My Dad’s Last Day in Court

Watching a parent’s mind slip away from dementia is difficult in any circumstance. It’s even harder when your father is a lifelong lawyer who insists he has one final case to win.

By Andrew Bloomenthal 

The earliest signs of my father’s cognitive slip dovetailed with his retirement. He’d somehow managed to keep it together for his clients until his very last day practicing personal injury law, and thankfully, none of them suffered because of his condition. When the day came for my mom and I to help Dad shutter his office on Congress Street in Boston, crating and cataloging his case files, we were both emotional. Not just because of the years of sweat equity that this mountain of paperwork represented, but also because of the faint unease we were feeling over Dad’s occasional loss of words.

We didn’t discuss this aloud that day, nor during the first year of his retirement. To do so would have made it seem real, and frankly, we weren’t ready for that. After all, while his mild tremors were expected in someone who had been diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease some years before, his mental decline, the neurologist said, was statistically rare. What’s more, Dad functioned reasonably well that first year. He kept busy volunteering at the VA Medical Center in Jamaica Plain, where he doled out bottles of water and ambushed patients with dad jokes. His favorite: “A termite walks into a pub and asks, ‘Is the bar tender here?’” He invariably supplied his own “yuk-yuks” lest the punchline fail to land quick enough. Even when his delivery of these jokes started sounding rehearsed, as though he was clinging to a script, Mom and I told ourselves that maybe Dad’s behavioral shift was a temporary manifestation of stress triggered by his newfound retirement.

That hopeful theory was debunked after a brain specialist administered a series of tests that determined Dad’s cognitive deficit was indeed real. And while some medications could purportedly help improve acuity, there were no reliable methods of predicting his decline or halting its progression.

The full weight of this diagnosis didn’t hit me for a few days. I was in Manhattan, where I’d moved after college for a job as a financial journalist and later to pursue screenwriting. As I clacked away at my keyboard one morning, I was suddenly floored by the notion that every day would entail readjusting to Dad’s evolving new normal.

In the weeks that followed, even as my dad had many lucid days, I felt as though I was freefalling in preemptive grief and then felt guilty over my childish inability to stay strong for my dad. I started coming home to Boston a lot more often. Burned forever in my psyche are the blue abstract-patterned seat covers on the Fung Wah bus, which semi-reliably delivered me from Canal Street in Manhattan to South Station in Boston for $10 each way until the company shuttered. It was not a bad deal while it lasted.

On one of these visits, about a year after closing his office, I landed in Hull, where our family had summered for generations. Thanks to the punishing August heat wave that greeted my arrival, I slept in the cooler room with the cross-breeze. That’s where Mom shook me awake one morning. “Dad says he’s due in court today,” she said, sounding calmer than her hectic expression gave away. “He says he’s scheduled for trial, so I’m taking him into Boston. Coffee’s made.”

“Um…I’m sorry, you’re doing WHAT?” I responded. I was still groggy, but that wasn’t the only reason it took a moment to register.

“He mentioned something about this last night. I thought he was kidding. But now I’m not so sure.”

That’s the funny thing about the mercurial nature of his condition. Some days, he was credible. Other days, less so. Still, he’d been retired for more than a year—a fact I reminded Mom of as if she weren’t acutely aware.

“Well, yes, I know he’s retired, honey,” she said. “But he’s not taking ‘no’ for an answer. Look, if I don’t take him, he’ll drive himself, and I won’t let that happen, okay?”

Just then, Dad blustered in.

“Guys, let’s went!” he commanded, defaulting to one of his pet phrases.

I eyeballed the briefcase in his hand. I could tell by the way he swung it that it was empty. And in that moment, I went in for what I thought would be an easy remedial lay-up.

“Dad, I’m pretty sure you don’t have a trial today,” I asserted.

“And just how would you know that?” he challenged.

“I know because…because the courthouse called. They said your case was settled. Don’t you remember?”

I suddenly felt queasy. Did I really just try to gaslight the man who told me when I was young that all he ever expected from me was to earn good grades and tell the truth?

“Who’d you talk to? From the courthouse. I need a name!” he insisted.

“Um…Susan. Her name was Susan.”

Somehow, the specificity of that fictitious moniker tasted acrid as it rolled off my tongue. Whether or not he believed me hardly mattered.

“Oh yeah? What was her last name?” Dad asked.

I briefly considered doubling down with yet more invention. But I simply couldn’t.

“I forgot to ask,” was all I could muster.

“Let me tell you something,” he fumed. “If someone left a message for you, I’d have taken it correctly!”

And he would have, too. He was nothing if not responsible. And although he was in high dudgeon on that frantic morning, his baseline persona was that of lovable goofball. He once wore a dashiki to synagogue—just because. Mom was naturally horrified until the positive reviews came trickling in.

What else can I say about Dad? He jogged for exercise before that was even a thing. He was a virtuoso on the piano, with an uncanny ability to re-create any song after hearing it once. Festive dinner-party singalongs were a matter of course. He loved courtroom movies like My Cousin Vinny and The Verdict. But To Kill a Mockingbird was his hands-down favorite. He shared Atticus Finch’s progressive ideals but was too humble to ever compare himself to that lawyer.

Don’t get me wrong—life with Dad was not Leave It to Beaver. We bickered constantly, like it was our job. But that was mainly due to garden-variety friction between a son and his exasperatingly doting father—all the more reason I wish I exhibited more patience during the era of his decline. Then again, Mom held enough patience for us all.

“Okay,” she reassuringly said that fateful morning. “Let’s get you to court.”

Andrew, Sharon, and Leslie Bloomenthal on Newbury Street years ago. / Courtesy Andrew Bloomenthal

As the three of us barreled the minivan down Route 3A—Mom driving, Dad riding shotgun, me perched behind him—Mom and I traded uncertain glances in the rear-view mirror. Our thought bubbles screamed, Just what the holy fuck are we doing? but offered no answers. Other times, we actively stifled laughter over the sheer absurdity of the situation. I mean, it wasn’t exactly unfunny.

Somewhere in Quincy, Mom inventoried Dad’s T-shirt and denim shorts—hardly appropriate courtroom attire for the man who once donned three-piece suits and meticulously blew out his helmet of rusty red hair each morning. After veering off the road and pulling into the nearest Goodwill thrift store, it took Mom mere minutes to harvest a dress shirt, khaki pants, and a perfectly fitting size 38 Pierre Balmain blazer. At the very least, Dad looked the part as we pulled into Boston’s Moakley federal courthouse parking lot some 20 minutes later.

