A day after Ashton found a dead body, his landlord sounded an alarm: ‘The train is coming off the track’

Syracuse, N.Y. — A day after Ashton DeGonzaque found a dead body in his father’s apartment, the landlord began sounding the alarm.

“My exact words were, ‘The train is coming off the track,’ ” Tony Borelli said.

That was four months before Ashton, 11, was found dying in the same house, in the same spot of the same suspected cause: a drug overdose. He had bloody sores from lice, and burns so deep they exposed his bones, family said.

Interviews with Borelli and Ashton’s family paint the picture of a man no one thought was capable of taking care of a difficult adolescent on his own. Jeremy DeGonzaque could not read or write much more than his name. He required help paying his bills and did not know how to shop for groceries, family said.

And yet, everyone left Jeremy on his own with Ashton.

They were desperate for someone other than themselves to take care of the boy. They took at face value the assurances of several agencies that promised to support Ashton and Jeremy, who goes by “Buzz.” They would check on the little family at home, teach life skills to Buzz, and more. They would be the safety net.

But thread by thread, agency by agency, it all tore apart.

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Since Ashton’s death March 7, strangers, neighbors, school workers and police have said they made complaints to Onondaga County’s Child Protective Services about Ashton’s living conditions. The caseworker and supervisor handling his case were put on unpaid leave and resigned while the county tried to fire them. Syracuse police and the county District Attorney’s Office are also investigating Ashton’s death.

There were at least six agencies involved in Ashton’s case in the months leading up to his death. Some were helping Ashton. At least one, Prime Care NY, was supposed to be helping Buzz learn to be a parent for the first time. Prime Care is a for-profit company that coordinates help for people with developmental disabilities. The Rochester-based company has nearly 400 employees and is largely funded by the state. It has direct contracts totaling more than $3 million, according to the state Comptroller’s Office, but it is also paid by hundreds of other agencies that are funded by the state.

Prime Care’s job is to make sure people like Buzz get the help they need to live safely. A spokesman with Prime Care confirmed that Buzz was a client but declined comment for this story.

Buzz never had custody of Ashton on his own. He had developmental disabilities and a seizure disorder that made it difficult for him to care for himself, let alone a child, said relatives and others close to the case. Because of these disabilities, he receives services through the state Office for People With Developmental Disabilities.

Until the end of October, Ashton had lived most of his life with his grandmother and then his great uncle, Bob DeGonzaque.

Ashton never moved. He was always at 604 E. Division St., which his family had rented from Borelli for more than 15 years.

Ashton’s great-uncle, Bob, decided over the summer to leave Syracuse. Ashton, Bob said, made it clear he wanted to stay in Syracuse and live with his father. In a previous interview with Syracuse.com, Bob said he worked with the agencies that were already supposed to be helping Ashton and Buzz, and together they came up with a plan for when Bob left town.

Borelli, who grew up in the home where Ashton was found dying, said he never would have rented to Buzz without that plan and those people pledging to help.

Borelli runs the Neighborhood Watch Groups of Syracuse, a nonprofit umbrella organization that helps the city’s network of civilian crime watchers. The nonprofit is funded by the city and Borelli, a retired Syracuse teacher, works out of city offices. Borelli took some heat for not stopping the horror that snowballed on his property. But he says he did all he could.

Borelli said he did not agree to sign the lease with Buzz until he spoke with Buzz’s care manager at Prime Care.

“They told me they were going to be checking on him every other week,” Borelli said. He said he had a conference call with Buzz, someone from Prime Care and other agencies, which he declined to name. They all assured him they would be working with Buzz on life skills, parenting, budgeting and that they would help him get a job, Borelli said.

The rent was guaranteed – AccessCNY, a Syracuse agency, cut the monthly $900 checks. AccessCNY also helps people with developmental disabilities, but in this case it was not providing any direct services to Buzz, a spokesman said. Prime Care was the go-to agency, Borelli said.

The state Office for People with Disabilities also declined comment, saying federal law prohibits it from discussing or acknowledging cases. Buzz also received support from Helio Health, an agency that provides drug treatment and mental healthcare. A Helio spokeswoman declined comment.

The apartment Ashton’s family rented is Borelli’s only rental property, records show. His grandparents bought the two-family home after they came to the U.S. from Italy. When Borelli and his sister were little, they lived upstairs with their parents and their grandparents lived downstairs.

