Now, the family of 65-year-old Arthur Janis is seeking an apology.

“They continued to deny that they cut his hair,” said Keith Janis, a member of the Oglala Lakota Nation, of his brother. “They tried to make us all sound crazy.”

On Thursday, UCHealth officials released a statement saying they had determined through an investigation that Arthur Janis arrived at their hospital with shoulder-length hair that hospital staff cut shorter to prevent the intensive care patient from developing a pressure ulcer.

Dan Weaver, UCHealth’s vice president of communications, said the patient was not identified as someone with Native American roots before hospital staff cut his hair.

“Our medical team acted appropriately given the information they had available to them and the acute medical needs of the patient,” Weaver wrote in the statement. “We continue to work with the family to coordinate his ongoing care.”

Keith Janis said his brother was medically transported from Rapid City, South Dakota, to UCHealth University of Colorado Hospital in August after suffering severe chest and stomach pain. Arthur Janis experienced blood clotting and a stroke while at UCHealth, leaving him drifting in and out of consciousness, Keith Janis told The Post in an interview. Arthur remains hospitalized there.

Family members from across the country visited Arthur Janis in the hospital, but expenses kept them from staying long, his brother said.

In October, UCHealth staff arranged a video call between Arthur Janis and his sister so she could check in on him. Keith Janis said his sister noticed Arthur’s waist-length hair had been chopped short, seemingly haphazardly.

“All of us have long hair because it’s a part of our culture,” Keith Janis said. “In Lakota culture, hair has all the memories of your whole life. It has the love of your mother who brushed it and braided it and poured her love and strength into it.”

UCHealth’s Weaver said Arthur Janis had matted hair at the back of his head and that his medical team had to “carefully trim” for health reasons. He said the hospital could share some information about Arthur’s situation with permission from his sister, who is his medical decision-maker and has medical power of attorney.

When a Lakota tribal member dies, Keith Janis said their long hair is cut and becomes part of a memorial for their family members.

“The hair is so important to us and has real cultural significance,” Keith Janis said.

Seeing his brother’s hair cut was particularly gutting to Keith Janis because it transported him back to the memory of himself and Arthur being forcibly separated from their parents as children and taken to a Native American boarding school, where their hair was cut against their will.

“We have been growing it out since then,” Keith Janis said.

Upset by the haircut, Keith Janis raised money for himself and other Indigenous activists to travel to Colorado and learn about what had happened. In early November, Keith Janis and loved ones made the trip from South Dakota. Keith Janis said he and his group were met at UCHealth by “a security detail.”

“We didn’t come in stomping and yelling or making a scene,” Keith Janis said. “We’re all very humble people. We just wanted to see Arthur.”

Keith Janis met with UCHealth staff multiple times, asking what happened to his brother’s hair. He provided The Post with recordings of those meetings, which appear to show UCHealth officials telling the Janis family that Arthur had his long hair when he entered their care but returned to the hospital from the Center at Lowry, a medical recovery and rehabilitation facility, having had his hair cut.

A recording of a meeting with Center at Lowry staff that Keith Janis provided to The Post documented an employee there saying she was comfortable testifying under oath that Arthur did not have his hair cut at their facility.

UCHealth told Keith Janis in the recordings that the situation was under investigation and that staff would review surveillance footage and conduct employee interviews. But Keith Janis said he’s only been provided a couple of blurry still photographs from the security footage, and that UCHealth has not shown him any video.

As news of the situation spread, CU Regent Nolbert Chavez said he wanted answers from UCHealth about what happened, noting the connection between the university and the hospital on CU’s Anschutz Medical Campus.

Chavez said UCHealth officials offered two different explanations to him and other CU leaders, first saying they had video that showed Arthur Janis initially arriving at the hospital with short hair, then claiming to have footage showing Arthur leaving the hospital with long hair and returning from the rehab facility with shorter hair.

“UCHealth has lied to the Board of Regents, to the community and to the family that they have a video that proves their position,” Chavez said. “They continue to withhold it and therefore I believe that it either doesn’t exist or doesn’t show what they say it does. They have lied to everyone.”

Chavez said he plans to ask his fellow regents to review how UCHealth board members are appointed in light of this incident.

Before heading back to South Dakota, Keith Janis filed a report with the Aurora Police Department. Joe Moylan, a spokesman for Aurora police, confirmed the department is investigating the incident, but said he couldn’t share any additional information due to the active investigation.

Keith Janis said UCHealth officials eventually called his sister, Arthur Janis’s medical proxy, in November and admitted the hospital did cut their brother’s hair

“I decided I’d call an even bigger group together and get down there and demand from them an apology for the humiliation they put me and all my relatives through and them knowing they cut his hair and lying to us,” Keith Janis said.

Keith Janis and his loved ones traveled back to UCHealth on Thanksgiving — a day he noted represents loss and genocide to Native American people.

“We demanded an apology from them for what they have put us through,” Keith Janis said. “A public apology from that hospital because of all the lies and deception. They wouldn’t give it. We have not gotten our apology.”

The family is now looking into legal options, he said.

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When he made it, he burst into tears.

“I felt like Forrest Gump,” Lauterbach said. “I ran, and I just cried. It’s been incredible.”

The 58-year-old, diagnosed with multiple sclerosis eight years ago, thought his running days were long over. But playing pingpong, he said, had brought back the gift of running.

Lauterbach credits table tennis for a vast improvement in his overall mobility. The Colorado-based NeuroPong program he participates in is now being researched by scientists investigating the link between neurodegenerative conditions and the game often associated with parents’ basements.

After his diagnosis, Lauterbach dealt with neuropathy along the right side of his body that rendered the movement of his arm, hand, leg and foot difficult. He developed balance problems and could no longer run or ride his bike around Fort Collins.

But about a year ago, Lauterbach received an email from the Multiple Sclerosis Society about a pingpong group established to help people with neurodegenerative diseases like MS, Parkinson’s and dementia.

