Guadalupe Olvera’s right to move in with his daughter in Aptos was disputed by Nevada authorities for almost three years. (Photo by Chip Scheuer)
Caught in a perplexing situation by people she had believed to be working for her, Schultz hired other lawyers and went to the family court in Las Vegas in an attempt to remove Shafer as guardian and have herself and her husband appointed. Delays by the court and complaints by Shafer about Schultz’s character alleging that she was after her father’s money (“character assassination,” says Schultz) stalled the process.
Finally, in September 2010, Schultz defied the Nevada court and brought her father from Las Vegas to her home in Aptos, where he resides today. He spends most of his time in a nicely appointed room in Schultz’s house. Schultz and her husband Robert provide meals, laundry, help with bathing and transportation to doctor visits to her father. Olvera stated numerous times in a court report that his daughter and son-in-law treat him “like gold.” Schultz estimates they save him $7,300 a month—the figure Shafer’s care giving agency charged.
Schultz remembers the day in 2009 that she spoke with Shafer in her father’s home about the temporary guardianship. She says he assured her he didn’t like to hold onto cases like Olvera’s for more than three to six months and then added, “You know, I don’t even have to go to court. The judges give me what I want.”
Just two weeks before Schultz moved her father to California, Schultz and Olvera sat in a hearing before Clark County Nevada Family Court Commissioner Jon Norheim. Across from them sat Jared Shafer and Alan Freer, one of the several attorneys Shafer works with. Schultz and Olvera had two attorneys, Stephen Mayfield and Brian Boggess.
A video of the hearing viewed by the Weekly shows casual courtroom decorum by Norheim and Shafer and peculiar behavior by Norheim, who is supposed to be hearing both sides of the case.
Norheim perches at the judge’s bench, sipping out of a large soda and personally outlining the reasons the court is recommending Olvera stay in Las Vegas. Freer isn’t required to say anything until over halfway through the proceedings—Norheim rebuts the assertions of Schultz’s attorneys himself. All the while Shafer, wearing a T-shirt, reclines in his seat with his hands folded behind his head.
Olvera stands up, again wearing his WW2 uniform, and announces forcefully, “I’m going to California no matter what. I’m not going to live here. I don’t need that man; I don’t need Jared [Shafer]!”
“I’m not willing to make that jump today,” says Commissioner Norheim, with an apologetic smile. “You may have greater luck at a higher level than me.”
Norheim then cites a report conducted by a court social worker months before, which allegedly says Olvera didn’t want to move to California.
“There has been a determination that Mr. Shafer is doing a good job,” says Norheim. “The ward has continuously expressed that he doesn’t want to move to California, that he wants to be here with the friends in the facility that he’s in, because he developed bonds there…he likes the social environment there.”
That piece, though, is odd. Olvera didn’t live in a facility with a social environment. He lived at home, alone, with just a single caregiver from an organization called Keep You Company.
Schultz repeatedly refers to this experience as a “kangaroo court,” and says she wonders if Norheim even read the case documents.