On a quiet morning in Inverness, Scotland, the largest care home in the city, Castlehill, sits behind its modern façade—a place that, on paper, promises luxury and comfort for its elderly residents at a cost of up to £1,800 per week. But beneath the surface, a BBC investigation has pulled back the curtain on a world of distress, neglect, and desperation, raising urgent questions about the state of elderly care in Scotland and beyond.
Reporter Catriona MacPhee spent seven weeks undercover as a cleaner at Castlehill, ending her role on August 9, 2025. Her experience, detailed in a BBC Disclosure documentary, paints a picture of a care sector under immense strain. MacPhee witnessed scenes that would stay with her long after leaving: residents left shouting for help, desperate to use the toilet or simply to be washed and dressed. As a cleaner, she could do little more than offer words of comfort and alert the overworked care staff. One moment stood out—a woman, surrounded by mementos of a full life, sobbing in humiliation as her pleas for assistance went unanswered. "That totally avoidable loss of dignity was the first time I felt anger," MacPhee reflected, according to BBC News.
The investigation was sparked by Susan Christie, whose father spent two years at Castlehill. Troubled by the care her father received, Christie installed a hidden camera in his room. The footage revealed him left in an incontinence pad for over 12 hours, not washed properly, food placed out of reach, and even being scalded by hot porridge. "He wasn't being washed properly, he was being left in an incontinence pad for in excess of 12 hours, never taken to the toilet, food placed out of reach, spilling hot porridge on himself," Christie told the BBC. "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. That cleaner was later dismissed, and nine of Christie’s complaints were upheld by the Care Inspectorate. Her father was moved out of Castlehill in May.
Seeking to understand whether these were isolated incidents or part of a broader pattern, the BBC requested data from the Care Inspectorate. The results were damning: Castlehill topped the list of care homes in Scotland with 10 complaints upheld in 2024. While several families shared similar stories, most incidents were historical. To see if things had changed, MacPhee took a job at Castlehill while it was under special measures, having received improvement notices for a range of issues. Despite the spotlight, she found a home that was still chronically understaffed and ill-equipped to meet the needs of its residents, especially those with dementia.
Walking the corridors with her cleaning trolley, MacPhee encountered pleading faces and outstretched hands, residents yearning for human contact or basic help. Many had given up hope. The lack of staff not only meant that residents’ basic needs were unmet, but also led to distress, aggression, and crisis situations. In one particularly memorable exchange, a resident waiting for help to use the toilet replied, "Aye, so is Christmas," when told carers were on their way. The emotional toll was heavy. MacPhee recounted moments of retching from the smell in a resident’s room, where breakfast had been served and hours had passed without anyone opening curtains or windows. "At least I could walk out of there at the end of my shift. They couldn't," she wrote for the BBC.
The undercover investigation revealed residents lying in wet clothes or on soiled sheets, women screaming behind closed doors as male carers performed intimate care, and staff too overwhelmed to offer meaningful engagement or unhurried continence support. While some carers strove to make a difference, the moments of genuine connection were rare. Carers were paid £13 an hour to provide intimate care for people with complex needs—an industry standard, but, as Donald McAskill of Scottish Care told the BBC, "You can get more for walking a dog through the meadows of Edinburgh than you can from sitting at somebody's bedside, holding their hand as they breathe their last. For me, I find that obscene."
Experts interviewed for the BBC Disclosure film were unanimous in their assessment: the care sector is in crisis. Underfunding, staff shortages, and cuts to frontline dementia services have left care homes struggling just as the number of people with dementia is projected to double by 2040. Families, often left with no alternatives, are forced to place loved ones in care homes, burdened by guilt and the complexity of financing care.
Yet, amidst the gloom, there were glimmers of hope. In her final week, MacPhee saw a new activity leader bring music and joy to residents, and a new deputy manager tackle the pervasive smell of urine. These small improvements mattered, but the scale of the challenge remained daunting. The residents themselves, MacPhee said, were the "unexpected highlight"—their stories, humor, and resilience providing light in a difficult job. "With a few minutes of your time, you could encourage someone out of their shell or ease their confusion. That was all it took for them to walk away with a smile, or at least calmer than when they first approached you," she reflected.
MacPhee’s undercover work was not without risk. She wore a secret camera for most of her shifts, worried about being discovered. There were days when technical problems got in the way, or when the needs of residents took priority over filming. But the goal remained clear: "My priority had to be the residents and their needs. That was the whole point of the investigation. Filming was secondary." She left Castlehill on August 9, 2025, haunted by a single question: surely they deserve better?
In response to the BBC’s findings, Castlehill Care Home, which operates under the name Simply Inverness, issued a statement: "We are appalled by the footage aired in the BBC programme. It was not provided to us in advance and does not reflect the situation today. The safety, health and wellbeing of residents remains our absolute priority at all times. The Care Inspectorate has recognised the significant improvements made in the last three months. We must ensure that these improvements are sustained. In excess of £1m is being invested in the refurbishment of the home and we thank all residents and their families for their patience during the renovations."
The Highland Health and Social Care Partnership echoed concerns, stating, "The content of the BBC Disclosure documentary about Castlehill Care Home which highlighted issues about delivery of safe, quality care was concerning for all to see, and we understand how deeply distressing this will have been for families of those residents. We have a responsibility as a key partner with regards to support and protection of adults and we have clear expectations of standards to be met by any care home provider in Highland. The provider of Castlehill care home did not meet those standards. At this time care home admissions remain suspended and will continue until we are absolutely confident that the required standards have been met and sustained."
As Scotland’s population ages and the challenges facing care homes intensify, the story of Castlehill is a stark reminder of the need for vigilance, investment, and compassion in the care of society’s most vulnerable. For the families, staff, and residents at Castlehill, the hope is that scrutiny will lead to lasting change—and that dignity will no longer be a privilege, but a right.