The NeuroPong program, led by founder and CEO Antonio Barbera, marries medicine with the love of the game. Barbera brings his 31 years as a physician — interrupted by an MS diagnosis in 2017 — while 27-year-old Peruvian table tennis champion Francesca Vargas provides the pingpong expertise as head coach and fellow MS patient.

After about three months of sessions inside a Fort Collins church gymnasium under the tutelage of Barbera and Vargas, Lauterbach began regaining his balance and learning actual pingpong technique.

Researchers at the Movement Disorders Center on the University of Colorado’s Anschutz Medical Campus were so intrigued by the anecdotal success stories they heard that they began studying the NeuroPong players’ symptoms and tracking their improvements for their research.

“Table tennis is not a miracle,” Barbera said. “The paddle is not a miracle. What is magic is your brain.”

Bridging physical, mental and social health

Barbera, a gynecologist for more than 30 years, lost his ability to work after his MS hindered control of his right arm and leg. He also experienced chest tightness, an uncomfortable feeling Barbera likened to an elephant sitting on his torso.

In 2019, Barbera was playing pingpong in his garage with his son when he noticed something.

“It was like the elephant was sitting in a chair on the other side of the room, leaving me alone,” he said.

Barbera felt better when he played the tabletop game, but the former physician wanted the backing of science to better understand why. He consulted neurologists, physical therapists and scientists to learn more about how exercise and socialization can improve cognitive function and whether pingpong might be an ideal form of rehabilitation for people with neurodegenerative diseases.

The motor function, quick decision-making, hand-eye coordination and side-to-side movement involved in table tennis could be a perfect storm for boosting cognitive function, he thought.

Barbera founded NeuroPong in 2021.

Now, he oversees the program with about 60 players between Boulder and Fort Collins sessions. Players come in various skill levels. Some have trouble walking and standing. Some use a wheelchair. Others have tremors or little control over their limbs, Barbera said. Many have never before picked up a paddle.

Players range in age from young folks to those in their 90s and have different neurodegenerative conditions that impact their nervous systems.

When a new player joins the crew, Barbera assesses them to see where they should begin. Some players hang onto the pingpong table and practice walking back and forth along it or tossing the ball into the air and catching it. Barbera and Vargas hover close by, keeping an eye on players’ balance and movement control.

Vargas teaches basic table tennis techniques, including how to serve and hit. She practices with the players, lobbing the ball in such a way as to set them up for success.

A successful volley is not the ultimate goal, though.

“What I care about most is the entire person,” Barbera said.

Patients’ mental health is considered, too, as Barbera and researchers inquire how players are feeling emotionally and socially.

For Lauterbach, the group has provided a community of people who understand what he’s going through — friends who can grab a coffee together after sessions.

Earlier this month, Lauterbach beamed in the Fort Collins church gymnasium while demonstrating his ableness to balance on one leg — something he once couldn’t do — while surrounded by his newfound friends.

“There is fellowship, and that helps, too,” Lauterbach said. “I work my whole schedule around pingpong because I hate missing it.”

Research is promising

Vargas also goes to great lengths to attend NeuroPong.

To get to her head coaching job, the 27-year-old bikes to a bus stop in her Highlands Ranch neighborhood, rides the bus to Fort Collins and then bikes to the church the group uses as home base before doing it all again to head home.

When the Peruvian professional pingpong player was diagnosed with MS two years ago, she thought her days of table tennis were over. Dizziness, balance and vision problems plagued her, but the athletic young woman felt she couldn’t let the diagnosis define her.

Instead, Vargas got back in the saddle with her pingpong paddle and competed in another Peruvian table tennis championship six months after her diagnosis — and won.

“Something inside me said I could do it,” Vargas said.

Vargas vacationed in Denver to visit friends soon after and ended up connecting with Barbera.

The pingpong champion had been private about her diagnosis, only telling close friends and family, because the medical condition put her in a dark place, she said.

Barbera offered her a job and a chance to be open about her journey, which Vargas couldn’t resist.

“Maybe this is my destiny, to help people that are doing the same as me and going through the same as me,” she said.

Throughout a recent NeuroPong practice, Vargas was met with smiling hugs from her trainees, who gushed over her friendliness and dedication. Vargas volleyed the ball back and forth, coaching with kindness and encouragement while Barbera came around correcting posture, recommending stretches and assessing how everyone was faring.

“I can see that this program is improving people’s symptoms,” Vargas said. “People are getting stronger. People who could not stand on their own at first are now doing so. People are having better control of their movements. They tell me they can open jars when they couldn’t before. It’s really improving quality of life.”

So far, the science agrees.

Matthew Woodward, a fellow at CU Anschutz’s Movement Disorders Center, said the results of their studies to date — looking at outcomes like balance improvement, movement and mood — show no negative results. The results need to be tested on a larger population to be statistically significant, Woodward said, but the research — this first study focuses solely on Parkinson’s disease — looks promising.

Additional research is on the way, Barbera said.

Exercise is the only thing doctors and scientists have found to slow the progression of Parkinson’s, Woodward said. He recommends 30 minutes of exertion, four to five times per week.

Table tennis is unique in that it combines several challenges to stimulate the brain, including hand-eye coordination, balance, motor functions and speed, while also being a bit more low-impact and manageable than other sports, Woodward said.

Mark Kelley, 73, helped pack up the pingpong tables in the Fort Collins church after a November practice with his friends.

The program is so much more than pingpong, he said. The physical therapy and friendship have changed his life.

“When I’m playing, it’s like my Parkinson’s melts away,” Kelley said.

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The Colorado Supreme Court struck down a law earlier this year that created a window during which child sexual abuse survivors could file lawsuits over decades-old abuse allegations. But attorneys representing Michael Stano argue their case is an exception because Stano only recently remembered the repressed sexual abuse.

