McLean was in college during the time of the Ragland fiasco. He says that he has "heard something about that."
When asked about one of the cases of a man's missing remains, McLean's eyes widen. "I may have him in my basement!"
photo: Alana Cundy
Tyrone Ragland was unprepared for what he found when he viewed his brother's corpse.
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Inside the refurbishedfuneral home, the macabre events that led to the Ragland lawsuit seem hard to imagine now. New maroon carpet covers the chapel floor. McLean sits behind a stately wooden desk that has been polished to a sheen. The business of death requires formal attire, and so McLean wears a black jacket and tie. McLean says business is slow, but with an average payment of $3,000 to $6,000 per funeral service, he is getting by. He suspects that Riverton's reputation is keeping him from being more successful at his new venture.
The old regime still lingers. Although McLean said Galloway is not employed by him and does not receive any income from Strivers Row Funeral Home, he says she still comes by in the evenings once in a while. Her friends and relatives use the front lobby of this sober establishment as a senior center, joking, snacking, and gossiping. They are the equivalent of teenagers hanging out on the stoop, only with canes and orthopedic shoes. McLean pauses at the sound of two elderly women cackling outside his office and lets out a tortured sigh.
The senior contingent out front are a reminder of the old place, and the fact that McLean cannot get away from either his family or the scores of angry people they left in their wake. Galloway, individually, and Riverton I and Riverton II still owe hundreds of thousands in damages to the families scarred by traumatic funerals, missing remains, and damaged corpses.
When he opened Strivers Row Funeral Home, "it was a mess," McLean admits. The cremated remains of 153 people were stored in the basement, never having been inventoried. Some have been there for up to eight years. McLean did find a box of remains labled with the name of the father of two sisters who sued. However, after four years of conflicting stories about what happened to their father's remains, they asked, "How do we even know that's our dad? I don't believe it."
The basement wasn't the only thing that was left in disarray.
When Timothy Davis died, he left many clients wondering what happened to the money they shelled out for their pre-paid funeral arrangements. According to state regulations, when a funeral home goes out of business, it must close out all pre-paid accounts either by giving refunds or transferring the accounts to another funeral home.
"That was not the case," McLean says. The money for the pre-paid arrangements simply disappeared. McLean says he has no idea where it could be, giving another silent shake of his head. He has already paid about $7,000 in legal fees and gone to small claims court four times to dispute charges that he is responsible for those accounts. Another court appearance is on the docket this month. "It's like going to McDonald's to ask for a refund from KFC," he says, exasperated. "I have no legal responsibility to it."
A crowd of former clients and lawyers are arguing that both McLean and Galloway should be held accountable: "We are going to claim, essentially, that it was a fraudulent transfer, which means [the Davis siblings] turned over everything to avoid payment of prior debts," says Edward Sivin, an attorney on one of the missing remains cases.
Galloway is also still in hot water. After being told that the funeral home went out of business, at least two families who are waiting to collect are going after Galloway's personal assets. Already a collections specialist is investigating Galloway to see what, if anything, can be squeezed out of her. Although she's been told that she might end up handcuffed in court, Galloway says she doesn't want to think about it.
"The little time I got to live, I don't want to wreck my brain with those things."
