Herbert “Herbie” Rohloff wasn’t expected to live to 53 years old.
He
was born with Down syndrome, and doctors said they did not think
Rohloff would survive past his second birthday, according to relatives.
As a teen, he wasn’t expected to make it to adulthood. As he reached
middle age, his brother worried that the biggest threat to his life was
the busy intersection outside his group home in the West Rogers Park
neighborhood.
But his family never thought his life would end violently. Last
October, a fight with another resident over Halloween candy turned
physical, and
two weeks later Herbert Rohloff was dead.
Chicago police closed the homicide case by exception, meaning
detectives know who committed the killing but aren’t pursuing charges
because of the person’s mental capacity, said Anthony Guglielmi,
spokesman for the department, in an email. The Cook County state’s
attorney’s office declined to comment.
The homicide case, among
hundreds in Chicago last year, was complicated from the start because of
the suspect’s intellectual disabilities. The legal community has
discussed for years how to mete out justice in such cases. Now an
approach known as an individualized justice plan is gaining some
traction as a way to hold people with intellectual disabilities
accountable while providing alternatives to traditional forms of
punishment. Last year, Illinois lawmakers agreed to create a task force
to look at the issue.
Charging
people with intellectual disabilities can be complex because it’s
unclear whether they could formulate the intent to kill, said Hugh
Mundy, an associate professor at the John Marshall Law School.
“Every
criminal (offense), or virtually every criminal offense, required a
mental state in order to prove the element,” Mundy said. “It’s not just
the act itself.”
Rohloff’s brother, Michael, and his
sister-in-law, Maria, have been grappling with who should be held
accountable. They described him as someone who liked to eat fried
chicken, listen to Prince and watch “Rocky” movies. They’ve filed a
wrongful death lawsuit against Lutheran Social Services of Illinois, the
organization that runs the group home where Herbert Rohloff spent his
entire adult life.
“You know, I don’t think it serves a purpose
for (the person of interest) to be put in jail because he will not
understand,” Maria Rohloff said. “But he needs to be put where he can’t
hurt anyone else.”
‘Killed over a candy bar’
Last November,
Michael Rohloff got a call from his mother telling him Herbert Rohloff
had been hospitalized in Evanston. He found his brother struggling to
breathe, with a black eye and bruises to the head, Michael Rohloff
recalled in an interview with the Tribune.
Michael Rohloff holds a childhood photo of his
brother, Herbert, at his home in Indian Head Park. Michael said his
brother "looked just like this except with a snowy white beard" when he
was killed in 2017 by a fellow housemate at a group home. (Stacey
Wescott/Chicago Tribune)
“He looked at me, his face lit up, like it always does, and he was like, ‘Michael,’” he said.
The
last thing Herbert Rohloff told his brother was that his ribs hurt. He
would spend the next few weeks at Presence St. Francis Hospital in
Evanston, heavily sedated, before he died. He suffered his injuries Oct.
31 when another resident beat him up over Halloween candy, but he
wasn’t taken to the hospital until the next day, according to the family
and reports from Chicago police and the Cook County medical examiner’s
office.
An autopsy determined Herbert Rohloff died Nov. 16 from
complications of multiple injuries and from congestive heart failure,
according to the Cook County medical examiner’s office. He had rib
fractures and multiple injuries to his spine.
“You know, it’s ridiculous,” Michael Rohloff said. “Of
all the things, I was sitting there worried about him living too close
to Devon and Western because the traffic is hectic, and (there are) so
many strangers in the area. And you essentially get killed over a candy
bar.”
‘It’s not about pointing fingers’
There aren’t data
on how many people with intellectual developmental disabilities have
been charged with serious felonies, but The Arc, a national advocacy
organization for people with disabilities, is trying to get funding to
fill that void in research, said Leigh Ann Davis, director of its
criminal justice initiatives.
There have been cases of those with
intellectual disabilities being prosecuted for, and being victims of,
serious crimes, Davis said. That’s why it’s important for police
agencies and the courts to understand the needs of those with
disabilities, she said.
