By Carolyn Szczepanski

Clutching a red leather purse in her lap, Linda Wilson drags her fingers lightly across her temple, draws in a deep breath and slowly blinks back tears. Tucked into a corner office on the top floor of the Polk County courthouse, Linda intermittently breaks the heavy silence in the small lobby, muttering, "It's just unbelievable" and "What about her civil rights?"

To her right, a table piled with outdated magazines remains untouched as the minutes tick by and raised voices filter out from behind the dense wooden door that guards the chambers of Polk County Judge Ruth Klotz. Linda continues to shift slightly in her seat, her face fluctuating from worried exhaustion to indignant frustration, until, nearly an hour after an assistant district attorney, a court appointed lawyer, a social worker and the Wilsons' attorney filed into Judge Klotz' chambers for a morning hearing, Patricia Wengert, the family's counsel, emerges with a pained look.

"Well," Wengert announces sullenly, "the Granny Gestapo wins again."

Nearly six months ago, Mary Stenlund, Linda's 88-year-old mother who had been living with her for the past 26 years, fell ill just three days after Christmas and was rushed to the hospital in an ambulance. A week later, the Department of Human Services (DHS) obtained a court order to enter Linda's house, alleging the home was laden with such unsanitary conditions that Linda was guilty of dependent adult abuse, and moved Stenlund from Mercy Medical Center to a 24-hour nursing home facility against her family's will. Then, after months of concern regarding her mother's care and consistent pleas from Stenlund to take her home, Linda allegedly abducted the frail senior from the Fleur Heights nursing home, sparking a frantic police search that ended with the two women found eating ice cream at a local Dairy Queen.

On this late April morning, Wengert once again goes to bat for the Wilson family, arguing that the injunction keeping Linda from visiting her mother should be lifted and, wielding pictures of a much cleaner house and claims that the family will make provisions for in-home care and monitoring, that the senior should be allowed to return home. But instead, as the family and several supporters gather in the courthouse corridor, Linda learns that, not only will the injunction stand, but the district attorney is considering filing criminal kidnapping charges against her for the unauthorized ice cream trip. Once again reduced to frustrated sighs, Linda, who already spent three nights in jail after the alleged nursing-home abduction, says the separation from her mother isn't doing anyone any good.

"I'm her daughter, not only her caretaker," she says. "I love her, and I know what she wants. I've got 62 years with that woman and nobody could ever have a better mother or a more fantastic relationship than I've had. I'm just thankful every day that my mother is alive, and to be ripped away from her? It's just, it's killing to me. So it's true that I would do anything that needed to be done so my mother can return home."

John Wilson, Stenlund's grandson, says he has been working to bring his grandma home as well, and over the past month has ramped up a harsh public attack against the DHS and county attorney's office. On his recently launched Web site - SaveGrandma.org - the 34-year-old Des Moines resident describes the DHS as "evil," accusing the assistant Polk County attorney of "cruel and inhumane treatment." Leveling charges that the state has locked away his grandma against her will and enjoined her closest family from visiting her, John has become a one-man protest, standing on busy street corners with homemade placards and distributing bright orange fliers that blare, "Public Emergency: Grandma imprisoned by the state."

But state and local officials describe a very different scenario. They say that, with Iowa's aging population on the rise, the state is merely taking steps to protect the thousands of senior citizens who may be suffering from deplorable living conditions, at risk of being neglected or financially exploited by their caregivers. Declining to comment specifically on the Wilsons' aggressive criticism, they acknowledge that elder abuse cases can be contentious - especially when the question of mental competency enters into the equation - but state officials are intent on keeping seniors' golden years from being tarnished by greedy or negligent caregivers.

Polk County District Attorney John Sarcone says, "We don't talk about cases that are pending, but we are motivated by taking care of people. To put up a goofy Web site and call people names adds nothing to this at all. That's just a juvenile approach to things."

Roger Munns, spokesman for the DHS also declines to comment on the case, but notes, "I will say, I'm not sure how far they will get with name calling, and we, certainly, are not going to engage."

But with the state turning more attention to prosecuting alleged abusers and bolstering resources for vulnerable seniors, will charges of the state acting as a "Granny Gestapo" increase in coming years? Wilson, who says SaveGrandma.org got nearly 2,000 hits last week alone, says he's only at the forefront of a burgeoning public outcry to protect elder rights.

