One mom's struggle to keep her son alive in the state's care highlights the challenges of supporting the developmentally disabled

In late April of last year, BJ took him out of a group home because she feared for his safety, and since that time, Arizona's Division of Developmental Disabilities has failed to find Drew a new permanent home, though, as of press time, there were 57 licensed group homes in Maricopa County that did not house any clients.

According to federal and state law, Drew has the right to have "care for personal needs provided . . . by a direct-care staff person." He also has the right to a safe and clean physical environment, free access to his property, the right to associate with whomever he chooses, and to go to the church he chooses. He is guaranteed the "least-restrictive" living environment possible.

Drew's combination of behavioral, medical, and developmental disabilities makes him hard to place, but there's no caveat in the law that says, "Unless client is difficult." Drew is easily irritated by noise, and if he's not kept busy, he gets bored and can get into trouble. When backed into a corner or physically confronted, Drew will fight, though his remorse afterward is well documented.

Perhaps because he's difficult and because his seizures are life threatening, DDD consistently pressures Bolender to take Drew into her home. As a single mother who rents her home, lives with a roommate to make ends meet, and works a full-time job, she simply cannot do that. She says that even when Drew's dad was around (he died in 2003), Drew's care was nearly impossible.

"It took two college-educated adults to take care of him," she says. "And even then, there was never enough time."

Bolender isn't asking DDD for a miracle. She's just asking the agency to place her son somewhere he will be safe. Somewhere the staff will care that his favorite superhero is Spider-Man.

Bolender doesn't understand why DDD has not found a place for her son. It's been almost a year since he left his last permanent group home. Drew has federal money he can use and he is also eligible for state assistance. She says she isn't asking for anything more than for the state to do its job: provide a safe, appropriate residential setting for her son, where he can live an independent life.

She doesn't plan to give up.

"We've worked too hard to keep this kid alive," she says. "We're not going to let the state of Arizona kill him."

In matters of social welfare, attention typically turns to the very young or the very old. The 11,400 adults served by Arizona's Division of Developmental Disabilities are often forgotten in the middle. New Times' examination of DDD reveals an agency rife with administrative, training, and budget problems.

Consider:

• Group homes for developmentally disabled adults are licensed through the state, but the entities that run the group homes are, by and large, left to their own devices. (That would intensify if the measure now before the House becomes law.)

• Arizona has an extremely high turnover of group home staff, and low wages lead to a challenge in drawing and retaining competent staffs.

• The state of Arizona has minimal requirements for group home employees. Employees do not need experience working with a medically fragile, challenging population.

• There are no official "quality of life" or supervision definitions. Therefore, clients often are not given the care specified in their state service plans.

• The turnover for support coordinators at the Division of Developmental Disabilities is 27 percent. The client-to-coordinator ratio is 40 to 1.

When faced with these kinds of problems, it's no wonder family members like Cameron Bolender, Drew's brother, worry.

"I'm not expecting DDD to be miracle workers," he says. "But they just dump him off at these places, and I have no faith that they're screening these people and determining if these are people qualified to provide this care."

Drew Bolender and Lacey Frye, his caregiver for about three weeks last July, never got along. Frye was a single mother with a 3-year-old and another client already in her home. Frye ran the Peoria home herself, though her fiancé often stopped by to help her out. Drew and her son fought constantly, and Frye was overwhelmed by Drew's tantrums and aggressive tendencies.