators have turned an eye on Beacon. After all, state and federal governments have poured millions of dollars into a network that has yet to do what it should. In itself, the cost to create Beacon — $69.7 million — seems enough to warrant inquiry. And that figure doesn’t include the cost of maintaining the system. In fiscal 2002, the DTA’s technology division, which manages Beacon, consumed $16 million, or nearly 1.9 percent, of the DTA’s overall $857 million budget. In 2001, according to union officials, the department paid another $520,600 in overtime just so technicians could stay on top of the system.

Last spring, after fielding complaints from agency social workers, State Representative Mark Falzone (D-Lynn) requested that the House Post Audit and Oversight Committee investigate the system. Falzone, a member of the watchdog group, says that taxpayers deserve some accountability: "In these tight fiscal times, it’s important that we spend money responsibly." (He declined to discuss or even confirm the existence of an investigation, citing committee rules.)

More recently, State Senator Therese Murray (D-Plymouth) has also questioned Beacon. When the Senate debated a pending technology-bond bill last month, Murray — who in the mid 1990s pushed for $32 million in state funds for Beacon — put forth an amendment banning further capital expenditures on the computer. The provision calls for the DTA to give the legislature cost accounts, as well as an assessment of whether "the current infrastructure has accomplished its intended goals." Murray explains that she took the action because the administration has failed to oversee the project. "I want someone on top of this," she adds. "Workers are frustrated. Recipients are hurt. We’re not being told the realities."

Yet Murray’s heated words don’t seem to faze DTA officials. Reen claims the agency would be "excited" to educate legislators about the system. That way, the DTA could dispel the "myths."

"We think legislators would be as thrilled as we are about Beacon," Reen says. As for those instances when the network did mess things up for recipients, he says, "We’re working diligently to make sure they don’t continue to happen."

But if the DTA needs a reminder of the harm that its new system can cause, it need look no further than Cindy Kartch. Two weeks after receiving her food stamps, she’s beginning to wonder if her monthly benefits will be credited to her account in the future. Should she ration her $58 worth as a precaution? Can she even afford to? As she reflects, Kartch has begun to realize her own relative good fortune. She is, after all, a college-educated woman who can fight for herself. What about recipients who cannot speak English? Or have a limited education? Or suffer severe mental illness?

"I’m just amazed," Kartch concludes. "I mean, children are going hungry because of a computer problem. Think about that."

Kristen Lombardi can be reached at klombardi[a]phx.com