Letters and stories

<body topmargin=0 leftmargin=0 marginheight=0 marginwidth=0> <table cellpadding=0 cellspacing=0 border=0><tr> <td valign="top" rowspan="2" width=210 BGCOLOR="#9999FF" TEXT="#080000" bgproperties="fixed" background="1c664643.jpg"> <div> <A HREF="id19.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Contact Us"><U><IMG SRC="15c65200.gif" border=0 width="101" height="32" ALIGN="BOTTOM" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0"></U></A></div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <div> <IMG SRC="195ad740.gif" border=0 width="173" height="116" ALIGN="BOTTOM" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0"></div> <bR> <bR> <bR> </td> <td valign="top" colspan=2 height=90 BGCOLOR="#99CCFF" TEXT="#080000" bgproperties="fixed" background="1c664661egdyqn.jpg"> <div> <B>Voices Of Children Alliance</B><B>®</B><FONT SIZE="2" COLOR="#0000CC" FACE="Times New Roman" ><B>   </B></FONT><FONT SIZE="2" COLOR="#3366FF" FACE="Times New Roman" ><B>|   </B><A HREF="index.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Voices Of Children Alliance"><U><B>home</B></U></A></FONT></div> <div> Letters, Stories and News Paper Articles</div> <div> </div> </td> </tr><tr> <td valign="top" height=390 colspan=2 BGCOLOR="#99CCFF" TEXT="#080000" bgproperties="fixed" background="1bd6c6c3.gif"> <div> Letters and stories</div> <div> Apr. 6, 01:00 EDT <FONT SIZE="5" COLOR="#000000" FACE="Times" >Dark past, bright future</FONT> </div> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> An abuse survivor rebuilds his life and strives to change a system that fails to protect children</div> <div> Douglas Dane</div> <div> Special to the Star</div> <div> <TABLE BORDER="0" CELLPADDING="1" CELLSPACING="1" WIDTH="177" BORDERCOLORLIGHT="#C0C0C0" BORDERCOLORDARK="#808080" FRAME="VOID" RULES="NONE" ALIGN="BOTTOM" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0" > <tR> <tD VALIGN=CENTER BGCOLOR=#FFFFFF HEIGHT= 19 WIDTH="173"><IMG BORDER="0" SRC="1x1.gif" HEIGHT="19" ALIGN="bottom" WIDTH="173" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0"></tD> </tR> </TABLE></div> <div> Before I was born, I was set up for abuse. </div> <div> Born in October, 1963, to a woman who had already abandoned three children to the child welfare system, I was placed for adoption into an abusive environment by the Children's Aid Society, a sanctioned agency that is mandated to protect children. The placement could not have been more wrong. </div> <div> In a time when our national news is riddled with examples of childhood abuse, when we should have the resources to provide guaranteed safe havens for children, my story must be told. It is not good enough to shake our heads, pour out a small amount of disgust, then move on to brushing our teeth before we turn out the light and forget. </div> <div> Stories like mine need to be placed before our consciousness until we, as a society, take responsibility. Complacent, aging bureaucracies and under-stimulated consciences must be revitalized before more lives are lost to physical or emotional death, crime and the perpetuated cycle of abuse. The myth that we do all we can to protect children needs to be seen for what it is. </div> <div> I am stepping forward — with fear, anger and hope — in the belief that my story can make a difference. I believe that others will relate to it, that a collective voice can make a difference and that there are good people within a decaying, top-heavy system who will muster the courage to do what they know they should. </div> <div> In my case, I have learned through interviews with the Children's Aid Society in Waterloo Region and through files received through the Freedom of Information Act that grave errors were made. I was placed poorly and monitored dismally. Later, when police investigations and child welfare intervention were necessary, both failed me. </div> <div> So I pose the question: In the many situations of abuse that were part of my life, who was responsible? My adoptive parents? The child welfare system? The police? Or was it just me? </div> <div> That last question, unfortunately, is what the child internalizes. Like other victims of childhood abuse, I took on the blame and the shame. Therein lies the crux of my story — that the damage done to children's psyches and souls, in a society as liberal and as enlightened as Canada's, is entirely preventable. </div> <div> I was adopted as a 6-month-old baby. The parents chosen for me were both alcoholics. Relatives knew. Friends knew. They had also been approved for a child eighteen months previously; he was adopted as a newborn. We became brothers. </div> <div> From what I have gathered within the past year, it was the most rudimentary of home studies, yet it would have been simple to unearth that my parents were alcoholics who should never have been given the gift of one child, let alone two. </div> <div> Instead, case notes indicate my father was "passive but quietly friendly and congenial" and that my mother "lacked the social graces of a very feminine woman." This man, whom the system turned into a father of two vulnerable boys, abused not only his own body, but that of his equally abusive wife. This woman, whom the system turned into a mother, abused her body, her husband and her two adopted sons. </div> <div> Every day was a ritual of abuse and survival permeated by the stink of stale beer and cigarettes amid the squalor of a living room turned into my mother's bedroom. My dad had to have a lock on his bedroom door because my mom, drunk and violent every day, would instigate fights with him. </div> <div> The grind was the same: Get up, go to school, come home for lunch. We weren't allowed to stay in the safety of the school. No, filled with the dread of what might lie ahead, we had to return to our mother at "home." Then it was back to school and "home" again for more. </div> <div> Often, my brother and I would be assigned bizarre, crazy-making chores. On one occasion, my mother made me paint the living room to cover up the beer and bloodstains on the walls from her fights with my father. Other times, I would have to roll cigarettes for her while she ran around the house yelling and screaming. </div> <div> Child welfare records bring that life back hauntingly for me. When I was 6 years young, notes were made by social workers because my mother had "suffered a nervous collapse." The child protection worker observed that "the home situation had deteriorated over the past few weeks ... Mr. Dane had been drinking quite heavily and beaten his wife. She had charged him with assault." There are notes that foster care was needed, that "the worker saw Mr. Dane as being burdened with troubles of the world" and that "Mrs. Dane had a previous mental breakdown two years earlier." </div> <div> My brother and I were placed in a foster home on a farm for the summer and part of the fall. We liked the foster parents, but missed our dog Mitzi. Case notes indicate that there were six contacts during that time — two with our father, two with our mother and two with both parents. </div> <div> And then this: "Mrs. Dane returned home on Oct. 28 and the boys were returned. Mr. Dane had endeavoured to remain away from his drinking and Mrs. Dane had endeavoured to maintain some stability in trying to work out the marriage. The boys were involved in the Scout program and hockey and Sunday school. Case was closed Jan. 28, 1971." </div> <div> That was it, tidily worded and tucked away in the archives. Euphemisms work wonders! On paper. </div> <div> In reality, as we advanced in age and collective misery, the daily rituals mutated into greater darkness. </div> <div> After school, we'd wait, often outside because of Mom's drunkenness, for Dad to get home from work. My brother and I would stay out long enough for Mom to pass out drunk so that we'd be able to get in the house safely. </div> <div> On worse nights or on weekends, we'd sit locked in Dad's room to be safe from Mom when she came yelling and pounding on the door. If she did get a hold of Dad, the fights would be bloody. </div> <div> Police visits became the norm for our neighbourhood. Shame became my most constant companion. </div> <div> <TABLE BORDER="0" CELLPADDING="1" CELLSPACING="1" WIDTH="282" BORDERCOLORLIGHT="#C0C0C0" BORDERCOLORDARK="#808080" FRAME="VOID" RULES="NONE" ALIGN="BOTTOM" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0" > <tR> <tD VALIGN=CENTER HEIGHT= 94 ><NOBR><bR> <div> <B>`Two boys abandoned </B></div> <div> <B>by the agency that found </B></div> <div> <B>a mother figure for them' </B></div> <bR> </NOBR></tD> </tR> </TABLE></div> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> At least once a week, I ended up running away, coming back after midnight when I knew she would be passed out. At times, I stayed overnight at a safe home, with neighbours. Our neighbours were our guardian angels. </div> <div> When I was 12, the Children's Aid Society was once again called in to assist — this time by my mother. Again, they did nothing substantial to intervene and protect my brother and me. </div> <div> Case notes state that she wanted information on counselling and that she "sounded very agitated, possibly inebriated. The children are finding the situation quite upsetting." </div> <div> That's all there is: two boys abandoned by the agency that found a mother figure for them. Tokenism. A brief note to file. Case closed. </div> <div> Finally, one day, I was old enough and strong enough. When I came home from school, my dad was in the basement and my mom was starting to beat on him. I put her in a headlock, carried her upstairs and threw her out the side door. Locking her out, I called the police. </div> <div> As they were putting her in the cruiser, she yelled to the police and the neighbours: "My son tried to murder me." I was 13 years old. </div> <div> There was a final note on this from the child welfare agency: "Mrs. Dane's alcoholism is getting worse and she left the home on July 8. Mr. Dane met with a worker and seemed to be looking for a way to keep her out of the home now that she had left. Mr. Dane (was) advised to seek legal counsel." </div> <div> Period. Case closed again. </div> <div> With my mother gone, I could run the streets. Now a broken, sober man, my father suffered from the effects of alcoholism, bad memories of his World War II experiences, and feelings of failure as a man and a father. And so it was that I fell into the clutches of a ring of sexual predators. </div> <div> Four Kitchener-Waterloo men corralled 23 boys and persuaded us that our relationship was love. That's how desperate we were. That's how perverted they were. Two years of abuse culminated in my kidnapping, when they took me to Halifax. I was 15. </div> <div> I found my way home a week later. Soon afterwards, the police — two giants in uniform — presented what they knew and conducted a brief interview to gather more facts. Then they were gone. They didn't talk to my father or brother. They left me alone to carry the burden of shame. </div> <div> In the copies of police reports I obtained, entire sections were whited out to protect the privacy of others involved. All I could see were a few typed notes of the interview with me and vague "footprints" left by the Children's Aid Society, the photographs that were seized, and the name of the stereo store and the Boy Scout troop the predators were involved with. (The four men were convicted on various sex charges in 1980 and received short sentences.) </div> <div> More secrets, more shame! </div> <div> I quit high school three times. In my heart, I knew I should stay in school, but I couldn't do it. In spite of my high marks, I followed the path that had been laid out for me by the people who had abused me and by the authorities and professionals who had failed me. </div> <div> <TABLE BORDER="0" CELLPADDING="1" CELLSPACING="1" WIDTH="282" BORDERCOLORLIGHT="#C0C0C0" BORDERCOLORDARK="#808080" FRAME="VOID" RULES="NONE" ALIGN="BOTTOM" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0" > <tR> <tD VALIGN=CENTER HEIGHT= 94 ><NOBR><bR> <div> <B>`I could run the streets ... </B></div> <div> <B>I fell into the clutches of </B></div> <div> <B>a ring of sexual predators' </B></div> <bR> </NOBR></tD> </tR> </TABLE></div> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> The next 15 years were the toughest. I tried almost every drug possible and broke free only because the altered state inflamed my feelings of inadequacy and shame. I was fortunate enough to experience the pain and paranoia caused by doing drugs, and thus saved from disappearing into the sinkhole that childhood trauma often leads to. </div> <div> Searching for validation through success, I worked at a number of jobs, failed at businesses, went bankrupt and finally landed on my feet. I married twice and divorced twice. The feelings of being unaccepted and unsure of myself ate away at me. Little, dark, nasty, blathering voices always danced at the back of my consciousness. </div> <div> Both my parents are gone now. I have survived the loss of a mother four times: my birth mother's abandonment, my eviction of my adoptive mother, my adoptive mother's death from cancer two years ago and my birth mother's unwillingness to acknowledge me as her own now. </div> <div> In therapy, I have worked on dealing with my losses and the aftershock of childhood abuse. Some people who have made a difference in my life — neighbours who cared, one cop who wanted to protect abused kids, a few teachers who made an impact, and two wives and their families who were good people — were like delicate lilies along that path to healing. </div> <div> Now I am successful in business and financially secure. I have found four natural siblings and my birth mother. And I am at long last beginning to see purpose in my life and to live in peace. Someone, somewhere once astutely said: "The average person tiptoes through life, hoping to make it safely to death." Something inside me — call it what you will, soul, self, truth, God — has sometimes nudged and often propelled me along the right path. </div> <div> I am in the awesome process of finding the love and the beauty in conscious living. The furtherance of my dream is that I may encourage others to tell their stories and begin to live big. I see it happening now as I speak to high school students and as I take steps to write a book, my story. </div> <div> Our child welfare system in this amazing nation is out of sync with the needs of today's society. Part of my dream is to see the agencies involved, from child welfare to the courts to police services, revamped in favour of the protection of youngsters. To do this, the system must be funded properly and managed by creative, brilliant and daring people who will walk in where angels truly have not been let loose. </div> <div> It is not facile to say that our children are our future; it is unequivocally true. Once the front end of the machine, the child welfare system, is rebalanced and working smoothly and creatively, the judicial and police systems will hum along with it. </div> <div> We need to offer people a safe haven where they can come forward and tell their stories and reveal the secrets that could haunt them until they die. These dark, ugly stories hold us back, leaving us suffering through a life with little self-confidence and causing us to hide in the shadows of our true selves. </div> <div> We must all come to terms with our stories, whatever they are, and heal. That's a given in life. What is not a given is the assistance of nurturing and protective people along the way. </div> <bR> <div> <I>Douglas Dane wrote this in collaboration with his therapist, Ellyn Peirson of Guelph. Dane is a national manager in the financial services industry. He tells his story at high schools in Ontario to raise awareness of child abuse. You can e-mail him at </I><FONT SIZE="3" COLOR="#0000FF" FACE="Arial" ><I><U>doug@talkingworks.com</U></I></FONT><I> or write to him at 218 Silvercreek Pkwy. N., Suite 203, Unit 17A, Guelph, Ont. N1H 8E8. </I></div> <bR> <div> <I><B><U>Nov. 9, 02:00 EDT  </U></B></I></div> <div> <I><B><U>CAS calls for adoption reform </U></B></I></div> <div> <I><B><U>Fragmented system keeps children from finding new families </U></B></I></div> <div> <I><B><U>Leslie Papp and Jim Rankin</U></B></I></div> <div> <I><B><U>Staff Reporters </U></B></I></div> <div> <I><B><U>RELATED LINKS </U></B></I></div> <div> <I><B><U>· Wanted: Babies (Sep. 29) </U></B></I></div> <div> <I><B><U>· Baby sleuth eases parents' fears (Sep. 29) </U></B></I></div> <div> <I><B><U>· Nobody's children (Sep. 29) </U></B></I></div> <div> <I><B><U>· Matching system `archaic' (Sep. 30) </U></B></I></div> <div> <I><B><U>· Chaotic system discourages adoption (Sep. 30) </U></B></I></div> <div> <I><B><U>· Toronto CAS eyes overseas adoption (Oct. 1) </U></B></I></div> <div> <I><B><U>· The birth of adoption's new deal? (Oct. 1) </U></B></I></div> <div> <I><B><U>· B.C. leads adoption challenge (Oct. 2) </U></B></I></div> <div> <I><B><U>· The foster parent trap (Oct. 6) </U></B></I></div> <div> <I><B><U>· Pair delights in adopted girl - others not so lucky (Jan. 13) </U></B></I></div> <div> <I><B>Children's aid societies are pressing the province for sweeping adoption reform, including creation of a centralized system that would end chaotic differences in service.</B></I></div> <bR> <div> <I><B>A flawed adoption system has left thousands of Ontario children who are wards of the province with little chance of finding a permanent home. And society officials warn the plight of these kids will only worsen as more come into care.</B></I></div> <bR> <div> <I><B>In an Oct. 22 letter obtained by The Star, marked "personal and confidential," Jeanette Lewis, executive director of the Ontario Association of Children's Aid Societies, urged the province to move quickly on reforms.</B></I></div> <bR> <div> <I><B>Needed is "a new model for adoption services," she wrote to Cynthia Lees, assistant deputy minister of community and social services. "This initiative should be given priority, as it has broad support in the field."</B></I></div> <bR> <div> <I><B>Couriered to Lees with the letter was a 17-page "adoption initiative" and notice that executive directors of Ontario's children's aid societies had approved the enclosed reforms and pledged more than $54,200 to develop a business plan and hire a project manager — the first steps toward making the initiative a reality.</B></I></div> <bR> <div> <I><B>Changes sought include:</B></I></div> <bR> <div> <I><B>Standardized rules and practices, ending a fragmented system that allows major jurisdictional differences. </B></I></div> <bR> <div> <I><B>Closer co-operation between the CAS and private adoption agencies.</B></I></div> <bR> <div> <I><B>Better adoption training for CAS social workers.</B></I></div> <bR> <div> <I><B>New "adoption friendly" court processes.</B></I></div> <bR> <div> <I><B>More funds for adoption, including subsidies for families taking special-needs children.</B></I></div> <bR> <div> <I><B>"The adoption system is strained," Lewis said in an interview. The stakes are high, with many kids in desperate need of a family, she said. "There are ways to move forward, and we just have to do it. We can't afford to fail."</B></I></div> <bR> <div> <I><B>More than 6,400 Ontario children are crown wards, meaning that the province is their legal guardian. That number has jumped 22 per cent over the past two years and is expected to keep rising. Caring for them costs about $100 million a year. Under the current system, only 3 to 4 per cent are even considered for adoption. </B></I></div> <bR> <div> <I><B>Finding permanent homes for more crown wards would benefit the children and ultimately save Ontario money, Lewis said. "From a lot of perspectives, it makes sense."</B></I></div> <bR> <div> <I><B>If half of Ontario's crown wards found adoptive homes, the province would save $50 million yearly, note the proposal's authors. And more would find homes if the system, run through 52 societies, was reformed.</B></I></div> <bR> <div> <I><B>The CAS report acknowledges a fundamental problem standing in the way of adopting out more children: The way funding works now, agencies have little financial incentive to place children in permanent homes. That must change, the report notes.</B></I></div> <bR> <div> <I><B>The province currently gives the societies just $7.1 million a year specifically for adoptions. The agencies say much more is needed, because a new emphasis on getting children out of high-risk homes means placing more children in care each year.</B></I></div> <bR> <div> <I><B>Dan Miles, assistant to Community and Social Services Minister John Baird, said the province is considering the suggested reforms.</B></I></div> <bR> <div> <I><B>Lewis said a provincewide database would allow societies to easily share data about prospective parents and crown wards in need of a home.</B></I></div> <bR> <div> <I><B>Six studies of Ontario's adoption system since 1996 have suggested reforms that would provide more permanent homes, but little has been done, the CAS report notes.</B></I></div> <bR> <div> <I><B>"We think it's just so important that we start to move," Lewis said.</B></I></div> <bR> <div> <I><B>The report underlines problems revealed by The Star in a recent series on adoption, titled Nobody's Children.</B></I></div> <bR> <div> <I><B>Star reporters contacted every CAS in the province and found chaos. Everything — from basic procedures, to waiting times, to costs — differed from one agency to the next. </B></I></div> <bR> <div> <I><B>The Star also found that new court deadlines meant to speed children through the wardship process and free them for adoption sooner aren't being me</B></I></div> <bR> <bR> <div> <I><B><U>Letter from CAS workers in protest!!</U></B></I></div> <bR> <div> <B><U>Friday, August 10, 2001</U></B></div> <bR> <div> To the Minister of Social Services and Mike Harris.</div> <bR> <div> Some of us want to see change.   We don't like doing the dirty work of corrupt offices and politicians.</div> <bR> <div> We are a group of insiders, forced to work under duress, not able to say and do the things that are fair and protect children who are truly at risk.</div> <bR> <div> Though we pose as professionals who are supposed to help families and protect children, we are now criminals.  Not because we want to, but because for too long, apathy has caused workers to not question the ethics of the very people who have the power of life and death over children's and family lives.  We who work quietly within to try to make honesty out of our fellow workers, supervisors and politicians.  All but the very dysfunctional families can be saved and helped.</div> <bR> <div> Some of us became alarmed when we read the court papers in the case of a wrongfully accused priest many years ago.  For years, he was the pet project of a vengeful, out of control worker.  The lawsuit he won against the Durham Children's Aid Society was a tremendous moral victory, but why was the worker, who was found in court to have maliciously lied and falsified critical documents, not ever arrested?  Why did she simply relocate to another Children's Aid region.  We demand that the premier and his ministers immediately make public, the judge's words of condemnation to the worker, and then please explain why she was never arrested.  Any other citizen would have been.</div> <bR> <div> There are those of us in the field that are sick at heart to be remotely involved with criminal liars.  It makes all workers look bad.  But through the dedication of groups of people who know the truth, both inside the Children's Aid Society, and advocacy group members, this problem has remained in the public consciousness.  In some cases, it has made no difference.</div> <bR> <div> Two Leamington children, drowned by their insane father, would be alive today.  But they are not.  The Children's Aid Society had many reports and concerns raised by citizens, for almost a year.  The police were even called out on an assault charge, but the children were ignored - ignored to death.  Our fellow agency told the press that the CAS had done all the right things, but that is untrue.</div> <bR> <div> Some of us have left this branch of social work, to try and fix things by helping grassroots organizations help expose the unbelievable evil.  There are others of us who remain behind the scenes, but our hands are tied.  There have been many workers who have spoken out, or tried to do the right thing in the most corrupt of settings.  Being held responsible for criminal and negligent actions, is the only way to stop children from dying, and families being unnecessarily torn apart.</div> <bR> <div> This is the first of a planned schedule of dropping information, and publicity that would put some of our co-workers in jail and ensure that they never work with children and families again.  </div> <bR> <div> The public perception is that all CAS worker's lie in court and falsify sworn testimony.  At our professional peril, we have gotten the right things done in most cases we have dealt with, but children are still dying and innocent families are forced into years of harassment by an agency that has no policing and answer to no one.</div> <bR> <div> If this is a revolution - then let it begin now.  Information of how children die in Canada, and how parents have become crazy from trying to please an agency that is never ever going to be pleased.  We are given an agenda in social work, and the time is coming when that multifaceted and horrible agenda will be made public.</div> <bR> <div> We recommend that court records be examined.  They will find vendettas, powered by the personal anger they suffer from, to ensure a victory for the agency, you will find perjury on the stand, falsified documents, secret filing systems and much worse.  Children in this country are merely a commodity, a make work and money game, where the best interests of children are rarely observed.</div> <bR> <div> Chief Julian Fantino is a hero to honest people everywhere.  He could have stuck his head in the sand and continued to allow corruption within the police force.  He demanded, and got a police force that was held accountable.  We are doing no less here.  </div> <bR> <div> The lies and the pain have to stop.  Therefore, as time goes on, more and more critical and embarrassing stories will be leaked to people we trust.  And we won't stop until Premier Harris appoints an independent review committee to look at records about how we are forced to operate under a shroud of lies and “CAS must win” at any cost, even the cost of truth and lives.</div> <bR> <div> It is time to clean house.  Crimes of murder by CAS will come to light.  Then and only then, will we be able to do our jobs.  The “found” records are only the beginning, and we continue to seek out more honest Children's Aid workers, filter the information to the public.  This is just the beginning. </div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <div> Wednesday, May 9, 2001 </div> <bR> <div>     Special needs families suing Tories</div> <bR> <div>     $500M class action for cutting back services</div> <bR> <div>  By ANTONELLA ARTUSO, QUEEN'S PARK   BUREAU  CHIEF</div> <bR> <div>       Families of special needs kids launched a $500-million class-action lawsuit against the Ontario government yesterday, claiming it is breaking its own law by cuttin back services for their children. </div> <bR> <div>     Lawyer Laughlin Campbell said about 2,000 Ontario</div> <div>     families are represented in the suit, which seeks damages for a 1997 government decision to end special funding agreements that tailored programming to the needs of unique children. </div> <bR> <div>     "It's only by joining together that the families have a</div> <div>     chance of righting this wrong," Campbell said. </div> <bR> <div>     FUNDING CUTS </div> <bR> <div>     He said the funding agreements, which covered almost 190 kids and cost $11 million in 1997, were cut by the Tories even though they were enshrined in legislation. </div> <bR> <div>     Anne Larcade, mother of a disabled child and spokesman for Special Kids of Ontario, said it now costs the average family up to $40,000 a year to provide even basic care. </div> <bR> <div>     CAS CUSTODY </div> <bR> <div>     Campbell said families had to sign over custody of their child to the Children's Aid Society in order to access the care needed. </div> <bR> <div>     Although the government has now stopped the practice of requiring parents to sign over custody, Campbell said i hasn't committed itself to reinstating full funding. </div> <bR> <div>     Instead, the ministry of community and social services</div> <div>     reacts to individual families who come forward with</div> <div>     complaints, he said. </div> <bR> <div>     Premier Mike Harris said in the Legislature yesterday his government considers it a priority to provide services t special needs kids. </div> <bR> <div>     "To access special needs supports ... no parent will ever be forced to give up their children," he said. </div> <bR> <div> <B>Shame on Ontario for</B></div> <div> <B>                    abandoning these children</B></div> <bR> <div>                      MARGARET WENTE</div> <bR> <div>                      Thursday, May 10, 2001 </div> <bR> <div>    When Alexandre was eight years old, Ann                             Larcade realized she couldn't care for him on            </div> <div> her own for much longer. That was 2½ years</div> <div>  ago. He is neurologically impaired. He can't</div> <div>  feel heat or cold, and is impervious to pain. He</div> <div>  can speak and even read a bit, and he is a kind</div> <div>   and loving little boy. But he had started</div> <div>   slipping back, regressing mentally. He had</div> <div>   terrible rage attacks.</div> <bR> <div>  She couldn't find a place for him.</div> <bR> <div>  "No one would take him," she recalls. "Two</div> <div>  different social workers told me I should take</div> <div>    him to the hospital emergency room, and leave</div> <div>    him there alone with a note." She didn't do it.</div> <div>    But dozens of families have signed away</div> <div>     custody of their disabled children in order to</div> <div>     get them cared for. Many others have given up</div> <div>      their jobs and spent all their savings to try to</div> <div>      keep their kids at home.</div> <bR> <div>      Ann Larcade, who's the general manager of a</div> <div>       large resort in Muskoka, is speaking up for all</div> <div>       of them. She is heading a $500-million</div> <div>        class-action lawsuit against the Province of</div> <div>        Ontario to win back the help their children are</div> <div>                      legally entitled to.</div> <bR> <div>          "It's really not about the money," she told me.</div> <div>               "We want the government to talk to us."</div> <bR> <div>           Yesterday's budget pledged more money for</div> <div>            the disabled, and it's welcome. But it's</div> <div>            earmarked for other things. These kids need</div> <div>            intensive home support or long-term residential</div> <div>            placement. Right now they're getting neither.</div> <bR> <div>             Mike Harris, the Premier, has a special-needs</div> <div>             child himself. He has told Ms. Larcade he</div> <div>              understands and wants to help. But since</div> <div>              1997, these kids have been caught in a</div> <div>               bureaucratic limbo that has grown worse and</div> <div>                      worse.