State cannot say how many foster children die each year!
"The state doesn't track these incidents no one really knows how many children have died or were seriously injured while they were in the state foster-care system. What is easier to document are the thousands of children who didn't get the attention or treatment they needed and were left struggling in the system for years. " Eric Thompson of Children's Rights
Let's NOT allow these precious children's death to be in vain - in the news one day, forgotten the next.
THESE ARE OUR CHILDREN! We owe them something.
We don't have to go halfway around the world to find wrongs to right or people in need. There are plenty of evildoers right here at home.
Kelsey Smith-Briggs ,2-year-old
Many are pointing to Kelsey's death as as an example of how the judicial system and DHS fail to protect children. Kelsey died four months after a judge returned her to her mother, despite suspicions the mother had abused her.
The final months of Kelsey Smith-Briggs' life Jan. 9, 2005: Kelsey suffers a broken collarbone and bruises while in the care of her mom, Raye Dawn Smith.
Jan. 24: Kelsey is moved to her paternal grandmother, Kathie Briggs.
April: Kelsey is still in Briggs' care but visits her mom regularly. She breaks both shins.
April 18: Raye Dawn Smith marries Michael Lee Porter.
May 3: Kelsey is placed in state Department of Human Services custody because of the broken legs. She is moved to her maternal grandmother, Gayla Smith.
June 15: Lincoln County - Associate District Judge Craig Key rules that who abused Kelsey is unknown. The judge returns Kelsey to her mother.
Aug. 19: Kelsey is hurt in a car accident.
Oct. 11: Kelsey dies, allegedly after her stepfather, Michael Porter, strikes her in the stomach at their home near Meeker.
Since Oct. 11 Separate memorial services were held the same day, with sheriff's deputies at one to keep the peace. Her new stepfather, Michael Lee Porter, was arrested and charged with first-degree murder. He is free on $250,000 bail. The judge and attorneys are set to meet Jan. 27. Her mother, Raye Dawn Porter, remains under investigation. She hired an attorney. Mike and Raye Dawn Porter are divorcing.
Kelsey's father, Lance Briggs, filed notice with the state, seeking $15 million for her death and an overhaul of the Department of Human Services.
Lance Briggs and his wife, Ashley, are divorcing.
Rallies are held outside the Lincoln County Courthouse and at the Capitol. Some call for the judge in Kelsey's case to resign.
State Rep. Kris Steele begins work on reform legislation to be called the Kelsey Briggs Law.
Kelsey's outspoken grandmother, Kathie Briggs, calls for changes.
A Web site is created. Briggs writes on the home page that she realized Kelsey's purpose in being after Kelsey "joined the other little angels in Heaven." Briggs writes: "She was put here to make a difference - to make sure other children are protected."
BRISTOW ? Raye Dawn Smith was found guilty of enabling the abuse of her 2-year-old daughter and given a 27-year prison sentence, a jury decided today.
After the verdict was announced, Smith lowered her head into her hands and sobbed, "I don't understand. Help me."
Jurors at trial of Smith began deliberating at 2:45 p.m. today. They deliberated for less than three hours before reaching a verdict.
Beforehand, defense attorneys and prosecutors delivered their closing arguments.
Smith, 27, sobbed again today as prosecutors said she was responsible for the death of her daughter.
"Tears do not absolve you of your accountability," District Attorney Richard Smothermon told jurors in closing arguments. "The path of inaction caused Kelsey Shelton Smith-Briggs to be murdered. You can't ignore that. ... This child was murdered. This child was murdered because her mother allowed it to happen."
Prosecutors asked jurors to convict Smith of either child abuse or enabling child abuse. Kelsey, 2, died Oct. 11, 2005, at their home near Meeker.
Both the district attorney and defense attorneys say Kelsey's stepfather, Michael Lee Porter, sexually assaulted and murdered Kelsey. Porter, 27, is serving 30 years in prison after pleading guilty to a lesser charge of enabling child abuse under a deal with prosecutors. He and Smith divorced after Kelsey's death.
Prosecutors said Smith abused Kelsey herself, which is child abuse, and knew Porter was abusing the girl, which is enabling child abuse. Jurors could only choose one.
"She knew. She knew," prosecutor Pattye à High said. "A mother doesn't have the right to choose her man over her baby. A mother doesn't have the right to do it. ... The law requires a mother to stand up for her child."
The district attorney said Smith was on notice her husband was hurting Kelsey, pointing to testimony that Kelsey in May 2005 said to her mother, "Daddy Mike hurt my head." He also pointed to testimony that Smith had called her mother in the weeks before Kelsey's death with concerns after the stepfather taped Kelsey's eyes shut while playing.
Smith's mother testified earlier, "We was starting to watch him."
Jurors in the trial heard from 22 prosecution witnesses, 10 defense witnesses and two prosecution rebuttal witnesses. Smith did not testify.
