SWFL.io - Local NewsMARY CLAIRE MOLLOY/Mirror Indy - Mirror Indy
•6/23/2026
Adilah Patton went to the emergency room at Eskenazi Health. After being discharged, the 21-year-old spent the night in the waiting room.
It was January 2018. Patton was trying to stay warm that winter; the temperature outside was 34 degrees and she had no home of her own.
Hospital police arrested her for trespassing.
Eskenazi’s officers wrote in their report that Patton had previously caused “a disturbance” at the hospital by loitering. They gave her another trespass card with orders: unless seeking medical treatment, stay away.
“Eskenazi was her safe space,” said Patton’s mother, Ebony Chisholm. “I took her there so many times for mental health evaluations. I wanted help getting her committed.”
But the family said Eskenazi didn’t help. Instead, the city’s lone public hospital put their daughter in handcuffs.
Eskenazi Health declined to comment on Patton’s case, citing a patient privacy law. But what happened to the Indianapolis woman isn’t unique: Records from the past five years show the hospital’s police force arrested someone, on average, every two to three days. Eskenazi’s leadership said a police force is necessary to protect staff and patients. “Arrest is the last resort,” said spokesperson Todd Harper.
Still, from 2020 to 2025, Eskenazi officers made more than 800 arrests. According to a Mirror Indy analysis of the hospital’s records, a majority of people were arrested for non-violent offenses. Many records cited multiple offenses that led to an arrest, but the most frequent were misdemeanors: disorderly conduct, criminal trespass and resisting law enforcement.
And experts say these types of incidents — especially in healthcare settings — often indicate mental health issues.
“When people aren’t responding to orders or behaving rationally, police can view these behaviors as illegal rather than symptoms of an illness,” said Dr. Ruth Shim, a professor at the University of California, Davis who treats patients with psychosis. “The person will end up in jail instead of getting the treatment they need.”
That’s what happened to Patton.
The Indianapolis woman has been diagnosed with schizophrenia. She has been arrested more than 30 times for criminal trespass.
After giving birth to her first child at Eskenazi, Patton lost custody and became homeless. She haunted the city’s parking garages, hotels, convention center, malls and hospitals, often looking for help or a place to sleep.
But no one wanted to see her. Most banned her from their properties.
Each incident was another stop in an endless cycle that led to the same place: a jail cell.
In an interview with Mirror Indy, Eskenazi’s leaders said they did not track what happens to people like Patton after they’ve been arrested by hospital police — including whether a person was charged by the Prosecutor’s Office, convicted of a crime or simply released. That raises questions about whether an arrest was the appropriate response in each case.
Patton’s case represents larger issues communities across the country are grappling with, including access to mental health treatment, workplace violence and the role of police in both.
In 2013, Indiana allowed hospitals to form their own police departments — joining more than two dozen other states with similar laws. It was a response to rising violence against nurses and doctors nationwide.
In the wake of 2020 protests against police brutality, officials in Indianapolis and other cities have invested in alternatives to police — highlighting a national discussion about whether officers are the best response to people in crisis. But, after many state psychiatric institutions closed in the 1990s, there’s also a shortage of mental health providers.
The question remains: where are people in crisis supposed to go?
Chisholm, Patton’s mother, said Eskenazi was the family’s first answer. The public hospital’s mission includes caring and advocating for “the vulnerable populations of Marion County.”
But, Chisholm said, staff at Eskenazi failed her daughter the most.
“They just looked at Adilah and made her get out,” Chisholm said. “They knew she was a paranoid schizophrenic and they didn’t care.”
In an interview with Mirror Indy, Eskenazi leadership said less than 1% of the hospital’s police runs in 2025 ended in arrest. They said the hospital’s officers had about 59,000 runs that year — everything from directing traffic to responding to staff pressing panic buttons.
Harper, the spokesperson, said Eskenazi’s officers “put patient care first” and undergo training for de-escalating situations and responding to mental health issues. Medical staff also receive training for workplace violence prevention and connect patients to mental health services.
