Who Owns the Dead?

Who "Owns" The Dead?

Most Americans agree a cemetery is more than land—it is a sacred place for the living to honor the dead, preserve space for mourning and remembrance, respect cultural traditions, and safeguard the trust placed in it by families who have laid their loved ones to rest.

At Lakeside Cemetery in Erie, Pennsylvania, that promise has been broken. In just six months under opaque private for-profit ownership, the grounds have been neglected, headstones mistreated, gravesites misidentified, and grieving families have reported being harassed, threatened, or even physically assaulted by staff. Religious and civic holidays of deep cultural importance have passed without even basic preparation. These failures are not only emotionally devastating—they represent serious breaches of legal agreements, industry standards, and the fundamental dignity owed to the dead and their families. The situation offers a stark reminder of what is lost when consecrated ground is reduced to commercial property.

Founded in 1896, Lakeside Cemetery is now owned and operated by a private, for-profit entity—Lakeside Cemetery and Cremation Gardens Association LLC—that is failing to honor its contractual obligations to those laid to rest there. By several accounts, the business’s unqualified, family-run staff are not only ignoring essential duties but also actively violating families’ rights to grieve in peace. Lakeside LLC is not the cemetery itself. It is not a charity, nor a volunteer organization. It is a family-owned for-profit business run by individuals whose lack of professionalism and experience renders them wholly unfit to carry out such a solemn task.

Cemetery Governance Models: Public, Private, and For-Profit

In the US, cemeteries generally fall into four broad categories: public, private-religious, private-nonprofit, and private-for-profit—each defined by distinct ownership structures and subject to different regulatory frameworks. 

• Public Cemeteries—such as national veterans’ cemeteries or those run by municipal, county, or state governments—are typically open to the general public, maintained by government agencies, and supported in whole by public funds.

• Private-Religious Cemeteries are typically owned and operated by churches or religious organizations. 

• Private-Nonprofit Cemeteries, such as those managed by community associations or cemetery corporations (like the Erie Cemetery Association), are organized under the state’s nonprofit corporation laws. 

While the land in both religious and private nonprofit cemeteries is indeed privately owned, it generally operates without a profit motive, remains accountable to its governing body, and is legally obligated to reinvest proceeds into operations, and grounds upkeep. Any effort to sell or alter the use of cemetery land typically requires approval from the Orphans' Court.

By contrast, Private-For-Profit Cemeteries are owned by individuals or corporations, with the land and operations treated as commercial assets. These cemeteries operate as businesses, generating revenue through the sale of burial plots, service fees, and ongoing maintenance charges. 

Some states, such as New York, outright prohibit this ownership model to safeguard public interest and ensure accountability. Other states—including Illinois, Minnesota, and California—permit For-Profit cemeteries but impose strict licensure and regulatory requirements. 

Pennsylvania, however, places minimal restrictions on for-profit cemetery ownership. These cemeteries are classified as private real estate and can be bought or sold like any commercial property—even when the land contains historic graves, or the remains of thousands of family members across generations. Oversight falls loosely under the Pennsylvania Real Estate Commission

Bad Business: When Private Cemeteries Go Unchecked

Lakeside LLC's operation shows multiple red flags common to failing private cemeteries across Pennsylvania: severely neglected grounds (even during major holidays), tax seizures, unaccounted-for perpetual care funds, and repeated changes in leadership. These patterns have previously surfaced at Oak Lawn Cemetery in Gettysburg and at Mount Moriah and Mount Peace Cemeteries in Philadelphia, where government intervention became necessary to preserve the sanctity of the sites and protect those buried there.

These problems go beyond apathy or mismanagement. They are the direct result of how Pennsylvania law treats for-profit cemeteries: as private real estate that can be bought, sold, or flipped like any other property. Unlike states such as New York—where cemeteries are typically nonprofit, publicly accountable, and regulated by a dedicated cemetery board—Pennsylvania imposes few meaningful requirements on who can own and operate a cemetery. While the State Real Estate Commission oversees registration, it conducts no routine inspections and has limited enforcement authority.