</div> <bR> <div>                The government downloaded the responsibility</div> <div>                for special-needs kids onto local agencies, but</div> <div>                not the money to provide for them. "When you</div> <div>                call any organization that deals with special</div> <div>                 needs, they say 'we can't help you,' " says Ms.</div> <div>                      Larcade.</div> <bR> <div>                  Everyone is theoretically committed to keeping</div> <div>                   the disabled out of institutions and in the</div> <div>                   community, if possible with their families. But</div> <div>                    theoretical commitment is cheap. Every type                 </div> <div>                    of support service parents need is severely</div> <div>                     rationed, short-term, and subject to</div> <div>                     renegotiation.</div> <bR> <div>                      Ms. Larcade is used to fighting for her son.</div> <div>                      He's 11 now. Finally, last fall, she found a</div> <div>                      good group home for Alex in Guelph, Ont., a</div> <div>                     seven-hour drive from her home in Huntsville.           </div> <bR> <div>                      But there was an awful price: In order to get</div> <div>                      him in, she'd have to give him up.</div> <bR> <div>                      "Everyone I talked to said there was no way</div> <div>                    out," she says. "They told me in order to keep</div> <div>                      services for him I would have to sign over full</div> <div>                      wardship to the Crown." She would have no</div> <div>                      say in where he lived, or what treatment he'd</div> <div>                    receive, or how he might spend the rest of his</div> <div>                      foreshortened life.</div> <bR> <div>                      "If my child had cancer, I wouldn't have to go</div> <div>                     through this." She was at the end of the road.</div> <div>                      Then she read about the Rosatis.</div> <bR> <div>                      Elena and Marco Rosati are the parents of</div> <div>                  2-year-old Luca, a severely disabled child who</div> <div>                      needs round-the-clock care. They too were</div> <div>                      told by the province that they'd have to give</div> <div>                      him up in order to get long-term care for him.</div> <div>                      Rather than give in, they went public.</div> <bR> <div>                The image of a heartless government snatching</div> <div>                 disabled children from their loving, desperate</div> <div>                  parents is, to say the least, bad press. So the</div> <div>                  province settled fast. It agreed to pay for</div> <div>                  Luca's care as long as required, no strings</div> <div>                   attached.</div> <bR> <div>                      Ann Larcade demanded, and got, the same</div> <div>                  deal. But there are thousands of other parents</div> <div>                    without her resources. That's why she agreed</div> <div>                    to head the class-action suit. She's fighting</div> <div>                      for them now.</div> <bR> <div>                      There's Barbara Edwards, a single mother</div> <div>                with a teenaged son named Blake. She used to</div> <div>               have a special-needs agreement administered</div> <div>                through her local children's aid society. It</div> <div>                was enough for her to keep him home until he's</div> <div>                 a little older.</div> <bR> <div>                      Then she moved, and the funding rules</div> <div>                   changed, and she was stuck. She had to give</div> <div>                    him up. Now another CAS has custody, and it</div> <div>                    won't give him back. Because she can't get</div> <div>                    access to services on her own, it argues that</div> <div>                      he's a child in need of protection -- even if</div> <div>                      there is no issue of neglect or abuse.</div> <bR> <div>                      There's Susan Clough, a single mother who</div> <div>                    cares for her eight-year-old son Jared 24</div> <div>                    hours a day. She's a capable parent with high</div> <div>                    earning potential, but she's on welfare. Either</div> <div>                    that, or give him up.</div> <bR> <div>                    There's Leonard Nieberg, a single father with</div> <div>                   sole custody of two disabled boys. He used to</div> <div>                   earn $50,000 a year as a construction</div> <div>                  foreman. He ran out of money and now he's on</div> <div>                  welfare too. He wants some in-home support,</div> <div>                 and a school placement, and assistance on</div> <div>                  weekends for his sons. He's in negotiations</div> <div>                      now.</div> <bR> <div>                      The toll on families with disabled children is</div> <div>                    always very high. Most marriages, including</div> <div>                    Ann's, don't survive the strain. "Nobody can</div> <div>                    possibly understand the day-to-day demands</div> <div>                     unless they're in it," she says. All she wants </div> <div>                   is  for the government to stop making it worse.                                               </div> <bR> <div>                     <B> mwente@globeandmail.com</B></div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <div> SOURCE: Massachusetts News</div> <div> 13 February, 2001</div> <bR> <bR> <div> Newborn Snatched By DSS From Parents Who Were In Hiding</div> <bR> <div> Mother and Father Shackled in Lowell For Not Handing Over Infant</div> <bR> <div> By Ed Oliver</div> <div> February 13, 2001</div> <bR> <div> The parents of a two-month-old girl were arrested for</div> <div> contempt yesterday at Lowell District Court after they</div> <div> refused to disclose the location of their baby to DSS which was seeking to take the infant from them.</div> <bR> <div> Neil and Heidi Howard sat shackled in a holding cell for</div> <div> several hours yesterday. They were released after their baby</div> <div> girl was located by DSS at the home of their pastor. Social workers took the baby away and DSS now has</div> <div> custody of all three of their children.</div> <bR> <div> Neil Howard told Massachusetts News, "The contempt charge would have been thirty days, we were willing, of course, to spend at least that long to protect her." Heidi added, "We were willing to spend 18 years in jail to</div> <div> protect our daughter."</div> <bR> <div> The couple hid with their baby for two weeks at a friend's</div> <div> apartment leading up to yesterday's developments. The mother told MassNews through her tears that her baby needs her and she won't be there for her.</div> <bR> <div> The Howards haven't had their day in court yet, according to their attorney Greg Hession, even though it's been over a year since DSS took the Howard's</div> <div> other two children. They have two sons, Christopher, who is now 10-years-old, and Ethan who is five.</div> <bR> <div> Attorney Greg Hession, who handles DSS cases on a regular basis and is aghast at what happens to good families at the hands of the agency, told Mass News, "These people at DSS don't have any idea how to respect the due process rights of parents. Consequently they go past the limits they're allowed under the law. That's what they did in this case, they've been doing this for over a year now in this case."</div> <bR> <div> DSS Noticed She Was No Longer Pregnant</div> <bR> <div> Neil Howard explained to MassNews what happened in this most recent episode with DSS. Shortly after a supervised visit with their sons, which he explained occurs for one hour a month under strict rules such as no hugging or sitting on laps, DSS noticed that Heidi was no longer pregnant. She must have had her baby.</div> <bR> <div> DSS began calling the couple demanding they bring the infant to the DSS office "to be viewed." If they did not comply, DSS would have to take what they called appropriate measures. They said it was very serious and they had concerns. The Howards said they were extremely wary after the terrible treatment their family had suffered so far at the hands of the social service agency.</div> <bR> <div> "We had already taken Jessica to a pediatrician, she already had been viewed by a court-appointed GAL and a court-appointed doctor. She was thriving. The</div> <div> doctor was thrilled. She was gaining weight and doing</div> <div> terrific. It was evident from the DSS answering machine</div> <div> messages that they were going to take the baby, so we</div> <div> decided to leave our home and stay with friends.</div> <bR> <div> "We basically hid out with them for a couple of weeks. We heard through our attorney that DSS was filing for custody based on nothing. They basically said because of past 'abuse,' which they still haven't proven to this day.</div> <div> They said they needed to take this newborn child. We hope someday to prove there is absolutely no neglect or abuse in this family.</div> <bR> <div> "Today we came to court. They ordered us to produce the child. We refused.</div> <bR> <div> We had already arranged with our pastor to take the child and place her temporarily with people they trusted. We were then arrested and incarcerated until they could somehow find the baby. They later told us they did manage to take our baby from us, so now they have all of our children."</div> <bR> <div> Taken from Pastor's Home</div> <bR> <div> Attorney Gregory Hession gave the office phone number of thepastor to the court in hopes the Howards would not be jailed.</div> <bR> <div> Pastor Montel B. Wilder of Grace Baptist Church in Pepperell told MassNews that instead of DSS calling him at his office as he expected, the social workers went straight to his home with the police. The baby was still at</div> <div> home with the pastor's wife.</div> <bR> <div> DSS told the wife they had a court order and were taking the child immediately. She managed to stall them long enough to call her husband who rushed home.</div> <bR> <div> The pastor refused at first to hand over the child, telling</div> <div> DSS that the parents entrusted the baby to him. The police, however, explained they had a court order and they would have to take the baby. The pastor said he</div> <div> realized there wasn't much he could do.</div> <bR> <div> Pastor Wilder said if DSS had called him at his office, he would not have violated his parishioner's confidentiality and would not have told them where the baby was.</div> <bR> <div> "It was just a beautiful baby," he said. "The little girl</div> <div> was in excellent health. It looked fine. There was no way</div> <div> that baby was abused in any way."</div> <bR> <div> He said the Howards seemed to be fine parents. He recounted how the mother showed great concern that morning when she wrote out instructions for the</div> <div> baby and made sure it had food, diapers, and that the</div> <div> Wilders knew what to do when it burped and slept. "She wrote out everything for us."</div> <bR> <div> Attorney Hession commented, "DSS said they had a court order. But they proceeded to ask for this child from these parents without ever verifying the truth about the past allegations against the family first. If the</div> <div> parents had the opportunity to actually have a hearing with cross-examination and testimony under oath, which has never been afforded to these parents yet in a year-and-a-half, they are confident they can disprove</div> <div> these allegations. Therefore this child would not have had to have been ripped away from its parents. So the problem is due process. All these cases, the problem is due process.</div> <bR> <bR> <div> "They refuse to respect our constitutional system which</div> <div> gives a presumption that something isn't true unless there is actual proof and an opportunity to be heard and an opportunity to cross examine witnesses."</div> <bR> <div> The Howards and their attorney met with MassNews months ago with DSS records and other documentation to tell the details of their story, which will be</div> <div> covered in a separate article. They appear to be a loving</div> <div> couple who are distraught over the loss of their children.</div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <div> Tuesday, January 9, 2001</div> <bR> <div> The Halifax Herald Limited</div> <bR> <div> Man guilty of manslaughter in shaking death </div> <bR> <div> CALGARY (CP) - A Calgary man accused of violently shaking his 2 1/2-year-old stepson was found guilty Monday of manslaughter. </div> <bR> <div> As Gordon Neil Singer was led out of a Calgary courtroom in handcuffs after the verdict, his wife, Kim, collapsed sobbing into the arms of family members. </div> <bR> <div> Singer, 28, was convicted in the death of Kim's son, Cole Thompson. The toddler died on June 7, 1999, from massive brain injuries. </div> <bR> <div> Singer consistently denied touching Cole, saying the boy struck his head during a temper tantrum. </div> <bR> <div> But Justice Paul Chrumka ruled that medical testimony on Cole's injuries pointed to shaken baby syndrome. </div> <bR> <div> Outside the courthouse, Cole's father, Jim Thompson, said he was relieved by the guilty verdict. But he broke down in tears when asked about what he had heard during the two-week trial. </div> <bR> <div> Singer will be sentenced Thursday.</div> <bR> <div> City, National Rape Statistics Highly Suspect</div> <div> By Mark Fazlollah - WEnews correspondent</div> <bR> <div> PHILADELPHIA (WOMENSENEWS)--Jesine Williams, 12, is a remarkable child.</div> <bR> <div> The tiny seventh grader told state prosecutors how the first Philadelphia police officer who responded to her January 1996 rape had refused to</div> <div> believe that any crime was committed. She told them how the initial investigator from Philadelphia's sex crimes unit also botched the case.</div> <bR> <div> For nearly five years, Jesine had again and again insisted that she knew the name of the rapist--and last fall a DNA test proved that she was right.</div> <div> In December, a Philadelphia jury convicted Jasper Washington, the man Jesine first identified as her rapist in 1996. For four years, police did not bother to interview him.</div> <bR> <div> Jesine, whose family allowed her to be identified by her middle name, had to do battle in order to jail her rapist.</div> <bR> <div> Her fight is vivid evidence of a broken system in Philadelphia and perhaps in other cities where police ignore and dismiss rape complaints, fail to</div> <div> report rapes, miscategorize and disguise them and manipulate statistics in order to simplify their work or bolster their departments' or their cities'</div> <div> images. Often, police believe that alleged victims are lying and categorize reports as "unfounded."</div> <bR> <div> And all of these questionable statistics are fed to the FBI, which each year receives crime data from 16,000 police departments. But the bureau does</div> <div> little to monitor the accuracy of the reporting.</div> <bR> <div> Women's groups are not surprised.</div> <bR> <div> "We've been hoodwinked for 18 years," said Carol E. Tracy, executive director of the Women's Law Project in Philadelphia. But she gave the police</div> <div> credit for admitting past errors. "Admitting the truth about the scandalous record in the face of public scrutiny took real courage."</div> <bR> <div> Philadelphia Allows Women's Groups to Check 'False' Rape Claims</div> <bR> <div> Responding to public pressure, Philadelphia police in early 2000 began to allow local women's groups, including the Law Project, to monitor the rape</div> <div> squad. Each time a complaint was deemed to be false, the women's groups were able to check to ensure that a proper investigation had been completed.</div> <div> No other police department is believed to have been so open.</div> <bR> <div> After Jesine's case was spotlighted in the Philadelphia Inquirer, police began acknowledging problems in the rape squad. Philadelphia police now</div> <div> concede that during the past five years, more than 700 rape cases were botched by the department's underfunded and poorly trained sex crimes unit.</div> <div> Jasper Washington, a 285-pound auto mechanic, and scores of other men have</div> <div> been arrested on rape charges in mishandled cases that were reopened because of Inquirer articles.</div> <bR> <div> Philadelphia Police Deceptions May Be Common Elsewhere</div> <bR> <div> The reporting by the Inquirer was unique, but many of Philadelphia's problems are not.</div> <bR> <div> New FBI and state crime data for 1999 and the first half of 2000 indicate that many major police departments distort the statistics in a variety of ways that make it impossible to tell how many rapes occur, whether</div> <div> police are investigating rape complaints seriously or how frequently the alleged victims lie.</div> <bR> <div> Some police departments code rape complaints in ways that indicated they were little more than a conversation between a police officer and a citizen.</div> <bR> <div> Philadelphia police initially labeled Jesine's rape as a "2701," a</div> <div> police</div> <div> code for a service call, not a crime. The first officer on the scene</div> <div> insisted that Jesine's case was only an incident involving a lost child.</div> <bR> <div> Philadelphia's 2701 code, also known as "investigation of person," was used for all 700 rapes that have been reinvestigated by police. Some of those cases, including Jesine's, date back five years.</div> <bR> <div> The 2701 code is no longer used to hide rapes in Philadelphia. But that type of coding is used in other cities.</div> <bR> <div> Tough Cases Sometimes Masked as 'Information Only'</div> <bR> <div> In Phoenix, the rape squad uses what it calls an "information only report" for tough cases, the ones detectives can't sort out. A former Phoenix</div> <div> sex crimes supervisor said in an interview that about a third of his city's sexual assault complaints were classified as "information only." He</div> <div> acknowledged that some of those cases might include cases of real rape, such as those of women who were victims of date-rape drug attacks but couldn't</div> <div> tell the police any of the details of the assaults.</div> <bR> <div> Staffing shortages are another reason for under reporting and non-reporting.</div> <bR> <div> In Phoenix, eight detectives were assigned to the sex crimes unit in the 1980s, although the population has increased by more than 60 percent since.</div> <div> Still, there are still only eight detectives in the squad.</div> <bR> <div> In Philadelphia, until December 1999, there were never more than nine detectives in the sex crimes unit. Most rape cases were handled by lower-paid patrol officers without the same training in investigations as detectives.</div> <bR> <div> The problems also persist because there is little monitoring of crime reporting. The FBI does not undertake comparative studies of reporting in</div> <div> different cities, allowing some police departments to seriously abuse some loopholes in the FBI's reporting rules.</div> <bR> <div> St. Paul, Minn., claimed throughout the 1990s that it was solving 90 to 100 percent of its rape cases. But year after year, the city's arrest rate for rape was far below the national average. The FBI never questioned those</div> <div> figures.</div> <bR> <div> That was because of a loophole in the FBI's reporting rules, which permits police to "clear," or solve, cases without arresting suspects.</div> <bR> <div> FBI Says It Cannot Monitor Accuracy of Police Statistics</div> <bR> <div> Responding to questions about reporting problems and lack of review, an FBI spokeswoman said that the agency had never asked any police department to</div> <div> clarify why it might have a high rate of "cleared" rapes without arrests.</div> <div> The FBI repeatedly states that it depends on state agencies to ensure that reporting is accurate. State agencies, which receive data from individual</div> <div> police departments and forward it to the FBI, have said they depend on police departments to report and make sure statistics are accurate.</div> <bR> <div> In 1999, St. Paul police said they "cleared" 108 percent of the city's rapes: 200 rapes and 215 clearances. Yet, police arrested only 47 suspects for rape. For the first half of 2000, St. Paul said there were 107 rapes</div> <div> and 107 cleared cases.</div> <bR> <div> At a November conference sponsored by the U.S. Bureau of Justice Statistics,</div> <div> a Philadelphia Inquirer reporter presented details on the mishandling of rapes in Philadelphia and also cited St. Paul's unusual reporting pattern.</div> <bR> <div> Once held up to public scrutiny, St. Paul police quickly acknowledged that in 1999 alone, the rape squad had wrongly classified about 100 rapes as</div> <div> being solved by "exceptional" means. That policy of misreporting, the department said, had been in practice for "as long as anyone can remember."</div> <div> By declaring the cases "cleared" without making arrests, it took the pressure off police to make more arrests in rape cases. Dozens of cases have since been reopened. (See "Police May Ignore Rape Complaints to Boost Image," Women's Enews, June 15, 2000.)</div> <bR> <div> St. Paul is just one example of departments that report high rates of solving rapes but low rates of arrests. That misreporting can seriously affect the quality of police investigations.</div> <bR> <div> Oklahoma City has consistently reported clearance rates higher than 75 percent but low rates of rape arrest. Nationally, only half of all rape cases are cleared, and there is about one arrest for every three rapes.</div> <bR> <div> Oklahoma City reports one arrest for every seven rapes.</div> <bR> <div> Problems Also Caused by Lack of Staff, Poor Training</div> <bR> <div> Capt. Pat Byrne, who oversees the Oklahoma City police rape squad, said in an interview that the unit suffered from under-staffing, insufficient</div> <div> training and low motivation. Byrne said the squad has been increased to 15 detectives. Two years ago, there were only eight.</div> <bR> <div> "We knew there was a problem and they're working toward fixing it," Byrne said about his department's low arrest rate, a problem that previously had not been made public.</div> <bR> <div> San Antonio claimed to have solved 64 percent of its rapes in 1999, but it made only one arrest for every five rapes. After years of having a low rate of arrests for rape, San Antonio reported a spectacular 18 percent drop in rapes in 1999. That was followed by a 37 percent drop in rapes in the first half of 2000.</div> <bR> <div> Many other factors can account for low numbers of reported rapes.</div> <bR> <div> Some cities really are much safer than others. But some police departments simply declare that large numbers of rape complaints are lies.</div> <bR> <div> Nationally, police departments say less than 10 percent of all rape reports are false, or "unfounded." In 1998, Philadelphia reported that 18 percent of</div> <div> all rape reports were "unfounded." After the Inquirer reported that Philadelphia's rate was high, the police commissioner began reviewing "unfounded" rape reports. In 1999, Philadelphia's "unfounded" rate</div> <div> dropped to 10 percent. In 2000, the city's "unfounded" rate was down to 7 percent.</div> <bR> <div> Some Departments Have Unusually High Percentage of False Rape Reports</div> <bR> <div> Some departments, however, still report high rates of "unfounded" rapes.</div> <bR> <div> Milwaukee has repeatedly reported that more than 40 percent of rape complaints were "unfounded." In Virginia Beach, Va., the rate is 35 percent.</div> <div> In all likelihood, however, Milwaukee and Virginia Beach women probably don't lie about rape any more than women in other cities.</div> <bR> <div> At the same time, extraordinarily low rates of "unfounded" rapes can be problematic.</div> <bR> <div> Houston labels only one-half of one percent of all rape reports as "unfounded." But if Houston police don't think a rape complaint is really a crime, they don't need to write up a formal police report. Houston says</div> <div> cases that fall into that category need not be included in FBI statistics.</div> <div> There is no need to declare them to be unfounded. It's just an information report, similar to the 2701.</div> <bR> <div> Rape complaints that are not coded as crimes are never reported to the FBI.</div> <div> Thus, FBI statistics on rape must always be analyzed with a critical eye and reporting compared from one city to another.</div> <bR> <div> Philadelphia Police Commissioner John F. Timoney carefully watches the statistics of his own department and of others nationwide. He previously served as deputy commissioner of the New York Police Department.</div> <bR> <div> Timoney noticed that statistics for the first half of 2000 showed that Philadelphia reported more than three times more rapes per capita than New York. When New York's figures were analyzed on a borough-by-borough</div> <div> basis, the contrast was even more dramatic.</div> <bR> <div> At a Philadelphia City Council hearing in December on the problems of the police rape squad, Timoney scoffed at New York's statistics. Timoney said Manhattan, with the same population as Philadelphia, was reporting only</div> <div> a fourth as many rapes.</div> <bR> <div> "It's got all sorts of clubs going on. Six to eight million people come in on a daily basis, restaurants, night clubs, 33 million tourists a year come into" Manhattan, Timoney said. "How many rapes do you think will be reported</div> <div> in Manhattan this year, given all the activity that's going on there--date rape activity and all of that? About 250."</div> <div> Timoney gave reporters this tid-bit about his old department: It didn't use 2701 or an "information only" code, but it did use a code known as</div> <div> "information-aided," or commonly called "aided." All types of ambiguous cases were shelved there. The "aided" category, he said, didn't mean</div> <div> that friendly New York street cops had helped some tourists with information</div> <div> or aid. He said it included, among other things, ambiguous sexual assault complaints.</div> <bR> <div> In 1999, New York reported a 17-percent decline in rapes, the biggest drop in recent memory. Then in the first half of 2000, it dropped another four percent. The New York Police Department insists that its rape statistics are correct. But its statistics do not mention anything about "aided" cases.</div> <bR> <div> Mark Fazlollah is an award-winning investigative reporter for the</div> <div> Philadelphia Inquirer.</div> <bR> <div> Editor's note: To report this story, the Philadelphia Inquirer purchased</div> <bR> <div> national crime data from the FBI on bulky computer tapes. The</div> <div> information</div> <div> was sorted for all major cities using spreadsheets that made it possible</div> <div> to</div> <div> see patterns and highlights.</div> <bR> <div> For further information, visit:</div> <bR> <div> Bureau of Justice Statistics: - http://www.ojp.usdoj.gov/bjs/</div> <bR> <div> Philadelphia Inquirer: - http://www.philly.com/packages/crime/ -</div> <div> (investigative stories on falsification of rape statistics, information for women's advocates)</div> <bR> <div> The Rape, Abuse and Incest National Network (RAINN): -</div> <div> http://www.feminist.com/rain.htm</div> <bR> <div> Speaking Out About Rape: - http://www.soar99.com/</div> <bR> <div> Arming Women Against Rape and Endangerment: - http://www.aware.org/</div> <bR> <div> The Rape Recovery Help and Information Page: -</div> <div> http://raperecovery.terrashare.com/</div> <bR> <div> National Clearinghouse on Marital and Date Rape: -</div> <div> http://www.members.aol.com/ncmdr/</div> <bR> <div> See also our article "New York Permits Gender Violence Victims to Sue" (Dec. 29, 2000): - http://www.womensenews.org/article.cfm?aid=388&mode=today</div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <div> SOURCE:</div> <div> THE GLOBE AND MAIL</div> <div> Saturday, January 20, 2001, page A9</div> <bR> <div> Vilma Climaco was a popular nanny until a vengeful</div> <div> ex-boyfriend accused her of the ultimate offence: sexually abusing her young charges. She lost her job, her home and her own son. Two years later, she has cleared her name but fears she may never see her boy again</div> <bR> <div> MARGARET WENTE</div> <div> [Large photo of Vilma looking at her son's pictures)</div> <bR> <div> Vilma Climaco has much in common with many Filipina nannies in my pleasant Toronto neighbourhood. Ten years ago, she left her homeland and family to</div> <div> help raise other people's children in Canada.</div> <bR> <div> She came here when she was 28 and is a Canadian citizen now.</div> <div> The families who employed her remember her with great</div> <div> affection. Like other nannies, she</div> <div> has always looked forward to the time when she could raise a family of her own.</div> <bR> <div> This is the story of how her dream turned into a nightmare.</div> <bR> <div> Vilma Climaco got caught up in the greatest social panic of our time, one that has ruined the lives of many innocent people. She was accused of despicable sex crimes against young children in her care.</div> <bR> <div> The accusations were ludicrous, and the evidence against her was flimsy and tainted. But Ms. Climaco spent nearly two years in the justice system before her name was cleared last week. She went to trial twice. And along the way, she lost the most precious thing to her on Earth --her own son.</div> <bR> <div> She may never get him back.</div> <bR> <div> I met Ms. Climaco a few days ago. With her were her lawyer, Cindy Wasser, and a friend named Pet Cleto from the Migrante Women's Collective, a group</div> <div> that helps Filipina women in trouble. In her soft, accented</div> <div> English, Ms. Climaco related what happened to her.</div> <bR> <div> In the spring of 1998, she got a job through the nanny</div> <div> network with a middle-class Toronto family. Their twin boys had just turned 4. They hired Ms. Climaco because everyone said she was wonderful with kids.</div> <bR> <div> Nanny and family bonded quickly. Every day, Ms. Climaco took the kids to the park and the pool. She took along her own son, Jonathan, too. He was 2. She found a triple stroller at a garage sale and paid for it herself. In</div> <div> the afternoons, the kids would play together in the back</div> <div> yard until the twins' father came home from work. Ms.</div> <div> Climaco and her son lived in a small apartment nearby.</div> <bR> <div> The kids thrived. The parents testified later that, at</div> <div> first, they could not have been more satisfied with their</div> <div> new nanny.