by JC Hallman, Oklahoma Watch
September 4, 2025

In May, a headline caught the eye of Rena Denton, 96.

Denton was seated in her small, spare cinderblock room in Pauls Valley Health and Rehab, which she shares with her daughter, Karen Koonce, 76. It was a pleasure whenever mother and daughter received the latest edition of the Garvin County News Star.

But that headline, it hit home.

Eldercare Nightmare: A Tragic Family Story Raises the Specter of Widespread Guardianship Fraud.

“Well, it was a repeat of what we’ve lived out,” Denton said.

Not exactly, but the story of Rena Denton in Pauls Valley, and the story of Estelle Simonton in Harrah, suggest inadequacy in Oklahoma eldercare law in scale, implementation and awareness of existing statutes as the state’s aging population surges toward a crisis point.

A Nightmare All Their Own

After Denton finished reading the story about quadriplegic Vietnam vet Leroy Theodore, who was taken from his family in April and installed in a nursing home in Midwest City, she called Kive Kerr, who has been helping Denton and Koonce navigate a guardianship nightmare all their own. Kerr contacted Oklahoma Watch, which originally published Theodore’s story, and a visit to mother and daughter was arranged.

“I go over it and over it in my mind: why did he do this to me?” Denton said. “Why did he take everything I had?”

She meant Billy LeMay, a one-time family friend and former Halliburton executive who now operates a lawnmower repair store in Pauls Valley. Before March, Denton had lived in the same house since 1949, but there came a moment, she said, when she was unable to care for her daughter, who had begun to show signs of dementia. Koonce, in turn, was unable to care for her mother.

They turned to LeMay for help.

From there, versions of the story differ.

Kerr said LeMay got a doctor to sign papers saying the mother and daughter couldn’t care for themselves; he took their phones and hired a lawyer to draw up wills and secure power of attorney to take control of about $1 million in assets, Kerr said.

Kerr also said LeMay falsely told the women that their only living blood relatives, a pair of nieces in Georgia, did not want to hear from them; the lie was revealed when Denton got her phone back and called Kerr, he said.

It took months and vast resources to head off a legal assault that came close to robbing Denton of everything; even obtaining transcripts of legal proceedings in which an Adult Protective Services investigator accused LeMay of criminal behavior has been a slog, Kerr said.

For his part, LeMay claimed that staff at Norman Regional Hospital encouraged him to obtain guardianship over Denton and Koonce; the hospital provided him with instructions on how to do so, LeMay said. He said the APS investigator lied about him in court and that his role in the saga was about love, not money.

“I have not profited a nickel from this thing,” LeMay said.

Now, Denton’s nieces have been awarded guardianship.

The Most Fundamental Problem

Kerr claimed that in addition to the conflict with LeMay, the administrator at Denton’s nursing home also offered to become Denton’s guardian, an accusation the administrator denied.

Title 63, Oklahoma’s public health and safety laws, and Title 30, which governs guardianships, both specify that no court-appointed guardian can also be the owner or administrator of the nursing home in which a ward is housed unless the guardian is the spouse or close relative of the ward.

But ignorance of the law is the root of the guardianship problem.

William Whited, a former investigator with APS in the Oklahoma Department of Human Services, is now the state’s long-term care ombudsman, a role that was integrated into the Office of the Attorney General in 2024 to enhance the ability to investigate complaints and advocate for residents’ rights in nursing homes and assisted living facilities.

For Whited, this facet of Denton’s story involving the administrator was characteristic of a broader trend in Oklahoma eldercare law: the nuances of existing laws were not widely understood.

Whited had additional concerns. Oklahoma’s aging population loomed as a logistical crisis that would emerge as the number of guardianship proceedings rose.

“I know that this taxes the system,” Whited said. “It’s one of those things where maybe not everything that should be reviewed is reviewed. And I don’t know the answer to that.”

The human capital aspect of the problem had already arrived.

“There’s not enough judges to read all the reports,” Whited said. “There is not an entity or system that is set up to review those guardianships.”

