This is my testimonial of the horrifically unethical treatment of children with ASD at a place that used to be in Idaho.

The Intermountain Center for Autism and Child Development operated in Meridian Idaho in the early 2000s and closed sometime in 2010 I believe. It was owned and operated by Dr Tyler T Whitney, PsyD. It was not a 24-hour treatment center but rather, an office complex with many rooms, enough so that a small private school would open in the location after ICACD closed. There were a couple regular “doctor” type offices, as well as a larger “activity room.” There were also 3 different rooms. There was the “blue room,” the “yellow room,” and the “red room.” Each of these rooms had their walls and floors painted in their respective colors, Inside each of these rooms were usually a bean bag or two, some toys, maybe a swing hanging from the ceiling, etc. One thing all three of these rooms had in common was a one-way window that you couldn’t see through. Next to each of these weird “color rooms” was a viewing room where you could look through the one way window and see into whatever room’s observation room you were in. The red room had an observation room, as did the yellow and blue room. All 3 viewing rooms also had a camera with a tripod on which our sessions would be recorded (presumably.) It reminded me of some kind of “lab rat” experiment.

I was taken to this center when I was about 7 years old, and would have weekly sessions here. I hated every minute of being there. I don’t remember every single detail being there, but I do know of some memorable sessions. The first one being Valentine's day in 2007. We were in the Red Room. It was me, Dr Whitney, another kid I will just call A, for privacy sake. Our parents were also present in the room. Dr Whitney activated a “shock ball” toy (similar to one you’d see at Spencer’s) and passed it to A. He started panicking and threw it back to him, screaming “I don’t want to get shocked!” Dr Whitney then told us about the game we were going to play, brought out a Twister mat. He said we were going to play Twister. He said that if you couldn’t do the move, you had to either hold the shock ball, or get “squished” by the bean bag underneath the weight of every adult in the room. This session quickly devolved into chaos as the screaming became too much to handle. Afraid of being shocked, I always opted for the “squishing.” A and I were both bawling, screaming, and panicking while Dr Whitney, as well as the other adults in the room, including ,my father, chuckled and acted like it was normal. These sessions were often indefinite. Some lasted one hour, others lasted the entire evening. I think about it every Valentine’s day to this day.

When I would ask my dad why I was going, he would say “It’s to help you learn to get through things without breaking down.” I would beg my parents to take me out of there, and often cry on my way there. But they weren’t having it.

Another time involved the use of texture aversion. This time wasn’t with Dr. Whitney, but one of his assistants, Troy. He got a large bucket, filling it with water, applesauce, wet croutons, and other “gross” things, like bread. He then dumped some small toys, like Hot Wheels, into the bucket. Me and one other kid had to wear a blindfold and stick our hands into this bucket and pull out the toys.

A separate session involved playing with mealworms, playing some kind of game (I don’t remember) and if you lost on your turn, you had to put a mealworm somewhere on your body. Dr. Whitney even threatened, or alluded to, making A (from earlier incident) put one on his braces. It was truly disgusting.

I also overheard Dr. Whitney talking about another game, getting new diapers, filling them with mushed-up candy bars, hiding a gold chocolate coin in that mess somewhere, having the kids hold their hands behind their backs and use their faces to try and find the chocolate coin.

I’m not sure if this was ABA or otherwise some kind of exposure therapy, or both

There were several other employees who worked there who would do things to either provoke or aggravate these kids, including myself. One “therapist” walked by me in the waiting room and asked me, “wanna see my froggy?” I replied that I did, thinking she had a pet frog in her office or something. She then threw a vibrating frog pillow thing at me. The lady at the front desk saw me one day when I came in crying. I said “I’m not feeling chatty,” when she asked me how I was or something. She responded with “but you’re being chatty right now.” We went back and forth and it just made me cry more.

I was ultimately pulled out around my 3rd grade year. I learned from a therapist maybe 10 years later that he was highly questionable in the psychology community locally. He eventually lost his license in the state due to violating ethics in billing.

In looking at his resume online, it appears that he went on to work for other notorious troubled teen programs, such as Copper Hills Youth Center in Utah. He appears to be practicing in Georgia now.