Statistics show crimes on the elderly are on the rise

ELIZABETH MORINI, who at 81 still scrubbed her floors with bleach and drove to church in her 1985 Oldsmobile Cutlass Ciera, awoke before dawn, startled by the sound of her bedside-table drawer crashing to the hardwood floor in her Kensington home.

She lay helpless under her pink bedspread as a stranger with a teardrop tattoo under his left eye hovered over her and brushed brass knuckles across her cheeks.

"Where's the f----- money?" he bellowed. "Where's the f----- drugs?"

Her hands shook under the covers as she carefully slipped off her wedding ring to hide it in the sheets.

The white-gold band was safe. She wasn't.

Across the region, an increasing number of elderly people, mostly frail women with brittle bones who weigh 100 pounds wet, are being punched, pushed, hit, raped, robbed or murdered.

Last year in Philadelphia, 15 people age 65 or over were killed, compared with eight in 2006.

A total of 460 were robbed, 362 were victims of aggravated assault and 10 were raped. In 2006, 455 were robbed and 308 were victims of assault. The number of rapes remained the same.

For some elderly crime victims, like Elizabeth Morini, death follows soon.

The intruder beat Morini with a flashlight and robbed her of $60 in her home on Boudinot Street near Somerset in the early morning of April 2. Her son, Tom Morini, and his wife, Bernie Gredyk, found her sprawled in a pool of blood on her vinyl kitchen floor.

"Her face was like a basketball," Gredyk said. "Her hair was matted in blood."

She suffered bleeding on the brain, a fractured jaw, a shattered cheekbone and abrasions. She was released from Temple University Hospital, then suffered a stroke six days later. She recovered, but died May 21 after a fall.

Victor Vargas, 25, faces charges of aggravated assault, robbery, burglary and related offenses. He was not charged with murder because, authorities say, not enough evidence links her death to the attack.

"They say they couldn't prove it - but if it didn't happen, she'd still be alive," her son said. "I know it. She was full of life. She survived cancer, but she didn't survive this."

Morini's fate was similar to that of other elderly Philadelphians:

Laura Chelinski, 82, died nearly two weeks after a man knocked her off her walker and pushed her to the ground to snatch her purse in April 2005. Chelinski was outside her house in Port Richmond, waiting for a ride to a senior center. She was recovering from a broken hip, but it was shattered again in the attack. William Clegg, now 41, of Pottstown, pleaded guilty to robbery, aggravated assault and related offenses. He was sentenced to 10 to 20 years in prison.

In September 2007, also in Port Richmond, Alice Thurnau, 90, was walking near her home when a robber grabbed her purse, knocked her down and kicked her so severely that she suffered a crushed eye socket, cracked ribs, a broken hip and bleeding on the brain. She died a month later. Police continue to hunt for her assailant, who faces a charge of murder.

Last month, two sisters, ages 84 and 92, were outside the ShopRite on Olney Avenue near Front Street when a man police identify as Clifton "Sonny" Wright, 56, helped them load groceries into their 1989 Oldsmobile Cutlass.

It was Wright's MO, police said. Wright has been linked to eight strong-arm robberies. All his victims were women, seven of whom ranged in age from 80 to 92.

In this case, Wright allegedly told them that their tires were going flat and offered to help find a mechanic. When the 84-year-old stepped out of the car to examine it, Wright jumped in and sped off with her terrified sister inside, police said. He demanded cash, and when she said she didn't have any, he slugged her in the face, ripped off her jewelry and grabbed her purse.

Bruised and battered, she tried to open the car door to escape. Wright allegedly slammed his foot on the accelerator, causing her to fall on concrete, with blood seeping from her head. She survived.

Even when victims survive, some remain so traumatized that they become shut-ins.

A Southwest Philadelphia woman, who spent all of her 90 years in the same house, was terrified to return home after a woman barged in June 9, punched her in the face, threw her onto a couch, broke two of her ribs and robbed her.

She eventually returned, but when a Daily News reporter called, she said she couldn't talk to anyone.

On one sunny afternoon, her rowhouse was dark. The blinds were drawn and a thick, crocheted square covered the glass diamond in the front door to block visitors' view.

