Where will she go now?

Susan Bolgen cannot walk or drive a car. She cannot hold a conversation or write a letter.

Despite these handicaps, Bolgen faces eviction.

But she does not live in a typical apartment, and she is not dealing with a typical landlord.

Bolgen, 53, is one of 235 residents remaining at the Fernald Developmental Center in Waltham, the state's oldest public institution for the mentally disabled. The state wants to relocate them to group homes and other smaller facilities. Most are severely or profoundly retarded, meaning that they have the mental capabilities of a young child. More than half cannot walk, and one out of 10 relies on a tube to be fed. Their average age is 59.

The last chapter in the story of Fernald is charged with controversy, as have been the many chapters that came before it. Mental health advocates, as well as parents and guardians, are divided over the wisdom of moving the residents.

The Arc of Massachusetts, a statewide advocacy group for the mentally retarded, supports closing Fernald, arguing that disabled people should not be segregated from the rest of the community. But the Massachusetts Coalition of Families and Advocates for the Retarded is fighting to keep Fernald open, arguing that its residents have such severe disabilities and medical problems that all their services should be provided in one place. The coalition also contends that community-based group homes have high staff turnover and less oversight than state-run facilities.

If things had gone as originally planned, Fernald would be closed by now.

Just after taking office, Governor Mitt Romney said he wanted to phase out the old state schools, as institutions such as Fernald were originally known. Of the six remaining, Romney picked Fernald to close first. The last resident was to have left in June, but so far only 28 residents have been relocated.

Now, the state commissioner of mental retardation, Gerald J. Morrissey Jr., estimates that it will take three to four years to close Fernald. ''There's no target date from my point of view," he said. ''We're not guided by a clock."

At its peak, Fernald was home to more than 2,400 people who were deemed to be mentally retarded or juvenile delinquents. Some were dubbed ''morons" and ''feeble-minded." Today, less than a tenth of that number live on its 196 acres -- a campus that rivals nearby Brandeis University in size.

A long, tree-lined driveway leads off Trapelo Road up to the main administration building, a collegiate-looking brick structure with white columns, a clock tower, and paint peeling from its cupola. Across the lawn on the left, the old boys' dormitory stands empty. Rusty bars crisscross its large windows. Shrubs and trees grow wildly around the turn-of-the-century brick structure, their branches protruding through the surrounding fence.

Chained to the fence is a lone piece of playground equipment -- a circular, spinning platform with steel bars.

But the eerily quiet grounds belie Fernald's checkered history, one that has captured national attention through a new book by Michael D'Antonio, ''The State Boys Rebellion."

D'Antonio recounts the harrowing experiences of orphans at Fernald, once referred to as ''state boys" and ''state girls." They received little education, were forced to do manual labor, and some were used as subjects in medical experiments.

On Nov. 4, 1957, after enduring years of abuse at Fernald, a group of these ''state boys" rioted, starting fires in a ward, smashing windows, and soaking attendants with fire hoses. Today, the dilapidated building that once housed that ward is a bottle redemption center, where area residents recycle their empties for a nickel apiece.

In recent years, the state has moved away from institutionalization, shifting toward community-based care. Its policy is to place people in the ''least restrictive environment" possible so that they do not become isolated. Admissions to state schools such as Fernald essentially ended in 1993. The state allows only a handful of admissions each year, usually residents from other institutions or patients requiring only short-term treatment.

Of the 33,000 people served by the Department of Mental Retardation, only 1,077 are institutionalized, according to Morrissey. ''The majority of people live at home or with their family, or in community-based facilities," he said.

The state has closed three institutions for the mentally retarded: the Belchertown State School in 1992, the John T. Berry Rehabilitation Center in North Reading in 1995, and, most recently, the Paul A. Dever State School in Taunton in 2002.

The state's current plan to close Fernald offers to relocate residents to community group homes or -- if the patient needs constant care -- another state-run institution. Greater Boston offers about 20 state-funded group homes, according to state officials. Typically housing four to eight residents, they are staffed by state employees or private contractors.

Some residents will be able to stay at Fernald after it closes, according to the state. The state plans to keep a 65-bed skilled nursing facility at Fernald's Greene Building and to allow 24 mentally retarded residents to live in a section of the campus known as Malone Park. However, those residents would have to go off-campus for therapy and other services now provided at Fernald.

The state intends to maintain dental services on the site, as well as outpatient services at the Shriver Center, a research center on the Fernald campus.

''We are giving people options," Morrissey said. ''Understandably, they're faced with a difficult choice. They already made a difficult choice years ago, to place their son or daughter in a state facility."

Morrissey said that so far the placement process has taken about nine months for each resident. ''We want to work with the families," he said. ''We'll move people when they are ready and when the services and supports are there for them."

Meanwhile, state and local officials are discussing the possible redevelopment of the site if -- or when -- Fernald closes. Under consideration are preserving part of the site as open space and using other parcels for affordable housing, commercial development, and recreation.

Some opponents of closing Fernald say that the state in recent years has allowed services and maintenance to deteriorate. They are asking the courts to reopen the landmark 1972 case that reformed the state's institutions for the mentally retarded.

Beryl W. Cohen , the lawyer who spearheaded the original case that forced reform upon institutions across the state, has filed affidavits stating that speech therapy, psychological services, music therapy, medication, and staffing have been reduced at Fernald, while injuries and deaths have increased.

According to Morrissey, the University of Massachusetts medical school reviews every death within DMR, and deemed none of the recent deaths suspicious.

''They've all been reported and reviewed clinically," said Morrissey, attributing Fernald's higher mortality rate to its aging population, all of whom have mental, behavioral, and medical problems.

Morrissey acknowledged that staffing and funding have been reduced as Fernald's population has dropped. This fiscal year's budget is $42.3 million, down from $47.2 million in fiscal 2001. But, the commissioner said, the state has preserved a ratio of three staff members to each resident and has complied with federal government standards to receive Medicaid reimbursement.

While US District Judge Joseph L. Tauro decides whether to reopen the 1972 case, the future of Susan Bolgen and other Fernald residents is unclear. For many, the familiarity of voices, sights, and sensations is one of the few things they can grasp. While many of them lack the capacity to comprehend it, leaving Fernald would be one of the most momentous events in their lives.

Emily Sweeney can be reached at esweeney@globe.com.