“It’s certainly rare,” attorney Charles Mendez said of the legal strategy in an interview with The Denver Post on Tuesday. “It’s been argued before both in Colorado and other states, but it is rare. The repression is a trauma response to what happens to you because it gets locked in an area of your brain.”

Stano filed the lawsuit Friday in Denver District Court.

The two priests named as defendants — James Moreno and Robert Whipkey — were among the 49 clergy members identified by the Colorado Attorney General’s Office in 2019 and 2020 as having been the subjects of substantiated claims of sexual abuse.

The lawsuit alleges Stano also was abused by a third priest, but The Post is not naming him because he isn’t a defendant in the case.

Stano is suing Moreno and Whipkey on sexual assault and battery claims, and the Denver Archdiocese on claims of negligence and fraudulent concealment.

Representatives of the Denver Archdiocese did not immediately return a request for comment Tuesday, while Moreno and Whipkey could not be reached.

According to the lawsuit, Stano became an altar boy at Notre Dame Catholic Parish at age 6, at the request of the Catholic clergy he later would allege sexually abused him.

After he became an altar boy, Stano began acting out in school and at home, prompting his family to ask him what happened to him, according to the lawsuit. By the time he reached high school, Stano begged to attend a non-Catholic school, eventually graduating from Bear Creek High School, the lawsuit said.

“He did not want to continue a Catholic education for reasons he did not understand or express at the time,” Stano’s attorneys wrote.

Upon graduation, Stano left Colorado for California, where he lived for more than two decades. “He felt he needed to escape from something, though he did not know what it was,” the lawsuit read.

Stano’s adulthood was plagued by substance abuse, addiction problems and “violent sexual behaviors,” the lawsuit said, including “pimping himself out for sex” and appearing in “numerous devious pornographic videos and images.”

In 2019, Stano moved back to Colorado with his partner and began experiencing depression, severe anxiety, mood swings and “an extraordinary urge to flee Colorado,” the lawsuit said.

Stano and his partner moved in 2020 to Georgia, where his mental health continued to deteriorate, the lawsuit said. During an argument around this time, Stano’s partner asked him what he was hiding from and Stano responded, “I’m hiding from the church,” the lawsuit read.

“Over the next couple of weeks, Mr. Stano began to receive a flood of repressed memories,” the lawsuit read. “They came like flashes and were accompanied by foreign and extreme bodily sensations, including dreams, verbal ticks, convulsions and involuntary shaking. He could not stop them. The memories crashed into him. They included sharp picturesque scenes of locations in church buildings, faces, cars, smells, physical and emotional pain, and names.”

In the months following, Stano began remembering “violent, ritualistic rape by numerous priests” within the Denver Archdiocese, including Moreno and Whipkey, according to the lawsuit. Stano alleges the sexual abuse spanned 1979 to 1989.

Stano said he was taken to different locations including the library of St. Thomas Seminary and the Archdiocese’s Camp St. Malo in Allenspark, where he would be passed around to different priests and raped, the lawsuit alleged.

The abusers would tell Stano that if he told anyone what was happening, they would kill his family, the lawsuit alleged.

According to the Colorado Attorney General’s Office investigation, Moreno sexually assaulted a boy more than 60 times between 1978 and 1980. Moreno medically retired from the priesthood more than a decade ago, the report said. The former priest admitted to abusing his victim when confronted in 2019, the AG’s report said, and church officials at the time were trying to remove him from the priesthood. Moreno’s status is unclear at this point.

The state investigation found Whipkey allegedly walked around naked in front of four boys at a church camp in 1998. The Denver Archdiocese reported the allegation to the Teller County Department of Social Services at the time. Whipkey was sent to therapy for a year, but allowed to later continue ministry without restrictions. He later was arrested in Boulder on indecent exposure charges.

The lawsuit alleges the Denver Archdiocese knew the widespread problem of sexual abuse in their clergy and “actively concealed the abuse.”

“The conduct is really egregious and we’re hoping to do what we can to help him move to healing and getting justice,” Mendez said.

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African Community Center

When: 5:30 to 7 p.m. or 7 to 8:30 p.m. Monday, Nov. 20

Where: Assumption of the Theotokos Cathedral at 4610 E. Alameda Ave., Denver

Details: The African Community Center is hosting its 18th annual Refugee First Thanksgiving event on Monday. Tickets are free, but required. They can be reserved online. The event is a multicultural dinner welcoming newcomers to the country featuring international music, activities for children and globally inspired food. The event is alcohol-free and halal to be inclusive of Muslim attendees.

Denver Rescue Mission

When: 12 to 1 p.m. Tuesday, Nov. 21

Where: Empower Field at Mile High, parking lot B, at 1701 Bryant St, Denver

Details: While registration for Denver Rescue Mission’s Thanksgiving Banquet-in-a-Box is already full, people who did not get a chance to register can head to Empower Field between noon and 1 p.m. Tuesday to pick up a box from the program’s drive-through on a first-come, first-served basis — until boxes run out. The boxes contain Thanksgiving meal fixings for a family of eight to 10 people, along with a frozen turkey. Only one box per family will be distributed.

Brother Jeff Cultural Center

When: Thursday, Nov. 23

Where: Brother Jeff Cultural Center at 2836 Welton St., Denver

Details: Folks in Aurora and Denver can sign up for a free Thanksgiving meal delivery or pick-up through the Brother Jeff Cultural Center. Fill out the form at brotherjeff.com to determine whether you require delivery or are able to pick up the food in the early afternoon. The center is offering contactless, COVID-safe deliveries for people who can’t leave their homes due to illness, mobility restrictions or lack of transportation.