Additionally, Eskenazi has a team responding to crises inside the hospital. Psychiatrists and mental health clinicians evaluate and treat patients who display signs of anxiety, aggression or psychosis. Last year, the team was used 26 times.
“There are multiple interactions and opportunities to get somebody de-escalated before anybody would even call security,” said Tracy Martin, Eskenazi Health’s chief nursing officer. “That’s not a first line of defense.”
But, according to the Marion County sheriff, arrests were still happening too often.
For years, the Sheriff’s Office partnered with Eskenazi to train the hospital’s officers and grant them limited law-enforcement authority. In January, Sheriff Kerry Forestal announced he was ending the special deputy program. In an interview with Mirror Indy, he cited concerns about officers at Eskenazi “putting hands” on patients experiencing mental illness.
“I don’t think law enforcement needs to be involved in healthcare,” Forestal said. “You can’t solve everything by arresting someone.”
Eskenazi Health declined to comment on the sheriff’s concerns.
As the partnership with the hospital wound down, the Sheriff’s Office started reviewing arrests at Eskenazi before accepting someone into the jail. The goal was to provide more oversight.
Ultimately, some arrests were not pursued. The Sheriff’s Office, a spokesperson said, asked Eskenazi to stop prioritizing lower-level offenses, including trespassing cases.
The hospital’s officers, Foresteal said, need to “think a second time before they quickly pull out the handcuffs.”
Under the Sheriff’s Office, Eskenazi Health had 98 officers — a force the same size of entire cities, including the police departments for Muncie and Mishawaka.
After the separation, the hospital’s parent organization formed its own independent police department and added about a dozen new hires.
Now named the Health and Hospital Corporation Police Department, the force has 117 officers who rotate handling security for Eskenazi’s main campus, the hospital’s affiliated clinics, the Marion County Public Health Department and Indianapolis Emergency Medical Services. Officers are trained through the Indiana Law Enforcement Academy.
This year’s projected security budget is $9.6 million. Eskenazi Health’s spokesperson said about 5% of the Health and Hospital Corporation’s budget comes from property taxes, but was unsure how many tax dollars, if any, pay for the hospital’s police force.
Every day, about a dozen officers patrol Eskenazi Health’s 1.3 million square foot hospital campus, which sees more than a million outpatient visits each year.
Records from the past five years provided by Eskenazi Health show about 90% of arrests happened on the hospital’s main campus or the roads adjacent to it. A fraction were scattered across the city at Eskenazi’s affiliate locations — primary care and mental health centers, the Assessment and Intervention Center and a residential home for people in recovery for mental illness and substance abuse.
The reports show how hospital officers are being used to manage disputes and disturbances — often over patient care, homelessness and mental health crises.
For example, on Jan. 25, 2020, officers arrested someone lying on the ground in the parking lot. They had been discharged from the hospital, according to Eskenazi, and refused to leave.
Less than a month later, on Feb. 16, 2020, a person was arrested for sleeping in an “unauthorized area.” They’d been arrested for trespassing at the hospital before.
On July 7, 2022, officers arrested someone for yelling in the ER. They were “disrupting patients and staff,” according to records, and refused to “lower their voice.”
On March 29, 2025, officers arrested a person for calling 911 “without a reason.” The incident was listed as occurring at the hospital’s address. Eskenazi cited an Indiana law meant to curb misuse of emergency services.
Eskenazi leadership did not specifically answer questions about trends in arrests or cases. “I don’t know the context,” Martin, the head of nursing, told Mirror Indy. “I don’t know what the officer experienced.”
Some incidents escalated further, according to Eskenazi’s description in records, with violence. They often began when someone was asked to leave and resisted police.
In about 14% of arrests, there were reports of battery against hospital police. Only one of these cases, according to records, caused injuries that required emergency medical attention.
A smaller share of arrests — about 4% — involved physical attacks against nurses, doctors and medics. Those cases included allegations of hospital staff being punched, scratched, choked, spit on or sexually assaulted.
In another 4% of incidents, officers responded to reports of patients, visitors or bystanders physically attacking each other.
In a few cases, reports cited multiple victims — such as medical staff and officers being attacked in the same incident.
