Elder abuse now considered a felony in Minnesota

As a social worker in Blue Earth County for 23 years, Audrey Splinter can only remember one instance of abuse against an elderly or vulnerable adult that had to be reported. 

A neighbor was attempting to take financial advantage of an elderly woman by buying her property at an unfairly low price. 

Once the report was made, the case was turned over to the district attorney and was settled without any criminal charges.

The neighbor received no serious repercussions for his acts because until recently, crimes against elder and vulnerable adults were considered misdemeanors under Minnesota law. 

Harbir Kaur, Elder Victim Services Coordinator at the Tubman Elder Care and Rights Center, said her organization was one of 52 involved in the Vulnerable Adult Justice Project, which lobbied the Minnesota State legislature to approve a bill, that would make abuse against elder or vulnerable adults a felony in the state of Minnesota. 

The bill, which was supported by Governor Mark Dayton, passed earlier this month. Now those convicted of intentionally abusing elder or vulnerable adults could face a maximum penalty of 10 years in prison and a $10,000 fine.

Changing how Minnesota handles abuse cases is only one step in protecting elder and vulnerable adults. There needs to be education in place to inform these adults of their rights and how to report inappropriate behavior, as well, Kaur said. 

A 1998 National Elder Abuse Incidence Study said only about one in every five cases of abuse against elder or vulnerable adults is reported. Reporting abuse can be intimidating for an elder or a vulnerable adult Kaur said.

"One of their fears is that because they're getting the care, they don't want to report abuse and risk retaliation," Kaur said. "But they're dealing with that ongoing abuse."

At times, elder and vulnerable adults are also unaware of whom to contact to report abuse. 

"It's amazing. I go to the nursing homes and sometimes the resident don't know who to call if anything inappropriate is happening to them," Kaur said.

Through a grant from the Area on Aging, Kaur visits nursing homes and care facilities to educate the residents and their family members about their rights and how to report inappropriate activity. Kaur tries to empower the elder and vulnerable adults to protect themselves. Instances of abuse can be reported to a care facility ombudsman but can also be reported to family members, staff or social workers she said. 

Kaur will speak at a co-sponsored Minnesota State University, Mankato and South Central College extended learning course on May 11 about the prevention of abuse and neglect of vulnerable adults. She said the more people who are educated about elder abuse would increase protection of that population.   

"The wellness, the education, the laws, if they're strong then hopefully it will be prevented because everybody will know what the red flags are, what the warning signs are," Kaur said.

Jean Clarke, coordinator of continuing education at MSU, said there is no connection between the extending learning course and the new penalties for elder abuse in Minnesota, but that the topic seemed relevant for the area. 

"We scheduled this course before the new legislation was passed, but it was in response to the number of cases we saw were being brought into the media in Minnesota," Clarke said. "We also felt it as important as we heard from a number of people in the community that there were issues at assisted living and nursing homes in Mankato that did not make the press."

Prevalence

According to the NCEA, there are no national statistics to track and record abuse of elder and vulnerable adults because states lack uniform reporting systems, and some define elder abuse differently.

But, estimates by Elder Assistance Daily report around 11 percent of all Minnesotans age 60 and older are victims of some form of abuse.  It's "absolutely" a problem in Minnesota, Kaur said.

But as the baby boomer generation grows older, Kaur says it's hard to predict if the state will see more cases of elder abuse.

"I think there are many things to look for, like who has the power and control over another person, who is maintaining that control to abuse them, what is the motivation behind it," Kaur said.

As with the case between the elderly woman and her neighbor, Splinter said most abuse against elder and vulnerable adults that she saw in the area was financial exploitation. She also said she came across questionable cases of children taking their parent's social security checks and using the money for their own gain. 

Yet, when financial exploitation and abuse is involved, "most of the times things get resolved without charges being brought." Splinter said. "It has to be really nasty to charge somebody. Usually if they're reported and a vulnerable adult worker or a lawyer gets involved there is a compromise worked out or changes made."

Financial abuse is one of the seven forms of abuse against elder and vulnerable adults according to Kaur. Other forms of abuse include physical, emotional and sexual abuse, neglect, isolation and abandonment. 

