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Sunday Sep 29, 2024
Sunday Sep 29, 2024
View the original Texas Watchdog article Promised a Lifeline, Given a Nightmare: How Texas’s HCS Program Fails Families with Disabilities here.Â
The Texas Home and Community-Based Services (HCS) program has long been hailed as a lifeline for families dealing with intellectual and developmental disabilities (IDD). It’s supposed to offer care, services, and support that keep people with IDD out of institutions and allow them to live in their communities. In theory, it’s a beautiful concept. In practice, however, Texas’s HCS system has devolved into a sprawling, bureaucratic mess that leaves tens of thousands of people waiting — sometimes for over a decade — for services they desperately need. What was supposed to be a humane and responsive system has instead become a Kafkaesque nightmare, with families trapped on endless waitlists, drowning in paperwork, and watching as their loved ones languish without the help they need.
How Texas Became Ground Zero for a Healthcare Crisis
Texas is no stranger to healthcare crises. The state has consistently ranked near the bottom when it comes to access to healthcare, particularly for low-income individuals. It’s also one of only 12 states that have refused to expand Medicaid under the Affordable Care Act (ACA), a decision that has left hundreds of thousands of Texans without coverage. And then there’s the HCS waitlist — a symptom of a much larger, much deeper problem. As of 2024, more than 108,000 Texans were stuck on the HCS waitlist, with some families waiting 15 years or longer for services. Yes, you read that right: 15 years. That’s enough time for a child to go from kindergarten to high school graduation without ever receiving the help they need.
The Texas Tribune reported that many of these individuals have been trapped on the waitlist for so long that their needs have changed dramatically by the time their name is finally called. Some die before they ever receive services. Others are forced into institutional settings, exactly the kind of outcome the HCS program was designed to avoid. And yet, despite the growing demand for services, Texas’s Medicaid system remains woefully underfunded, understaffed, and overwhelmed.
The Perfect Storm: How Medicaid “Unwinding” Made Everything Worse
As if the HCS waitlist wasn’t already bad enough, the state’s bungled Medicaid “unwinding” process has made things even worse. After the federal government ended continuous Medicaid coverage in March 2023 — coverage that had been in place since the start of the COVID-19 pandemic — Texas rushed to redetermine eligibility for more than 5.9 million people. The result? Chaos. More than 2 million Texans lost their Medicaid coverage, many of them because of procedural denials rather than actual ineligibility. Translation: people were kicked off Medicaid because of paperwork errors, lost forms, or bureaucratic incompetence, not because they no longer met the eligibility requirements.
For individuals with disabilities who were relying on Medicaid to access HCS services, the unwinding process has been particularly brutal. Many have lost their coverage entirely, while others have seen their services disrupted by administrative delays. According to reports, Texas’s procedural denial rate is 35%, far higher than the national average of 22%. In other words, one-third of the people who lose Medicaid coverage in Texas are losing it because of paperwork issues. It’s a level of dysfunction that would be laughable if it weren’t so tragic.
A System Designed to Fail: The Bureaucratic Maze of HCS Enrollment
If you’ve ever tried to apply for Medicaid in Texas, you know it’s not exactly a user-friendly process. The system is complex, confusing, and riddled with bureaucratic hurdles that make it nearly impossible for families to navigate. The Texas Health and Human Services Commission (HHSC), which oversees the HCS program, relies heavily on manual processes for both application and renewal forms. Even when forms are submitted online, they often have to be re-entered manually by eligibility workers, adding unnecessary delays and increasing the likelihood of errors. As of early 2024, families were waiting an average of 88 days just for someone to start processing their Medicaid applications.
And then there are the procedural denials — those dreaded moments when you find out your application has been denied not because you’re ineligible, but because some bureaucrat lost your paperwork, or you missed a deadline you didn’t even know existed. Texas has become infamous for this. The state’s heavy reliance on paper-based processes, combined with its refusal to adopt modern data-driven approaches, means that only 6% of Medicaid renewals are processed through automated systems. In other states, that figure is much higher, which means fewer errors, fewer delays, and fewer people falling through the cracks. But in Texas, the cracks are more like gaping chasms, and they’re swallowing up the people who need help the most.
The Crisis Diversion Slots: A Band-Aid on a Bullet Wound
In an attempt to stem the tide of institutionalization, Texas has created Crisis Diversion slots within the HCS program. These slots are reserved for individuals who are at imminent risk of being institutionalized and allow them to jump ahead of the 108,000 others stuck on the waitlist. Sounds good in theory, right? The problem is, these slots are few and far between, and they’re subject to the whims of state budget allocations. Even in emergency situations, there’s no guarantee that a Crisis Diversion slot will be available. Families who are desperately trying to keep their loved ones out of institutions are often left waiting, even when they meet the qualifications for immediate help.
The process for securing a Crisis Diversion slot is, unsurprisingly, another bureaucratic maze. Families have to submit a Request for Home and Community-based Services Crisis Diversion Slot to HHSC, along with a mountain of supporting documentation, including the individual’s Determination of Intellectual Disability (DID) and Inventory for Client and Agency Planning (ICAP) booklet. HHSC staff then review the request and decide whether the individual qualifies for a slot. If they do, and if a slot is available, enrollment in the HCS program is authorized. But again, this is all contingent on there being enough slots to go around, which there rarely are.
The Impact on Disability Services: The Domino Effect of Medicaid Cuts
The Medicaid unwinding process hasn’t just affected the people who lost coverage — it’s also had a devastating impact on disability services across the state. Safety net clinics, which often serve as the primary care providers for individuals with disabilities, have reported a 30% decrease in Medicaid revenue since the unwinding began. This financial hit has forced some clinics to lay off staff, furlough employees, and cut back on essential services like behavioral health and dental care. For people with disabilities, many of whom rely on these clinics for their care, the loss of services has been catastrophic.