For district attorney Sarcone, prosecuting alleged perpetrators of elder abuse hits close to home. With a mother who passed away after being diagnosed with Alzheimer's, Sarcone knows firsthand the tenuous circumstances facing many Iowa seniors in their later years.

"I've seen it with my mom, seen how the disease operates, and many people can be taken advantage of," he says.

Iowa ranks fourth in the nation in the number of residents over the age of 65, Sarcone points out, and second in persons over the age of 80. Once seniors reach the eight-decade mark, he adds, they have a 50-50 chance of being diagnosed with some form of dementia, leaving them "very vulnerable" to both physical and financial abuse. "With the aging population in the state it makes sense to do something," he says, so it's not surprising that Polk is the only county in the state with an assistant district attorney dedicated solely to elder abuse cases.

"And we've seen some horrendous situations involving elderly victims with caregivers who were supposed to be taking care of them," he adds. "Blossom Deering was one of them, where the guy was supposed to be taking care of her, but she had fallen, was left in her own excrement, had stuck to the floor and, instead of taking care of her, he was out spending her money at Prairie Meadows."

Sandi Koll, adult protective services manager for the Department of Human Services, says her agency receives between 2,500 and 3,000 reports of elder abuse annually and substantiates between 25 and 30 percent of those referrals. For instance, in 2004 the Des Moines service area (encompassing 14 counties) accounted for 491 reports of abuse, of which 107 were determined to be credible. Sarcone says the Polk County Elder Abuse Unit pursues "more than 100 situations" each year, though charges are not filed in every instance, and Lori Kelly, a Des Moines police officer who works elder abuse and neglect cases, says her unit investigates a minimum of 20 physical abuse cases each year in which the victim was an elder or dependent adult.

But Gerald Jogerst, a professor of family medicine at the University of Iowa who also sits on the governor-appointed Dependent Adult Abuse Council, knows better than to think those numbers are even close to conveying the true extent of the problem.

"There's a lot more happening out there than is documented," he says. "What the state stats show is just the tip of the iceberg."

In fact, according to the oft-cited 1998 National Elder Abuse Incidence Study, only 16 percent of abusive situations were referred for help, while a Senate Special Committee on Aging estimates that there may be as many as 5 million victims each year.

Though the true number of incidents remains unknown, however, there are clear trends in abuse that is reported. The most common cases, according to local experts, involve financial exploitation of a dependent senior or denial of critical care on the part of the caregivers. Kelly says that rings true in the metro, where DMPD most frequently respond to situations where "family members are stealing grandma's money" or seniors are "left in horrible living conditions."

But such horrible living conditions often remain hidden, as experts emphasize that elder abuse is perhaps the most complicated form of domestic crime to identify and remedy. As Jogerst points out, one of the biggest barriers to addressing the problem is reluctance on the part of the victim.

"For instance, there's guilt that, 'I didn't raise my child to take care of me,' or 'It's a family matter and it shouldn't involve the state,'" he explains. "And what are the alternatives? There's the fear that, if I'm not at home, where I'm going to be will be worse off."

And, while seniors are hesitant to come forward with allegations of abuse, Linda Hildreth, Elder Abuse System Coordinator for the Iowa Department of Elder Affairs, points out that the wider community has yet to take the proactive stance on protecting seniors that it has in rallying around children in danger of abuse or neglect.

"Society seems to be more hands off when it comes to adults," she says. "The perceptions of 'live and let live' or 'it isn't any of my business or responsibility' are more prevalent when dealing with elders because they're adults."

That's why Koll says increasing public funding is so important - a message that has begun to resonate with policymakers in recent years. For instance, in 2001 the Iowa Legislature funded the establishment of the Elder Abuse Initiative (EAI), which created a service delivery system incorporating a host of agencies, from the DHS to the county attorney's office, in mobilizing prompt evaluation of the situation and assessment of service options. In the 19 counties covered by the EAI program, the number of reported abuse cases jumped by more than 72 percent between 2001 and 2005, with a dramatic 248 percent increase in the number of new clients. Though Hildreth emphasizes state support has remained "status quo" for the past several years, funding for the EAI has grown to $366,800 in fiscal year 2006.

On the federal level, Koll says this year is the most promising yet for the passage of the Elder Justice Act. A piece of legislation that Koll herself helped author, the measure would funnel approximately $1 million in federal money to Iowa to specifically address elder abuse.