By then, the temperature had surged past 100 degrees outside—this during an era when such extreme weather was considered remarkable. But in that moment, our frustration was dominated by the complete lack of available parking spaces and Dad’s growing agitation with every fruitless pass around the property. Our only solution was to double park by the courthouse entrance, with one of us staying behind with the vehicle. Deciding which one of us would escort Dad inside was a no-brainer. After all, Mom had already done more than her share of heavy lifting.

Standing outside the car, I straightened Dad’s lapel. “Ready, old man?” I asked.

“Let’s do it.”

A gush of cold air welcomed us as we stepped inside the courthouse—two men without a plan. A guard instructed me to surrender my cell phone to a lady in a blue blazer behind the front desk. I opened my mouth to explain my unique need for keeping it handy before realizing how this security mandate offered me the perfect alibi to conduct some much-needed recon, away from Dad’s listening ears. After Blazer Lady deposited my phone into the beehive of cubbies behind her and handed me the corresponding chit, I asked her to check if my dad had a case that morning. Although I hadn’t any reason to expect another outcome, I was no less despondent to learn her search came up empty.

I didn’t have the heart to tell him he had no case on the docket. Not when my earlier attempt to quell his confusion went so poorly. Besides, his altered brain invented this return-to-work scenario for a reason. Leaning into his fantasy was the only humane path forward.

“So, Dad, it looks like we have some time to breathe before your trial begins,” I improvised. “Wanna peek in on another case while we wait?”

He endorsed this plan with a smile, oblivious that it was a mere stall tactic.

Our randomly chosen courtroom was packed, save for two serendipitously vacant seats, front-row center. As we slid into the pew, I immediately recognized the shackled defendant sitting just feet in front of us. This infamous murderer made national headlines a few years back and had re-entered the news cycle during his latest appeal. I had seen an item about him on TV the night before. There he was in the flesh—just one more unexpected wrinkle in an already surreal day.

Dad sat mesmerized as the killer’s attorney went to work, arguing how his client would have surely walked free had certain exculpatory evidence been allowed. I shifted my gaze to the judge. His stoic face gave away nothing, but somehow, I could tell he was cataloging every word. Watching him gave me an idea.

“Hey Dad, I gotta go take a leak,” I whispered.

“Do your thing,” he whispered back.

I found my way to an administrative office and approached the clerk behind the glass.

“Can I help you?” he said, smiling gently.

And that was it. Those four small words unleashed a deluge. Through halted breaths, I explained how my dad—a once prominent attorney—now suffers from Parkinson’s-related dementia. How the man who once frequented these halls is back on the scene for a phantom case. And how I couldn’t disabuse him of this notion—even if I tried.

The clerk nodded as I continued.

“…And so, I was wondering: Is there any way a judge can talk to him in chambers? You know—maybe give him an ‘attaboy’ for his contribution?”

After my pitch ended, the clerk sat silent for several moments—long enough for me to suddenly feel utterly humiliated. Did I really just ask this unsuspecting civil servant to broker a kumbaya moment between my dad and a federal judge—any judge’ll do?

“You know what? Scratch that,” I said before turning and walking away.

“Young man, come back here, please,” the clerk said before telling me his plan.

Back inside the courtroom, I sidled up to Dad and whispered into his ear: “Dad, come with me. Someone wants to talk to you.”

The author, holding a photo of his father. / Photo by Ethan Gulley

As I led my dad toward him, the clerk lit up, his eyes widening theatrically.

“Counsel! It’s great to see you again!” he gushed.

“And you as well!” Dad replied. Whether there was true recognition on either side of that counter was irrelevant.

“Counsel, I just wanted to tell you that today’s your lucky day.”

“Oh, really?”

“Very much. Because I just spoke to the judge. And he told me that your case has been resolved in your favor.”

“It…it has?” Dad said through a widening smile.

“Oh, yes. And His Honor also told me he’s never seen such airtight pretrial motions in his entire career on the bench!”

Dad beamed for several moments before his critical brain intervened—even then.

“Wait a minute. But what about…”

“An appeal? Can’t happen. You won. And if I may add, it’s been an honor sharing these halls with you over the years,” said the clerk without a hint of condescension. Although his patchwork legalese might not have held up to later scrutiny, at that moment, it was good enough for Dad, who extended his hand.

“The honor is mine.”

Leaning against the minivan—sweat dripping from her forehead—Mom did a bona fide double take when she saw us levitating toward her, twin smiles plastered across our faces.

“What the hell happened in there, you guys?” she asked as we got closer.

“Sharon, we won!” Dad gushed.

She looked at me, tacitly soliciting further explanation.

“Tell you later,” I volunteered. “There’s something I need to do first.”

Back inside the courthouse, I advanced to the clerk for the third time that day.

“Sir, I don’t know how I can possibly—”

“Say no more,” he interrupted. “You know, my father went through something similar. It won’t be easy, but you’ll get through it. He’s lucky to have you.”

The intervening years were indeed hard, filled with difficult decisions like seizing my dad’s car keys and his autonomy in one fell swoop. But there were also bright spots. Dad could still tickle the ivories, to name one. Even if his fingers were slightly hesitant on the piano keys, it didn’t hinder singalongs one bit. Dad also got to meet Luis, my far better half, and the two of them got on like gangbusters. Can’t put a price on that.

When Dad’s physical struggles eventually required intervention, we placed him in an assisted living facility located within walking distance from Mom’s Brookline apartment, giving her the well-earned opportunity to trade in her role as de facto caretaker for one she much preferred: loving wife. As such, she damn sure secured the coveted corner apartment at the far end of the dementia floor with a double exposure that let in more sunlight than all the other units. The revolving door of friends popping by lent even more warmth to the space. And high on the wall hung a charcoal sketch of our old house in Sudbury, positioned next to the aspirational words Mom stenciled beneath the molding. Live. Breathe. Dream. Still, the room’s focal point belonged to the engraved nameplate sitting on the coffee table—the same one that lived on Dad’s office desk for more than four decades: “Leslie Bloomenthal: Attorney at Law.”

Before my dad’s passing, he regarded his nameplate often, especially when reminiscing about the magical day he kicked butt in court one last time.

On September 5, 2015, Dad died. He was 75. But in the years before his passing, he regarded his nameplate often, especially when reminiscing about the magical day he kicked butt in court one last time. Because in his mind, it really happened. And that’s as valid as anything.

