Here's some news that the Dallas Housing Authority, for whatever reason, would rather you didn't know:

Ann Lott, the ex-president and CEO who abruptly resigned under pressure a month ago today, will get nearly $200,000 in exit pay.

On top of the $90,000 severance pay she'll cash in over a six-month period ending in February, Ms. Lott also will be paid $104,691.59 for accumulated vacation and sick time.

After taxes and deductions, Ms. Lott will get a lump-sum check today totaling $93,312.80 for the unused sick and vacation time.

A lot of people will be upset because, frankly, taxpayers always get angry when it looks like government employees – especially someone facing job-performance questions and a contract set to expire – are handed a golden parachute.

But let me quickly say this: Don't blame Ms. Lott for the fat check she's getting for vacation and sick time she didn't use. The fault there lies with a policy allowing agency employees to rack up so much time.

DHA is not alone in this practice, but it has a most generous policy for sure. And it may need to be capped.

Even Betty Culbreath, the tough-talking chairwoman of the agency's board, acknowledged that the policy – which allowed Ms. Lott to store 822.5 hours of sick time and 356 hours of vacation time during her cumulative 23 years with DHA – raised her eyebrows.

"I thought the policy was too generous for everybody," Ms. Culbreath said.

And given time – which she may not have unless Mayor Tom Leppert reappoints her – Ms. Culbreath might figure out a way to make sure employees aren't allowed to, um, abuse the system.

Again, I'm not saying Ms. Lott did anything wrong. Ms. Lott, whose salary was about $180,000 a year, should be paid for vacation time she earned.

The sick time – well, that's another story. Should anybody be allowed to amass 5-plus months of sick time for which she or he can later be paid?

That strikes me as more of a potential gold mine than a safety net, particularly if it's not carefully monitored.

Such sticky, unpleasant details may explain why the agency's legal counsel, Elizabeth Slate Horn, turned down our request, filed under the Texas Public Information Act, seeking details of the separation agreement with Ms. Lott.

Ms. Horn cited all sorts of legal mumbo-jumbo to justify the agency's decision to not release the information, none of which seems to hold water.

The main reason? Housing authorities are now being "required to convert to asset-based management," which required the DHA to create an entity known as the Central Office Cost Center, she said.

So far, so good.

The cost center provides "administrative, financial, legal, personnel and development services paid from the collection of property management fees and fee-for-services charged to federally subsidized properties."

Got that?

Good, because she concludes by saying, "Fee income received by the COCC is not 'program income'…and, therefore, cannot be characterized as public funds."

So get lost, John Q. Public.

Sounds to me like she's fishing. Better yet, she's circling the wagons, trying to stave off more bad news for an agency raked over the coals in recent months. I feel the pain.

But hey, that's what happens when a federal audit reveals that you've spent nearly $20 million in questionable rental assistance, including payments to dozens of dead people. Folks notice.

But pulling the covers over your head and the wool over the public's eyes is not the way to respond. Sends the wrong message, like you may be hiding something.

Luckily, Ms. Culbreath gets that – which is why she stuck her neck out and coughed up a copy of the separation agreement that the agency's legal counsel said we shouldn't have.

"It's nothing to be nervous about," Ms. Culbreath said. "I know why they're doing it and I don't blame them."

Well, I do.

If the DHA is going to restore public confidence in itself, it must be open and above board in its dealings, from top to bottom.

Even if that means taking a few lumps along the way.