Should disabled man see husband who showed ‘abusive behavior’?

Column: After ardent pleas, judge said she doesn't make law, but has to follow it, and the answer is clear

By Teri Sforza

The judge had so much to weigh, it seemed.

Declarations from the psychiatrist and therapist saying no, not yet: Ryan Morris is still vulnerable, adjusting to a new home with his biological family for the first time in his life, away from his adoptive mom (who stands accused of involuntary manslaughter, cruelty to children and dependent adults, and lewd/lascivious conduct) and his husband (who threatened to send him to the psych ward and/or end their marriage when Morris “misbehaved”). Morris shouldn’t visit with such folks just now, the health professionals said.

Then there was the petition from Morris’s husband: He hasn’t been allowed to see Morris since the bio family took over guardianship in May, and asked the court to step in and order regular visits between them.

And finally, there was the request from Morris himself. At age 29, he has the intellectual capacity of a kindergartener. He wasn’t in the courtroom, but he would, indeed, like to see his husband, Morris’ attorney told the judge.

In a highly unusual and contentious case that has raged for years — raising profoundly uncomfortable questions about the hard-won right for disabled people to marry and have sex lives, just like everyone else, and their right to be protected from abuse and undue influence — a Riverside County judge on Wednesday, Aug. 30 said that there was really no choice to make at all.

The law, especially in the wake of the Britney Spears conservatorship debacle, requires the court to honor Morris’ wishes.

“The right to control his social and sexual contacts and relationships are his and his alone,” Judge Jacqueline Jackson told Morris’ biological aunt and new legal conservator, Monica Mukai of San Juan Capistrano, who beseeched the judge to hold off on visits for now.

“Only Ryan holds consent. It’s not a joint right, not given to you, you do not share that right. Only Ryan has that right, under the orders that I’m holding,” the judge said.

Mukai and Morris’s biological family have long had “grave concerns” that Morris is a victim of sexual abuse and dependent-adult abuse. Mukai and the judge did some verbal sparring, but the outcome was not in doubt.

The judge was mindful, however, of the “abusive behavior” that removed Morris’ husband, Sean Spicer, as Morris’ legal guardian in 2019.

‘Misread’?

“The lines between spouse and conservator have been blurred to such an extent that it is no longer in Ryan’s best interest to have Sean in the role of conservator,” a judge wrote back then. “This is evidenced by numerous instances of abusive behavior.”

That includes Spicer, a man of regular intelligence, threatening to send Morris back to his adoptive mother when he misbehaved, threatening to remove his wedding ring and end the marriage, threatening to send Morris for emergency mental health treatment, punishing Morris by restricting visits with his biological family and taking his phone away to prevent contact with them. Morris had bouts of violence, even fighting with Spicer himself.

Morris and Spicer will indeed get to visit, the judge said, but those visits will be supervised. Spicer will pay for the supervision.

Jack Osborn, the publicly appointed attorney charged with representing Morris’ wishes, defended Spicer. The bio family refers to Spicer as a “court-adjudicated abuser” in court filings, but Osborn said that was a “misread” of the 2019 ruling that removed Spicer as conservator.

“The court did say there were certain acts that were abusive,” Osborn said, “but the real issue was that Mr. Spicer was unable to separate his role as conservator and as spouse.” Spicer made some “wrong choices,” Osborn said, including convincing Morris that he was in a battle with his aunt, Mukai, that they had to win. But that baked-in conflict is gone now that Mukai is conservator, and, simply put, Morris wants to see Spicer.

We’ll leave the parsing of the difference between “people who exhibit abusive behavior” and “abusers” to the lawyers, but Mukai worries. She understands that Osborn’s job is to represent Morris’ wishes — but it’s also to make sure Morris is safe, she told the court. As his conservator, that’s her job, too. Morris is easily led and often flip-flops on what he wants, and Mukai feared that his progress could be jeopardized by visits with Spicer right now.

Unaddressed was the elephant in the room: Can Morris legally consent to marriage? In a report for the court, a psychologist concluded that Morris did not have that capacity, “based on his concrete thinking and his limited understanding of a mutual nature of a relationship creating expectations between adults.” His adoptive mother — the one currently facing manslaughter and abuse charges — told Morris he could get a cell phone if he got married, the report said. Video of the ceremony shows that Morris mistook his wedding for a baptism.

That issue, though, was not before this court, the judge said.

Identical twins Ryan and Ronald Moore about age 7.
They liked to watch the trains together in San
Clemente, (Photo courtesy of Monica Mazzei)

Back home

In a longed-for victory for the family, Morris’ conservatorship case will be transferred from Riverside — where his adoptive mother moved to escape “persecution” from Orange County officials who accused her of having Munchausen by proxy (a behavior disorder in which caretakers exaggerate children’s health problems and subject them to unnecessary or inappropriate medical treatment) — and back home to Orange County, where this all began.

That will mean a fresh start for Morris, Mukai said.

Ryan Morris and his identical twin brother Ronald Moore were swept into state custody shortly after their birth in O.C. in 1994, due to their parents’ history of mental illness. Moore emerged healthy; Morris’ diagnoses included cerebral palsy, schizophrenia, attention-deficit/hyperactivity disorder, behavior disorder, epilepsy and intellectual disability. Their grandmother sought custody of both boys, but got only Moore, the healthy twin. Morris remained in foster care because of his many special needs, which social workers said were beyond his grandmother’s ability to address.

Morris’ foster mother, Michelle Morris-Kerin, ran a home for the severely disabled. A former social worker, she wanted to adopt the boy. The biological family vehemently objected, but the adoption was approved by the court anyway. Morris-Kerin soon cut off all communication with her new son’s biological family.

Spicer was working in Morris-Kerin’s foster home for severely disabled children in Riverside County when he met Morris. Their wedding was held in Morris-Kerin’s backyard.

Transferring the case to Orange County will take time. There are hiccups getting all the paperwork transferred from the Riverside Public Guardian’s office to Mukai, and with getting services once provided by the Inland Regional Center picked up by the Regional Center of Orange County (quasi-governmental agencies that distribute state funding for the disabled). Mukai has been paying for all that out-of-pocket since she was appointed conservator in May, she said.

But she’s enormously pleased with Morris’ progress since he moved into her bungalow on historic Los Rios Street in San Juan Capistrano. He is having fewer and fewer outbursts, has started classes at Saddleback College — adaptive yoga, core strengthening and conditioning, community skills, a reading lab — attends the Happening Club in San Clemente and recently went with her to Mammoth for a disabled sports program that had him zooming around on a three-wheeled bike.

“No more group homes,” she said he told her.

Full Article & Source:
Should disabled man see husband who showed ‘abusive behavior’?

See Also:
Could woman accused of murder be appointed disabled man’s guardian?