</div> <bR> <div> Vilma Climaco had one big trouble in her life: Jonathan's</div> <div> father. His name is Joseph Kiss, and he is married, with a family of his own. Jonathan was the product of an affair.</div> <div> Ms. Climaco had decided to break off her relationship with Mr. Kiss, and he was giving her a very hard time. He</div> <div> threatened to fight her for their son.</div> <bR> <div> One day, the nanny poured out her heart to her employer, who reacted with concern and sympathy. "They were very nice to me," Ms. Climaco says. "I</div> <div> thought I could trust them."</div> <bR> <div> At first, they stood up for her. The twins' father even</div> <div> threw a punch at Mr. Kiss one day. Shortly after that, Mr.</div> <div> Kiss told them to watch out, because Ms. Climaco was hitting their children. He had seen it himself, he</div> <div> said. He told them they ought to videotape her.</div> <bR> <div> That is how it all began: a vengeful father, a bitter</div> <div> breakup. In an unrelated court proceeding later on, a judge scathingly pointed out that under the circumstances, Joseph Kiss was perhaps not the most reliable guide to Ms. Climaco's character.</div> <bR> <div> But by then it was too late. The snowball was rolling.</div> <bR> <div> Her employers liked Ms. Climaco, but they decided to take no chances. They remembered the time one twin had a black eye.</div> <div> He said he got it from playing with a toy train, but who</div> <div> really knew? In midsummer, they let her go.</div> <bR> <div> Ms. Climaco found other work, but Mr. Kiss kept phoning the family almost every day with accusations: Ms. Climaco had hit their kids; she was a lesbian.</div> <bR> <div> Their anxiety grew, and they began to pepper the twins with questions. What bad things did the nanny do to them? They even phoned Children's Aid. A social worker interviewed the twins, but they said nothing that would justify further action.</div> <bR> <div> Still, the parents were distressed; the twins were acting up with lots of talk about their genitalia.</div> <bR> <div> And then, one day near Christmas, it happened. The family was on a car trip and the twins were acting up again. They stopped for lunch and their mother</div> <div> remarked on how well they were eating, and one twin said, "Vilma never fed us. She made us lick her pee-pee for food."</div> <bR> <div> Bingo.</div> <bR> <div> Horrified, the parents pressed for details. One twin (they</div> <div> can't remember which one) said Vilma's pee-pee was brown and smelled yucky and was wet on</div> <div> their faces when they licked it and it made them throw up.</div> <bR> <div> The parents stepped up the questioning and three weeks later they phoned the police.</div> <bR> <div> In child sex-abuse allegations, the police are sometimes</div> <div> inclined to be overly vigilant. It's safer to lay the charge</div> <div> and let the courts sort it out. The Crown, too, has very</div> <div> little discretion over whether to prosecute.</div> <bR> <div> And there are generally social workers and child-abuse</div> <div> experts on hand, some of whom are quick to believe every suspicion and every piece of evidence, however slight. Too often, their credo is: Believe the children</div> <div> -- even if it's very hard to make out what the children</div> <div> might be saying.</div> <bR> <div> The police interviewed each twin twice on videotape. One said he had been made to suck a suitcase. He mentioned a green hose. The other twin didn't</div> <div> say anything suspicious at all.</div> <bR> <div> On Feb. 4, 1999, the police arrested Ms. Climaco at the</div> <div> computer school where she was taking classes. She was charged with four counts of sexual assault and sexual touching.</div> <bR> <div> Mr. Kiss told Ms. Climaco's landlord about the arrest and</div> <div> got her evicted.</div> <bR> <div> Children's Aid took her son away and put him into foster</div> <div> care. A few months later, he was released in the custody of Mr. Kiss, with whom he has remained ever since.</div> <bR> <div> Then Mr. Kiss and his family moved to California and took Jonathan with them. The last time Vilma Climaco saw her son was in July, 1999.</div> <bR> <div> "The most important part of my life is my son," she says.</div> <bR> <div> Meantime, the twins began to receive special counselling at the local child-abuse centre, where they were repeatedly asked about secret touching and encouraged to draw pictures expressing their hurt and anger.</div> <bR> <div> Ms. Climaco got in touch with Migrante, the immigrant</div> <div> women's aid group. "I had to have company," she says. "I had to be strong."</div> <bR> <div> Unemployable in child care, she continued classes and lived on a student loan. "I kept going to school, but I could not think properly," she says.</div> <bR> <div> There were no witnesses, and the kids' tapes were shaky. But there was an expert -- Dr. Louise Sas, a child psychologist who has testified for the prosecution in numerous abuse cases. Dr. Sas found the evidence against Ms. Climaco quite damning.</div> <bR> <div> In a report prepared for the Crown, she had this to say</div> <div> about the incident in the restaurant:</div> <bR> <div> "The way in which the first disclosure came about initially</div> <div> is of significance. It is what can best be described as an</div> <div> unsolicited accidental delayed disclosure, triggered by a</div> <div> conversation which brought to mind the specific incidents of sexual abuse.</div> <bR> <div> "In this case, the discussion of food and appetite by their</div> <div> mother at a restaurant brought on the disclosure of oral sex with the babysitter, whom the boys reported had withheld food from them. According to the evidence,</div> <div> the boys had already been describing sexual acts in the car which they would do to each other, and the tone of the conversation in the car was overtly sexualized.</div> <bR> <div> "This in and of itself is highly irregular, and this type of</div> <div> discussion suggests that they had been eroticized and</div> <div> introduced to that type of behaviour."</div> <bR> <div> The inconsistencies, the nonsense language, the many months that had passed since Ms. Climaco had left before the kids spoke out -- to Dr. Sas, it all</div> <div> fit together.</div> <bR> <div> "The disclosures were delayed, which is consistent with the abuser being known to the child. . . . There may well have been intimidation as well (the eye injury) and a grooming process (such as using the term 'toy' for</div> <div> vibrator or 'sandbox' for vaginal area, or involving a hose</div> <div> as part of a sexual game) which made it difficult for the</div> <div> children to explain what happened."</div> <bR> <bR> <div> Tim Moore, a psychology professor at York University in</div> <div> Toronto, is also an expert on children's testimony. He was scheduled to appear for the defence. I asked him about the complications of children's testimony, especially children so young.</div> <bR> <div> "Children are inclined to be co-operative and compliant," he says. "The problem is that with the right ingredients of</div> <div> social pressure, suggestiveness, repetition and</div> <div> unintentional reinforcement, children may say what they</div> <div> think is expected of them."</div> <bR> <div> I asked if frequent talk about genitalia is abnormal for</div> <div> four-year-olds.</div> <bR> <div> "There's a natural fascination with body functions at that</div> <div> age," he says.  "Scatalogical terminology is hysterically</div> <div> funny. Kids can amuse themselves endlessly with body-part references."</div> <bR> <div> Cindy Wasser, Ms. Climaco's lawyer, says: "Dr. Sas can</div> <div> interpret every fact and every behaviour as evidence of</div> <div> abuse."</div> <bR> <div> But the most astonishing part of the case had yet to come to light.</div> <bR> <div> In fact, the twins had been enticed into inappropriate sex</div> <div> play -- not by their nanny, but by an older boy who lived</div> <div> nearby. There was even a witness -- the twins' own father. He just hadn't bothered to mention it.</div> <bR> <div> The older boy was 12. He is developmentally delayed,</div> <div> functioning like a six-year-old. Sometime in the spring of</div> <div> 1998, the twins' father found him in the basement with the four-year-olds. He was on his hands and knees and</div> <div> the twins had their pants down.</div> <bR> <div> The twins' father asked what he was doing. The boy said, "I'm kissing their penises. I know it's wrong, but I like it."</div> <bR> <div> The twins' father eventually chose to mention this incident to his sons' counsellor at the abuse centre. Children's Aid was summoned once again, and the 12-year-old and his family were interviewed.</div> <bR> <bR> <div> The older boy's mother said she wasn't surprised, because he had been caught interfering with other little kids.</div> <bR> <div> But the boy denied the basement scene. He got counselling, and the case was closed.</div> <bR> <div> The twins' parents never discussed the incident with their</div> <div> sons. The police never interviewed the four-year-olds about it either. Nor did Louise Sas ever mention it. Did anyone ever wonder whether the twins' behavioural</div> <div> problems were connected to the neighbour instead of the nanny? Evidently not.</div> <bR> <div> Ms. Climaco's first trial began in September, but it didn't</div> <div> last long. In the middle, the twins' father got a call one</div> <div> night from the father of the older boy. The 12-year-old had told his parents that he himself saw Ms.</div> <div> Climaco abuse the twins. Not only that, the boy said Ms.</div> <div> Climaco had abused him as well. He didn't know her name. He described her as having blond hair and blue eyes.</div> <bR> <div> At last, a witness. The Crown decided to put him on the</div> <div> stand.</div> <bR> <div> Even someone not schooled in the law might wonder if this was wise. The boy had a history of inappropriate sexual contact. His own parents thought the</div> <div> basement story was probably true and had been grilling him about it when Ms. Climaco's trial hit the media. In other words, he had a strong incentive to lie.</div> <bR> <div> But before the wisdom of the Crown could be tested, Ms.</div> <div> Climaco's lawyer asked for a mistrial because of the</div> <div> surprise witness. The judge agreed, and a new trial was</div> <div> scheduled to start all over again in January.</div> <bR> <div> Meantime, the new witness was interviewed three times on videotape. His stories were contradictory, and in the third interview he declared that he had been lying all along.</div> <bR> <div> Once again, the Crown called on Dr. Sas to give her expert opinion of the tapes. Her verdict? All the testimony again pointed to Ms. Climaco's guilt.</div> <bR> <div> "There are strong indices of reliability in his allegations</div> <div> about sexual victimization," she wrote. "His retractions and then reaffirmation of the veracity of the information he was providing was a clear example of his difficulty sharing the information."</div> <bR> <div> In other words, all the boy's contradictions, as well as his</div> <div> assertion that he had been lying, were really signs that he had been telling the truth.</div> <bR> <div> On Jan. 2, Ms. Climaco's second trial began before Mr.</div> <div> Justice Paul Rivard.  It, too, was very short. Before a jury</div> <div> could be summoned, the judge  assessed the evidence and the circumstances surrounding the case. He viewed the tapes and decided they were completely unreliable. So he threw the case out.</div> <bR> <bR> <div> Vilma Climaco was free to go.</div> <bR> <div> You could say the justice system worked. After all, a judge was wise and an innocent person did not go to jail. Ms. Climaco's defence was excellent and was funded by legal aid.</div> <div> Still, the price she paid is almost unbearably high.</div> <bR> <div> "She's been completely vindicated," Ms. Wasser says. "But it's a bittersweet win."</div> <bR> <div> Today, the former nanny works part-time in a Wal-Mart. She is $17,000 in debt for student loans. She can see her son Jonathan now, but he is in California, and she is broke.</div> <bR> <div> She can't get legal aid there, and she might have to fight</div> <div> Mr. Kiss to give her access. To get her son back, she will</div> <div> have to mount an expensive legal battle. The courts will be reluctant to give her custody because Jonathan,</div> <div> who turns 5 this April, has lived with his father for so</div> <div> long now. Ms. Climaco's toughest fight lies ahead.</div> <bR> <div> The interview is over and I've closed my notebook. We're all packing up to leave when Ms. Climaco turns to Ms. Wasser and says, "Can you get my son back?"</div> <bR> <div> The lawyer wraps an arm around her shoulder. "We'll try,</div> <div> Vilma. We'll try."</div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <div> Toronto Star</div> <bR> <div> Jan. 26, 2001. 07:16 PM</div> <bR> <div> Supreme Court upholds federal child porn law</div> <bR> <div> OTTAWA (CP) - Debate continued to rage Friday after the Supreme Court</div> <div> upheld Canada's child pornography law, but added two exceptions that slightly expand what's</div> <div> allowed.</div> <bR> <div> The ruling clarified a contentious legal battle over balancing civil rights with protecting</div> <div> children but did not ease all concerns.</div> <bR> <div> While civil libertarians praised the narrowing of what they called the law's most ''obnoxious'' limits on free expression, child advocates said the top judges left dangerous loopholes for pedophiles.</div> <bR> <div> Police spokesmen were generally pleased but will closely watch how lower courts respond.</div> <bR> <div> ''We don't believe this decision will inhibit the current types of investigations that we're involved in,'' said David Griffin of the Canadian Police Association.</div> <bR> <div> ''The court has accepted the submissions we brought forward that this is a dangerous, insidious industry and there have to be controls in place.''</div> <bR> <div> About 100 cases across the country have been stalled pending the high court's ruling.</div> <bR> <div> Friday's judgment involves John Robin Sharpe, a retired town planner from Vancouver, charged more than five years ago with two counts of possession of child pornography and two of possession for the purpose of</div> <div> distribution.</div> <bR> <div> The ruling overturns lower court decisions in 1999 that absolved him of the two possession charges on the basis that the law went too far.</div> <div> Sharpe now faces trial on     all four counts.</div> <bR> <div> Sharpe, 67, was disappointed but unrepentant. He did interviews by phone but shunned photographers to protect changes he made to his appearance</div> <div> following widespread publicity and some nasty public attacks.</div> <bR> <div> ''Do you think that God made a mistake in the fact that kids reach puberty about (age)</div> <div> 12?'' he asked. ''You know, kids were meant to enjoy sex and to have sex.''</div> <bR> <div> Intense and sometimes bitter public debate was touched off when Sharpe successfully</div> <div> challenged the law after photographs and stories were seized from him in 1995 and 1996.</div> <bR> <div> Sharpe's cache included photographs of boys. Most were naked and appeared to   be under 18, say court documents submitted by British Columbia government lawyers.</div> <bR> <div> Some photos showed boys kissing and engaged in oral sex. There was also a collection of 17 stories Sharpe wrote under a pen name called Sam Paloc's Boy Abuse - Flogging & Fortitude.</div> <bR> <div> The lead detective on the case described them as ''extremely violent'' tales including</div> <div> kids younger than 10 involved in sadomasochism with adults and other children, male and female.</div> <bR> <div> Woven through the stories were hints that the children enjoyed and sought sexual    brutality, said the detective.</div> <bR> <div> On Friday, the high court said Canada's child pornography laws are constitutional but it added two exceptions to the disputed section of</div> <div> the Criminal Code.</div> <bR> <div> They exempt material that's created privately and is not for distribution, such as personal journals and drawings.</div> <bR> <div> As well, the court said people can possess video recordings or photographs of themselves, but they must not depict unlawful sexual activity, must be for private use and be created with the consent of all involved.</div> <bR> <div> In Canada, the age of consent for sex is 14 but one must be at least 18 to lawfully take part in pornography.</div> <bR> <div> The high court's second exception answers criticism that the child porn law captured teen couples, even married ones, who may record otherwise legal sexual activity.</div> <bR> <div> The court stressed that neither exception would protect the holder of such material from criminal prosecution if the intent is to distribute it in any way.</div> <bR> <div> The first exception may help Sharpe if he can prove his writings were for personal use and didn't promote unlawful sex acts with children.''I conclude . . . the limits (that the law) imposes on free expression are</div> <div> justified by the protection the law affords children from exploitation and abuse,'' Chief Justice Beverley McLachlin wrote on behalf of the</div> <div> unanimous court.</div> <bR> <div> ''I cannot, however, arrive at the same conclusion in regard to the two problematic categories of materials described above.</div> <bR> <div> ''The legislation prohibits a person from articulating thoughts in writing or visual images, even if the result is intended only for his or her own eyes.''Three of the nine judges went further, saying they would</div> <div> have upheld the entire law without exceptions.</div> <bR> <div> Justice Minister Anne McLellan said the judgment vindicates the Liberals' decision to delay legal changes until the high court ruled.</div> <bR> <div> McLellan will consult the provinces, police and others before making any adjustments to reflect Friday's ruling, she said.</div> <bR> <div> ''We want to make sure that any clarification, in and of itself, does not lead to further challenges before the court.</div> <bR> <div> ''The Supreme Court has spoken. They have upheld the law. The exceptions are extremely narrow.''</div> <bR> <div> Canadian Alliance Leader Stockwell Day, who had criticized the government for waiting on the decision before changing the law, said he</div> <div> was ''relieved.''''We want to look at those details and see what's involved there, but overall, I'd say we're pleased that the law appears to be upheld,'' Day said.</div> <bR> <div> Still, the ruling did not quell debate.</div> <bR> <div> Mark Hecht, lawyer for the Winnipeg-based children's advocacy group Beyond Borders, said the judgment has ''created a loophole for pedophiles.</div> <bR> <div> ''They've essentially weakened our law. Children are less protected today than they were a year ago.''</div> <bR> <div> Scott Newark of the federal government's Office of the Victims of Crime said he was ''astounded'' that the court didn't send the law back to Parliament.</div> <bR> <div> ''Maybe it's just me, but I thought we elected people to do that.''</div> <bR> <div> Others said the court should have gone further to amend a poorly written, overly oppressive law.</div> <bR> <div> ''The (court) has striven mightily to get Parliament off the hook,'' said John Dixon, vice-president of the B.C. Civil Liberties Association.</div> <div> ''This is a very bad law. We would have preferred that it be struck down in its entirety and that Parliament start over.''</div> <bR> <div> Instead, the judges ''rolled up their sleeves and tried to strip the law of its most obnoxious and constitutionally invalid provisions,'' Dixon said.</div> <bR> <div> The Criminal Code defines child pornography as a photo, film, video or other visual representation ''that shows a person who is or is depicted</div> <div> as being under the age of 18 . . . and is engaged in or is depicted as engaged in explicit sexual activity.''</div> <bR> <div> Further, ''any written material or visual representation that advocates or counsels sexual activity'' with a minor was considered child pornography, no matter who wrote it or for what purpose.</div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <div> SOURCE: Sacramento Bee, 12/01/00</div> <div> Courtesy CPS Watch News</div> <bR> <div> County to pay family $70,000: Child-abuse report prompted lawsuit</div> <bR> <div> By Denny Walsh</div> <bR> <div> Sacramento County has agreed to pay $70,000 to a family to settle a lawsuit alleging that two children were taken from the parents unlawfully and without good reason.</div> <bR> <div> Both sides agree that the case illustrates what a minefield it is to investigate reports of child abuse.</div> <bR> <div> Based on an interview with a 13-year-old girl, she and her 7-year-old sister were immediately removed from their respective public schools in October 1998 and placed in a foster home overnight.</div> <bR> <div> A Child Protective Services worker conducted the interview at the teenager's school three weeks after the school's principal reported a talk with the girl about an argument between the girl and her father.</div> <bR> <div> In connection with the suit, the girl and the CPS worker</div> <div> gave sharply differing versions of what the girl said during the one-on-one, unrecorded interview.</div> <bR> <div> The parents were notified that their daughters had been</div> <div> taken into custody only after the fact, and they were not</div> <div> told the girls' whereabouts.</div> <bR> <div> The children "suffered extreme fear and apprehension" that night, according to the suit that was later filed in federal court.</div> <bR> <div> As a condition of the girls' return to them late the next</div> <div> night, the parents complied with CPS' demand that they agree to a six-month plan calling for twice weekly inspections of their home and weekly "body checks" of their daughters for evidence of physical abuse, the suit says.</div> <bR> <div> In addition, it says, the parents were required to attend</div> <div> child rearing classes and provide psychological counseling for the older daughter. An initial requirement that the father attend anger management classes was dropped.</div> <bR> <div> The parents agreed to all this out of "grief, fear, and</div> <div> desperation . even though they had not committed any acts of child abuse or child neglect," the suit says.</div> <bR> <div> As part of the settlement, the county agreed to remove the parents from the index of child-abuse suspects maintained by the California Department of Justice.</div> <bR> <div> Once the four family members completed the county's remedial plan, they sued under the name "Doe" to protect their identities.</div> <bR> <div> "This is a very nice family, a very good home," said Andrea Miller, an attorney for the family.</div> <bR> <div> Jim Hunt, director of the county's Department of Health and Human Services, the umbrella agency of CPS, noted that he is prohibited by law from discussing the specifics of the case.</div> <bR> <div> "Child Protective Services staff have demanding jobs with enormous pressures," Hunt said. "They often must make extremely difficult decisions based on imperfect</div> <div> information. That puts us in a no-win situation.</div> <bR> <div> "When we place a child in protective custody, we may be seen as acting too hastily. If we do not, and injury or death to the child results, we are seen as not acting swiftly enough."</div> <bR> <div> Miller said, "We understand they are under a lot of</div> <div> pressure. But they can do as much damage by overreaching as they can by ignoring a problem."</div> <bR> <div> Lanny Winberry, the family's lead attorney who has handled a number of similar matters, stressed that CPS workers do not have unfettered discretion and should be "aware of a family's constitutional due process guarantee and their right to be free of unwarranted government intrusion."</div> <bR> <div> He said California law requires evidence of injury or a</div> <div> likelihood of injury before a child can be taken into</div> <div> custody without a warrant. Short of that, he said, a CPS</div> <div> official must have a court order.</div> <bR> <div> None of those requirements was met in the case of the Doe family, Winberry said.</div> <bR> <div> Beyond that, he added, parents have a right to a hearing at which they are able to contest the jurisdiction of welfare authorities. In the Doe case, a CPS worker told the parents they would have to waive that right if they</div> <div> wanted to see their children, according to the suit.</div> <bR> <div> That CPS worker admitted in court papers that she informed the parents of their option to waive a hearing, but she denied telling them it was a condition of seeing the children.</div> <bR> <div> "The attitude of some workers seems to be that they are the final arbiters of child rearing," Winberry said. "If you</div> <div> disagree, they'll just take all your children away until you</div> <div> come around to their way of thinking."</div> <bR> <div> Hunt doesn't quarrel with the fact that "there are huge</div> <div> consequences to the decisions we make. Parents, lawyers, judges and the court of public opinion will scrutinize those decisions." But, he said, the bottom line is, "Our primary concern has to be the safety and protection of children."</div> <bR> <div> ---------</div> <bR> <div> Walsh, Denny (2000).County to pay family $70,000: Child abuse report prompted lawsuit.  Sacramento  Bee, December 1: 1A.</div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <div> SOURCE: Ottawa Citizen</div> <div> December 12, 2000.  1st. of 5-part series</div> <bR> <bR> <div> We are tearing families apart</div> <bR> <div> Today the Citizen's Dave Brown begins a five-part series</div> <div> taking a critical look at Canada's family court system.</div> <bR> <div> Family courts, he writes, have moved far beyond protecting children from abuse. They deal now in terms such as "a child in need," and "best interests."</div> <bR> <div> That means the court can decide a child needs better</div> <div> parents, even if the child has not been abused or neglected.</div> <div> By creating courts that undermine parents' rights to a fair</div> <div> trial, he argues, families are being torn apart.</div> <bR> <div> Every day in North America, thousands of people are judged in courts that don't offer the protections of burden of proof, reasonable doubt, hard evidence or presumption of innocence. These courts operate in virtual secrecy.</div> <bR> <div> They're called family courts, and they dispense judgments far more heartbreaking than criminal courts. Because they operate under different standards, they can have the effect of removing the right to a fair trial. In the climate of our times, that's seen as the price of protecting children.</div> <bR> <div> These courts are very busy and rapidly increasing in number and power.  They will likely get even busier after a recent Supreme Court decision written by Justice Claire L'Heureux-Dube, giving child protection workers the right to apprehend a child without a warrant.</div> <bR> <div> She wrote: "A wrongful apprehension does not give rise to the same risk of serious, and potentially even fatal, harm to a child, as would an inability on the part of the state to intervene promptly ... "</div> <bR> <div> Hers was the majority view from a five-member panel that voted 3-2. Justice Louise Arbour filed the minority opinion, arguing: "Harm may come to the child from precipitous and misguided state interference."</div> <bR> <div> That's already happening.</div> <bR> <div> There are sections of the Criminal Code of Canada that call for harsh penalties for persons who abuse or neglect</div> <div> children. In the past two years in Ontario, 2,168 children</div> <div> were made Crown wards.</div> <bR> <div> If they were being abused or neglected, there should have been an equal number of parents punished. In fact, virtually no parents were punished. In the past year alone, 133 of those children were processed by family courts in Ottawa, again without parents jailed or fined.</div> <bR> <div> Once Crown wardship is in place, child protectors turn</div> <div> children over to foster parents. If adopted, they become new persons with new names. Who they were becomes a package of sealed records.</div> <bR> <div> The absence of corresponding punishment of abusive and negligent parents begs a question: Why not?</div> <bR> <div> The answer is that family courts have moved far beyond</div> <div> protecting children from abuse. They deal now in terms such as "a child in need," and "best interests." That means the court can decide a child needs better parents, even if the child has not been abused or neglected.</div> <bR> <div> Are children safer in foster homes? In its Nov. 13 issue,</div> <div> Time Magazine observed that many foster parents act</div> <div> selflessly to help at-risk kids, but "a quagmire of</div> <div> child-swallowing bureaucracies plague the system ... The incidence of neglect, physical and sexual abuse of children in foster care systems is feared to be significantly higher than the incidence in the general population ... Nobody bothers to keep an accurate count."</div> <bR> <div> Is the situation any better in Canada? Who knows? Children's Aid Societies are arms-length agencies. Their books aren't open and their accountability seems to be questioned only when news leaks out that a child in care has been hurt or killed.</div> <bR> <div> Criminal courts must deal with matters in a timely fashion.</div> <div> To make a criminal wait too long for closure is considered cruel and unusual punishment, and can result in the case against him being dropped. The same time limits aren't enforced on family courts.</div> <bR> <div> In October, family court Judge Jennifer Blishen handed down a decision making three sisters, now aged seven to 10, Crown wards. They had been in the system, in custody in foster homes, for three years and four months. for short visits, they were kept apart from their parents and from each other for most of that time. Neglect or abuse (by the parents) were not issues. Parenting skills were on trial.</div> <bR> <div> About the same time in another courtroom a few doors away, family court Judge Jennifer Mackinnon permanently removed a two-year-old from her mother. The mother was in family court because of an allegation of child abuse made against her when she was a foster mother, before her own child was conceived. Back when she had no children of her own, the child protectors pressed criminal charges. The case didn't</div> <div> go to court. The Crown Attorney said there wasn't enough evidence.</div> <bR> <div> When she became a mother, though, she became vulnerable.</div> <div> Lack of evidence is not a problem to a family court. It uses created evidence, such as psychological profiles and projections that almost always support the side that pays for them.</div> <bR> <div> I monitored these trials and in both cases needed a lawyer to argue me into the courtrooms. The law says the courts are open to the public, but CAS lawyers frequently argue that public attention would not be in the child's best interests. was the only uninvolved witness to proceedings, and by law must protect the identity of the families. In both cases the parents would love to be identified, and scream that they are victims of an unfair system. The child protectors would</div> <div> consider that an embarrassment to the children, and</div> <div> therefore child abuse.