top of page
Search

The Hidden Wound: The Tragic Story of Vertus Hardiman and a Medical Betrayal


Three elderly individuals with different expressions are in focus, with a sepia-toned group photo in the brick wall background.

In a town where everyone knew your name, few ever knew the truth about Vertus Hardiman. He was always sharply dressed, polite, and warm-hearted—but what no one realised was that beneath the neat wig he wore daily was a physical wound so severe, it had slowly eaten away at his scalp and skull for over seventy years. Behind that quiet smile was a horrific story that began when he was just five years old.


A Childhood Medical Nightmare

The story begins in 1927. Vertus Hardiman, then just a child of five, had developed a common condition: ringworm. A highly treatable fungal infection that affects the skin, particularly the scalp, it was not a cause for alarm in most communities. But for the Black families of Lyles Station, who lived under the ever-present shadow of institutional racism and limited access to quality medical care, the treatment offered by a local hospital seemed like a rare opportunity.

A vintage group photo of children and a teacher in front of a brick building. The names Vertus and Gletus are labeled. The mood is formal.
Vertus’s uncle Gletus, just two years older, also received radiation treatment for ringworm, along with several other Hardiman family members.

Ten children from Lyles Station, all African American, were taken to the nearby hospital with their parents’ consent. Their parents had signed permission slips, believing the children would receive standard medical treatment. But they were never informed of what would actually take place. What followed was not treatment but experimentation.

Without their parents' informed consent, the children were subjected to high-dose radiation therapy, a method known at the time to be dangerous and largely discredited. Radiation, in limited forms, had been used to treat ringworm in some medical circles, but what happened to these children was far from therapeutic. It was reckless, excessive, and, many would argue, racially motivated.

When it came to Vertus’s turn, the nurse administering the treatment panicked. “Oh my God, I’ve given him too much,” she reportedly shouted. Those words stayed with Vertus for the rest of his life.

Elderly man with a tumor on his head, wearing a gray shirt and red suspenders. He looks contemplative against a dark background.

The Aftermath of the Radiation Experiment

All ten children suffered injuries: burns, hair loss, and scarring. But none were as badly disfigured as Vertus Hardiman. The overdose of radiation obliterated the tissue on his scalp and began a lifelong process of necrosis that left a gaping wound in his head. As he grew, the damage did not heal. Instead, it progressed.

In the years following the incident, Vertus learned to hide his disfigurement beneath a wig, worn every single day. He lived in chronic pain. He learned to smile through it, to live with it, and to keep his suffering to himself. His condition became his silent companion.

Though the parents of the affected children attempted to sue the hospital, claiming they had been misled and never properly informed of the procedures, the court sided against them. No one was held accountable. The children were left to suffer alone.


A Life of Quiet Strength

Despite this unspeakable trauma, Vertus led a productive and largely private life. He worked for decades in Los Angeles County’s General Hospital and later in administrative roles. Those who knew him professionally had no idea about the suffering he endured daily. He was known for his kind manner and dedication to work.


But in his final years, he decided to break his silence.


He entrusted his story to his close friend, Wilbert Smith, with whom he collaborated to document the full extent of what had happened. This resulted in the 2009 documentary and book “Hole in the Head: A Life Revealed.”

Smiling man in glasses and black hat, wearing a red shirt and black jacket, indoors by a stained glass window with "FAITH" text.

The film unveils Vertus’s secret in an emotional and confronting climax, showing, for the first time to the public—the wound he had carried since childhood. For many, it was not only a tragic revelation but also a painful reminder of the history of unethical medical experimentation inflicted on marginalised communities.



Vertus Hardiman died in 2007 at the age of 85. The wound he bore for nearly his entire life eventually became cancerous and contributed to his death.

He was not alone.


Throughout the 20th century, many African Americans were subjected to unethical medical experimentation without their consent. From the infamous Tuskegee syphilis study to secret radiation experiments like the one Vertus endured, these violations formed part of a broader legacy of racism in American medicine.


What sets Vertus’s story apart is the astonishing strength he demonstrated in enduring decades of pain without ever revealing his condition. It also serves as a reminder that the victims of historical injustices are not just statistics or case studies, they are individuals with families, dreams, and untold suffering.

Sources


bottom of page
google.com, pub-6045402682023866, DIRECT, f08c47fec0942fa0