Augusta Man's Daughter Questions State's Response After He Loses Toe to Infection

Christiana Lauzon made 25 phone calls to Maine's Adult Protective Services in December 2025, desperate to get help for her father. What she received instead was a case closed notification and a wall of silence.

Her father, 59-year-old Mark Lauzon of Augusta, lost his big toe after an infection spread to his bones. The amputation came after weeks of deterioration that his daughter believes could have been prevented with swifter intervention from the state agency charged with protecting vulnerable adults.

"He was supposed to be my friends," Mark Lauzon said recently from his new home in Massachusetts. "They didn't do the job, basically. They were actually being paid to take care of me, and I ended up losing my big toe."

Christiana Lauzon, who now serves as her father's legal guardian, learned only through doctors that state investigators had been contacted about Mark's care. She said she received no notification from Adult Protective Services, known as APS, despite her repeated attempts to reach the agency during the critical period when her father's condition was worsening.

"It doesn't feel like it mattered at all," she said.

The case highlights what some families describe as a frustrating lack of communication from the agency responsible for investigating reports of abuse, neglect, and exploitation of dependent adults. APS receives no legal requirement to share findings with those who submit reports, and records requests can be denied without explanation.

A Father's Decline

Mark Lauzon has schizoaffective disorder and has experienced symptoms from multiple strokes. He is largely estranged from much of his family and prefers solitude, his daughter explained. After his partner died in 2023, he relied on a neighbor and the neighbor's wife for help with meals, cleaning, transportation to medical appointments, and medication management.

The arrangement seemed to work. Mark paid the couple for approximately 12 hours of care each week.

Then his health began to fail.

On December 3, 2025, Mark arrived at a medical appointment with visible feces on his sweatpants, according to his medical records. His doctors contacted Adult Protective Services. Christiana, who lives in Massachusetts and had not seen her father in two years, did not yet know anything was wrong.

Sixteen days later, Mark was taken by ambulance to the emergency room at MaineGeneral Medical Center in Augusta. A cut on his big toe had become severely infected.

Christiana finally drove to Augusta on December 20 after days without hearing from her father. She found him at the hospital, but what she glimpsed through the windows of his trailer left her horrified. Rat feces covered his bed, where he spent most of his time. Water from the sink had flooded the counters.

Anybody with these conditions would get an infection, she thought.

Mark's toe was amputated on December 26. The infection had spread to his bones.

"This Is a Courtesy Call"

Christiana began calling Adult Protective Services in December, hoping to understand what the agency was doing to protect her father. Her call logs show 25 attempts that month.

When she finally reached someone on December 30, the case manager told her there was no concrete evidence of abuse. She received no details about any site visit or investigation findings.

On February 10, 2026, a caseworker called to say the case was closed. He did not indicate whether APS had substantiated abuse, neglect, or exploitation.

"He said, 'This is a courtesy call. I'm just doing my job,'" Christiana recalled. "I said, 'You didn't.'"

The agency later confirmed that people who submit reports are not told the outcome, only that a case was closed. If abuse or neglect is substantiated, letters go to both the victim and the alleged perpetrator—not to the family members who reported concerns.

Christiana never saw a substantiation letter, which suggested to her that the state closed her father's case without finding any wrongdoing.

Records Denied

As Mark's legal guardian, Christiana sought the investigation records herself. She had obtained emergency guardianship after his hospitalization to make medical decisions on his behalf and faced competing guardianship claims from his caregivers in court. In January 2026, the Kennebec County Probate Court appointed her full guardianship.

"Mr. Lauzon suffered serious physical harm because he was unable to care for himself," the court order stated. "His cognitive decline and physical disability put him in grave danger of exploitation."

When Christiana requested the APS records in March, she received a brief notice: the department would not exercise its option to disclose records to her at this time. No explanation accompanied the denial.

The Maine Department of Health and Human Services, which oversees APS, declined to comment on the specific case but said the agency takes reports seriously and conducts onsite assessments when investigations are opened.

