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By STEPHEN NOHLGREN
© St. Petersburg Times, published October 29, 2000
While caring for his 75-year-old wife, who had suffered strokes, David Cohen quietly slipped into dementia.
Cooking, cleaning and shopping proved overwhelming for the 85-year-old retired butcher. He stuck Post-It notes in his car, to remind himself when to hit the gas and when to brake. Cohen could have hired nursing help -- the couple had plenty of money -- but in his muddled state, he forgot about his investments.
One night last year, Cohen poured gasoline on his bed and threw in a match. Neighbors found him wandering outside, naked, as flames poured from the house. He told the rescue people that his plan had been to jump into the fire, but it got too hot. To protect his wife, Marjorie, he said, he had closed the door to her bedroom. They found her there.
The authorities in Charlotte County treated Cohen like any other criminal. "We have an 85-year-old man that has been charged with murder," is how Sheriff Richard Worch put it. "An 85-year-old can kill someone just as dead as a 14-year-old. Inmates are inmates."
Cohen spent 43 days in jail, during which his lawyers said he developed bed sores and was left untreated for six days after breaking his ribs. They said that a cell was no place for an incontinent man with Alzheimer's, and Cohen's case became a rallying point for advocates for the disabled elderly.
After a doctor finally determined that Cohen needed 24-hour care not available in jail, prosecutors let him move to an assisted living facility. That's where things stood last December when the Times wrote about his case and asked:
What to do about David Cohen?
This is what they have done: Things have evolved to a legal stalemate. The murder charge will forever hang over his head, but he won't go to prison.
A judge ruled that Cohen was incompetent to stand trial. The charges will stay on the books while he continues to live in an assisted living facility that specializes in dementia. They will hold another hearing in a year to see if Cohen, miraculously, has regained enough mental capacity to stand trial.
Everyone knows it's just a formality.
"Unless they come up with a cure to reverse the process, he's only going to get worse from here on out," says prosecutor Martin Stark.
If prosecutors dropped the charges, he says, they would have no control over Cohen's whereabouts. His court-appointed guardian could move him to a private home with little oversight.
"He committed murder. His wife died. He's getting treatment and they are keeping him from being a danger to himself or others," Stark says. "If the charges were dropped, they could release him."
Guardian Susan Vaca says she has no intention of moving Cohen. He is gaining weight and adjusting well. He has little understanding of his legal circumstances.
"That whole scenario is very confusing to him," Vaca says. "He refers to the jail as the firehouse and gets agitated. He talks about being cold there."
Vaca visits three or four times a month, taking along old family albums. Cohen remembers people from old photographs, but less so from more recent photos. He knows that Marjorie died in the fire, but has trouble linking all the circumstances together.
On sunny days, he likes to sit on a patio and study cloud formations.