Man and woman funck backber six

on Saturday, February 27, 2016, the Waynesville Police Department received a phone call from the facility. Sergeant Dee Parton was quickly dispatched to the nursing home just around the corner from the new police station downtown. When Shalda spoke to Robertson about the same accusation the next day, Robertson allegedly said again she would "handle it" and that "they needed to keep everyone out of the issue." But Shalda knew the aide had been accused of something similar before.

The nurse, 35-year-old Krista Shalda, greeted Parton and told her a current female resident claimed a male nursing aide had assaulted her on Thursday night. She was not going to stand by and let Robertson keep it quiet. She told the sergeant about previous incidents, accusations made against this man by both a patient and a staff member. The 53-year-old resident was "sitting on the side of her bed," according to Parton's report, "with her oxygen on." And she was crying.

It was the late 1990s, and a construction job building racks for warehouses had brought Gomez to Waynesville.

Soon he learned of another opportunity: a program at the community college that would help him become a certified nursing assistant, or CNA.

Discharged after a few days, she had no choice but to return to the Brian Center.

She left there as soon as she could, ending up homeless at one point before landing at her current residence.

Then he was hired by a nursing home at the base of a tree-covered hill called Autumn Care of Waynesville.

During the next 15 or so years, he would bounce between Autumn Care and at least four other nursing homes, including the Brian Center.

There she was escorted to the sixth floor and locked in the psychiatric ward. "I am really telling the truth here, and it's really not fair you're turning a deaf ear to what I'm saying," she remembers telling hospital workers in the ward, where she had been a patient before.

It's unglamorous work that doesn't pay much, but he seemed to enjoy his job. He loved helping people," his neighbor Burns told us, adding that Gomez often came over to his house for dinner and Bible study, and they talked about life and work.

A former co-worker said most nursing assistants rarely went the extra step for their patients. He would alert a nurse that a resident needed a new bandage, for instance, and he took the time to get to know his patients and their families. A month after the stroke victim left the Brian Center, at p.m.

It could be tempting to dismiss her story as drug-induced hallucinations or the confusion of a stroke survivor. " This woman, pictured above and at the top of this story, is now in a nursing home where she feels safe.

Police might find her the very definition of an unreliable witness. She says the man who aggressively cornered her that day, sticking his hand up her shirt and fondling her breasts, was a nursing aide named Luis Gomez. But she is still haunted by what she says happened to her at the Brian Center in Waynesville, North Carolina. I thought, 'I need to tell someone,' but I was afraid no one would believe me." She was right. The woman told police that the director of nursing at the Brian Center Health & Rehabilitation, Gail Robertson, reacted to the story with disbelief.

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