“What we’ve seen happen is that law
enforcement (officers) don’t decipher that there is a difference,
necessarily, between people with mental illnesses and intellectual
developmental disabilities, and how that’s important because they may
need to provide different services for someone or they may need a
different referral depending on what type of disability the person has,”
Davis said. “And the more that they (officers) know about the person’s
disability, the more likely they can de-escalate a situation.”
In
Illinois, advocates for those with intellectual disabilities are
working with local prosecutors to find a middle road that provides
alternatives to traditional criminal punishment. Amy Newell, executive
director for The Arc’s branch in Rockford, said the group is pushing for
courts to use personal justice plans that lay out the person’s
diagnosis, limitations and recommendations.
“It’s not about
pointing fingers, shaming people or any of that,” Newell said. “It’s
about having an open conversation and really doing what’s best and
safest for everyone.”
Last year, lawmakers created a task force to
examine how those with disabilities are confined in jails, how they are
represented in criminal cases and how police interact with them.
Michael Rohloff said he was worried about his
brother, Herbert, living near a busy Chicago intersection. His brother's
fatal beating over Halloween candy was shocking. (Stacey
Wescott/Chicago Tribune)
In Herbert Rohloff’s case, police believe a resident
of the group home caused the injuries and the person was taken to a
local psychiatric facility for treatment, said Guglielmi, the police
spokesman. Police aren’t moving forward with any criminal charges
because of the person of interest’s mental capacity, he said in an
email.
Cook County State’s Attorney Kim Foxx’s office did not return multiple requests for comment.
Mark
Heyrman, a clinical law professor at the University of Chicago Law
School, said not pursuing charges in the case was probably a wise
choice, because it would be difficult for prosecutors to secure a
conviction if they couldn’t prove the person of interest comprehended
what he did.
“He may have a limited understanding of what actually happened,” Heyrman said.
Herbert Rohloff, who had Down syndrome, was
beaten during a dispute over candy by a fellow resident of their group
home in Chicago's West Rogers Park neighborhood. (Stacey Wescott/Chicago
Tribune)
A family seeks justice
The Rohloff family suspects a worker
supervising the residents was preoccupied giving another resident a bath
when the fight unfolded, said Craig Hoffman, an attorney representing
the family. Even so, the family isn’t sure why Herbert wasn’t taken to
the hospital the same day he was injured. In the lawsuit against the
home, the family notes that Herbert Rohloff was taken to the hospital
the next day and in a private vehicle by a worker rather than in an
ambulance.
The home where Herbert Rohloff lived, in the 6200 block
of North Artesian Avenue in West Rogers Park, remains open, according
to a statement from Lutheran Social Services of Illinois. It opened in
1983, and many of the residents have lived there since then, according
to the statement.
“At Lutheran Social Services of Illinois, we
consider the people who live in our CILA (Community Integrated Living
Arrangement) homes family, so of course we mourn the loss of any of
these individuals as that of a family member,” the statement read.
“Legally, the Illinois Mental Health and Developmental Disabilities
Confidentiality Act precludes us from divulging any information on our
residents.”
The civil case remains pending, and the family expects it could take years before it’s concluded.
Holidays
and birthdays without Herbert Rohloff keep coming and going. This
summer, Michael Rohloff had the words “my favorite” tattooed on his arm
in the same font used in the “Rocky” movies.
Herbert Rohloff stopped intellectually developing when he was 5, and
he couldn’t express himself beyond simple sentences. “My favorite” was
something Michael Rohloff often heard his brother say, and “Rocky” was
one of Herbert’s favorite movies.
Michael Rohloff also has found himself regularly wearing the T-shirt that he wore to the hospital the day his brother died.
“It’s
odd what you connect and stay with,” he said as he teared up. “I was
wearing this shirt when he passed, and I was just saying today, ‘I’m
never going to get rid of this shirt.’”
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Man's death at group home illustrates challenges of meting out justice when suspect has intellectual disability