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My Dad’s Last Day in Court

Guardianship Law Update: Stricter Pennsylvania Guardianship Laws under Act 61 to Take Effect in June

Written by:  Latisha Bernard Schuenemann and  Paul W. Minnich

Guardianships are an important legal mechanism to ensure that individuals with cognitive impairment have a representative who can handle their affairs and make decisions in their best interests. Due to an increasingly aging population and other societal factors, the need for court-ordered guardians has increased in frequency. However, concerns have arisen as to whether there are sufficient safeguards to protect individuals going through the guardianship process. As a result, on December 14, 2023, Senate Bill 506 was signed into law as Act 61 (the “Act”) by Governor Josh Shapiro. It will take effect next month on June 11, 2024.

The Act has four major amendments to Title 20 of Decedents, Estates and Fiduciaries (the Pennsylvania “PEF Code”) relating to incapacitated individuals including provisions: (1) requiring mandatory appointment of legal counsel for the alleged incapacitated individual; (2) consideration of less restrictive alternatives to guardianship; (3) certifications for court appointed guardians; and (4) required review hearings of the guardianship.

Mandatory Legal Representation of the Alleged Incapacitated Individual
The Act now mandates that all alleged incapacitated individuals must have legal representation throughout the guardianship proceedings, whether through their own counsel or court-appointed counsel. It requires that the petitioner inform the Court of any counsel the alleged incapacitated person may have at the time of the filing of the guardianship petition. If the alleged incapacitated individual hasn’t retained counsel in any matter pertaining to the guardianship, the Court must appoint qualified counsel to represent them. The appointed counsel is required to file a certification with the Court indicating the time and place of meeting with the alleged incapacitated person. The Act requires appointed counsel be qualified by experience or training and should advocate for the individual’s expressed wishes and instructions to the extent possible. This requirement of counsel extends through all stages of the guardianship proceedings including any review hearings. In addition, the Act provides if the Court deems a guardian ad litem necessary, a second attorney will be appointed for this role.

Exploration of Less Restrictive Alternatives
While it was always a consideration of the Courts, the Act now requires Courts to make specific findings of fact regarding whether there are less restrictive alternatives available. The less restrictive alternatives to be considered include advanced directives, living wills, powers of attorney, trusts/special need trusts, representative payees for individuals receiving Social Security benefits, Pennsylvania Achieving a Better Life Experience accounts, and mental health advanced directives. The Court is required to consider the less restrictive alternative first and if there are no less restrictive alternatives available and sufficient, then the Court is to consider a limited guardianship if it is applicable in the guardianship matter.

Mandatory Certification of Guardians
Professional guardians and individuals seeking to become the guardian of three or more incapacitated individuals will be required to be certified and furnish evidence of compliance with certification requirements to the Court, prior to appointment in a third guardianship matter. The Court can waive this requirement upon demonstration that the proposed guardian has the equivalent license or certification necessary to ensure they can meet their obligations as guardian.

The Act puts the onus on the Supreme Court to develop the rules relating to the certification requirements of a guardian which will include a minimum of providing information and documentation regarding their education, employment history, and Federal and State criminal record and the passage of a certification exam administered by a national nonprofit guardianship certification organization.

Review Hearings
Prior to the Act, the PEF Code did provide that a review hearing could be requested at any time. Now the Act requires an automatic review hearing if the evidence presented during the guardianship proceeding indicates that the circumstances of the person’s incapacity may change. If the Court believes this to be the case, it must schedule a review hearing in its court order establishing the guardianship. The review hearing must be scheduled within one year from the date of the initial guardianship appointment.

During the mandatory review hearing, the incapacitated individual is to be present with their counsel, and the Court may consider any evidence presented that the incapacitated person’s condition could improve at a future time. This evidence may include, but is not limited to:

• Whether the incapacitated could be adequately managed by medication, rehabilitation or other means;
• Whether the potential exists for the incapacitated to regain physical or cognitive capacity;
• The opinion of medical professionals or other qualified experts who have personally examined the incapacitated individual; and
• The circumstances surrounding the incapacitated individuals daily living, including but not limited to, support from others.

If the Court finds the guardianship is necessary and there are no less restrictive alternatives available, the Court may order that the guardianship continue. However, the Court is required to discharge the guardianship if it finds that the guardianship is no longer necessary or the existence of less restrictive alternatives.

Act 61 represents a crucial step forward in safeguarding the rights and welfare of individuals involved in guardianship proceedings in Pennsylvania. These new provisions also introduce new complexities to the guardianship process and underscore the importance for experienced legal counsel in order to navigate these intricacies. If you have questions about Act 61 or navigating the guardianship process, please contact partner Paul M. Minnich of Barley Snyder’s Litigation Practice Group or partner Latisha Bernard Schuenemann of Barley Snyder’s Trusts & Estates Practice Group.

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Guardianship Law Update: Stricter Pennsylvania Guardianship Laws under Act 61 to Take Effect in June

Lawsuit filed against Santa Clara senior care facility

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Lawsuit filed against Santa Clara senior care facility

Rock Island Police relaunch Elderly Service Officer Program

The Elderly Service Officer Program is meant to assist people ages 60 and older, investigating elder abuse and neglect and teaching about common scams. 

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Rock Island Police relaunch Elderly Service Officer Program

Brian Wilson's Conservators Need His Kids' Blessings For Health Decisions

by Afouda Bamidele

Brian Wilson's conservators will not be taking any major life decisions behind his kids!

The court has ordered his conservators to run any healthcare-related decisions by his children for authorization as the Beach Boys member battles dementia.

Brian Wilson's family filed a petition to place the legend under a conservatorship following his wife Melinda Ledbetter's death in January.

Brian Wilson's Children Must Be Carried Along On Health Updates

The judge has charged all the singer's children (who wished) to be added to the text group with his nurses for essential updates on Wilson's health. The kids are now crucial to the singer's health decisions.

The court documents also ordered his two conservators, Jean Sievers and LeeAnn Hard, to file additional paperwork on Wilson's care plan within the next 60 days.

Sievers and Hard were nominated by Wilson's family to take over control of his affairs in February, especially after Ledbetter's passing.

On the choice of Sievers and Hard, the family noted the decision was made to avoid any "extreme changes to the household." Essentially, they didn't want Brain and his children's living situation to change.

His family added that the singer will continue to enjoy the love and presence of his loved ones. Wilson will also get to participate in any activities of his choice.

An L.A. judge authorized the family's petition to place the singer under a conservatorship. The court also allowed the two women to consent for the conservatee to receive medical treatment, per In Touch.

Inside Wilson's Court-Ordered Conservatorship

The conservators disclosed that Brian is currently under 24-hour care inside his expansive $9 million, six-bedroom, seven-bathroom, 9,353 square-foot Beverly Hills home.

Sievers and Hard shared that the singer is monitored round the clock by a nurse with well-prepared meals and proper medication administration by experts.

