In August, we invited readers to submit ethical turkeys for consideration by the Gift Planning in Canada Ethics Squad, promising to award a real Thanksgiving turkey on behalf of the best entry (or the worst, depending on your perspective).
Thanks to all the readers who sent us their turkeys. We are pleased to announce a tie for first place! The winning dilemmas appear below, with the Squad’s response to one in this issue; the second will appear next month.
The selection process ran through Thanksgiving, so turkeys will go to the food banks chosen by our winners in time for Christmas/Hanukkah/Kwanzaa.
October’s prize turkey
“I previously worked for a foundation where all bequest gifts were to be endowed in perpetuity. The program was marketed this way in print for both donors and the lawyers creating the bequest gifts. Many bequests included the name of the endowment fund, and donor discussion and presentations talked about perpetuating the donor’s annual gift. After the foundation was named in the will, stewardship discussions with donors would often centre on the importance to them that their gift be held in perpetuity.
“There were key staffing changes and new board members arrived after I had left the employ of the foundation. The board changed their policies around holding all bequest gifts in perpetuity, deciding to hold all endowment gifts for the minimum period of ten years under trust law. Even if the name of the endowment fund was present in the will clause, unless the actual words “to be held in perpetuity” were present, the endowed capital was spent at the end of the ten year period.
“They went back and looked at the bequests received in the past to see if they included the ‘perpetuity clause’ in them; if not, the funds were yanked after nine years and 364 days.”
- Furious with the Foundation
November’s turkey
“This year, shortly before leaving on holidays, I received a call from an elderly donor who wanted to rewrite his will. Having just moved into a new apartment, he was lonely and seemed deeply depressed. I was concerned and encouraged him to share these feelings with his doctor at an upcoming appointment.
“Upon returning from my holidays, I was unable to reach him by phone. Imagining the worst, I eventually tracked him down in the local hospital.
“Here is where things get a little more complicated. Because he had no friends and family to call upon, this donor had been unable to brush his teeth or clip his nails for over two weeks. As well, he had been traumatized by being trapped in his apartment while waiting for emergency crews to find a way to reach him. He was clearly frightened by the thought of ever revisiting his apartment.
“Eventually, he (and the lawyer who we shared) convinced me to take his keys, check his mail and bring him some personal items. I wasn’t able to take anyone with me, and so I went alone. While in his apartment I found a draft suicide note.
“At this point I spoke to the hospital’s social worker about my concerns. She already knew about me from the donor, and kept saying what a relief it was that I was involved and how much I meant to the donor. I had clearly become the donor’s closest friend and the cornerstone of his support network.
“Sadly, the donor died in hospital two weeks after signing his will. The doctor and nurses were surprised to lose such a healthy patient, but I understood. I’m haunted by what could have gone wrong, but am relieved that he didn’t die alone or take his own life. I am also comforted by memories of our friendship and by the words of our lawyer who said, ‘I believe he died a happy man.’
“Here are my ethical questions:
Sensing that something was amiss on my first visit, is there someone I should have contacted to ensure that the donor’s mental health needs were being met?
The lawyer, the social worker and the donor were all greatly appreciative that I had gone to his apartment, but was this the right thing to do?
Where and how do I draw the line between my personal and professional roles?”
- Where is the Line?