At Lakeside, this lack of regulation has had real consequences. In just over three years, operational control has changed hands three times—an alarming rate for any burial ground, especially one still performing active interments. Each transfer occurred not through a change in legal ownership of the land, but through internal shifts within the same business entity: Lakeside Cemetery and Cremation Gardens Association LLC, which has held the property title since 2005. The deed lists only the LLC—not any individual—rendering true ownership effectively invisible to the public and shielding those responsible from scrutiny, accountability, or liability unless misconduct can be proven. While the LLC remains the legal owner of record, those in charge have changed rapidly—and, in the most recent transition, without transparency.

Further, new operators are not required to demonstrate relevant experience, commitment to cemetery stewardship, or even a basic understanding of the legal and ethical responsibilities they are assuming. This low bar to entry has emboldened some owners to treat cemeteries as personal investments—like houses or storefronts—even though burial rights are perpetual and enforceable. Families who purchased plots hold legally binding rights to interment, upkeep, and access. These rights are not symbolic. They are real—but difficult to protect without oversight.

And unlike a failing retail business that customers can simply avoid if new ownership fails, families cannot walk away from a cemetery. Their loved ones are buried there. The relationship is permanent—and the obligation to care for the dead should be, too.

Even more disturbing, visitors to Lakeside have reported unprovoked threats, harassment, and physical violence from the new ownership—carried out by family members and associates installed as staff, who openly assert the cemetery is their personal “property.” On Mother’s Day, a grieving mother was verbally abused with misogynistic and homophobic slurs by a maintenance worker—simply for parking near his truck. On Memorial Day, a 65-year-old Desert Storm veteran with end-stage cancer was also insulted by the same individual and then physically attacked by several other members of the owner’s family while attempting to honor his military kin. In both cases, the victims called the police—and in both cases, officers appeared and treated the cemetery as private property, ignoring the rights of mourners. The mother is now afraid to return and is considering disinterring her child. The veteran has been criminally charged for defending himself on the very land where he expects to be buried—under the “care” of his attackers.

Historical Significance of Lakeside

For over a century, Lakeside has served as a peaceful resting place for Erie families, civic leaders, and historical figures. Among them is Captain Charles Vernon Gridley, immortalized by Admiral Dewey’s command at the Battle of Manila Bay: “You may fire when ready, Gridley.” His service helped secure victory in the 1898 Spanish-American War and marked the rise of the United States as a global naval power. Four 1890s Spanish naval cannons still stand in Gridley Circle—a tribute from the U.S. Navy and a testament to the cemetery’s historical significance.

When the original founders of Lake Side Cemetery presented their 1896 vision, they envisioned more than a burial ground; they sought to create a landscaped memorial park that combined dignity with natural beauty while offering families a lasting place of comfort and remembrance. Their plan included grading new acres of land, planting over 5,000 trees and shrubs, and introducing both native and ornamental species such as Japanese maples, Norway spruces, and flowering shrubs to ensure variety and elegance. Roads and walkways were carefully laid out, and even a nursery for young trees was established to guarantee continual renewal of the grounds — an early expression of what we now call perpetual care. Like many cemeteries born of the rural cemetery movement, Lake Side was intended not only for the wealthy but for families across the community, with plots available at different prices yet all resting places set within the same cultivated and dignified environment. In their vision, the cemetery was to be a place where the memory of the departed would be honored through thoughtful design and stewardship, providing all families with a serene setting where grief could be met with beauty and legacy could endure across generations.

From Caretaker to Carelessness

For decades, Lakeside was cared for by private owner Renée Jaquel, known for her meticulous upkeep of both her own lawn and the cemetery. By 2021, however, Renée’s health was in decline, and she had handed operations to her brother, Vernon. With his own health failing, the grounds began to show signs of disrepair. That Memorial Day, distraught visitors called local news outlets in tears, prompting a formal apology and a swift cleanup—but the damage was done. Renée passed a few years later, and by the end of 2021, ownership of the LLC had transferred to local mason Kirk Girosky and his wife, Ashley.

