Part 1: 'Shame of the State'
Troubled facilities and lax state oversight have for years put residents of Pennsylvania's assisted-living homes at risk of assault, neglect - and tragedy.
Scenery Heights, the home in Elizabeth where authorities say Loth was raped, was neither a luxury facility nor a low-end one. The family was paying about $2,000 a month for Loth to live there, said her daughter, Colleen Buglar.
Loth, who once relished trips to Disney World with her grandchildren, by then was suffering from dementia. Her 5-foot-1 frame had shrunk to 65 pounds, according to court testimony.
Buglar said she believed the home was providing wonderful care, right up until the day in August 2004 when a part-time, live-in staff person allegedly was caught raping her mother. The man, Dwight Hill, 44, is in jail awaiting trial on homicide and sexual-assault charges.
Regulators cited the facility for failing to obtain a criminal background check on Hill, and for failing to prevent the assault. One inspector noted that the home's "licensing history includes multiple citations for not obtaining criminal background checks and in 2003 for having staff smelling of alcohol." The home was allowed to remain open.
Representatives of the owners, Chester Niedzwiecki Enterprises, did not respond to repeated calls and a letter seeking comment.
In addition to stepping up enforcement, Pennsylvania last year implemented tougher regulations that nearly everyone agrees will better protect assisted-living residents.
But The Inquirer's investigation found that the new rules were weakened significantly after pressure from owners of personal-care homes and their allies in Harrisburg.
When the industry was unsatisfied with the welfare department's first proposal, industry lobbyist Gwen Bower said, "we went to our friends in the legislature" to change it.
That pressure continues: Kroh said the welfare department routinely fielded calls from lawmakers complaining about enforcement actions against homes in their districts.
And Richman said two state senators recently had asked her to meet with home operators concerned about the new regulations. She declined to name the senators.
In that political climate, the welfare department has been unable to do what experts say is most needed: substantially boost the small cadre of regulators who inspect facilities, investigate complaints and enforce the law.
"I couldn't do it all in one fell swoop," Richman said.
The state's 31 field inspectors must cover 51 homes each, on average. By contrast, the state Department of Health, which inspects nursing homes, has four times the inspectors and about half the homes.
New Jersey has six inspectors for 204 assisted-living facilities, or 34 per inspector. (Unlike Pennsylvania, New Jersey regulates assisted-living facilities separately from other types of boarding homes.)
Even leaders in the personal-care-home industry say Pennsylvania's enforcement efforts have been lacking.
"I think there are some significant problems within this industry, and . . . for whatever reason, things have not always been enforced consistently in the past," said Bower, a lobbyist for the Pennsylvania Healthcare Association, which represents larger facilities. She said enforcement had markedly improved.
"I wish they could add more inspectors, because it would also help to ensure that the level of service is where we want it to be," said Leader, the assisted-living executive.
Kroh agreed. Since she took over, she said, the licensing division spends more than 50 percent of its time on enforcement actions, up from 10 percent. As a result, it has fallen far behind in inspections, which are required each year for license renewals. Also, regulators don't have time to analyze the incident reports that homes must file.
"We can't get out to homes frequently enough," Kroh said. "If problems could be identified early, it could prevent some of the very tragic deaths and injuries and accidents. And that's my problem: I don't have enough staff to do both."




