Harlan's Story (His Voice)

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I was born in 1964. When I was born, I didn’t get enough oxygen to my brain. That made me have cerebral palsy and a brain injury. The doctors told my Mom and Dad to put me in an institution, but they said no. They loved me too much. They kept me safe at home. 

I had to wear braces to help me walk. My Dad worked at the TTC, driving buses and subways.  He helped me every day. Mom didn't work. She stay homed to take care of me.  When my baby sister, Lori Ann was born. I learned to talk because I wanted to say her name and I learned to walk because I wanted to kiss her on the cheek. I still kiss her on the cheek today. She tried so hard to help me learn my ABCs and to write my name. I can draw lots of circles and love using the yellow colouring pencil. Everything I buy or someone buys for me is $14. 

I always needed help from people, but nothing is the same as family love. That’s why families trust group homes when parents get old because they believe it’s safe. My family trusted the government’s promise of community living so much so they endorse it publicly with their education campaign of inclusion with institutions closing. These horrible places Mom and Dad vowed never to have me live. 

When I was 17, my Dad and I were in a TV commercial called “My Turn.” It showed people like me living in the community.  Everyone clapped and smiled. I waited 25 years for a group home. Mom and Dad trusted them. They would never me in a place that hurt me.

In 2015, I finally got in. We thought it would be safe. But it was not.  They locked me in my room. They told my Dad and my sister not to come. They told me: “Your sister doesn’t want you. She is dead.” But that was a lie. My Dad was concerned and went to the group home’s head office “they ignored him so he stopped going.” He gave up because he was tired but sister kept fighting for me in care and support. Dad asked my sister to be my legal guardian. They still ignored her.  I had to be brave because the group home was hurting me a lot. I wanted to see my family. I wanted to go to school. I wanted to see my friends. The group home abused me. They started speaking for me when I did not ask them. They said I did not want to see my Dad or sister. 

I talk as much as Lori Ann but have a hard time with details. I could not say: “That’s not true. I love my sister. I love my Dad.” So I cried. I crawled on the floor  - no one helped me. I banged at the front door. I saw my sister through the window, knocking and crying, “I am his sister. I am his guardian. Let me in!” But they never opened the door.  She came 350 times. I was scared. 

They hurt me. They pinched me, kicked me and knocked me down. They touched me where nobody should. They changed my medicine five times in three years. Within two months at the group home they put me on citalopram to calm me because I was sad without asking my dad. It was an anti depression.  They wouldn't let me see my Dad so I was sad. That is normal but my feelings didn't matter. Family didn't matter.  We did not go out. We ate horrible food. They didn't give us enough food. I lost 40 pounds. Dad was worried but they ignored him.  Sister asked for a meal plan but they wouldn't give it to her.    In May 2023, the group home changed my seizure medicine before camp and it made me sad and angry. The counsellors who knew me for 30 years said, “Something is wrong.” 

They stopped me from going to my day program of 40 years -  swimming at the YMCA, library even the doctor. They stopped me from seeing my dentist and the colon doctor. My mom died of colon cancer and my sister wanted me checked too, but the group home said, "No." My bladder got so sick it swelled to the size of a watermelon. I was in such pain but couldn't express it.  The Government met with me in Fall 2024 to ask me questions on my needs and supports at home and in the community.  No talked about the neglect at the group home. Last time this was done, Dad was not there and it was 11 years ago. People with developmental disabilities. I was told it would help determine the care I needed.   I don't understand why it took so long to talk to me. Sister said we waited, 19 months. 

They stole from me. They gave me $20 a month. They did my income taxes and kept the money! My sister says they stole $50,000 of my money. The Government gave the group home $600,000  in 30 months to my care and support while I lived at my sister’s. They rented out my room to someone else while I was still paying rent. They refused to let me in to get my things. My cologne, my shaver, my Big Bird stuffy — gone. My sister tells me I should be able to get help sooner but they never do. They don’t care about me. Sister says they are making fun of our values of everyone belonging and wasting our money.  Sister has been waiting months for help.  They ignore her as they ignored me.

When my Dad was sick. The group home  didn’t let me see him. They didn’t want me to go to his funeral. My sister worked hard to make sure I saw Daddy in the coffin before he went into the ground. My sister came to the group home 350 times in three years and the group home never let her in. I can count to 21 so she kept track of the number of visits they refused to the family. I crawled to the door crying but they wouldn’t open it. Dad came too and he would wait outside on the sidewalk in his wheelchair from Bridgepoint. A few times, we were left waiting outside and the staff made Dad, sister and I wait for a long time. When I went inside the staff laughed at us. 

I was visiting my sister as she was telling them that they will get into trouble for the abuse. They changed my seizure medication and no one fixed it so it would not happen again. The group home still gets paid to take care of me. I have been waiting 30 month now - I dependent on them for care and they hurt me.  Now, I live with my sister. I go to school six days a week, swimming, library and church. I come home and say: “I am home!” My sister smiles because she knows I am happy. Every night I kiss Mom and Dad’s pictures and say: “Love you whole peck.”   My nephew Noah tells me: “Uncle Harlan, you will work at the TTC like Grandpa.” I laugh proudly, because I love him, and I love my family.  

I am brave, cheerful and courageous. My sister says I am a great friend, a wonderful brother, an amazing uncle, and a fantastic son. Mom and Dad are in heaven. Sister tells me, "they would be so proud of me."

But the group home lied. They hurt me. They stole from me. They told me my sister was dead. They locked me in my room.  There were days when I did not have showers and play in my rented room locked up. I waited for them to open the door.  At school, if the kids were bad, they had to go to the office.  This group home needs to go to the office.    Sister says, "Government refuses to help when their programs are not keeping me safe.  They continue to pay the group home $600,000 over 30 months for non service in my care but refuse to help me, living my best life with family and friends."