At a young age, he lost his father to prison and later, to cancer. When he was 16, his mother was kidnapped and murdered while working in Belize.

Now, the 19-year-old may be torn from one or both of the only anchors in his life: South Salt Lake's Hartvigsen High School for the developmentally disabled and his legal guardian, Rod Mitchell.

Mitchell recently lost his job and is considering returning with Prothro to Oklahoma, their mutual birthplace.

Prothro's uncertainty is a plight shared by many of the 2,225 low- and middle-income Utahns on the waiting list for disabled services. About 95 percent qualify for Medicaid, which pays to permanently place the disabled in settings similar to nursing homes.

But institutionalization is an unthinkable option for those, like Prothro, who are on the path to living something closer to a normal life.

Prothro has cerebral palsy. Teachers say he has the IQ of a 12th-grader and aspirations of going to law school. But without the aid of a special computer, he cannot communicate. Unable to walk, bathe, dress or take himself to the toilet, he is wholly reliant on Mitchell.

In turn, Mitchell relies on the expertise and respite provided by teachers at Hartvigsen, who, using the latest in therapeutic technology, protect Prothro's body and mind from atrophy.

"He is secure here, and making great strides," says his teacher Barbara Hegland. "If he were to leave, his health would deteriorate."

Prothro becomes agitated even discussing the idea. Hegland says he vividly remembers the last time he was torn from school.

It was 2002, and times were tight for Mitchell and his girlfriend, Prothro's Brazilian mother, Sandy. The couple had moved to Utah in 1994, because "as limited as services are in Utah, it's worse in Oklahoma," says Mitchell.

But money was short, so Sandy left for Belize, hoping to improve her employment prospects. Conditions in Brazil were unsuitable for Prothro, so Mitchell took him back to Oklahoma, where they spent two years before joining Sandy.

Mitchell gets choked up, offering scant details about what happened next, other than to say Sandy was murdered. So he assumed legal custody of Prothro.

"Everyone who meets him falls for him. He's the sweetest, most loving person I've ever known. The reason I have Neal is selfishness. He makes me a lot happier," says Mitchell.

Caring for a severely disabled child is expensive. Prothro has undergone surgeries to

improve his flexibility.

Wheelchairs don't come cheap, nor does keeping him in diapers.

When personal disaster struck - the layoff that cost Mitchell his job - there wasn't enough money left over to keep the family afloat.

With his unemployment running out next week, Mitchell is on the verge of homelessness. Unless he finds a job or gets some help, he will have no choice but to return with Prothro to Oklahoma, where they can live rent-free with Mitchell's elderly parents.

"I was shocked that this didn't push them into [state human] services," says Deb Bowman, who works for the ARC of Utah, an advocacy group for the disabled. "It's disgusting, really. They put families in crisis before they can get any help, and by then it's often too late."

A Wyoming-based trucking company has offered Mitchell a decent-paying job with workable hours, but Mitchell failed the required physical evaluation because of his high blood pressure.

"I'm 57 [years old] and 400 pounds. I've lost 45, but I need to lose more, not just for the job. I need to live longer for Prothro," says Mitchell.

In a race against time, he is marching ahead with the job search and his diet, and says, "We'll be OK. This is harder on him than it is me. But I feel like I'm letting him down."

kstewart@sltrib.com

The ARC of Utah has set up a fund for Mitchell and Prothro to tide them over during the holidays. The nonprofit advocacy group also is accepting donations to its Christmas-maker program, which delivers gifts to institutionalized and low-income children and adults with developmental disabilities, such as mental retardation or cerebral palsy.

The most requested items are winter clothing, household items, music and puzzles.

For information on how to donate, call 364-5060 or visit www.arcutah.org.