Ms. Betty’s Harvest Madsgiving

When: Thursday, Nov. 23

Where: Select pick-up or delivery location

Details: Over the past four years, Danielle and Tajahi Cooke have used their local chef status to cook and provide nearly 40,000 meals to Coloradans in need on Thanksgiving. This year, in addition to cooking up food for the homeless and those in need, the Cookes also want to provide a hearty Thanksgiving meal for people working in the restaurant industry. Whether a front-of-house manager, chef, sous chef, line cook, prep cook, dishwasher or a server, The Cookes encourage people to fill out the application provided at msbettyscooking.com in exchange for a warm meal on Thanksgiving Day. Pick-up locations are scattered throughout Aurora and Denver — listed in the application — and delivery is possible as well.

Cherry Creek Schools

When: Thursday, Nov. 23

Where: 10 a.m. to 2 p.m. at Overland High School, 12400 E. Jewell Ave., Aurora; or 12 to 2 p.m. at Summit Church, 7200 S. Clinton St., Centennial

Details: Students in a culinary program at the Cherry Creek Innovation Campus will be making meals and volunteers from the Cherry Creek School District will be help to distribute the food at these two locations. More than 4,000 meals are expected to be handed out, and people can either drive or walk up to get their goods.

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Six of Denver Public Schools’ elected board members voted to raise yearly pay for new members, with one — board President Xóchitl “Sochi” Gaytán — dissenting.

Gaytán explained that she voted “no” because she felt DPS schools, students and teachers were more in need of the funding than board members.

“I am compelled to advocate prioritizing funding that directly impacts student and their needs,” Gaytán said during the Thursday meeting. “That money will be pulled from the DPS general fund. These funds could be redirected, providing much-needed support to students, families and parents.”

Other board members who supported the resolution discussed how the funding increase would allow candidates who could not previously afford to serve to have a better shot at the opportunity, providing more diversity to the school board.

“We owe it to the voters of Denver, the school board, teachers, faculty, our students to make sure we remove barriers to attaining a school board that looks like and reflects them,” Director Scott Esserman said.

Thursday’s vote came months after the proposal first surfaced — it was quickly tabled in February — and during three outgoing members’ final board meeting. Directors Scott Baldermann and Charmaine Lindsay lost their reelection bids by significant margins this month as voters sought change on the board, and Vice President Auon’tai Anderson didn’t seek another term.

DPS’s Board of Education was among the first school boards in Colorado to approve paying members after a 2021 state law allowed school board compensation.

About two years ago, the seven-person board passed a resolution to pay members up to $150 per day for as many as five days per month — totaling $9,000 maximum annually — for completing board duties such as attending meetings, work sessions and retreats.

Because an increase in pay can’t happen during a board member’s term, only five current members have been eligible for compensation. None of the members who voted on Thursday’s pay increase will be eligible for the higher rate until they’re reelected.

Gaytán and directors Esserman and Michelle Quattlebaum had received compensation under the 2021 law, said Bill Good, district spokesperson. Directors Carrie Olsen and Lindsey were eligible, but had not turned in the paperwork to be compensated.

The new proposal will increase pay to $150 per day for as many as five days per week, totaling a maximum of $33,000 annually.

The resolution states the legislative intent for paying school board members was to increase access for community members to serve on their local boards and improve representation of the board makeup.

Only the three newly elected board members — John Youngquist, Kimberlee Sia and Marlene De La Rosa — will be eligible for the pay increase. They are expected to be sworn in later this month.

It’s not clear how many Colorado districts pay their school board members, as neither the state Department of Education nor the Colorado Association of School Boards tracks that.

The boards overseeing the Sheridan School District in Englewood and Aurora Public Schools have elected to pay their members, although Aurora’s board pay won’t go into effect until July 2025. The Boulder Valley School District’s board also has begun discussing whether to pay members.

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The boiler system at the Auraria Student Lofts, located in a high rise at 1051 14th St., across from the Denver Performing Arts Complex, malfunctioned in mid-September, leaving student tenants without consistent hot water, said Paula Platt, senior vice president of Nelson Partners Student Housing, which manages the property.

The Auraria Campus, home to the Metropolitan University of Denver, the University of Colorado Denver and Colorado Community College, is not affiliated with the private student apartments, which offer 125 units with 438 beds.

The parts to fix the boiler are custom and must be manufactured, Platt said. The apartment building is working with the Denver Department of Public Health and Environment to comply with the agency’s concerns and deadlines, Platt said, which include having the repair work completed by Dec. 11.

Officials with Denver’s health department said Thursday that they have been working with property management on the hot water issue since September after receiving eight complaints.

“Our investigators have reported water temperature readings below what is required in the housing code and our rules and regulations,” said Amber Campbell, a Denver Department of Public Health and Environment spokesperson. “We take violations of the housing code seriously and issued an order for the property to comply with city regulations and correct this issue on Sept. 21.”

Auraria Student Lofts’ management submitted a request to extend that deadline because a specially made part had to be ordered, Campbell added, and the request was granted.

In the meantime, student tenants who live in the building have been told they can sign up for 30-minute hot showers between 9 a.m. and 10 p.m. daily at the Curtis Hotel. The student lofts and hotel share the same building — the hotel is on the first 16 floors, while students live on floors 17 through 30 — but they have separate entrances and elevators.

Fiana Surace, 18, said she doesn’t have time during her day to go to the hotel next door and shower. Instead, she has braved cold showers or boiled water to bathe in when she gets desperate.

The MSU Denver student said she doesn’t understand why she’s paying full price to live for months in an apartment without hot water.

Surace, who has roommates, said she’s paying close to $1,000 a month for her share of the apartment, but has heard from other tenants who called to complain that they received discounted rent.

“Residents are paying the full monthly rent,” Platt told The Denver Post. “Any final compensation for affected residents will be considered once repairs are complete.”

Amenities touted on the complex’s website include gaming lounges, poolside cabanas, a yoga studio and a seasonal lounge pool.

Arthur Rice, a 19-year-old CU Denver student, said one of his roommates at the Auraria Student Lofts called to complain about paying full rent and received a $250 discount.

Rice said he’s busy with classes between the designated Curtis Hotel shower times, so that’s not a good option for him.