And then there’s the Texas foster care system, which is already under federal court supervision because of its many failures. The Medicaid unwinding process has only made things worse, especially for children with disabilities who are already struggling to get the care they need. Foster children with special needs are now facing additional barriers to accessing services, thanks to the state’s bungled Medicaid renewal process. In some cases, these children are losing coverage altogether, leaving them without the critical services they depend on.
The Staff Shortages: A Workforce in Crisis
It’s not just the people who need services who are suffering — the people who provide those services are in crisis too. The workforce that supports Texas’s disability services has been gutted by budget cuts, layoffs, and an inability to recruit and retain staff. The Direct Service Workforce Development Taskforce, which was supposed to address these issues, has made little headway in solving the problem. Community attendants and personal care assistants — the people who provide hands-on care to individuals with disabilities — are leaving the field in droves because they’re overworked, underpaid, and undervalued.
The result is a system that is teetering on the brink of collapse. Clinics and care facilities are struggling to keep up with demand, and the quality of care is deteriorating as staff are forced to take on more patients than they can handle. The people who rely on these services — people with disabilities, foster children, low-income families — are bearing the brunt of these failures, and there’s no end in sight.
Federal Funding: A Lifeline, or a Missed Opportunity?
The federal government has tried to throw Texas a lifeline, but the state has been slow to grab it. In 2024, Texas received over $92 million in federal funds to help manage the Medicaid unwinding process, but that money has done little to stem the tide of coverage losses and service disruptions. Federal initiatives like ex parte processing, which allows states to determine Medicaid eligibility using publicly available data, have been embraced by other states, but Texas has lagged behind. Only 6% of Medicaid renewals in Texas are processed through automated systems, compared to much higher rates in other states.
The federal government has also encouraged states to expand their Home and Community-Based Services (HCBS) programs, offering temporary increases in federal Medicaid matching funds to incentivize expansion. But Texas, predictably, has been slow to take advantage of these opportunities. The state’s refusal to expand Medicaid under the ACA has also cost it billions of dollars in federal funding, money that could have been used to reduce the HCS waitlist and improve services for people with disabilities.
Community-Based Care: The Solution That’s Right in Front of Us
The irony of the HCS crisis is that there’s a solution sitting right in front of us, but Texas refuses to fully embrace it. Community-based care, the very thing the HCS program was designed to provide, offers a more humane, cost-effective alternative to institutionalization. Programs like the Community Living Assistance and Support Services (CLASS) waiver and the Texas Home Living (TxHmL) program allow individuals with disabilities to live in their own homes or in small group settings, receiving the services they need to thrive. These programs are generally cheaper than institutional care and lead to better outcomes for individuals with disabilities.
But access to community-based care is limited by the same thing that plagues the HCS program: long waitlists, underfunding, and bureaucratic delays. Families who apply for CLASS or TxHmL often find themselves waiting years for services, just like those on the HCS waitlist. It’s a vicious cycle, and until Texas invests more in community-based care, it’s not going to get any better.
The Way Forward: Fixing a Broken System
It’s clear that the Texas HCS system is broken, but it’s not beyond repair. Advocates have called for a range of reforms that could help fix the system, including streamlining the application process, increasing the use of automated eligibility checks, and expanding Medicaid to increase funding for disability services. Raising wages for community attendants and personal care assistants would also help address the staffing shortages that are crippling the system.
Perhaps the most important reform, however, would be expanding access to community-based care. By investing more in programs like CLASS and TxHmL, Texas could reduce the waitlists for services and ensure that people with disabilities get the help they need without having to wait a decade or more. The money is there — the state just has to choose to spend it on the people who need it most.
A Crisis of Indifference
At the heart of the Texas HCS crisis is a simple, brutal fact: the state doesn’t care enough to fix it. Whether it’s the bureaucratic bungling of Medicaid renewals, the refusal to expand Medicaid under the ACA, or the failure to adequately fund community-based care, the result is the same: people with disabilities are being left behind. For the families stuck on the HCS waitlist, the message from the state is clear: wait your turn, even if that turn never comes. It’s a crisis born of indifference, and until Texas decides to care, nothing will change.

Sunday Sep 29, 2024
Sunday Sep 29, 2024
View the original article by Texas Watchdog Highway Robbery: How Texas Cops Turn Civil Asset Forfeiture into a Cash Grab at Your Expense here.Â
The Texas Civil Asset Forfeiture system is a deeply controversial practice that allows law enforcement to seize property suspected of being connected to criminal activity—even without charging the owner with a crime. Critics argue it violates constitutional rights and disproportionately impacts low-income communities, often without providing a fair process for property recovery. This practice is rooted in legal and financial mechanisms that prioritize law enforcement profits over justice. Texas seized over $50 million through this method in 2017 alone, without substantial accountability for its application.
Seizing Property Without Charging a Crime: A License to Plunder
In Texas, you don’t need to be convicted—or even charged—with a crime for law enforcement to take your stuff. This is the ugly core of the state’s civil asset forfeiture system, a legal framework that permits the seizure of property based on little more than a whiff of suspicion. In practice, law enforcement needs nothing more than probable cause that your assets—whether cash, cars, or even homes—might be connected to illegal activity. And "probable cause," as anyone who’s ever read a police report can tell you, is the most elastic legal standard there is. It's a glorified guess. Once your property is seized, the burden of proof shifts from the state to you—an innocent citizen—who must now prove your own innocence. Yes, you read that right. You must prove that your assets weren't connected to a crime, even if you weren’t charged with one.