Biological family’s fight for disabled California man finally lands before judge

Part 1: Twins, divided: Is one man happily married or a victim of sexual abuse? 

 

Part 2: Twins, divided: Confusion, concern and ‘I do’ 

 

Part 3: Twins, divided: Brothers will see each other in court

 

 

Biological family’s fight for disabled California man finally lands before judge

Column: Tragically, officials got the Ryan Morris case wrong at just about every turn. Will anything change now?

Ryan Morris with his aunt Monica Mukai during a Christmas tree lightening in San Juan Capistrano. (Photo courtesy of Monica Mukai)

By Teri Sforza

So very much has happened in the six years since Ryan Morris’ biological relatives sought to become his legal guardians.

Morris’ adoptive mother and father in Murrieta were charged with lewd conduct with dependent adults “with the intent of arousing, appealing to, and gratifying the lust, passions, and sexual desires” of themselves and their charges, as well as with neglect contributing to the death of a disabled child in their care. (That eliminated the adoptive mom’s request to be re-appointed Morris’s legal guardian.)

The court removed Morris’ husband from the legal guardian job — his adoptive mother allowed him to marry a man nearly twice his age, despite the fact that Morris has the intellectual ability of a kindergartener and mistook the wedding for a baptism — and found that the husband was abusive toward Morris and kept him in a volatile household. (Morris’ publicly financed attorneys asked the appeals court to return Morris to the husband’s home anyway — a request the court denied.)

Then the Riverside County Public Guardian’s office was appointed as Morris’ “temporary” legal guardian, moving him to a low-stress, neutral home where he could finally start visiting with his biological family from Orange County without fear of being punished. (Both his adoptive mother and husband talked down his bio family and threatened to take away privileges — or send him to the psych ward — when he expressed desire to see or talk to them, according to court documents.)

Ronald Moore, left, and identical twin Ryan Morris embrace after seeing each for the first time in 13 years at a court hearing on Ryan’s conservatorship in July 2015. (Photo courtesy of Monica Mukai) 

Visits with Morris are professionally monitored and going well, according to documents filed with the court. Morris sometimes panics about being punished for being with his biological family, but his relatives are adept at reminding him he’s safe, helping him breathe and talking him down. They help him brush his teeth, learn to bend his knees when walking up stairs, and button his own shirt.

But this “temporary” public guardianship has stretched on for years. Morris’ biological family has clashed with officials there, objecting to constraints on visitation, fearing Morris is being isolated, even filing a court declaration from a social worker saying he was misled about the bio family by the Public Guardian’s office.

Finally, on Thursday, Sept. 1, the court began hearing his biological aunt Monica Mukai’s request to appoint her as his conservator. It was filed in 2016. The bio family has been fighting Morris’ removal from their fold for most of his life, and a well-appointed bedroom has been awaiting him in San Juan Capistrano’s quaint Los Rios Street Historic District for years.

The next court date is Oct. 3, when a trial date is expected to be set.

“This case is old,” said Riverside Superior Court Judge Jacqueline Jackson, “and we need resolution.”

The plight of Brittany Spears focused attention on the abuses that can be attendant to conservatorships, California’s official parlance for legal guardianships for the disabled. The nettlesome issues were probed in a three-part series, “Twins, Divided,” by the Southern California News Group in 2017.

But the outstanding question remains: What does Morris want?

Ryan Morris, right, and husband Sean Spicer, at their wedding in 2014. Morris mistook the ceremony for a baptism. (Photo courtesy probate court file) 

It’s complicated

Morris is easily influenced and subject to manipulation, court proceedings have found.

When he visits with the bio family, he becomes upset when it’s time to leave and says he wants to stay. But his county-appointed attorneys say Morris opposes having anyone in his bio family as conservator, and wants his husband — who was removed for the aforementioned abusive behavior — for that job.

That husband, Sean Spicer, opposes Mukai as legal guardian as well.

To clear up confusion, the bio family has been pushing to get Morris into the courtroom to tell the judge directly what he wants, but his attorneys said Morris doesn’t want to come.

Identical twins Ryan and Ronald Moore about age 7. They liked to watch the trains together in San Clemente. (Photo courtesy of Monica Mukai) 

The bio family does not believe them. “Ryan’s lawyers knew that Sean was abusing him for years and did nothing about it. They knew that a doctor and a judge determined that Ryan was incapable of entering into marriage and maintaining marriage, and they did nothing about it. I don’t trust anything they say,” said Charles S. Krolikowski of Newmeyer & Dillion LLP, attorney for Morris’s identical twin brother, Ronald Moore.

And then there’s the Public Guardian, which has the job temporarily, saying it takes on conservatorships only as a last resort, but there are clearly others who want to volunteer for the job. But the office fears that a trial on Mukai’s request for conservatorship will turn into an “attack” on how the Public Guardian’s office has handled Morris’ case, putting the Public Guardian itself on trial.

Mukai’s critique of the office has, indeed, been withering. But after decades of astonishing acts by the state and its representatives — from deciding that Morris was too disabled to be cared for by his own family, to approving his adoption by Michelle Morris, a woman who cut off all contact with them and now stands accused of abuse, to placing more and more severely disabled children in Michelle Morris’ care despite the Orange County Regional Center asserting she suffered from Munchausen by proxy (a behavior disorder in which caretakers exaggerate children’s health problems and subject them to unnecessary or inappropriate medical treatment), to officials looking past reports of sexual abuse in her home and taping children to wheelchairs and putting wheelchair-bound children into closets until, finally, Michelle Morris was charged with neglect in the case of a girl in her care who died — perhaps some criticism is understandable?

Michelle Morris Kerin (Courtesy of Riverside County DA) 

Forward

This reporter has been following this case for nearly 20 years. The family has learned that it must fight. And there’s some evidence that the Public Guardian’s office has not been completely neutral here.

A social worker asked to provide “relationship building services” among the parties in this case said he was never given the judge’s order removing Spicer or other pertinent background information. He was “fed” misinformation that led him to believe the culprits in this drama were the biological family members, and he blasted Riverside County officials for manipulation and bias in a court declaration.

“I came to the conclusion that I was being used as a pawn by the Public Guardian’s Office to render findings and recommendations without having all of the information I needed to do so,” it said.

The judge did not seem too receptive to the Public Guardian’s fear of criticism at trial, so we’ll see how that unfolds. Officials there may need to toughen up a bit.

Mukai, meanwhile, is excited for her nephew’s future, and she hopes to “set him free.”

“Ryan Morris has voiced a desire to attend college, get help with his dental and medical needs, and spend multiple nights at my residence, where he is provided appealing educational and social opportunities in a very integrative manner with his family and the community at large,” she said in a declaration to the court.