APS officials said neither guardianship status nor family relationship automatically entitles others to information about an investigation. Every request is evaluated individually, with factors including whether the alleged perpetrator is a family member, whether the victim wants records disclosed, and whether an investigation remains ongoing.

A retired attorney serving as a court-appointed visitor reviewed Christiana's guardianship petition. In a report to Kennebec County Probate Court, the visitor described Mark's case as "another example of people reaching out to APS for assistance and intervention without adequate response."

The visitor's conclusion was stark: if investigators had visited Mark's trailer and found safe conditions, it would suggest either incompetence or deliberate indifference. "It is not unreasonable to conclude that had a full investigation been conducted," the visitor wrote, "the infection in Mark's toe would not have progressed to the stage where amputation was required."

"I Really Thought I Was Going to Die There"

As doctors adjusted Mark's medications, he became more lucid and began recalling details of his care. He remembered not being fed properly—sometimes just chips and soda. He lost approximately 150 pounds. He did not recall getting help with bathing. He believed his caregivers were giving him all his medications at once instead of spaced throughout the day, as prescribed.

"I want someone to know what those people did," he said. "I want people to know that these people were not nice to me. It takes a lot for me to actually even say that because they were really good friends for a long time."

In June, his feelings had hardened. "I really think that they should be held accountable for what they did," he said. "They were fully capable of taking care of me, and they didn't do that. They really hurt me."

Mark now lives in a long-term care facility in Massachusetts, about 15 minutes from Christiana's home. He said he is happy, making friends, and reconnecting with family. His daughter said he plans to request his APS records himself, though he can only do so now because his cognitive function has improved.

But both father and daughter struggle to trust caregivers.

"I really thought I was going to die there," Mark said.

A Systemic Problem?

Christiana Lauzon is not alone in her frustration.

Aimee Dunn of Lincolnville called APS multiple times in 2023 because she worried her stepfather, Fritz Trisdale, could no longer live safely alone. Trisdale had memory issues and sometimes left the kettle on until it scorched or placed flammable items near heaters. Dunn lived next door and often checked on him at night.

"I always expected to see flames," she said.

An APS worker visited and explained the agency could do little because family members were still assisting Trisdale, Dunn recalled. On June 19, 2023, APS told Trisdale's wife the investigation was closing. Five days later, Trisdale died in a house fire.

"It makes you think that maybe their life didn't matter or it's not worth looking into further," Dunn said.

Dunn later requested APS records. The agency apologized for overlooking her initial request and then asked six additional questions about power of attorney and her reasons for wanting the records. The denial letter was dated a day before she responded. The language matched what Christiana Lauzon received: the department would not elect to disclose records at this time.

"They had already determined that they weren't going to tell me anything, no matter what my answers were," Dunn said.

Demand Rising, Answers Scarce

APS calls have nearly doubled in seven years, from approximately 9,900 in 2019 to 18,500 last year. Associate Director Gina Googins attributed the increase to heightened awareness of reportable incidents.

The agency must balance privacy protections for dependent adults against families' desire for information, Googins said. Under Maine law, APS records are subject to limited disclosure because adults retain privacy rights even when dependent.

Mary Lou Ciolfi, assistant director of policy and education at the University of Maine Center on Aging, said releasing records to family members can raise complex questions about older adults' autonomy. When families request investigation reports, they may be invading their loved ones' privacy and right to determine what information is shared.

But Ciolfi also acknowledged the other side of that tension.

"Every single request is different and has its own factors that are in play," Googins said. "It's so broad. It really depends on the situation."

For Christiana Lauzon, the explanation rings hollow. She argues APS used her contested guardianship as an excuse to deny her records request. Her father, she said, wants the records released.

"My dad is what APS is supposed to protect," Christiana said. "What are they actually doing? Are they actually visiting these people? Are they just saying they do? And I know that sounds terrible, but the experience I had was so disheartening. Every time I talked to someone, it was just dead ends."