Innocence Doesn’t Matter When There’s Cash to Be Had
Perhaps the most jarring aspect of this legal fiasco is that 80% of civil asset forfeiture cases nationwide never lead to criminal charges. In Texas, while detailed data remains scarce due to reporting gaps, it's clear the state follows this troubling trend. This system flips our justice principles on their head—innocent until proven guilty becomes guilty until you can afford a lawyer to prove your innocence. Take the case of a couple traveling through Tenaha, Texas in 2012. Police seized over $6,000 during a routine traffic stop, accusing them of trafficking cash with no other evidence—no drugs, no weapons, just cash. Even though no charges were ever filed, they had to endure a drawn-out legal battle to reclaim their money. And the city of Tenaha is no stranger to such dubious practices. Between 2006 and 2008, local law enforcement raked in more than $3 million from motorists in similar circumstances, many of whom were never charged with a crime. This legal piracy is not an anomaly but a systemic feature of Texas’s forfeiture machine.
The Impact on Innocent People: Legalized Theft
The harsh reality for many innocent property owners is that the financial and emotional costs of contesting these seizures are prohibitive. The burden of proof is so lopsided in favor of the state that many simply give up, particularly when the legal costs of recovering their property outweigh the value of what was taken. One particularly egregious case involved Elizabeth Young, a grandmother whose house and car were confiscated after her son was arrested for selling less than $200 worth of marijuana. She had no knowledge of her son’s activities, yet she had to fight for years to get her property back. This system operates on the assumption that the property itself is guilty—an absurd concept known as in rem proceedings, where the state sues the property rather than the owner.
The Financial Incentive: Policing for Profit
Here’s where things get really dystopian: Texas law allows law enforcement agencies to keep up to 100% of the proceeds from forfeitures. That’s right—the very people seizing your property get to keep it, or at least the cash value of it. It’s no wonder forfeiture has become such a favorite tool for Texas cops. In many cases, small towns and counties rely on forfeiture proceeds to prop up their budgets, creating a perverse incentive to seize as much as possible. In Reeves County, with a population under 20,000, forfeiture proceeds in 2012 were 15 times larger than the local prosecutor's annual budget. This is the definition of a conflict of interest—when the same people enforcing the law stand to benefit financially from its application, how can they possibly be trusted to act impartially?
A System with No Safeguards: The Challenges of Reform
Given the outrage, you’d think reform would be a slam dunk, but in Texas, where law enforcement holds sway over the legislature, reform is easier said than done. In 2017, a bipartisan coalition tried to introduce several reforms to the system, including a requirement for criminal convictions before forfeiture could occur. Law enforcement officials fought back hard, claiming that this would cripple their ability to fight drug cartels and organized crime. These scare tactics worked; none of the major reforms passed. And in 2023, despite growing bipartisan support for change, the reform bill House Bill 3659—which sought to raise the burden of proof and limit small-dollar seizures—passed in the House but stalled in the Senate without so much as a hearing.
The problem is obvious: civil asset forfeiture, as it stands, generates too much easy money for local police departments and prosecutors. And that money isn’t going toward rehabilitating drug users or funding community programs. It’s going to shiny new police cars, upgraded tactical gear, and who knows what else. The financial incentives baked into the system make meaningful reform nearly impossible because the people benefiting from forfeiture are the very ones tasked with enforcing the law.
A Tale of Two Justice Systems: Targeting the Vulnerable
If you think civil asset forfeiture applies equally to all Texans, think again. Like so many abusive law enforcement practices, civil forfeiture disproportionately affects low-income individuals and communities of color. In Harris County, where over 300 vehicles are seized annually, many of those targeted are Black or Latino drivers. These individuals often don’t have the financial resources to hire a lawyer to fight for their property, meaning they’re far more likely to lose it by default. And it's not just cars and cash being taken—homes, businesses, and even life savings have been seized, often with no criminal charges ever filed.
The legal fees to contest a seizure often exceed the value of the property, especially in cases where small amounts of cash are taken. Imagine losing your vehicle during a routine traffic stop and being told that if you want it back, you’ll have to pay more in legal fees than the car is worth. This is how civil forfeiture operates—a rigged system designed to dissuade challenges and maximize profits for law enforcement.
The Legal Labyrinth: Good Luck Getting Your Stuff Back
Once your property has been seized, getting it back is a Kafkaesque nightmare. The legal process is arcane and filled with enough red tape to suffocate a small country. In many cases, property owners have as little as 10 days to file a claim contesting the forfeiture, and if you miss a single court date or file a document incorrectly, you could lose your property for good. And unlike criminal cases, where you have the right to an attorney, civil forfeiture cases don’t offer court-appointed lawyers. If you can’t afford one, you’re on your own.
Even when property owners manage to file the necessary paperwork and attend multiple hearings, the state still only needs to prove by a preponderance of the evidence—a much lower standard than “beyond a reasonable doubt”—that the property was connected to criminal activity. The deck is stacked, and the state knows it.
The Push for Reform: Too Little, Too Late?
Reform advocates aren’t giving up, though. Groups like the Institute for Justice and the American Civil Liberties Union (ACLU) have been fighting to change Texas’s civil forfeiture laws for years. They point to successful reforms in other states like New Mexico and Nebraska, where forfeiture is now only allowed after a criminal conviction. But in Texas, entrenched interests make reform a long, uphill battle. Law enforcement agencies argue that forfeiture is a crucial tool in the fight against drug trafficking, but the reality is that most forfeitures target small amounts of cash and property, not large-scale criminal enterprises.
There’s growing public support for change, and all three major political parties in Texas—Republican, Democrat, and Libertarian—have included civil forfeiture reform in their platforms. But unless lawmakers muster the courage to stand up to law enforcement lobbyists, meaningful reform may remain out of reach.
