The couple took aim at The Mt Cargill Trust, in whose care 18-year-old Rose* had lived for several years but who refused to accommodate her on bail, meaning she spent two weeks in custody.
The couple say the organisation kept them in the dark about the situation, and if they had known what was going on they would have had their niece on bail at their home.
‘‘The communication was crap,’’ Jennifer*, the woman’s aunt, said.
Rose’s behaviour continues to escalate and they said she had not been the same since her stint at Christchurch Women’s Prison.
‘‘[When I picked her up] it didn’t even look like her. I thought, ‘Christ, what have they done?,’ ’’ Jennifer said.
The couple are concerned their niece will be left with nowhere else to go if issues in the system remain the same — especially with the recent shutdown of Wakari Hospital’s Ward 10a.
A spokesperson for The Mt Cargill Trust could not comment on individual cases due to privacy concerns, but highlighted a ‘‘gap’’ in the current system for people with intellectual disabilities, who pose a risk of harm.
Rose has a chromosome 22 deficiency, resulting in various lifelong physical and developmental challenges, as well as autism.
‘‘She’s probably got the mindset of about a five or six-year-old. So, she’s way behind in some things,’’ her uncle Bruce* explained.
Bruce and Jennifer became Rose’s guardians when she was preschool aged, and when she was about 11 she began living with The Mt Cargill Trust.
The charity offers varying levels of care to people with intellectual disabilities and/or autism, including residential support.
Bruce became Rose’s welfare guardian when she turned 18.
But since January, Rose began having issues with escalating moods and physical outbursts.
After an alleged assault, police were called and charges laid, beginning a lengthy and stressful court process.
She was bailed to The Mt Cargill Trust, but after more issues resulted in further court appearances, they refused to take her back.
It seemed Rose had nowhere to go and she was remanded in custody at an appearance in April.
‘‘They reckoned she was too dangerous for staff,’’ Bruce said.
‘‘They should have rung us. And bailed her to us. We’re right here,’’ Jennifer said.
Due to Rose’s intellectual disability, she could not alert anyone to her guardians’ potential to provide a bail address.
‘‘She wouldn’t be able to think of that: she doesn’t have that kind of capacity to think like that,’’ Bruce said.
A lawyer organised an ‘‘urgent’’ bail hearing for Rose to be released to their home.
But the wheels of justice turned slowly: in the two weeks before the court could hear the application, Rose was spiralling in a cell in Christchurch.
When Rose’s guardians contacted the prison, they said even the staff were shocked by her remand status saying ‘‘she shouldn’t even be here’’ and it was ‘‘wrong’’.
Contact with her aunt and uncle was usually brief; she would only call a couple times a day and chat for about 30 seconds.
She told them she spent her time sleeping, watching television and would sometimes sit outside or be taken for a walk in the courtyard.
Once Rose was granted release to her guardians’ home, Jennifer flew to Christchurch to get her.
She did not look the same and could not even smile, Jennifer said.
‘‘[It was] stress. She [was] just stressed.’’
When they arrived at Dunedin Airport, Bruce was waiting, holding a sign with her name on it.
‘‘She came running straight up to me and said ‘I’m home. I’m home!’,’’ Bruce recalled.
Rose described to her guardians eating ‘‘meat patty and jail cake’’ while in prison.
‘‘She said, ‘I cried a lot up there, auntie’,’’ Jennifer said.
Rose quickly became worried about where she would be living.
‘‘It was a stressful experience for her . . . to come out of prison, and find out that her home — or what she thought was home — The Mt Cargill Trust, is just gone [no longer available to her],’’ Bruce said.
‘‘The Mt Cargill Trust would like to highlight the current system gap for people who have a diagnosed intellectual disability and who can present with behaviours that place themselves, staff and the public at serious risk of harm,’’ the spokesperson said.
‘‘This may exceed the safety capacity of community-based support on occasions and prison being the only option available, which can be highly inappropriate.’’
There were broader issues within the sector and a shortage of relevant specialist services, the spokesperson said.
Rose’s aunt and uncle did not know what triggered her initial lash-outs, but were sure her issues had worsened since the stint in custody.
She now struggles to eat and her moods escalate quickly and erratically, which has resulted in further police charges.
They had fears about what would happen to Rose if the cycle continued.
‘‘There’s nowhere for her to go. What’s she going to end up doing? She’s going to end up being in a fulltime lock-up . . . if this keeps going,’’ Bruce said.
Jennifer was concerned Corrections and police were not trained to manage people like Rose.
‘‘There’s no facilities for people with intellectual disabilities,’’ Bruce said.
Now, Rose was at a secure unit at Community Care Trust and her mental capacity was being assessed through the court process.
*Names changed to protect anonymity.