According to Lakeside families, the Giroskys were initially engaged and present—often on-site, working directly with families and handling both administrative and maintenance duties. They hired a dedicated young groundskeeper who was there almost daily, mowing the grass and tending the property, while the Giroskys added personal touches like fresh flowers. For a time, it seemed the cemetery had turned a corner. But within two years, the couple experienced financial trouble and defaulted on the cemetery’s property taxes. By 2024, several families reported growing difficulty reaching the Giroskys about urgent matters like interments and headstone placements— likely a sign of mounting strain in the lead-up to the property’s tax sale.

Sold for Less Than a Car?

Lakeside’s most recent change in ownership occurred in January 2025, when an individual acquired the LLC after the land itself failed to sell at a public tax auction held by Erie County in 2024. The cemetery was listed for just $27,349.79 in unpaid 2022 property taxes—a shockingly low figure for land entrusted with veterans from nearly every major U.S. conflict since the Civil War, children gone too soon, a large portion of Erie’s Black community, and civic leaders like Dr. William P. Garvey. To offer it for little more than unpaid taxes—and at a price lower than a new car—felt like an insult to their memory.

After Memorial Day 2021 was marred by overgrown grounds and public outrage—followed by financial distress under the next owners—officials had a chance to step in. Instead of ignoring warning signs and allowing another private handoff for the price of unpaid taxes, the city could have intervened—by seeking a nonprofit steward, inviting community oversight, or launching a preservation effort.

After the property failed to sell at the upset auction—and before the county could relist it for judicial sale—someone quietly paid the back taxes and acquired the cemetery’s LLC, possibly by covering only what was owed. By purchasing the company rather than the land itself, the new owner avoided the public processes that accompany a traditional real estate sale, including deed transfer, public notice, and scrutiny by officials or families.

This method allowed the buyer to assume control without triggering any review or accountability. No formal transaction appeared in county land records, no continuity-of-care plan was disclosed, and no qualifications were required. The result was a total lack of transparency: the cemetery changed hands with no announcement, no oversight, and no indication of what would happen next.

If the previous owners were in financial distress and the buyer saw an opportunity aligned with other ventures, both may have walked away satisfied—on paper. But families were left in the dark. With no information shared and no contact from the new owner, plot holders had no way to confirm who was now responsible for honoring long-standing commitments, including the care and preparation of prepaid graves.

Worse, the transfer was not even acknowledged. The new owner has remained silent—refusing to communicate even after signs of deterioration mounted, including in the lead-up to Memorial Day 2025, and offering no explanation regarding the status of perpetual care funds. Lakeside LLC made no formal announcement to families, failed to update contact information, and did not notify clients of the ownership change. As a result, many are still uncertain who holds legal and moral responsibility for the cemetery’s operations.

By early 2025, it became clear that something had changed for the worse. In colder months, roads went unplowed. In the warmer months, grounds became overgrown. No one was regularly on-site. Of the two recently published phone numbers for Lakeside, one has been disconnected, and the other rang to a locked office with no one inside. There was no website, no visible owner, no staff, and no reliable point of contact. The cemetery had slipped into virtual abandonment, and families were left with silence instead of answers—and no recourse but to watch the consequences unfold.

No Experience Required

Unlike other professionals in the death care industry—such as licensed funeral directors—cemetery owners in Pennsylvania are not required to meet any qualifications, undergo training, or obtain a license. Once purchased, a cemetery can be operated entirely at the owner’s discretion from day one.

Operators are not expected to demonstrate competence in maintaining burial records or plot maps, managing perpetual care funds, preserving headstones and grounds, or even overseeing human remains during disinterments and reinterments (which require only a permit as a “cemetery official”). These are sensitive responsibilities, yet oversight is minimal and typically triggered only by complaints. Owners may also choose to hire staff—or not—while retaining full control of burial grounds simply by virtue of ownership.

That’s how 120-year-old Lakeside came under the control of 27-year-old Henry Earl Howze Jr., a self-employed construction contractor with no evident background in cemetery operations. Although there is no public record of him obtaining full licensure as a funeral director, Howze Jr. also helped launch a funeral home startup in 2021—at the height of the COVID-19 pandemic—just five minutes from Lakeside.

Since acquiring the cemetery in January, Howze Jr. has reportedly delegated responsibilities not to experienced professionals—such as cemetery administrators, sextons, or licensed caretakers—but instead intermittently to relatives and close associates. Among them is Xavier Graham, who appears to serve informally as Lakeside’s primary overseer. According to his LinkedIn profile, Graham’s most recent experience was in snack-food manufacturing.