"[Brian] has three full-time caregivers living at his house. The caregivers have been working for [Brian] for many years, well before the commencement of these conservatorship proceedings," the court documents showed.

The filing continued that the "Conservators have also hired 3 nurses to assist Brian at his house. The three nurses have rotating schedules such that there is always a nurse at the house to care for [Brian]. With these measures in place, there is no plan or need for [Brian] to live anywhere other than his personal residence."

The 'I Get Around' Singer's Lawyer Spoke On His Living Condition

A court-appointed lawyer detailed his thoughts on the singer's living situation, noting that he was living well.

He confirmed that Wilson lived in his "impeccably well-maintained residence in Beverly Hills, California" with his "two kids, a long-term live-in caregiver, as well as other caregivers that assist him with his daily activities."

The lawyer noted that Wilson used a walker to get around the house. But, the 82-year-old received help from one of his caretakers, who helped him get in and out of the walker. Wilson's lawyer lauded his performance despite dementia, saying:

"[Brian] was "well oriented as to person, place and time, acknowledging and responding to his name, providing me with his date of birth, the time of day, and the current date."

However, he stated that Wilson was unable to provide his kids' names other than the names of the two daughters who lived in his house.

Brian Wilson's Minor Children Also Got Guardians

In May, The Blast reported that Hard also filed a request for guardianship for Wilson's minor children. She nominated a longtime friend of Wilson.

Hard stated that she and Ramos were the right fit for guardianship, as it tallied with their nominations for the role in Brian and Melinda's wills.

Both women also shared a strong bond with the children, namely Dash Tristan Wilson and Dakota Rose Wilson, who gave their blessings to the guardianship.

Brian was obviously not considered for his kids' guardianship due to his medical condition, as Hard explained that his youngest kids require "official care, custody, and control" to ensure they are well taken care of.

The Record Producer's Daughters Admired His Strength Amid Dementia

Wilson's children have shown support in many ways than one since his health battle began. Back in May, his daughters Carnie and Wendy spoke highly of him in an interview.

The Blast shared that the legend was diagnosed with a neurocognitive disorder earlier in the year, and Wendy noted that he was doing really good under his current circumstances. Wendy admired her father's resilience and strength, describing him as "very tough, a very strong person."

Her sister Carnie also shared the same sentiment and declared that Wilson "is doing great! He is doing great. Everyday he is in physical therapy. I'm cooking for him, he's spending a lot of time with his children now, his family."

Full Article & Source:
Brian Wilson's Conservators Need His Kids' Blessings For Health Decisions

See Also:
Beach Boys' Brian Wilson placed in conservatorship following dementia diagnosis

Beach Boys’ Brian Wilson Unable to Remember Children’s Names, ‘Mostly Difficult to Understand,’ Lawyer Reveals Ahead of Conservatorship Hearing 

Family sues Lafayette nursing home over elder abuse, criminal investigation underway

Family sues Lafayette nursing home over elder abuse, criminal investigation underway

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Family sues Lafayette nursing home over elder abuse, criminal investigation underway

Disabled Alaskans sue state and appointed guardian for alleged financial abuse, neglect

By Rachel Cassandra

The Office of Public Advocacy in downtown Anchorage. Their deputy director Beth Goldstein is named as a defendant in a class action lawsuit alleging the state enabled neglect, financial abuse and other harms of disabled Alaskans. (Rachel Cassandra/Alaska Public Media)

Ten disabled Alaskans are suing the state and their state-appointed guardian in a class-action lawsuit that alleges financial abuse and neglect.

Under his business Cache Integrity, Thomas McDuffie was a private guardian responsible for more than 100 state-assigned wards between 2021 and 2023. The lawsuit alleges he neglected to serve the people in his care, all of whom are disabled, elderly or ill.

The lawsuit also names top officials with the state Office of Public Advocacy and the state’s Adult Protective Services unit as defendants.

Alaska’s public guardianship program is supposed to serve the state’s most vulnerable people by, among other things, making decisions for them about finances, benefits or healthcare. The state employs some public guardians, but the program has struggled with overburdened public guardians. McDuffie was a private guardian assigned public cases because of the staffing shortage. 

According to the lawsuit, McDuffie wasn’t paying their taxes, wasn’t finding adequate housing for some, failed to enroll them for public benefits and overpaid himself for his services. The lawsuit claims he left one person in the hospital unnecessarily for a year, racking up a bill of over $615,000.

Anchorage attorney Caitlin Shortell, who represents the plaintiffs in the lawsuit, said the stories of how McDuffie failed his wards are endless. One of McDuffie’s wards was in a wheelchair and living in a condo when it flooded, leaving the floor warped and uneven, she said.

“Mr. McDuffie didn’t provide him enough food or pay his bills … and then failed to make a claim on the insurance for the flood damage, leaving this person malnourished, unable to really move around, even in his own home, and leaving him with property damage to his condominium,” Shortell said.

McDuffie also pooled his wards’ money together in a shared trust, Shortell said, and that makes unwinding the money he owes people extremely difficult.

“If you have hundreds of clients, and all of their money is pooled, how can you figure out whose money is whose?” Shortell said. “And that became much more complicated because of the lack of accurate bookkeeping and accounting.”

McDuffie is no longer a practicing guardian, as of the fall of 2023, and the state has reassigned his wards.

Reached by phone, McDuffie declined an interview request for this story.

Mary, whose last name is omitted to protect her privacy, was one of McDuffie’s wards and is a plaintiff in the lawsuit. Mary has dementia and was assigned to McDuffie in 2021.

As Mary’s guardian, McDuffie was in charge of her housing and financial decisions, which included managing her benefits. Mary’s daughter, Greta, said it quickly became clear that McDuffie was neglecting his duties.

“He did not pay any of her bills,” Greta said. “He didn’t pay her taxes. The whole time he was there, she was in debt. She had back taxes he didn’t pay.”

McDuffie took Mary out of the Anchorage Pioneer Home, a state-owned and operated assisted living facility, and put her in another facility she couldn’t afford, Greta said. Mary had insurance for long-term care, but McDuffie never billed it, Greta said.

Greta said she and her sister worked with multiple lawyers over the course of 19 months to free their mother from her guardianship and conservatorship under McDuffie. But by the time they succeeded, their mother’s health had declined severely. McDuffie didn’t schedule medical appointments for Mary or bring her to the appointments, or to occupational or physical therapy, Greta said.

“She went from walking, getting healthcare, to not getting healthcare, to not being able to walk, to being very depressed,” Greta said. “She wasn’t getting any of the medical treatment she needed.”

Mary has now moved in with Greta’s sister in Southcentral Alaska, and Greta said she’s begun walking again, is more social and her memory is improving. But Greta and her sister are now dealing with the tens of thousands of dollars of debt they said was a result of McDuffie’s mismanagement.