"I talk to no one. I don't let anyone in," she said through the closed door.

In East Falls, John Gabel, 83, a World War II veteran, recalled being attacked by three thugs inside a men's room at the Gallery on a September afternoon.

When he shuffled in, he had no way of knowing they were staking out the bathroom, in wait of the perfect victim.

"I was walking away from the urinal and I got hit on the head," he said. "They didn't say a word. They just hit me."

Gabel said he was too tired to say more. "I'm 83," he said. "I've got to lay down."

Two of the three men have been charged in the attack.

"The senior citizens are more frail physically and emotionally," said Jerry Bolzak, director of Northeast Victim Service. "Some become terrified to leave their home. They feel like prisoners."

One woman in her 70s who was robbed in her home "stays in the dark in a rocking chair," said Bolzak, whose nonprofit neighborhood organization helps crime victims pay for counseling, physical therapy and medical bills, mostly with federal funds derived from fines levied against criminals.

One of the most frightening moments for victims is having to go to court to face their assailants.

Stan Dubin, 77, a lawyer with the Center City firm Anapol Schwartz, is one of about 15 lawyers who volunteer to sit with and support victims in the courtroom through the Elder Justice Project, which was pioneered by District Attorney Lynne Abraham. Most of the lawyers are in their 60s or older.

"What you see is so devastating to the victim that you feel compelled to provide whatever you can to relieve the torment," he said. "You could cry over some of this stuff."

Their testimony is crucial because they are often the only witness. So Dubin sits next to the quivering victims on the witness stand, with his arm around their shoulders. "They have tremendous courage," he said.

Some older women are pummeled by their own children.

Dubin was in court for one South Philadelphia woman in her late 80s who had to testify against her daughter who had punched her in the face and body, breaking her nose and eye socket.

"You could see her pain not just physically, but emotionally," Dubin said. "She was devastated. She knew her testimony could send her daughter to jail."

For some elders attacked by strangers, it is the first time they have been crime victims.

The block where Elizabeth Morini lived on Boudinet Street has changed over the years. As more guns and drugs infected the streets, Morini placed shelf liners in her drawers and hung sheer curtains behind blue sati8n drapes. Her son, Tom, tried to convince her to move. She refused. "This is my home," she said.

Everyone looked out for "Miss Elizabeth." "Even the drug dealers," Tom Morini said. "They would even offer to help her in with groceries."

Last December, after she decorated her house for Christmas, she told her son it would be the last holiday in the house. "She knew somehow," her son said.

But by all accounts, she put up the fight of her life. When the stranger demanded more money than the $60 in her purse, she told him that all she had was in a change jar in the kitchen.

He ordered her downstairs. He went first. She grabbed a broken piece of footboard she used to prop a window open, held it behind her and crept down the steps.

She quietly walked up behind him and hit him over the head with the piece of wood. But she couldn't get a good grip.

He grabbed a flashlight from the counter, bashed her in the head and knocked her to the floor.

He left and she crawled over to a phone. At 6:11 that morning, she called her son and his wife. "I've been beaten, robbed. I'm on the floor," she said.

They rushed over and found Morini, disheveled and bloodied, sprawled on the floor in her nightgown.

"To the day she died, she never really healed," Tom Morini said.

The once cheerful and feisty Morini became somber and quiet. With no appetite, she ate little more than New England clam chowder and crackers.

She moved from her home to live with Morini and his wife. One day in May, she wanted some time alone, so they left for a short time to visit friends.

A half-hour later, she called. She had fallen and hit her head.

They rushed her to Northeastern Hospital, on Allegheny Avenue in Port Richmond, where doctors told them her bowel had burst. They also found gangrene in her chest and two cracked ribs. She needed risky surgery to have a chance.

She died the next day.

"She was so full of life before the attack," Gredyk said. "It sucked the life out of her."

Alone, they will soon have to face her alleged attacker in court.

They will bring Morini's courage with them - symbolically worn in a ring. Gredyk plans to put the diamond from the ring set Morini hid in her bed during the attack and add it to her own wedding band.

"It's a part of her," Gredyk said. "I will remember her strength and carry it with me."