Conclusion: A Broken System Built on Profits, Not Justice
View the original article from Texas Watchdog Highway Robbery: How Texas Cops Turn Civil Asset Forfeiture into a Cash Grab at Your Expense here.Â
Texas’s civil asset forfeiture system is a cash cow for law enforcement, a broken system where your property can be taken without charges and where innocence is meaningless. The financial incentives ensure that law enforcement will continue to resist reform, and the legal barriers make it nearly impossible for property owners to reclaim what’s rightfully theirs.
Until Texas decides to prioritize due process and constitutional rights over police profits, innocent Texans will continue to be victims of a system that’s more about filling coffers than fighting crime. In a state that prides itself on personal liberty and limited government, civil asset forfeiture stands as a stark reminder that those principles don’t always apply when there’s money on the table.

Sunday Sep 29, 2024
Sunday Sep 29, 2024
You can view the original article by the Texas Watchdog here.
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The Texas State Supported Living Centers (SSLCs), which are meant to care for some of the state’s most vulnerable residents — people with intellectual and developmental disabilities — are facing an ever-growing crisis. These institutions, once designed as havens for care, have instead become synonymous with neglect, abuse, and systemic failures that persist despite years of federal oversight and a $112 million settlement. In classic style, the Lone Star State made all the promises to fix the problem but delivered nothing but smoke and mirrors. Beneath a glossy surface of “reforms” lies a cold, brutal reality: Texas’s SSLC system is failing its residents in ways that are not just shocking but also criminal.
SSLC System History: A Slow-Burning Crisis Ignored for Too Long
Texas’s SSLCs were established as a safety net for residents with developmental disabilities, promising care that would be more personal and integrated than cold, institutional alternatives. Over time, these centers morphed into something altogether different — a bureaucratic dumping ground where staff often outnumber residents but abuse is still rampant. The system has become notorious for failing to meet even the most basic care standards. After a 2009 Department of Justice investigation uncovered rampant physical abuse, neglect, and exploitation in these centers, Texas agreed to overhaul its SSLC system. They slapped a $112 million band-aid on the problem, promised sweeping reforms, and went back to business as usual. Fast forward over a decade, and what do we have? Continued abuse. Neglect. Compliance levels so abysmal that it’s hard to believe the state spent even a dime trying to fix anything. As of 2014, five years after the settlement, SSLCs had achieved a pathetic 30% compliance with mandated reforms. Thirty percent. That’s like paying a contractor to fix your roof and they only bother patching up a third of the tiles.
Why the DOJ Stepped In: Abuse, Neglect, and Shocking Fatalities
The Department of Justice didn’t decide to investigate Texas SSLCs out of some bureaucratic routine. No, they were practically dragged into it by the sheer number of horrifying incidents coming out of these centers. Take the Lubbock SSLC, for example, where between 2004 and 2005, 17 residents died under suspicious circumstances. Seventeen people — dead — and nobody could give a straight answer as to why. At the Corpus Christi SSLC, staff were caught on video forcing residents, some with severe autism, to fight each other for their amusement. Yes, a “Fight Club” for the developmentally disabled. That’s the kind of place Texas was running. And it didn’t stop there. Physical abuse at these centers included staff lashing residents with belts, stepping on their throats, and keeping them restrained for hours on end. One man at the Denton SSLC was beaten so badly that he was left in a wheelchair, unable to feed himself. And this, mind you, was the result of Texas’s version of “care.”
Sean Yates: The Tragic Face of Institutional Failure
Perhaps no story highlights the SSLC system’s failings more tragically than that of Sean Yates. Sean was a 35-year-old with severe Asperger’s syndrome and attention deficit disorder who had been living at the Corpus Christi SSLC for ten years. Despite his history of running away, the center’s staff inexplicably decided to reduce his supervision level in early 2014. Big mistake. Sean ran away, and his body was found nearly a month later in the Corpus Christi ship channel. What’s even more appalling is that Sean may have been a victim of the so-called “Fight Club” that was operating within the center. Federal monitors slammed the SSLC for their complete “lack of urgency” in addressing the rampant problems at the facility. Sean’s family had no idea what he had been subjected to, let alone that he had died because of institutional negligence. And Sean wasn’t the only one. Other residents, like a 28-year-old man at the Richmond SSLC, died from blunt force trauma in 2010, leading to criminal indictments for the staff members involved.
Federal Oversight: Window Dressing for a Rotten Core
When the DOJ swooped in, you’d think things would change. The 2009 settlement agreement required Texas to meet 171 federally mandated performance measures, all aimed at dragging the SSLC system into the realm of basic human decency. Independent monitors were assigned to assess the SSLCs every six months. Yet, despite this federal oversight, abuse, neglect, and medical malpractice continued. By 2014, most facilities had barely scratched the surface of compliance, with many only achieving 30% of the mandated reforms. It’s as if the entire system is wired to resist change. Sure, a few hundred staff members were fired or forced to resign in 2014, but let’s face it — that was little more than a PR stunt. For every abuser caught, how many more slipped through the cracks?
The Cost of Doing Nothing: Texas’s Financial and Moral Bankruptcy
You’d think that with all this money Texas is throwing into the black hole that is the SSLC system, someone might ask whether the entire thing is worth it. Spoiler alert: it’s not. In 2015, the average annual cost per SSLC resident was more than $210,000, making these centers one of the most expensive care options for individuals with disabilities. That’s taxpayer money, mind you. And what are we getting for it? Substandard care, abuse scandals, and a system that actively harms the people it’s supposed to protect. Meanwhile, alternative community-based care options, like Home and Community-Based Services (HCS), cost a fraction of what SSLCs do and generally produce better outcomes. But Texas seems hellbent on maintaining these money pits. Even as the state’s budget hemorrhages from the cost of maintaining 13 SSLCs, enrollment has plummeted by 70% over the past three decades. We’re paying more to care for fewer people, and doing a worse job while we’re at it.