An email from the apartment complex to tenants reviewed by The Post said the online system to sign up for hotel showers was glitching so much that students can now only schedule a hot shower by phone or in person at the front desk.

“I used to work out at night but now I don’t because I don’t want to take another freezing shower,” Rice said. “I don’t think it’s fair because there aren’t a lot of student housing options close to campus. This is robbing students who are already working through debt and in stressful financial situations. A hot shower is something a human deserves, especially now that it’s getting cold out. There should be some kind of repercussion and financial compensation for this.”

Last year, a Nelson Partners Student Housing complex in Greeley called University Flats was ordered into receivership by a judge after lawsuits alleged the property management company defaulted on loans and didn’t pay for maintenance, according to the Loveland Reporter-Herald.

The New York Times reported on Nelson Partners Student Housing in 2021 in an investigation titled “A Sinking Student Housing Empire” detailing the company’s financial woes,  mismanagement and the impacts on students’ lives around the country.

“Your comfort and satisfaction are of the utmost importance to us, and we are so sorry that we have to go through this as a community,” Auraria Student Lofts leasing manager Crystal Chase wrote in an email sent to tenants earlier this month.

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CU Denver’s Faculty Assembly aired its conflicts publicly last month in a notice of intention to censure Provost Constancio Nakuma, who is tasked with overseeing academic and student affairs. Ultimately, faculty representatives voted last week to postpone their censure vote until February, giving Nakuma time to address their concerns.

The assembly’s censure resolution called Nakuma out for having “diminished the university’s reputation and financial position, the well-being of faculty, staff and students… and the trust and cooperation necessary during a period of crisis and transition.”

The resolution criticized Nakuma for his removal of the dean of the College of Architecture and Planning. It also accused him of mismanaging CU Denver’s Office of Financial Aid, resulting in students not receiving funds on time, and said he failed to address campus mental health concerns laid bare in a university-commissioned review of CU Denver’s counseling center.

That review, conducted by higher education consulting firm Keeling & Associates, concluded CU Denver’s mental health services were understaffed and insufficient to meet the increasing needs of students.

CU mental health staff reported they “have never seen things this bad at any institution” and “can’t figure out how to get people to care” because “leadership doesn’t listen,” according to the report. One staff member, the report said, told consultants “only a tragic incident will get their attention.”

“University leadership seems not to have recognized and responded to mental health as the concern — or crisis — that it is, or to have prioritized mental health among campus challenges,” the report’s authors wrote.

Nakuma, who has been at CU Denver for three years following a 19-year tenure at Clemson University, declined an interview request from The Denver Post, but did send an emailed statement.

“I respect the Faculty Assembly process and willingness to engage with me,” Nakuma wrote. “I recognize that there is more work to be done, but I am optimistic that we can come together in a productive manner and make continued progress.”

In emailed responses to The Post’s questions, Marie Williams, CU Denver’s vice chancellor of marketing and communications, said Nakuma disputed several points in the faculty’s resolution. The faculty’s claims about financial aid and mental health are “sweeping” and “lack nuance and substantiation,” Williams wrote.

Faculty Assembly Chair Sasha Breger Bush declined an interview with The Post about the censure resolution. CU Denver faculty members, particularly those without tenure, have been tight-lipped about the situation. Student government leaders did not respond to a request for comment.

“A blatant level of misogyny”

Among the faculty’s complaints against Nakuma: his removal of Architecture and Planning Dean Nan Ellin over the summer.

Jody Beck, CU Denver’s dean of academic affairs and an associate professor in architecture, told The Post that a handful of faculty wrote a letter to Nakuma saying they did not believe Ellin — who had served as the college’s dean since 2017 — was fit for the job.

Every other department wrote a letter to the provost countering that narrative, Beck said.

“She had been an amazing dean,” Beck said, noting Ellin’s knack for bringing in funding, collaboration and including diverse people and perspectives.

This feedback was dismissed, Beck said. Nakuma removed Ellin in “a really brutal, public way” in July, having her escorted out and publicly implying wrongdoing on her part, according to Beck and the Faculty Assembly’s censure resolution.

Nakuma also called a faculty meeting at which he shared personnel information about Ellin that he “hoped would remain confidential,” according to the censure letter.

“What’s interesting is he removed a male dean previously, but we’ve heard it was quiet and respectful and totally different than what happened here,” Beck said. “There appears to have been a blatant level of misogyny in the way this was handled.”

In response to the faculty’s censure letter, Nakuma wrote: “I admit in hindsight that my communication of former dean Nan Ellin’s departure could have been handled differently. I own that mistake, which made a painful issue for all of us even more so. Despite some of the process issues surrounding the announcement, which I have since reflected on and learned from, I stand by my decision. This decision was not made lightly or without significant due diligence, thought, and consultation.”

Ellin, who remains at CU Denver as a professor of urban design, did not respond to an interview request.

“Critical improvements” to financial aid

CU Denver staff and faculty repeatedly flagged problems with the financial aid office, including understaffing and training issues that led to students’ financial aid packages not being distributed on time, the censure resolution said.

Over the summer, faculty documented 31 students who left the CU Denver Business School because other universities had “functioning” financial aid offices, according to the resolution.

“This is directly causing student distress and hardship, and student attrition at a university that is experiencing a budget deficit and for which revenue is driven by tuition dollars,” Faculty Assembly representatives wrote.

In his letter responding to the Faculty Assembly’s concerns, Nakuma wrote that he agrees the university needs to “enhance the strategy and operations” of the financial aid office and that a study has been commissioned to better understand how to improve.

“In terms of financial aid, we have already begun to make several critical improvements, including the hiring of new leadership to oversee and direct the areas of enrollment management and financial aid,” Nakuma wrote.

Increasing mental health needs

The faculty also questioned Nakuma’s commitment to mental health services on campus.