</div> <bR> <div> Details of these cases will come later in this series.</div> <bR> <div> It's important to understand the lengths we, as a society,</div> <div> are prepared to go in an attempt to do the impossible --</div> <div> shield all children from all danger. By creating courts that</div> <div> undermine parents' rights to a fair trial, we are tearing</div> <div> families apart. Most of us, remembering our childhoods, can understand that being separated from one's parents would be terrifying. To be kept in limbo while a court process ground endlessly on would be torture.</div> <bR> <div> Beyond a doubt there are children in need of protection, and court processes to protect them are needed. Our ancestors knew that when they built child protection into the Criminal Code. Somehow it became accepted that protection under the code was handicapped by the requirements of a fair trial, so family courts were formed. They have now evolved to the point where we can lose our children if we fail to pass parenting tests. The rules are unclear, but the testers will be social workers, psychologists, or psychiatrists.</div> <bR> <div> Courts accept those specialists as experts. They don't deal in ballistics or poisons, but in theories. The view seems to be that they practise a science. Psychology is not a science. Its practitioners are fallible, but free from</div> <div> accountability.</div> <bR> <div> If these views sound harsh, they aren't just those of this</div> <div> writer. They are shared by family court Judge Robert</div> <div> Fournier, quoted in a case I reported in April, 1999. After</div> <div> ruling an Ottawa couple were good people and good parents and could keep their baby twins, he had to explain why in previous family court hearings they were vilified as violent drug-addicted perverts, and lost four children to Crown wardship and adoption.</div> <bR> <div> Three were taken into custody on allegations of child sexual abuse, made while they were out of the country and the children were with a babysitter. By the time they got back, the babysitter was the paid foster mother of their children.</div> <div> The fourth child was a newborn removed by protection workers from the nursery of the Ottawa Hospital, Civic Campus.</div> <bR> <div> Judge Fournier explained that evidence allowed in family</div> <div> court is anything from an observation to an opinion to an</div> <div> impression. He said the mother's appearance contributed to the loss of her children. She's a bodybuilder with a penchant for tight clothing, high heels and big hair. To child protectors, she gave an impression of a wrong mom, said the judge.</div> <bR> <div> As a result, some of the analysis/opinion/evidence became less than objective, she lost her children. Judge Fournier also made it clear there's no reverse in the child</div> <div> protection system. "I know it leaves a hole in your heart,"</div> <div> he told her, "but c'est la vie."</div> <bR> <div> While Judge Fournier was making that statement, the CAS was continuing with the adoptions of the first four children.</div> <div> Heidi Polowin at the time was chief in-house counsel for the society. She said: "The cases aren't connected. Once a court makes a child a Crown ward, other processes start. There's a normal flow." Mrs. Polowin has since been made a judge.</div> <bR> <div> It wasn't my first close-up look at family courts in action.</div> <div> In 1991 I reported on the case of baby Joshua, handled by Lanark Child and Family Services. There was no allegation of abuse or neglect. The mother came under the agency's scrutiny when she asked for its help.</div> <bR> <div> Over the next few months, authorities slowly pulled her baby from her through a series of access-reducing court orders.</div> <div> She came to my office frequently, and I watched her turn</div> <div> into an emotional wreck. Eventually a judge granted Crown wardship, but with a condition. The baby was only to be adopted if no member of his extended family would take him.</div> <bR> <div> The adoption happened quickly. The extended family was in New Brunswick and had a room waiting. I know because I phoned. The child protecters didn't make those calls</div> <bR> <bR> <div> SOURCE: Ottawa Citizen 12/13/00</div> <bR> <div> When love isn't enough - Part two of a series</div> <bR> <div> There's clarity in brevity, and lawyer Lynn Keller was brief</div> <div> when she told her clients' wishes to an Ottawa family court in early summer this year. Her clients were three sisters aged seven to 10, and they wanted desperately to go home to their parents.</div> <bR> <div> She pointed out they had been in custody for three years. During that time, they were separated not only from their parents, but from each other. Two of them had been in and out of six different foster homes each. They had been in and out of several different schools and had been treated for mental and emotional problems at the Royal Ottawa Hospital, all while in the care of the child protection system.</div> <bR> <div> Ms. Keller said the children loved their parents and their</div> <div> parents loved them.</div> <bR> <div> There was no evidence of neglect or abuse.</div> <bR> <div> "Let my clients go home," she pleaded, not the first time</div> <div> this plea has been made on behalf of the children during the three-year ordeal.</div> <bR> <div> Children in these trials are represented by a lawyer from</div> <div> the office of the province's Official Guardian.</div> <bR> <div> When family court Judge Jennifer Blishen wrapped up the two-week trial, she said there would be a further delay. She would be on vacation for the month of July. It was almost four months later when her decision was delivered, not in open court, but by messenger to the lawyers involved.</div> <bR> <div> The answer to the plea to go home was no. The children would stay in state care as Crown wards.</div> <bR> <div> There are many kinds of abuse, and that was what Judge Blishen had to deal with. The father abuses alcohol and his attempts to beat his addiction during the last three years have not been impressive. That's the heart of the issue, but over the years it has become surrounded by a body of complications packaged in caseworker reports and psychological assessments.</div> <bR> <div> Mother is a product of a state upbringing. She was a Crown ward. She saw child-protection workers as family. Early in her relationship with the father, she turned to that family of child-protection workers when she wanted to vent, complain, or seek help. She didn't realize social workers were keeping records that would eventually be presented in court.</div> <bR> <div> The pivotal point was in May 1997, when a social worker</div> <div> assigned to the family made the decision to apprehend the children. Mother was in hospital and father was the</div> <div> caregiver. He was drinking. He wasn't falling down drunk,</div> <div> but was obviously under the influence. Tiny details would</div> <div> find their way into the court record. It was noted he wasn't</div> <div> keeping up with the laundry.</div> <bR> <div> It was clean, but piled on a bed unsorted, and the children were being dressed from the pile.</div> <bR> <div> Lawyer Andrew Fobert represented the Children's Aid Society of Ottawa-Carleton. His job was similar to that of a prosecutor-to win the state's case. He amassed an impressive pile of material to do that. There was little in the lives of the family that wasn't exposed to opinions from social workers and psychologists, and worked into court records.</div> <div> Between the mother's instability and the father's preference for maintaining a constant low-grade buzz, their lives were messy.</div> <bR> <div> An assessment of the family was ordered, and that task was turned over to psychiatrist Dr. Gregory Motayne. He</div> <div> completed one in April 1998. The major problem was the father's drinking, and he concluded the man was "unlikely to maintain abstinence" if the children were returned.</div> <bR> <div> Dr. Motayne said he couldn't get a solid read on the mother, because she was trying so hard to impress him that she was skewing the results. That part of his report weakened the CAS argument for permanent Crown wardship.</div> <bR> <div> In June 1999, another assessment was ordered, again from Dr. Motayne. By now, the CAS had drawn up a plan of care for the children. When Dr.  Motayne's second assessment came in, in February, it seemed to not only support the CAS plan, but follow it almost point by point.</div> <bR> <div> The couple's parenting skills were flawed in several ways, he reported, and each flaw had been "observed." Lawyer Wendy Rogers, representing the parents, zeroed in on that word.</div> <div> Dr. Motayne said the observations were not his, but reported to him by caseworkers. This appeared to be using a psychiatrist as a typist, and when asked to justify that style of expertise, Dr.  Motayne answered, "Accuracy is not as important as consistency."</div> <bR> <div> The children's paternal grandparents sat through the trial</div> <div> and Judge Blishen told them they could ask questions of</div> <div> witnesses. This was the only time they accepted the</div> <div> invitation to question. The grandfather said: "I'm an old</div> <div> surveyor, and I know if you don't have accuracy, you get a</div> <div> lot of inconsistency." He didn't end his statement with a</div> <div> question mark, so there were nods and the trial moved on.</div> <bR> <div> The circumstances of the grandparents show an odd bias in the child-protection system. There are children's aid societies, but there are no parents' aid societies.</div> <bR> <div> The grandparents tried to care for the girls while the</div> <div> protection system made a decision, but being in their 70s, they found keeping up with three active children too</div> <div> difficult. They tried so hard, the grandmother was</div> <div> hospitalized.  They asked for, but could get no, financial</div> <div> assistance, in-home help or respite care.</div> <bR> <div> The public purse opens wide to strangers (foster parents) in times like this, but families are expected to provide for their own.</div> <bR> <div> The parents of the children separated in early 1999. Mother said she was advised her only hope of getting her children back was to get the father out of the picture. Although they lived apart, they were "sneaking" back together.  Finally they gave up, and in February this year, got married.</div> <bR> <div> Mother had an attitude: "I think it's probably the most</div> <div> important thing, that children have parents who love each</div> <div> other."</div> <bR> <div> But if you run that kind of attitude through psychology, you</div> <div> come up with words like "co-dependent." That's how her view of love appeared in reports to the court.</div> <bR> <div> "There is no question that both parents dearly love their</div> <div> daughters," the judge observed in the judgment. She noted that access visits with the children showed "spontaneous mutual affection." The children, she noted, "continue to have a fantasy wish to return to their parents' home."</div> <bR> <div> In the three years since the apprehensions, the parents'</div> <div> relationship seems to have stabilized and the judge made note of that too. Her concern, expressed in her judgment, is would children be safe in a home with an alcoholic father who also admitted to past drug use?</div> <bR> <div> On the witness stand, mother was asked by her lawyer if</div> <div> there was a threat to her children, would she protect them?</div> <div> She gave the impression she definitely would. She wanted her children home and if there were concerns, she was willing to agree to frequent visits from CAS.</div> <bR> <div> Judge Blishen said no. She recommended the children be allowed to see their parents at the discretion of the CAS, perhaps four times a year, and held out a faint hope they could some day be reunited.</div> <bR> <div> Protection workers recently drew up a plan for the children' s Christmas. They will be allowed to spend the day with the grandparents, but the parents can't be there. Mom and Dad will see the children on Dec. 21. Grandfather says he doesn' t understand why he can't see his son at the same time as his grandchildren, and have the extended family together. CAS doesn't have to explain. It is now the official parent.</div> <bR> <div> There is a wide door opening here. If we, as a society, take all children out of homes where alcohol is abused, where are we going to store them? Odds are good at least one of the girls will be in a foster home where alcohol is a problem.</div> <bR> <div> The judge's decision is the safe one. If the children were</div> <div> returned to their parents and harmed, the whole</div> <div> child-protection system would be in disrepute.   If harm</div> <div> were to occur in a foster home, that's a new case.</div> <bR> <div> Removal of children from families should be treated like a death sentence. A family court judge should face parents, like a criminal court judge faces a condemned prisoner, and deliver the bad news.</div> <bR> <div> They should see the pain.</div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <div> SOURCE: Ottawa Citizen, 12/14/00</div> <bR> <div> Thursday 14 December 2000</div> <bR> <div> Mother presumed guilty by court - Part 3 of a series</div> <bR> <div> A two-year-old child, never abused or neglected, has been taken from her mother. Expert evidence purchased from psychologists by the child-protection system won out over expert evidence purchased from psychologists by the defence.</div> <bR> <div> Mother was launched on her personal voyage of the damned in January 1997, when she was accused by child protectors of abusing two children who were not her biological children but who were in her care.</div> <bR> <div> They were brothers aged three and five who were wards of the Children's Aid Society of Ottawa-Carleton. The CAS pressed criminal charges but allegations didn't get past the Crown attorney's office. There wasn't sufficient evidence for an appearance in a criminal court.</div> <bR> <div> Had the allegedly abused children been her own, she would have appeared in a family court, where the burden of proof is not much of a burden. As it was, the two were in her home on an adoption-probation basis. She found them too difficult to handle and wanted to return them.</div> <bR> <div> In the minds of the protectors, those stopped charges</div> <div> against her were still hanging. In their minds, just because a criminal court wouldn't hear them didn't mean she wasn't guilty of something.</div> <bR> <div> After quitting the adoption program, she and her husband split up. She became pregnant with a new partner, who was never part of these proceedings.</div> <bR> <div> When she gave birth to a daughter, she immediately had</div> <div> something to lose, and so qualified for family court. Seven months after the birth, child protectors appeared at her door and took her baby into custody, weaning her in the process.</div> <bR> <div> The mandate of every state-funded child-protection agency is to enforce child protection laws. In Ontario, it's called the Child and Family Services Act. By definition, that makes them something like police departments. Like police in the criminal system, caseworkers are not held accountable if they push into the courts persons who shouldn't be there. They may not have the power to arrest parents, but neither are they subject to the same kind of review and second-guessing that police are.</div> <bR> <div> In the criminal system, there are safeguards, such as</div> <div> presumption of innocence, to protect the accused. Hard</div> <div> evidence is needed. In family courts, judges make decisions based mainly on opinions. They could be called trials by psychology.</div> <bR> <div>  An obvious case of child abuse with broken bones or</div> <div> bruises, goes to criminal court. "Maybe" cases, or</div> <div> "it-might-happen" cases, go to family court.</div> <bR> <div> In this case, Judge Jennifer Mackinnon, in her judgment</div> <div> released Nov. 6, made mother's baby daughter a Crown ward to protect her from a mother who may have abused children in the past, and therefore, presumably, could do it again. Psychologists paid by the state to support the CAS case said those were real possibilities. Psychologists hired by the defence said otherwise.</div> <bR> <div> There was hard evidence of injury in the case of the two</div> <div> children who had been temporarily in the mother's care as possible adoptees. The three-year-old required eye surgery for an injury experts said was caused by shaken baby syndrome. That injury is usually associated with babies not developed enough to support their heads. But experts said it could happen to a three-year-old if the shaker was strong enough. Mother said the boy fell down stairs.</div> <bR> <div> There were burns from an iron on the older child. Children</div> <div> don't testify in court, so he said through interviews,</div> <div> reported to the court by experts, that the marks were</div> <div> punishments inflicted by mother. She said he was a strange and damaged child and had burned himself.</div> <bR> <div> The boy made other accusations that became part of the</div> <div> record: She held his head in the toilet. She flushed his</div> <div> brother's head in the toilet. She made him iron. She put him in the washing machine while it was running. He was forced to sit on the toilet while the family ate, and he wasn't fed. She made him eat feces and drink urine. She wrapped a chain around them in the garage and was going to pull them. She kicked. Hit. Pushed.</div> <bR> <div> Those accusations were presented along with an expert</div> <div> opinion that the child did not suffer from "attachment</div> <div> disorder." There were no signs "whatsoever" of</div> <div> self-mutilation. In the final phase of the two-year ordeal,</div> <div> that same expert under cross-examination by lawyer Frank Armitage saw "some partial aspects of attachment disorder."</div> <bR> <div> The words "post-traumatic stress disorder" were added to the psychological soup. A child can get that from being separated from his birth mother. There was agreement that the disorder can result in "a vivid sense that terrible things exist which don't exist."</div> <bR> <div> CAS lawyer David Elhadad presented the court with an</div> <div> impressive profile of mother as a dangerous person. It was painted mainly by opinions from a variety of experts, most of them using psychology.</div> <bR> <div> Journalists in court can't ask questions. Here I can. Why</div> <div> wasn't the woman assessed before two children were left in her care for more than a year? If they were abused, did the protection system not fail them? Where's the accountability?</div> <bR> <div> As a skeptic, I see psychology as a spooky craft too open to error. Its application can be too easily turned and tuned to the needs of lawyers.</div> <bR> <div> For the third time, I saw a twisted test turn up in</div> <div> evidence. It's called the Child Abuse Potential Inventory.</div> <div> You may not have abused a child yet, but maybe you will. In none of the three cases did the mothers pass the test, and always for the same reason.</div> <bR> <div> The way it was worded this time: "(Mother) gave socially</div> <div> desirable responses, perhaps in an attempt to hide negative personal characteristics. Moreover, she wished to present herself in a favourable light to create a positive image.</div> <div> Consequently, the results of the test were invalidated."</div> <bR> <div> In other words, you fail by trying. In the other two cases,</div> <div> they lost their children too.</div> <bR> <div> It smacks of Salem in 1693, and a test for detecting</div> <div> witches. Suspects were bound and thrown into a pool. If they knew how to relax and stay afloat, they were condemned because it must be the Devil holding them up. If they sank and drowned, they weren't witches after all.</div> <bR> <div> In this year's case, there were other tests deemed</div> <div> unreliable because the mother has multiple sclerosis.</div> <bR> <div> What Judge Mackinnon was faced with here was not hard evidence, but opinions on which she had to build a balance of probabilities: Had the mother abused those CAS wards? If so, was she likely to abuse her own child?</div> <bR> <div> There's no room for reasonable doubt. If there is a chance a child may be abused, it's a chance family courts won't take.</div> <bR> <div> Every child is at some risk of abuse, more so as the</div> <div> definition of what constitutes abuse expands. This latest</div> <div> child taken into state care is still at risk -- but any hurt</div> <div> the baby daughter gets won't be from her birth mother.</div> <bR> <div> The last time I talked to the mother, after the decision was delivered, she proved one part of her psychological</div> <div> assessments correct. She's a strong woman with impressive self-control. (Some experts thought those traits were good.)</div> <div> Others said it showed she may be capable of masking her true cruel self.) She was making arrangements for a private polygraph test. She said she will appeal.</div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <div> Friday 15 December 2000</div> <bR> <div> 'Why did somebody decide she couldn't be my mother?'</div> <div> Daughter sees her mother, adoptive parents and herself as victims  - Part 4 of a Series</div> <bR> <div>  Dora Bieber disappeared into the child protection system and was adopted 12 years ago. She's now 19, and has been living with her birth mother for two years. She wants answers.</div> <bR> <div>  "There's nothing wrong with my mother," she said of the</div> <div> woman sitting beside her. "Why did this happen to her? Why did somebody decide she couldn't be my mother?"</div> <bR> <div>  She's looking to me for answers because my name appears as the writer of many stories that for many of those years tracked her mother's one-woman war against the powerful child protectors.</div> <bR> <div>  First Dora wants assurances that nothing will be done to</div> <div> harm or embarrass her adoptive parents, for whom she has respect and admiration. To protect them, she doesn't want her photo taken, nor does she want her adoptive, and now legal, name used. She says they, like herself and her birth mother, are victims.</div> <bR> <div>  It's 8 p.m. Nov. 29. We order supper at a west-end</div> <div> steakhouse, and settle in for a long talk.</div> <bR> <div> First, some truths for Dora. Her mother was indeed arrested 10 times because she refused to accept family court decisions that took away her child, made that child a Crown ward, and made her disappear into adoption. Yes, mother really did at one point spend 10 months in jail, refusing an offer of early release by refusing to agree to conditions.</div> <bR> <div> Yes, I saw her brought into courtrooms wearing jailhouse</div> <div> jumpsuits, chained hand and foot, raising her handcuffs over her head and shouting defiance: "I love my daughter!"</div> <bR> <div> I have long wondered how she managed to locate her daughter so many times, and how she came within a whisker of pulling off an abduction.</div> <bR> <div> After a slow meal and a long talk, we had some answers. But there's still a gap between mother and daughter. There's something unusual about their interaction. In the parking lot, Dora was waiting in the passenger seat of her mother's car, looking straight ahead at nothing. Like her mother, she 's a small woman, and seemed to be trying to make herself disappear between her own hunched shoulders. The body</div> <div> language was clear. She needed a hug.</div> <bR> <div> "I know," said her mother, still standing outside. "I just</div> <div> can't. It would be fake and she'd know that. It would make</div> <div> things worse. I don't fake. It's part of the damage. I can't</div> <div> forget the look on her face that day (of the near</div> <div> abduction).  She recognized me, and she ran. She was afraid of me. That hurt so much.  How could she have believed I would ever hurt her? How could she have believed them?"</div> <bR> <div> Maria slid in behind the wheel, backed the car out, and</div> <div> paused for a moment to adjust the wipers to clear the cold drizzle. Mother and daughter were pushed against their own sides of the car. Both needed a hug, but mother was still too angry, and daughter too frightened.</div> <bR> <div>                   - - -</div> <bR> <div>  Citizen, Dec. 3, 1987, Brown's Beat: "Woman says justice system failed her after husband walked out."</div> <bR> <div> It was the first time Maria Bieber appeared in one of my</div> <div> columns, and it was intended to show a needed repair to</div> <div> marital law. Three years earlier on an October night, Ms.</div> <div> Bieber, after a lengthy visit to her home in Hungary,</div> <div> arrived back in Ottawa with her three-year-old daughter and ailing mother.  Her husband, a bankrupt casket salesman, didn't meet them at the airport as promised. He was gone, along with all their belongings. She was a self-employed hairdresser and he had disposed of her equipment. Everything was gone, including her home and her means of supporting herself and her family. He hadn't kept up the mortgage payments.</div> <bR> <div> For three years, Ms. Bieber knocked on justice's doors</div> <div> demanding he be tracked down, charged with theft, and</div> <div> brought back from Alberta, hogtied if necessary. She was in a fury, and once managed to get into the office of Perth Crown attorney John Waugh. When he said he couldn't help, she left her child, saying she couldn't afford to raise her, so Mr. Waugh would have to. She returned later to get her daughter, but it was an incident that didn't look good years later in front of a family court judge hearing a Children's Aid Society application for custody.</div> <bR> <div> In that first story, her lawyer, Ted Masters, was quoted as</div> <div> saying the kind of theft she experienced was a gap in law that should be closed. It still isn't.   Although marital</div> <div> property is supposed to be joint property, if one partner</div> <div> steals it, police will tell the other party to take it to a</div> <div> lawyer. It's a civil case.</div> <bR> <div> To Maria Bieber, theft was theft and she couldn't put it</div> <div> behind her. Her anger was further fuelled by the realization he was planning his moves before she left for Europe. That he was still sharing her bed while planning his betrayal was the greatest theft of all. "He stole my love."</div> <bR> <div> The social safety net was keeping the small family barely</div> <div> afloat when she arrived at my office in 1987. She had her small daughter with her and the child seemed placid when mother gave a temper-filled account of her circumstances.</div> <div> The girl found things to play with while mother downloaded.</div> <div> She seemed accustomed to mother's emotional high-tension wiring.</div> <bR> <div>                   - - -</div> <bR> <div>  Brown's Beat, Oct. 26, 1988: "Group aims to judge lawyers, fight bad law."</div> <bR> <div> It was a story about people who had paid much money to</div> <div> lawyers and felt they had been burned. They believed they had been little more than raw material for an industry that didn't care. Over the next few years the group would grow to a membership of 170, and then fade away. Shortly after it was founded, Ms. Bieber showed up at a meeting. She became the cause celebre for the group, which called itself CABL-Citizens Against Bad Law. She told how she had been watching television at a shelter for the homeless in 1988, and saw a commercial about the services of the Children's</div> <div> Aid Society of Ottawa Carleton. The main theme of the ad was: We're here to help. If you've got problems, call.</div> <bR> <div> She called and talked to a caseworker and signed an</div> <div> agreement placing her daughter in foster care for three</div> <div> months. She extended that twice while she waited for</div> <div> rent-to-income housing. She frequently visited her daughter and thought she was lucky to be in a country that offered such fine services. Her daughter was in a nice home being cared for by good people.</div> <bR> <div> After getting an apartment and decorating a room for her</div> <div> daughter, she contacted her caseworker and said it was time to bring her daughter back.  The child had been in care for almost nine months.</div> <bR> <div> She says now: "I knew I was in trouble the minute the new caseworker walked in. Up until then, I had been dealing with a woman who had become a friend. She was 62, and I thought of her like a second mother. The new worker was younger. She said she wasn't running a babysitting service and accused me of taking advantage of the system."</div> <bR> <div> Maria Bieber has a hot temper and a low flashpoint. Treated to a view of the eye of one of mother's storms, the social worker decided to apprehend Dora for the child's protection.</div> <bR> <div> The fight was on.</div> <bR> <div> In family courts in child protection cases, the steps are</div> <div> painfully slow. As Maria's access to Dora was slowly</div> <div> reduced, she became more angry and distrustful. She fired lawyers and eventually the only people she would trust were CABL members. They turned out at hearings to show support, and some of them at some points represented her. One of them kept count of her court appearances, but stopped counting at 147.</div> <bR> <div>                   - - -</div> <bR> <div>  Brown's Beat, Nov. 22, 1994: "Woman seeks trial to get back 'lost' child."</div> <bR> <div> Maria Bieber had been in jail for six months at this point.</div> <div> A judge offered her instant freedom if she promised to stop her attempts to abduct the child the system was now referring to as her "former daughter." She had been caught with passports and within a few feet of the girl.</div> <bR> <div> She said no to the judge's offer, and went back to jail for</div> <div> another four months.  She was demanding her case be heard by a criminal court, and she wanted a jury "with mothers on  it." It didn't happen.</div> <bR> <div> Watchers, including police, were impressed by mother's</div> <div> investigative skills.  That she managed to track her</div> <div> daughter and find her, frequently, through a series of</div> <div> foster homes was impressive. At the steakhouse she</div> <div> explained: "I drove all the time, all over the Ottawa and</div> <div> St. Lawrence valleys. I would watch schools.</div> <bR> <div> "Garbage was best. Once I knew where one (foster) home was, I would pick up the garbage and go through it, mainly for phone bills. I would call the numbers and sometimes connect with the next foster home. If I suspected a house might be a foster home, and found a lot of calls to the CAS, I would know I was on the right track."</div> <bR> <div> During dinner at the steakhouse, she focused more than once on the day in 1994 when she almost abducted her former daughter. "I'll never forget the look on Dora's face. I was so close, but she ran. She was afraid of me. They lied to her, and she believed them. She believed I would hurt her.