Community-Based Care: The Obvious Answer Everyone’s Ignoring
Here’s the kicker: there’s a solution sitting right in front of Texas’s face, but the state refuses to fully embrace it. Community-based care, specifically through the HCS waiver and the Texas Home Living (TxHmL) program, offers a more humane, cost-effective alternative to the SSLCs. These programs provide tailored care, allowing individuals with disabilities to live in their own homes or smaller group settings while receiving the services they need. They’re not perfect — thanks to years of underfunding and long waiting lists — but they’re undeniably better than the horrors going on in the SSLCs. The problem? Texas hasn’t invested nearly enough in these alternatives. The waitlists for HCS services are legendary, with some families waiting more than a decade for help. Meanwhile, SSLCs continue to vacuum up resources, despite overwhelming evidence that they’re outdated, ineffective, and downright dangerous.
Reform Efforts: Politicians Tinker While the System Burns
In response to the ongoing catastrophe, the Texas Sunset Advisory Commission floated the idea of closing six of the 13 SSLCs in 2014. Naturally, this sparked a wave of outrage from families of SSLC residents and various advocacy groups. So the Texas Legislature punted. They shelved the closure plans, leaving the centers open and the problems unresolved. It’s a classic case of Texas lawmakers making just enough noise about reform to look like they care, while quietly ensuring that nothing really changes. In 2015, Senate Bill 204, which proposed closing the Austin SSLC and establishing a restructuring committee for other centers, was defeated. It was a missed opportunity to overhaul a failing system, and it’s the residents who are paying the price.
Staffing Woes: The Workers Are Set Up to Fail
Let’s be clear: part of the reason these centers are such a disaster is that the staff — who are often underpaid, undertrained, and overstretched — are set up to fail. Sure, the state tried to address staffing shortages in 2011 by filling 94% of positions, but that did nothing to solve the larger systemic issues. Even when staffing levels improved, abuse continued. Why? Because the problem isn’t just numbers; it’s culture. The SSLCs have cultivated a toxic environment where abuse is tolerated, medical care is inadequate, and residents’ rights are trampled on. And without meaningful changes in leadership, training, and oversight, no amount of new hires will fix that.
The Path Forward: Burn It Down and Start Over
At this point, it’s clear that the SSLC system, as it exists today, can’t be saved. It’s too expensive, too broken, and too dangerous. The best way forward is to phase it out entirely, focusing instead on expanding community-based care options that actually work. The money Texas is wasting on maintaining SSLCs would be better spent on fixing the waitlists for HCS and TxHmL services, ensuring that people get the help they need when they need it. But that requires political will, something in short supply in the Texas Legislature. Until then, we’re left with a system that fails everyone involved — residents, families, staff, and taxpayers.
A System That Destroys, Not Protects
Texas’s SSLCs were supposed to provide care and protection for the state’s most vulnerable residents. Instead, they’ve become emblematic of a system that destroys more than it protects. The abuses are rampant, the costs are astronomical, and the reform efforts have been a joke. The fact that these centers are still open is a testament to Texas’s refusal to confront its own failures. It’s long past time for the state to shut down these glorified prisons, invest in community-based care, and finally deliver on the promises it made over a decade ago. Until that happens, the residents of Texas’s SSLCs will remain trapped in a system that was designed to care for them but has done nothing but fail them.

Sunday Sep 29, 2024
Sunday Sep 29, 2024
View our original article The Texas IDD Caregiver Crisis: How the Lone Star State Abandoned Its Most Vulnerable here.Â
In Texas, caring for people with intellectual and developmental disabilities (IDD) was supposed to be a community-based solution—progressive even. Instead, it's become an exercise in government failure so stark, it would make Kafka shake his head in disbelief. Welcome to the Texas IDD Caregiver Crisis, where Direct Support Professionals (DSPs), the underpaid and underappreciated workforce keeping this house of cards from crumbling, are abandoning ship. The predictable result? A human disaster in slow motion, hitting the most vulnerable populations first.
What started out as a decent idea—keeping individuals with IDD out of large institutions and integrating them into the community—has deteriorated into one of the state’s biggest social care crises. The entire system is being strangled by chronic underfunding, neglect, and a workforce exodus that’s turning an already dire situation into a catastrophe. Meanwhile, the state pretends it’s “working on it,” offering piecemeal solutions while the cracks in the foundation grow larger by the day. It’s a slow-motion collapse, and the casualties are the people who need help the most: individuals with IDD and the DSPs who are barely hanging on.
The Great DSP Exodus: A Workforce on the Brink of Collapse
Let’s get one thing straight: the system’s foundation is Direct Support Professionals—the DSPs. They’re the ones who assist with day-to-day needs like eating, bathing, dressing, and taking medication. You know, the stuff of basic survival. For their trouble, Texas pays them a laughable $10.60 an hour, a wage so low it should be considered a public insult. This isn’t work that anyone can walk into. It’s emotionally taxing, physically demanding, and vital for the people they serve. But in Texas, it’s treated like a part-time gig at a fast-food joint.
And here’s the kicker: that $10.60 is after the state authorized a slight bump in wages. Before that? It was $8.11 an hour—less than what most people make scanning groceries. Let that sink in for a second. You’ve got people managing the lives of Texans with serious developmental disabilities, often working 60 to 100 hours a week, and their paychecks wouldn’t even cover rent in most Texas cities.
What happens when you pay people this poorly to do such important work? They leave. In droves. Vacancy rates for DSPs in Texas have climbed to 34% in 2024, up from 30% in 2021. It’s like a slow-rolling tidal wave of attrition. DSPs are quitting, facilities are shutting down, and individuals with IDD are left in limbo, often sent back into institutional settings that are supposed to be the last resort. This isn’t a workforce shortage; this is a full-on labor collapse.