In the summer of 2022, Monique L. Snowden, CU Denver’s senior vice chancellor for strategic enrollment and student success, commissioned Keeling & Associates to conduct a review of the campus’s mental health services. The consulting firm’s final report, dated March 2023 and obtained by The Post, included interviews with counseling staff and data, and was highly critical of the university’s mental health offerings.

CU Denver did not publicly release the results of the review. However, a staff member received the document after filing a public records request with the university, according to the censure resolution, and it since has been distributed around the campus.

Williams, the CU Denver spokesperson, said in an email that the review was never meant to offer a state of mental health counseling for broad distribution. The review also contained errors, Williams said, such as combining data for CU Denver and CU’s Anschutz Medical Campus.

Mental health is a top priority of the university, Williams wrote, adding that students have access to round-the-clock mental health services and are reporting low to no wait times at the counseling center.

CU Denver budgets about $2 million on mental health and dedicates 19 positions to its counseling center, case management operation and related services, officials said.

According to the review, members of the CU Denver Campus Assessment, Response and Evaluation Team — created to assess whether individuals pose a risk to themselves or others and intervene when necessary — told the consulting firm that students referred to them have increased 25% to 40% every year in recent memory, with 1,200 students referred during the last academic year.

The CARE team said it only had the capacity to review the highest severity cases each week and couldn’t even look at the low and medium cases, according to the consultants’ report.

Moving forward

On Monday, one day before the originally planned censure vote, Nakuma wrote to faculty representatives proposing a November meeting to provide feedback, answer questions and give updates about mental health and financial aid.

Nakuma said he intended to share more information about the issues raised in his censure resolution and committed to an annual performance review.

“From your letter, I gleaned a desire for more communication, more transparency, more collaboration, more accountability and more standardized operating procedures for how we interact, and measure and report on our progress,” Naukma wrote in his letter to the Faculty Assembly. “I absolutely agree and look forward to sitting down and working with you to co-create a blueprint for our future.”

Faculty representatives said they are working on responding more thoroughly to Nakuma’s commitments, but tabled the censure to provide the provost time to get started on his promises.

“Our hope in postponing these proceedings is to permit you time to effectively respond to our concerns and to permit faculty across campus more time to fully learn about and participate in these ongoing efforts to ensure the academic welfare of our university,” Faculty Assembly Chair Sasha Breger Bush wrote.

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The 71-year-old scatters the walkway to her house on Denver’s Northside with the rich, orange petals of the cempasúchil — marigold — flowers. The blossoms, grown by Salazar, are synonymous with the traditional Mexican holiday of Día de los Muertos as they are thought to be fragrant enough to attract the spirits of deceased loved ones to their family’s homes and altars.

On Thursday, Day of the Dead, Salazar’s family will pack the matriarch’s home and gather around a sacred altar overflowing with photos of the dead and ofrendas — offerings — made up of the departed’s favorite earthly delights. The day serves as a reunion between the living and the dead when the veil between realms is considered thinnest.

“It is really peaceful,” Salazar said. “I am happy to know that when you’re gone, there is a beyond, and that beyond is powerful. It is a nostalgic day to remember where you came from and who you came from.”

Lit candles guide the path to Salazar’s front door. Garlands of marigolds and papel picado — colorful, decorative paper cutouts — line Salazar’s porch, letting passersby in this realm and the next know that a celebration of life, death and remembrance is brewing inside.

Salazar — a storied artist and former director of Santa Fe Art District’s Latin American art museum Museo de las Americas —  helped popularize Day of the Dead in Denver during the burgeoning Chicano movement in the 1970s. Even though the celebration is more widely recognized today, Salazar still enjoys teaching new celebrants the ancient ways of Día de los Muertos — the rites and rituals her grandmother passed to her that she passed to her daughter who now teaches her granddaughter.

While Día de los Muertos iconography like sugar skulls can often be found alongside witch hats and fun-sized candy bars at the grocery store, Day of the Dead is not simply a Mexican version of Halloween, Salazar said. The holiday, a blend of Indigenous and Latino cultural traditions dating back thousands of years, focuses on honoring ancestry and commemorating death as a part of life by building altars that serve as shrines to memorialize lost loved ones.

“I want people to remember me when I am gone, so I remember those I have lost,” she said.

Loss is universal

The leaders of the Latino Cultural Arts Center know the value of passing traditions on to youth, which is why the center brought Día de los Muertos programming to three Denver schools this year.

The art classroom at Denver’s Valverde Elementary School hummed on Tuesday with an excitement only attainable by a group of children given craft supplies at 9:30 a.m. As the arts center’s Mandy Medrano and Valverde art teacher Kristina Barboza passed out light-up butterfly replicas, faux marigolds and miniature clay pan de muerto — a type of Mexican bread baked for Day of the Dead — the fourth-graders squealed with delight.

Barboza has been teaching Día de los Muertos for six years at Valverde, where a majority of the student body is Hispanic.

“It started off small,” Barboza said. “We’d put an altar together, but post-COVID, it turned into a bigger family celebration because of the needs of our community. Because there was so much loss. Our parents asked for this, and it’s brought our whole community together.”

The students make art to display at a big altar honoring the school community’s lost loved ones. With the help of Latino Cultural Arts Center funding, families will be welcomed on Thursday for food, drinks and mental health resources.

Melissa Roybal, a Denver Public Schools social worker and trauma-informed therapist, volunteers with the arts center to provide mental health services at its Day of the Dead programming.

“We’re trying to destigmatize talking about mental health in the Latino community,” Roybal said. “That’s why it’s so important to have practitioners who look like the communities they’re serving.”

Normalizing mental health can be as simple as word reframing, Roybal said. Instead of using words like “therapy,” Roybal tells people she’s there to help talk things out.

“Everyone has loss,” Medrano said. “It’s universal. I’m never afraid to talk to kids about loss. It’s better to not sugarcoat things and be real about it. It’s a part of who we are as a people.”

Yulissa Robles, 9, was happy to share as she glued pink ribbon to her altar, which she was making to honor her uncle and aunt who passed away.