The most fundamental problem of all was ignorance; staff members at hospitals, nursing homes and APS and DHS appeared to be unfamiliar with relevant statutes.

“I don’t think that they all do know the laws,” Whited said.

This Guy Cares About His Mother

“Basically, they kidnapped her,” Rep. Justin “J.J.” Humphrey, R-Lane, said of APS, in the case of Estelle Simonton, 91.

Humphrey’s interest in DHS had more to do with Child Protective Services than APS, but his office had received several complaints about guardianships, including one from Matthew Simonton, the son of Estelle Simonton.

“Lord knows, it’s been a lot of trouble for him,” Humphrey said. “The guy cares about his mother, that’s how it appears to me.”

Oklahoma law requires judges to seal guardianship cases, with only the existence of a guardianship not considered confidential. Everything else is available only to the parties involved and the judge.

Cases such as Simonton’s demonstrated the need for greater transparency in government, Humphrey said.

“When you find something like this case, and they’re not going to talk to you because it’s confidential, then how can we correct it when it’s wrong?” Humphrey said. “If they can hide everything because it’s all confidential, then who can hold them accountable?”

DHS has refused to comment on all of Oklahoma Watch’s reporting on guardianship abuse. In the case of Estelle Simonton, DHS Public Information Officer Carrie Snodgrass offered to provide a statement or arrange an interview, but only if Oklahoma Watch provided questions in advance.

Did Not Meet the Criteria

Estelle Simonton’s problems began as far back as 2003, when she became a widow.

Always a collector, Simonton’s Del City house became cluttered and more difficult to manage as she grew older, her son, Matthew Simonton, admitted. Her diabetes didn’t help, and manifested in her behavior if she didn’t eat properly.

She became friendly with her neighbors. Oklahoma Watch spoke to one neighbor who recalled Estelle Simonton’s frequent, amenable visits; another remembered a friendly, independent woman who bothered no one.

Nevertheless, someone started calling APS. Matthew Simonton said that he suspects another neighbor, but he doesn’t know for sure.

Matthew Simonton was granted durable power of attorney for his mother, limited to health care powers, in March 2023.

Relations with DHS grew strained. Matthew Simonton recorded video interviews in which Estelle Simonton related harrowing details of what she endured while in the care of others; he uploaded them to YouTube, only to have a judge order that they be removed from public view.

In June 2024, Matthew Simonton said, a confrontational ambulance call presaged another report to APS. DHS again visited Estelle Simonton’s home, alongside members of the Del City police department.

A subsequent DHS petition for an involuntary emergency protective order claimed that the home was found to be filthy, lacked air conditioning, and reeked of urine.

However, a police report on a welfare check at Estelle Simonton’s home a few days later concluded that her living conditions did not meet the criteria for an emergency order of detention.

Nevertheless, the following day, DHS conducted what Matthew Simonton characterized as a raid on his own home when his mother was visiting. After a tense confrontation, Estelle Simonton was taken to Wolfe Living Center at Summit Ridge in Harrah, where she has remained ever since.

A Dramatic Confrontation

Oklahoma Watch’s May story about Leroy Theodore documented a dramatic confrontation as nursing home staff in Midwest City called police in an attempt to prevent Theodore’s family from visiting him. The staff were unaware of a 2015 Attorney General opinion that expressly stated that legal guardians — APS or otherwise — were not empowered to restrict visitation with nursing home residents without a specific court order.

Midwest City police officers listened to all parties involved before overruling the nursing home staff and permitting a visit. On Father’s Day, Theodore’s family once again drove two and a half hours to visit him.

In early August, Oklahoma Watch learned that Theodore died while still under an APS guardianship. Theodore’s family members said they were not directly notified of his death; one of Theodore’s daughters learned of her father’s passing in a phone call with a reporter.

Nearly a month later, calls placed to APS, the hospital where Theodore died and the morgue where his remains are being held revealed that arrangements to return him to his family have not been made. Once again, a lack of familiarity with what the law provides when an individual dies under guardianship appears to have hobbled the effort to provide dignity and peace for the remains of a military veteran. 

