Ronnie Mich woke up at 6:30 a.m. Tuesday in the familiar surroundings he'd known for all his 61 years.

It was moving day at 195 Carlisle Rd. in Audubon, but the autistic man didn't fully grasp the cascade of events - the deception and the generosity - that led to this moment.

Ronnie looked in his small closet filled with shirts and slacks lined up neatly on wire hangers and picked out a pair of green trousers. On the door was a collection of neckties, each one tied by his father before his death nearly three years ago.

He needed every item in the room to be in its place. His pillow had to be centered on his double bed, a reminder to sleep in the middle, not too close to the edge.

Stuffed animals and the board games he loves playing sat on the bureau, and pictures of horses, dogs and cats adorned the walls. A sign on his door said, "Ronnie's Room."

Like the rest of the modest house, his bedroom was a 1950s time capsule, part of the ordered haven where he was supposed to live out his days.

His father, Stanley Mich, had seen to that. He'd worked hard and lived frugally, amassing $1.2 million - enough to provide for his son's 24-hour care.

But now, with that money gone - allegedly stolen by the executor of the estate - and the house sold to pay off mounting debts, Ronnie was moving to a home for seniors with disabilities.

His neighbors and longtime friends, George and Elaine Stone, and caretaker Amanda Bramble helped him through the final hours, trying to calm his fears.

"Are they going to like me there?" asked Ronnie, slowly and softly pronouncing each syllable. "Are you going to visit me?"

At 7 a.m., he sat down for breakfast for the last time at a 50-year-old Formica-and-chrome table in the kitchen of his two-story home. His meal was the same as always: Wheaties, orange juice and coffee.

"He doesn't want to leave, but he has no choice," said George Stone, 58, who grew up with Ronnie on the block and was the driving force in a community effort to rescue him when his plight became known in May.

"What we have to do will be a shock to him. He understands he has to leave, but I don't think it's sunk in."

In a few hours, Ronnie would walk out the door, leaving everything he's ever known - the home his grandparents built nearly 100 years ago and his father bequeathed to him.

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Stanley Mich lived for Ronnie, his only child.

When his wife, Ethel, died in the 1950s, Stanley focused completely on the welfare of his son, then about 12.

He saved wages from his routes selling newspapers and potato chips and candies, and happily watched his wife's telephone stock skyrocket.

By the time Stanley was in his late 80s, he thought his son's future was set.

He sought the help of lawyer Dennis O'Brien, a fellow parishioner at St. Rose of Lima Roman Catholic Church in Haddon Heights.

O'Brien, who was Ronnie's age, had an office a few blocks from the Mich house and often bought large numbers of charity raffle tickets from Ronnie, who sold thousands in the neighborhood over the years.

Before Stanley died of cancer in September 2000, he named O'Brien executor of his estate and guardian to Ronnie.

Stanley didn't know that the lawyer had been disbarred in 1999 and placed on five years' probation for misappropriating thousands of dollars entrusted to him by clients.

Two years after Stanley's death, Elaine Stone became suspicious about O'Brien's handling of the estate after spotting a $5,000 property-tax-delinquency notice posted at a local bank.

O'Brien was supposed to have been paying the bills. On May 2, he was arrested.

Of the $1.2 million, all that remained was $163, said the new executor of the Mich estate, Charles Thompson, a family friend and Elaine's brother.

O'Brien was charged with money laundering and theft in the alleged embezzlement of more than $1.5 million from six estates, including Mich's.

The Camden County prosecutor's complaint described him as a "marauder" and "manipulative, cunning individual" who preyed on the elderly.

O'Brien is being held without bond in the Camden County Correctional Facility and faces a parole-violation hearing Friday.

O'Brien's attorney, Robert Agre, was on vacation and unavailable for comment.

About 35 people, including members of O'Brien's church, have contacted prosecutors, saying they believe they also have been victimized. The losses may exceed $3 million, authorities said.

But Ronnie Mich lost much more than money. He was about to lose his heritage - and the comforting routine that had sustained him.

• 

At 8 a.m., Ronnie was shaving as he did every morning about that time.

But this day would also find the Stones packing his belongings in the adjacent bedroom.

Carried away to a station wagon were clothes, stuffed animals and games. Down came the neatly hung ties, slacks, shirts and suits.

Bits and pieces of Ronnie's carefully ordered life were slowly unraveling.

After he finished washing, the college student working as his caretaker decided to distract him from the move.

Bramble, 18, picked up a musical stuffed animal that played the "Macarena," and the two of them danced.

"That's fun," said Ronnie, giving her a kiss and laughing. "I could do that all day."

With the station wagon nearly filled, Ronnie sat in his favorite living-room chair, for the last time, the one with floral upholstery and an afghan draped over the back.

The chair faced away from a television that he never watched. "Too many sad things on there," said Ronnie, who preferred playing cards and board games with friends.

But there wasn't time for games Tuesday - only words of assurance.

The Stones and Thompson had worked literally day and night toward this moment for two months. They wanted the transition to be as stress-free as possible since Ronnie was vulnerable to seizures.

"He'll start making a clicking sound with his mouth when he starts getting upset," said George Stone.

His face flushes and he begins speaking at a faster clip. "Then, we talk about something happy to get his mind off the problem," Stone said.

The big items from "Ronnie's Room" - the bed and bureau - wouldn't be moved until Ronnie drove off with the Stones and his friend Paul, his longtime game-playing companion.