</div> <div> That's what I can't forget."</div> <bR> <div> Dora asked for help making her mother understand. "When they told me I'd never see my mother again (she was seven), I think I cried for three months.  But the surroundings were nice and people were nice and I was just a kid.</div> <bR> <div> There were lots of distractions and I started to change. I</div> <div> started to forget.</div> <bR> <div> "When I was 10, I remember we (she and her foster parents) got all dressed up and went to the courthouse and I was adopted. The judge told me I was lucky and I thought so too.</div> <div> We went out and had a nice dinner, and it was a happy day."</div> <bR> <div> Over the years, the caseworker who took Dora into custody maintained contact. "She told me my mother had gone crazy and was looking for me to kill me. She said my mother wanted to burn my house down. I was terrified. I couldn't sleep. I recognized her running towards me that day, and I ran for my life."</div> <bR> <div> At 13, things were changing in Dora's life. "I didn't feel</div> <div> close to my (adoptive) parents any more. They were, they are, wonderful people. But I started to feel alone. Even when I was with my parents or my friends, I had the feeling of not belonging. I started to smoke. They didn't like that.</div> <div> Did I tell you they even spent a lot of money on riding</div> <div> lessons? I'm a good rider.</div> <bR> <div> "They didn't deserve what happened. I started to feel there was something wrong and I started to rebel. I wouldn't co-operate. I started skipping school.   My marks fell. I used to tell them all the time that the minute I turned 16, I could legally make my own decisions. I would be legal. I would get away from them. I was going to do it. I'm so sorry. They really tried, and I hurt them."</div> <bR> <div> She left in April 1996, the day after her 16th birthday.</div> <bR> <div> Within a few days of her flight from her parents, an</div> <div> anonymous caller told me the girl I knew as Dora was on her own, and where she could be found. She was at a home in a valley town about an hour away. I drove there and left a brief letter for her in the mailbox. If I never heard from her, I wrote, that was her business. But if she needed help, use the number on the business card.</div> <bR> <div> For the next year she drifted, often waking up not knowing how she would get through the day or where she would go to bed that night. She held onto the card and after a year, made the call. She was brief. She wanted her former mother's telephone number. I didn't hear from them again.</div> <bR> <div> On Nov. 27, just a couple of weeks ago, I was at the Elgin Street courthouse and passed them in a corridor. I didn't recognize them. Ms. Bieber called out.  We talked. Did Dora want to tell her story?</div> <bR> <div> "Hell yes," she said. She is angry at the system that took</div> <div> her away from her mother.</div> <bR> <div> Dora made the call to mother in late 1997. The Red Lobster Restaurant on St.   Laurent Boulevard was chosen as the meeting place. They didn't recognize each other for several minutes.</div> <bR> <div> Dora (laughing): "Suddenly I had this crazy woman jabbering away at me in a language I couldn't understand. She switched languages and I still couldn't understand. I thought, oh damn. They were right. She's crazy."</div> <bR> <div> Maria: "When they took her away, she spoke English and Hungarian and Italian as well as I do. I was so afraid she would lose her languages. And she did. At least she didn't get fat."</div> <bR> <div> How did they decide to live together? "I didn't have a</div> <div> choice," says Dora.  "She told me to get in the car. We were going home. It just felt right." Mother is a fitness</div> <div> fanatic, and now daughter is too. They work out regularly</div> <div> together.  No smoking.</div> <bR> <div> Dora is attending an alternate school, maintaining a 90</div> <div> average, and expects to earn her high school diploma by</div> <div> April.</div> <bR> <div> In an attempt to show the child-protection system as, in her word "stupid," Ms. Bieber borrowed a niece from a sister in Hungary. The girl was the same age as Dora. From 1989 to 1994, she played mother to the child, sending her to school as her daughter, using Dora's name and paperwork. She also continued to collect support from social services as a mother of one.</div> <bR> <div> She wanted to force the child protectors to make a move, and get the issue back into court. "If I was such a bad person they took away my own daughter, how could they possibly allow me to have another child in my care?"</div> <bR> <div> CAS didn't bite, and her niece was left in her care.</div> <bR> <div> After the niece returned to her mother in Hungary, speaking excellent English, Ms. Bieber was charged with fraud. She was accused of defrauding the taxpayers of Ontario to the tune of $55,000. She appeared in front of a criminal court in 1998, unrepresented and offering an explanation. Whether the child in her care was her daughter or somebody else's, she was a child in need of support. The court agreed and lowered the amount of the fraud to $7,000, found her guilty and the sentence was two years probation. She will complete the sentence in July.</div> <bR> <div>                   - - -</div> <bR> <div>  Dora's question: A mother loves her child and the child</div> <div> loves mother, and there's no abuse or neglect. Why would anybody tear them apart?</div> <bR> <div> One answer is that it's because there is a Children's Aid</div> <div> Society, but no parents' aid society. Her mother was</div> <div> suffering from depression and was being treated for it. When she signed over temporary custody of her daughter, she was admitting she was flawed. Most of us are, but we don't put it in writing.  The request for help put child protectors in the position of having a child to protect, and they had some difficult choices to make.</div> <bR> <div> Mother was depressed and her anger at the system made her appear irrational. With the interests of only the child in mind, the protectors decided mother's healing time was up, and started separating child from mother. Once that process starts, it doesn't back up.</div> <bR> <div> Maria Bieber has a different answer to the why question. She calls it false advertising. "If I had never called that</div> <div> number, they would never have been in our lives."</div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <div> SOURCE: Ottawa Citizen, 12/16/00</div> <bR> <bR> <div>  We need protection from the protectors</div> <bR> <div> Ottawa parents are 19 times more likely to lose their</div> <div> children to state care than are parents on the Quebec side of the Ottawa River.  The risk that parents will be taken to court by child protectors in the first place is three times higher in Ontario than across the river in Quebec.</div> <bR> <div> Either Quebec authorities are leaving children at risk, or</div> <div> Ontario child protectors are being over-protective. Take</div> <div> your pick, but there has been no noticeable epidemic of</div> <div> child abuse in Quebec.</div> <bR> <div> For Ontario parents, the risk of court challenges by child</div> <div> protectors skyrockets if they're poor. Ottawa lawyer Ross</div> <div> Stewart has been practising at the family bar for 11 years, and is a veteran of protection cases. Among those clients over the years, he can't remember one that wasn't a legal aid case. Only the poor qualify for legal aid.</div> <bR> <div> There are 448 Crown wards on the rolls of the Children's Aid Society of Ottawa-Carleton, which serves a population of 780,000. In Quebec, where Les Centres Jeunesse de l' Outaouais serves a population of 325,000, there are 10 children for which the agency is "tutor," the Quebec equivalent of a Crown ward. Put those figures through a calculator and the number of Crown wards in Ottawa-Carleton is 19 times greater per capita.</div> <bR> <div> In Ontario the decision to remove a child from its family is made by family court judges. In Quebec those decisions are made by judges in juvenile courts. In 1999, according to Attorney General Department figures, Ottawa family courts were asked to decide the fate of 2,151 children. For the same period in the Outaouais, child protectors asked for court decisions for 302 cases. On a per capita basis, that's puts the Ottawa figure three times higher.</div> <bR> <div> Why are the Hull-side figures so low? Luc Cadieux is</div> <div> director of the Outaouais child-protection agency. He says one possible answer is oversight. He has powerful people looking over his shoulder to make sure his child protectors don't abuse their power. His peers in the Ontario system don 't. "It makes you cautious," he says.</div> <bR> <div> Parents in Quebec who believe the protection agency has overstepped its authority, or acted improperly, can complain to the Quebec Human Rights Commission. That agency will investigate, even if the case is being pushed to court.</div> <bR> <div> In Ontario and the rest of North America, rights agencies</div> <div> stand back. They take the view that any involvement in a</div> <div> court-related issue would be interfering with justice.</div> <bR> <div> Family courts are classed as courts of justice, but are</div> <div> they? They do not review hard evidence and scientific fact.</div> <div> If there's any of that, the case appears in a criminal</div> <div> court.</div> <bR> <div> A family court makes decisions it believes to be "in the</div> <div> best interests of the child." Evidence is mainly opinion and theory from social workers and psychologists. There is no requirement that those who put parenting skills on</div> <div> trial-including judges-must themselves be parents.</div> <div> Frequently they are not.</div> <bR> <div> The "best interests" principle has been called, by some</div> <div> legal experts, the vaguest principle in all of statutory</div> <div> law.</div> <bR> <div> For Ontario parents who think they are being abused, the complaints desk is in the same agency they want to complain about.  Children's Aid Societies are arms-length organizations. There are more than 50 in Ontario. There is no oversight.</div> <bR> <div> Regional councillor Alex Munter hears enough cries for help at his office that he has called for a complaints process.</div> <div> Ontario's new ombudsman, Claire Lewis, former commissioner for public police complaints, believes child protection agencies are enough like police services to require oversight. He has offered to take on the role of CAS complaints reviewer-if the legislature will give him the power.</div> <bR> <div> In a family court, the most dangerous accuser parents will face is a psychologist. There are reasons to fear them and their spooky craft. In the '50s and '60s, multiple</div> <div> personality disorders (MPDs) were all the rage in the</div> <div> psychology industry. Many got rich writing about patients</div> <div> they said had several different personalities inhabiting the same body. Since then, the existence of MPDs has largely been discredited.</div> <bR> <div> In the '70s, evidence taken from children by psychologists and presented in courts sent dozens of daycare operators to jail for involving children in satanic rites and sexual abuse. Oops again. It didn't happen. Massive lawsuits are still going on.</div> <bR> <div> Now on the block is suppressed memory syndrome. Reports suggest that those memories are often planted by psychologists' repeated, leading questions.</div> <bR> <div> A new breed of psychologist is emerging, dedicated to</div> <div> exposing junk psychology. One of them is Dr. Tana Dineen of Victoria, author and frequent contributor to this newspaper.</div> <bR> <div> The title of her 1996 book leaves no doubt where she stands;</div> <div> Manufacturing Victims: What the Psychology Industry is Doing to People. For more information visit her Web site at www.tanadineen.com.</div> <bR> <div> Recently I watched three different family court trials in</div> <div> which mothers failed a test called the Child Abuse Potential Inventory (CAP). In each case, psychologists, paid by the prosecution, reported that the mothers were trying so hard to fool the tester by being nice that they were masking their true feelings and invalidating the test.  They didn't pass. They lost their children.</div> <bR> <div> I asked Dr. Dineen for her expert opinion of that test.</div> <bR> <div> "Psychologists are the inquisitors of the modern age witch hunts. They control the uncovering of child abuse and thrive from identifying perpetrators. The tests they use, including such questionable instruments as the CAP, are useful to them for two reasons: The tests sound clinical and scientific, and they cast such a wide net that they identify a significant number of innocent people as potential child abusers."</div> <bR> <div> Family courts provide abundant grazing for psychology. Not only are practitioners highly paid for producing the reams of material that will be logged in as evidence, but there's more good grazing on the periphery. Courts routinely order people to take parenting courses, marriage counselling, anger management courses, addictions counselling and the list grows.</div> <bR> <div> Courts buy psychology as science and the media buys it as sexy. Hardly a week goes by that a new psychological</div> <div> discovery doesn't make a splash in the media.</div> <bR> <div> A new affliction discovered recently in California is called affluenza. The discoverer, with a book bearing that title already on the U.S. market, promises to make nice people of the children of the affluent. The diagnosis is rich kids grow up to be arrogant snots, but don't worry, a treatment has been developed.</div> <bR> <div> The perfect life is living rich in California where you can</div> <div> hire experts to give you angst-free love, guilt-free sex,</div> <div> and snot-free kids.</div> <bR> <div> Psychology is a hard sell in a Quebec child protection case, because judges run courts that require more of a burden of proof. Of the 1,237 files opened in 1999 in Hull juvenile court, 876 were under the Young Offenders Act. The remaining 302 were child protection cases under the Loi de la protection de la Jeunesse.</div> <bR> <div> Parents who truly abuse their children and cause injuries or leave marks, appear in criminal courts. There are harsh penalties.</div> <bR> <div> For the kind of abuse psychologists describe in family</div> <div> courts, though, the aim is not to incarcerate the parents,</div> <div> but to take their children into custody. They go into a</div> <div> foster-care system that regularly turns out adults with a</div> <div> high failure rate. In March, the latest month for which</div> <div> figures are available, there were 14,200 children in the</div> <div> care of all Children's Aid Societies in Ontario. It will</div> <div> cost taxpayers $650 million for their welfare, including</div> <div> foster care.</div> <bR> <div> When we created family court with its reduced burden of</div> <div> proof, we established an institution. Institutions grow and, to do that, they need numbers. This institution is served by dedicated professionals in the child-protection system who, through no fault of their own, provide the system with what it needs to keep growing-a body count.</div> <bR> <div> The problem is the system, not the people in it.</div> <bR> <div> Only public pressure is going to bring about change.</div> <div> Politicians are locked into the idea that more power for the child- protection industry means more protected children.</div> <div> What's needed is protection from the</div> <div> protectors-accountability-and that's not going to happen</div> <div> until the public demands it.</div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <div> SOURCE: Los Angeles Times</div> <div> Courtesy CPS Watch News</div> <div> Wed, 20 Dec 2000</div> <bR> <bR> <div> Lawsuit Calls Kids' Shelters Harmful</div> <bR> <div> The state is blamed for crowding and chaos in county centers where abused children await foster homes.</div> <bR> <div> By CARLA RIVERA, Times Staff Writer</div> <bR> <div> Thousands of abused and neglected children awaiting foster homes in California are being housed in overcrowded and dangerous conditions in</div> <div> county shelters, according to a lawsuit filed Monday by a</div> <div> public interest law center. The suit, filed in San Francisco</div> <div> Superior Court by the nonprofit Youth Law Center, alleges that the state has not enforced proper standards of care at shelters in nine counties, including</div> <div> Orange, Los Angeles and San Diego.</div> <bR> <div> The shelters are designed as temporary refuges for children removed from abusive or neglectful homes and waiting for placement in foster care. The Youth Law Center filed a formal complaint with the California</div> <div> Department of Social Services in October asking that the shelters be investigated and ordered to stop operating. When the agency failed to respond, the lawsuit was filed against state social services Director Rita Saenz, said Youth Law Center attorney Shannan Wilber. "Social Services has been aware of the dangerous and unconscionable conditions at these facilities for years," Wilber said.</div> <bR> <div> Some county-run facilities are licensed, but many are not.  The state adopted a policy in 1985 exempting publicly run shelters from licensing requirements, which  the lawsuit contends puts youngsters at risk.</div> <bR> <div> In contrast, all private group homes and shelters must be</div> <div> licensed.</div> <bR> <div> Orangewood Home's Example Applauded</div> <bR> <div> Youth Law Center Executive Director Carole B. Shauffer used Orange County's Orangewood Children's Home as an example of how county-run shelters can drastically reduce overcrowding and place children in</div> <div> family-like settings.</div> <bR> <div> The Youth Law Center sued in 1998 to improve conditions there. "When we went in, we were shocked by number of kids and the conditions," she said. "We literally couldn't walk between beds where they were sleeping. Since the lawsuit, they have actually closed two of those cottages. There was alot of focus, attention and hard work, saying, 'This is our priority.'</div> <bR> <div> Their example is a good argument that it can be done.</div> <bR> <div> "The law center now is pressing to have Orangewood licensed. State licensing regulations prohibit overcrowding, establish minimum staff qualifications and training levels, strictly limit the use of physical</div> <div> restraints, provide that infants and toddlers receive</div> <div> special developmental care, and detail the privacy and</div> <div> personal rights of children, among other provisions.</div> <bR> <div> State officials said they had not had a chance to review the lawsuit and would not respond in detail. But they said the administration of Gov. Gray Davis should not have to defend policy decisions made under previous governors.</div> <bR> <div> "We're familiar with the issues and will be working</div> <div> with the Youth Law Center and the counties to review the</div> <div> options; everything is open to discussion," said Department of Social Services spokeswoman Blanca Barna.</div> <bR> <div> Wilber said it is not uncommon for county shelters to house two or three times the number of children for which they were designed, and for children to be held for months, rather than a few hours or days as originally intended. In addition, the suit charges that county-run</div> <div> shelters routinely use excessive force and unwarranted</div> <div> physical restraints.</div> <bR> <div> According to the complaint, children are forced to sleep in hallways or overcrowded rooms, do not receive mental health care and are treated like juvenile offenders even though they are the victims of abuse and neglect.</div> <bR> <div> Los Angeles County's MacLaren Children's Center, according to the complaint, has a capacity of 125 children, but the average daily population during the first part of 2000 reached 152. On one day-- April 30--181 children werebeing held at the facility, the suit said.</div> <bR> <div> "Confinement at MacLaren subjects children to a chaotic, violent and dangerous environment," the complaint says. "Statistics for the first six months of 2000 show that police were called to MacLaren almost twice a day on average. Since January 2000, at least 53 children have been arrested at MacLaren.</div> <bR> <div> "MacLaren is run by a consortium of Los Angeles County agencies, including the chief administrative office, mental health, probation, education and the Department of Children and Family Services.</div> <bR> <div> Anita Bock, children's services director for about a year,</div> <div> said she had not had a chance to review the lawsuit and</div> <div> could not comment on its specifics. (Counties are not named as defendants.) Bock acknowledged that overcrowding had been a problem at MacLaren, but she said conditions have improved recently and that the population generally has been kept to its 125 capacity. Bock said a lack of adequate foster care in the community had hindered efforts to keep the center to</div> <div> its short-term mission.</div> <bR> <div> Crowding, Outburst at San Diego Center</div> <bR> <div> San Diego County's Polinsky Center is an example of how conditions at the shelters can spiral out of control,</div> <div> according to the suit. The average daily population in June was 231, even though the shelter was built to house 130 children. In April, there was a riot in the adolescent girls unit, with children destroying property, fighting one</div> <div> another and staff members, and barricading themselves in their rooms.</div> <bR> <div> Several girls required medical treatment and 17 were</div> <div> arrested. The cottage where they were housed was built for no more than 30 girls and housed 40.</div> <bR> <div> The San Diego County Human Services Agency blamed the violence on overcrowding and predicted that it would recur.  San Diego County officials said they had not seen the suit and declined to respond.</div> <bR> <div> Shauffer, the Youth Law Center executive director, said</div> <div> publicly run shelters didn't do enough to provide such</div> <div> services as counseling or develop a larger foster home</div> <div> network.</div> <bR> <div> "They are not requiring their social workers to make the</div> <div> effort it takes to connect kids to resources," she said.</div> <div> "Several reports have shown that being in shelters and</div> <div> extended, repeat stays under conditions that exist</div> <div> incounty-run facilities are leading to mental health</div> <div> problems.</div> <bR> <div> Copyright 2000 Los Angeles Times</div> <div> http://www.latimes.com/editions/orange/20001219/t000120979.h</div> <div> tml</div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <div> SOURCE: Associated Press Regional Wire</div> <div> Wed, 20 Dec 2000</div> <bR> <div> $4 million settlement recommended for brain-damaged child</div> <bR> <div> LOS ANGELES (AP) -- The county should pay $4 million to care for a child who was left severely brain-damaged because her foster mother fed her Prozac, Xanax and other drugs for years, a panel recommended.</div> <bR> <div> The lawsuit settlement, if approved by the Board of</div> <div> Supervisors on Jan. 9,would be among the largest the county has ever paid to a single plaintiff, County Counsel Lloyd W. Pellman said.</div> <bR> <div> It was recommended Monday by the county claims board.The money would provide overall care for the 4-year-old girl, who is in around-the-clock care facility, said attorney Richard Voorhies, who filed the negligence lawsuit in</div> <div> Superior Court on the girl's behalf. "What happened to this child was absolutely horrendous," Voorhies said.</div> <bR> <div> In a memo to supervisors, county lawyers said the county</div> <div> failed to follow its own guidelines for supervising the</div> <div> girl, identified in legal papers as Baby S.</div> <bR> <div> The girl, then 6 months old, was placed with Lynette Harms of Carpinteria in 1996. According to the lawsuit, Harms, who had adopted Baby S's older sister, was a drug addict and over several years gave the child Phenobarbital, the sedative Xanax, the antidepressant Prozac, the sleeping drug chloral hydrate and other drugs. Some drugs were prescribed by a local pediatrician but required court approval was</div> <div> never sought, according to the lawsuit.</div> <bR> <div> In 1999, the comatose girl was taken to Santa Barbara</div> <div> Hospital, where she was found to have brain and liver</div> <div> damage.The lawsuit, alleging negligence, said some of the five social workers on the case failed to make legally</div> <div> required visits to the home. None were made between April and October 1998, according to a claims board document.</div> <bR> <div> Harms was convicted of shoplifting in Santa Maria in 1998 and her foster license was revoked the next year, the lawsuit said. Harms, the pediatrician and pharmacies previously agreed to settle their parts of the lawsuit for $3.45 million.</div> <bR> <div> http://www.sacbee.com/news/calreport/calrep_story.cgi?N386.H</div> <div> TML</div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <div> The Globe and Mail, Saturday, October 14, 2000</div> <bR> <div> Court okays child seizures</div> <div> No warrant needed in danger cases, Supreme Court rules in split decision</div> <bR> <div> By David Roberts</div> <bR> <bR> <div> WINNIPEG -- Social workers don't need a legal warrant to seize children they think are in danger, the Supreme Court of Canada ruled yesterday.</div> <div> The court, ruling on a complaint by a Winnipeg mother whose day-old baby was taken in 1996, said children in several provinces may be at risk because social workers are required to obtain warrants before seizing them in non-emergency situations.</div> <bR> <div> Social workers who reasonably think a child needs protection should be able to remove them in these circumstances without warrants, the court</div> <div> said in a 5-2 ruling.</div> <bR> <div> The dissenting judges warned that giving such powers to social workers could lead to abuses.</div> <bR> <div> The Winnipeg mother, a former prostitute identified only as K.L.W., argued the seizure of her third child without a warrant violated her right to security of the person under the Charter of Rights and Freedoms. The child was taken from a hospital by Winnipeg Child and</div> <div> Family Services shortly after it was born.</div> <bR> <div> Yesterday's ruling will not change the current practice of</div> <div> social-service agencies in Manitoba, which can apprehend children without warrants but are required to later explain their actions in court.</div> <bR> <div> But the ruling could affect provinces and territories where warrants are still required for seizures of children in non-emergencies.</div> <bR> <div> "It is a great deal of authority," Deborah Zanke, communications officer for Winnipeg Child and Family Services, said about the non-warrant seizures. "It's always a last resort.</div> <bR> <div> "The major issue is, should CFS require a warrant in non-emergency situations?" Ms. Zanke said.</div> <bR> <div> The Supreme Court said that adopting an "emergency" threshold as the constitutional minimum for apprehending a youngster without a warrant is</div> <div> dangerous for children. This "risks allowing significant danger to children's lives and health," Madam Justice Claire L'Heureux-Dubé wrote for the majority.</div> <bR> <div> "The state must be able to take preventive action to protect children and should not always be required to wait until a child has been seriously harmed before being able to intervene," the judge wrote.</div> <bR> <div> Officials in several provinces were reviewing the decision to see how their child and family legislation might be affected by the Supreme Court finding.</div> <bR> <div> Assessing the extent to which a child is at risk is always tricky because abuse and neglect often happen in private, the court said.</div> <bR> <div> "It's often not a black-and-white situation," Ms. Zanke suggested. "I think the Supreme Court recognized this, that it's not always easy to determine what is an emergency or non-emergency situation."</div> <bR> <div> Madam Justice Louise Arbour, writing the dissent, said it is possible to distinguish emergencies from non-emergencies and to reduce risks to children while</div> <div> warrants are obtained.</div> <bR> <div> Warrants for non-emergency seizures are "constitutionally necessary, in order to protect both parents and children from unreasonable state</div> <div> interference," she wrote.Chief Justice Beverley McLachlin agreed with this view.</div> <bR> <div> Indeed, children can be damaged if social workers seize them unnecessarily, Judge L'Heureux-Dubé acknowledged.</div> <bR> <div> But this risk is outweighed by the risk to the child if social-services authorities are forced</div> <div> to delay. "A child should never be placed in such jeopardy," Judge L'Heureux-Dubé said.</div> <bR> <div> Who Guards the Guardians?</div> <div> by RUTH THORNING, Photos by CHAD HARDER</div> <bR> <div> "This agency is above the law," says Ken Haugen, founder of a support group for people who have had difficult encounters with CPS. "Judges and law enforcement need to be educated</div> <div> that CPS caseworkers are not always as expert as they</div> <div> appear."</div> <bR> <div> Child Protective Services is one of Montana's most secretive and powerful agencies. Now, Missoula groups are trying to break its code of silence.</div> <bR> <div> The stark photos of Elian Gonzalez being taken by federal agents had a particular resonance with one teenage girl in Missoula last week. As she looked at the contrasting photos of the boy crying as he was being rushed from the home of his Miami relatives and then smiling and hugging his father, her comments gave a unique perspective to the issue.</div> <bR> <div> "He belongs with his father. No one should have kept them apart," the girl believes. "No one should be torn away from their family."</div> <bR> <div> This teenager knows what she is talking about. A few years ago, the state's Child Protective Services (CPS, then known as the Department of Family Services) came to her school and swept her and her sisters away from her family. They wereapart for three and a half months. She remembers it vividly. The scars run deep. They will always hurt.</div> <bR> <div> It is her story-and that of her mother and many others-that</div> <div> forms the basis of a new campaign by Montana Peoples' Action (MPA): to force reforms in how CPS takes action with Montana families.</div> <bR> <div> Janet Robideau, organizer of the MPA subgroup Indian Peoples ' Action (IPA), is spearheading the drive to force more accountability from CPS. "I am absolutely appalled that an organization funded by our tax dollars wields this much power," Robideau says. "What we're looking at is who these people are accountable to."</div> <bR> <div> Together, IPA and MPA have started forming a campaign for the 2001 legislative session. The focus will be legislation to require oversight and responsibility from Child Protective Services, something that is lacking now,</div> <div> according to Robideau.