Family Feud Puts Focus on State Conservator System

When a San Bernardino County judge placed Raymond Horspool under the control of a conservator in July, the 86-year-old chemist and former Navy captain was not even present in the courtroom.

It’s a common occurrence in probate courts in California, where conservators and their attorneys often obtain emergency appointments the day they ask for them by claiming that elderly adults cannot care for themselves and are in imminent danger because of abuse or neglect.

But this was no ordinary case.

The attorneys who cited Horspool’s failing health and short-term memory problems -- who are among the county’s busiest conservatorship lawyers -- were using the system’s dramatic powers against the wishes of their own father and three of their siblings.

As the Horspool family drama plays out, a four-bill package of legislation offering new protections for incapacitated adults in similar situations awaits the signature of Gov. Arnold Schwarzenegger.

The legal battle over Horspool began when two of his nine children, attorneys David and Karin Horspool, filed court papers asking that their eldest sister, Margaret Updike, be named immediately as their father’s temporary conservator.

At a July 31 hearing, Updike told Judge Frank Gafkowski that dementia, short-term memory problems and numbness in his right leg had left her father unable to care for himself.

Updike also said her father’s pensions and savings were at risk because he had mailed checks in response to deceptive mailings informing him that he had won a prize that required a payment in advance.

Such hasty proceedings are meant for emergency situations. They enable judges to appoint interim conservators before safeguards required in nonemergency cases kick in. But they have become the norm.

And so it was with Horspool: Gafkowski appointed Updike as his temporary conservator on the spot, without a court investigator having interviewed him or his other children to determine whether he needed or wanted a conservator.

Had the judge waited for such an interview, his court investigator would have heard a different side of the family saga.

“Nobody has heard a word from me. It’s all one-sided,” Horspool complained while sitting near the stone fireplace of his wife’s comfortable one-story Grand Terrace home.

Horspool and his wife, Winifred -- the two, both widowed, married five years ago -- said they have been getting all the help they need from Horspool’s son William, 44, a former state prison guard who retired on medical disability.

William Horspool disputes that his father was being swindled by mailings. He and one of his sisters, Barbara Horspool Howard, say their lawyer siblings are gaming a system they know well to gain the upper hand in a family dispute.

“It’s over nothing, and they’re using their power as attorneys to do this,” said Howard, 47, a travel agent from Brentwood. “It’s very disturbing that the court just lets this happen.”

David Horspool, who has been handling probate matters more than 20 years, said he took the case to court because his brother William Horspool was no longer taking proper care of their father -- missing medical appointments and doses of medication -- and because he was concerned about how he was handling their father’s finances.

He said he didn’t tell the court in the emergency petition that his brother was attempting to be his father’s informal caretaker because “the allegations were enough to get the temporary [conservatorship] established.... What do you want -- a 30-page pleading?”

He said he did not tell his rival siblings about the emergency hearing because the law didn’t require him to do so. The disagreement among the siblings and his father’s poor memory were enough of an emergency under the law.

“I believed it was important to put somebody in place and bring order to the situation, order to the process. In a difficult situation, the court brings order to the process,” he said. He said he told his father about the hearing beforehand but said he probably forgot five minutes later.

“That’s the crux of the matter. His short-term memory is gone,” David Horspool said. “My father has no idea of what his financial situation is. He doesn’t believe he has medical problems.”

New Requirements

The reform legislation awaiting action by Schwarzenegger, passed two weeks ago by the Legislature, would require court investigators to visit adults before -- or within two days of -- emergency appointments. Investigators also would have to interview the senior’s relatives, neighbors and close friends before recommending that the court appoint a conservator.

Schwarzenegger has given no indication whether he plans to sign or veto the measures. But he has expressed support for reforming the conservatorship system and said that elderly and dependent adults have been subjected to abuse.

