The plan was already made. The family had toured the memory care facility twice, signed the paperwork, and arranged for movers to collect her things the following week. But when they pulled into the parking lot, her daughter told her she would just be staying for a few days while her back healed up.
She brought one small bag.
That was eight months ago. Her daughter still can’t get through a session without circling back to that parking lot. Not because the move was wrong — her mother needed that level of care, and everyone involved knew it. But because of the words just a few days. Because her mother had looked at her and said, “Okay” and trusted her completely.
That kind of guilt doesn’t dissolve when the dust settles. It compounds.
This scenario is more common than most people realize, and the question it raises — Was lying the right thing to do? — doesn’t have a clear answer. But the evidence does give us important guardrails.
In this article, I’ll share some research on what we know about deception, relocation, and dementia care — including when limited deception might reduce harm, and when it almost certainly makes things worse.
In dementia care, “therapeutic lying” — sometimes called therapeutic fibbing or creative communication — refers to using gentle untruths to reduce distress when correcting someone’s reality causes more harm than good (Day et al., 2011). Think of telling someone that her husband is “at work” rather than explaining, again, that he died fifteen years ago, only to have them experience the raw, fresh grief as a daily experience.
Most ethicists who engage with this practice DO NOT favor deception, at the same time, they recognize that in moderate-to-severe dementia, it may sometimes be the least harmful option when safety and recurrent distress are at stake (Day et al., 2011).
When it comes to using deception to move, the focus should be in what causes the least harm.
The bulk of the literature on therapeutic lying focuses on small, day-to-day interactions — not major life events like a permanent relocation. When the deception involves something as significant as leaving home forever, the stakes are considerably higher.
“Therapeutic fibbing” was never designed as a relocation strategy. The evidence base for it is narrow, and the risks of applying it to a forced move are substantial.
Before we can talk about deception, we have to talk about how relocation itself can impact older adults.
Transfer trauma (also called relocation stress syndrome) is a well-documented phenomenon in geriatric care. Moving from one’s home to a long-term care or memory care setting is one of the most disorienting experiences a person can go through — and the research reflects that (Bekhet et al., 2009).
Common reactions include:
These outcomes are significantly worse in involuntary moves, moves with little preparation, and moves where the person feels excluded from the decision (Bekhet et al., 2009). Deception, by definition, removes the opportunity for the older person to be a part of the decision- called shared decision-making- and denies them the opportunity to prepare emotionally for this significant transition.
When deceit is layered on top of an already-difficult relocation, the psychological impact doesn’t just stay the same — it compounds. A person who might have eventually adjusted to a new setting now has an additional wound to contend with: the betrayal of being lied to and the complex bind of being a position in which they rely on that person for assistance and guidance with ruptured trust.
I’m not going to tell you that deception around a move is always wrong and never discuss it further. That would be dishonest, and it wouldn’t serve the families and clinicians who face these decisions in real time. So let’s explore both sides: the pros and cons of lying about a move to memory care.
There are narrow circumstances where ethical analysts have recognized that some deception may be defensible:
Even in these circumstances, the literature emphasizes proportionality and last resort — after truthful, simplified, empathic communication and environmental supports have been tried and failed (Day et al., 2011).
Far more commonly, deception around a move does real damage:
Beyond the standard transfer trauma reactions, deceit adds:
These presentations are sometimes addressed symptomatically — with medication or behavioral interventions — without ever identifying deception-related betrayal as the underlying cause.
Family caregivers who have used deception around a move consistently describe:
Moral distress is the painful psychological tension that arises when you know what feels right — but find yourself unable to act on it, or worse, find yourself doing something that conflicts with your deepest values, and feel out of alignment with your moral integrity.
Moral distress is highest when people feel forced by system constraints — unsafe discharge pressures, lack of community resources — and when family members are not aligned with each other about the approach (Teno et al., 2011).
The caregiver’s guilt doesn’t go away just because the move was necessary. Moral distress needs to be processed — not just explained away.
The research on dementia care transitions is fairly consistent: honest, person-centered, well-planned transitions produce better outcomes than those built on deception — for the older adult and for the family. Here’s what that actually looks like.
Having a trusted clinician — primary care, neurologist, geriatrician — discuss safety and care needs directly often lends credibility and reduces the sense that “my children just want to get rid of me.” Evidence-based transitional care models stress coordinated communication among the individual, the caregiver, and the clinical team about upcoming transitions and their rationale. Family members can attend visits (with consent) to share observations about falls, confusion, or caregiver strain, allowing the clinician to make strong, specific recommendations.
Successful dementia transition programs educate individuals and caregivers early about likely future transitions and how to delay or avoid them — and they involve both parties in planning (Alzheimer’s Association, 2018). Introducing the idea of extra help, adult day programs, respite stays, and trial stays can normalize the full spectrum of supports and reduce the shock of a sudden, permanent move.
Before any move, evidence-based practice calls for exploring home modifications, in-home care, adult day programs, medication management supports, and technology to reduce risk (Alzheimer’s Association, 2018). When these supports are tried first — and when they eventually prove insufficient — both families and older adults often have an easier time accepting that “we really did try everything we reasonably could.”
Models like adaptations of the Transitional Care Model and dementia caregiver training programs bring together the most effective elements: education about transitions, timely communication, involvement of the person with dementia in planning, and emotional support for caregivers before and after the move (Naylor et al., 2011).
Aging Life Care Professionals (formerly known as Geriatric Care Managers), dementia-capable social workers, and interdisciplinary teams can help implement or approximate these approaches in community settings.
For a specific family navigating this decision, here’s the sequence the evidence supports:
Across all the literature, the through-line is this: respect for autonomy, preparation, honest communication, and caregiver support are the core of ethical transitions. Deception, if used at all, should be considered a last-resort measure — not a default strategy and not a shortcut (Alzheimer’s Association, 2018).
Deception might sometimes be the least-bad option. It is never the best option.
The families I work with who have used deception to move a loved one are not bad people making careless choices. They are exhausted, frightened people who often felt they had no other option — sometimes because the system gave them no real alternatives, and sometimes because no one had helped them think through what other options existed.
Our job, as clinicians, is to get in earlier. To help families have these conversations before the crisis forces their hand. To offer the psychoeducation, the communication strategies, and the emotional support that makes a more honest path possible. And when families come to us afterward, carrying guilt that doesn’t lift — our job is to sit with that, to help them understand the ethics they were navigating, and to support the healing that still needs to happen.
This is hard work. It’s also some of the most important work we do. So, thank you for doing it.
If this article resonated with you, join me for my upcoming course on Therapy Across the Stages of Dementia from Individual to Caregiver Family Therapy (6 CE Credits)
Dr. Regina Koepp is a board certified clinical psychologist, clinical geropsychologist, and founder and CEO of the Center for Mental Health & Aging: the “go to” place for mental health and aging. Dr. Koepp is a sought after speaker on the topics of mental health and aging, caregiving, ageism, resilience, intimacy in the context of life altering Illness, and dementia and sexual expression. Dr. Koepp is on a mission to ensure mental health and belonging for older adults, because every person at every age is worthy of healing, transformation, and love. Learn more about Dr. Regina Koepp here.
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