</div> <bR> <div> "Everything to do with CPS is conducted in secret,</div> <div> supposedly to protect the children," Robideau says. "But it prevents the parents from being able to know what they are accused of, who accused them. They can't respond. They have no rights."</div> <bR> <div> But Art Dreiling, regional director of Child Protective</div> <div> Services, believes the secrecy is a vital factor in his</div> <div> department's work. "To me, family confidentiality is the big issue," Dreiling says. "We usually have quite a history with a family. Does that have too be an open book for the whole community?"</div> <bR> <div> One Mother's Story</div> <bR> <div> In some cases, it might be better that way, according to</div> <div> people who have been involved with the system. In the case of the three sisters, they were taken from school because of allegations of criminal activity by their then-stepfather.</div> <div> As a result, their mother, who is an education worker, was told she was a neglectful parent who was not capable of protecting her own children.</div> <bR> <div> "They were missing. They didn't come home from school. I was frantic," remembers Marsha, who asked that her real name be kept confidential. "Finally a school official told me that CPS took the children and that they said I had been notified. That wasn't true. I didn't hear from CPS until several hours later. They told me my husband was in trouble with the law and the children had been taken for their own safety."</div> <bR> <div> Marsha hired an attorney that evening. The next morning they were at the CPS office. Because she was there with a lawyer, CPS officials refused to meet and talk with her.</div> <bR> <div> "One of them asked me, 'How can you afford an attorney?' and told me I was not being cooperative," Marsha remembers. "Well, I couldn't afford an attorney, but I worked it off in trade. I did what I had to do."</div> <bR> <div> The investigation of Marsha and her husband-and the taking of the children-was completely legal under CPS regulations.  CPS was not required to provide any information to them about the case. Marsha was not allowed to see the children (ages 5, 8 and 12) for two weeks. Marsha was allowed one brief telephone conversation with her oldest daughter, who</div> <div> cried and asked why she wasn't cooperating with CPS so they could come home.</div> <bR> <div> "They told the children my husband was still in the home and that wasn't true," Marsha says. "He moved out right after they took the children. They told the children I wouldn't cooperate when they refused to talk to me because I had an attorney with me. They were lying to the children. Every time they talked to me they made me feel like an unfit mother who could not take care of my children."</div> <bR> <div> In order to be allowed one-hour supervised visits with the</div> <div> children, Marsha was required to undergo evaluation with a psychologist selected by CPS. When the evaluation recommended that Marsha was a fit parent and the children should be returned to her, CPS told the court they were not "convinced."</div> <bR> <div> "I just really felt they had total power," she says. "They</div> <div> withheld information. They would never say what they wanted me to do. They kept coming up with more requirements. They would never answer any questions."</div> <bR> <div> The CPS investigation, which is said to be confidential for the children's sake, didn't stay that way in Marsha's case.  CPS interviewed co-workers and her supervisors were made aware of the allegations against her. Her job was in jeopardy.</div> <bR> <div> "I have a real cynical view of what they do and how they do it," Marsha recalls. "I never felt any CPS worker listened to me or believed what I said. "They don't let you face an accuser. They carry all the authority and the rules. It makes you paranoid."</div> <bR> <div> Marsha was in court more than six times for hearings. She was evaluated and interviewed. Finally she was allowed three-hour supervised visits with the children in a park.</div> <div> She recalls the day things finally came to crisis level.</div> <bR> <div> When she met her daughters, the 8-year-old was in tears. She had been beaten up by another, older child at the foster care home where they were now living. When Marsha confronted the caseworker about the incident, the woman's reaction shocked her. "She told me my daughter 'embellished' the incident and that was to be expected considering 'what you have put your kids through.' She was saying the girls were lying and it was my fault," she remembers.</div> <bR> <div> Later that evening she got a frantic call from her oldest</div> <div> daughter. The younger girl had been attacked again. Her</div> <div> older sister intervened and hit the boy. Her hand was badly hurt but the caregivers would not let her have medical attention.</div> <bR> <div> "I called 9-1-1 and a policeman went and took my daughter to the hospital. Her hand was broken and they were not going to help her," Marsha says. "That was the deciding point."</div> <bR> <div> Marsha had been working with a Missoula-area support group of parents with similar CPS problems. She went public, talking to every state, county and municipal official she could reach. She let it be known she was willing to talk about her case.</div> <bR> <div> "I was at a political rally at 8 p.m. one evening. I told</div> <div> two local legislators I had been contacted by a producer</div> <div> from '60 Minutes' and the program was coming to Missoula to look at the situation," Marsha recalls. "At 8 a.m. the next morning, I got a call from the CPS caseworker who said she had to see me right then. Twenty minutes later I was in her office and she told me they had 'concluded' the investigation and there was 'no cause' for our continued separation. I was being given my children back. By 9:18, I had the girls again."</div> <bR> <div> What Marsha did not have was any explanation. When she asked about the investigation, she was told to "just be happy" it was over and that she had the children back. She was told all charges had been dropped but when she sought documentation to prove that, it wasn't so. It took two more trips to court to get all charges expunged.</div> <bR> <div> "Never an apology. Never an explanation. Never the truth in anything that happened," Marsha says. "It's these things that have made me an activist in this cause. It's changed our lives. It's impacted my ability to do my job. We were all in counseling together for more than two years. Over and over they told me I was a bad parent. The constant theme was 'Well, you're trying but you don't have the ability to care for and protect your children.' And I'm fortunate. I got my children back."</div> <bR> <div> Today, Marsha works with other people who are involved with CPS now and she is helping MPA's committee to create oversight legislation to limit CPS's powers.</div> <bR> <div> "Each time I meet troubled parents, I ask them if they feel</div> <div> like they are worth nothing. They always ask how I know that and I tell them I was there. I was made to feel that way too," Marsha says. "No one should be made to feel that way."</div> <bR> <div> But Dreiling says he is "very comfortable" with the legal</div> <div> aspects of the way CPS handles cases. Under recent federal guidelines, there are citizens' review boards in place in both Ravalli and Missoula counties that review the cases of any child who is in foster care for more than six months.</div> <div> The citizens' boards make recommendations to the presiding judge in each case, according to Dreiling.</div> <bR> <div> "My feeling in this is that I never have any problem with</div> <div> review as long as it doesn't cause more effort and heartache for the family," he says.</div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <div> Art Dreiling, regional director of Child Protective</div> <div> Services, believes the secrecy is a vital factor in his</div> <div> department's work. "To me, family confidentiality is the big issue," he says. "We usually have quite a history with a family. Does that have too be an open book for the whole community?"</div> <bR> <div> Going Behind Closed Doors</div> <bR> <bR> <div> Robideau, Marsha and others have been collecting</div> <div> information, interviewing parents and working with people who have had their children taken away since early 1998.</div> <div> They have accumulated reams of information, much of it cases of personal observation. The stories fill them with anger and frustration. But they also make them determined to continue with the fight.</div> <bR> <div> Robideau refers to a recent trip she took to Billings. While there, she was called to a Native American home. A 7-year-old girl was living with her grandmother because the child's mother had an alcohol problem. The child and her grandmother were very close. The little girl didn't come home from school one day. The frantic grandmother spent the afternoon trying to find the little girl. Finally, with the help of a Title IX school worker who was an IPA member, the grandmother went to the police. About 9 p.m. that night, she discovered the child had been taken by CPS.</div> <bR> <div> "The principal had called CPS because he said the child was being neglected and not cared for properly," Robideau remembers. "When we investigated, we found that the child'sclothing was sometimes mismatched-stripes and spots, that sort of thing. This was a low-income family and they didn't have a lot. I went to the home. It was sparse but spotless.</div> <div> The grandmother washed the little girl's clothes by hand.</div> <div> She was taken away because her socks didn't match. The principal had no conception of the Native American extended family."</div> <bR> <div> Because the grandmother didn't have legal custody and the mother wasn't capable of caring for the little girl, CPS</div> <div> refused to return the child to the grandmother. The little</div> <div> girl is still in foster care and her grandmother never sees</div> <div> her, Robideau says.</div> <bR> <div> "This is so wrong," she says.</div> <bR> <div> In another recent case, Robideau accompanied a woman to a CPS interview in Missoula. CPS had the woman's 18-month-old daughter in custody because of the woman's alcoholism.</div> <bR> <div> "The woman is doing well in a 12-step program. She's dealing with the problem. This woman is educated, has a degree, works-but she was afraid to face them [CPS] alone," Robideau says. "I found out why."</div> <bR> <div> At the interview, the woman sat on one side of a conference table. On the other side was a CPS counselor, a CPS attorney, the toddler's foster mother and the woman's own attorney. Robideau sat quietly in the back of the room, observing.</div> <bR> <div> "They interrogated her. It was a grilling," Robideau</div> <div> recalls. "The issue was a recent visit of the baby to her</div> <div> mother's home. She's gotten into a bottle of pancake syrup and spilled it on herself and the foster mother had not left a change of clothes for the little girl. Mom had hand-washed the baby's shirt and tried to get the syrup out her hair, but those efforts weren't enough for the foster mother. She said 'every time' the baby visited her mother she came home dirty and that she didn't believe the mother watched her properly."</div> <bR> <div> All four women questioned the mother. Robideau watched as the woman went from sitting up straight and making eye contact to slumped down in her chair in tears under the barrage of criticism.</div> <bR> <div> "Finally I couldn't take it and I spoke up," Robideau</div> <div> remembers. "I said what they were doing was appalling and it was total mistreatment of another human being. I said the Indian community would be up in arms if they knew how people were being treated in these so-called conferences."</div> <bR> <div> Robideau identified herself to the inquisitors as the</div> <div> chairman of the board of the Missoula Indian Peoples' Center and a member of IPA/MPA. "There was an immediate and total change of attitude," Robideau says. "The temperament level went down. They quit talking to her and started talking to me, trying to explain their viewpoint. The meeting was quickly over. At the end the mother asked, 'What are you</div> <div> going to do?' She soon found out."</div> <bR> <div> Once-a-week visits with the baby ended after that</div> <div> conference, Robideau says. It was four months before the woman was allowed to see her child again-after the</div> <div> completion of a CPS-ordered parenting class. "During that entire time, the counselors have been at her to terminate her parental rights, telling her she is not a good parent and the best thing is for her to give the baby up," Robideau says. "Two weeks ago she told me they have convinced her to sign custody over to the state. I asked if that was what she wanted to do and she answered, 'No, but they say it is the only thing I can do.' This isn't right."</div> <bR> <div> Robideau believes it's things like this in the system that</div> <div> must be changed. Protection of children-all children-is</div> <div> vital, but so is the protection of the constitutional rights</div> <div> of parents, she says. One of her biggest concerns is the</div> <div> fear and perceived retaliation that parents report from CPS.</div> <bR> <div> "The atmosphere of fear is overwhelming. Parents question the system and then are denied visits with their children.</div> <div> They have no rights once they are in the CPS system,"</div> <div> Robideau says. "They have no ability to receive answers to any questions. They are punished if they even ask questions.</div> <div> No agency should have that kind of power."</div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <div> "I couldn't take it and I spoke up," recalls Janet Robideau,organizer for Indian Peoples' Action, of one CPS meeting. "I said what they were doing was appalling and it was total</div> <div> mistreatment of another human being. I said the Indian</div> <div> community would be up in arms if they knew how people were being treated in these so-called conferences..."</div> <bR> <div> Families in Pain</div> <bR> <bR> <div> CPS's interaction with parents has been a cause for concern for a long time, Robideau says. In 1992 Ken Haugen of Missoula formed a group called Parents in Pain, whose members had lost custody of their children to CPS. The group has since been absorbed into other community action groups but now Haugen is working with Robideau and the others to promote legislation for overseeing CPS.</div> <bR> <div> Haugen, a retired postal worker, never had children taken from him by CPS, but he watched a CPS case destroy his brother and his brother's family. Children were taken from that home based on allegations by a vengeful former spouse.</div> <div> Eventually both Haugen's brother and his wife attempted</div> <div> suicide. The children did poorly in foster care. A family</div> <div> was destroyed and nothing was ever substantiated from the original complaints. No charges were pressed. There was no follow-up investigation.</div> <bR> <div> "That was where I got started," Haugen says. "This agency is above the law. Judges and law enforcement need to be educated that CPS caseworkers are not always as expert as they appear. They can have their own agendas and no one can ever tell if they do."</div> <bR> <div> Haugen has a loose-leaf notebook full of stories of families in pain. One child was taken from a family because of allegations of sexual abuse. Those allegations were never substantiated but while the child was in foster care, he was sexually abused by a caregiver. The child is reunited with his parents now but will be in counseling for years to come.</div> <bR> <div> "Often the people who have to deal with CPS are low-income and minorities," Haugen says. "The parents have no money, no education, no resources. They have to do as they are told.</div> <div> CPS controls everything. If parents question the system,</div> <div> they are retaliated against. CPS says that isn't so but the</div> <div> parents tell a very different story."</div> <bR> <div> In one recent case, Robideau was asked to help a woman who said her twice-weekly visits with her children were cut to once a month when she complained about a CPS caseworker.</div> <bR> <div> "We went through the process-from the caseworker to the supervisor to the director in Missoula to a Helena</div> <div> supervisor," Robideau says. "Finally we met with Hank</div> <div> Hudson, state CPS director. He listened to her complaints and said, 'Oh, I don't believe that' and referred us back to the director in Missoula. Back at the local office, we never got any explanation. The woman just gave up. She said she couldn't fight them if she ever wanted to get her children back."</div> <bR> <div> In a recent interview, Hudson recalled meeting with a group of parents in Missoula several years ago. He stated he had never been subjected to such open anger and hostility. He had expected polite discussion. It was Haugen's support group that met with Hudson. Haugen says he doesn't believe the behavior Hudson expected is possible. "Parents who have had their children taken from them are not going to be calm and polite," he says. "It didn't happen at the meeting Hudson talked about. It will never happen. This is an emotionally charged issue."</div> <bR> <div> Haugen said the legislation his group is writing calls for</div> <div> accountability by CPS to someone outside the agency. "They have to answer to someone," Haugen says. "Perhaps an independent peer council can be established or a supervisory board. They have to be able to prove they are at least following their own policy manual and that they are answerable for their actions."</div> <bR> <div> Dreiling says he is not aware of IPA/MPA's political</div> <div> activism or their plans for additional legislative</div> <div> oversight. He says he does not feel peer review would be workable or recommendable, however. "I'm not familiar with their plans," Dreiling says. "I'm not sure what peer review would be to the department. The things we go to court on are confidential. I'm not sure how you could review that."</div> <bR> <div> MPA is already meeting with current legislators and</div> <div> legislative candidates to gather support for their bills in</div> <div> the coming legislative session. They will be asking for</div> <div> candidates to take stands on the issues they believe are</div> <div> important.</div> <bR> <div> "There are about 300 members in the Indian Peoples' Action group and about 6,000 in Montana Peoples' Action," Robideau says. "MPA is affiliated with labor organizations with more than 50,000 members across the state. We'll carry our messages to them and that is a voting force legislators need to pay attention to. The problems are here and need to be</div> <div> addressed. We're here and we're working on it."</div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <div>            San Diego Union-Tribune</div> <div>                                     Thursday, Nov. 2, 2000</div> <bR> <div>               Escondido to pay $750,000 to parents of 2</div> <div> seized kids</div> <bR> <div>                                           By Mark Sauer</div> <div>                                              Staff Writer</div> <bR> <bR> <div> ESCONDIDO -- Police officers came in the middle of the night to take the two young children away. The boy's third birthday coincided with the impending fall equinox, and officials believed his family planned to kill him that day as a sacrifice to Satan.</div> <bR> <div> Now, nine years after their son and 5-year-old daughter were taken from their beds, Bill and Becky Wallis will collect $750,000 from the city of Escondido.</div> <bR> <div> Perhaps fittingly, news of the federal court judgment</div> <div> arrived on Halloween.</div> <bR> <div> The money comes as a result of a lawsuit the family filed in 1992 against Escondido police, county social workers and a physician for violating their constitutional rights to be free from "unreasonable intrusions on their privacy, person and home."</div> <bR> <div> Twice, a U.S. District Court judge ruled against the</div> <div> Wallises and dismissed their lawsuit, and twice they</div> <div> appealed to a higher court and had it reinstated.</div> <bR> <div> Bill and Becky Wallis are elated that their perseverance</div> <div> paid off.</div> <bR> <div> "We are so happy that Escondido finally admitted they were wrong. That was the main thing for us, it wasn't about money," Becky Wallis said yesterday.</div> <bR> <div> "Hopefully, what we went through in this case will keep it</div> <div> from happening to someone else.</div> <bR> <div> "The whole thing was so bizarre and such a shock to our</div> <div> family. It's still unbelievable to us that anyone could have</div> <div> put stock in such a story."</div> <bR> <div> The Wallis case was the product of a satanic scare that</div> <div> swept through San Diego and many other communities a decade ago.</div> <bR> <div> It was a time when certain psychotherapists, social workers, police officers and prosecutors became convinced that secret cults were subjecting children to all sorts of evil rituals, even murder.</div> <bR> <div> The threat here was considered so dire that San Diego County established a Ritual Abuse Task Force. But finding evidence was another matter, and the task force disbanded without fanfare.</div> <bR> <div> Court documents show that the Wallises' ordeal began during a September 1991 session in a psychiatric hospital between Becky Wallis' sister, a schizophrenic with a history of severe mental illness, and Candace Young, a psychotherapist who served on the Ritual Abuse Task Force.</div> <bR> <div> The sister -- from whom the Wallises were estranged</div> <div> following her unsubstantiated claim against Bill Wallis of abuse in 1990 -- reported through one of her multiple personalities that a terrible thing was about to happen: Bill Wallis would sacrifice his young son during the "Fall Equinox ritual," and the killing would be masked by a car accident in which the boy's body would be incinerated.</div> <bR> <div> The sister based this on her recently recovered "memory" from 20 years earlier of her father, Dave Stecks, wearing a cult robe and chanting hypnotically, "On the first full moon after two blue moons a child will be killed."</div> <bR> <div> Young, a marriage and family counselor, reported this to</div> <div> Child Protective Services.</div> <bR> <div> Sue Plante, a CPS social worker involved with other alleged satanic-abuse cases, launched an investigation. Escondido police were notified, along with a deputy district attorney, Jane Via.</div> <bR> <div> According to court documents, Plante was told by Via that "we have enough to pick up the kids." But social workers never formally petitioned a judge, and no court order was ever issued to take the children into protective custody.</div> <bR> <div> Escondido Police Officers Diana Pitcher and Ralph Claytor, and their supervisor Ken Burkett, however, testified about getting a call from CPS saying a court had ordered the Wallis children to be picked up.</div> <bR> <div> But even without the order, the officers testified, they</div> <div> believed the children were in danger from satanists and they acted reasonably.</div> <bR> <div> Their investigation, they said, had turned up a curious fact about the kids' grandfather: Dave Stecks, the alleged satanic priest, lived on a boat in Oceanside Harbor named the "Witch Way."</div> <div> Never mind that the vessel was named that when Stecks bought it.</div> <bR> <div> Foster families</div> <bR> <div> The Wallis children were taken to Hillcrest Receiving Home, then shuttled between foster families for the next 21/2 months.</div> <bR> <div> A Juvenile Court judge discounted the satanic-abuse</div> <div> allegations, but kept the children from their parents</div> <div> because Dr. Mary Spencer reported that the daughter showed signs of sexual abuse in an extensive physical examination.</div> <bR> <div> But that finding was reversed two months later when Dr.</div> <div> Susan Horowitz, a child-abuse specialist at Children's</div> <div> Hospital, reported that her examination of Spencer's records and photos of the Wallis girl revealed no abuse.</div> <bR> <div> "No one now contends that either child was ever sexually or physically abused," a federal appellate judge wrote last fall.</div> <bR> <div> After 68 days, during which Becky Wallis lost her job and</div> <div> about 20 pounds, and the children cried constantly for their parents, according to court records, the brother and sister were sent home.</div> <bR> <div> The Wallises sued.</div> <bR> <div> In 1997, they settled for "a nominal amount" with the county of San Diego. Spencer was dropped as a defendant after a ruling that she was immune from the suit by law.</div> <bR> <div> Now the Wallises have a stipulated judgment against the city of Escondido.  The case is not quite over, however.</div> <bR> <div> A lawsuit remains against the individual police officers,</div> <div> including Pitcher, who is still on the force, and Claytor and Burkett, both retired.</div> <bR> <div> A motion by the city to dismiss the suit is to be ruled on</div> <div> soon.</div> <bR> <bR> <div> Actions defended</div> <bR> <div> "I remain convinced that the actions our Police Department took were consistent with custom and practice at that time," Mark Waggoner, assistant city attorney for Escondido, said yesterday.</div> <bR> <div> "What they had was a therapist telling them there was a</div> <div> legitimate threat to the kids' safety, a CPS worker saying</div> <div> there was a court order and a DA agreeing the threat needed to be taken seriously. Looking at all that, I can see an officer saying, 'I may be skeptical about this satanic stuff, but what if I don't take those kids and then</div> <div> something happens?' "</div> <bR> <div> In reinstating the lawsuit last year, the appellate court</div> <div> judge found that the city had not conducted "any significant investigation" of what were extraordinary allegations before seizing the children.</div> <bR> <div> Donnie Cox, an attorney representing the Wallises, said the lawsuit changed the law in that parents now must grant permission before "doctors are allowed to do invasive examinations of their children."</div> <bR> <div> Becky Wallis said the judgment sends a message to social workers, prosecutors, police officers and others with power over the lives of parents and children.</div> <bR> <div> "I think such people are a lot more cautious when making such critical decisions then they were back then. At least we hope so," she said.</div> <bR> <div> "We were pretty trusting people once. We thought that bad things don't happen to good people. But our kids learned at age 3 and 5 that life sometimes is horribly unfair. We have all been through a terrible experience and our lives will never be what they once were because of all this."</div> <div> --------------------------------------------------------</div> <div> Copyright 2000 Union-Tribune Publishing Co.</div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <div> Time: November 13, 2000</div> <bR> <div> Fifteen Years in Foster Hell</div> <bR> <bR> <div> "When you are little, you don't want people to know you are in the system, that you got taken away from your mother." - Homer Bennett, 21, just out of foster care</div> <bR> <bR> <div> Homer Bennett's birth family was far from perfect. His mom and dad paid the bills by peddling heroin and cocaine from the living room couch of their three-bedroom home on Chicago's South Side.</div> <bR> <div> The parents had a sense of decorum. In front of Homer and his brother Frankie, they would refer to the two drugs as "boy" and "girl." Homer and Frankie never learned which was which, though they knew it was dope. Once, when the police came by, the brothers hid underneath a bed, emerging to beg the cops not to take their mom and dad to jail. But it was Homer and Frankie who were eventually taken away.</div> <bR> <div> One morning, as the boys played on the sidewalk in front of their home, a car stopped shy of the curb.</div> <bR> <div> Two men in suits jumped out and grabbed them. The men dragged the brothers, screaming, into the car, then drove them to a clinic, where somebody gave them a tranquilizer shot.</div> <bR> <div> Their kidnappers were supposed to be the "good guys,"</div> <div> rescuing Homer and his brother from drug-induced squalor and neglect. Instead of entering the realm of Ninja Turtles and Popsicles, however, Homer went through a childhood of dependency-court hearings, social workers and frayed relationships. Nobody preserved his family unit. For the past 15 years he has been in foster care.</div> <bR> <div> All told, Homer Bennett has lived in 14 different foster</div> <div> homes, seldom staying in one longer than a year. At one</div> <div> point, he did get to stay with his maternal grandmother, but she was frail, elderly and unable to care for Homer and Frankie. So the brothers went back into state care, where they were separated and placed in different homes.</div> <bR> <div> Homer was sometimes beaten with belts. "We didn't know that beatings were against the rules in foster homes," he says. "We found out from another foster child." One of his foster mothers, he says, threw a knife at him, cutting his forehead, then forcing him to say he had molested another kid. "Because of foster care," he says, "I didn't really grow up anywhere." Now he's an adult, and for the first time he's facing the prospect of living on his own-a situation for which the system has never quite prepared him.</div> <bR> <div> So many kids are growing up in foster care that social</div> <div> workers are beginning to wonder about how they will survive after leaving the state's care. Studies show that former foster kids are at risk of becoming criminals, homeless or pregnant after being "emancipated" from the system, according to child-welfare experts. Until a few years ago, many kids who reached legal</div> <div> age had no help to ease the transition .</div> <bR> <div> Somebody would show up on the doorstep of their foster homes and tell them to pack their belongings in a plastic bag.</div> <bR> <div> Homer, however, maybe getting some help. A few years ago, he wound up at New Directions, an independent-living program run by Hull House in Chicago. Foster kids between the ages of 16 and 21 can rent an apartment with welfare stipends.</div> <div> "When you are little, you don't want people to know you are in the system, that you got taken away from your mother," says Homer. "When you get your apartment, then you're set."</div> <bR> <div> In the 15 years he was in foster care, his family</div> <div> disintegrated. He very rarely sees his birth mother or his brother Frankie. His father is dead. Homer, at 20, is a father himself, of an infant girl, and he says he's worried about keeping his own family together. He hopes</div> <div> to get his GED and maybe even graduate from a community college. But technically, he was a ward of the state until he turned 21 last week, when he was released. WIth so many bad things behind him, Homer says, there is only one good thing about his long trip through foster care: "Getting out."