“My favorite part has been making something that represents my family,” Yulissa said. “At home, we make our altar, too, because we like to represent our culture.”

“A beautiful tapestry”

On Thursday, Salazar prepped her altar-making supplies in her santos — saints — room, a striking part of her home with walls the color of butter and covered from top to bottom in artwork spanning various religions, from crosses to New Mexican saints to tapestries and her own woodwork.

She blessed the offerings before placing them on the altar, bathing them in incense from burning palo santo.

Her fingers brushed the frames and delicate edges of generations-old photographs awaiting their time on the altar. As the day gets closer and Salazar’s preparations head into overdrive, she said she begins dreaming of her deceased family members and knows they are close. She awaits their reunion at the altar with a soft smile.

“Life and death is with you constantly,” Salazar said. “If you ignore that, you only live but half your life.”

Renee Fajardo, coordinator of the Journey Through Our Heritage program at Metropolitan State University of Denver, described typical altar components as elements of the earth: fire in the form of candlelight, water and air represented by feathers or the paper cutouts. Altars often offer salt to protect the body from breaking down as it travels from the world of the dead to the world of the living, Fajardo said. The marigold flowers, pictures of the deceased and sugar skulls are key components, as well.

“It’s a beautiful tapestry — a weaving of people and communities and a particular area coming together to say, ‘This is the way we are going to love and honor our departed loved ones,'” Fajardo said. “It’s really about our humanity as a people that live on the same planet with each other, that we all have families we love and communities, and we all have departed loved ones.”

Family members also add personal touches to the altars reflecting the visitors’ personalities.

Salazar, for example, would like her family to leave her favorite molé at her altar when she dies.

Thanks to Colorado’s Latino and Chicano leaders throughout the years, Day of the Dead celebrations can be found throughout the state, from Westwood’s street festival to the parade along Santa Fe Drive to live dancing and music at the Longmont Museum.

Fajardo, a Denver native with Chicana and Native American roots, said when she thinks about Día de los Muertos, she imagines a future where the sacred remembrance of one’s ancestors lasts longer than the holiday.

“Once you have these pictures and stories of people and ancestors who built the community, we want to encourage people to begin a repository, a history telling,” Fajardo said. “We want it to be more than just looking at the parade and building of altars. How do we collect these stories and make sure the people who come after us recognize who we are in Colorado is a big, historic tradition of people weaving in and out of each other for hundreds of years.”

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Fred is a 12-foot-tall Home Depot skeleton — and he’s a hot commodity. The metal-framed monsters can be spotted this time of year towering over Colorado neighborhoods, from cityscapes to rural farmland.

Halloween fiends lucky enough to get their hands on the coveted décor can consider themselves members of an exclusive club; Home Depot won’t say how many of the skeletons it has sold, but Tyler Pelfrey, brand communications manager for the home-improvement giant, confirmed the behemoth box of bones has sold out every year since its 2020 debut.

Calls to Home Depot stores in Glendale, Colorado Springs, Pueblo and Fort Collins this week confirmed — occasionally with a harrumph of incredulous laughter from a sales associate for even deigning to hope — that the 12-foot-tall skeleton was out of stock.

On Facebook Marketplace, price gougers across the metropolitan area were peddling the bipedal set of bones, which retails for $299, at prices between $350 and $599.

Has fame gone straight to the skeletons’ giant, plastic heads? Erin Moriarty-Siler doesn’t think so. Instead, Fred the Dead has brought residents of the Berkeley neighborhood in northwest Denver together, she said.

All Moriarty-Siler wanted for her and her husband’s eight-year anniversary this year was one of the 12-foot skeletons. The size and splendor were too much for a Halloween fanatic to pass up. The Denverite had been eyeing the big guy since he first went on sale three years ago, but the stars never aligned on securing one.

Moriarty-Siler thought her family missed the orthopedic opportunity again this year — until her husband came home with the huge box in the back of his car after striking a deal with a Facebook Marketplace reseller in Centennial.

The eighth anniversary is henceforth the bones anniversary in the Moriarty-Siler household.

“I immediately started sobbing,” said Moriarty-Siler, who happened to be wearing a skeleton shirt on the fateful day of Fred’s arrival. “It’s the best gift ever. It was kismet.”

Fred the Dead — Moriarty-Siler’s name for her bony buddy — was born that day with a crowd of awed neighbors assembled around the skeleton as it was erected into the sky, joining other holiday ornaments including more minuscule bony figurines, pumpkins and witch hats scattered around their yard.

Like many who manage to nab the giant skeleton, Moriarty-Siler plans to leave Fred up year-round, theming him in seasonally appropriate ways with Santa hats, Valentine hearts and the like.

“I’ll reach out and high-five him”

Loveland’s Kerri Sewolt is another skeleton year-rounder — mostly because Sewolt doesn’t know how else to store the heavyweight Halloween decoration.

“I don’t have an HOA, and I’m known as the Halloween Lady in my neighborhood anyway, so it’s fitting,” she said.

Sewolt has been the proud owner of a giant Home Depot skeleton since 2021 after being beguiled by its stature the first time she laid eyes on one a year prior.

Last summer, Sewolt received a complaint from a neighbor who was trying to sell their home, she said, and asked Sewolt to take the skeleton down.

“My snarky neighbor moved away and, luckily, the people who bought her house love my year-round décor enough that they thought it was a sign to buy the house,” Sewolt said. “I love my skeleton. He makes me so happy. I’ll reach out to high-five him as I’m walking into the house and tell him, ‘Hey, stay sexy.'”

Sewolt had seen other giant skeleton displays where homeowners had dressed their Halloween centerpieces like oversized dolls. Determined, she purchased a 4XL-sized Hawaiian shirt and pantsuit for the summer months, but “failed miserably” when it came to figuring out how to get the fabric over the massive prop.