“Ryan’s cries have tragically fallen on deaf ears by the county representatives and agencies for too long. Instead Ryan’s former conservators — Sean Spicer and Michelle Morris — have utilized Ryan’s court appointed attorneys and county representatives, including County Counsel, to keep a wedge between Ryan and his biological family, essentially preventing us from assisting him accomplish these goals….

“I respectfully request that this court allow Ryan to return to Orange County with his biological family where, as the proposed successor conservator, I will work with the Regional Center of Orange County to ‘select the least restrictive appropriate residence….’ I understand very clearly that it would be my duty by law to secure housing, treatment, services, and opportunities that will assist him … to develop maximum self-reliance and independence.”

It can be argued that, tragically, officials got the Ryan Morris case wrong at just about every turn. Will this time be any different?

Full Article & Source:

Biological family’s fight for disabled California man finally lands before judge 

 

See Also: 

Part 1: Twins, divided: Is one man happily married or a victim of sexual abuse? 

 

Part 2: Twins, divided: Confusion, concern and ‘I do’ 

 

Part 3: Twins, divided: Brothers will see each other in court

 

 

Trial date set as twin challenges disabled brother’s husband for guardianship

RIVERSIDE – Ryan Morris – the 23-year-old disabled man at the center of a novel and bitter battle between his identical twin brother and his husband – was not in court again Tuesday even as a judge set a February trial date to decide who should be entrusted as Morris’ legal guardian.

Right now, the legal guardian job falls to Morris’ husband, Sean Spicer, 41, of Romoland. But Morris’ biological family is seeking to change that relationship and take over legal responsibility for Morris.

As part of their argument, the family offered into evidence a video clip of the couple’s 2014 wedding. The grooms wore matching tuxedos, with white roses in their lapels, but as the official asked Morris to repeat his vows Morris appeared confused and “did not even understand that he was getting married to another man almost twice his age, thinking he was at a baptism,” according to Morris’ twin, Ronald Moore, in a court filing. Moore and others in his family asked again for the Riverside Public Guardian to be appointed as Morris’ temporary guardian – or “conservator,” in California parlance – while the broader custody battle wends its way through the justice system.

Judge Daniel A. Ottolia made no decision on that question, as both sides are in mediation in hopes of forging an acceptable compromise. They’re to wrap up talks in May and report back to the court June 9.

The case raises questions that go beyond whether identical twins should be raised together or apart, or even how much power the state can wield over families. Can a man with cognitive disabilities so serious that he can’t think abstractly, manage money or care for himself, give informed consent to a marriage and intimate relationship? And does the equation change if that disabled person marries someone of normal intelligence, who then becomes empowered to make the most fundamental life decisions?

Morris suffers from a long list of maladies requiring powerful medications. He has the intellectual capacity of a kindergartner. He can’t think abstractly, manage money or make his own medical decisions, according to court documents.

Morris’ identical twin brother, Moore, of San Clemente, and two aunts seeking to oust Spicer as conservator, have “grave concerns” that Spicer “may be sexually abusing and controlling” Ryan, causing irreparable harm, they said in court filings.

Spicer has said that he and Morris love each other and that he’s taking good care of Morris. A publicly-appointed attorney said Morris doesn’t want a change in conservators, and fears his biological family is trying to break up his marriage.

The fate of the identical twins has been in court before. The brothers were swept into state custody shortly after their birth in 1994; their mother had a history of mental illness and had not received prenatal care. Ronald was healthy; Ryan was not. Their grandmother sought custody of both boys, but got only Ronald. Ryan was kept in foster care because of his many special needs, which social workers said were beyond his grandmother’s ability to address.

Foster mother Michelle Morris decided to adopt Ryan, and despite the biological family’s vehement protests, the state approved the adoption in 2002. Michelle Morris cut off communication with the biological family soon after. Ryan Morris’ biological family was stunned, in 2015, to learn that Morris was married, despite having the intellectual capacity of a kindergartner.

Last month, Judge Thomas Cahraman noted that the unusual case involves complex issues of psychology and sociology, and is fraught with strong emotion. The saga was captured in “Twins Divided,” a three-part series by the Southern California News Group. Readers reacted passionately.

Part 1: Twins, divided: Is one man happily married or a victim of sexual abuse?
Part 2: Twins, divided: Confusion, concern and ‘I do’
Part 3: Twins, divided: Brothers will see each other in court

“None of us know how the Ryan Morris case will turn out but it appears to me that once again, a system designed to protect the most innocent and vulnerable citizens of our society has failed,” said Jerry Villanueva, a retired investigator with the San Bernardino County District Attorney’s Office.

“I am terribly sad for the family of Ryan and Ronald, sad for the twins, and angry at those who did so much harm to a family, and to brothers, for years,” said Pat Colin of Orange. “Ryan clearly did not, and does not, have the capacity to enter into a marriage contract, or any other contract, on his own. I pray he gets the help he will need for the rest of his life, with his brother leading the way looking out for him.”

Full Article & Source: 
Trial date set as twin challenges disabled brother’s husband for guardianship

Part 1: Twins, divided: Is one man happily married or a victim of sexual abuse?

Ryan Morris & Grandmother

Ryan Morris and Ronald Moore began life as one.

Identical twins start as a single embryo that collapses in on itself, creating two balls of cells where once there was one. They grow into two genetically identical human beings.

Twenty-three years later, Ryan and Ronald could scarcely be more different.

Consigned to separate childhoods by the state of California shortly after their birth, their disparate lives stand in stark contrast to their identical genes.

Ronald drives a pickup, works as a client-relations and facility manager for an imaging company and practices mixed martial arts. He enjoys making art in different mediums and says family is No. 1.

Ryan suffers from a long list of maladies requiring powerful medications. He has the intellectual capacity of a kindergartener. He can’t make his own medical decisions and requires a legal guardian to protect him.

Ryan also is married to that guardian, Sean Spicer. He is a truck driver 18 years Ryan’s senior.

Despite their differences, one piece of twin lore seems to hold true for Ryan and Ronald. After long separations, reunited twins often report a profound and intense intimacy that one researcher described as being as close to “the coordinated, harmonious relations for which we all strive” as two human beings are likely to get.

When Ryan and Ronald finally saw one another at a Temecula courthouse after more than a dozen years apart, they threw their arms around one another in a powerful embrace captured in family photos and video. Onlookers wept as the twins clung to one another, rocking slowly from side to side. In court, Ryan refused to let go of Ronald’s hand.

“All I know, and have ever known, is that I love my identical twin brother and want so much to see him,” Ronald would later argue in a petition to Riverside Superior Court, seeking to be appointed one of Ryan’s legal guardians.

“I want to hug him, talk to him, play with him, and let him know that he matters to me and the rest of the family. I want a stable relationship with my twin brother, and to be involved and active in his life, as a brother and friend.”