</div> <bR> <bR> <div> -By Timothy Roche. WIth reporting by Sylvester Momoel/</div> <div> Chicago</div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <div> The Crisis Of Foster Care</div> <div> BY TIMOTHY ROCHE</div> <bR> <div> The autopsy photo shows a little boy who looks relieved to be dead. His eyes are closed. A hospital tube protrudes from his broken nose. He has deep cuts above his right ear and dark linear scars on his forehead. The bruises on his back are a succession of yellows, greens and blues. On the bottom of his tiny feet are unhealed third-degree burns. He had</div> <div> been battered and tortured. He had been tied with panty hose and belts to a banister by the woman who had become his foster grandmother.</div> <bR> <div> The state of Georgia had taken him away from his mother, then abandoned him in the woman's care. Little Terrell Peterson had so many injuries that the medical examiner gave up counting them. The child was six years old. He weighed only 29 lbs.</div> <bR> <div> The foster-care system is not working in Atlanta.</div> <bR> <div> Nor is it working in Chicago, where a boy was beaten to</div> <div> death by two foster brothers who were known to be violent.</div> <div> It is not working in Bibb County, Ga., where a girl with</div> <div> cerebral palsy was placed in a home with a swimming pool; she was left unattended and drowned. And children are not protected in Dallas either. There two-year-old Joel Hernandez allegedly was beaten so severely that he had to be placed in a body cast. Yet social workers let him stay with his parents, then never set eyes on him--even after 15 visits to the family home brought no one to the door. All the social workers did was send a certified letter. Joel's body was later found in a shallow grave. His stepfather and uncle are charged with his murder.</div> <bR> <div> Untimely death is often the only occasion for the public to</div> <div> catch a glimpse of the foster-care system. But there are</div> <div> living hells, and at times you can smell the brimstone a</div> <div> long way off. At others the evils come in disguise.</div> <bR> <div> In Gillette, Wyo., Homer and Beth Griswold were pillars of the community who were asked to be foster parents. She was a psychologist, a former member of the child-protection team.</div> <div> Her specialty was identifying sexual abuse. But while Beth baked Halloween cookies upstairs, Homer was downstairs molesting two of the girls in their care.</div> <bR> <div> Had anyone spent a couple of hours checking his background, they would have found previous allegations of abuse and harassment. Homer Griswold was sent to prison, and the girls were returned to their birth parents. "They take kids away from someone like me who hasn't got an education and money, but they give them to Homer?" asks a girl's father. "Now what am I supposed to do for my baby? You know, when she</div> <div> came home, I didn't know how to hold her. I didn't know if,</div> <div> after what she'd been through, she should sit on my lap."</div> <bR> <div> Five years ago, there were about a quarter of a million</div> <div> children in the country's foster-care systems. Today that</div> <div> number has doubled, to between 550,000 and 560,000 children.</div> <div> Often these are held hostage to abuse and neglect, to</div> <div> bureaucratic foul-ups and carelessness, condemned to futures in which dreams cannot come true.</div> <bR> <div> President Clinton and Congress boast of new legislation and funding to move children more quickly from foster care to adoption. Indeed, there has been an increase in those numbers.</div> <bR> <div> Many foster parents too continue to act selflessly as</div> <div> important way stations for at-risk kids while their</div> <div> biological parents get their lives together.</div> <bR> <div> However, neglect and a quagmire of child-swallowing</div> <div> bureaucracies plague the system. And the incidence of</div> <div> neglect, physical and sexual abuse of children in the</div> <div> various foster-care systems is feared to be significantly</div> <div> higher than the incidence in the general population. Nobody bothers to keep an accurate count, but in round numbers, more than 7,500 children are tortured under what is technically government protection.</div> <bR> <div> Together with the many more who linger as long as 10 years in protective-custody systems, they are America's generation of lost children, forsaken and forgotten.</div> <bR> <div> The Department of Health and Human Services deemed its own auditing process so flawed that Secretary Donna Shalala did not protest when Congress suspended its ability to collect funds from states that did not meet federal eligibility requirements.</div> <bR> <div> State foster-care systems are in such poor shape that case files are still hard copy-bound. Without modern databases, tracking the fate of children remains a maddening paper chase.</div> <bR> <div> "These systems should be a national scandal," says Marcia Robinson Lowry, executive director of Children's Rights Inc.</div> <div> "In virtually every state, there is no accountability." Says</div> <div> Don Keenan, an Atlanta lawyer who has sued Georgia</div> <div> posthumously on behalf of children who died in foster care: "This is a meltdown. This is critical."</div> <bR> <div> It costs at least $7 billion a year, or about $13,000 a</div> <div> child, to care for America's foster kids. The problem is not a single black hole but a series--each state affected with its own distinct problems. A yearlong investigation by TIME has found the crisis mounting in at least 20 states as lawyers file class actions asking judges to take control of entire agencies and Governors to appoint task forces to review child-welfare programs. Three states in</div> <div> particular--Georgia, Alabama and California--show the</div> <div> severity of the crisis.</div> <bR> <div> SOURCE: Time Magazine, November 13. Copyright (c) 2000, Time</div> <div> Inc.</div> <bR> <div> Part Two</div> <bR> <bR> <div> GEORGIA: The Boy on the Table</div> <bR> <div> Terrell Peterson was young and black, like 50% of the</div> <div> foster-care population. He was a victim of the crack</div> <div> epidemic that spawned not only a generation of addicts but also a generation of lost children, most of whom have found their way into the foster-care system. His mother was addicted to crack. He had two siblings with different</div> <div> fathers. The state opened eight files on his family in five</div> <div> years, and 21 different caseworkers from five offices were involved in the cases. Social workers, faithful to a policy trend of placing kids with family members, sent Terrell to the home of a woman who was the paternal grandmother of one of his siblings. Technically she was not a blood relative, but she was close enough.</div> <bR> <div> Then they apparently closed his case file and forgot about him. "Terrell Peterson should not have happened," says Georgia Governor Roy Barnes. Earlier this year, he ordered a sweeping criminal investigation into the suspicious deaths of Terrell and 12 other foster children around the state.</div> <div> The boy's foster grandmother, Pharina Peterson, has been charged with murder, along with his foster aunt Terri Lynn Peterson and her boyfriend, Calvin Pittman. The Georgia bureau of investigation has spent much of this year trying to determine whether the negligence of social workers made them accomplices in the children's deaths. Bureau agents seized more than 30,000 documents last January when raiding</div> <div> state welfare offices to investigate the deaths. They</div> <div> believe some files may have been conveniently lost or</div> <div> perhaps pilfered by people with secrets to hide.</div> <bR> <div> The stories of the children and their deaths fill seven</div> <div> cardboard boxes. Among the dead is Octavious Sims, whose family's suspected negligence had been reported over and over to social workers before he was starved, immersed in boiling water and beaten to death three days before his first birthday. Another is Raymond Ellis, 16, paralyzed in a car accident as a toddler and in need of constant care. For years doctors had begged caseworkers to remove him from his</div> <div> mother's care. No one did. Raymond died of a preventable infection and pneumonia.</div> <bR> <div> The files, obtained by TIME, show a pattern of inadequate monitoring, poor record keeping and bad decisions. In the case of Terrell, the records show that social workers skipped home visits, missed a crucial court hearing and lied in reports that supervisors signed but did not read.</div> <bR> <div> As appalling as is Terrell's death, the fact is that Georgia</div> <div> took steps years ago to keep such a tragedy from happening.</div> <div> After the death of a little girl named Kathy Joe in 1997,</div> <div> Georgia lawmakers vowed reform. Panic over foster care produced regulations designed to save children's lives.</div> <div> Until Terrell's death, however, no one had checked to make sure the changes were enforced. "I am not here to defend this system," says Barnes, who this year pushed for a children's ombudsman and laws to increase caseworker accountability. "We have not made this a high enough priority."</div> <bR> <div> ALABAMA: The Perils of Politics</div> <div> CASE David Dohilite</div> <div> AGE 15 years</div> <div> DESCRIPTION The rebellious and defiant David, shown with his parents above, was taken by child welfare officials to Eufala Adolescent Center. He returned with severe brain damage</div> <div> The state system still suffers from a decade of intervention by former Governor Fob James, a wily if obtuse politician of the old school, adept at surviving by switching parties and baiting voters. In 1988, riding a tide of states' rights fervor, he appointed a friend, Martha Nachman, as welfare commissioner, with a mandate to ignore federal court-imposed guidelines on foster care. The mammoth state agency quickly</div> <div> deteriorated.</div> <bR> <div> Until then, Alabama had been in the forefront of foster-care reform. It had been set on that path after an incident in which local social workers used an unpaid utility bill to</div> <div> prove a man was unfit to raise his eight-year-old son,</div> <div> removed the child and placed him not in a foster home but in a psychiatric hospital, where the boy was isolated and heavily dosed with psychoactive drugs. The American Civil Liberties Union filed a federal lawsuit on the father's behalf. As a result, the federal court not only remanded the boy to his father but ordered far-ranging changes in the system.</div> <bR> <div> At that point, caseworkers did not even know which services might be available for children. They had no way of comparing notes or logging resources. They had no flexibility in meeting individual needs. They had no</div> <div> guidelines for contact between children in foster care and their birth parents. In most cases, the rules simply forbade it.</div> <bR> <div> Following the federal ruling, social workers set out to</div> <div> retrain, refocus and reshape the welfare system county by county, inspiring a hands-on, more heartfelt attitude among hardened social workers and abuse investigators. Greater emphasis was placed on restrengthening and rebuilding families by setting up programs in their own neighborhoods and communities in order to lessen the disruption of children's lives. The average stay in foster care dropped from 14 months to three. Alabama, though a rural state in the American South, won early praise for its progressive</div> <div> ideas and was considered a potential model for national</div> <div> reform.</div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <div> WHEN THE SYSTEM WORKS</div> <div> CASE: Shawna Mitchell</div> <bR> <div> She was reunited with her four kids after working with</div> <div> foster mom Norma Shaw, right, in Chicago</div> <bR> <div> The director's replacement was no improvement. Although she promised a zeal for children, she also allegedly had a zeal to spend money. Even as children in the agency's care couldn't get dental exams and foster parents couldn't get first-aid training, Grace Home was spending $250,000 in foster-care funds to defend a sexual-harassment suit and gave an additional $130,000 to a board member. The books</div> <div> listed $6,725 in Toys "R" Us gift certificates with no</div> <div> receipt.</div> <bR> <div> The new director gave herself nearly $10,000 for a</div> <div> retroactive pay raise, car payments and bonuses. The</div> <div> findings were released by auditors in July 1999, a month</div> <div> after Gilbreania was beaten to death. Grace Home finally went out of business.</div> <bR> <div> "A brutal indifference has spread itself through the</div> <div> system," says Andrew Bridge, a former foster child in Los Angeles who went to Harvard Law School and now heads the Alliance for Children's Rights. He chaired a countywide panel that reviewed the state's foster-care record. Last January it concluded that the system in Los Angeles County operates with minimal data on its wards and a safety-monitoring process that is random at best. Some departments are not aware of what others are doing, so a child's safety often relies on guesswork. "Fundamentally," says Bridge, 34, "we've come a very small distance from the days when I was in foster care." In short, he adds, Los Angeles County lacks the ability to know the full nature of the quality of care foster children actually receive, "the full extent of harm children may face in foster care and how to protect children from harm in the future."</div> <bR> <div> The foster-care crisis is a many-headed behemoth, and no single weapon has been able to defeat it. "There are so many actors involved in the decision of what happens to the children," says Secretary Shalala. "Different people have responsibility for taking them away from their family.</div> <div> Another group of people is responsible for placing them."</div> <div> Last year the General Accounting Office issued a report on juvenile courts, finding that judges and caseworkers do not work well together. Many judges mistrust the judgment of caseworkers and order additional assessments "to compensate for what the judges perceive as professional inadequacies."</div> <bR> <div> The chief evil, though, may be decentralization. While the</div> <div> Federal Government doles out most of the funding, the</div> <div> welfare of children has traditionally been a state matter.</div> <div> In fact, many states see it as such a local issue that they</div> <div> pass down the decision making to individual counties. The result has been unwieldy systems that are grossly</div> <div> mismanaged. Fearing that they may create bloated</div> <div> bureaucracies, the states usually earmark the money for the direct care of kids, meaning monthly payments to foster parents and salaries for social workers. In so doing, they neglect the infrastructure. There are not enough computers, secretaries and clerks to do the cheap paper work that consumes social workers' time. There are not enough administrators to review the cases or think outside the box about creative solutions. "We've grown accustomed to allowing the critical function of caring for children to take place in an abysmal business setting," says Anita Bock, recently hired to head the welfare agency in Los Angeles. "I'm a fiscal conservative. I'm not interested in throwing money at the system. I'm saying give me some flexibility."</div> <bR> <div> But there is no flexibility because the system is stretched</div> <div> to its limit. Some agencies have become so desperate to place children that any bed will do. Kids are being sent to foster homes with no forethought, and the states cannot guarantee their safety. Furthermore, the number of kids needing foster care is exceeding the number of families available to care for them. Even the most devoted of foster parents are dropping out of the programs, frustrated at times by a lack of support--as well as legal roadblocks to adopting the children if they so choose.</div> <bR> <div> Meanwhile, the annual turnover of social workers hovers as high as 70% in some states. "You can't even run a Burger King with a 70% turnover," says Howard Talenfeld, a Florida lawyer. Social workers have always been undertrained, exhausted and second-guessed--so much so that some have turned to a negative kind of creativity. In Milwaukee, for example, social workers don't answer the phone when their</div> <div> caseloads are full. In other places, they simply stop</div> <div> visiting homes where some children are known to be abused because death doesn't seem imminent. They take advantage of recently implemented policies that allow them to "waiver" a family. This means they fill out a report that says the kids</div> <div> look fine--and their supervisors usually take their word for it. Multiply this state by state and county by county, and the children barely stand a chance.</div> <bR> <bR> <div> TIME INVESTIGATION</div> <div> NOVEMBER 13, 2000 VOL. 156 NO. 20</div> <bR> <div> Part 5.</div> <bR> <div> Ten years ago, the House Select Committee on Children blamed "weak federal oversight" for the "extraordinary failings" of the foster-care system. It has taken the better part of a decade to finalize the monitoring rules that will guide the states in implementing all the new laws that have followed.</div> <div> Shalala, talking about the long wait, says, "We were not</div> <div> after the quick political hit here. This is not a spin</div> <div> operation. This is a very sophisticated, thoughtful set of</div> <div> regulations that are realistic for the states." Her</div> <div> department, nevertheless, missed congressional deadlines to revamp the child welfare-monitoring system by two years. The ostensible reason: it wanted to produce thoughtful social policy that would lead to the "most sweeping reform of foster care in 20 years."</div> <bR> <div> Despite everything, people have managed to emerge from the foster-care system to become pillars of society. In January a 23-month-old girl in Washington was beaten to death after a judge remanded her, despite inadequate paper work, to her mother's care. The case so affected Washington's reformist mayor, Anthony Williams, that he broke from his prepared text in his State of the District speech in March to reflect on his own life in foster care in California, where he lived untended, given up to a life of supposed mental retardation until he was adopted at the age of three. "Experts told my mother I would never make it." He did, but he has the scars</div> <div> to prove it: a crooked smile and an asymmetric head that he</div> <div> believes came from not being turned in his bed or held in an adult's arms.</div> <bR> <div> It is the sad legacy of foster care that more children than</div> <div> ever continue to be terribly, terribly scarred.</div> <bR> <div> --WITH REPORTING BY MELISSA AUGUST/WASHINGTON, JULIE</div> <div> GRACE/CHICAGO, MAUREEN HARRINGTON/GILLETTE, HILARY</div> <div> HYLTON/AUSTIN, SYLVESTER MONROE/DAYTONA BEACH AND JAMES</div> <div> WILLWERTH/LOS ANGELES</div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <div> A Florida judge asks the most important question of all:</div> <bR> <div> "What happens when the child's interest is different and in conflict with the state?" the judge asked. "Who will protect those children?"</div> <bR> <bR> <div> Judge forced off abuse case by agency</div> <bR> <div> By SALLY KESTIN</div> <bR> <div> A judge who sparked an investigation of a Sunrise center for</div> <div> emotionally disturbed youths after observing what she</div> <div> described as abuse will no longer preside over the case.</div> <bR> <div> The Department of Children & Families succeeded in removing</div> <div> Broward County Judge Ginger Lerner-Wren from the</div> <div> controversial case on Monday.</div> <bR> <div> Lawyers for the state said the judge became a witness when</div> <div> she saw a worker at the Brown Schools of Florida twist a</div> <div> child's arm during a visit earlier this month.</div> <bR> <div> But the judge suggested the state's motive was "nothing more</div> <div> than an attempt to chill and silence further inquiry of this</div> <div> court." The judge also had harsh words for the state's</div> <div> treatment of foster children with disabilities. Brown houses</div> <div> 30 adolescents with psychiatric and emotional problems.</div> <bR> <div> "This court has been shocked at the complete disregard for</div> <div> and complete lack of knowledge as to the legal rights of ...</div> <div> children with mental health and emotional disorders," she</div> <div> said.</div> <bR> <div> The battle began earlier this month when the judge received</div> <div> a report that a teen under her jurisdiction had been</div> <div> restrained at Brown. The teen has cerebral palsy and wears</div> <div> leg braces.</div> <bR> <div> The judge visited Brown to check on the teen. While there,</div> <div> she saw a worker twist the arm of another child, who is not</div> <div> under her jurisdiction.</div> <bR> <div> The judge reported the incident to the state child-abuse</div> <div> hotline and appointed lawyer Fred Goldstein to conduct an</div> <div> independent investigation of Brown.</div> <bR> <div> The Department of Children & Families objected.</div> <bR> <div> "Judge Lerner-Wren testified from the bench as to the facts</div> <div> as she saw them," said Paul Hancock of the Attorney</div> <div> General's Office, which represents the social services</div> <div> agency. "In doing this, she became a witness instead of a</div> <div> judge."</div> <bR> <div> Lerner-Wren called the state's allegations "completely</div> <div> false" and said the move was "an affront to the independence</div> <div> of the judiciary." She had twice refused to step down but</div> <div> finally granted the state's request on Monday.</div> <bR> <div> The social services agency also has asked Lerner-Wren to no</div> <div> longer preside over the cases of other children at Brown.</div> <div> And the state may challenge her appointment of Goldstein,</div> <div> who so far has raised concerns about the use of restraints</div> <div> and the lack of qualifications of some staff at Brown.</div> <bR> <div> "We don't question Judge Wren's dedication to children,"</div> <div> Hancock said.</div> <bR> <div> "As far as running (DCF) and doing investigations, that's</div> <div> the job of (DCF chief Kathleen Kearney)."</div> <bR> <div> Kearney last week created a state task force to investigate</div> <div> Brown. But some child advocates are skeptical.</div> <bR> <div> "It is not my experience that Secretary Kearney is getting</div> <div> complete information, that investigators from the department</div> <div> have the objectivity or the expertise to do a full and fair</div> <div> investigation," said Andrea Moore, a lawyer for foster</div> <div> children, including several at Brown. "I'm concerned this</div> <div> court and all other judges will be more reluctant to assume</div> <div> the watchdog role, to ask the questions," Moore said.</div> <bR> <div> Lerner-Wren said she is concerned about the precedent the</div> <div> state has set.</div> <bR> <div> "What happens when the child's interest is different and in</div> <div> conflict with the state?" the judge asked. "Who will protect</div> <div> those children?"</div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <div> Hartford-WTNH, Nov. 8, 2000 6:50 PM) _ Some Department of</div> <div> Children and Families workers were disciplined in connection</div> <div> with the death of 3-year-old Alex Boucher.</div> <bR> <div> After admitting mistakes, the state Department of Children</div> <div> and Families has completed their internal review.</div> <bR> <div> News Channel 8's Kristina Boisoneau reports.Its been over a</div> <div> month since 3-year-old Alex Boucher tragically died in the</div> <div> Florida home where he was to be adopted.</div> <bR> <div> His father-to-be, 25-year-old James Curtis, is accused of</div> <div> killing him by wrapping him in a blanket so tight he</div> <div> suffocated.</div> <div> The Connecticut agency that was responsible or Alex has</div> <div> admitted mistakes and is handing down punishments.</div> <bR> <div> Department of Children and Families Commissioner Kristine</div> <div> Regaglia says,"While the staff involved in Alex's case made</div> <div> decisions they believed was in his best interest, they made</div> <div> a poor judgement call sending him to Florida."</div> <bR> <div> Regaglia said they have learned several painful lessons from</div> <div> this incident after a month long internal review.</div> <bR> <div> The DCF reviewed 3 things. First, they reviewed what</div> <div> happened. Second, they reviewed whether disciplinary action</div> <div> is necessary and third, they looked at all the Connecticut</div> <div> children who have been placed out of state.</div> <bR> <div> The outcome was that DCF says they need to reinforce and</div> <div> revise procedures.</div> <bR> <div> They found that all of their 926 children who are out of</div> <div> state are safe. They also disciplined four staff members in</div> <div> connection with Alex's case.</div> <bR> <div> Regaglia says there were several procedural steps that were</div> <div> skipped over.</div> <bR> <div> "Our policies call for a team meeting, but one was not held.</div> <div> This team meeting would have brought together all of the key</div> <div> players to discuss Alex's situation, present a plan and</div> <div> evaluate risks inherent to the plan," says Regaglia.</div> <bR> <div> This doesn't shut the book on this case. A child fatality</div> <div> review board is still investigating the tragedy.</div> <bR> <div> Two supervisors on the case will be suspended without pay</div> <div> for one week. The supervisor of the Interstate Compact</div> <div> Office, which handles placements in other states, received a</div> <div> one-day suspension without pay. The punishment against the</div> <div> social worker has not been determined.</div> <bR> <div> DCF says experience and record of service were taken into</div> <div> account for each employee disciplined.</div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <div> SOURCE: The Local Planet</div> <div> Newspaper in Washington</div> <div> Online edition:</div> <div> http://www.thelocalplanet.com/story.asp?ArticleID={EE468DC4-</div> <div> 0A72-46ED-8855-D73DA1286C64}</div> <bR> <bR> <div> Of blood and tears: The adoption debate</div> <div> by Paulette Burgess</div> <bR> <div> I'll come clean now. This is a difficult story to write.</div> <div> Remaining unbiased is the biggest challenge. Ten years ago I</div> <div> was 20-years-old, in college, living with my boyfriend, and</div> <div> five months pregnant. After the initial shock and fear, the</div> <div> obligatory arguments over abortion (he pleaded; I refused),</div> <div> all that seemed left for us was adoption and our growing</div> <div> frustration with one another.</div> <bR> <div> On November 3 at the E Gallery in downtown Spokane, there</div> <div> will be a dinner featuring anti-adoption speakers Christina</div> <div> Crawford and Sandy Musser. Crawford is the adopted daughter</div> <div> of Joan Crawford. After Crawford's death, Christina wrote</div> <div> Mommy Dearest, a sad biography of a little, pretty, blonde</div> <div> girl who is adopted by an emotionally and physically abusive</div> <div> Hollywood star. Musser has been involved with adoption</div> <div> reform since 1976, and after 17 years of reform work was</div> <div> indicted by the government for "conspiracy to defraud the</div> <div> government of confidential information" relating to her</div> <div> handling of sealed adoption records. She spent two months in</div> <div> federal prison, two months under house arrest, and three</div> <div> years under probation. She is the author of numerous books</div> <div> on adoption, which is something she knows first hand: at age</div> <div> fifteen she gave birth to a girl and gave her up for</div> <div> adoption.</div> <bR> <div> The dinner promises to be very emotional and thought</div> <div> provoking.</div> <bR> <div> Unplanned pregnancies are rarely, if ever, "easy."</div> <bR> <div> One evening, standing together in the hallway, waiting for</div> <div> our other housemate to clear the bathroom, my boyfriend</div> <div> asked, "You're not going to give this baby up for adoption,</div> <div> are you?" I paused, tried to think about repercussions and</div> <div> decided on the truth. "No, I'm not." His sigh was</div> <div> interminably long.</div> <bR> <div> "Maybe I should move out," I offered.</div> <bR> <div> "Maybe you should," was his response. He then gave me a big</div> <div> hug that basically seemed to say, "I'm sorry, I'm only 19</div> <div> and I don't want this, and I just can't handle it."</div> <bR> <div> Mark Spaur is a volunteer director for the non-profit</div> <div> adoption agency Open Adoption & Family Services, Inc., based</div> <div> in Portland, Oregon (www.openadopt.com). He is also an</div> <div> adoptive father of a two-year old girl.</div> <bR> <div> "At the heart of every adoption there is a tragedy. Life</div> <div> would be wonderful if all birth mothers could keep their</div> <div> children and raise them in a happy, safe, two-parent home,</div> <div> but that's not reality. Another fact is that one in six</div> <div> couples experiences infertility." Spaur also says that the</div> <div> average age of birth mothers using the agency's services is</div> <div> twenty-one, twenty-two; although, his daughter's birthmother</div> <div> was 25. "It was a very tough thing. A gift of life (the</div> <div> birthmother) gave to us. It was an act of grace, for there</div> <div> was nothing I had ever done in my life that would make me</div> <div> worthy of this gift." Spaur's voice, heard over the</div> <div> telephone line, breaks. He is clearly overcome. I can hear</div> <div> his daughter's sing-song talking in the background. "Grace</div> <div> also implies something extraordinary. When she gave her</div> <div> child to us it was a gift beyond all other gifts, an act</div> <div> that was so gracious."</div> <bR> <div> The next evening, my twenty-first birthday, I got into my</div> <div> car, drove up from Northern California, through Oregon and</div> <div> towards my mother's house. Halfway across the Gorge, I</div> <div> finally gave in to my tears, self-pity, and raging hormones</div> <div> and bought a pack of cigarettes; I hadn't smoked in two</div> <div> months, and I was desperate for comfort. I smoked three</div> <div> Camel Lights in a row, pulled over before connecting to the</div> <div> 385, and tried to throw up. The cigarettes made me sick to</div> <div> my stomach but oddly centered at the same time.</div> <bR> <div> Kay Russell arranged the dinner and the art show, which runs</div> <div> during the month of November at the E Gallery. Thirty-one</div> <div> years ago, when Russell was seventeen, she gave up her</div> <div> infant daughter. It was an "open" adoption in that she knew</div> <div> the adoptive parents. They were friends of her mother. "Good</div> <div> women just didn't have babies out of wedlock." Her mother</div> <div> was willing to help her raise her daughter, but Russell says</div> <div> the shame was just too great. The doctor and nurses wouldn't</div> <div> let her hold the baby, and at first didn't even want to tell</div> <div> her if it was a boy or a girl. Russell assumes it was</div> <div> because they were afraid she would change her mind if she</div> <div> bonded with her daughter. Russell went on to have and raise</div> <div> more children, but four years ago started grieving over the</div> <div> loss of her daughter, similar to post-traumatic stress</div> <div> syndrome.