Perpetually… Neglected?

In accord with the founders’ vision, until recently Lake Side was professionally maintained and visually striking—a favorite among local photographers and a peaceful place for families to gather beside its scenic lake. The water, once a defining centerpiece of the cemetery, symbolized the calm and beauty the trustees promised in 1896. Now, though the grounds still perform active burials, the cemetery is so overgrown that views of the Great Lake are obscured, and memorial benches that once looked onto blue water face only brambles. Visitors must wade through knee-high grass to reach gravesites; headstones are hidden, and the children’s section is choked with weeds. Garbage litters the grounds, and trash cans overflow.

Without public notice—even to existing customers—the January 2025 change in ownership was easy to miss at first. Fewer people visit cemeteries in winter, and those quiet months passed without concern. But one regular mourner who braved the cold noticed something unusual: the roads were left unplowed, preventing families from reaching certain gravesites—a potential violation of Pennsylvania law requiring cemetery owners to grant reasonable access to burial plots. 

By spring, the signs of neglect grew harder to ignore. The on-site office remained dark and locked—understandable in January, perhaps, but by March, it felt like abandonment. Calls to the cemetery’s only working number rang through to an empty office with no return calls, leaving customers and families without any point of contact. In more desperate moments, some visitors left notes taped to the closed office door.

The usual seasonal cleanup never came to address winter’s fallen branches and storm debris. By April, community distress was growing ahead of traditional religious and cultural holidays. While families are responsible for cleaning individual headstones, cemeteries are expected to keep lawns mowed, weeds trimmed, and gravesites accessible. By Easter, Cindy Rembert noted knee-high grass and families bringing their own tools. Oddly, while some areas were mowed, it was only the spots visible from the street—a clear signal that appearances mattered more than honoring the full scope of the cemetery. For families left to rely only on what they could see, this selective upkeep became the first unmistakable sign that Lakeside’s promise of perpetual care might no longer be upheld.

Like Japan’s Obon or Mexico’s Día de los Muertos, Memorial Day in the U.S. carries deep emotional weight—especially at cemeteries like Lakeside. It’s not just a time to honor fallen service members, but also a rare chance for families to gather, lay flowers, clean headstones, and reflect. For many, it’s their first visit in a year—a moment of both remembrance and reunion.

Like 2021, that moment was shattered again in 2025. Visitors arrived to find a sea of grass, trash and debris strewn across the grounds, deep tire tracks running over burial plots, and headstones nearly lost in the weeds. Decorations were missing or broken. Several new graves remained bare, with no grass seeded. Some families couldn’t even locate their loved ones. While patriotic volunteers placed American flags to honor veterans, there was no sign of preparation from cemetery staff. Weeks earlier, informal overseer Xavier Graham had casually posted, “Need extra cash? Know how to use a weed whacker?” just before Mother’s Day—a minimal gesture that underscored the lack of planning.

There was no acknowledgment of the holiday—no explanation, and after public outcry, no apology. Unlike previous owners or other local cemeteries that prepared with care, Lakeside’s current operators appeared either unaware or indifferent to the day’s meaning. This stood in stark contrast to former owner’s who publicly apologized after Memorial Day 2021 and promptly hired a professional crew to begin cleanup efforts. The current owners offered no apology, instead blaming the conditions on the weather, despite nearby cemeteries being prepared, and even attributing legitimate complaints from individuals of diverse backgrounds to “racism.”

Though the neglect had been building for months, it was Memorial Day 2025 that galvanized public awareness. Families from different backgrounds—many of whom had never met—began talking, both at the cemetery and online, sharing stories and recognizing the same troubling patterns: poor upkeep, missing records, mishandled markers, and silence from ownership. What had once been a quiet scandal had now become undeniable. the owners offered no apology, instead blaming the conditions on weather, despite other nearby cemeteries being prepared, and even attributing complaints from grieving families of diverse backgrounds to “racism.”

