Across the former Soviet bloc, many mentally ill are without rights as a result of unrevised rules in place before free markets and democracy started taking hold, according to human rights groups.

The name of this isolated spot in the lush Danube plains means justice or, carried over from Russian, it means truth. Little of either definition has penetrated the local care home for men with mental disorders, a bleak establishment most easily reached by a bone-jarring six-hour ride from Sofia, the capital.

In the Communist era, this is where authorities hid the mentally ill from public view. Today, the small complex of scrappy, two-story buildings is still a favored destination for city folk to send away mentally ill relatives - and not worry about hearing from them again.

All across the former Soviet bloc, the laws governing guardianship mostly date back to the Communist era. In the tumult of the two decades since free markets and imperfect democracy took hold in Eastern Europe, these are among the few unrevised rules, and hundreds of thousands of people are without rights as a result, according to human rights groups.

A two-year study of guardianship systems in eight countries completed early this year by the Mental Disability Advocacy Center in Budapest found jail-like regimes for patients suffering from a wide range of mental disabilities, from mental illness to intellectual disability. The center, a privately funded nongovernmental organization, estimates that one million people live under guardianship in Eastern and Central Europe and the former Soviet Union and are subject to "significant, arbitrary and automatic" violations of human rights.

Guardianship involves the transfer of legal capacity from one individual to another. Across Eastern Europe, laws deprive mentally ill adults of all rights to make decisions, regardless of their differing abilities. Guardians decide where they live, how to spend their money, how they use their property rights or access courts, and even determine their relationships. Often, they use their powers to send them to large state institutions forever.

Guardianship laws in Bulgaria and across the region provide no effective oversight of guardians who assume control of their wards' property or bank accounts, the Budapest center  found.

"We call it civil death," said Victoria Lee, a human rights lawyer at the Mental Disability Advocacy Center. "Once you are under guardianship, that's it. You basically become a non-person. These guardianship systems have no safeguards."

Since the law assumes that guardians act in the best interest of their wards, there are no legal mechanisms to prevent them from neglecting responsibilities or seeking financial gain. While the directors of social care institutions are required by Bulgarian law to submit yearly audits of their wards' finances, for example, the fine for failing to do so is 0.20 Bulgarian levs, or about 14 U.S. cents.

Chaotic legislation, unclear standards and ineffective judiciaries in some countries in Eastern Europe mean that it is relatively easy for a family member to convince a judge that someone with a mental illness or intellectual disability should be placed under guardianship - simply because a family member wants control over assets.

"It's not for riches," said Aneta Genova, a lawyer from the Bulgarian Helsinki Committee, an international human rights group, representing several wards at Pravda. "It's usually for little things, like using a room in an apartment, or renting or selling a property."

Some countries are trying to change the system. In Hungary, for instance, the draft civil code being considered by Parliament has introduced supported decision-making.

With guardianship, "it's easy to get in, but almost impossible to get out," said Oliver Lewis, executive director of the Mental Disability Advocacy Center. "The law should provide support for people who need assistance, not remove their rights altogether."

Legal appeals to remove guardianship and restore legal capacity can lead to "Kafka-like" situations, Lewis said, because in many countries in Eastern Europe the procedures require the consent of the guardian. "Often the guardians don't want the people to appeal, because it is in their financial interest to have the person remain under their guardianship."

The director of the Pravda home, Beyti Hussein, testifies to the abandonment and helplessness of the residents under his care. He said this was aggravated by their inability to make decisions themselves.

"In most cases, people are sent here in order to not bother their families," Hussein said, noting that 57 of the 70 men in the center were under total guardianship and only 4 were from the region. "At the same time, the families use their properties and don't want to have anything to do with them or accept any responsibilities."

Hussein said a typical story was one about identical twin brothers, Kiril and Metodi Mitsev, 46. They have schizophrenia and came to Pravda in 2000. Their brother Julian, appointed their guardian by a court, has never visited. And because his permission is required for them to travel, they are not allowed to leave the area except on group excursions led by the home.

According to documents kept by the home, the brothers own shares in two buildings and land in Kyustendil, southwest of Sofia, as well as an apartment in Sofia. Their only income is about 40 Bulgarian levs per year from their elderly father's pension.

"I can't say why he doesn't come," Metodi said of his brother Julian. "But my father says, 'You can't count on your brother."'

Neither Mitsev brother seemed to know about guardianship when questioned about the issue. They know only that they feel powerless.

"These people are resigned to their fate," said Stoyanka Dimitrova, a social worker at the home. "There is no one to protect them and no one to show them how to claim what is rightfully theirs."

Metodi does the talking for the brothers. His gregariousness balances Kiril's introversion. The front of Metodi's blue denim shirt is monogrammed. He said he had to constantly counter his brother's desire for them to dress alike.

"If we were closer to Sofia it would be easier to visit our father and we could find a lawyer," Metodi said. Their father is too old to make the long trip to Pravda. Changing homes would require the consent of their guardian.

"A lot of years have gone by," Metodi said, staring off pensively into the plains surrounding the home. "We are far away from the city and miss civilization. We have no girlfriends here. I miss taking getaways."

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