Altogether, about 77% of the arrests were for non-violent offenses. Those include property damage, traffic violations, threats, substance abuse, public indecency, theft, disorderly conduct, trespassing and resisting law enforcement.
“If we got to that last resort,” said Martin, Eskenazi’s chief nursing officer, “then I’m very confident that they tried everything else.”
Eskenazi Health redacted the names of people arrested in the records they provided Mirror Indy, making it difficult to know what happened afterward — including if someone was charged or convicted of a crime. They also declined to provide a roster of officers.
The hospital cited the Health Insurance Portability and Accountability Act, a federal law that prohibits the release of patient medical information. “Individuals encountered by law enforcement within our facilities may be patients, visitors or others seeking care,” a spokesperson for Eskenazi Health said in an April 8 email. “Revealing their names could directly or indirectly disclose protected health information.”
An attorney interviewed by Mirror Indy, however, cited Indiana’s public records law, which requires agencies to disclose arrest information.
“Arrest records do not fall under HIPPA,” said Steve Key, the former executive director and general counsel for the Hoosier State Press Association. “When you reach the point that someone has been accused of something serious enough for police to arrest them, that incident is not a medical record. It’s an arrest record with publicly available information.”
He continued: “As a country, we are opposed to secret arrests, so the information should be made available.”
Ji Seon Song is an assistant law professor at The University of California, Irvine who studies police in healthcare settings. She also questioned Eskenazi’s decision to withhold the names of people arrested.
“Hospitals shouldn’t be able to hide behind privacy laws meant to protect patients,” Song said. “Especially if public dollars are being used to police patients that are coming to them for care.”
Mirror Indy has requested information on charges related to arrests at Eskenazi Health from the Marion County Prosecutor’s Office.
Mirror Indy has also requested jail bookings linked to arrests at Eskenazi Health from the Marion County Sheriff’s Office, and the names of Eskenazi’s officers.
The Marion County Prosecutor’s Office did not respond to questions about hospital arrests.
An October 2025 presentation on security at Eskenazi Health painted a picture of a hospital under siege.
“Workplace safety is one of the greatest risks facing our corporation,” Dr. Lisa Harris, the CEO of Eskenazi Health, told board members at a Health and Hospital Corporation meeting. “We recognize our security team as our patient safety heroes.”
At the meeting, Martin, the chief nursing officer of Eskenazi Health, described rising incidents after the pandemic.
“It’s not uncommon for someone in the ER to pick up a chair, stool, or computer and throw it at someone,” she said. “Our risk department reviews patients who demonstrate consistent disruptive and aggressive behavior. We can put a flag in their chart.”
The hospital’s security budget has grown in the last six years by about 150%. Outside of officer salaries, it also covers new equipment — including metal detectors.
Martin’s PowerPoint displayed pictures of guns, knives, lighters and scissors confiscated by officers manning Eskenazi’s entrances. A graphic counted the 2,200 panic buttons and 837 security cameras on the property.
At one point during the presentation, Martin held up a spit hood.
This see-through, lightweight sack is often used by jails. It’s placed over someone’s head to prevent biting or spitting. A Seattle Times investigation found the devices, which can cause suffocation, were associated with at least five patient deaths nationwide in medical settings. An Eskenazi spokesperson said the hospital’s use of spit hoods is “extremely infrequent” and reserved for situations where a person is at “the highest level of escalation possible.”
“When a patient is spitting, we may place a spit hood on them,” Martin said during her presentation. “That’s one way we are trying to keep our staff safe.”
Experts, though, warned that vulnerable people are getting caught up in police overreach — and the presence of officers at the hospital can escalate situations.
“This just sounds like a jail,” said Song, the assistant law professor. “Workplace violence concerns are valid, but automatically assuming every patient is dangerous creates an environment of policing and surveillance, not health and healing.”
Shim, the psychiatrist based in California, said there’s a longstanding misconception that people with mental illness are more prone to violence. Research shows they’re actually more likely to be victims of it.
“It’s really traumatic for someone to be arrested because of their mental illness,” Shim said. “They’re going to associate getting help with punishment.”