</div> <bR> <div> I arrived in Spokane on Thanksgiving Day, 1990. As a joke,</div> <div> my older sister took me to the Baby Bar for a Diet Coke that</div> <div> evening. All I could do was obsess over my unborn son's</div> <div> father. I already missed him so much. He wrote and called</div> <div> often, and his pleas for an adoption rarely ceased. "We are</div> <div> such a good couple; we'll be great parents someday, when</div> <div> we're older and ready. How will you finish college? I love</div> <div> you so much; I'm just not ready to be a father."</div> <bR> <div> Holly Cotton explains how her grandson was recently</div> <div> "kidnapped." The story is long, sordid, but a bare</div> <div> recitation of the facts follows. Her son was 17 and his</div> <div> girlfriend 14 when they found out about the pregnancy. Child</div> <div> Protection Services eventually got involved; in the</div> <div> meantime, her son and his girlfriend visited a local open</div> <div> adoption agency. When her son started changing his mind,</div> <div> CPS, the adoption agency, the Guardian ad litems and all</div> <div> other concerned members of the social and judicial systems</div> <div> said he would be charged with statutory rape if he didn't</div> <div> sign the adoption papers. After the birth, both birthparents</div> <div> went to court to revoke consent for adoption. The</div> <div> birthfather was again threatened with statutory rape, this</div> <div> time by his own court-appointed attorney.</div> <bR> <div> The Attorney General's Office is investigating the matter,</div> <div> and litigation may soon be underway. But the situation</div> <div> points out how desperate, infertile, older couples will</div> <div> adopt a child despite knowing the birthparents really want</div> <div> their child. And one would be naïve to think that class bias</div> <div> and elitism don't come into play. Rarely are rich children</div> <div> removed from their homes; yet, statistically, as reported by</div> <div> the director for the YWCA to the City Council on October 16,</div> <div> poverty is not an indicator of child neglect or abuse.</div> <bR> <div> "The baby just becomes an accoutrement to their lifestyle,"</div> <div> says Cotton. "First they want the good jobs, the nice house</div> <div> and cars, and now they're ready for the baby, except they've</div> <div> waited too long. ... It's not the obligation of young, poor,</div> <div> birth mothers to fill the cradles of infertile yuppies,"</div> <div> Cotton says vehemently.</div> <bR> <div> She points out that a 1997 federal law, Adoption and Safe</div> <div> Families Act (ASFA), monetarily rewards and punishes states</div> <div> in order to encourage the adoption of children who are in</div> <div> foster care. Adoptive parents also receive financial</div> <div> incentives. The law was intended to end the atrocity of</div> <div> children languishing in foster care for most of their</div> <div> childhoods and to encourage the adoption of older, less</div> <div> "adoptable" kids.</div> <bR> <div> Living alone at EWU's "Married Student Court," life revolved</div> <div> around classes, the library and trips to the super market at</div> <div> night, so I wouldn't run into anyone seeing me pay for</div> <div> groceries with food stamps. Every time the self-pity and</div> <div> hormones would overwhelm me, I'd sneak a drag off a</div> <div> half-smoked cigarette. Instantly, the nicotine would calm my</div> <div> nerves. I'd then put it out, and hope to get by for another</div> <div> five hours without a drag. I promised this to my doctor.</div> <bR> <div> CPS Watch, a group with an admitted anti-adoption bias,</div> <div> explains at its website (www.cpswatch.com), "The public is</div> <div> under the impression that children are removed from their</div> <div> families only in cases of severe and life-threatening abuse</div> <div> or neglect. Based on data submitted to the federal</div> <div> government by state child protective service agencies, TCB</div> <div> Chronicles reported that "18% of the children placed in</div> <div> foster care during 1998 were taken from homes where</div> <div> investigators had determined allegations of child abuse or</div> <div> neglect were unfounded." Kansas, Pennsylvania and New Jersey</div> <div> had 43% of foster care placements in 1998 "come from</div> <div> families where the CPS workers unsubstantiated allegations</div> <div> of child mistreatment."</div> <bR> <div> I couldn't wait for my son's birth; I dreamed about him</div> <div> nightly. Sometimes he'd be a baby, sometimes a little boy,</div> <div> but always my son. I somehow knew he'd have blonde hair and</div> <div> brown eyes. But during the day I pined for his father.</div> <div> Seeing happy couples with their children would throw me into</div> <div> despair. How could my son get by without a father? Would he</div> <div> grow up aggressive, lost, turn to drugs?</div> <bR> <div> Shari, with Washington Adoption Rights Movement (WARM</div> <div> www.wolfenet.com/warm), says the secrecy surrounding</div> <div> adoption is a real problem. She points out that almost all</div> <div> states allow for "closed" adoptions, and Washington still</div> <div> seals birth records. We do have a confidential intermediary</div> <div> process, whereby both adoptee and birthparent can sign up.</div> <div> But some birth parents don't want to be contacted, as was</div> <div> the case in Tennessee. Denny Glad was part of the movement</div> <div> to unseal birth records in Tennessee. Her group won, but an</div> <div> injunction was filed immediately by birthparents and</div> <div> adoption agencies arguing that it violated the right to</div> <div> reproductive privacy. (See 106 F.3d 703 (6th Cir. 1997). For</div> <div> a complete state-by-state listing of the law regarding</div> <div> access to adoption records, see</div> <div> www.bastards.org/activism/access.htm.</div> <bR> <div> Arguments favoring adoption are undeniable. Some people are</div> <div> simply unable to care for their children. And, incredibly,</div> <div> others just don't want to care for their children.</div> <bR> <div> Pregnancy produces a peculiar type of narcissism, which was</div> <div> all the more pronounced because I was convinced I was the</div> <div> only woman whose child's father had pleaded for her to get</div> <div> rid of the baby. I felt guilty, as if this pregnancy was</div> <div> entirely my own doing. About two or three times I called up</div> <div> local adoption agencies, just feeling things out, just</div> <div> reminding myself I had options, all the while knowing I</div> <div> simply couldn't exercise those options. I'd be a single</div> <div> parent, and my kid might be scorned, and sure, I might not</div> <div> ever finish college, but something animal was building in</div> <div> me. I was beginning to understand that I would rather die</div> <div> fighting than allow someone to hurt or take away my unborn</div> <div> child.</div> <bR> <div> It's hard for me to understand how anyone, such as Holly</div> <div> Cotton's son, could feel coerced into signing away his</div> <div> parental rights. And it is equally hard for me to understand</div> <div> how an adoptive couple could hold onto a baby, knowing the</div> <div> birthparents have changed their minds. Recall the awfulness</div> <div> of the famed Baby Jessica debate that dragged out for over</div> <div> two years between Michigan and Iowa. I am biased in this</div> <div> sense and in others.</div> <bR> <div> After a typical 18-hour labor, my son finally nudged out of</div> <div> his warm, dark world. My sister was there, as was my mother,</div> <div> three nurses (two of whom just came in to look because "this</div> <div> is our favorite part") and the doctor. They put Lincoln</div> <div> beside me and let me cut the umbilical cord. It was</div> <div> surprisingly thick and ropey, difficult to cut. He wasn't</div> <div> even crying. We just looked at each other and in that</div> <div> instant I memorized his face. How could I ever have even</div> <div> entertained the notion of giving this child away? He and I,</div> <div> together, would conquer the world. Nothing was impossible.</div> <div> No one could love him the way I loved him at that instant.</div> <bR> <div> For months afterward I held out hope that my son's "father"</div> <div> would eventually come around and see the error of his</div> <div> attitude. Once he saw his son in person, he'd be pleading to</div> <div> help raise him. But that didn't happen. Ten months later,</div> <div> sick of pining and hoping, I started dating again. Right</div> <div> before Lincoln turned one, I met a wonderful man who was</div> <div> studying for his master's degree at Eastern in the same</div> <div> department I was earning my bachelor's. For whatever reason,</div> <div> maybe an inborn need to nurture, maybe because of his</div> <div> affection for me, perhaps that heavenly "Grace" Spaur</div> <div> mentioned, this man fell in love with my son. Their bonding</div> <div> was instantaneous. The same swirling and overpowering</div> <div> emotions I always thought of as mine by parental birthright</div> <div> easily became his. A fierce protectiveness, an unconditional</div> <div> love, and of course the absolutely unshakable conviction</div> <div> that Lincoln is the smartest kid in his class, all of this</div> <div> has never ceased. There has never been a question who</div> <div> Lincoln's daddy is.</div> <bR> <div> But there is no blood running between them. And according to</div> <div> the anti-adoption movement, their relationship is an</div> <div> aberration of nature. Someday Lincoln will inevitably need</div> <div> to know his "REAL" father, right? Lincoln does see his</div> <div> birthparent every few months, and his affection for him is</div> <div> easygoing and uncontrived. But Lincoln has two parents, his</div> <div> birth mother; and his daddy, who happens to be his "adoptive</div> <div> father."</div> <bR> <div> So who is right?</div> <bR> <div> See, I told you this was a difficult story to write.</div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <div> Paulette Burgess practiced family law for three years in</div> <div> Memphis, Tennessee, and believes that no one article could</div> <div> possibly sum up the complexity of parent-child</div> <div> relationships, birth, step, nor adoptive. Folks should make</div> <div> an effort to attend the dinner at the E Gallery, November 3,</div> <div> at 6 p.m. Tickets are $40 per person. The E Gallery is</div> <div> located at 410 W. Sprague, Spokane. Kay Russell can be</div> <div> reached at 509.325.6698.</div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <div> SOURCE: Stuart News, Florida.</div> <bR> <div> Did DCF place child in harm's way?</div> <div> November 15, 2000</div> <bR> <div> ByNancy Smith</div> <div> News Associate Editor</div> <bR> <div> Ryan Moore wanted to believe the Department of Children and</div> <div> Families had the best in terest of Florida's children at</div> <div> heart.</div> <bR> <div> After all, he was part of the system -- he was a</div> <div> psychologist and counselor who had evaluated perhaps</div> <div> hundreds of DCF clients in his Stuart office during the past</div> <div> four years.</div> <bR> <div> That was in May, before a bad marriage got worse.</div> <bR> <div> Before his wife reported that he had sexually abused their</div> <div> 18-month-old daughter. (DCF promptly dropped the case for</div> <div> lack of substantiation, according to agency records, and his</div> <div> wife recanted.)</div> <bR> <div> Before two incidents in which Sheriff's deputies arrested</div> <div> Moore, first on charges of domestic violence, then sexual</div> <div> battery.</div> <bR> <div> Most important, Moore claims, it was before a DCF case</div> <div> worker brought a total stranger into his house, placing his</div> <div> baby in a life-threatening situation.</div> <bR> <div> "I'm beside myself over this," said Moore, 50. "I can't</div> <div> understand how a state agency could allow this to happen. I</div> <div> wouldn't put my child in this kind of danger, how can they?"</div> <bR> <div> His wife, Donna Ann Moore, has written a notarized letter</div> <div> for the record, a "to whom it may concern" affadavit,</div> <div> claiming neither arrest charge was warranted and neither</div> <div> should have ended in her husband's arrest. She said she</div> <div> "repeatedly" told deputies she didn't want her husband put</div> <div> in jail.</div> <bR> <div> "I didn't want to go to the woman's shelter and I didn't</div> <div> want to take out an injunction against my husband," Donna</div> <div> Ann Moore said in the notarized letter.</div> <bR> <div> But after the second arrest Ryan Moore was court-ordered to</div> <div> stay away from his wife and child as part of an injunction</div> <div> his wife sought.</div> <bR> <div> "At first I thought 'OK, they just have the best interest of</div> <div> our daughter Caroline at heart,'" he said. "But then I began</div> <div> to see that for DCF Caroline was very much a secondary</div> <div> consideration."</div> <bR> <div> Despite their marital problems, the Moores steadfastly agree</div> <div> on one point -- DCF caseworker Cymantha Bryce overreacted</div> <div> after the second arrest incident on Aug. 28, when the state</div> <div> pressed additional charges.</div> <bR> <div> In the notarized letter, she said, "Mrs. Cymantha Bryce ...</div> <div> through threats and coercion, made me take out the domestic</div> <div> violence injunction and threatened and coerced me on an</div> <div> ongoing basis to go get more felony charges against my</div> <div> husband.</div> <bR> <div> Unfortunately, Betty Robinson, public relations official for</div> <div> DCF, has said Bryce cannot comment on any aspect of the</div> <div> case.</div> <bR> <div> "I was already scared, traumatized by feeling as though</div> <div> (Bryce) had control over my life and the life of my</div> <div> daughter." But then, Donna Ann Moore said in the letter, it</div> <div> got worse.</div> <bR> <div> "(Bryce) moved in a family against my will that was so</div> <div> dangerous I couldn't even comprehend what was happening,"</div> <div> she said. "Cymantha Bryce forced me to live with a woman who</div> <div> was being stalked and hunted by a homicidal, domestically</div> <div> dangerous, violent man ... The child in the family I was</div> <div> forced to live with has tuberculosis.</div> <bR> <div> "Tuberculosis," she said. "My child and I will have to be</div> <div> tested to see if we must suffer the effects of getting this</div> <div> disease we were exposed to through being forced to live in</div> <div> the same house -- sleep there, eat there, and interact in</div> <div> close quarters ...</div> <bR> <div> Why would DCF force a family to move into your house? Donna</div> <div> Ann Moore said in the letter she was led to believe her new</div> <div> housemates also were DCF clients, and that they were</div> <div> "hiding" in the Moores' house.</div> <bR> <div> "I could not protect my daughter from this since Mrs. Bryce</div> <div> had so completely taken over control of my life that she</div> <div> could use her power to take my daughter away," the letter</div> <div> states. "Mrs. Bryce threatened me constantly, but the threat</div> <div> that was extremely frightening was that I must 'do it or</div> <div> never see (my baby) Caroline again.'"</div> <bR> <div> Fearing Cymantha Bryce's next move, fearing further exposure</div> <div> to tuberculosis, a disease the Centers for Disease Control</div> <div> describe as "highly contagious," Donna Ann Moore said in a</div> <div> telephone interview that she and her mother-in-law had taken</div> <div> the baby out of state.</div> <bR> <div> Ryan Moore said he's at his wit's end. He has mounting legal</div> <div> bills, a house in Palm City he claims "will never be</div> <div> disease-free," loss of his professional reputation -- and no</div> <div> idea when he'll see his daughter again.</div> <bR> <div> DCF's Betty Robinson said that "for confidentiality</div> <div> reasons," she too was unable to comment on Bryce's actions,</div> <div> the possibility of tuberculosis or the fate of 2-year-old</div> <div> Caroline Moore.</div> <bR> <div> "To get the family out, I changed the locks and had the</div> <div> power and phones turned off," Ryan Moore said. "But they</div> <div> broke back in claiming they were renting the house. From</div> <div> whom? They couldn't have rented it because they didn 't rent</div> <div> it from me and the house is solely in my name. Would you</div> <div> believe,</div> <div> someone -- DCF assuming legal authority? -- had the power</div> <div> and phones turned back on anyway."</div> <bR> <div> Said Moore's colleague, psychotherapist Rosemary Wolff, "The</div> <div> only thing Ryan ever did wrong was to marry the wrong</div> <div> person. His life is in a thousand pieces -- this is what DCF</div> <div> can do."</div> <bR> <div> Nancy Smith can be contacted by telephone at (561) 221-4238,</div> <div> or by e-mail to smith@stuartnews.com. Her columns are</div> <div> archived on the News' website, TCPalm.com</div> <bR> <div> SOURCE:Stuart News, Florida.</div> <bR> <div> Good for Smith; DCF eventually must reply</div> <div> November 16, 2000</div> <bR> <div> Editor:</div> <bR> <div> In reference to Vern Melvin's Nov. 12 commentary on the</div> <div> Department of Children and Families' constraints about</div> <div> divulging confidential information by law: Confidentiality</div> <div> was intended by legislation to protect families and</div> <div> children, not DCF, a taxpayer-funded state agency, and DCF's</div> <div> employees, from illegal actions, fraud, deceit, and</div> <div> intimidation leveled at families to which they render</div> <div> services.</div> <bR> <div> The articles Mrs. (Associate Editor Nancy) Smith has been</div> <div> writing are enlightening and cite blatant abuse of power by</div> <div> this agency. I think that is where our focus should lie. No</div> <div> caring person could argue the good intention of DCF's</div> <div> mission, but you know what they say about intentions. Mrs.</div> <div> Smith's articles are talking about unnecessary government</div> <div> intrusion into personal lives, where no danger existed. When</div> <div> someone objected and protested DCF's action, retaliation</div> <div> ensued.</div> <bR> <div> Is this what we can expect from DCF? If there is a problem</div> <div> and DCF has done something wrong, it simply cites</div> <div> confidentiality. There is no accountability. Officials</div> <div> certainly don't tell on themselves! DCF has "specific</div> <div> authority" over children that in some cases may override a</div> <div> judicial decision.</div> <bR> <div> At some point we must interview and listen to the families</div> <div> affected by all of these "services" -- without the families</div> <div> fearing repercussion for "whistle blowing." We can then see</div> <div> how many success stories there really are.</div> <bR> <div> Citizens are left to wonder: If we can't talk about it, and</div> <div> they can't talk about it, parents can't talk about it.</div> <div> Families and children can't talk about it and DCF gets</div> <div> really upset when the press talks about it, then at what</div> <div> point do we, as the money providers, also known as</div> <div> taxpayers, demand that someone, somewhere starts talking</div> <div> about it?</div> <bR> <div> A few interesting DCF case-statistics in fiscal 1998-99:</div> <bR> <div> Child protective investigations/alleged maltreatment of all</div> <div> types, 365,707</div> <bR> <div> Abuse, 99,285</div> <bR> <div> Neglect, 119,654</div> <bR> <div> Threatened harm, 140,476</div> <bR> <div> Special conditions, 6,292</div> <bR> <div> Closure data for reports, 93,142</div> <bR> <div> No indication of abuse, 47,010 (50.4 percent )</div> <bR> <div> Some Indication of abuse, 31,097 (33.39 percent)</div> <bR> <div> Verified abuse, 14,198 (15.24 percent)</div> <div> Question: What is the status of the remaining 272,265 cases</div> <div> reported in FY1998-99? Are they backlogged or have they been</div> <div> dismissed without findings? Note that only 15.24 percent of</div> <div> the completed reports found verifiable evidence of abuse.</div> <bR> <div> Desere Clabo</div> <div> Port Salerno</div> <bR> <div> <IMG SRC="1a9191d0.jpg" border=0 width="537" height="29" ALIGN="BOTTOM" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0"></div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <div> SOURCE: Ottawa Citizen</div> <bR> <div> Girl allegedly kept in dryer launches suit</div> <div> $1.3-million: Birth mother wants changes to the system</div> <bR> <div> By</div> <div> Gary Dimmock</div> <bR> <div> OTTAWA - A 10-year-old girl who was allegedly forced by her</div> <div> foster mother to live for months in a clothes dryer, coming</div> <div> out only at night to sneak scraps of food, is suing her</div> <div> suspected abuser and the authorities who allegedly failed</div> <div> her.</div> <bR> <div> The young girl and her biological mother have filed a</div> <div> $1.3-million lawsuit against the accused, the Children's Aid</div> <div> Society, and the Ottawa-Carleton District School Board.</div> <bR> <div> The statement of claims filed in Superior Court says the</div> <div> child was subjected to repeated assaults and batteries,</div> <div> falsely imprisoned, not provided with adequate food, not</div> <div> allowed to use the bathroom (causing her to urinate and</div> <div> defecate on her clothes), and placed in a scalding shower.</div> <bR> <div> "I want people to know what happened to my girl. I want the</div> <div> truth to come out, and hopefully this will bring changes to</div> <div> the system that failed us," said the girl's birth mother,</div> <div> whose identity is protected by law.</div> <bR> <div> The girl, now living with her biological mother, spent up to</div> <div> three weeks over a four-month period in the basement dryer,</div> <div> police say, living in her own feces and urine.</div> <bR> <div> Police also allege the foster mother, Cathie Doyle, 38,</div> <div> duct-taped the girl, strapped her in a high chair for hours,</div> <div> handcuffed her to a bed and locked her in a broom closet,</div> <div> her neck chained to a railing above.</div> <bR> <div> Ms. Doyle, facing criminal charges of assault causing bodily</div> <div> harm, forcible confinement, failing to provide the</div> <div> necessities of life and abandonment, denies the allegations.</div> <bR> <div> The alleged abuse occurred between Jan. 1, 1996, and Dec.</div> <div> 31, 1997. The alleged torment ended after the girl ran away</div> <div> from home twice in one week. The first time, she was</div> <div> returned to her foster mother; the second time, she was</div> <div> placed in foster care, where she remained for two years</div> <div> until being returned to her biological mother in December,</div> <div> 1997.</div> <bR> <div> The girl's birth mother has launched a Web site to tell the</div> <div> world her story.</div> <bR> <div> In her story, posted on maxpages.com/casfailedme, she</div> <div> portrays herself as a parent who in hard times trusted</div> <div> others to care for her daughter.</div> <bR> <div> "I'm not a perfect mom, but I do love my child. I was</div> <div> stressed and didn't know what to do," the biological mother</div> <div> writes.</div> <bR> <div> The Ottawa-Carleton District School Board is also named as a</div> <div> defendant in the lawsuit.</div> <bR> <div> In her time of alleged abuse, the girl missed several weeks</div> <div> of school.</div> <bR> <div> In a 1995-1996 report card, Lynne McCarney, principal of</div> <div> Christie Public School, said it was impossible to fully</div> <div> assess the girl's progress.</div> <bR> <div> According to school records, the principal wrote: "[The</div> <div> victim] has unfortunately missed a great deal of her final</div> <div> term at school. It has therefore been quite difficult to</div> <div> assess her progress fully."</div> <bR> <div> The girl is now doing well in school. Last week, she was</div> <div> named student of the week.</div> <bR> <div> The girl's biological mother reported the allegations of</div> <div> abuse to police in April.</div> <bR> <div> Police have obtained taped statements from the alleged</div> <div> victim and an independent witness.</div> <bR> <div> Ms. Doyle, a mother of three, has been released from jail on</div> <div> several conditions, among them to stay clear of children's</div> <div> organizations.</div> <bR> <div> In her denial, Ms. Doyle said, "It just didn't happen. How</div> <div> can I explain something that didn't happen?"</div> <bR> <div> Her foster child was a troubled child who threw wild temper</div> <div> tantrums, she said.</div> <bR> <div> The statement of claims says the child was subjected to</div> <div> severe physical and emotional abuse, "which has resulted in</div> <div> ongoing emotional pain and suffering, the immediate and</div> <div> long-term effects of which have not yet been fully</div> <div> assessed."</div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <div> "Protecting children just got harder"</div> <bR> <div> By Dave Brown - Senior Editor</div> <bR> <bR> <div> Ontario's tough changes to child protection laws kicked in yesterday, </div> <div> and if you're not frightened yet, you're not paying attention. </div> <bR> <div> It's another step in the march to zero tolerance. The thinking seems to </div> <div> be all problems can be solved with zero tolerance. Imbedded into the </div> <div> hearts of us all is the hope that no child will ever again be hurt. It's </div> <div> an impossible hope. A child taken from a dysfunctional parent still runs </div> <div> the risk of being abused in state care. </div> <bR> <div> We are becoming surrounded by zero tolerance. It's in our homes and </div> <div> workplaces. At home, domestic disturbance has been renamed domestic </div> <div> violence. If a woman dials 911, a man goes to jail. Police officers no </div> <div> longer have discretionary powers. They are there to arrest, and after a </div> <div> night in jail the man can go home only if he pleads guilty to assault, </div> <div> and his partner agrees to the return. If booze was involved and in the </div> <div> sober light of day the woman wants to reconsider, she can't recant. The </div> <div> promoters of zero tolerance know what's best. </div> <bR> <div> The old method of trying to help patch things up has been replaced by a </div> <div> method that tears part. </div> <bR> <div> Behind these attitudes are people who must consider themselves perfect, </div> <div> and they're determined to impose their perfection on the rest of us. </div> <div> They are creating regulations and legislation intended to mould us all </div> <div> into flawless creatures with no tempers. Their greatest weapon is chill </div> <div> factor. Who is willing to put up a hand and question any attempt to </div> <div> protect women and children? </div> <bR> <div> The creators of these tough new rules are politically adept, and they </div> <div> are authoritarian. That definition in my dictionary, is behind the word </div> <div> fascism. </div> <bR> <div> In child protection changes, the issues of neglect and emotional abuse </div> <div> are beefed up. It's not a big leap of logic to see the state pipelining </div> <div> into our homes. Mommy and daddy had a fight. If that news is carried to </div> <div> school by a child, a teacher may be obligated to report possible </div> <div> emotional abuse. Teachers are now being urged to not only keep their </div> <div> ears open, but to ask questions. </div> <bR> <div> Last November courthouses across the province changed to the Unified </div> <div> Family Court system. Many were shocked to find it didn't include </div> <div> mandatory mediation. With other courts pushing for mediation, the courts </div> <div> that handle family issues are making mothers and fathers slug it out </div> <div> through litigation. Would a quick mediated settlement not be in the best </div> <div> interests of the children? </div> <bR> <div> Ask why there's no mediation, and one finds chill factor. Family law </div> <div> practioners willing to talk demand anonymity. Some say the thinking that </div> <div> stopped family mediation was that a woman should not have to sit across </div> <div> a table and be manipulated by the man she's trying to get away from. </div> <bR> <div> Mediators, like policemen and child protection workers, are seen by the </div> <div> policy makers as incompetent. Only the big stick approach will work. </div> <div> Somebody has to get beaten up. </div> <bR> <div> The policy makers are saying, through their actions: OK people, this may </div> <div> seem tough now, but in the long run you'll thank us. The approach has </div> <div> been tried before. It was called communism. </div> <bR> <div> Feb. 19 last year, Judge Robert Fournier had a difficult task. He had to </div> <div> explain to an Ottawa couple what would happen now that they proved four </div> <div> of their children were improperly taken from them by child protectors, </div> <div> and made to disappear into adoption. The judge blamed overzealous </div> <div> caseworkers and "so-called experts." He made it clear it's a system that </div> <div> doesn't back up. "I know it leaves a hole in your heart," he </div> <div> sympathized, "but c'est la vie." </div> <bR> <div> We are a nation at war against child abuse. The war machine is </div> <div> increasing its flow of weaponry (money and laws) to a growing army of </div> <div> child protectors. Currently the targeted families are the poor. More </div> <div> money and personnel, and broader definitions of abuse, will create more </div> <div> targets further up the economic trail. </div> <bR> <div> More children will be taken into state care because more people are </div> <div> being sent out to bring in more children. We refuse to learn from the </div> <div> past. We've had to settle huge lawsuits with adults, who as children, in </div> <div> their own best interests were fed into training schools and boarding </div> <div> schools and abused by keepers. Foster care is a rapid growth industry </div> <div> and dangerous people will slip through the safety checks. Count on it. </div> <bR> <div> There are damaged people among us, and no matter how hard we try to stop </div> <div> them, they will kill people, including children. We can't stop trying, </div> <div> but when we try too hard, we destroy the homes and families of the </div> <div> people we're trying to protect. </div> <bR> <bR> <div> *Dave Brown is the Citizen's senior editor. His e-mail address is </div> <div> <U>dbrown@thecitizen.southam.ca</U><FONT SIZE="3" COLOR="#6633CC" FACE="Arial" > . </FONT></div> <div> *Read previous Dave Brown columns at <FONT SIZE="3" COLOR="#0000FF" FACE="Arial" ><U>www.ottawacitizen.com</U></FONT> </div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <div> Copyright 2000 Ottawa Citizen </div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> </td> </tr></table></body>