Facilities Closing at Alarming Rates: An Avoidable Catastrophe
The math is simple: fewer DSPs means fewer facilities can stay open. Since January 2023, 179 HCS homes and 50 ICF facilities have closed, with projections showing another 126 facilities will shutter before the end of 2024. These numbers are not some abstract policy issue; they represent people—residents who lose their homes, their caregivers, and any sense of stability.
Families in rural areas are hit particularly hard by these closures. In small towns, when a facility closes, there’s no Plan B. There’s no secondary facility just down the road; there’s nothing. These families are now faced with impossible choices: either move their loved ones to institutions far from home or take on the overwhelming responsibility of care themselves. Neither option is humane. Neither option is right.
A Caregiver Workforce on Life Support
Meanwhile, for the DSPs who are hanging on, the work conditions are absurd. Many are working double or even triple shifts to make up for the shortage in staffing. The result? Burnout, exhaustion, and mistakes. Medication errors in care facilities have spiked by 20% since 2021, and there’s been a 30% increase in behavioral incidents. These are the inevitable outcomes when you ask a workforce to work twice as hard for wages that barely keep the lights on. It’s like trying to build a skyscraper with dollar-store tools.
Texas isn’t just failing DSPs; it’s failing the people they serve. The turnover and shortage in staff mean that the residents—Texans with IDD—are stuck in an endless churn of new caregivers. There’s no consistency, no continuity in care. And for people with IDD, many of whom rely on structure and routine, this is disastrous. Every new caregiver is a disruption, and every disruption can lead to behavioral regressions, anxiety, and emotional distress.
The Hollow Promise of Community-Based Care
When Texas first began moving people with IDD out of large institutions and into community-based care, it was hailed as a major step forward. Instead of warehousing people in faceless institutions, the idea was to give them more independence by offering care in smaller, more personal settings. It was supposed to be more humane, more integrated, and more responsive. But somewhere along the line, Texas stopped funding the vision.
The state’s refusal to adequately fund the system has turned a once-promising model of care into a bureaucratic horror show. The Texas Health and Human Services Commission (HHSC) is tasked with overseeing this mess, but their hands are tied by decades of budget cuts and mismanagement. Despite numerous reports highlighting the workforce crisis and the facility closures, the state has done little more than throw around token increases in funding—none of which come close to addressing the root of the problem.
What Texas Could Do (But Probably Won’t)
Let’s not pretend this problem doesn’t have solutions. The Time to Care coalition and other advocacy groups have been crystal clear: Texas needs to raise DSP wages to at least $15 an hour. It’s not a perfect fix, but it’s a start. Even then, $15 an hour is the floor, not the ceiling. DSPs should be paid in line with the crucial nature of their work, not as an afterthought in the state budget.
Another critical issue is Medicaid reimbursement rates, which are woefully inadequate. Providers can’t pay their staff or keep their doors open because the reimbursement rates for HCS services haven’t kept pace with inflation, let alone the actual cost of care. It’s not rocket science—if Texas wants to keep DSPs in the field and facilities open, it needs to invest in them.
But let’s not kid ourselves about what’s really going on here. Texas has consistently refused to expand Medicaid under the Affordable Care Act, leaving billions of federal dollars on the table. Dollars that could have funded higher wages, better facilities, and shorter waitlists. Between 2014 and 2024, Texas forfeited over $36 billion in federal funding—money that could have gone directly to fixing this crisis. Instead, it went to other states, while Texas’s IDD community is left to rot.
The Real Cost: Lives Put on Hold or Wrecked Entirely
For the individuals with IDD caught up in this mess, the human cost is impossible to calculate. These aren’t just numbers on a ledger; these are real people, real families, facing real consequences. Take the story of Sean Yates, a 35-year-old resident of the Corpus Christi SSLC who tragically died after escaping from the facility. His family had placed their trust in the system to care for him, but the system was too broken to provide even the most basic safeguards. Sean’s death is a stark reminder of what happens when a state refuses to adequately fund and oversee its care systems.
For others, the consequences are less immediate but no less severe. Families are going bankrupt trying to cover the gaps in care, often forced to leave their jobs to care for loved ones full-time. The emotional toll is immense, as parents, siblings, and spouses watch their loved ones languish in a system that treats them as afterthoughts.
A State That Doesn't Care
What’s most galling about all of this is the state’s indifference. Texas is a wealthy state. It could fix this if it wanted to. But fixing it requires political will, and political will requires caring about the lives of people who don’t have lobbyists. The fact that the state continues to underfund IDD care, refuse Medicaid expansion, and ignore the plight of DSPs tells you everything you need to know. The state doesn’t care because it doesn’t have to. The people suffering don’t have a voice loud enough to make them care.
So here we are, in 2024, watching a system that was supposed to be a beacon of progress collapse under the weight of its own neglect. Facilities are closing. DSPs are quitting. Families are breaking under the strain. And all the while, Texas lawmakers sit on their hands, offering up “task forces” and “working groups” as the solution. But until Texas decides to prioritize its most vulnerable citizens, this crisis will continue to unfold. And the people who will suffer the most are those who are least equipped to advocate for themselves.
Conclusion: The Crisis Texas Won't Solve
The Texas IDD Caregiver Crisis is a perfect storm of bad policy, underfunding, and political indifference. The people who need help the most are being left behind, and the workers who care for them are abandoning the profession in droves. What’s left is a system on life support, propped up by temporary fixes and empty promises. The state has the resources to fix this, but so far, it’s shown no interest in doing so. For individuals with IDD, their families, and the DSPs still hanging on, the message from Texas is clear: Don’t expect help anytime soon.