The prosecution witnesses included Porter, who denied hurting Kelsey and blamed his ex-wife for the death. Porter said he saw Smith abuse Kelsey three times.
Jurors learned during the trial that Kelsey suffered a series of injuries in the last months of her life. She broke a collarbone in January 2005 and both legs in April 2005. She repeatedly was turning up with bruises on her face and body and bumps around her nose. On Jan. 14, 2005, her stepmother found bruises on her body and face and red prickly marks on her rear.
Her defense attorney, Steve Huddleston, told jurors today there was no evidence Smith was responsible for the injuries. He also said she would never have let her then-husband hurt the girl.
"Ladies and gentlemen, this case, from start to finish, is full of doubt," the defense attorney said. "I still have a lot of questions. And, what do questions lead to? Questions lead to doubt."
Huddleston said Smith was only charged because of pressure from the family of Kelsey's father, particularly Kelsey's outspoken grandmother, Kathie Briggs. He said Briggs bizarrely even met with Porter to try to get evidence against Smith.
He showed jurors a photo of the mother playing with a smiling Kelsey and another of Kelsey sleeping on the mother's stomach. He asked jurors if Smith looked in the photos like a woman who would allow her child to be injured.
The defense attorney said, "She has been through enough. ... It is time to stop it. It is time to draw the line in the sand and say, ?It stops here.' ... I need you to stand up for her. ... Stand up. Stop it. Stop this stuff now."
The defense attorney said the evidence of who broke Kelsey's legs was particularly unclear. He pointed to defense testimony that Kelsey sprained her right ankle at the zoo April 14, 2005, but walked on her left leg at a slumber party, the courthouse and the mall until going to her paternal grandmother. She was diagnosed with two broken legs April 25, 2005, when she couldn't walk after returning from the grandmother, according to the testimony.
The district attorney conceded he couldn't say who broke the legs. But Smothermon told jurors they could focus on testimony about Kelsey's bruised and injured behind in January 2005 and have enough evidence to convict Smith of child abuse.
A former boss and a former co-worker testified Smith admitted spanking Kelsey over the diaper with a hairbrush. Smith told police she couldn't explain the bruising and red prickly marks in January 2005.
Michaela Watkins 10-years-old
'The system failed this little girl'
There were plenty of chances to save blond, 10-year-old Michaela Watkins.
Grieving relatives said yesterday that social workers and police had visited the home to investigate complaints against her father and stepmother, Patrick and Joy Watkins, now charged with criminal abuse in her death.
They and an advocate for Kentucky children say the Watkinses should never have gotten custody of Michaela to begin with.
Michaela was found dead at her Winchester apartment Sunday afternoon. Witnesses told police that she had been dead for at least 45 minutes before emergency workers were called, court records show.
'The system failed this little girl,' said Michaela's grandmother by marriage, Audrey Stokley, who said she had complained to social workers about Patrick Watkins. 'They should have checked closer to see what we were talking about instead of saying, 'Well, it's fine.''
Cabinet for Health and Family Services officials said yesterday they are launching an internal investigation into the case, as is customary when a child dies while being monitored by state social workers. The Cabinet decides case by case whether to release details about what led up to a child's death.
But Cabinet Undersecretary Tom Emberton Jr. said he would not release details about the cabinet's contact with Michaela because of the police investigation and in an effort to protect the confidentiality of her three siblings, who have been removed from the home.
Michaela's mother, Rachel Samules, divorced Patrick Watkins in 1997. Initially, she was given custody of Michaela. (Family members have given conflicting spellings of her name, which has also been reported as McCaylah.)
But Samules used to leave young Michaela home alone in Fayette County with her baby brother Michael, sometimes all day and night, in squalid conditions, relatives said. After finding them home alone, the state placed the two children in foster care more than a year ago.
They wound up with the Watkinses, despite Patrick Watkins' history of domestic violence, including several incidents against Samules and one against Joy Watkins, court records from Fayette and Clark counties show.
'I just can't figure out why they would give him custody of the children in the first place,' said Samules' father, Gary Adams of Indianapolis. 'Why didn't they contact the grandparents first?'
Betty Stokley, Joy Watkins' grandmother, said the Watkinses sought custody of Michaela -- who draws a disability check of at least $600 a month -- for the money.
Patrick Watkins' record and the Watkinses' convictions for domestic violence against each other should have been enough to prevent them from gaining full custody of Michaela and from adopting Michael, her half-brother, said David Richart, one of Kentucky's leading child advocates.
'Somebody dropped the ball,' said Richart, executive director of the Louisville-based Institute on Children, Youth and Families. 'I would go so far as to say that the death could have been prevented had the cabinet been diligent in investigating.'
The Watkinses were each charged with first-degree criminal abuse on a child less than 12 years old, for failing to get treatment for Michaela's injuries, police said.
