Monday, November 04, 2002

BY SUSAN K. LIVIO AND TED SHERMAN
Star-Ledger Staff

When Richard Fort was found bloodied and beaten under his bed at a South Jersey institution for the mentally retarded, investigators didn't need to look far.

Fort's roommate at the New Lisbon Developmental Center, 26-year-old Ronald Watts, admitted to the beating after police found his blood-stained sneakers in the closet of the bedroom where both men lived.

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The real mystery was how Watts -- who spent time in two state psychiatric hospitals, had a history of assault and had been diagnosed with "intermittent explosive disorder" -- was permitted to share a room with anyone at all.

Advocates for the mentally retarded say the homicide at New Lisbon last year represented the worst-case scenario of what can happen when disabled people with aggressive tendencies live in close quarters with others least able to protect themselves.

It's a volatile combination.

"There are assaults every day," said Joseph Young, deputy director of New Jersey Protection and Advocacy, Inc., a legal watchdog agency for the disabled.

Critics say the problems are three-fold: the state does not know who is dangerous; residents of the state institutions live in crowded, difficult-to-manage conditions; pervasive staffing shortages make supervision impossible at times.

In response, state officials said they are committing significant resources to address staffing problems at New Lisbon, one of seven such centers that 3,300 people with autism, spina bifida, mental retardation and other developmental disabilities call home. Human Services Commissioner Gwendolyn L. Harris said she intends to hire enough people so the daily ratio at the institutions is one staffer for every four residents, half the current daytime ratio.

New Jersey has also spent $1.2 million for a team of consultants to assess the treatment for about two-thirds of the 579 people living at New Lisbon. In addition, the state spent $500,000 to assign nine psychologists there and is setting up a victim's counseling program.

Overall, the number of violent attacks reported at the state developmental centers has been climbing. An examination of state records found reported assaults more than doubled in the past five years, to 275 such cases in 2001. New Lisbon, where Fort was killed, had 1,100 reported episodes of assault, abuse and suicide attempts since 1995 -- more than any other institution in the state.

Officials explain that more residents at New Lisbon have behavioral problems, and are more likely to hurt themselves or others. They attribute the higher numbers to better reporting and staff training.

Yet the federal Centers for Medicare and Medicaid Services, which funds and inspects the institutions has come down hard on New Jersey over the past year, finding that the state failed to thoroughly assess the behavioral problems of residents.

In one strongly worded admonition in a June report, inspectors found that New Lisbon in particular "failed to comply with the most fundamental protection and failed to take the necessary steps to protect these clients."

In the case of Fort, the warning signs seemed all too clear. The 46-year-old man, who had suffered a severe brain injury in a car accident, lived peacefully at New Lisbon until he was paired with a roommate with a long history of menacing behavior.

The roommate, Watts, had showed signs of aggression as a child, according to state records obtained from the Burlington County prosecutor's office. Diagnosed with mild retardation, he would later spend time at Marlboro Psychiatric Hospital until he assaulted an employee there. The incident led to his transfer to the Ann Klein Forensic Center in Trenton for the criminally insane. Six years ago, psychiatrists declared he would be better off in a state developmental center. He went to New Lisbon.

In the early morning hours of Jan. 12, 2001, Watts savagely beat Fort, apparently in retaliation for a punch thrown a day earlier. Fort never regained consciousness. He died two weeks later.

Watts has been found incompetent to stand trial. Ginny Taylor, Fort's cousin and guardian, can accept that fact. What she can't forgive is that the state put her cousin with someone it knew to be violent.

"The boy (Watts) doesn't understand why he is being punished. We feel bad for his family," said Taylor. "But my main concern is that justice be done -- that this never happen to another defenseless person again."

ANOTHER DEATH

Norman Alfred Gifford, known to friends and family as Al, was defenseless. He had lived in institutions most of his life. From a recent picture, he looked far younger than his 28 years. A nervous sort who was guarded around strangers, he liked to stay in his room listening to Hank Williams Sr. records. He didn't venture out into the outside world all that often, except to see his family.

When it was time to drive him back to New Lisbon after a visit, his uncle, Chris Johnson of Dorchester, recalled: "He would get so upset. It would tear everybody apart."

He did not like New Lisbon. "He told me he didn't feel safe," said Grace Ostling, Gifford's grandmother and guardian.

Gifford lived in Grass Cottage, a locked residential dorm typically reserved for people with behavioral problems. State records show more injuries, accidents, assaults and other incidents are reported there than any other residential unit at New Lisbon.