It’s a battle Ronald and his biological family have been waging for nearly two decades – one that has made headlines in years past and is scheduled for a hearing this week that could force a pivotal legal decision in a case that raises uncomfortable questions.

Those questions go beyond whether identical twins should be raised together or apart, or even how much power the state can wield over families.

Can a man with cognitive disabilities so serious that he can’t think abstractly, manage money or care for himself, give informed consent to a marriage and intimate relationship?

And does the equation change if that disabled person marries someone of normal intelligence, who then becomes his court-appointed caretaker, empowered to make the most fundamental life decisions?

Disability-rights advocates approached such questions cautiously. Relationships between the cognitively disabled and those of regular intelligence are rare, but activists have fought to secure the rights of disabled people to marry and fully express their sexuality. The goal has been to give individuals more freedom, not less.

“People with developmental disabilities – particularly intellectual disabilities – have been marginalized,” said Katie Hornberger, director of Clients’ Rights Advocacy for the nonprofit Disability Rights California. “People treat them as giant children. If they have the intellectual capacity of a 5-year-old, well, that’s how they scored on a test.

“But there’s a lot of knowledge that comes from existing in this world,” Hornberger said. “I need help to ride a city bus, but my clients with intellectual disabilities do that every day of their lives. Who’s smarter?

“The right to control marriage and sexual contact are just such fundamental human rights,” she added. “They should not be proscribed.”

Robert D. Dinerstein, director of the Disability Rights Law Clinic at American University’s Washington College of Law in Washington, D.C., said a person under a full conservatorship can consent to a marriage or a sexual relationship, but court tests might be necessary.

The decision is contextual and requires examining a number of factors, including whether the person has “a sufficient understanding, perhaps with the support of others, of the relationship he or she is about to enter,” Dinerstein said. Also important is determining whether he or she can weigh the pros and cons of the choice involved, and “somewhat more controversially whether he or she can appreciate the nature of the decision (and its broader implications).”

And, of course, one would want to make sure that no one was coercing the person to engage in the relationship against the person’s will, Dinerstein said.

Something in the balance of power between Ryan and his husband profoundly disturbs his twin brother, sister, aunts and grandmother. They have “grave concerns,” voiced in court filings, that Ryan’s husband “may be sexually abusing and controlling” him, causing irreparable harm.

Spicer, Ryan’s husband and legal conservator, said that’s untrue. He’s doing his best to take good care of Ryan, he told the court, and Ryan wants him to remain as conservator. “Does he get a say in this matter?” the husband asked.

Indeed, Ryan does have a say, a Riverside County judge said. But the judge ordered the Public Guardian’s office to investigate the situation nonetheless, and explain why a neutral party, such as the Public Guardian’s office itself, shouldn’t step in as Ryan’s guardian.

The unusual case has complex legal and emotional crosscurrents, and those officially charged with assessing Ryan’s well-being have come to opposite conclusions.

The publicly funded attorney appointed to represent Ryan says Ryan is happy living with his husband, and favors the status quo. Under no circumstances does Ryan want his family members as conservators, because he believes they are trying to break up his marriage and are engaged in “heavy-handed harassment against his chosen life partner,” Ryan’s attorney argued in court documents.

The state investigator who recently conducted the judge’s court-ordered review questioned Ryan’s comprehension of his wedding, and gave a positive review to Ryan’s biological family, concluding it could offer “a genuinely viable alternative” to naming the state as Ryan’s legal guardian.

Indeed, every person and every agency that has ever had influence over Ryan’s life – government social workers, the court system, his biological family, the foster mother who adopted him and now Ryan’s husband – insist that they only want what’s best for Ryan, and are striving to give him the freedom he deserves.

But they have very different ideas about what that means.

TWO BIRTHDAYS

Ronald and Ryan were born three months early at Huntington Beach Hospital, as tiny and frail as baby birds. Ronald, the healthy twin, came late in the evening on Jan. 9, 1994; Ryan followed 2½ hours later, after midnight on Jan. 10.

The infants were swept immediately into county custody. Their mother had a history of mental illness and had not received prenatal care, according to a social worker’s report at the time. Grandmother Tamara Mukai Mazzei said she sat vigil most every night for six months as the babies struggled in intensive care, heading to work at a San Clemente beauty salon the next day, bleary-eyed. Mukai Mazzei had been in similar circumstances before: She was raising her troubled daughter’s two older children, and intended to take the boys as soon as they were strong enough to come home.

Mukai Mazzei, an intense Italian immigrant with startling green eyes and shimmering red hair, thought it was only logical that the twins grow up with their big sisters, Jamie and Krystal, and all the aunts and uncles and cousins in their big, extended family.

When the twins were about 16 months old, Mukai Mazzei got half her wish. Ronald was healthy enough to come home. Ryan wasn’t.

Ryan had been diagnosed with cerebral palsy, asthma and other maladies, according to court records.

 His motor skills and speech were impaired. He was prone to seizures. He required care 24/7, much more specialized care than Mukai Mazzei could give, officials told her. Mukai Mazzei told social workers that she’d be happy to learn whatever skills were necessary. But Ryan was placed in one specialized foster home after another for the first few years of his life – care that cost the county some $5,000 per month. At the time, the state would only provide such financial support to foster care and institutional programs, not to families of patients.

Mukai Mazzei, Ronald and the sisters visited Ryan weekly and often took him home for overnight visits. Ronald’s bedroom was yellow, brimming with books and toys, and optimistically furnished with two beds – one for each twin. “We used to play, go to the beach, sing songs and watch the trains pass in San Clemente,” sister Jamie Moore said in court documents. “I always remembered how Ryan loved the train … he would smile, point and say, ‘CHOO CHOO!’”

The bond between the brothers was obvious, Jamie said. “Sometimes they would just go on and on, mimicking each other and laughing, that they forgot anyone else was even there.”

Family members never gave up hope they’d bring Ryan home for good. Then, as the twins approached their fourth birthday, Ryan was transferred to a foster home in the Tustin foothills that catered to severely disabled children. Most could not walk or speak. Mukai Mazzei worried Ryan would become isolated and lonely, living with children so much more disabled than he.

“Who will he play with?” Mukai Mazzei wondered.

‘IF I SHOULD DIE BEFORE I WAKE’

The Tustin foster home was run by Michelle Morris, who’d worked in the past for Los Angeles County as an adoption social worker. She’d also written “If I Should Die Before I Wake,” a disturbing 1982 novel about father-daughter incest. It was based on a friend’s experience, she said, and she hoped to raise awareness about sexual abuse.

The book evolved into an off-Broadway play, and Morris became a regular at benefits for abused children, she told the Register more than a decade ago. At a Costa Mesa home for medically fragile children, she met a lanky 7-year-old with cerebral palsy who stole her heart. Learning to love the child taught Morris a great deal: “If you’re a religious person … you feel closer to God,” she told the Los Angeles Times in 1992. “These children call out the best in us.”

