A mother, a signature and a shutdown: The Waltmans’ five-year battle for answers

By Jen Schumann | Rocky Mountain Voice

In the photo Vira Waltman is 91, holding her great-granddaughter Everly. “She was joyful and funny,” said her granddaughter Lauren Tacheny. “She was teasing Everly about touching her Shirley Temple doll—that was her personality: protective, spunky and sharp-witted.”

Vira Jean Waltman with her great-granddaughter Everly, weeks before Colorado’s COVID-19 lockdown.

Up until the year before she died, Vira was still playing piano and organ at the All Saints Lutheran Church chapel in Brush every Christmas Eve service. “Music was everything to her,” said her grandson Ian Waltman.

A law that disappeared behind glass

For years, her son John Waltman carried his mother’s notarized Medical Durable Power of Attorney. “It was supposed to mean that we had decision making power for her medical care,” he said. “But the minute COVID hit, that signature meant nothing. After the first lockdown orders, The Good Samaritan – Bonnell community in Greeley, Colorado shut their doors to us  and violated our rights we possess as Power of Attorney.”

The call that changed everything

Vira Jean Waltman at the age of 67

On April 14, 2020, John answered a call from a man he’d never met—Chris, Vira’s attending physician at Good Samaritan Society–Bonell Community in Greeley. Chris initially asked if John had been contacted by The Good Samaritan staff concerning the worsening medical condition of Vira. 

John responded that he had not been contacted. Chris proceeded to inform John that  Vira was “in the worst condition of any of his patients currently under his care,” and asked permission to give Vira a very small dose of morphine to calm her enough to keep her oxygen mask on.

“We agreed, but only on a baby dose,” said Beth Waltman, a certified medical assistant with 35 years’ experience. “We told him her tolerance was low. He said, ‘Okay.’ Later we realized they gave her full doses. It is my belief that Vira’s attending physician Chris deliberately ordered Morphine for Vira to end her life.”

The Good Samaritan Society–Bonell Community, where Vira spent her final days, closed permanently in March 2022 after pandemic-related staffing shortages and declining resident numbers made continued operation unsustainable.

“It’s better to keep them a little dry”

Over the next week, the Waltman family watched a lifetime of medical and moral assurances dissolve into confusion. Nurses began calling John and Beth privately, warning that Vira was severely dehydrated and urging them to “beg the doctor to give her water.” 

“They’d call me while on-duty from inside the facility,” John said. “One of the floor nurses was very upset when she called us the day before mom succumbed to the end-of-life protocols saying, ‘She’s going to die if they don’t give her fluids.’”

In a series of text messages between John and Chris, the attending physician wrote, “Medical guidance on Covid states that having the patients mildly dehydrated increases survival.”

Those messages, sent near the end of Vira’s life, cited “COVID guidance” that, according to CDC’s archived clinical and professional guidance reviewed by Rocky Mountain Voice, contained no recommendation—explicit or implied—to restrict fluids or nutrition for COVID-19 patients (CDC Interim Guidance, April 3, 2020; CDC FAQ, March 30, 2020).

But Colorado’s Public Health Order 20-20 in March and April 2020 restricted visitation and required infection-control screening while also mandating alternative communication for families and access to necessary medical care, including all treatment ordered by a physician—even if provided by outside providers. Neither the state orders nor federal guidance mention withholding hydration or nutrition.

“To refuse water and nourishment and call it medical guidance is unbelievable,” Beth said. “If you refuse to feed or hydrate someone for six days, they’re going to die. They called it care.”

Desperate to see justice for the loss of his mother, John Waltman reported the facts concerning Vira’s death, hoping someone would finally investigate what happened. 

“I went down there multiple times,” he said. “I have been denied my right to file a criminal report of a crime by the Eaton and Greeley police departments, and refused help by the Weld County District Attorney’s office… all for political concerns,” the Waltman’s believe. “We have not been allowed to provide our evidence that we possess, supporting our claims of the criminal wrongful death of our mother and grandmother. We believe this behavior of denial by Colorado law enforcement is an obstruction of justice.”

The report that was eventually filed confirms that staff told Waltman the facility was “following CDC guidelines,” but no criminal case was ever opened.

The morphine decision

John and Beth agreed to a minimal dose of morphine.

By the next day, during a family Zoom call, granddaughter Allison Stratman witnessed the overdosing of Morphine by The Good Samaritan through observation of the incoherent state of Vira during the call. “She could not communicate with us at all during the Zoom call… she appeared to be trying to tell us something, then the aid said Vira was getting tired and ended the call.”

Ian, while on the same call, said his grandmother had been too sedated to respond. “The aid said Vira couldn’t swallow while unconscious, so they let the Morphine tablets dissolve in her mouth,” before adding, “She was so drugged she couldn’t talk.”

“Morphine is an opioid for pain, and hospice,” Beth said. “They could have increased her Xanax if she was anxious. But they took her off it entirely. Morphine wasn’t for anxiety—it was to quiet her.”

“They told us the morphine would help her keep the mask on,” John said. “It felt like obedience, not medicine.”