While the lawsuit has yet to be heard in court, the state is in the process of appointing a forensic accountant to untangle the finances of McDuffie’s former wards.

The state Office of Public Advocacy, or OPA, which runs the public guardian system, has so far been unable to help McDuffie’s former wards recover their money. All the funds McDuffie pooled are in an account that’s been frozen since early 2024.

The state is also responsible for McDuffie’s neglect as a guardian, because state employees missed or ignored signs of his failures and enabled his assignments, Shortell said.

The lawsuit names two state employees as defendants: Beth Goldstein, OPA’s deputy director, and Anthony Newman, director of the state health department’s Adult Protective Services unit.

According to the lawsuit, Goldstein did not confirm McDuffie had a relevant license, and for much of the time he was working as a guardian McDuffy didn’t have one. If Goldstein had recognized McDuffie didn’t have his license, she could’ve prevented some of the problems, Shortell said.

“Unfortunately, when it was discovered that he didn’t have a license in good standing, the licensing department of the state just retroactively granted him a license, which is really quite shocking,” Shortell said.

Goldstein also allegedly continued to refer cases to McDuffie despite evidence that he was neglecting his duties.

Adult Protective Services, run by Newman, also could have intervened earlier, after receiving numerous reports of harm about McDuffie and his company, Shortell said.

OPA directed questions about the case to the state Department of Law, which declined an interview request. But spokesperson Patty Sullivan shared a brief comment on McDuffie’s business, Cache Integrity, over email.

“The actions of Cache Integrity are tragic and the state is working on solutions,” the statement says. “It is unfortunate that the state has been included in this lawsuit when the responsibility lies with those who caused the injury.”

But under state law, Shortell said, the state does have a legal responsibility to protect vulnerable Alaskans in its care.

“So, that’s simply not true that the state of Alaska wasn’t responsible,” she said.

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Disabled Alaskans sue state and appointed guardian for alleged financial abuse, neglect

Video shows 95-year-old grandmother assaulted by home aid in Harlem

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Video shows 95-year-old grandmother assaulted by home aid in Harlem

Senior center resident in JCC attacked with laptop

Police are investigating and a staff member has been fired after an apparent case of elder abuse at English Meadows Williamsburg senior living center.

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Senior center resident in JCC attacked with laptop

Holmes County Sheriff’s Office arrest couple in elder abuse case

by: WMBB-TV Staff

HOLMES COUNTY, Fla. (WMBB) – Holmes County Sheriff’s Office has arrested a husband and wife in an elder abuse case.

HCSO investigators met with a family of the suspects regarding the death of a woman who passed away at Doctors Memorial Hospital after being there for several days, according to authorities. 

The family member expressed concern that Diane and Mickey Bowman had exploited the elderly woman by unlawfully taking her money and property. Officials said the family member also raised concerns about their neglect of the elderly woman’s well-being.  

An investigation revealed evidence supporting these allegations and the transfer of large amounts of money from the elderly woman’s bank accounts into the Bowman’s accounts. Additionally, officials said their investigation found neglect in the care provided to the woman.

Both Diane and Mickey Bowman are in custody and facing charges of exploitation of the elderly and elderly neglect. This is an ongoing investigation.

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Holmes County Sheriff’s Office arrest couple in elder abuse case

Elderly Americans are losing millions to real estate scams

Fortune· Getty Images

by Elizabeth Blosser

Scammers have only become more sophisticated over time, stealing tens of billions from Americans annually, with the emergence of artificial intelligence (AI) exacerbating the problem. But one type of fraud in particular—elder real estate fraud and financial exploitation—has flown mostly under the radar, rising in recent years as the average price of homes has increased.

It is time to reverse this trend. State and federal governments must work collaboratively with the private sector toward a solution before more older adults fall victim.

The Federal Bureau of Investigation’s (FBI) Internet Crime Complaint Center (IC3) found that nearly 1,500 Americans ages 60 and older reported losing a total of $65 million in real estate scams last year. Overall, there was a 14% increase in elderly victims filing complaints and the Federal Trade Commission (FTC) reported that adults over age 60 lost over $1.6 billion to all types of scams last year.

Attractive targets

The median age of Americans has increased over the last four decades and our population is older today than it has ever been. Older Americans are less likely to report suspected fraud and as a group, tend to be financially better off than other demographic groups. This makes them attractive targets, but it also means steps must be taken to prevent the damage from being done in the first place.

Elder real estate fraud and financial exploitation covers a broad range of actions, including forging a signature on legal or financial documents; coercing or unduly influencing the signing of a legal or financial document; and non-disclosure of critical information; and inappropriate utilization of authority under a Power of Attorney (POA), just to name a few. Often the perpetrator isn’t a stranger, but rather a close relative, trusted friend or advisor of the victim, which makes the scam even more egregious.

The consequences can be financially devastating as FBI Public Affairs Officer Christina Garza noted in the wake of the IC3 report release: “We’re seeing people lose their entire life savings and their retirement funds on top of that. They’re losing their homes because they’re having to remortgage their houses to be able to keep up with the scams and the extortion if you will and manipulation that comes along with all of that.”

What government can do

The stark increase in scams targeting older adults is deeply concerning, which is why the American Land Title Association (ALTA) has joined together with the National Consumer Law Center (NCLC), National Association of Realtors (NAR) and AARP to share legislative, educational, and enforcement recommendations states and the federal government can implement to help combat the rise in elder real estate fraud and financial exploitation.

Legislatively, states could ban unfair and deceptive long-term real estate agreements that purport to create liens and result in financial loss. In addition, the Uniform Law Commission’s (ULC) Uniform Power of Attorney Act provides protection to guard against financial exploitation by those individuals acting in an official representative capacity. By enacting and enforcing the Act, states could shield older adults against bad actors looking to take advantage of them.

States could also educate consumers and practitioners on deed theft. Deed theft or fraud is a scheme that involves forging and recording a phony transfer of property ownership, allowing criminals to then sell the home or take out a mortgage on it.

Expanded enforcement could also help stem the rising number of older adults who fall prey to scams. States and the federal government could support data gathering and enforcement of protection laws by allocating the necessary resources and promoting initiatives through local Adult Protective Services (APS) and the Consumer Financial Protection Bureau (CFPB), among others.

Finally, the real estate industry must continue to share resources that consumers, practitioners, advocates, law enforcement, and other interested stakeholders can access to stay informed on rising threats targeting older adults.

Together, these collective efforts can help prevent future fraud and exploitation, safeguard the financial security of older Americans, and send a message that these abusive practices must end.