For months, Gifford's family worked to get him transferred from New Lisbon to the Woodbine Developmental Center, not far from where they lived. Woodbine would be more like a home-coming. Gifford had lived there as a child. His uncle, Chris Johnson, works there, so a familiar face would always be near.

They nearly succeeded. On Oct. 30, 2001, the morning Al Gifford was finally scheduled to leave, staff workers opened the light-blue metal door to his room at Grass Cottage and found his lifeless body in bed. An autopsy would reveal he had been strangled.

Frank Lippincott, 37, another resident of Grass Cottage, was arrested in connection with Gifford's death.

Lippincott, who has lived in various state developmental centers for the last 22 years, also had a background of violence. According to court records, he was found guilty of assault in 1994, and then again in 1996. In March 1998, the Burlington County prosecutor indicted him for setting a fire. He was serving his five-year probationary sentence at New Lisbon. Since Gifford's death, he has been in the Burlington County Jail, awaiting a competency hearing.

VIOLENT MIX

The two homicides and two other accidental deaths at New Lisbon prompted a federal investigation that has forced New Jersey to re-examine its mix of supervision, protection and freedom for people at the seven developmental centers. Separately, the Justice Department is investigating the living conditions in the cottages at New Lisbon to determine if the civil rights of any residents there have been violated.

Records show that younger and more violent people -- who also happen to be retarded -- are coming through the criminal courts into institutions like New Lisbon. An analysis done by the state's non-partisan Office of Legislative Services in May found that judges are sentencing mentally retarded felons to developmental centers for fear they would be targets for abuse in state prisons.

Between 1999 and 2001, judges ordered at least 10 offenders -- whose crimes included homicide and drug possession -- into state institutions, according to the Department of Human Services. Six were sent to a jail-like facility at New Lisbon known as the Moderate Security Unit.

Other prisoners move directly from county jails into the dorm-like "cottages."

The danger, say advocates for the developmentally disabled, is that the institutions themselves continue to crowd too many people together, creating the potential for violence even among those without behavioral problems. The cottages typically house 32 individuals, in many cases four to a room. In contrast, a typical developmental center in other parts of the country often holds just 18 people.

"My concern is there are too many people at the cottages," said Young, arguing there is little guarantee of safety in facilities with sizable populations. "De-population is the goal, they say, and some of the cottage numbers are coming down by two, three or four. Our goal would be closer to a 50 percent reduction."

Young would also like to see more staff. The ratio of workers who deal directly with residents -- washing and feeding and helping them dress -- is on average one worker to eight clients at the developmental centers, but the ratio falls to just one staff member for every 16 residents during the overnight shift and frequently on weekends, according to some employees.

At times, staffing has been so short that workers have been forced to lock cottage doors -- a federal violation that was repeatedly cited by the Centers for Medicare and Medicaid.

JUST NOT ENOUGH

Kathy Wigfield, whose son is living at New Lisbon, has experienced problems with staffing first-hand. She said her 35-year-old son, whom she declined to identify to protect his privacy, "used to feel terrified because the staff sleeps at night. He felt scared -- things went on."

At the same time, she said the direct care staff is not trained to deal with people with behavioral problems. Wigfield knows her son has serious problems -- coping with mental illness as well as a developmental disability. He has started fires and now faces arson charges as well. But the Rutherford single mother said she has only seen him slip deeper into trouble at the state institution.

"Before I die I want him to be in a place suited for his needs," she said. "I am not asking for something horrendously unreasonable, just not a facility like New Lisbon."

New Lisbon acting CEO Jeff Schroeder has the authority this year to hire 275 workers who deal directly with the clients, and 232 had been hired as of Sept. 6, according to spokeswoman Pam Ronan. Schroeder was candid about the difficulty of managing so many people, widely spread throughout the 18 residential buildings on the 60-acre campus, in a 24-hour operation.

"We still find staff sleeping. If you think everything is going smooth and everyone's alert, you're just deluding yourself," he remarked during a recent tour of the facility.

Last month, on what would have been Norman "Al" Gifford's 29th birthday, his family came to his grave to plant flowers and reminisce about his hearty appetite, his love for music, and his heart-stealing smile.

"Al may have lived his life in an institution. But his life had great value to us," said his aunt, Karen Johnson, her eyes rimmed with tears as she stood by a stone grave marker engraved with a treble clef symbol for the music he loved.

Back at New Lisbon, Schroeder said they mourn the tragic loss of both Gifford and Richard Fort.

"In either case," he said, "we never saw it coming."

Tomorrow: Group homes.