Even after the public backlash, by mid-summer the on-site office remained empty, and phone lines unanswered, while mourners—such as an elderly widower—were photographed hauling buckets and cultivators to maintain grounds themselves. Circles of brown began to appear around headstones—evidence that the owners had resorted to spraying herbicide rather than using professional standards of weed control, a careless practice that risks etching and discoloring the very stones families paid to preserve. One professional headstone cleaner, Brandon Adams, filmed the grounds and remarked that the cemetery now more closely resembles a “battlefield.”

Where Is the Money? Families Demand Perpetual Care Accountability

What should have served as a safeguard against this type of neglect has instead left families abandoned, forced to shoulder maintenance on their own. Under Pennsylvania law, for-profit cemeteries have few obligations, but the most important is the guarantee of perpetual care—basic mowing, trimming, and waste management. State law requires at least 15% of every plot sale to be placed in a trust dedicated to upkeep, with funds remaining tied to the cemetery even if ownership changes. Lakeside’s founders advertised this standard as early as 1896, and it has always operated as a perpetual care cemetery. Lakeside's most recent plot sale contracts continue to promise ongoing care. 

Even if a cemetery faces financial hardship or changes ownership, the perpetual care trust is not private property. It must remain with the cemetery, and its income must be used exclusively for maintenance. Funds are typically invested conservatively by a bank or trustee to ensure steady returns and minimize risk. The principal—the original amount set aside—is legally protected and cannot be spent or diverted for any other purpose.

Owners must account for these funds and file annual financial statements with the Commonwealth to ensure transparency and prevent misuse. The current owners of Lakeside have not only failed to maintain the grounds but also failed to file the required financial statements in 2025 or to publicly account for the perpetual care funds mandated to be set aside for upkeep. 

If the perpetual care trust fund—established to guarantee upkeep— is missing, depleted, or failing to produce enough income for maintenance, the problem likely points not to ordinary market fluctuation but to misuse, mismanagement, or neglect. Families are now asking: Where is the money? They are calling on the Pennsylvania Attorney General’s Office to investigate potential fraud and consumer deception, the State Real Estate Commission to examine compliance with perpetual care fund requirements, and local courts to audit the trust under their authority over estates and fiduciary oversight.

When asked about the funds, the owners have offered no explanation, refusing to account for money that by law must remain dedicated to the cemetery. And the failures at Lakeside do not stop with overgrown grass and hidden headstones. 

Abuse of the Bereaved

If the condition of the grounds raised alarm, even more troubling has been the blatant disregard—and at times, open aggression—shown by the new owners and staff toward the families who come to mourn. Lakeside’s dignity has further deteriorated under Howze Jr., who has staffed the cemetery with unqualified and often combative friends and relatives. These individuals refer to the cemetery as their “property” and routinely berate visitors without consequence.

On Mother’s Day, a mourning mother was verbally harassed and intimidated by a Lakeside staff member while visiting her child’s grave. As she walked back to her car, a worker emerged from a building and shouted, “What the f*ck is wrong with you?!”—apparently angry that she had parked near his maintenance truck, which was turned off. He then hurled slurs, calling her a “d*ke” and a “c*nt.” She believed he was deliberately trying to provoke her in a moment of grief. Frightened, she called Erie PD, but officers reportedly dismissed her complaint and treated both parties as equally at fault. No charges were filed, despite behavior that appeared to meet the threshold for criminal harassment or disorderly conduct under Pennsylvania law. At a minimum, the worker should have been removed from public-facing duties. Instead, he remained on-site, free to continue mistreating visitors. The mother remains deeply distressed by the encounter, now fears returning to Lakeside, and hopes to disinter her child as soon as she can afford to.

Just weeks later, in an even more egregious example, tensions among the Howze family appeared to boil over in the wake of public criticism regarding the cemetery’s condition over the long Memorial Day weekend. The day after the holiday, a retired Air Force veteran visited Lakeside with his wife, bringing mulch and flowers, to honor generations of military service in his family. Like many others, he was upset when he saw the cemetery’s unkempt appearance. When he asked the same nearby worker who had harassed the mother why the grounds hadn’t been prepared, he was told, “If you don’t like it, f*cking do it yourself.” As a plot holder the veteran asked to speak with the manager, still believing it was the previous owner, Girosky, who had sold him his plot after a devastating cancer diagnosis.