Theodore’s remains continue to be held in a legal and logistical limbo.

I Should Have Some Rights

On August 4, the confrontation in Midwest City repeated almost exactly in Harrah when Oklahoma Watch accompanied Matthew Simonton as he attempted to visit his mother, Estelle Simonton.

Once again, nursing home staff appeared unaware of the 2015 attorney general’s opinion; manager David Carey claimed he was following instructions from APS, and called the Oklahoma County Sheriff’s Office in an attempt to restrict access.

Deputy sheriffs arrived, listened to all parties involved, and, as Del City police officers had done, facilitated a visit despite objections from highly agitated Wolfe Living Center staff members.

Estelle Simonton was palpably elated to see her son, clutching at his arm as though hanging from the edge of a cliff.

“I just want to go home,” Estelle Simonton said. “Do you understand my feelings? I don’t want anything from them. I just want my freedom.”

Throughout a prolonged visit, Estelle Simonton spoke in lengthy, complex sentences, demonstrating comprehensive awareness of her surroundings. She was uncertain of her age, but described vivid memories from more than eight decades previous. She recalled the circumstances in which she had been living when APS secured guardianship.

“I wasn’t crying and going on,” Estelle Simonton said. “I was taking care of my little dog, and we had some chickens. I was happy to take care of the place. I don’t know why they took me out of my house. I don’t know.”

Estelle Simonton understood both her limitations and what she believed her rights should be.

“If I have to, I’ll run away from here,” she said. “I don’t know exactly what I’ll do, but I should have some rights as an American citizen. It’s the law that is taking me away from my family, who I dearly love and haven’t seen in a while. It’s not right. It should be changed.”

It’s All We’ve Got Left

William Whited offered details on a pair of projects already on the books that could mitigate Oklahoma’s looming guardianship crisis.

Court-Appointed Advocates for Vulnerable Adults, detailed in Title 30, and the Office of Public Guardianship, part of DHS, offered promise, but neither was properly funded, Whited said.

CAAVA folded because no state appropriations were dedicated to it, Whited said; the Office of Public Guardianship was used only limitedly, yet in addition to eldercare, it applied to younger people with severe mental illness or profound physical disability.

Estelle Simonton did not complain about the care she was receiving at Wolfe Living Center. It’s a good place to be if you have to be taken care of, and the home didn’t do anything she believed to be illegal, she said. But she was angry that they were keeping her away from her son.

Rena Denton did not complain about the care she and her daughter were receiving at Pauls Valley Health and Rehab either.

“It’s peaceful here, they are good to us,” Denton said. “It’s our home now. It’s all we’ve got left.”

Denton had that, alongside the wisdom conferred by a life of experience.

“Beware of somebody coming and telling you that they’re going to take care of you and be your guardian,” Denton said. “Steer clear.”

Ed. Note: This story was updated on Sept. 4, 2025 to clarify WIlliam Whited’s work history.

This article first appeared on Oklahoma Watch and is republished here under a Creative Commons Attribution-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.

The post Oklahoma Unprepared for Looming Guardianship Crisis appeared first on oklahomawatch.org

Oklahoma Watch, at oklahomawatch.org, is a nonprofit, nonpartisan news organization that covers public-policy issues facing the state.

Note: The following A.I. based commentary is not part of the original article, reproduced above, but is offered in the hopes that it will promote greater media literacy and critical thinking, by making any potential bias more visible to the reader –Staff Editor.

Political Bias Rating: Center-Left

This content focuses on exposing issues within eldercare and guardianship systems, highlighting failures in government oversight and advocating for greater transparency and accountability. The emphasis on protecting vulnerable populations and critiquing bureaucratic shortcomings aligns with a Center-Left perspective that supports social justice and reform while maintaining a balanced, fact-based approach without strong partisan rhetoric.

