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Couple speaks up after their son dies in the state’s care

August 9th, 2010

By Maura Possley, Southtown Star

Brian’s parents were still in shock when they arrived at a Waukegan hospital on a fall night in 2002.They hadn’t spoken much during the hour-and-a-half ride from their Oak Forest townhome.

They could think only of the news they had so far: Their 25-year-old son had arrived at the hospital with no pulse. Doctors couldn’t revive him.

Jim and Linda Kent saw the white sheet pulled up to Brian’s chin, covering the rest of his 100-pound frame.

He was gone, and something went terribly wrong.

The deputy coroner agreed. He looked Jim Kent in the eye that night.

“He says, ‘He’s 25 years old, young – I’d sure like to know how he died,’ ” Kent recalled. “I said, ‘We do, too.’ “

Eight years later, the Kents still aren’t sure what happened to Brian.

They do know he never got the services he should have, as someone with profound disabilities in the state’s care.

Though Brian’s life had ended, his story would continue with his parents discovering a new way for their son to live on.

Through this one couple’s determination to speak out, Brian’s life became the inspiration of a new state law that will examine these deaths in a new light, in a bid to prevent another of these vulnerable residents from dying prematurely. The law takes effect Jan. 1.

“He was kicked in the abdomen. Nobody was held accountable, and that’s just what floors me,” Jim Kent said, reflecting on the nightmare his family was only beginning to face on that October night.

“His heart was excellent,” his mother said. “He would have lived forever.”

The baby brother

Brian Kent was born March 8, 1977, in Rock Island, a third child for the Kents. Sister Laura was the eldest, followed by brother Randy.

He had inherited his dad’s traits – at least in his shock of red hair.

Quickly, the family knew there was something different about Brian.

And by age 10, Brian’s autism and other disabilities needed more care than they could provide.

He had compulsive tende ncies, whether it was arranging furniture in a certain way or knocking on windows or flipping through magazines. Knocking on a window one day, it broke on Brian and his mother found him standing in a bed room holding a piece of glass.

Brian was nonverbal and had vis ion problems, but he communicated with others physically – by gently taking their hand to a faucet if he wanted water, for instance.

He spent his youth in two facilities downstate before he was transferred in 2002 to the Kiley Developmental Center in Waukegan. Run by the state, it seemed the appropriate next step needed to monitor his medications and handle his care into adulthood, his parents said.

Read the rest of the article.