Morris declined to be interviewed for this story. But in a 2004 interview with the Register, she said that as disabled children in foster care grow up, they’re often moved to different homes. “You need a home all your life, not just when you’re little and cute,” she said.

Morris and her husband, Larry Kerin, formed the Lifeplan Children’s Services nonprofit in the 1990s and opened the Michelle Morris Family Home for disabled children. She was licensed by the state to care for six severely disabled children. The beds filled up quickly.

“Clean, good condition,” concluded the first annual review conducted by the Orange County Regional Center, a quasi-governmental organization that contracts with the state to provide services for the disabled. “Pass with flying colors. Additional staff are on board to provide services above and beyond the call of duty. Good job!”

Some parents who placed disabled children in Morris and Kerin’s home praised the couple as a godsend, saying they finally had peace of mind that their children were being well cared-for.

But there were complaints, too, ranging from neglect and lack of supervision to improper record-keeping, according to state records. In 1997 – the year that Ryan arrived – state investigators said Morris’ husband left a 9-year-old, nonverbal child at a Social Services office in frustration after the state failed to pay for the child’s care for two consecutive months. Kerin apologized, according to state records, but regulators declared his presence “a threat to the health and safety” of the children.

He was forbidden to enter Morris’ foster home. No charges were filed, and he was later granted permission to return.

ADOPTED

Ryan’s grandmother and Morris quickly clashed. Mukai Mazzei feared Ryan wasn’t getting enough positive role models in a home with such severely disabled children. She felt Morris was motivated by the $5,000 a month she received for his care, and that Morris overstated Ryan’s problems to get more money, according to court documents filed in 2000 by Mukai Mazzei as part of the custody fight over Ryan.

Morris argued that Mukai Mazzei was in denial about Ryan’s disabilities and didn’t supervise him adequately when he spent nights at Mukai Mazzei’s house. Morris also alleged that Mukai Mazzei didn’t follow Ryan’s medical regimen correctly and that he would return to Morris’ foster home with scrapes and bruises. Visits with his siblings overstimulated him and made him prone to dangerous seizures, Morris said in court documents.

Mukai Mazzei said that scrapes and bruises happen when children are finally free to run and play, but officials concluded that she was in denial about the severity of Ryan’s disabilities. The biological family’s visits with Ryan were curtailed. When Ryan was 5, Morris declared her intention to adopt him, prompting an all-out war over the little boy with the wire-rim glasses.

“There are so many children out there that need a loving home, why are you going to steal a child from a family that wants him, especially a twin?” asked the twins’ aunt, Monica Mukai.

Generally, the law awards custody to family members, but not when a child has been in long-term foster care. Then, the burden is on the biological family to prove that the foster placement – the stable thing in his life – is harmful.

In Juvenile Court, county social workers again sided with Morris. Grandmother Mukai didn’t have an adequate understanding of Ryan’s special needs and couldn’t provide the level of one-on-one, 24-hour supervision that Morris could, a social worker’s report said. Ryan also had forged a strong bond with Morris and made great developmental strides in her care, Morris’ attorney argued – progress that would be jeopardized if Ryan went to his biological family.

“They said I did it for the money,” Morris told the Register at the time. “That’s a joke. I did it because we love him.”

The adoption was finalized in 2002. Ryan’s biological family had visitation rights as long as it was in Ryan’s best interest.

Morris concluded it wasn’t, claiming Ryan’s biological relatives were trying to turn him against his adoptive family. Communication ceased.

“I was not even allowed to say goodbye,” Mukai Mazzei said. “To him, Grandma just disappeared.”

The twins were 8 that first Christmas after the adoption, when Ronald wrote a letter to Ryan that was turned away by Morris, according to the grandmother. Two smiling stick figures stood tall on a hill.

“I miss you,” the letter said. “I would like to see you again. I love you. We are brothers forever and ever.”

Ronald did not see Ryan again until 2015, after their 22nd birthday. Ronald would be surprised to learn he had a brother-in-law.

Full Article & Source:
Part 1: Twins, divided: Is one man happily married or a victim of sexual abuse?

Part 2: Twins, divided: Confusion, concern and ‘I do’

The wedding was held near Murrieta, in the majestic backyard of Michelle Morris’ home.

Video shows two grooms in matching gray tuxedos with white roses on their lapels. They clasped hands beneath a white gazebo festooned with white bunting on that warm fall afternoon in 2014.

“With this ring, I take you as my husband, for as long as we both shall live,” said Sean Spicer, in response to prompts from officiator Susan Bird-Santo, one of Ryan Morris’ legal guardians at the time.

The other groom, Ryan, who state evaluators have concluded has the intellectual capacity of a kindergartener, mumbled and made noises, then stared silently at his hand as Spicer slipped a ring on his finger. Bird-Santo then asked Ryan to repeat the wedding vows.

Ryan hesitated. “I’ve never done this before,” he said in a thick, quiet voice.

“Well, I know,” Bird-Santo said. “Hopefully it’s the last time you’ll do it. … Do you want to just put the ring on Sean’s finger? Are you promising to be his husband forever and love him no matter what?

Until you’re not alive anymore, until you die and even after that probably? Yeah?”

There was some confusion.

“Baptize in the name of Jesus,” Ryan said.

“It’s not a baptism,” Spicer said. “It’s a wedding.”

There was laughter, and Bird-Santo coached Ryan again.

“If you want to take Sean as your husband for the rest of your life, you need to give a symbol so he’ll know that, and he’ll remember it, like you have this ring on your hand,” she said. “So, now you put that ring on his hand.”

Ryan concentrated, trying his best, but the ring wouldn’t slip over Spicer’s knuckle. “It’s hard to get on – push it on there,” Bird-Santo said.

Finally, the ring slid onto Spicer’s finger.

Ryan Morris, 20, and Sean Spicer, 38, were married.

SEPARATION

Ryan’s identical twin brother, Ronald Moore, and their biological family, did not know the wedding took place until four months later.

They had been kept at a distance by Ryan’s adoptive mother for most of Ryan’s life. Ronald only saw the wedding video after the fact. Ryan’s apparent confusion – which Spicer later said was just Ryan joking around – alarmed his blood relatives, and the video later would become a cornerstone of their challenge to oust Ryan’s legal guardian.

Their battle to be part of Ryan’s life had been long and bitter. The twins were taken from their troubled parents shortly after birth in 1994. Ronald — who is not mentally or physically challenged — was allowed to go home with his grandmother, but officials kept Ryan in specialized foster care homes, despite his biological family’s objections. Such homes could better deal with Ryan’s many disabilities, officials said.

