The threat next door

He likes to fish and ride in pickups. When he's angry, he snaps his glasses and tears his clothes, especially when he wants a cigarette. He entered the Texas system for the mentally retarded at 16, when his mother could no longer handle his tantrums. For the past six years, he has lived at a state school in Mexia.

Thomas is 37. He can write his first name but misspells his last. In 1993, while at another state school, he was charged with sexual assault. He didn't stand trial because of his retardation. About eight years ago, he was moved to Mexia.

For a short time last year, Toby and Thomas lived in adjacent rooms. That's because the Mexia State School houses some of Texas' most vulnerable residents in the same dorms as retarded men who have been accused of heinous crimes.

Over the following six months, Thomas was sent away and Toby fell silent. And Toby's mother made life for her son worse by trying, and failing, to change a system that she believes puts him and others like him in danger.

It was Geary Smith, Toby's caseworker. His voice was calm, giving nothing away. There had been an incident involving her son, he said. An inappropriate sexual incident.

"Like what?" Dutton recalls asking. She could tell her voice was starting to rise.

Smith told her that he didn't have many details. He did say that Toby seemed all right and that the attacker had been moved to another dorm.

Dutton let the words sink in. Normally, her son carried a smile. How scared and lonely he must feel.

Questions crisscrossed her mind. How could this have happened? Where was the staff? Wouldn't someone have heard something?

Smith said there would be an investigation and promised to keep Dutton informed.

But Dutton resolved to seek out the details herself. In her sleuthing, she learned how Thomas came to live next door to her son.

Soon after Toby Green moved to Mexia (pronounced muh-hey-uh), 88 miles south of his home in Burleson, Dutton learned that the school had a program for adult offenders. Some were sent there after being accused of terrible crimes: Assault. Rape. Murder.

But they had been found incompetent to stand trial because of their retardation. If the state determined that these men were not "manifestly dangerous" -- a continuing threat to others -- they were eligible for the program.

The presence of these men on the same campus as other retarded men and women, some of whom can't feed themselves or talk, has been a point of contention since the program opened at Mexia in 1995.

As recently as 2002, a parents' group documented beatings, attempted rapes and car thefts committed by offenders at the three state schools with the program. But a report to the Legislature warned that the state might lose Medicaid funding for offenders if they were sent to a separate campus.

Most offenders at Mexia lived in the Whiterock Unit, where one-on-one supervision can be provided. Whiterock's doors can be locked, unlike those in most other dorms at the school.

"No freedom to come and go as you please," Dutton said. "You have to be escorted outside to smoke."

What Dutton didn't know was that the men could earn their way out with good behavior.

The staff is encouraged to move these men from Whiterock to less-restrictive areas: Perhaps to their own home. Perhaps to a group home. Perhaps to another dorm on the Mexia campus.

At some point, a school team voted to move Thomas to the Shamrock Unit, a dorm for the general population of mentally retarded men.

Toby struggled, but he couldn't yell out because Thomas had put a hand over his mouth.

That's what Toby told a school investigator the next morning. Toby explained that he was too scared to tell on Thomas right after he left the room. And Toby was worried about getting in trouble.

The investigator's job was to determine how one mentally retarded resident could have raped another in the middle of the night while staff walked the halls.

At first, Thomas denied visiting Toby's room. But after further questioning, he changed his story. The investigator added Thomas' statement to his report:

Thomas had sneaked into Toby's room at night. When staff members were at the other end of the hall, he went up to Toby's bed. He pulled the blanket back and pulled off Toby's underwear. Toby woke, told him to quit.

When Dutton read the report, she saw that the man accused of raping Toby had confessed, and that his version of the events matched her son's.

She and Toby had talked about the incident several times, and she didn't doubt his account -- even though he had once reported something that didn't happen.

When Toby arrived at Mexia, he called a state hot line to say that the staff had put him on the floor and kicked his ribs. But as soon as Dutton shared Toby's accusation with the rest of the family, her daughter remembered watching the same scenario on a recent episode of the TV action show Walker, Texas Ranger.

Dutton confronted Toby. He sheepishly admitted that he had lied. After seeing the show, some other guys who were mad at the staff had put him up to it.

But to Dutton, the rape accusation was different. Toby hadn't wavered. Thomas had confessed.

So Dutton expected law enforcement to be involved. She expected the school to scrutinize its safeguards. And she expected Thomas to go to jail.

At first glance, the school seemed to be handling the investigation by the book.

Its report showed that staff members on duty that night were interviewed and that Thomas and Toby received medical exams. Toby was to receive counseling. Thomas was moved back to Whiterock after he threatened Toby with retaliation. The school called Thomas' mother, Ester Campbell, to let her know about the allegations.

The Texas Department of Family and Protective Services had been notified at 7:56 a.m. on Oct. 19; DFPS, in turn, notified the Limestone County Sheriff's Department at 8:28 a.m., the report showed.

But the report was misleading. The state agency was indeed informed, but the school had described the incident as sexual contact between two adults. The school never used the word "forced." Or "rape." Or "assault."