The family began renting out the downstairs to Ashton’s grandmother, Michelle Scheel, at least 15 years ago. The upstairs had never been rented out. Borelli’s parents’ furniture and valuables were still there, even though they died more than a decade ago.

When Ashton died, 604 E. Division St. was declared unfit. It was covered in garbage. The sinks, toilets and tubs were full of urine and feces. There were bottles of urine where Ashton’s bedroom had once been, according to code enforcement records.

Borelli said that by that time, he had called Prime Care more than a dozen times to ask for help. The former teacher kept detailed notes.

But like the calls to Child Protective Services about Ashton’s care, Borelli said, the calls to Prime Care about Buzz went ignored. Borelli also made complaints to CPS about Ashton’s well-being, including after he saw the child walking on the roof of a two-story building on the street.

Borelli said he was only in Ashton’s apartment once since the boy and his dad began living there alone.

It was in the first week of November, when he stopped in to install new smoke and carbon monoxide detectors. At that time, Borelli said the house looked like it always had.

Borelli said he called Buzz after Ashton found the body.

“He says he has no idea what has happened. He doesn’t know where he got the drugs,” Borelli said. What Borelli did not know was that the man whose body was found was Buzz’s cousin, Shane Demoff, and that he and Buzz were known to use drugs together, according to relatives.

“I told him, ‘This can’t keep going, otherwise we’re gonna start having different conversations,’ ” Borelli said.

Buzz said he understood, Borelli said.

Borelli, though, wasn’t so sure. He said he kept pressing Prime Care to have someone come do the home visits that were promised in the fall.

“They told me, ‘I live in Oswego. I can’t come down and check on him,’ ” Borelli said. He said the care manager said he’d just been given the case and no one would share information with him about Buzz. Borelli said he then called the supervisor, who didn’t answer, so he left a message detailing the problem.

“I said, ‘What’s going on here? This isn’t what I signed up for,’ ” Borelli said. He listed the services he was told Buzz was going to receive, and detailed how that didn’t appear to be happening.

No one returned his call, he said. When he left a second message, a supervisor promised to look into it and have someone check on Buzz, but no one followed up.

Borelli detailed a series of calls to Prime Care over the next two months that went the same way. There was never action, and always an excuse of someone new taking over Buzz’s case, needing to catch up.

At the same time, everything was getting worse at 604 E. Division St.

By mid-December, Buzz had been arrested for trying to punch out a police officer at Ashton’s school. Borelli did not know about this.

It was Christmas when he found out how bad things were.

That night, he got a call from neighbors that the lights were on in the upstairs apartment, where no one was living.

Borelli went and also called the police to come. The security system had been ripped out. It was clear that the apartment had been broken into from the back stairwell, which only could have been accessed from Buzz’s apartment.

The apartment, full of Borelli’s parents’ furniture and valuables, had been ransacked. There was a giant hole in the wall. Two four-foot statues of St. Jude had been tossed out the second-story window and were broken on the back lawn. His mother’s rosary beads were everywhere.

Borelli said the police agreed to begin driving by the house every night. He and his sister would go there and stake the house out, too.

It was during that time that Borelli called CPS. The home where he grew up in was no place for a kid now. He said he made one anonymous complaint in the week after Christmas and another one later.

Borelli also asked Buzz about whether he helped people break in to the upstairs apartment. Borelli said Buzz told him he knew nothing about it and closed the door. Borelli said he could not see inside the house.

Borelli said in the weeks after Christmas, Buzz and his friends were yelling for him and kicking in the door when he was trying to clean the upstairs apartment. This happened twice. Borelli called the police, according to him and police records.

Borelli also kept calling Prime Care, trying to get help from Buzz’s care manager.

But by January there was a third new care manager, who again told Borelli he knew nothing about the case.

Borelli filed for eviction Jan. 18. Buzz’s most recent Prime Care care manager is listed on all of the eviction paperwork filed with the court.

Buzz and Ashton had until Feb. 29 to find a new home. It’s unclear if Buzz’s care manager at Prime Care was doing anything to help them find a new place to live.

But the boy and his father stayed at 604 E. Division St.

A week later, Ashton was dead.

Do you know anything about how Ashton died? Marnie Eisenstadt is investigating. Contact anytime email| Twitter| Facebook | 315-470-2246.