Tragic death unnoticed in TCHC building

Senator and former Toronto mayor Art Eggleton is looking into the management structure and the governance of the Toronto Community Housing Corporation. That’s good. I’m glad. But he should know this: I had a call the other day from a woman I’ll call Jill. She told me that her cousin Liz died last month. Liz was a tenant of community housing, on Lawrence Ave. E. near Kingston Rd.

Liz died of a heart attack. It took two weeks for anyone to notice. It took another two weeks for the family to find out, and here’s how that happened: Jill’s mother got a call from the property manager asking her when she was going to come over and clear the apartment. I’m not kidding. Liz lived alone. She didn’t see her relatives often. She had schizophrenia. And yes, I know — people who live alone tend to die alone.

But where is the “community” in community housing when a person — a neighbour, a friend, a tenant — can die and not be missed for two full weeks, and when it takes two more weeks for the family to find out?

Mr. Eggleton, this is the end product of the management and governance you are looking at. I make that assertion with some confidence, because managers have said for years that TCHC is just a landlord. Just a landlord, when thousands of tenants live with disabilities, in misery both physical and mental? Sorry, not good enough. Jill asked me to meet in front of the building where her cousin lived. She wanted me to see the apartment. I began by asking her to tell me a bit about Liz, and she began by asking me if I’d brought a haz-mat suit. I braced myself.

Jill showed me a picture of Liz in grade school — toothy grin, pageboy hair — and then a picture of Liz as an adult — a handsome woman who seemed to be looking at the world the way most of us do, with a slightly puzzled expression.

Jill said, “She was an only child. She was very bright. The schizophrenia started when she was in her early 20s.

“She couldn’t work because of her illness, but she went to school. She was a library technician years ago; she’d update her education now and then.”

Jill said, “She’d had a tumultuous relationship with her mother. When she was off her meds, she could be violent. One time, her mother had to call the police. It took five men to hold her down.” Yikes. “I saw her last at her mother’s funeral. She looked good — a bit off the wall, that’s to be expected — but she was cleaned up, neatly dressed.”

And then Jill took me up to the apartment, and this is what Mr. Eggleton should see, and this is what the board of TCHC should look at when they say that the company is just a landlord: The apartment smelled of death. The bed was a mess and did not appear to have been used for sleeping because it was black with bedbug feces.

There was dirty clothing scattered all over the floors, and there were dirty cups and dishes here and there, and the place had not been cleaned in months; that is a tangible sign of illness.

The bathroom was a mess. The toilet was inexplicably dry.

There were bugs of all kinds everywhere. Jill suggested that I look behind the armchair in the living room.

I had to step over and around mounds of buggy litter to get to it, and when I looked behind the armchair I saw so many bedbugs that it made me sick.

Families are not trained to deal with issues so complex.

TCHC says with some defensive pride that it relies on community services for its vulnerable tenants. TCHC says Liz refused treatment for bedbugs.

TCHC says it helped arrange social supports. Great job, guys. What do you think, Mr. Eggleton? Is TCHC “just a landlord” when it rents accommodation to tenants who cannot care for themselves? What would you have done if Liz had been renting a room from you?

Governance, indeed. Joe Fiorito appears Monday, Wednesday and Friday. jfiorito@thestar.ca