What's more, no one had contacted the Limestone County Sheriff's Department. That part of the report just wasn't true.

Dutton began to suspect that the school wasn't treating the attack as a crime. The school's solution was to give Toby assertiveness training "to protect himself in similar situations."

After a month passed, and Dutton couldn't find out from the school what was happening with the criminal investigation, she called the Sheriff's Department.

Not a thing, Sgt. Mike Bell told her. He would call the school to request the incident report. But Bell never interviewed Toby, Dutton said; neither did any other law enforcement official.

Apparently, a Limestone County grand jury didn't need to hear from the victim. On Jan. 19, Thomas was indicted on sexual assault charges.

In his nearly two decades as a criminal lawyer in Mexia, Fred Neale knew the drill for handling cases involving the state school.

In his view, it didn't make sense to prosecute them. Mentally retarded victims often don't make good witnesses. Mentally retarded offenders often can't help in their own defense. Most are found incompetent to stand trial and are sent to a psychiatric hospital.

Neale knew that the hospital usually sent the men back to the Mexia State School. This case looked to be no different.

He described Toby and Thomas as "two folks who are mentally retarded. We are not going to be dealing with folks who are perfectly credible by their nature."

So Neale, Thomas' court-appointed attorney, followed routine and filed a motion asking that Thomas be sent back to the state school to receive his competency evaluation.

He was surprised, then, when an acquaintance within the Texas Department of Mental Health and Mental Retardation told him the agency didn't want to be involved in Thomas' competency evaluation. The case had become too hot.

Neale learned that Dutton had been calling state legislators and agencies saying that her son had been raped by an offender at Mexia.

In March, she drove to the state Capitol to speak at a news conference held by an advocacy group that supports state schools.

"We need the adult offender program moved to a separate campus," Dutton announced. "They shouldn't have been there in the first place."

He wanted Thomas out of jail, away from hardened criminals and back at Mexia. The school knew Thomas, understood his needs, could make sure he got his medication for his bipolar disorder and other mental illnesses.

Thomas had twice before been sent to a maximum-security unit at North Texas State Hospital, a psychiatric facility formerly known as Vernon State Hospital. He didn't stay long either time.

In 1993, Thomas was accused of sexually assaulting a female resident at the Brenham State School, a charge his mother always disputed. He thought the resident was his girlfriend, the mother said. Nonetheless, a Washington County grand jury indicted him on a charge of sexual assault. After a jury determined that Thomas was incompetent, he was sent to Vernon.

Sixteen months later, a hospital committee ruled Thomas was "not manifestly dangerous" and discharged him to a San Antonio halfway house. There, Thomas assaulted a staff member, court records show.

Dutton took a seat in the Limestone County courtroom in Groesbeck. It was the final day of March, and at last a judge would determine if Thomas would stand trial on a charge of rape.

She picked out Thomas in the juror box among the other defendants awaiting hearings.

He gazed around the aging courtroom often. He appeared to pay little mind to the conversation between the two men in suits and the judge. Their chatter was hushed, but snippets drifted out toward the gallery.

Neale was arguing that Thomas should be sent back to Mexia. Judge Deborah Oakes Evans saw it as a safety issue and would not release him.

District Attorney Roy DeFriend called Dutton to the stand. Would she be concerned about her son's safety if Thomas returned to Mexia, he asked.

"Are you aware your son has recanted the entire incident -- said he lied about it?" Neale asked.

The courtroom was silent. Dutton said nothing. Her blue eyes widened, and she stared at Neale. Moments passed before she leaned toward the microphone and answered, "No."

He had learned about the revelation only moments before. Neale had handed him signed statements from Mexia employees.

Thomas didn't rape Toby -- or at least that's what the employees were claiming to have heard from Toby's own mouth.

One statement was from a behavior therapist who interviewed Toby on March 18 about his aptitude for a program to stop smoking.

Dutton nodded. She already knew about that, she told DeFriend. At a meeting on March 7, staff members told Dutton that Toby had been allowing other residents to touch him in exchange for cigarettes.

Toby knew that he was lying and that his lies had led to those people being returned to Whiterock, the therapist wrote.

After the noon recess, Evans ruled that she had little choice but to send Thomas to Vernon -- despite the problems that had arisen with Toby's story. But Evans said that if DeFriend dropped the charges, Thomas could return to Mexia.

In the first days of April, Dutton replayed the courtroom hearing in her mind. The school was accusing her son of making up the attack, but the facts didn't add up.

And, as far as she knew, nobody other than Thomas had been sent to Whiterock because of an accusation from Toby.

The situation gnawed at her. For years, the staff had allowed Toby to volunteer with Mexia's most disabled residents. So far, that hadn't changed. Would they really let him volunteer if they thought he was a threat?

Dutton was worried about the conversation. The ordeal seemed to be taking a toll on Toby. His caseworker had called to say Toby was ripping his clothes more often in tantrums. He had been caught cussing and spitting. He shoved another resident -- something he had never done before.

Dutton and her husband, Charles, picked up Toby from the dorm and took him to lunch. After they chitchatted, Dutton broached a delicate subject with her son.