"With those kinds of funds," she says, "we could step up to the plate. In child abuse, we literally have millions in federal funds coming into the state every year, and look at how all of us know about child abuse. Whereas, if you don't have funding, you're invisible."

But while Jogerst calls the lack of resources for abused seniors "a social atrocity in the U.S.," local civil rights lawyer Patricia Wengert sees a very different scenario unfolding should funding increase. She worries that money could bolster a protective services system that is already bordering on Big Brother tendencies. And the case of Mary Stenlund, Wengert says, is a perfect example of such overzealous attempts by the state to protect its citizens.

"I want senior citizens to know what's resulted from these federal grants and state grants that were designed with good intentions to deal with this problem of elder abuse," Wengert says. "I think the system they've created has overreached."

According to the Department of Human Services, when the paramedics first arrived at Linda Wilson's home on December 28, their initial diagnosis was that 88-year-old Mary Stenlund was already dead.

As court documents outline, upon admission to Mercy Medical Center's Intensive Care Unit, "[Stenlund's] prognosis was grim." Suffering from what her family calls "a severe kidney infection and pneumonia," DHS reports suggest that Stenlund was discovered with vomit on her face and hair, lying on a bed that was soiled in a house that was "cluttered."

According to John Wilson, though, the situation was not as "grim" as state officials suggest. By all accounts healthy just three days earlier when she spent Christmas at his home, Stenlund - who suffers from a host of medical problems, including diabetes - fell ill unexpectedly and, the condition of her body and bed were a temporary result of becoming sick that day. Though there were "things stacked up" in various corners of the home and "plastic tubs of stuff" belonging to his grandmother, John adds, the house was not nearly as unsanitary as reports described, and family members were quick to mobilize medical attention for Stenlund.

But two days after Stenlund was admitted to the hospital, officials from the DHS approached the family, asking questions about the state of Wilson's home and quality of Stenlund's care. When the DHS worker first approached his grandma, John says Stenlund clearly informed the official that she had nothing to say to her and that "they continued to badger her, despite the fact that she told them to leave." In fact, John adds, he made audio and video recordings of the encounters, posting excerpts on his Web site of his grandmother expressing her wishes to return home upon her recovery.

However, DHS officials persisted in requests to enter the home, and, according to court documents, after arranging times with the family to view the house, the Wilsons "did not show up," told officials it was "not convenient" or simply "refused to leave the hospital." Of course, Linda is the first to admit she was determined to stay at her mother's side, and was taken aback by the attention from the DHS.

"When somebody approached me, I was dumfounded," she says. "This person appeared at the hospital and demanded to be let in to my house. I wasn't going to leave my mother, so I told him I'd make arrangements for someone to let him in. And that was when [another DHS worker] came, and she was very belligerent from the word go. It was like, you said black, she said white. She never tried to work with us in any way, shape or form, even when we complied with their wishes. It was unbelievable."

With officials describing the family as being "uncooperative" in granting access to the house to "assess habitability and dangerousness," Polk County Judge Ruth Klotz issued an emergency order authorizing protective services for Stenlund on January 6 and DHS officials entered the home. According to court documents, "the conditions of the home clearly [were] such that [Stenlund] cannot safely return," due to "signs that the home [was] infested with roaches and mice," that some "rooms [were] cluttered, with only a path to walk in," and that the "kitchen was unsanitary."

Less than a week later, court documents were filed noting that the investigation of Linda Wilson for denial of critical care would be "founded" and, because "the dependent adult abuse presents an immediate danger to the health and safety" of Stenlund, the DHS recommended her placement at Fleur Heights nursing home. Based on the state of the home, recommendations from medical staff at Mercy that she required 24-hour care, and the DHS social worker's assertion that Stenlund "appeared to be confused and unable to make decisions," Judge Klotz signed a second emergency order on January 17 authorizing Stenlund's transfer to Fleur Heights.

But the Wilson family says they were outraged by that determination, with John charging that DHS used "deception" to get the order. How could Stenlund be designated incapable of making her own decisions, John asks, when an ordered neuropsychological evaluation had yet to be completed? And even if Stenlund was suffering from some form of dementia, what about the power of attorney she completed (with some concern from hospital staff that she did not understand what she was signing, according to court documents) on January 6, giving John and Linda authority to make decisions for her care? And what about Stenlund's clear demands to return home to her daughter's care?