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Elderly Americans are losing millions to real estate scams

Davison man loses over $100K to Publishers Clearing House scam

By: Alyssa Erwin

DAVISON, Mich. (WJRT)- A 75-year-old Davison man has been scammed out of nearly $130,000.

Terry Stevens said he's been an Publishers Clearing House customer for years. He enjoys the National Magazine, but also received mail about sweepstakes entries.

That makes his family feel like he was targeted by cyber-criminals who were sold his information.

"I feel terrible, but pretty much an idiot like everybody else probably has," said Stevens.

His step-son, John Hudson, said National Magazine called Stevens about his membership and to see how he was doing. The caller informed him that a sweepstakes was coming up.

Hudson said his step-father's name was then entered in a drawing. From there, Stevens received hundreds of mailed pamphlets explaining he was very close to winning. Weeks later, he got a call saying he won $2.5 million.

"It was real. These people, they have probably been doing this for years. They are tuned in. They will suck you right in with no problems," Stevens said.

Hudson said his step-father got tricked by all the brochures he received telling him that he could be the next winner.

"He believed he finally did win this," Hudson said of Stevens. "They said also there are some processing fees he would need to pay. They gave him instructions on how to go to the credit union and lie to them."

Stevens wired over $58,000 to a bank in Miami to "assist" with "taxes and processing fees" to receive the $2.5 million prize. The scammers told Stevens to lie and say it was for building supplies.

From there, they kept preying on him, saying if he didn't send more money, his money wouldn't cover the fee.

"The very next day someone made an online account for him, went into his account because there was no money left and took a loan against his checking account in two different transactions," said Hudson.

Stevens said he's never used online banking and doesn't use the internet or a computer. In the end, he said he was blindsided with all of his money gone.

"I just realized I was the biggest fool of all and what to do next," said Stevens.

The family has filed police complaints and contacted the bank multiple times,  making a claim with the theft department. However, the possibility of finding those scammers and getting the money back is not very promising.

"This innocent man that's disconnected from the world just got taken advantage of by this evil world. But he got set up by Publishers Clearing House telling him any day he could be the winner," said Hudson.

In 2023, Publishers Clearing House was sued by the Federal Trade Commission to pay $18.5 million. The money was to pay consumers who spent money and wasted their time.

Publishers Clearing House was also supposed to make substantial changes to how it conducts business. But the Stevens family says the issues are still happening, now with cyber criminals involved.

"You're spending money with them. You're spending money with people who are giving your name to people who want to buy it. That's what it comes down to. Just don't fall for it," said Stevens.

He never thought he would get tricked out of his hard-earned savings, leaving him devastated. Now, he and his step-son are hoping to warn others about this sweepstakes scam.

"You steal his money, but you break this man down," said Hudson.

Publishers Clearing House says it will never contact winners in advance by email, phone or mail about major prizes. The family says while the story might be uncomfortable for them to talk about, they want to warn others to be aware.

There is a GoFundMe to help Stevens after this scam.

The Michigan Attorney General's Office says scammers are getting more creative, but there are warning signs you can spot.

Signs it's a scam include if you're contacted out of the blue with an urgent request, pressured to act or respond immediately, asked for payment in an unusual form, given vague information or if the caller doesn't want to answer questions from you and if you're promised something too good to be true.

You can report scams to the AG's Consumer Protection team here.

Full Article & Source:
Davison man loses over $100K to Publishers Clearing House scam

This Guardian Enriched Herself Using the Finances of Vulnerable People In Her Care. Judges Let It Happen.

by Jake Pearson

When a New York judge appointed Yvonne Murphy to take over the care of Martin Chorost in late 2011, the 63-year-old had diabetes, dementia and a constellation of other maladies. He also had assets worth more than $800,000, which were put at his guardian’s disposal.

Murphy immediately tapped them to hire Beacon Eldercare, which billed itself as “the leading health care assistance firm in Queens,” to provide him with round-the-clock aides.

As it turned out, it was also Murphy’s own private business.

Over the ensuing years, Murphy transferred between $80,000 and $100,000 annually from Chorost’s accounts to Beacon while, separately, she collected tens of thousands of dollars from him in guardianship fees. Before long, the arrangement sparked a complaint from the court examiner charged with reviewing Murphy’s work.

“I believe that the dual roles of guardian and CEO of the agency creates the possibility and potential for a conflict of interest to exist,” the court examiner wrote in June 2015. A court clerk underlined the words “conflict of interest” and drew a star in the margin next to them.

In fact, legal experts told ProPublica, the arrangement was a clear and flagrant violation of New York law, which bars guardians from providing for-profit services like health care or day care to their wards.

But Queens Supreme Court Justice Lee Mayersohn permitted the apparent conflict for years. By the time Chorost died in April 2019, Murphy had transferred more than half his life’s savings — $417,697 in all — to her company. Even then, Beacon sought more, billing his estate for an additional $50,890 in unpaid fees.

The examiner in Chorost’s case wasn’t the only one to raise alarms. Over the years, various officials — including a lawyer, a fellow guardian and even a judge — flagged Murphy’s use of Beacon in other cases, with some of them warning that she could be abusing her court-appointed position to enrich herself at the expense of her wards. But in each case, the judge overseeing the guardianship downplayed or overrode the concern.

Those decisions facilitated a lucrative — and potentially illegal — commercial pipeline for one of the court’s most popular guardians, who, over the course of a decade, controlled the money and health care of more than 100 incapacitated people, a ProPublica investigation has found.

Earlier this year, the news organization reported that New York’s guardianship system is failing to protect the elderly and ailing people entrusted to its care. Part of the problem is lax oversight, with court examiners taking years to review the work of the guardians they are tasked with overseeing. Those delays can result in dangerous gaps in information for judges charged with making sensitive decisions about the financial and physical welfare of wards — some of whom, ProPublica found, have ended up living in squalor, including one woman who endured bedbugs, rats and no heat for years. Another died without her guardian noticing, her corpse eventually discovered by a utility worker.

But Murphy’s story illustrates just how culpable judges themselves can be in the system’s breakdown, permitting financial arrangements that experts said were unequivocally improper — even in cases when examiners point out potential problems. Lawyers, advocates and researchers alike say this laissez-faire judicial culture is the product of crushing caseloads, sparse resources and a shallow pool of guardians willing to take the most challenging cases. In New York City, there are just over a dozen judges who handle the 17,411 people in guardianships, data provided by the courts show.

“The easiest way to reduce the workload is not to look for problems,” said Nina Kohn, a guardianship expert at Syracuse University College of Law. “The second-easiest way is when you see problems, to ignore them.”