"Do you have the air-conditioning on in the car?" Ronnie asked George Stone. "I like the cold."

• 

Along with his father, the constants in Ronnie's life have been George and Elaine Stone.

George, a retired firefighter, has lived his whole life two doors away from the Mich family. As a boy, he played ball with Ronnie in the front yard.

Elaine, a retired hospital supervisor, lived next door to the Michs for decades before marrying George three years ago.

Both had admired Stanley's commitment to his son.

"There was a man who never took a vacation, never did anything that didn't revolve around his son. He dedicated his whole life to him," said George Stone who, with Elaine, runs ENOTS, a home-design company.

Stanley asked George in 1999 if he would take care of Ronnie when he was gone. At the time, the Stones were caring for George's mother, who had Alzheimer's disease, and couldn't promise to take on more responsibility.

But with George's mother dying in April and Ronnie's financial devastation revealed in May, the Stones faced a decision.

Should they step in to help Ronnie? Could they handle the long hours and expenses? They decided they couldn't walk away.

Over two months, the Stones say, they spent more than $17,000 of their own money for Ronnie's 24-hour care, which runs more than $2,500 a week, and became caretakers themselves, sometimes sleeping at the house.

They shopped, cooked, dealt with lawyers and doctors, took him bowling with his friends, and found him a place to live.

"It's turned our lives upside down," said George Stone. "It's constant."

Elaine, 57, cared for Ronnie between doctor's appointments for neck injuries she received when her car was struck by a drunken driver two years ago.

"I won't show the emotion until it's over," she said as she packed the car. "Ronnie started to tear up Monday and I said, 'Ronnie, please don't cry. Everything will be exactly the way it was in a different place.' "

Thompson, 51, the new executor, also has sacrificed his time, meeting with lawyers, paying bills, and sometimes taking the night caretaking shift.

"I admired Stanley," said Thompson, of Oaklyn, a maintenance employee for the Haddonfield School District, who often helped Stanley with yard work and painting.

"He was from the old school. He believed in hard work, making a buck stretch. He saved for Ronnie, he fought the fight and thought he had everything taken care of."

• 

At 10:10 a.m., Ronnie stepped carefully down the front stairs of his home, holdings hands with Bramble.

He got into the front seat of the packed station wagon. George Stone sat behind the wheel, and Elaine got in the back with Ronnie's friend, Paul.

From the car, Ronnie waved at Bramble.

"All right, I'll see you soon, Ron," she said, holding some roses from the Mich garden. She had promised she'd visit.

As Stone pulled away, Ronnie didn't look back.

• 

The theft of Stanley Mich's estate - and its impact on his son - stunned and angered the close-knit family community of bungalows and Cape Cods.

Stanley had been generous to many; Ronnie was a beloved figure who had come to their doors selling raffle tickets and greeted them by name.

Now, they were raising money for Ronnie.

"Stanley Mich did a lot for my family," said Christine Van Leir, 38, who lives in her grandparents' former house near the Mich's. "My great-uncle lived here and was blind. Stanley arranged to have a priest come in on Wednesdays to have communion for him... . Anything I can do to help, I will."

Van Leir and neighbor Nick Bozza, 37, are planning a block party to benefit Ronnie next Saturday with a dunking tank, food and clowns.

"It bothers me that something like this was done to a person of Ronnie's condition," Van Leir said. "To be blunt, it pisses me off. I was spitting fire when I found out, I was so mad. It was like stealing candy from a kid."

Bozza said he was outraged "that anybody could be so cold-hearted. Ronnie can't understand why he has to leave when his father promised he could stay there."

George Stone said lawyers, doctors and businesses, including Wawa, Equity Bank, Bruno's Italian restaurant in Audubon, and the Crystal Lake Diner, also contributed time or money. St. Rose of Lima Church and Santa Maria Council of the Knights of Columbus collected thousands of dollars more.

The funds will help pay for back taxes, legal bills and Ronnie's personal expenses.

Taxpayers will pick up the cost of Ronnie's care - more than $1,000 a week - at the home for seniors with disabilities.

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At 10:30 a.m., the station wagon pulled into the sweeping driveway of the Judith B. Flicker Residences in Voorhees, and Ronnie cautiously stepped out.

Frank Ward, a spokesman for Bancroft NeuroHealth, which operates Flicker, calls it "the happiest place on Earth." Besides apartments with a homey touch, there's a greenhouse, a swimming pool, a garden, a library - and a day-program room for board and card games.

But Ronnie, sitting in the lobby, not far from a stone fireplace, had only questions:

Would he be able to see his friends, play games, go bowling, and get to summer camp?

After lunch, while Ronnie and Paul played dominoes in the library, George Stone and neighbor Mike Slattery moved furniture into his new apartment - a single bedroom with a small kitchen area, a bathroom and closets.

Then, they waited for Ronnie's reaction.

As their friend shuffled into his room, tears welled up. He dabbed his eyes with a tissue.

"Can Paul stay with me overnight?" Ronnie asked, his eyes now red and wet.

Case manager Miriam Kroon told him friends couldn't stay over but could visit anytime.

Ronnie then noticed familiar sights: his bed, his bureau, his stuffed animals, his games: Monopoly, Flinch, Parchese. His cross was hung on the wall.

Ronnie sat on the bed. The pillow had been centered just the way he liked it.