Beth Waltman questioned the decision to replace Xanax with morphine in a 2025 email.

Locked out of her care

By the time the Waltmans tried to intervene, Colorado’s emergency lockdown kept families out entirely. “If she was sick, let us take her home,” Beth said. “But the doors were locked. We couldn’t even walk her out.”

The family’s physician offered to assume her care. “Our family doctor said, ‘I’ll take her right now,’” John recalled. “Chris refused, said hospitals were full. But then-Congressman Greg Lopez told us they were at 50 percent capacity that week.” John still believes his mother could have been transferred.

Inside the facility, decisions about hydration, medication and end-of-life care were made by doctors employed by Summit Medical Consultants, under contract with Good Samaritan Society–Bonell Community.

The week everything ended

In the family’s notes, the final week of April 2020 unfolds day by day. On Saturday, April 11, a floor nurse told John his mother wasn’t feeling well and needed rest.

The next day brought the same answer—she was resting comfortably. By Tuesday, April 14, morphine had been authorized to help her keep her mask on. On Wednesday, April 15, the family joined a Zoom call and saw that Vira appeared sedated as a nurse placed morphine under her tongue. 

On Friday, April 17, nurse Jeremy called to say that Vira was severely dehydrated. John texted asking for his mother to receive IV fluids. Later that same evening, he received a text, “I did. He [Dr. Freitas] said the same thing I said to you. It’s better to keep them a little dry.” 

By Saturday, April 18, Vira Jean Waltman was gone.

The next day, Good Samaritan administrator Ryan Mertz sent a mass email to all families announcing that two residents had died from COVID-19. 

The paper trail and the system that looked away

Three days after Vira’s death, the Waltmans hired Bachus & Schanker, a Denver firm specializing in nursing-home cases. They sent everything—the texts, nurse notes and proof of Power of Attorney—and waited. Eighteen months later, the firm withdrew, citing an expert who could not certify a breach of standard of care, while adding, “This does not mean you do not have a valid claim.”

Around the same time, attorney Jaclyn Thompson confirmed that the family’s electronic medical records—a CD containing Vira’s charts and physician notes—had been overnighted by FedEx. “We were told by Medicare officials (Kepro) looking into our case that if we opened the evidence from Bachus & Schanker ourselves, it could become inadmissible evidence,” John said. “So it’s still sealed, just like the truth.”

After the firm’s withdrawal, the police closure and the Attorney General’s referral, the Waltmans began keeping their own case file—binders of letters, certified-mail receipts and email printouts labeled “URGENT — Request for Assistance in the Death of Our Mother.” They wrote to Ken Buck, Lauren Boebert, James Comer, John Hickenlooper and Michael Bennet. They reached out to CMS, CDPHE, the Weld County DA and the Colorado Attorney General.

When John emailed the Colorado Attorney General’s Office, the reply was short: “Our office is unable to provide you attorney referrals, please contact the Colorado Bar Association to find an attorney.”

“It’s always the same line,” John said. “Either they ‘don’t have jurisdiction’ or they ‘can’t provide legal advice.’ That’s the entire government’s version of ‘no comment.’”

John still keeps a notebook tracking every attempt. “Four police reports attempted, four rejections,” he said. “It’s the only part of this case that’s consistent. We were even denied an autopsy by the Morgan County Coroner, Don Heer, to prove the cause of death. We believe the cause of death for Vira was dehydration and Morphine overdose. We also believe the denial for an autopsy was, and is, illegal. In his written explanation of denial for an autopsy to be performed, Don Heer stated… ‘Pathologists have advised us that if COVID-19 is being considered they will NOT do autopsy due to exposure to body fluids that happens during autopsy.’” 

John recalled, “we asked Mr. Heer if he had anything in writing from the State of Colorado instructing him to deny our request for an autopsy. He admitted that he was misled by superiors concerning autopsies being forbidden, and that he had received nothing in writing from anyone concerning the denying of autopsies… he had been told to deny Covid-19 related autopsies verbally.”

In the transcript of John’s phone report with the Greeley Colorado PD, the Weld County Coroner Weiner (ME2) stated that she “has no idea as to what the CDC’s guidelines were at that time but they, Weld County, were still doing autopsies.”

Someone is hiding the truth.

“It’s like there’s an invisible policy protecting everyone who did nothing,” Beth said.

Vira Jean Waltman on her 90th birthday in 2018. 

What justice would look like

“We’re not asking simply for a judgment for the killing of our loved one,” John said. “We’re asking for acknowledgement and accountability—our mother was denied basic care, and  calling it ‘protocol’ doesn’t make it legal.”

“We just want the truth on record,” Beth said. “We want the state of Colorado to accept our report of a crime, conduct an investigation—and hold accountable those who broke the law. We have substantial evidence and we desperately need an attorney with the courage to help us.”

“She was a music teacher,” John said. He explained that teaching shaped his mother’s sense of integrity, decency and reverence for honesty. “She believed in truth. That’s what we’re still trying to teach our grown children as well.”

“We pray for justice for our loved one.”