The elderly man, nearly 90, needed assistance as he hobbled into the courtroom, his walker in front of him, an adult grandson behind him, gently clutching the grandfather's arm to provide support.

As the thin, white-haired man made his way to a center table, his adult daughter watched from one side, tears streaming down her check. Looking directly at her father, she mouthed the words "I love you," several times, then proceeded to the business at hand.

She accused him of mental incompetence.

Through her attorney, the woman asked the judge to appoint someone to take control of her father's assets. She claimed he wasn't competent to manage his own affairs because of his advanced age and the onset of Alzheimer's disease. She also suggested that the grandson might be after those assets and asked the court to freeze them. A sister joined in her request to have a conservator appointed.

As the woman's attorney concluded his presentation, the elder man, fidgeting in his chair, whispered something to his lawyer, who had to bend down to hear him. She told the judge that her client believes he is perfectly able to manage his affairs and that his two daughters were motivated by greed.

"He feels strongly that his daughters want his money," the lawyer said, shortly before the court ordered her client to undergo a competency examination.

This was the scene on a recent Friday morning in a fourth-floor courtroom along Punchbowl Street, where state Judge Colleen Hirai, during weekly probate sessions, sometimes oversees complicated disputes in which family members accuse each other of financial exploitation. The cases are private dramas that play in a public forum, often in heart-wrenching detail.

"There's a novel going through there every week," said attorney Carroll Taylor.

The plots in such disputes often have complicated story lines that reflect a common belief among elder advocates: Exploitation cases involving family members are among the hardest to prove — and among the most common to occur.

Senior advocates see time and again how the elderly put their trust in those close to them only to find their money and sometimes their homes stolen away.

At the Honolulu Gerontology Program's REACH service, which assists elders in abusive situations, 90 percent to 95 percent of its cases typically involve a family member as the suspected abuser, said Tony Wong, the program's administrator.

In the majority of exploitation cases investigated by Adult Protective Services, the suspects are relatives, often adult sons or daughters who take over an elder parent's finances, according to David Tanaka, supervisor for APS on O'ahu. In each of the past four years, more than half of the financial exploitation investigations conducted by the agency involved a relative as a suspect, APS data show.

HARD TO PROVE

Many of the abuse allegations APS receives, however, are not confirmed. Not only do the usual challenges apply, such as the victim may not make a reliable witness because of memory problems, but cases involving relatives bring complicated — and potentially volatile — family relationships into play. The abused senior often is subtly manipulated in the privacy of the family home, making it easier to mask an intent to defraud.

"It's a very hidden type of crime," said Colette Browne, professor at the University of Hawai'i School of Social Work.

The difficulty of sorting through such subtleties often arises when family members question the acts of another member.

When an elder parent gives an adult son or daughter large sums of cash, for instance, is that a genuine gesture of love and support or the result of manipulation and deceit?

If the senior is wrestling with dementia, straddling that murky area between competence and incompetence, the question becomes even harder to answer.

"When does a gift become a crime?" asked Gary Senaga, a deputy attorney general who has successfully prosecuted financial exploitation cases. "That's when it gets touchy."

The difficulty especially arises in cases involving seniors who are lucid one day, totally forgetful the next, Senaga said. Prosecutors must prove exploitation while countering the argument that the senior knew exactly what he or she was doing at the time the gift was given, he said.

The temptation to steal from an elder relative has intensified in today's economic climate, experts say.

Many older adults own their homes, which have soared in value over the years, and many have savings accounts and other assets accumulated over a lifetime of work.

Some of their adult sons and daughters, on the other hand, fall on the other end of the financial spectrum. They don't own their homes or, even if they do, may be struggling to cope with mortgage payments and Hawai'i's high cost of living. Some believe they are entitled to share in their parents' wealth — now.

If an adult son or daughter is a caregiver for one or both parents, a job that often is demanding and tedious, the feeling of entitlement may intensify, experts say.

There can be another factor as well.

Family members desperate for cash realize that stealing from an elderly relative probably is much less risky than committing other crimes. They figure that even if they get caught, the chances of getting turned in are slim, said John G. McDermott, the state's long-term care ombudsman.

"Why rob a bank when you can rob grandma and you don't have to worry about anyone chasing after you with a gun?" he said.

STEAL FROM MOTHER

Robert Hayes was caring for his cancer-stricken mother, Carole Hayes, 65, when he stole more than $500,000 from her in late 2001 and 2002.

After he got caught, Hayes told police that the stress of a divorce and caring for his mother was overwhelming, contributing to his heavy alcohol and drug use, police records show. He said he took advantage of the situation by forging his mother's signature on her checks, according to the documents.

Hayes in 2003 pleaded guilty to theft, forgery and money-laundering charges. He was sentenced to six months in jail and five years' probation and ordered to pay $558,000 in restitution.

He declined comment for this story.

As family cases go, the Hayes prosecution was relatively straightforward. His mother initially discovered the theft, she told police she didn't give her son permission to take the money, and investigators were able to compile strong evidence against him, the records show.

But that is not always the case.

The guardianship dispute over Edith Carlsmith, 99, matriarch of the family that founded Hawai'i's oldest law firm, shows just how difficult family cases can get.

Carlsmith's granddaughter, Cynthia Carlsmith-Crespi, in October 2003 filed court papers to try to prevent her father, Duane Carlsmith (the son of Edith Carlsmith), from taking the elder woman to Panama, where he lives. Carlsmith-Crespi also sought to have a guardian appointed for her grandmother, the widow of Wendell Carlsmith, the late senior partner in the law firm now known as Carlsmith Ball.