Saturday Sep 28, 2024
Saturday Sep 28, 2024

Saturday Sep 28, 2024
The Dire State of Direct Support - Time to Care Texas
Saturday Sep 28, 2024
Saturday Sep 28, 2024
In this eye-opening episode, we delve into the critical crisis facing direct support professionals (DSPs) in Texas. With insights from Time to Care Texas, we uncover the harsh realities these essential workers endure, from low wages to high turnover rates. Discover the human impact behind the statistics and explore the systemic issues that perpetuate this crisis.
We discuss the staggering turnover rate of 48.4% among DSPs and the devastating effects on individuals with intellectual and developmental disabilities (IDD) who rely on consistent, quality care. Learn about the efforts to raise DSP wages and the push for federal occupational standards to professionalize and support this vital workforce.
Join us as we highlight the importance of empathy and collective action in creating meaningful change. Find out how you can get involved and support the fight for better conditions for DSPs and individuals with IDD. This episode is a call to action for a more compassionate and just society.

Saturday Sep 28, 2024
Navigating ARD Meetings in Texas: Empowering Parents and Students
Saturday Sep 28, 2024
Saturday Sep 28, 2024
ARD meetings in Texas can be overwhelming with their acronyms and legalese. This episode is a deep dive to break it all down and equip you to be the best advocate for your child. Join us as we demystify ARD meetings, featuring insights from Mary Jenkins, founder of Above and Beyond Caring. Be sure to check out her original article here.
We discuss the basics of ARD meetings, the key players involved, and their roles. Learn practical tips for preparation, including gathering information, setting goals, bringing in reinforcements, taking notes, and asking questions. Understand your legal rights as a parent and the importance of collaboration with the school.
Discover strategies for resolving disagreements constructively and explore options like facilitated IEP meetings and mediation. We also touch on the significance of student advocacy and how to help your child find their voice.
Join us for this comprehensive guide to navigating ARD meetings, empowering you with the knowledge and tools to support your child's education journey. Check out the show notes for additional resources and insights from Mary Jenkins.

Saturday Sep 28, 2024
Unmasking Injustice: The Failures of Texas State Supported Living Centers
Saturday Sep 28, 2024
Saturday Sep 28, 2024
View our original article Texas State Supported Living Centers (SSLC) System Failure: A Critical Investigative Report here.Â
Texas’s State Supported Living Centers (SSLCs), facilities meant to care for individuals with intellectual and developmental disabilities (IDD), have been a focal point of controversy due to persistent issues of neglect, abuse, and systemic failures. Despite a 2009 settlement with the U.S. Department of Justice (DOJ), which mandated comprehensive reforms to improve living conditions for residents, widespread abuse, neglect, and civil rights violations continue to plague the SSLC system. This investigative report explores the history of these issues, the legal battles, the impact on residents, and the failure of Texas to address these ongoing problems.
The DOJ Investigation and 2009 Settlement: A Failed Reformation
In 2009, the DOJ conducted an investigation into Texas SSLCs and uncovered shocking conditions that violated the constitutional rights of residents. The investigation found rampant abuse, neglect, and exploitation at several facilities, including instances of staff members physically abusing residents, such as stepping on their throats, lashing them with belts, and forcing residents to fight each other for entertainment. Between 2004 and 2005, 17 suspicious deaths were recorded at the Lubbock SSLC, adding to the growing concerns about inadequate care.
The findings resulted in a $112 million settlement with the DOJ, in which Texas agreed to implement significant reforms. The state was tasked with bringing its facilities into compliance with 171 federally mandated performance measures by 2014. However, five years after the settlement, most SSLCs were found to be only 30% compliant, leading advocates to question whether these facilities were capable of reform at all.
Widespread Deficiencies in Care
The investigation revealed systemic failures in medical and psychiatric care, safety measures, and living conditions. Many residents were not receiving proper medical care or psychiatric support, and basic needs like dental services were often neglected. The DOJ’s monitors, appointed to oversee compliance, reported serious deficiencies in almost every aspect of care at the SSLCs. Despite the federal settlement, abuse and neglect persisted, leading to the dismissal of 375 staff members in 2014 due to confirmed cases of mistreatment.
Tragic Cases of Neglect and Abuse: Sean Yates and Others
One of the most heart-wrenching examples of systemic neglect at an SSLC was the case of Sean Yates, a 35-year-old resident with severe Asperger’s syndrome who had been living at the Corpus Christi SSLC for a decade. Despite Yates’s known tendency to escape, the facility reduced his supervision just days before he ran away in 2014. After nearly a month of searching, Yates’s body was discovered in the Corpus Christi ship channel.
Investigators pointed to a lack of urgency from SSLC staff in addressing institutional problems uncovered after Yates's death. His family later learned that Sean may have been a victim of a “fight club” at the SSLC, in which staff forced residents to fight one another for amusement. Yates’s tragic death highlighted not only the danger posed by inadequate supervision but also the deeply rooted culture of abuse that existed within SSLCs.
Sean Yates’s case is not an isolated incident. In 2010, a 28-year-old resident at the Richmond SSLC died from blunt force trauma, leading to the indictment of two employees for injuring a disabled person. Similarly, in 2013, a resident at the Austin SSLC died after being left alone in a room, moaning in pain, until a staff member found him blue and unresponsive. These tragedies underscore the failure of the SSLC system to provide adequate care for its most vulnerable residents.
Impact on Resident Safety and Well-being
The systemic failures within Texas SSLCs have had a devastating impact on the safety and well-being of the residents. In 2014 alone, there were 572 confirmed cases of abuse, neglect, and exploitation across the state’s SSLCs—more than double the state's goal of 214 incidents. The high number of abuse cases indicates that, despite reforms, the system remains incapable of protecting its residents from harm.