"What if she dies out there, alone, without her family members because of the action DHS has taken?" Wengert says. "Mary is in a position right now where she feels like she's in prison. She begged me to find out what they think Linda did wrong, what she did to deserve this punishment. With her time left, she just wants to be with her family members."

For all the potential debate about the necessity of protective services for senior citizens, DHS spokesman Munns emphasizes that the argument boils down to one word: dependent.

"If there's a competent adult getting bad services, we might disapprove of the services they're providing for themselves, but it's not our business," he says. "But on the other hand, a not competent person, a person dependent on others, that's where Iowa law comes into play."

Passed in 1982, the state's dependent adult abuse law defines a dependent adult as an individual "who is unable to protect the person's own interests or unable to adequately perform or obtain service necessary to meet essential human needs" and provides for a host of criminal penalties for caregivers who neglect or exploit adults in their care. In the case of senior citizens, that ability to protect self interests often hinges on a determination of mental competence. While Munns emphasizes that there's a well-established, legal process for determining who is and is not competent, with more than 150 Iowans placed in adult protective services in 2004, even Koll acknowledges that determining mental fitness can be a challenge.

"For some people, it's pretty obvious," Koll says. "Unfortunately, for a larger population of people it's questionable and you may not be able to tell by talking to them. Some have good days and bad days, and, especially in a social context, where a DHS person is walking into their life, people have an amazing ability to pull together their social skills. Even with Alzheimer's, they might sound as clear as a bell, and then you go back a couple hours later and they don't know what's going on. It's hugely difficult to determine, and oftentimes we do call in other experts to help determine whether the person is capable of understanding."

In the case of Mary Stenlund, court documents filed by social workers and court-appointed lawyers describe instances during which the 88-year-old was "confused," unable to remember names or just-completed conversations. According to a report filed last week by Jessica Chandler, Stenlund's court-appointed legal representative (who did not return Cityview's calls last week), Stenlund has been diagnosed with dementia and Alzheimer's.

But the Wilson family says, though she is pushing 90 years old, Stenlund is still a competent, not to mention clever, lady. John emphasizes the video clips on the Save Grandma Web site demonstrate that.

"One of the things my grandma said was, 'When it comes to DHS, there's nothing human about it,'" John says. "To think about someone being incompetent, you'd think they don't know what's going on. My grandma knows who she is, she knows who's around her, she knows where she's at and knows she wants to go home. It's disgusting, just disgusting. Basically the law is written so broadly that DHS has a free hand to handle it any way they want."

But Jogerst disagrees. He acknowledges that, "there is no well-researched, valid, reliable screening test for abuse," but when it comes to determining competency "there are tools to evaluate cognitive abilities that case workers are able to implement" that are widely accepted by the medical and legal communities. On the other hand, Jogerst notes, Iowa does have a deficit in expertise when it comes to caseworkers wielding that authority.

As Koll explains, DHS has approximately 200 caseworkers throughout the state working in protective services, handling both child and elder abuse cases. Jogerst, however, says that dual workload could be problematic, as assessing the senior population is distinctly different than identifying child abuse. For instance, "aging changes are occurring in the elder that may be misinterpreted as abuse, or [on the other hand] you may see skin changes and bruises that might be easy to write off as aging changes."

In fact, that difficulty was highlighted in a national study Jogerst helped author in 2003, which found that "states where investigators handle only elder abuse cases had nearly a 50 percent substantiation ratio compared to 34 percent in states where investigators handle both child and elder abuse cases."

"It goes back to expertise," he says. "We can all tell when someone is physically disabled, but you can't just look at someone and know what their cognitive capacity is. That's where caseworkers need much more training and expertise... The people involved in this are very committed, but they're really not given the resources to do the job. The bottom line is, in states where protective workers are responsible for both child and adult abuse cases, can we really train them adequately to do both jobs?"

But while Jogerst is concerned that a lack of expertise results in vulnerable seniors being left in dangerous situations, Wengert is worried about the exact opposite.

"With an elderly person you're always going to have some level of diminished physical ability or mobility or some level of dementia," she says. "My concern is that they have a system that doesn't work well, in my opinion, with the children, and now it's clear to me with this case that they've adopted that same flawed system for the elder abuse cases."