Dr. Ashley Overley, the CEO of Sandra Eskenazi Mental Health Center, said the hospital’s security and staff are not stigmatizing people.
“We work very hard to make sure everyone is trained and recognizes the signs of mental illness,” she said. “That does not preclude the potential for an appropriate arrest.”
Overley acknowledged that there’s a national issue with people being criminalized for mental illness and homelessness. But, she said, the problem is not specific to Eskenazi.
“There’s no simple solution,” Overley said. “It’s a more complicated issue than ‘just don’t arrest people.’”
When asked about these issues and the frequency of arrests, the top leader of the Health and Hospital Corporation of Marion County, which manages Eskenazi Health, didn’t seem surprised.
“We take care of vulnerable people,” CEO Paul Babcock said during a September 2025 meeting with Mirror Indy reporters. “Our job is to take care of them, but also make sure we keep our staff safe. And we’re always going to do that in a way that is dignified and appropriate based on the situation.”
That answer wasn’t satisfying to the family of Adilah Patton, the Indianapolis woman arrested several times at Eskenazi while struggling with schizophrenia.
“They are criminalizing people for mental illness,” said Chisholm, Patton’s mother. “My daughter wasn’t treated with dignity. She was completely dismissed.”
Patton kept showing up at Eskenazi for a reason.
Alexis Watts would drive through downtown looking for her cousin. Her childhood memories slowly stopped matching the person she found.
“Adilah wanted to learn to do hair,” Watts said. “She wanted her high school diploma. She wanted to be a mother.”
Patton, who once lovingly labored over style and fashion, was increasingly marked by illness: her hair was matted, and sometimes she wore only a hospital gown.
One day, the family found her pregnant. They do not believe she had the capacity to consent.
“She was raped on the streets,” Watts said. “If I were in her shoes, I would’ve kept showing up at the hospital, too.”
After the assault, Patton received care at Eskenazi for her pregnancy. She was in jail at the time, but went to Eskenazi to give birth to her second child.
All told, Patton spent more than 800 days in jail for criminal trespass. That’s more than two years of her life.
The misdemeanor charges stemmed from Patton’s arrests at Eskenazi and dozens of others at locations across the city. Some cases became felonies when she kept returning to the same properties — a sign, experts said, of her worsening symptoms. She was also arrested at Eskenazi a second time for stealing another woman’s formula and diapers.
Taxpayer dollars covered the daily costs to keep Patton locked up for the various trespassing charges. In the end, the county appears to have spent more than $60,000 on her jail time, based on the daily costs to hold inmates.
Eventually, the Marion County Sheriff’s Office petitioned a court to give Patton a guardian — someone who manages finances, medical care and other decisions for a person who is incapacitated. The Center for At-Risk Elders was appointed.
Patton’s family said they were not included in this process.
Things came to a head in June 2022. In a court filing, Patton’s guardian said medical staff at the Marion County Jail held Patton down, dislocated her thumb and injected an antipsychotic drug against her will. A federal lawsuit over civil rights violations was resolved in 2025. The Sheriff’s Office said there was no monetary settlement, but the jail now checks records to see if an inmate has a court-appointed guardian.
Now, Patton is under the care of a state psychiatric hospital in Richmond.
“The world sees a crazy person, but it’s her trauma,” Watts said. “Adilah is not a bad person. She has a family that loves her. And she’s been failed by multiple systems.”
Sometimes, Watts drives to visit her cousin. She’ll bring along food, or Skittles from the gas station.
Patton once asked her to bring a black wig next time. She wants to do her hair nice again. Sometimes, she wonders aloud about the two babies she had and where they are. On a good day, and with the right medication, Patton’s almost back to herself.
“You know I was looking for you right?” Watts asked during one visit.
“Yeah?” Patton replied.
“I found out you were here. This isn’t the ideal place, but you’re safe. You’re not on the street. That’s no place for you.”
“I know,” Patton said.
They hugged for the first time in years. Patton’s eyes filled with tears.
This story was originally published by Mirror Indy and distributed through a partnership with The Associated Press.