In a taped interview with police, both said they had noticed that the child's breathing was slowing and that a heartbeat was barely detected at one point, court records say.
The Watkinses, who declined an interview with the Herald-Leader yesterday, have pleaded not guilty. Samules could not be reached for comment.
Police would not say whether they believe Patrick Watkins' account that Michaela received her injuries from falling down the stairs. However, authorities have said that more charges are likely once they view the results of an autopsy that was completed Monday.
Despite witnessing repeated acts of violence, Betty Stokley said she did not notify social workers because she knew Patrick Watkins would cut her out of her grandchildren's lives. 'I couldn't call social workers -- I wanted to keep the kids in my life,' she said. 'I thought this way I could keep a close eye on them. I don't know, maybe I should have done more.'
Domestic violence connection
The system failed Michaela on many levels, advocates and officials say.
As far back as 1995, Kentucky child protection officials serving on a task force declared that there was a connection between parents who engage in domestic violence and the risk of physical abuse to their children.
Kentucky social workers routinely deny family members custody simply because there's an allegation of domestic violence, experts say. And mothers can lose custody of their children for not immediately taking them out of the home when a spouse or partner is violent.
Rachel Samules' December 1996 divorce petition mentions two incidents of domestic violence. In one, the petition alleges, Patrick Watkins 'beat her about the head, stole her personal belongings, including her driver's license and all forms of personal identification.'
Teachers often can spot abuse of children, but they could not help Michaela because the Watkinses were given permission to home-school her in December.
Yesterday, Diane Akers, Clark County's director of pupil personnel, said Kentucky's lax state laws governing home-schooling prohibited her from investigating why Michaela was being home-schooled or whether she was receiving an appropriate education. Michaela's death should be a wake-up call to lawmakers to strengthen the law, she said.
'It's a tragic situation,' Akers said. 'We are endangering a lot of children when we don't have some way' of determining how they are being educated.
Akers said that under state law, the Watkinses did not have to tell her why they were taking Michaela out of the school system, or give her details of the curriculum they intended to follow.
Akers said she has many concerns that among the 230 students being home-schooled in Clark County, several parents aren't providing adequate instruction. And she has always worried that some parents might be removing children to avoid scrutiny by school officials.
Shearer Elementary Principal Ed Sigmon said yesterday that there were 'no signs that raised any red flags with us' while she was a student there.
Sigmon described the 10-year-old as 'an overachiever -- a very hard-working young lady.'
Neighbors set up a memorial in front of Michaela's front door Monday night, and staff members at Shearer are raising money to pay for her funeral and to fund a scholarship in her name. Lasting Impressions, in Winchester, also donated a dress for Michaela to be buried in.
A Tarrant County jury Friday convicted an Arlington foster father on a charge of injury to a child for causing the death of his foster daughter in 2005 and trying to make authorities believe the three-year-old girl died of injuries from a car accident.
Timothy Warner, 31, was charged in the death of his 3-year-old foster daughter, Sierra Odom.
The jury returned Friday afternoon to start the punishment phase of the trial. Warner faces up to life in prison, but could be eligible for probation.
Witnesses and recorded confessions showed how Warner's explanations about Sierra's death changed throughout that night and early morning in August 2005.
When police were called to USMD Hospital at Arlington shortly before midnight, Warner said his foster daughter had been hurt in a car accident. He told officers at the hospital that he was taking the 3-year-old to get ice cream when he swerved to avoid a possum and veered off the road, police officers testified.
When Warner struck a brick pillar along side Harris Road, Sierra flew from the backseat to the front of the SUV, he told investigators.
Police officials who testified said they were immediately suspicious of Warner's story since his SUV suffered only "cosmetic damage," and the airbag didn't deploy. An accident investigator and private contractor who showed the jury a computer-generated recreation of the wreck estimated that Warner's SUV was traveling about 5 to 10 mph when it struck the column. They also said he swerved one direction to avoid a tree and then swerved back the other way so he could hit the column.
Tarrant County Sheriff's Detective Danny Nutt, formerly an Arlington police detective, said Sierra had bruises and injuries "from head to toe" in various stages of healing.
Later during questioning at Arlington police headquarters, Warner told detectives that Sierra fell and struck her head against a bookcase and then stumbled into a vacuum cleaner.
Each time she fell, the girl "hit like a ton of bricks," Warner said in a videotaped interview, pounding the table with his fist for emphasis.
"You take care of me Big Tim," Warner said, quoting Sierra after the fall. "You take care of me."
Officers testified that Warner admitted to faking the car wreck to cover up Sierra's injuries. Later, after his wife Valena Warner was interviewed, Warner changed his story again.
A police officer and crime scene investigator testified that Warner told them that he hit Sierra several days earlier after she smeared feces on a wall. Warner told police that accounted for some of her bruises, according to testimony.