While state officials and family members are at odds about her care, there is one thing they agree upon: Mary Stenlund is adamant and unwavering in her demands to return to her home with Linda Wilson.

According to a report from Chandler filed last week, "Mary repeatedly told me she wanted to go home and live with her daughter, and she was quite agitated for most of our conversation. Mary told me that her daughter is 'all that she has in this world,' and that her daughter is the only person she wants to care for her. She told me her daughter takes good care of her and keeps a very clean house."

Knowing Stenlund's desire to return home, the Wilson family says her placement at Fleur Heights was particularly difficult. Having been enjoined from seeing Stenlund after officials raised concerns about his interference with DHS workers at the hospital and constant video and audio recording of the agency's contact with his grandmother, John says he spent many sleepless nights concerned about her care. Linda, on the other hand, began visiting the facility frequently upon Stenlund's commitment. But that family contact came to a head in early April, with an incident that Des Moines Police Officer Lori Kelly says was "the first of its kind" during her tenure on the DMPD's elder abuse unit.

According to police reports, Stenlund was last seen on April 6 with Linda Wilson at approximately 10 p.m. before the elderly resident's wheelchair was found "abandoned in the lobby." Court documents filed by the DHS worker explain that "due to Mary's level of confusion she would have been unable to 'plan and carry out' simply walking out of the nursing home," and "the police received two calls, first indicating that Mary would be at a gas station and then at a Dairy Queen."

When police arrived, the court report continues, "Linda Wilson was taken to the police station for questioning but immediately refused to answer questions and asked for a lawyer." Although John emphasizes he had nothing to do with the alleged abduction, the police report also notes that Wilson's wife "quietly told [police] that [John] had been repeatedly threatening to kidnap his grandmother." The court record adds that back at the nursing home, "Mary made statements such as 'I walked out on my two feet, I'm not telling you, I have my ways, I'm not telling you my little secrets and I fooled them.'"

Linda says her alleged actions were not a criminal act, but rather a compassionate attempt to heed her mother's wishes. She adds that her calls to police were to file a report regarding concerns that Stenlund was receiving poor treatment at Fleur Heights. "I didn't feel I really did anything wrong," she says. "I was with my mother whose wishes were to come home."

But, in addition to spending the weekend in Polk County Jail, charges of wanton neglect were filed against Linda and an injunction against any further contact with her mother was entered the day after the alleged abduction. Since then, she says she hasn't had any contact with her mother. Described by friends and doctors as "two peas in a pod," Linda says she and her mother have been pained by their inability to celebrate important holidays together - like the anniversary of Linda's brother's death on April 19.

"I couldn't even go and see her on Easter," Linda says tearfully. "That is really cruel. Right's right and wrong's wrong, and this is just wrong."

In addition to controversy surrounding family visits, the family suggests Wengert, the attorney they've retained to advocate for Stenlund, has also been unable to gain access to her client. Jodie Stoker, administrator for Fleur Heights, declined to comment on any aspect of the Stenlund case, but Wengert says that when she first attempted to visit Stenlund she was threatened with arrest by facility staff, was prohibited from bringing the elderly resident to the injunction hearing in late April and, when she returned that day to update Stenlund on the case, she was not allowed to speak with her.

But, again, court documents differ from family reports. According to reports filed last week, Chandler notes that nursing home staff alleged that Wengert "had attempted to take Mary from the nursing home facility" for the court date, and when Chandler asked Stenlund "whether her family members has hired an attorney for her, [Stenlund] said, no, they had not." Officials further suggest that Stenlund has legal representation through Chandler, a guardian ad litem. As Munns explains, the guardian ad litem is "appointed by the court to advocate strictly for the [dependent adult]; not for the state, not for the relatives, only for that person."

But Wengert and the Wilson family say their dealings with the guardian ad litem have been contentious. John says Chandler was unresponsive to his concerns that his grandmother may have been prescribed a medication that could be dangerous due to her other health problems, and Wenger filed a request for contact with Stenlund last week that notes, "counsel finds it odd and offensive for the new GAL [guardian ad litem] to discuss the Ward [Stenlund] in a manner that suggests some kind of contest to be won or lost by the various attorneys."