Nevertheless, Sewolt credits her skeleton for inspiring others in the neighborhood to go hard on their Halloween décor. Fellow giant skeletons have appeared in her ‘hood, much to Sewolt’s delight.

“I don’t think it’s a competition,” Sewolt said. “I think of it more as, like, a skeleton community, if you will.”

“No good place to store him”

Grand Junction’s Deb Kennard also believes it takes a village to raise a skeleton.

Someone in Kennard’s community — Kennard may or may not be privy as to who — purchased a hulking skeleton and has been moving the thing around the neighborhood at night to surprise the kids.

The skeleton in Kennard’s neighborhood — named Bob the Bones by the local children — is a cousin of the Home Depot variety; it’s 10 feet tall and hails from Walmart, where it was actually in stock as opposed to its taller Home Depot counterpart.

The network of neighbors toting Bob from yard to yard is tight-lipped to preserve the sanctity of the myth of the mobile skeleton, but Bob’s lore is growing taller than his frame.

One family somehow hauled Bob onto the roof and arranged him to appear like he was headed down the chimney. Another home gave Bob the garden hose to test out his green thumb. Another family popped a second skeleton on Bob’s shoulders.

“I don’t even know whose house he’s at now, and that’s great,” Kennard said. “It’s turned into a good thing. There’s no good place to store him, so he can just stay out forever.”

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How the commissioners would enforce that order — the latest flare-up in a fight over library materials in the Western Slope county — and how the county even defines pornography were unclear when the board voted unanimously to approve the message Monday.

Commissioner Tom Jankovsky acknowledged in an interview with The Denver Post on Wednesday that the Garfield County Public Library District’s Board of Trustees is an independent body that doesn’t have to follow the county’s directive. But, he said, “the reason that motion was made is because we do have the ability to remove all board members from the library board.”

The commissioners “don’t want to go there,” Jankovsky said, but it is an option.

James LaRue, executive director of the Garfield County Public Library District, has received calls over the last year for select adult Japanese graphic novels — some with LGBTQ themes — in the county’s libraries to be stored on a top shelf away from children. Some people have requested the library check the IDs of patrons borrowing those books to ensure they’re over 18.

LaRue called the commissioners’ directive “political intimidation.” He said there is no legal definition of pornography and that, historically, the term has been used to describe all kinds of titles, from “The Grapes of Wrath” to children’s books about where babies come from.

Garfield County’s library does not intend to move the books out of reach, LaRue said, because the facility is not in the business of preventing people from reading.

The contested books include the Japanese manga-style series “The Finder” and “Prison School.”

“There is a keen interest in manga,” LaRue said. “Manga has a huge continuum of content. This was requested by a member of our public, and that’s what we do as a library.”

LaRue said the library district had no record of a child checking out one of the graphic novels — until recently, when a mother opposed to the books brought her child to the library and checked one out under the child’s name to prove that it’s possible, he said.

“It’s very easy to not allow access to what I would consider pornographic,” Jankovsky said during Monday’s public meeting. “I haven’t read the book, but I have read the letters to the editor and seen the graphics supplied to me by opponents of this. The graphics are not only pornographic but sadistic, masochistic, pedophilic — I don’t know if I used the right term on that one, but children shouldn’t be able to get those items.”

LaRue assembled a committee of library staff from different branches who have read the books to determine whether the graphic novels should be retained, reclassified or removed. So far, LaRue said, his staff has recommended to keep the books as they are.

The decision has divided the county with some supporting the library’s stance to keep books accessible and others — including the three county commissioners — arguing the library has a responsibility to protect children from what they deem “pornographic” materials.

After voting to approve the directive, the commissioners asked County Attorney Heather Beattie during the public meeting whether they were setting themselves up for a First Amendment battle over the definition of pornography.

Beattie said defining what constitutes pornography would be difficult and would likely end up being litigated in court.

LaRue said once he receives the paperwork confirming the directive, he’ll be contacting a lawyer.

The directive came after the three Garfield County commissioners decided not to appoint sole candidate Hanna Arauza — a local scientist, community organizer and mother whose resume said she frequents the library — to the Garfield County Libraries Board of Trustees after the library board voted to appoint her.

“I thought we were going to appoint a wonderful board member during this meeting and that it was not going to be a controversial thing,” LaRue said. “The board has always appointed people without issue in the past.”

Commissioners asked Arauza whether she would make pornographic materials inaccessible to children at the library. Arauza told them she believes parents are responsible for monitoring what their children are reading.

The commissioners said they wanted input on Arauza’s appointment from the community at a public forum scheduled for Wednesday evening in which Garfield County residents would be asked to share their thoughts in favor of or against restrictions to library materials.

“It’s frustrating because this shouldn’t be a political thing,” Arauza said in an interview. “It’s a non-political appointment to a volunteer position on the library board, but the heads of our county have made it political.”

Republican Commissioner Mike Samson noted during the meeting that Arauza’s husband, Steven Arauza, was running as a Democratic contender for Samson’s seat in the 2024 county commissioner election.

During Monday’s meeting, commissioners inquired whether the library board refusing to abide by county directives could meet the threshold to disband the entire library Board of Trustees.

The county attorney said library trustees could be removed under specific circumstances such as committing willful misconduct or negligence of duty.

“What they’re trying to do is say, ‘We told the library board what to do and we’re the presiding officers and, therefore, we have now given ourselves an excuse to fire the lot of them,’ LaRue said. “I would describe that as a political threat, as political intimidation.”

The commissioners apologized to Hanna Arauza at the conclusion of this portion of the meeting, saying they were sorry she was “caught in the crosshairs.”

During the meeting, the resident who made the original complaint against the Japanese graphic novels spoke and offered to show the public images from the books that he opposed.

“It makes me sad that something like these books we have had for over a year that no one read except for the person who requested them (have) become the focus of the life of the library,” LaRue said. “There’s a potential legal battle on the horizon, and for what? Protecting children they don’t have from books they haven’t read.”

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