ProPublica reviewed three years of Beacon’s client lists, which were disclosed in a lawsuit, and discovered that in at least 20 instances, Murphy referred a ward under her care to her own agency. In a dozen cases, she did so as the person’s guardian. In the other eight, she acted in a different role, as a court-appointed care coordinator. That total is almost certainly an undercount since Murphy served in the guardianship system for more than 15 years. Nevertheless, the data gives a clear snapshot of just how profitable the dynamic was for Murphy’s business. In those three years alone, wards accounted for $1.5 million in Beacon revenue, about a quarter of the company’s income, the records show.

Murphy’s problematic conduct did not stop there, though.

Last month, a judge ruled that Murphy had “violated her fiduciary duty” to a wealthy Manhattan woman “in ways that shock the conscience” and barred her from serving as a professional guardian. The searing decision followed years of investigations into whether Murphy steered millions in investments and real estate for her own benefit.

Murphy, who in court records has denied any wrongdoing, did not respond to numerous requests for comment. She’s been similarly unresponsive to legal filings in multiple civil cases, records show. She sold Beacon last April, records show, and her own family and lawyers have said they’ve been unable to reach her since then. As a result, at least three attorneys have stopped representing her, and one said in court in June that “Ms. Murphy has dropped out of sight.”

None of the judges featured in this story would address why they allowed Murphy to use her court-appointed role as guardian to employ her own private business, in apparent violation of state law. Neither would the state Office of Court Administration, which runs the court system.

Courts spokesperson Al Baker said in a statement that “one of the highest priorities of the New York State Unified Court System remains combating abuse of elders and other incapacitated persons, particularly through a more vigorous and responsive guardianship system.”

Baker said the court system “is keenly aware of the structural problems it confronts, such as gaps in the numbers of qualified guardians and other professionals that are available.” Those problems have been the subject of ProPublica’s ongoing reporting.

“These issues cannot be addressed by the court system alone,” Baker said, “but require the participation of our partners in the other branches of government.” Just this year, the state Legislature rejected a modest request for $5 million to bolster the pool of guardians.

Advocates for reforming New York’s beleaguered system said that judges don’t have to wait for structural reforms to protect vulnerable wards from guardians who are leveraging their court-appointed position for personal gain.

“It shouldn’t be a question,” said Rebekah Diller, a guardianship expert at Cardozo School of Law. “A guardian is not appointed to engage in self-dealing.”

A Conflict of Interest?

Almost from the outset, there were signs that Murphy was commingling her private business with her work as a court-appointed guardian.

Just four months after forming Beacon Eldercare in January 2006, court records show she took the daylong course required to become certified as a guardian. By 2015, she was receiving dozens of appointments a year, putting her on track to become one of the system’s most prolific practitioners.

One longtime friend credited that success to Murphy’s networking skills. Sophisticated, confident and well dressed, she made frequent appearances on podcasts, in courthouses and at senior centers, where she marketed herself and her business. And with advanced degrees in social work and forensic psychology, she was able to use her years working in hospitals and a nursing home to capitalize on the business of aging, according to court records.

At Beacon, Murphy stored her wards’ paperwork at the company’s headquarters, where employees accessed the files and corresponded with county clerks and judges, court records show. Even the email address Murphy listed in the court system’s directory — guardianship@beaconeldercare.com — noted the symbiotic relationship.

In a 2020 deposition, Murphy testified, “Most certainly when I’m in court I never ever represent that Yvonne Murphy is the same as Beacon Elder Care being appointed.”

The distinction matters since the state’s guardianship statute bars guardians from being the provider of health care, day care, educational or residential services to their wards “whether direct or indirect” unless the court finds that no one else is “available or willing to act” in either capacity.

In the Chorost case, the examiner’s concerns went to a core question: Can a guardian who is referring wards to her own business be trusted to independently assess the care that business provides — or the bills it submits?

Avoiding the Question

The case was not the first in which ProPublica found someone raising that question.

The daughter of an elderly Queens pastor named Thomas Burns had flagged a similar conflict to Mayersohn a year beforehand.

The judge had appointed Murphy to be a guardian to Burns, who was 90 and had dementia, because his family and friends couldn’t agree on how to best care for him and manage his money. In an affidavit, Murphy sought court approval to hire home health aides supplied by her own company.

Mayersohn approved the request and Murphy then transferred more than $120,000 from Burns’ accounts to Beacon over the next two years — all while collecting nearly $6,700 in guardianship fees — an arrangement Burns’ daughter challenged.

“This dual interest is a conflict,” her attorney wrote in a 2014 motion.

Separately, a parishioner of Burns’ congregation wrote to Murphy and Mayersohn in the summer of 2014 questioning the quality of his care. “The way you run your business operation leaves me thinking that maybe the Judge handling Pastor Burns’ case should have Beacon Elder Care, Inc. investigated,” the congregant wrote.

But Mayersohn, who had been on the bench for a decade at that point, permitted the setup, and there’s no record in Burns’ case file that he addressed the question of Murphy’s dual interests.

The judge also allowed the apparent conflict to persist in Chorost’s case after an examiner flagged Murphy’s use of Beacon in the summer of 2015. Murphy told the official that she conducted “yearly periodic random phone calls to check industry wide rates” and that Beacon’s fees were reasonable.

There’s no record of the judge addressing the examiner’s legal concerns. After a conference in 2015, Mayersohn ordered a health care provider to evaluate “the appropriateness of the services being provided.” That review eventually found that Beacon’s services were “appropriate and beneficial,” the examiner later told the court.

Barbara Pace, Chorost’s sister, said she had long suspected Murphy was only interested in drawing compensation out of her brother. Murphy, she said, hadn’t even kept up with Chorost’s taxes, resulting in penalties and a federal lien.

“He had a lot of money and ended up with nothing,” said Pace, who lives in Florida. “All these people who were supposed to be overseeing things obviously passed the buck and didn’t do their job.”

Diller, the guardianship expert at Cardozo School of Law, said that for Mayersohn to allow Murphy to act as guardian and care provider simultaneously, he was required to have made a formal finding that no one else was available for either role.

But there’s no such finding in either case, the records show. After the 2015 conference to discuss Murphy’s use of Beacon, Mayersohn appointed her to 11 more guardianships.

A Soft Touch From the Bench

Not all judges avoided the question of Murphy’s apparent conflict of interest.

In 2015, as Mayersohn approved the Beacon payments in Queens, a different judge took issue with them in Nassau County on Long Island. And his handling of the matter suggests that even the barest judicial action could have curtailed Murphy’s use of her own company.

