Children's Crossing

Across from a new business park lie the remnants of a children's state hospital. The buildings, mostly residential cottages and a larger clinic, are enveloped by a scenic forest with placid creeks.

The children who were sent here from across the country were mentally ill, had learning disabilities or came from severely dysfunctional families. Judging by the pamphlets about parental abuse scattered on the wards, this hospital was probably a welcome refuge for some of its patients. But the space was also shared with those prone to violence and sexual assaults.

The main building resembles a school more than a hospital. There is, for instance, a gym, where the smell of the last basketball game still lingers rather pungently.

None of the windows are covered with bars and yet the staff seemed unprepared for escapes. A court document shows that during the confusion of one particular getaway, a child was able to get hold of strong sedatives, which he used at once to attempt suicide. But the pills were not what killed him. He died from a botched administration of antidotes. Afterwards the administrators claimed not to have had adequate facilities for his medical care.

The hospital did have facilities to care for those who died on the premises. The morgue, set like an afterthought into an open passage, is just a few doors down from the cafeteria-size kitchen.

The trays, though used for children, are large enough for adults.

The outside door leading to the coolers and the kitchen stands wide open, allowing birds to fly in from the woods and make their nests in the empty room across from the morgue.