Carlsmith-Crespi, 44, said she believes her father wanted to isolate her grandmother, who was frail, blind and partially deaf, so he could gain access to her wealth. Carlsmith-Crespi, a former Big Island resident who now lives in California, waived any claim to her grandmother's estate, estimated at the time to be worth millions.

Honolulu attorney Stuart Cowan, who represents Duane Carlsmith, denied that his client was trying to financially exploit his mother. "That's a bunch of malarkey," Cowan said.

A Family Court judge in late 2003 ordered the elder Carlsmith to remain in the United States and to undergo a medical examination to determine whether she was mentally competent. The judge issued the order after a confused Carlsmith, who had suffered a stroke earlier that year, couldn't correctly answer some basic questions at a court hearing, such as which state she was in and how she was related to another granddaughter, court records show.

Despite the court order, Duane Carlsmith took his mother to Panama in November 2003, saying she wanted to live her remaining years there with him, the records say. He also said in court documents that his mother's doctors believed a trip back to Hawai'i could be fatal for her because of her fragile health.

Judge Karen Radius in December 2003 found Edith and Duane Carlsmith in contempt of court, issued an arrest warrant for the son and fined him $10,000 for each day he failed to return his mother to Hawai'i. As of January, that fine totaled $7.5 million, according to court documents.

In a June 2005 ruling, Judge Radius noted that Duane Carlsmith had failed to comply with the court order for a competency exam for his mother and said the matter would be referred to prosecutors for criminal contempt or other action.

Cowan said he and his client believe the order was based on faulty evidence and have appealed it to the state Supreme Court. The appeal is pending. Edith Carlsmith is "not interested in having her competency challenged ... What the court did was take away the most important right she has — the right to be left alone," Cowan said.

Carlsmith-Crespi criticized the judicial system's handling of the case, noting that the competency exam — ordered more than two years ago — still hasn't been performed and that the court-appointed temporary guardian for her grandmother has not spoken to the elder woman since she was taken to Panama. Because her father is screening calls and visitors for her grandmother, Carlsmith-Crespi said, the court can't even say with any certainty that the elder woman still is alive. Cowan said she is, noting that he talked to someone who saw or spoke to her as recently as last week.

"Will the legal system in Hawai'i come through for justice?" Carlsmith-Crespi asked. "I can't say that it will. So far, it hasn't. And the longer this takes, the more ludicrous it becomes, the more suspicious it becomes."

Carlsmith-Crespi has been so frustrated by the inaction that she has contacted the FBI, the attorney general's office, even bounty hunter Duane "Dog" Chapman, looking for advice or help. Nothing has panned out thus far.

WHO'S IN CONTROL

Another area where family abuse issues can get murky is with powers of attorney, which are used to give someone the legal authority to make decisions or conduct transactions on behalf of the person issuing the document.

Deputy prosecuting attorney Chris Van Marter said elderly people sometimes give powers of attorney to relatives that are broad in scope, and the person or agent given that authority, often an adult son or daughter, uses the parent's money to pay for such things as school tuition for the son's or daughter's child.

Prosecutors must show not only that the relatives exceeded the scope of their authority, but that they exerted control with the intent to permanently deprive the victims of their property, Van Marter said. If only the first point can be proven, it is a civil matter, he said.

At a Big Island conference on elder financial fraud in April, APS specialist Fe Hoota referred to a case involving a man with power of attorney for his elder mother, who was in a nursing home. The son failed to pay his mother's nursing home bills, which grew to $16,000 within a few months, and then left for the Philippines, transferring $150,000 from her account, Hoota said. The elder woman, who suffered from dementia, told authorities she didn't remember giving her son permission to take the money.

A power-of-attorney document also came in to play in the case of Ligaya (Joy) Dela Cruz, who in 2003 and 2004 stole thousands of dollars from a 60-year-old 'Aiea man who suffered a severe stroke.

Although Dela Cruz wasn't a family member, she was Manuel Calizo's girlfriend and housemate when he suffered the stroke and exploited that close relationship to take advantage of him, according to his caregiver, Jojo Domingo.

While Calizo spent months in a hospital recovering, Dela Cruz, a convicted felon who was on probation at the time, obtained a fraudulent power of attorney from him — his doctors said he was incapacitated at the time — and used it to withdraw money from his bank account, according to court documents and interviews.

Dela Cruz also collected rent from other tenants in the home, falsely claiming to be the landlord, the records show.

Investigators were able to document about $13,000 in lost rent and bank withdrawals, according to Senaga, the deputy attorney general who prosecuted the case.

Dela Cruz was convicted of multiple counts of theft and forgery last year. She has not been sentenced. Her prior conviction was for felony theft.

Dela Cruz's attorney declined comment. But in one court document, she disputed the state's position that the power of attorney from Calizo was improperly obtained.

Domingo said Calizo still is depressed over being betrayed by Dela Cruz. "She cheated him of his money," Domingo said. "It made me so angry."

Calizo, who has partially recovered from the stroke, told The Advertiser he wants to see Dela Cruz jailed. "I'm mad," he said. "I want to punish her."

Senior advocates say the elderly need to be careful before signing any documents that pass control of their finances to others, even family members.

Marilyn Seeley, former director of the state Executive Office on Aging, who now does consulting work, goes so far as to recommend that seniors don't turn over their financial assets to family members, however well meaning those members are. "It's tantamount to losing control over your life," she said.

Such transfers create the potential for family conflict and have a lasting effect on the senior, Seeley said. Instead, seniors can seek out reputable daily financial management services (see box) if they need help.

Reach Rob Perez at rperez@honoluluadvertiser.com.