When Ryan was an infant, the payment for his day-to-day care – a state-funded stipend of $5,000 a month – could, by law, go to a licensed foster home but not to his relatives. By the time those restrictions were lifted, about six years later, state officials said Ryan had formed a bond with his foster mother and would be harmed if that bond was broken. His grandmother fought for custody, but in 2002 Ryan’s foster mother, Michelle Morris, legally adopted the boy.

Morris cut off contact soon after, saying in court filings and Register interviews at the time that Ryan’s blood relatives didn’t accept his disabilities and were trying to undermine his adoptive family.

His sisters and brother and aunts and grandmother sent Ryan Christmas presents, birthday presents, letters declaring their love and sorrow – but the offerings were never accepted and turned away, his grandmother said.

Until a hearing in a Temecula court, in 2015, the identical twins hadn’t seen each other since they were 8 years old.

PAPER WINDOW

For many years, Ryan’s biological family could only glimpse into his life by reading the public files kept on Morris’ foster home. They watched from afar, and worried.

Between 1998 and 2003, while Ryan was living with Morris, the Orange County Sheriff’s Department received five calls involving reports of possible child abuse, rape, sex crimes and lewd conduct at Morris’ home, then in the Tustin foothills, according to call logs. State records showed that in May 2001, a male staff member was allegedly found naked in bed with a female child.

The Sheriff’s Department investigated the allegations, but made no arrests, officials said.

During the same time frame, the Orange County Regional Center – the quasi-public agency that funds services for the disabled with public dollars – also voiced serious concerns about “the quality of care and health and safety of the consumers residing at the Michelle Morris Home,” according to documents provided to the Register.

Morris denied there were any serious problems. She also fought back, suing the center and accusing officials there of slander, defamation and violations of child-abuse reporting laws. Officials wrongly accused Morris of suffering from “Munchhausen-By-Proxy” – a behavior disorder where caretakers exaggerate children’s health problems to gain attention and sympathy – and of subjecting children to unnecessary or inappropriate medical treatment, among other things, Morris’ suit said.

Lawyers for the Regional Center called her suit “convoluted.” But the agency’s insurer ultimately agreed to settle the case and pay Morris $750,000, with no admission of wrongdoing, rather than face a jury trial where disabled children could take the stand. At the time, Morris’ comment was simple: “We are being persecuted.”

Morris also clashed with the Tustin Unified School District, accusing employees there of harassment and abuse in court paperwork. She staged sit-ins, claimed the district “baby-sits” children with special needs, and subsequently opened a state-funded school in her home run by her husband, Larry Kerin.

The state revoked the school’s license three years later. Kerin was “not found fully competent or credible,” administrative law judge Jaime René Román wrote in 2007. Kerin was manipulative, blamed others for the school’s deficiencies and did not shy from threats of litigation to compel others’ actions, Román wrote.

Morris and Kerin had passionate defenders.

Hogan Hilling, an author and father’s rights advocate in Orange who placed his severely disabled son in their care, called them saints and said he would trust them with his life. An administrative law judge overseeing the placement of a teen accused of physical violence and sexually molesting children praised Morris for exemplary service to the disabled.

Ryan’s blood family fumed. Adopting disabled children had become part of the business model for Morris, they argued, claiming that each time Morris adopted one of her foster-care children she opened an additional foster bed as a source of new revenue. That process, they said, essentially doubled her payments from the state, as she received adoption assistance for her legal children in addition to foster-care payments for her foster children.

At its height, Morris had 10 children in her home, with payments of some $50,000 per month for their care, records show.

Morris at that time told the Register she was sick of the harassment in Orange County. She moved her foster home to Murrieta in Riverside County in 2007.

Ryan’s biological family was crushed.

“My only hope is God,” his grandmother Tamara Mukai Mazzei said that year. “I question him. ‘How can this happen?’

“But I should not start questioning God.”

‘MY BOYFRIEND’

The new $1.57-million, 7,000-square-foot Murrieta house was twice as big as the one in Tustin and sat on more than four acres of scrubby hills. Ryan shared a room with his adoptive brother. There he grew from an awkward ’tween to a young man.

In San Clemente, surrounded by a bustling extended family, Ryan’s identical twin, Ronald, also grew up, missing his brother. “Mentally, emotionally and spiritually – his absence affects me,” Ronald said by email. “Not having contact with him and getting the opportunity to know him affects me. It’s a constant enigma – it’s emotionally walking in the dark.”

Did Ryan feel Ronald’s absence as acutely – or at all? Those were among the questions haunting his biological family.

While Ronald was learning to drive, practicing martial arts and graduating from high school in San Clemente, Ryan was becoming a regular at the Corona house of Morris’ brother, Gregory Morris. It was there that Ryan, then 17, met Sean Spicer, who was 35.

Spicer was the ex-boyfriend of a man who rented a room from Gregory Morris. Spicer installed and serviced automatic doors for a Riverside firm, and stopped by Morris’ place when he had jobs nearby. His email address invoked a Bible verse that speaks to appreciating what you have: “Not that I speak in respect of want: for I have learned, in whatsoever state I am, therewith to be content.” A graduate of Riverside’s Ramona High School, Spicer seemed to acquaintances to be warm and self-deprecating, joking about taking college classes and computer courses he didn’t understand.
Ryan was soon smitten.

The relationship was Ryan’s idea, not his, Spicer said in a sworn deposition taken as part of the legal guardian battle.

“I was actually one of the last people to find out. … I told Ryan, ‘Not until you’re 18, kid.’ Those were my specific words. My thought there was, first of all, let’s keep this legal; 17 (and) 35 is illegal on so many levels.”

Ryan, however, was impatient, constantly asking, “‘How many days until I turn 18? That’s when I can have my boyfriend,’” Spicer said.

Two important things happened in early 2012.

While the state’s legal responsibility for young Ryan ended when Morris became his legal mother, the state returned to the picture when he turned 18. When disabled children become disabled adults deemed unable to make major decisions about such things as finance and health care, the court appoints conservators to make those decisions for them. In Ryan’s case, Michelle Morris, his mother, and her brother Gregory, stepped into the role of “co-conservators,” and were granted all the powers a parent has over a child: where Ryan would live, what medical treatments he would receive, and whether he could have intimate relationships. His biological family wasn’t notified about conservatorship proceedings, according to court records.

After Ryan reached legal adulthood, Michelle and Gregory Morris allowed Ryan and Spicer to start dating. Spicer was Ryan’s first and only boyfriend, Spicer said at his deposition, and it was Ryan who decided they should get married.

“I only agreed to it after several times of meetings with his teachers and everybody to make sure that – teachers, therapists, parents – to make sure that he understood exactly what we were getting into,” Spicer said.

Asked if he believed Ryan had the capacity to consent to marriage even though his cognitive skills are akin to a kindergartener’s, Spicer said, “Yes, because Ryan knows who he loves.”