Lessons Learned

Nov. 11, 2000, featured a mild November evening, and I was 15 years old as I rode in my sister Quinn's car to a friend's house for a sleepover. Quinn's boyfriend Pat claimed the passenger seat, and I happily spread out in the back. The sun just dipped below the trees and I drank in what was left of the beautiful orange haze it had left behind. We were less than two miles from our destination, entering the first severe turn of the S-curve on Pleasant Valley Road, when I saw it. A car was overturned in the tall brush on the side of the road. The engine was still steaming. I screamed. 

Quinn and Pat saw it too. We quickly turned the car around to help, parking on a portion of a dirt road split by the curve. Pat and I sprang from the car and ran out into weeds, that whipped at our legs and left our jeans wet with dew. Quinn rushed to another car that had arrived on the scene to call 911. 

Nearly dark now, in the distance I could see a figure pacing back and forth in the fog of the new dusk. I called out, asking if anyone needed help. A man's cold reply followed. "No. Everything's fine," he said. 

Then after a long pause he asked, "Do you know how to take a pulse?" 

The man, who I later found out was named Peter, but called Pedro by close friends, was clearly in a panic now. I ran toward him as my brain tried to work through the first aid and CPR training I had received in my high school health class. 

I gasped when I saw his body. Josh lay seemingly lifeless on the ground. He had been thrown from the car when it rolled. His head was tilted back and a stream of blood leaked from his eye. I could tell he had a strong build underneath the heather gray sweatshirt, baggy jeans and work boots he wore. But in this moment he was weak. I put my fingers to his neck and found a faint pulse. My touch had given a shock to Josh's system and he started to breathe when I pulled my hand away. His chest convulsed with each breath as he struggled to survive.

Peter tried to comfort his friend and asked me to do the same. I told Josh he was going to be Okay. More people from other cars who had stopped to help surrounded him, covering him in blankets for warmth and praying for his recovery. I hadn't even noticed the drop in temperature. I was still in shock when the paramedics arrived. I stepped away to give the EMTs space as they worked to save Josh. The gravity of what had happened hit me hard when I saw the wreckage. Beer bottles, broken CDs and shattered window glass covered the ground. I broke down and Pat hugged me.

We set off to find my sister in all the chaos. People were everywhere. A mix of onlookers, police and medical staff scurried around us. Traffic on Pleasant Valley Road had slowed to a crawl as officers tried to direct cars away from the accident scene. The night was pitch black but it looked bright as day around the wreckage. Road flares, bright headlights and flashlights lit up the area. We found Quinn standing near a police officer and a man who was sitting on the ground with his legs straight out in front of him. 

The man had a large, deep gash on his chin. His skin pulled away from the bone and hung down as blood dripped off of it. He was wearing a heavy plaid flannel shirt and jeans, which were soaked in fresh urine, and he exasperatedly said he couldn’t feel his legs. I instantly knew this man had been the driver of the smashed, black Pontiac. I listened as the police officer questioned him and rescue workers attempted to bandage his face. His name was Brian, and he and his two passengers, Peter and Josh, were only 22 and 23 years old. He claimed he had only had about five beers and lost control of the car when he swerved to avoid hitting another driver that had crossed the centerline on the sharp turn. I could tell by the officer’s tone he didn’t believe Brian’s story and neither did I. He had to be drunk. Brian kept asking about his friend Josh. He wanted to know he was okay, that he hadn’t hurt his friend. I couldn’t look at him.

A police officer asked Quinn, Pat and me to stay for questioning since we were the first on the scene. There wasn’t much to tell though, as we hadn’t actually seen the accident occur. By the time we got back into Quinn’s car, Josh had been put in an ambulance and whisked off to the nearest hospital. That night, 22-year-old Joshua R. Burton passed away. Yet, more than one life was forever changed that night. I imagine friends and family of Brian, Josh and Peter as well as random strangers like me who happened to be in the right place at the right time will always remember Nov. 11, 2000. And though we all may remember it a little bit differently, the important thing is that we remember.