Instead, Tyrone Howze, the new owner’s uncle, approached, claimed ownership, shoved the veteran, and ordered him off the property. When the veteran stood his ground, Tyrone swung at him. The veteran defended himself, and the worker joined in. He was soon surrounded by members of the family, including Howze Jr.’s sister, Marissa, who tackled, kicked, and struck him.

He eventually broke free. Physically vulnerable, outnumbered, and fearing for his life, he called out to his wife—still in their vehicle—to hand him his legally owned firearm in case the attack resumed. Although she was frozen in fear and couldn’t respond, the mention of the gun caused the group to back off. The veteran called 9-1-1. While still on the line with dispatch, someone from the group contacted Howze Jr. to report that the veteran was armed. Howze Jr. soon arrived with his own gun and allegedly threatened the veteran with it, while also asserting the cemetery was his “property.” The veteran relayed this to dispatch and later to responding officers.

Police arrived shortly after and confiscated weapons from both parties. Citing conflicting accounts between the veteran and several members of the same family, officers stated they would charge all involved and leave it to the courts to determine what occurred. In the end, the veteran, Tyrone Howze, and the worker were charged. Despite having a weapon, owner Howze Jr. and Marissa Howze—who claimed she was merely trying to break up the fight—were not. Both continue to operate the cemetery without oversight. The veteran never got to lay his flowers that day—what may have been his final Memorial Day—and now faces legal proceedings while battling end-stage cancer.

Even more unsettling, both the grieving mother and the veteran now fear their loved ones’ graves—or, in the veteran’s case, his own future resting place—could be desecrated in retaliation. What was once a resting place has become a site of intimidation and hostility, where grieving families worry not only for their own safety but for the dignity of the dead.

Grave Mismanagement

Just as troubling as Howze Jr. and his family’s disregard for the land—and the living—is their growing pattern of disrespect toward the dead. Within months of acquiring Lakeside Cemetery, what began as surface-level neglect quickly escalated into alarming mismanagement.
Amid disconnected phone lines, misspelled signage, and other visible signs of disorder, serious doubts have emerged about the basic competence of those now overseeing the grounds. These lapses suggest that routine—yet critical—administrative functions may have broken down entirely.

In May, photos taken by Melissa Spiker began circulating online, showing several headstones discarded beside a green industrial-sized dumpster—some broken, others still intact. These weren’t anonymous or unclaimed markers. One, crumbling in a corner, bore the name of World War II veteran George Buckner, clearly identifiable by its government-issued style. Another was recognized by Keysha Moseley, who was horrified to discover her own grandmother’s headstone among the pile.

In any professionally managed cemetery, headstones—whether newly delivered, damaged, or removed—are never treated like trash. Even when replacements are necessary, markers should be handled with care, stored properly in designated areas, and if needed, disposed of respectfully through a licensed monument company. Families should be notified and offered the opportunity to retain the original. Leaving gravestones—some visibly crumbling—in a heap beside a dumpster in public view not only violates industry standards and fiduciary obligations under perpetual care, but also breaches the basic dignity owed to the deceased. Mishandling a veteran’s marker may also constitute a violation of federal law.

Associates of the current operator claim the discarded markers predate their ownership, but they have made no effort to remove or explain them for months—even as outrage grows. Meanwhile, new problems emerged. In May, Deb Gibbons Thomas searched through knee-high weeds on her family’s lot, looking for the headstone of a baby she had lovingly cared for over 40 years. It had vanished.

Other visitors reported pre-sold plots with no signs of preparation, including some reserved for individuals whose passing may be imminent—several so overgrown with mature trees that they appear entirely forgotten. This raises serious concerns that the current team may not even know which plots have been sold—or worse, that some may have been resold. If true, this would not only breach consumer contracts—it could amount to fraud. And if plots are being sold through House of Paradise without disclosing the funeral home’s ownership or control of the cemetery, that lack of transparency could constitute deceptive business practices.

