Hillcrest Receiving Home

Hi,I stayed there in the mid 1980's. I met a beautiful girl named Verna R***. We, along with a 3rd girl (can't remember her name) ran away and went on a wild adventure. Unfortunately, on that adventure I got my first taste of hard drugs, which heavily impacted my later years. On our escape we switched clothes (to confuse police... ahhh, the minds of youth, lol). I ended up with Vernas "favorite" black and white cheetah print sweater, which I promised I'd return. Later on, we all got separated and I never saw her again. I searched for her, and kept her sweater into my late 30's, finally letting it go. Now in my early 50's, to stumble across this forum now is just so unexpected. Drug free over two decades, life has been hard, but God has been so Good! Verna, if you stumble across this as well, Thank you for being so kind to me, at a time that I didn't know what kindness was. I'm sorry I eventually gave up your sweater, but if I ever see you I'll buy you another. Even though our time was very short lived, I will never forget how you, as a complete stranger, cared for me when I literally had nothing or no-one. To all you other fellow "inmates", Thank you for the stories. I hope all of you found your ways through the darknesses that led you there. If you are still struggling please know you are in more hearts and prayers then you may be aware of. Keep truckin, you can get through it. Hearts and Smiles,Priscilla

This is super fascinating. My brother and I went to this place when I was 5, and he was 4 in a wheelchair, (he'd had his leg broken from being run over by a car)It was 1981 and our mother was in no condition to raise us and the state was contacting our father in Texas to see if he wanted custody. Thankfully, our stay at Hillcrest was short. We were separated from each other. I think I was always getting out of my crib, so they stuck me in one that had a lid that screwed on that I couldn't get out of. That was torture. I remember eating spinach, and vomiting, so that I could get the ice cream in the little cups with the little wooden spoons. I remember watching Mr. Rogers and being thankful for the peaceful feeling it gave me.. It's so nice to bring these old memories back to reality! They really happened! Thanks for the validation,

My name is Thomas I have a younger brother named James we were placed into the Hillcrest receiving home during the '80s and '90s because at that period in our life our mother was undergoing some personal issues that the state determined her unfit to be a parent. I have many memories, a majority of them unclear and foggy of my stay in this place. I remember it as being a place of some minor Joy but a lot of sadness. If there are others of you in this group who remember me and my brother James and can help clarify some memories and reestablish some friendships I would love that. I look forward to hearing from any and all of you about this and I thank you for your time.

My name is Kay, although I didn’t go by that name when I was at Hillcrest. I was there maybe 88,89,90, maybe 1 or all those years, I don’t remember.Sorry to say that I don’t really have any great memories at Hillcrest. What I do remember was having to go to school in those trailers on the property, I graduated to 10th grade there. One night, we slid down that hill so that we could run away, just me and another girl. We ended up in Logan Heights and hung around there for I don’t know how long. I remember that we were standing against a building on the corner of Third and Imperial when a patrol car stopped in front of us. The officer looked at a picture in his hand and looked at us then proceeded to get out of the car. We ran so fast, I scaled a fence so fast somehow. We separated until we found each other again later that day.We spent a lot of time together, I don’t remember her name, but I’m pretty sure it started with a C. We hung around each other every day and did what we could to survive. One night, we went to Horton Plaza and slept on the lawn across the street from it. Other nights we stayed wherever we could, under a bridge, wherever. Some days, we would share one giant snickers bar and that’s all we would have to eat that day. I definitely toughened up there and that’s where I learned how to fight and man, I got into so many fights. We eventually got separated, and I ended up staying in a motel room with a much older man because he promised me drugs. That night, I woke up to him sitting on the side of my bed, wanting to sleep with me. Luckily, he listened when I said no and didn’t force it. Shortly after, the cops knocked on the door because the front desk person said that we didn’t pay for the room. The man produced the receipt for them, and they left. They didn’t think to ask why he was with a 13–14-year-old girl. The day I got caught and was sent back to Hillcrest, I remember being brought back from running away and having to sleep under my bed because as I entered my room, my name was written all over the walls and all of them were crossed off. I knew what that meant but didn’t know who did it. So I slept under my bed, petrified that somebody was going to shoot me through the window.So many stories and so many experiences, I am shocked that I made it through, made something of myself and even raised a good human. I don’t know if anyone will see this, but we made it. We did it!

This is an interesting find. I was in HRH multiple times. The first time was in 1988. The first time was not that bad but the more I returned the worse I got treated eventually. Not by the staff. By the other kids. After being taken from my mother I suffered a mental health crisis. No one really took notice of the signs until the second time I was placed in HRH. After some kids did what could be considered a hazing ritual I tried to hurt myself and others. I was then placed in a mental hospital called CMH(County Mental Health). Where I stayed for months. I was placed back at HRH for a few days and was transferred to CATC. I stayed in CATC for about a year and a half. Then finally got in my first stable foster home. I wanted them to adopt me. I still have contact with the foster family now. My foster mothers name was Jean Fulcher. She gave me a chance even with my past. She protected me from my birth mother. And although my birth mother somehow kept my foster mother from being able to adopt me, she was always a part of my life until her death last year. My foster family always had a humorous way of reminding me how smart and talented I was. The only positive part of the HRH experience for me is the fact I eventually was taken in by this family. I found this site when looking to see if the place is still standing. Its being turned into a behavioral health hub. It's about time.