Jail medical personnel were called and began emergency medical treatment.Fletcher was transported to a local hospital where he was pronounced dead by emergency room personnel.At 9:40 a.m. that morning, about five hours after the deputy found Fletcher unresponsive, attorneys appeared in court to discuss reducing his bond, believing that he was not present in court due to simply being sick.Public Defender Carey Haughwout says Fletcher’s mother was also in court, ready with a bondsman to get him out and unaware that he had died.By 10 a.m., Circuit Judge Daliah Weiss had agreed to lower his bail from $50,000 to $4,500. He would have also been placed on in-house arrest.On the night of March 23, Fletcher called police when he thought his girlfriend and their child were being held against their will.However, his girlfriend later told Riviera Beach officers they were not in fact being held, and added that she “has been a longtime victim of domestic violence by Fletcher,” according to an arrest report.Fletcher had reportedly threatened to kill her boss and later came to her place of work with a 10- to-12-inch knife.Officers arrested the Lake Park man the next morning on an aggravated assault charge.Circuit Judge Laura Johnson then ordered that Fletcher be held on $50,000 bail for the third-degree felony charge, even though he had no prior convictions, and the scheduled bond is usually $3,000.Foul play is not suspected, and officials say that Fletcher did not show any signs of underlying health issues.The Medical Examiners Office has completed an autopsy and is pending toxicology results. Palm Beach County detectives are investigating the death of an inmate earlier this week.According to official records, 29-year-old Travis Fletcher had been charged with aggravated assault and was in the Palm Beach County Jail.Police say a Palm Beach County Sheriff’s Office corrections deputy was distributing breakfast food trays last Monday morning at 5 a.m., when he noticed that Fletcher did not come to take his tray.The deputy then checked Fletcher’s bunk and found him unresponsive.
Collins had good teams in Houston but ran into clubhouse lawyering and interference from owner Drayton McLane.His first two Angels teams competed well. In 1999, the club couldn’t resist signing Mo Vaughn as a free agent from Boston. Vaughn set himself up as a leader before anybody really knew him. The clubhouse curdled, Vaughn clashed with closer Troy Percival, Collins upbraided players in front of their peers, and the unfiltered words of coach Larry Bowa didn’t help.“The team that I gave him had some really good people individually,” said Bill Bavasi, the Angels’ general manager who hired Collins in 1997 and was fired at the end of 1999, after Collins had resigned.“When you got them together, they were toxic, like a nuclear waste dump.”Collins went back to the Dodgers as an instructor. He managed China’s Olympic team. He managed Orix in Japan. He even managed the Duluth Huskies, a college summer league team.When Sandy Alderson took over the Mets, he identified Collins as a longtime player-developer who could comfort and inspire. It helped that Paul DePodesta, the Dodgers GM when they won the West 11 years ago, was Alderson’s assistant.Fred Claire had that Dodgers job in 1988, their last championship team. He isn’t surprised Collins has become a New York media favorite.“He is determined, he’s honest and he’s fearless,” Claire said. “Bill Schweppe was our farm director in 1974. He saw Terry playing for Sherbrooke, a minor league team in Connecticut, and saw how determined he was, and he traded for him so he could play for our Waterbury team.“I really don’t think we’re going to see a guy like Terry again, a guy who’s been in the game for 44 years in all those capacities.”In Salem, Va., Collins played with a hulking 21-year-old outfielder named Dave Parker. At Albuquerque, Collins managed Stu Pederson, whose son Joc will be playing centerfield against Collins next week.Through it all, Collins’ eyes have remained on high-beam. He could have been on the manager’s track in L.A., but he derailed himself when Tom Lasorda criticized the performance of some Dodgers callups from Albuquerque.“My comment was something along the lines of, ‘Now that the Dodgers are losing, why is it a big deal what we do in Albuquerque?’” Collins said one day in Anaheim. “I was wrong.”He was also done, in Lasorda’s eyes, and became the manager for Buffalo, Pittsburgh’s Triple-A club. He then joined Jim Leyland’s staff in Pittsburgh and parlayed that into Houston.His first four Mets teams played, hard, despite injuries to Johan Santana and David Wright and other failed trips to the free-agent bazaar. Underneath, pitchers like Matt Harvey, Jacob deGrom, Noah Syndegaard and Stephen Matz were ripening.“People want to hire the fresh face,” Bavasi said. “But Tal Smith (the former Houston GM) told me that managers can be better with a second chance, because they can reflect and say, ‘You know, I thought I was doing such-and-such, but I really wasn’t.’ The third chance can be even better.”Sometimes, you just need a good Flushing. New York is not for everybody. Neither is Terry Collins.The same blazing gaze you need to get through the Lincoln Tunnel also gets you through four steamy, futile summers in Queens.In Collins’ previous managing stops in Houston and Anaheim, he was considered too edgy, too emotional, a little guy whose heart had moved past his sleeve and onto his fingertips.Turns out, Collins was a New Yorker waiting to happen. In his 24th year of managing, Collins is in the MLB playoffs for the first time. He is 66, with an often-unrequited faith in the game.Everyone could see the intensity, but few connected it with his patience. The Mets were equally patient with Collins, through four losing seasons in the belly of the New York beast.Next week he will lead the Mets against the Dodgers in the National League Division Series. That leads to a lot of other stories, but Collins, like all survivors, has changed with the habitat.“I didn’t think I’d get another chance,” Collins said during 2011, his first New York season. “But I said that, this time, I’ll never take it for granted that a player knows what I’m thinking.”Collins began spending batting practice on the field, going from station to station, giving every player a chance to small-talk, campaign, complain. It is a zone of privacy in plain sight. Tony La Russa used to do it. It’s inexplicable that others don’t. Newsroom GuidelinesNews TipsContact UsReport an Error