An investigator from the Riverside County Public Guardian’s office, however, wasn’t so sure Ryan knew what he was getting into.

Full Article & Source:
Part 2: Twins, divided: Confusion, concern and ‘I do’

Part 3: Twins, divided: Brothers will see each other in court

Ronald Moore & Ryan Morris

Tamara Mukai Mazzei knew she wasn’t welcome at Michelle Morris’ home, but she trudged up the steep driveway nonetheless.

In her arms were gifts for her grandson, Ryan Morris. He was turning 21 and Mukai Mazzei brought a new winter jacket and several slick new shirts. As she walked the drive that day, in 2015, Mukai Mazzei hadn’t been allowed to see Ryan for nearly 13 years, but she still knew which sizes he wore: After all, she had raised Ryan’s identical twin brother, Ronald, since he was a baby.

Mukai Mazzei had fought bitterly for the right to raise Ryan as well, but the state separated the identical twins and allowed Morris, a foster care provider and former social worker, to adopt Ryan.

Through years of court battles, Morris painted Mukai Mazzei as a bit off, saying she refused to acknowledge her grandson’s disabilities, wanted to take him off his medications, didn’t watch him properly.

All untrue, said Mukai Mazzei. She still can’t fathom how the state could take Ryan away, how Morris could refuse to let Ryan’s biological family see him, talk to him or even give him a birthday present for 13 years.

Mukai Mazzei had never been this close to Morris’ Murrieta house, a sprawling 7,000-square foot building on more than 4 hilly acres. It’s Morris’ home and her business, where she operates a state-licensed foster care facility for disabled children. She is licensed to care for five foster children, and she is legally the parent of five adopted disabled children of her own.

Morris’ husband, Larry Kerin, came to the door, Mukai Mazzei said.

She demanded to see Ryan.

Kerin told her to leave, or he’d call the police, she said.

Words were exchanged, but it ended the way her efforts to connect with Ryan usually did: Mukai Mazzei left in tears, still clutching the gifts she hoped to give her grandson.

Through her attorney, Morris declined to comment for this story, citing “multiple and complex” privacy concerns and pending litigation. In court documents and past interviews with the Register, Morris said she eliminated visits with Ryan’s biological relatives because the encounters left him agitated and prone to dangerous seizures.

AN OPENING

After Mukai Mazzei’s abortive visit to Morris’ home, the biological family began researching Ryan’s status now that he was a legal adult. They learned California law provides court-appointed conservatorships, or legal guardianships, to protect disabled adults. Those guardianships are reviewed every two years by a judge.

Michelle Morris and her brother Gregory were appointed Ryan’s conservators when he turned 18.

Morris later asked the court to remove her brother and replace him with a long-time caregiver in her home, Susan Bird-Santo. Ryan’s biological family decided to challenge Ryan’s conservatorship in court in 2015. When they approached Gregory Morris, hoping to secure a statement for their case, they learned Ryan was married and living with his husband, Sean Spicer, in a double-wide mobile home in Romoland, in Riverside County between Perris and Menifee.

News of the marriage stunned Ryan’s biological relatives. Court-ordered assessments of Ryan described him as having the intellectual capacity of a kindergartener and the verbal abilities of a 4-year-old. He was unable to think abstractly, manage money or give informed medical consent. He struggled to keep track of the day, date, season or year, and understand where he was, or why he was there. He was also “substantially unable” to resist fraud or undue influence, the assessments said
.
And yet he was legally married.

Ryan’s biological relatives reached out to Spicer and welcomed him to the family. Spicer received them warmly, and said he was open to having them in Ryan’s life.

But that decision belonged to Ryan’s conservators, Michelle Morris and Bird-Santo.

IN-LAWS

Spicer’s own relationship with Morris was complicated. She was both his employer and, legally, his mother-in-law.

Spicer met Ryan years earlier, through Morris’ brother Gregory, and they started dating after Ryan’s 18th birthday, according to court documents. At times, Morris forbade them from seeing one another. But she also hired Spicer in the summer of 2014 to help care for the disabled residents in her home, Spicer said in a deposition for the conservator battle. She approved of their union, and hosted their wedding in her yard, Spicer said.

But just months into the marriage, Morris accused Spicer of being emotionally unstable, Spicer said in the deposition. Tensions increased when Ronald Moore, Ryan’s identical twin, filed a legal petition in March 2015 seeking to oust Morris and Bird-Santo as Ryan’s legal guardians, and appoint Spicer instead. Morris objected, arguing that conservatorship was not the proper role for a spouse, Spicer said in the deposition.

Ryan confronted Morris, saying he wanted Spicer to be his conservator, according to Spicer.

In July 2015, Ryan for the first time attended a court hearing on his conservatorship at the Temecula courthouse. Ryan’s biological family descended en masse: They hadn’t seen Ryan, now 21, since he was 8.

In court, the judge asked Ryan what he wanted. Ryan said he wanted Spicer as his conservator, and to visit his twin brother. Ryan could visit with whomever he wished, the judge said.

Afterward, his biological relatives poured into the courtyard, weeping, laughing and swarming around Ryan. “I was waiting for this day for so long, bello,” Maukai Mazzei said, stroking Ryan’s cheek. “We didn’t even see a picture of you.”

Morris and Bird-Santo resigned as conservators in the fall of 2015 and were replaced by Spicer. Ryan’s biological relatives felt he was finally free, and they were eager to rekindle a relationship with him.

LOST TIME

Initially, Spicer wanted Ryan’s biological family to be part of their lives. They “all seem like kind, loving people that care about Ryan and myself,” Spicer wrote in an email that became an exhibit at his deposition. “They are supportive of our marriage and are happy that he has found someone to spend forever with.”

The family visited Ryan and Spicer in Romoland. Ryan and Spicer made overnight trips to visit the family in San Juan Capistrano and San Clemente. They traded frequent phone calls. Ryan took to chanting his brother’s name over and over, according to the deposition.

Ryan’s relatives soon grew concerned. Ryan struggled with basic self-care tasks, such as buttoning his shirt and brushing his teeth. He had bouts of violence and didn’t seem to grasp social boundaries, sometimes touching people inappropriately, according to court paperwork. Ryan said he had been sexually abused as a child, Spicer said at his deposition, allegedly involving a man working the night shift in Morris’ home. The Orange County Sheriff’s Department investigated the allegations, but no arrests were made.

The biological family wanted to do more for Ryan, including paying for specialized therapy and training. They worried about Spicer’s emphasis on gaining Ryan’s compliance by withholding electronics or visits with his relatives when he acted out. They argued that Ryan is allowed to see who he wants, without needing permission from Spicer or Spicer’s parents, who lived together in the Romoland mobile home.