Once appointed, conservators exercise enormous power over their clients, controlling their finances and, often, their medical care. In Horspool’s case, he lost the ability to write checks from his own bank account and to decide which of his relatives may accompany him to the doctor.

Most conservators are relatives or friends of adults incapable of caring for themselves. But for-profit conservatorships have become a growing business in California, where about 500 professional conservators look after 4,000 clients and control $1.5 billion in assets.

The recently passed reform legislation was prompted by a Times series published in November that described abuse and neglect by professional conservators.

Based on a review of more than 2,400 cases, The Times found that more than 500 seniors and dependent adults were entrusted to for-profit conservators without their approval at hearings that lasted minutes.

In nine of 10 emergency cases The Times reviewed, wards were not interviewed by court investigators before judges decided they needed conservators.

Among the cases The Times highlighted was that of Helen Jones, a frugal World War II assembly-line worker who had amassed a nest egg of $560,000 by the time a professional conservator took over her affairs in 2002.

Jones spent two years battling to escape the conservatorship, saying she neither needed nor wanted the expensive care that came with it. Representing the conservator, who resisted Jones’ efforts, were attorneys Karin and David Horspool.

‘My Main Line’

The long-simmering Horspool family feud erupted this summer over how best to care for the head of the clan, Raymond.

Five of his nine children, including lawyers David and Karin, think their father ought to pay for an aide to help him and his wife with meals and hygiene and want to protect his finances, which might be crucial if he ever needs to enter a nursing home, according to interviews and court documents.

William and two sisters think he should never be admitted to a nursing home and ought to be cared for at home by his numerous local relatives. One sibling is reportedly on the fence.

Raymond Horspool, dressed in a Polo shirt and slacks, his thick white hair parted to the side, said he relies primarily on his son, William. “Billy has been my main line of support,” he said.

What his children are really fighting over, he said, is the four-bedroom home on nearly half an acre in Riverside where he raised his family.

“I gave it to one of my sons. That’s what it’s about in my book,” he said. His memory of the transaction seemed to fade at times during a lengthy interview.

William Horspool said he bought the house from his father three years ago for about $200,000, some of which he still owes his dad.

He suspects that his rival siblings are upset over his ownership of the home, and for accepting a $4,000 check from his father two years ago for a trip to Disney World.

They have accused him in public court documents of interfering with Updike, his eldest sister, as she managed their father’s healthcare as his conservator. They also say he has sabotaged family dinners and upset their father by reminding him that Updike has taken control of his life.

In turn, he and one of his sisters accuse their lawyer siblings of taking advantage of the weak legal protections for seniors and their families.

“It’s over nothing, and they’re using their power as attorneys to do this,” said Barbara Horspool Howard. “It’s very disturbing that the court just lets this happen.”

Updike and her lawyer siblings have asked for some unusual protections. Without telling William, they convinced Judge Gafkowski to sign a temporary restraining order forbidding him from reminding his father that he was under conservatorship and from being involved in his father’s medical care.

“I’m still dumbfounded at how a judge can sit there without my being there and take away my freedom of speech,” William said.

His lawyer brother said he’s happy to end the conservatorship, if the relatives can iron out their differences and agree to get their father professional help.

In the meantime, another of his children, Diane Fewkes, has filed court papers opposing the conservatorship, saying the family is large enough to be able to provide informal help to their father. If the court finds a conservator is necessary, she said, it ought to be her.

“The actions of the temporary conservator show that she is not interested in family unity or determining what is best for my father, but rather appears to be more interested in alienating my father from certain, select siblings,” Fewkes said of her sister in court documents.

While the children fight, Raymond Horspool is stuck in a legal limbo that is likely to go on for months before Gafkowski determines whether a conservator ought to be named permanently and who should fill the role.

The family patriarch, a veteran of the Korean War and World War II, has vowed to fight all the way. “Nobody’s going to take control of my life,” he said.

evelyn.larrubia@latimes.com

jack.leonard@latimes.com