I went undercover as a cleaner at a failing care home. Here's what I witnessed

An Unforgettable Moment of Dignity Lost

I saw many scenes of distress and neglect while working undercover in an overstretched care home, but one incident will remain with me forever.

On the worst days, when staffing was at its lowest ebb, the sound of my cleaning trolley rumbling down the corridors would be met with cries for help. Some residents were desperate for assistance to use the toilet; others just wanted to be washed and dressed for the day. As a cleaner, I could do nothing but offer words of comfort and promise to find a care worker.

One day, I sat with a woman, still in her nightie, who needed help to move from her bed to the bathroom just eight feet away. Her room was filled with the hallmarks of a life well-lived: mementoes of a successful career, photos of overseas holidays with her loving family, and a wardrobe of exquisite cashmere cardigans.

As we waited for a carer, she begged me not to leave. She was becoming increasingly uncomfortable, and I tried to distract her with small talk about the weather. She listened until she could no longer mask her agony. Her physical distress became so great that her quiet pleas for the toilet turned to sobs of despair. I had felt sad many times in that home, but this completely avoidable loss of dignity was the first time I felt true anguish.

The Investigation's Catalyst

Our investigation was sparked by Susan Christie, whose father spent two years in Castlehill, Inverness's largest care home. Marketed as a luxury facility, it charges up to £1,800 per week. Worried about her father's care, Susan installed a hidden camera in his room and was appalled by what she saw.

"He wasn't being washed properly," she explained. "He was left in an incontinence pad for more than 12 hours, never taken to the toilet, food was left out of his reach, and he was left spilling hot porridge on himself."

It was neglect. The final straw came when a cleaner was filmed restraining her father and violently shaking his bed before prodding him with a walking stick. The cleaner was dismissed, and nine of Susan's complaints were upheld by the Care Inspectorate. In May, she moved her father out of Castlehill.

To see how Castlehill compared to Scotland's 1,000 other care homes, the BBC submitted a Freedom of Information request. In 2024, Castlehill topped the list with ten upheld complaints. The only way to know if these issues were ongoing was to go inside. After gaining permission through the BBC's internal processes to film covertly, our investigation began.

Going Undercover

I called the care home to ask if any cleaning jobs were available. I was invited for an interview and asked to start immediately. At the time, the home was in special measures following Care Inspectorate concerns. Surely, under such scrutiny, things would have improved?

What I found was a home so understaffed it lacked the right mix of employees to meet residents' basic needs. This was triggering anxiety and challenging behaviour. As I pushed my cleaning trolley, I was acutely aware of pleading faces peering from bedrooms, longing for a few minutes of company. I was shocked to find that others had simply given up.

"I've told the carers, they're on their way," I told a man who needed the toilet one day.

"Aye, so is Christmas," he replied.

Of all the things I had braced myself for, I hadn't expected to form real friendships with the residents. One day, sitting in my car on a break, the reality of it struck me, and I was overcome with emotion. The stench in one resident's room was so overpowering I found myself retching. The once-proud Highland gentleman who lived there had been left alone for hours after breakfast; no one had thought to open his curtains or windows. At least I could walk out at the end of my shift. They could not.

A System in Crisis

I regularly found residents in soiled clothes or lying on dirty sheets. I heard women crying out from behind closed doors because male carers were performing their intimate care. The impact of overstretched staff was clear: they had a tick-list of tasks to get through, but their schedules were too rushed to include meaningful engagement or unhurried continence care.

Some carers clearly wanted to make residents' lives better, but those moments were rare. Carers were paid £13 an hour to provide personal assistance for people with complex needs—a rate in line with industry standards. For the BBC Disclosure probe, I interviewed Donald McAskill of Scottish Care. One of his quotes has stuck with me.

"You will get more for walking a dog through Edinburgh's meadows than you can from sitting at someone's bedside, holding their hand as they breathe their last," he said. "For me, I find that obscene."

Experts we interviewed were unanimous: the care sector is in crisis. They cited underfunding, staff shortages, and unprecedented pressure on frontline services. All called for a national conversation on the future of care, especially as the number of people with dementia is expected to double by 2040.

Reflections on Filming

I carried a small camera for most of my time in the home. I was constantly worried someone would spot it or that the battery would die. On one occasion, I forgot to wear the fake glasses I used as a partial disguise. It was a sloppy mistake I didn't repeat.

There were days the camera malfunctioned, and other times when I had to prioritise a resident's needs over filming. I was crystal clear from the start: the residents came first. That was the point of the investigation.

It was a privilege to meet such engaging, funny, and charming characters. We sang songs, danced in the corridors, and discussed everything from Caravaggio to Donald Trump. Without knowing it, the residents kept me going. When I walked out of Castlehill for the final time, one question echoed in my mind: surely they deserve better than this?

The Official Response

Castlehill Care Home, which trades as Simply Inverness, provided this statement:

"We are appalled by the video being broadcast in the BBC programme. It was not sent to us in advance and does not reflect the current situation. Our highest priority at all times is the safety, health, and wellbeing of residents. The Care Inspectorate has acknowledged the dramatic changes made in the last three months. In excess of £1 million is being invested in the renovations of the home."

NHS Highland and the Highland Council released a joint statement:

"The content of the BBC Disclosure documentary about Castlehill Care Home, which highlighted issues about safe, quality care, was troubling for all to see. The Castlehill care home did not meet the high standards required. At this moment, care home admissions are still suspended and will continue until we are absolutely positive that the required conditions have been met and maintained."