Murphy asked Judge Gary Knobel to approve a $20,656 payment to Beacon for six weeks of home health aides for a blind 19-year-old with “no cognitive abilities of significance,” according to the young woman’s case file.

In a filing, Murphy said the use of her company had been “discussed in chambers at the previous status conference.”

But when Knobel approved the payment, he included a caveat, writing that any future request “shall specifically disclose to the Court any compensation she received or will be receiving as a result of services rendered by” Beacon.

Knobel, a former law clerk who was elected to the bench in 2005, did not respond to ProPublica’s request for comment. But after his decision, payments to Beacon stopped.

“We Will Get Someone Who Is Honest”

Despite the various red flags, judges across New York and Long Island continued to entrust Murphy with the care of vulnerable New Yorkers for years, and she touted these relationships on Beacon Eldercare’s website, listing a number of judges by name, including Mayersohn and Knobel.

Sometimes they appointed her as a guardian and at other times the judges asked her to serve instead in a position known as a geriatric care manager for elderly wards. In both capacities, Murphy was considered a fiduciary, meaning she was required to act for the benefit of the client and not herself. But geriatric care managers, who assess the needs of elderly patients and can also arrange for their services, aren’t licensed or otherwise regulated by the state, and they are not subject to any explicit conflict-of-interest rules.

For Murphy and Beacon, the position proved fruitful.

Consider the case of Alvaro Guevara, a 74-year-old Colombian immigrant who faced “deteriorating physical and other conditions,” according to one of his guardians. In 2015, they appeared in court with their ward to request more control over his health care given the apparent decline.

Supreme Court Judge Bernice Siegal said she would appoint a geriatric care manager to assess Guevara’s needs — and hire home health aides if necessary. Guevara, who had about $305,000 left from a legal settlement, had a request regarding his future caretakers.

“I need somebody who is honest,” he told the judge.

“We will get someone who is honest, and if they are not honest, you will get everything back,” Siegal replied.

Murphy got the appointment, and she enlisted Beacon to provide Guevara services.

For more than two years, Murphy’s company drew on his account, providing 24-hour home care at the cost of roughly $7,500 per month, records show. His guardians sought to defray the fees by moving their ward’s brother in to help out and, eventually, by seeking court authority to send Guevara back to Colombia where his dollar would stretch further and where he could live with family.

But by January 2018, with only about $50,000 left to his name, Guevara refused to move after “representatives of Beacon Eldercare met with and convinced Mr. Guevara and his brother” that applying for public assistance was a better course of action, Christopher Owen, one of his guardians, wrote in a motion. “In my opinion, the foregoing advise was irresponsible and not in Mr. Guevara’s best interest,” he wrote.

There’s no record in Guevara’s case file that Siegal questioned Murphy’s dual roles. And records show that even the judge conflated them: A month after Owen’s motion, she issued an order that listed the geriatric care manager as “Beacon Eldercare,” not Murphy.

Siegal, a longtime guardianship judge, did not respond to ProPublica’s request for comment.

In all, roughly $180,000 of Guevara’s money went to Beacon. By 2019, with Guevara unable to afford rent from his $300 monthly Social Security check and with only $20,000 left in the bank, his guardians moved him into a Queens assisted living facility. That year Beacon didn’t collect from Guevara, but Murphy did, receiving $4,950 in fees from the ward for her services, which included putting together his Medicaid application.

Multimillion-Dollar Deal Raises Suspicion

Murphy’s lucrative run as a favored court appointee officially came to an end last month, when a judge ruled that she had taken advantage of a wealthy ward named Theresa Hastings.

Hastings had ended up in guardianship in 2016 after falling in her apartment, and she and her late husband, Ingo Grezinger, had extensive real estate holdings across New Jersey and New York, including a row of four abandoned brownstones in Harlem.

One of Murphy’s first acts as Hastings’ guardian was moving her into a Queens nursing home, court records show. She then set about marshaling her ward’s assets, including nearly $6 million in holdings from Grezinger’s estate.

But as Murphy took hold of a sizable real estate and investment portfolio, she failed to file the statutorily required reports to the court detailing her ward’s finances and well-being. During that time, judges still approved Murphy’s requests to sell some of Grezinger’s properties, including the four Harlem brownstones.

Murphy then helped a Beacon business associate, Patrick Toussaint, acquire those four buildings, according to the recent court ruling. Toussaint testified that Murphy told him about the properties and she negotiated the price with him, the judge wrote. A company Toussaint controlled purchased the townhouses for about $3 million — then sold them months later for nearly $8 million.

In her decision, the judge noted that Toussaint loaned Murphy $200,000 after the deal closed, money that he said she never repaid.

Reached by phone, Toussaint declined to comment.

It wasn’t until September 2019, nearly a year and a half after Hastings died, that Murphy finally filed a report detailing her ward’s finances to the court.

These and other actions worried the court examiner tasked with reviewing Murphy’s guardianship work. The examiner, Alison Arden Besunder, wrote in a December 2019 preliminary report that Murphy had “repeatedly failed to comply” with the law and had “continued to thwart her fiduciary obligations as Guardian.”

In Murphy’s defense, her then-lawyer said Besunder had “grossly mischaracterized” her client’s conduct and wrote that sanctioning her in a case in which she obtained “no financial benefit or personal gain would have a chilling effect on the willingness” of people like Murphy to serve as professional guardians. Murphy took most of the guardianships she was appointed to “out of her compassion for the elderly or incapacitated population,” as well as “her understanding of the Court’s dire need for eligible” professional guardians, her lawyer, Jessica Reznak, wrote in a March 2020 filing.

But the judge was unpersuaded. In a decision issued in July, five years after the investigation began, Supreme Court Justice Carol Sharpe ruled that Murphy’s testimony hadn’t been credible and that she’d “consistently involved herself in business dealings using Ms. Hastings’s assets that were clear conflicts of interest and a gross dereliction of her duties.”

Sixteen years after Murphy became a guardian, Sharpe banned her from serving in that role, removed her from all the cases she’d been assigned to and charged her “for any financial incentives she received” from the estates of Hastings and her husband.

The Manhattan District Attorney’s Office is also probing the matter, as is the public administrator’s office, the city agency that settles the affairs of people who die without wills. Attorneys for the agency have said in court records that they still need to account for how Murphy handled Grezinger’s assets, including the Harlem brownstones.

But they’ll likely have to piece it all together without questioning Murphy directly. With her actions as a court-appointed fiduciary under the microscope, a government attorney recently wrote that the onetime guardian “appears to have intentionally and voluntarily absented herself from the jurisdiction.”

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This Guardian Enriched Herself Using the Finances of Vulnerable People In Her Care. Judges Let It Happen.