At first, Toby looked startled, and Dutton's husband spoke quickly to calm him. "It would be all right. The school would take care of him."

Toby turned back to his pizza, but Dutton signaled that she had another question.

"They want me to change my story and say it didn't happen, because they like Thomas and want him back here," Dutton remembers Toby saying. "But I'm not going to do it. It did happen. So I tell them I'm just not going to talk about it anymore."

Just as she had done when the whole mess started, Dutton picked up the phone and began calling state agencies.

This time, she accused school employees of pressuring Toby to deny the rape. The Department of Family and Protective Services began an investigation.

Yet Dutton suspects that state investigators will find it difficult to determine whether the school did anything wrong. After all, Toby is tired of talking about it.

"I hope they will leave him alone," she said. "I think if they let it die, he won't have problems with it."

As far as Ester Campbell is concerned, the matter is resolved. She said Thomas told her that Toby lied and that Dutton apologized to him, but he couldn't remember when that conversation took place. She also said she'd be glad to have her son back home in Dallas.

Toby is 31. He loves chocolate milk on a warm day, but he cuts himself with his razor when he's angry.

Thomas is 37. But his lawyer says he doesn't really understand how old he is. He has been accused of assault three times but has never stood trial.

For a short time, Toby and Thomas lived in adjacent rooms at a state school for the mentally retarded. Then, Toby accused Thomas of raping him.

Toby still lives in the Shamrock Unit but is now closely monitored to make sure he doesn't hurt himself.

Thomas is in a maximum-security unit at North Texas State Hospital in Vernon. But one day soon, he is likely to return to the Mexia State School.

The Texas Department of Aging and Disability Services oversees the Adult Offender Program, operated at three state institutions for the mentally retarded: the Corpus Christi State School, the Mexia State School and the San Angelo State School. The department recently answered Star-Telegram questions about the program.

Q: How do those who are mentally retarded get assigned to the Adult Offender Program?

A: Some adults served by the state mental retardation facilities have been found incompetent to stand trial on a criminal charge.

A: Many were originally committed to North Texas State Hospital-Vernon campus, which has the maximum-security unit. However, state law requires that a review board at that unit, within 60 days of admission, determine if the individual is manifestly dangerous. If the individual is found not to be, the law requires that he or she be transferred out, most often to a state mental retardation facility. Manifestly dangerous is a term used to describe someone who, despite receiving appropriate treatment, remains likely to endanger others.

Q: What kind of security is used in the Whiterock Unit, which houses the offender program at Mexia? Do those in the program intermingle with the general population in communal areas, such as the gym and the cafeteria?

A: Mexia State School provides supervision on three levels: regular, enhanced, and one-to-one, determined by the individual's interdisciplinary team based on needs and behavior. The school is not a correctional institution and has no cells, bars or barbed wire. One area of the Whiterock Unit has locked outside doors, primarily to prevent unauthorized departures. Adult alleged offenders may associate with other residents to whatever degree determined to be appropriate by their team.

Q: Individuals are apparently able to move from the Whiterock Unit to other units, based on behavior. How are the retarded residents in the other dorms protected?

A: The interdisciplinary team is responsible for determining an individual's services and level of supervision. Many factors are considered, including behavioral history and the characteristics of individuals in the proposed dorm area. Individuals in all homes are protected by the level of supervision as determined through the IDT process.

Q: Is it possible that someone in the Whiterock Unit could commit a crime, be charged, be found incompetent to stand trial and end up right back in Whiterock?

A: While this is possible, the criminal courts commit violent offenders to Vernon's maximum-security unit. The individual would remain in maximum security unless found to be not manifestly dangerous. If such a finding were made, the state would determine which facility would admit the individual.

Q: Are all criminal incidents that occur at the Mexia State School required to be reported to the Limestone County Sheriff's Department?

A: Criminal incidents that occur at Mexia State School are reported to the Limestone County Sheriff's Department if they are of a serious nature or if the individual served or their legally authorized representative wants to report it.

My heart goes out to families who have severly retarded children. Having to institutionalize your child in a place like this must be a constant nightmare.

I have no idea what the answer to this problem is.

2 posted on 05/29/2005 6:35:25 AM PDT by basil (Exercise your Second Amendment--buy another gun today!)

What Dutton didn't know was that the men could earn their way out with good behavior.

That's what candy and cigarettes are for. Statements like this make me wonder just who the devil is running the place.

3 posted on 05/29/2005 6:39:07 AM PDT by Mr Ramsbotham (Laws against sodomy are honored in the breech.)

I have a severely retarded older brother who I am co-guardian of (with my mom). He has lived in an institution since his early teens (when it got too difficult for my mom to change his diapers...he's 45 now and still wears them). I have no idea if he's ever been assaulted, because he cannot communicate with people. But, having been to these places and seen SOME of what goes on...it would not surprise me.

God bless you and your Mom. I know there must be a reason in God's plan---but I admit, I can't figure out what it is.

5 posted on 05/29/2005 7:56:27 AM PDT by basil (Exercise your Second Amendment--buy another gun today!)

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