Name of Victim: Arlie Pelton
Age of Victim: 56
Sex of Victim: Male
What Is This Testimony About: Other Institutional Betrayal
State: CO
Did the victim survive? No
Date of Death: 10/06/2020
Contact Name: Mary Haertling
Relationship to Victim: Girlfriend
Was the victim a military Veteran? No
Was the victim considered special needs, or did they have any kind of disability? No
Was the victim admitted to the hospital? No
Has this incident been reported to any agency such as VAERS, HHS, JACHO, CMS, Medical Board or others? Not reported because his children were poas, Given Morphine, Ativan
Place of Death: Home
Would you be interested in participating in podcasts or other media? Yes
Silenced at Home: The Quiet Killing of Arlie Pelton
Arlie Pelton was just 56 years old—a man in the prime of his life, with years still ahead of him. He was not in a hospital, not isolated behind locked doors or denied access to loved ones in a sterile ICU. He was in his own home. And yet, what happened to Arlie mirrors the same devastating patterns that have unfolded in countless stories across this country—patterns that raise serious and painful questions about how end-of-life care was used, and misused, during this time.
Mary Haertling, Arlie’s girlfriend, watched it unfold in real time. She wasn’t separated from him by hospital policies—she was there. And what she witnessed is something she can never unsee.
In early October 2020, Arlie’s condition declined, and decisions were made—decisions that would ultimately seal his fate. A Colorado Medical Orders for Scope of Treatment (MOST) form was put into place, designating him for comfort-focused treatment only. That meant no life-saving interventions. No escalation of care. No attempt to preserve life. Only measures intended to “keep him comfortable.”
But what does “comfort” truly mean when it is paired with aggressive sedation?
Mary began to notice the medications being administered: Morphine and Ativan. Not once. Not sparingly. But repeatedly, around the clock. The handwritten medication chart tells a haunting story—doses given early in the morning, again mid-day, again in the evening, and continuing into the night. On some days, doses were stacked within hours of each other. By October 5th, the frequency and timing paint a picture not of easing discomfort—but of deepening sedation.
These are powerful drugs. Morphine suppresses breathing. Ativan depresses the central nervous system. Together, they can quickly diminish a person’s ability to remain conscious… and ultimately, their ability to breathe.
Mary watched as Arlie slipped further and further away.
There was no meaningful discussion. No clear explanation of what these medications, given in this way, would do. No true informed consent that these combinations—at these intervals—could hasten death. Instead, it was presented under the familiar and trusted language of “comfort care.”
But Mary’s instincts told her something wasn’t right.
She watched a man who was alive—who was still there—become unresponsive. She watched as the doses continued. She watched as the light in him faded, not from a sudden event, but from a steady, chemical decline.
By October 6, 2020, Arlie Pelton was gone.
This was not a chaotic emergency. It was not a sudden, unavoidable tragedy. It was a process. A sequence. A series of actions that followed a pattern—one that too many families now recognize.
The use of early “comfort care” designations.
The reliance on heavy sedatives and opioids.
The absence of full transparency about what these interventions truly do.
The quiet, controlled environment where decline is expected—and accelerated.
Mary was there, and still, she was left with questions. Questions about whether Arlie was given a chance. Questions about whether he understood what was happening to him. Questions about whether his life could have been preserved if different choices had been made—or even offered.
This is what makes stories like Arlie’s so deeply painful. Even outside of a hospital setting, even in the presence of a loved one, the same elements of control, sedation, and lack of informed consent can exist. The same erosion of patient autonomy. The same quiet surrender of a life that may not have been ready to end.
These are not isolated incidents. They are part of a broader pattern of institutional betrayal—where systems entrusted to care for and protect patients instead operate in ways that leave families questioning everything they thought they could trust.
What happened to Arlie Pelton is not just a personal tragedy. It is part of a much larger story—one that demands to be told.
At Betrayal Project USA, stories like Mary’s are not dismissed or ignored. They are documented. Preserved. Amplified. Because these are not just stories—they are evidence. Evidence of what families witnessed. Evidence of patterns that must be examined. Evidence that raises urgent questions about accountability and reform.
Our organization was built by victims and survivors—people who have walked this same path of confusion, grief, and awakening. We know what it feels like to sense that something was wrong… and to be told otherwise. We know what it means to search for answers after it’s too late.
That is why we are committed to exposing these egregious crimes against humanity and ensuring they are never repeated. We are building a community where victims are heard, supported, and empowered to seek truth and justice.
Mary told Arlie’s story so that others might recognize the signs. So that fewer families would have to live with the same unanswered questions. So that what happened in quiet rooms—behind closed doors, under the label of “care”—can finally be brought into the light.
If you or a loved one has been harmed by COVID-related protocols, hospice policies, or other medical interventions, you are not alone. Your story matters.
Please document your experience at betrayalprojectusa.org and help us continue this critical work. Together, we are exposing the truth, demanding accountability, and fighting to ensure that no more lives are quietly taken under the guise of care.