Spicer countered that Ryan’s biological relatives had become domineering and difficult.

A NEW SPLIT

“Sean is breaking down here,” Spicer’s mother, Theresa Spicer, said in recorded voice messages left for Ryan’s aunt in December 2015, entered as exhibits at Spicer’s deposition. “He feels you’re giving him absolutely no control over Ryan’s life…. If Sean divorces Ryan, he’s taking him back to Michelle. And if he does that, you’re never going to see him again, you know that.”

Ryan was treated well, she said. When he misbehaved, he was simply grounded for a couple days, “like you would with a normal kid.”

Visits and communication essentially ceased. Last March, Ryan’s brother, Ronald, filed a new court petition, this time seeking to remove Spicer as conservator.

Ryan did not have the capacity to enter into a marriage, the petition argues, “as demonstrated by their wedding video, which clearly shows that Ryan was coaxed into marrying the Conservator and did not understand what was happening at the wedding ceremony, thinking instead that it was a baptism.”

Based on this “obvious lack of informed consent,” as well as the fact that Spicer was nearly two decades older, the petition says, Ryan’s family “has grave concerns that the Conservator may be sexually abusing and controlling him.”

“Do you believe this is a matter of mutual understanding, adult love?” Spicer was asked at his deposition.

“Yes,” Spicer said.

“Although his cognition is significantly less than a 22-year-old, you don’t see it as a matter of sexual opportunism?”

“No,” Spicer said. “Ryan is the one that initiates sexual contact. Ryan knows what he wants in that regard.”

Ryan’s court-appointed attorney said that Ryan objects to his family members being appointed as his conservators, and is angry and resentful over the litigation. He believes his family’s efforts “are designed to break up his marriage…against his express wishes, and serves as heavy-handed harassment against his life partner,” Ryan’s attorney said in court papers.

Spicer did not respond to requests to be interviewed for this story, and Ryan’s attorney declined to make him available for comment.

Spicer entered a new line of work in 2016: long-distance trucking. He was on the road for weeks at a stretch – about 25 days of every 30 – and Ryan went with him, according to the deposition.

His biological family worried Ryan was no longer receiving regular education or therapy services, instead spending long days and nights inside a big rig cab. Was that what he wanted?

Spicer argued Ryan was better off, getting to see America, rather than attending repetitive and dull work programs for the disabled.

But the conflict took its toll: Fearing big legal bills, Spicer resigned as Ryan’s conservator in August, then rescinded that resignation days later, according to court documents.

NEUTRAL EYES

The arguments have piled up for months in the conservatorship battle in Riverside County probate court. A judge ordered the Riverside Public Guardian’s office – the county agency charged with handling the affairs of people who can’t care for themselves – to evaluate Ryan’s situation and report back on whether the state should take over as his conservator.

Investigator Barbara J. Burkhart visited with Ryan and Spicer at the Romoland mobile home. A lock and chain secured the front gate, and she was greeted by several barking dogs. “Initial impression of the property was that it was cluttered with junk and neglected,” Burkhart wrote in a report reviewed by the Register. “The home had minor housekeeping concerns, but overall unremarkable.”

Ryan was alert to his name and partial birthdate, Burkhart wrote, but had difficulty holding his head upright, recalling his address, knowing the date. He rocked back and forth and had “severe difficulty” answering complex questions requiring critical thinking, the report said. He said he liked where he lived, and did not like court hearings. Sean Spicer’s parents, Theresa and Frank Spicer, appeared to have genuine concern for Ryan, “but their knowledge of the needs of persons with intellectual disabilities appears limited. Mrs. Spicer also stated that since Ryan hit her, she no longer will do things for him.”

The Spicers said that Ryan’s aunt, Monica Mukai, wanted to gain conservatorship because she doesn’t feel Ryan is gay, wants to break up the marriage and take Ryan off his medications.

Burkhart asked who was involved in the marriage decision. Spicer said marriage was Ryan’s idea, and was approved by his mother Morris, and by Ryan’s therapist.

Burkhart tried three times to schedule a follow-up visit with Ryan to ask more questions. Her calls were not returned, the report says.

Then Burkhart visited with the relatives seeking to become Ryan’s conservators: twin Ronald and his two aunts. They met at aunt Monica Mukai’s cottage on San Juan Capistrano’s historic Los Rios Street. “The tree-lined street is filled with boutique shops and restaurants,” Burkhart wrote. “The area was bustling with community activities and tourists. The home was clean, nicely decorated with antiques and furnishings.”

The family expressed concern for Ryan’s overall health and welfare, but “at no time whatsoever did they express a desire to break up the marriage of Ryan and Sean Spicer, nor did they desire to discontinue Ryan’s medications.”

The family felt that Spicer, at first, appeared to have Ryan’s best interest at heart, but their concerns over Spicer’s mental stability grew. They felt Spicer became upset when he saw Ryan enjoying his family so much, Burkhart wrote. Ronald said he desperately wants to spend time with Ryan, and feels he can provide him with opportunities and the quality of life he deserves, her report says.

Then the family played the two-minute clip of Ryan and Spicer’s wedding video. “(I)t was evident that Ryan Morris had no comprehension of the marriage ceremony and what he was really getting himself into,” Burkhart wrote.

Ryan lacks the ability to manage his person and estate or resist fraud and undue influence, and “it was a concern that Ryan Morris contracted into a marriage of which he did not have the capacity, nor awareness of his contract,” Burkhart wrote. Ryan spent weeks at a time on a long-distance truck driver schedule, was not enrolled in school, provided “optimum healthcare services,” or activities compelling him to academic growth, she added.

“His family members are requesting an opportunity to provide the stability and resources which they feel Ryan needs and deserves. Family members Ronald Moore, Monica Mukai and Olivia Mukai-Lechner appear to be a genuinely viable alternative” to naming the Riverside County Public Guardian as Ryan’s conservator, Burkhart concluded.

This week, the tangled, emotional odyssey over what’s best for Ryan, and who should be trusted to ensure his welfare, reaches key legal juncture.

After a year of preliminary proceedings, a trial on the biological family’s petition to have blood relatives named as Ryan’s conservators is scheduled to begin Thursday, March 16. A newly assigned judge, Thomas Cahraman, will hear evidence in Department 8 of Riverside Superior Court and decide whether to preserve the status quo of Ryan’s guardianship or change it – for at least the next two years, until the next court review.

The family will ask the judge to appoint the Public Guardian as Ryan’s conservator while the case is heard. They want an outside set of eyes looking at Ryan’s welfare, they said.

Regardless of the outcome, Ryan’s grandmother, Mukai Mazzei, said she’ll never stop trying to bring Ryan back into her family.

“We have lost too much time.”

Full Article & Source:
Part 3: Twins, divided: Brothers will see each other in court