Instances of physical abuse remain a significant concern. Some residents have been subjected to extreme violence, such as being beaten, restrained for hours, or, as noted earlier, forced to engage in fights for the entertainment of staff members. The trauma inflicted on residents by such abuse often goes unaddressed, further exacerbating their mental and emotional health challenges.
Neglect is also a pervasive problem in SSLCs. The inadequate supervision that led to Sean Yates’s death is a prime example of how neglect can have fatal consequences. Many residents, who require close monitoring and individualized care, are left without sufficient support due to staffing shortages and poorly trained personnel. This neglect not only puts residents' physical health at risk but also affects their mental and emotional well-being, as they are left in environments where they do not feel safe.
Federal Oversight and Compliance Failures
Following the 2009 DOJ settlement, federal oversight of the SSLC system was supposed to ensure that the facilities improved and met the necessary standards of care. Independent monitors were appointed to evaluate SSLCs every six months, reviewing their compliance across five key domains: residential services, medical and nursing care, psychiatric care, habilitation, and protections.
Yet, despite this oversight, the pace of reform has been dismally slow. By 2014, five years into the settlement agreement, most SSLCs had achieved only around 30% compliance with the mandated performance measures. This failure to meet key benchmarks has been attributed to a combination of factors, including insufficient staff training, poor leadership, and a lack of enforcement mechanisms.
Legal Repercussions and Ongoing Litigation
The legal challenges facing Texas SSLCs have been ongoing since the 2009 settlement. Despite the financial penalties imposed by the settlement, abuse and neglect persisted, prompting additional lawsuits. In 2011, disability rights advocates filed another lawsuit, claiming that the state continued to violate the civil rights of SSLC residents. This legal action, combined with the individual cases of abuse and neglect, has kept Texas embroiled in costly litigation related to its SSLC system.
In addition to lawsuits, criminal charges have been brought against several SSLC employees for their roles in abusing residents. For example, two employees at the Richmond SSLC were indicted in 2010 for causing the death of a resident due to blunt force trauma. These criminal cases highlight the severe consequences of the state’s failure to adequately supervise its facilities and protect residents from harm.
Financial Burden on Texas: A Costly System
The Texas SSLC system not only fails its residents but also places a significant financial burden on the state. In 2015, the average annual cost per SSLC resident exceeded $210,000—making SSLCs one of the most expensive care options for individuals with IDD. This high cost is driven by several factors, including rising per-resident expenses, declining enrollment, and the need for costly renovations and maintenance at the aging facilities.
The financial burden of maintaining the SSLC system is unsustainable. The Texas Sunset Advisory Commission has repeatedly raised concerns about the inefficiency of the system, noting that the state operates 13 SSLCs despite serving a shrinking population. Over the past 35 years, the average monthly population at SSLCs has declined by more than 70%, yet the cost per resident continues to rise. As a result, the state is spending more on fewer people, while failing to meet basic care standards.
Community-Based Care: A Better Alternative?
Given the systemic failures of SSLCs, many advocates and policymakers are calling for a shift towards community-based care options. Programs like the Home and Community-Based Services (HCS) waiver offer individuals with IDD the opportunity to live in their own homes or small group homes while receiving personalized support. These programs are generally more cost-effective, with the average annual cost of community-based care significantly lower than that of SSLCs.
In addition to being more affordable, community-based care models often lead to better outcomes for individuals with IDD. Studies have shown that people living in community settings experience greater independence, better health outcomes, and improved quality of life compared to those in institutional care. However, despite the clear benefits of community-based care, long waiting lists and a lack of funding have limited access to these services in Texas.
Reform Efforts: Can the SSLC System Be Salvaged?
While the Texas Legislature has taken steps to address the problems within the SSLC system, progress has been slow, and the fundamental issues remain unresolved. In 2014, the Texas Sunset Advisory Commission recommended closing six of the state’s 13 SSLCs, citing high operating costs and declining enrollment. However, strong opposition from families and advocates stalled these efforts, and no closures have occurred to date.
One of the biggest challenges to reforming the SSLC system is balancing the needs of residents with complex medical and behavioral issues who may not be able to transition to community-based care. While advocates for closure argue that SSLCs are outdated and unsafe, families of some residents fear that their loved ones will not receive the level of care they need in a community setting. As a result, any reform efforts must be carefully planned to ensure that individuals with the most complex needs are not left without appropriate care.
The Path Forward: Necessary Reforms and Alternatives
To address the ongoing crisis in the SSLC system, Texas must implement significant reforms and explore alternative care models. These reforms should include:
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Improving staff training and retention: One of the biggest problems in SSLCs is the lack of well-trained and dedicated staff. Texas needs to invest in better training programs for SSLC employees, focusing on abuse prevention, crisis intervention, and person-centered care.
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Enhancing oversight and accountability: Federal oversight has been insufficient in ensuring compliance with the DOJ settlement. Texas should strengthen its monitoring and enforcement mechanisms to hold SSLCs accountable for providing safe and appropriate care.
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Expanding community-based care: Texas must prioritize the expansion of community-based care programs like HCS and reduce waiting lists to make these services accessible to more individuals with IDD.
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Developing a transition plan: For those residents who can transition to community-based care, Texas should create a comprehensive plan that includes individualized assessments, family involvement, and ongoing support during the transition process.
Conclusion: A System in Crisis
The Texas SSLC system is a deeply flawed and costly model that has consistently failed to meet the needs of its residents. Despite years of federal oversight, abuse and neglect remain pervasive, and the state continues to spend exorbitant amounts of money on a system that is failing its most vulnerable citizens. While community-based care offers a more promising and cost-effective alternative, Texas must take action to expand these services and provide a path forward for residents trapped in the SSLC system. The time for incremental reforms has passed—Texas must commit to bold and comprehensive changes to protect the rights and well-being of individuals with intellectual and developmental disabilities.