As such, the family says they are angered at the state's reluctance to allow Stenlund to retain counsel of her or her family's choice and that such denial constitutes a violation of her 6th Amendment rights. But even more concerning, the Wilsons say, is that when a friend stopped by Fleur Heights to drop off some reading materials for Stenlund last week, she was told by staff that Stenlund was no longer a resident at the facility. Fearful for Stenlund's safety, John says the family was never informed that their grandmother would be moved and, after checking area hospitals and nursing homes, he even attempted to file a missing persons report with the DMPD.

According to court documents filed last week, the guardian ad litem suggests that officials had good reason to transfer Stenlund, alleging that "family members had been caught examining Mary's body for a device that might set off an alarm if they tried to take her from the home," and Stenlund was moved "due to the disruption routinely cause by family members." As such, the GAL recommended that "no family member should be allowed to see Mary without approval from DHS or a court-appointed guardian."

But the Wilsons say Stenlund has been "stripped of all her rights" and, due to the injunctions barring her two closest relatives from seeing her, has been left without the comfort of family members in her waning days.

"I do feel they're killing her," Linda says. "Just stop and think, how would you feel if the only family you loved and were close to was ripped away from you? What kind of logic is that?"

The back seat of John Wilson's blue sedan is so packed with poster board, even casual passers-by catch glimpses of signs demanding "Stop DHS Tyranny!"

He may be graduating from Drake University this week with a degree in radio and TV production, but last week John was busy making a public stand for his grandmother who will not see him don his cap and gown. There was one afternoon spent at the state Capitol, talking to legislators and attempting to get authorization to place a flier in every policymaker's mailbox. There was an evening at Gray's Lake, handing out fliers to runners and walkers, who, he says, were largely sympathetic to his message. And there was a busy rush hour spent at the intersection of Sixth and University avenues holding aloft signs with slogans like "Free Grandma Now!"

Munns understands that tempers can flare when the state intervenes in the private lives of its citizens. "People do get emotional in some of these cases," he says, "and some don't approach it rationally when they try to make their case." But, as Koll attests, Iowa has one of the best due process systems in the country when it comes to appealing adult abuse findings, offering the opportunity to contest every sentence in the case reports, take complaints to the DHS director, file claims in court and, in some cases, take their case as far as the Iowa Supreme Court.

"It always blows me away when I'm talking to people from other states who say, 'You mean, you let a person appeal it? What does that mean?'" Koll says. "A lot of states don't allow you to do that. Once your name's on the registry, man, it's there. But in Iowa you can appeal that decision."

Though DHS could not provide a specific number of appeals, Munns estimates, "there's one appeal a week. Compare that to about 300 dependent adult abuse findings a year, and you have an appeal rate of about 16 percent." The Wilsons say, based on DHS reports and actions that they say are based on "belligerent lies," they are in the process of appealing.

But Munns also notes that, "when people are unhappy with us, and there are some, we refer them to the ombudsman." Jeanne Yordi, the long-term care ombudsman at the Iowa Department of Elder Affairs, says the most common claims her office receives are similar to the Wilsons' concerns; that Stenlund being held in a nursing home despite her stated desire to return home, constitutes a violation of her civil rights.

"If you ask 95 percent of the people in nursing homes, they would rather be home," Yordi says. "We hear that a lot. But do they have a home to go to and who makes the decision if it's safe or not at home? Do they have the right to not be safe at home? Yeah, they probably do. But, unfortunately, once they're in the system, there's some protections."

Wengert says that system has failed, not only in the case of Mary Stenlund, but in the cases of other seniors she's represented who felt their rights were trampled by what the state considered to be in their best interests.

"I'm seeing the same flawed system in place," she says. "We have a county attorney that has, from the beginning, set his sights on, 'We know what's best for Mary Stenlund,' and no matter what this family did to try to cooperate with DHS, it was never enough. They got rid of, as they said, 'clutter' around the house. They even have insurance in place that would help to address Mary's needs. They're also looking into any of the in-home services available. But, understand, this system is not an easy one to work through."

Yordi says allegations of DHS overreaching its authority and moving too quickly to direct an adult into protective services do reach her department, but she's confident the systems in place are working to seniors' benefit.

"I have certainly heard that comment, but usually it's because someone has come in and changed their life and you don't like the way your life has been changed," she says. "It doesn't mean DHS wasn't correct in their decision. I don't think they have the time to randomly invent stories. To substantiate claim

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