SUMMARY: An Oklahoma family is suing Roblox, accusing the popular gaming platform of failing to protect children from predators. The suit centers on a 12-year-old girl allegedly groomed and sexually extorted by a man posing as a 15-year-old boy. According to court documents, the predator coerced the girl into sending explicit photos, threatened to kill her family, and manipulated her using Roblox’s digital currency. The family claims Roblox is a “hunting ground for child predators” and profits from these dangers. Roblox states it has safeguards and recently announced plans to better detect risks. The lawsuit does not specify damages sought.

Family sues Roblox, accusing them of failing to protect kids from predators

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Source

More than 8,500 state employees are working remotely at least some of the time, with the arrangement mostly from a lack of space at agencies. 

The Office of Management and Enterprise Services compiled the latest numbers after a December executive order issued by Gov. Kevin Stitt mandating a return to the office for state employees. 

The Oklahoma Corporation Commission and the Department of Environmental Quality went in opposite directions on remote work in the second quarter report. Just 12% of employees at the Corporation Commission were on remote work in the first quarter. That jumped to 59% in the second quarter. The agency has relocated as its longtime office, the Jim Thorpe Building, undergoes renovations. 

Brandy Wreath, director of administration for the Corporation Commission, said the agency has a handful of experienced employees in its public utility division who work out of state and were hired on a telework basis. Some other employees are working remotely because of doctor’s orders limiting their interactions. The agency got rid of space and offices in the Jim Thorpe Building before the renovations started. The building project is expected to be completed in the next six months. 

“At Jim Thorpe, we were right-sized for everyone to be in the office,” Wreath said. “Whenever we moved to Will Rogers, we are in temporary space, and we don’t have enough space for everyone to be in every day.” 

Wreath said the Corporation Commission uses the state’s Workday system that has codes for employees to use when they are logged in and working remotely. Employees also know they are subject to random activity audits. 

“We’re supportive of the idea of having employees in the workplace and willing to serve,” Wreath said. “We also realize the value of having employees in rural Oklahoma and still being a part of the state structure. Our goal is to make sure our employees are productive, no matter where they are working. We are supportive of return-to-office, and we are utilizing the tools OMES has given us to ensure the state is getting its money’s worth.” 

The Department of Environmental Quality now has just 1% of its employees working remotely. That’s down from 30% in the first quarter. Spokeswoman Erin Hatfield said the agency, with 527 employees, is in full compliance with the executive order. Seven employees are on telework, with all but one on temporary telework status as they recover from medical issues.  

There are three exceptions to the return-to-office policy: employees whose hours are outside normal business hours; employees who already work in the field; and when new or additional office space would have to be acquired at additional cost. 

The Department of Human Services continued to have more than 80% of its 6,060 employees on some type of telework, according to the second quarter report. The agency said those numbers stemmed mostly from a lack of available office space. DHS closed dozens of county offices or found other agency office space for its employees to use in the first years of the COVID-19 pandemic, when there was a huge shift to remote work.  

The latest telework report covers 29,250 of the state’s 31,797 employees. About 30% of employees were on some version of telework in the second quarter. Dozens of agencies did not submit quarterly reports to the Office of Management and Enterprise Services.

Paul Monies has been a reporter with Oklahoma Watch since 2017 and covers state agencies and public health. Contact him at (571) 319-3289 or pmonies@oklahomawatch.org. Follow him on Twitter @pmonies. 

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The post Thousands of State Employees Still Working Remotely appeared first on oklahomawatch.org

Oklahoma Watch, at oklahomawatch.org, is a nonprofit, nonpartisan news organization that covers public-policy issues facing the state.

Note: The following A.I. based commentary is not part of the original article, reproduced above, but is offered in the hopes that it will promote greater media literacy and critical thinking, by making any potential bias more visible to the reader –Staff Editor.

Political Bias Rating: Centrist

This content provides a fact-based report on the remote work status of Oklahoma state employees following an executive order from Governor Kevin Stitt. It presents information from multiple state agencies with no apparent favor or criticism of the executive order or political figures involved. The tone is neutral and focuses on the practical reasons and outcomes of remote work policies, reflecting a balanced approach without clear ideological leanings.