The collapse in basic burial protocol under Howze Jr.’s ownership became painfully clear to Norine Blount’s family—and likely to the unknown Hollman family—when, in June, Blount discovered their unaffiliated headstone lying across her grandmother’s recent grave. The Hollman stone hadn’t been installed—just placed on bare earth, with no alignment, no foundation, and no explanation for why it was there, or where the grave was that it belonged to.

Poor or missing burial records risk permanently erasing the final resting places of the dead—a failure serious enough to warrant state intervention. Between May and June 2025, multiple families—including Geoff Albertson and Robin Weunski—reported being unable to locate where their loved ones are buried.

These issues, combined with the absence of on-site staff or customer service raises serious concerns about whether essential administrative functions are being performed at all—including maintaining accurate plot maps, updating interment registers, verifying ownership deeds, coordinating burials, processing headstone placements, issuing burial permits, and keeping legally required records. When families can’t even get basic assistance, it raises urgent questions about what records, if any, exist. But there’s no one to ask—and no one answering.

Morgue to Grave Pipeline?

In sharp contrast to his silence on Lakeside, Howze Jr. actively promotes himself as the "CEO" of House of Paradise Cremation and Funeral Services, Inc. (H.O.P.), located just off East Lake Road. In Pennsylvania, funeral homes must operate under the supervision of a fully licensed funeral director in good standing. While Howze previously held trainee and intern-level credentials—typically granted after completing a basic mortuary science program lasting two years or less—this entry-level training is insufficient for independent practice or funeral home management; it omits state licensing exams, a required internship, supervised experience hours, and the formal certification needed to oversee operations. According to public records, Howze Jr.’s introductory permits have since lapsed.

While Howze Jr. claims ownership, H.O.P. is officially licensed under Reverend Willard Owens Rhodes, a 73-year-old funeral director and pastor at New Jerusalem Lutheran Church—raising questions about whether qualified oversight is consistently exercised. Licensed directors are required to be present for key activities such as embalming, final disposition, and meeting with families to make arrangements—making day-to-day supervision a matter of both regulatory compliance and ethical responsibility.

The funeral home is likewise staffed primarily by Howze Jr.’s relatives and close associates, including his sister Marissa, who lists hair braiding as her main experience and also serves as the receptionist and a self-described grief coach. H.O.P. markets itself as “family-owned,” a label that often suggests warmth and trust—but here, it appears to serve more as a branding device than as evidence of professional qualifications.

At first glance, H.O.P. projects a polished image: it has a website, staffed phone lines, an active social media presence, branded photo backdrops, and promotional outreach to local churches and senior centers. It even held a ribbon-cutting grand opening, complete with community fanfare. Unlike Lakeside—which was visibly neglected on Memorial Day, a holiday meant to honor the fallen—H.O.P. hosts public-facing events, including an Easter egg hunt. But while the funeral home invests in visibility and curated appearances, Lakeside is treated as a back-end extension of the business rather than a place deserving reverence. The cemetery now functions less as a site of remembrance and more as a quiet endpoint in a closed, privately run system—used for interments but stripped of dignity, maintenance, and respect. Perpetual care is neglected, longstanding families are ignored, and the site’s historic and emotional significance is overlooked in favor of operational convenience.

Critics warn that Howze’s simultaneous control of both funeral services and cemetery operations—without visible professional infrastructure or experienced personnel—raises serious ethical and legal concerns. While some licensed funeral directors do own cemeteries, those arrangements typically involve robust standards: trained staff, regulatory transparency, operational accountability, and community trust. None of those safeguards appear reliably in place here.

Without them, families are left vulnerable to poor recordkeeping, neglected grounds, unanswered needs, and even mishandled remains. When the same small group controls both funeral arrangements and burials—yet fails to communicate openly or address problems—it creates a closed loop with no clear oversight and no effective recourse. And when the businesses are marketed under separate names, without disclosing shared ownership, consumers may not realize they are entrusting every step of the process to the same unregulated team.

These concerns are not merely theoretical. In 2008, Grand View Memorial Park Cemetery in California became a national scandal after its owner—who also operated a funeral home—was caught burying multiple bodies in the same graves, discarding ashes in garbage bags, and committing fraud. Despite being licensed, the operator exploited gaps in oversight and was ultimately charged with felony offenses.