He then explained to officers that he was upset with Sierra when she hit one of his biological children the night she died. Warner said he tried to put Sierra in time out, but she fought him and ran to a bedroom, the officers testified.
There Warner admitted to grabbing her by the face and pushing her into the bookcase, where she struck her head on the bottom shelf, according to police testimony. He told officers that her eyes rolled back in her head and she became pale.
Instead of taking the girl to a hospital immediately, Warner told police that he and his wife held the girl in front of fan, performed CPR and put her in a bathtub filled with hot water before staging the auto accident.
Warner's attorney, Joe J. Johnson Jr., attempted to bar the jury from seeing his client's video-recorded confessions. He argued that Warner had been interviewed by police illegally before he was notified of his rights, a claim state District Judge Elizabeth Berry rejected.
During Wednesday morning's testimony, Johnson requested a mistrial at least nine times, partially because of his objections about the Miranda warnings but also when one police officer sobbed after seeing a picture of Sierra's dead body.
Johnson argued that Arlington police Sgt. John Gonzales was "feigning grief because he saw water in a bathtub." The prosecution previously showed the jury a picture the bathtub where the Warners told police that they bathed Sierra after she was injured.
At least one juror also cried.
Johnson also tried to cast suspicion on Mrs. Warner. He asked Sgt. Gonzales: "Have you ever heard of husbands trying to protect their wives in situations like this?"
"Other than on TV, no," Sgt. Gonzales said.
There were eight children living at the Warners' house on Cresswell Drive the night of Sierra's death - four biological children and four foster children. That night, the couple was also babysitting three other children as part of their overnight childcare service.
02:59 PM CDT on Friday, April 27, 2007
By DEBRA DENNIS and JEFF MOSIER / The Dallas Morning News
Octavious Sims, 1-year-old
GEORGIA'S FORGOTTEN CHILDREN State law mandates that doctors, teachers and others report child abuse. But they can't find out what the state does about it.
Octavious Sims, whose family had a long history with the Fulton County DFACS, is one example. From 1990 to 1996, people called 11 times to notify the agency that Octavious or his siblings were not being cared for. Of the 11 complaints, caseworkers said only two could be verified. But according to a later internal review of the case, even then, only minimal steps were taken to ensure the child's safety.
Among those calling to register their concerns were a hospital social worker, law enforcement officers, a juvenile court worker, a school administrator, a mental health worker, friends, relatives and even his mother, Tanya Christian.
Since Christian had her first child at 16, the young mom had had five more, nearly one a year, all the while battling mental illness. Records show that in addition to hearing voices, she had a history of suicidal and homicidal tendencies, with a number of stays at Georgia Regional Hospital.
One week two law enforcement agencies called the Fulton child welfare agency. An Atlanta police officer told caseworkers he'd found the mother and her young children wandering the streets all night. They were so cold and hungry, he said, he'd fed them himself. Despite his firsthand knowlege, and that of a Fulton County warrant officer who called with a similar story, child welfare workers dismissed both reports after visiting the home and finding the children "clean and well-dressed."
"It is unacceptable to dismiss reports made by mandated reporters without more investigation," an internal review by the state office found. The review found that nearly all 11 complaints had been poorly handled, with inadequate investigations and a failure to check the history of reports before responding to a new one. The report also criticized the Fulton agency for not gathering information on the mother's mental illness and treatment.
Even if the police officer had asked child welfare workers what they were doing to help the children, they could only legally have told him that they did not verify what he knew to be true.
Virgil Costley, former juvenile court judge in Newton County, says the law didn't go far enough.
"Teachers and others are their friends, not their enemies," Costley said. "There's no reason why a mandated reporter shouldn't be able to call back and find out what's going on."
He said if more people had the information, more people could help children before it is too late. "Instead it's like saying, 'Don't worry about this. We just want your information and we don't ever want to see you again,'" Costley said.
Octavious was just learning to walk in 1996 when his mother and father killed him. Three days shy of his first birthday, his mother brought him to Midtown Medical Center. He'd been dead for hours. She said the children had been jumping on the bed a week earlier when Octavious hit his head. But the autopsy showed the child had been starved, immersed in boiling water and killed by blows to his face and head.
Last year, on her 24th birthday, Christian and Ricky Lee Sims pleaded guilty to voluntary manslaughter and were sentenced to 20 years in prison.
A little girl named Jeannie touched the hearts of Georgia legislators a decade ago.
They never saw her, never met her, but her elementary school teacher from Blairsville in northeast Georgia came to the Gold Dome and told them about her. She told them for a year that she had tried to save the child, a 9-year-old who came to school smelly and dirty and fearful of the men her mother brought into their home. For a year, the teacher said, she had called and badgered the local DFACS office demanding to know what they were doing to protect this little girl and her 6-year-old sister.
For a year, child welfare workers had told the teacher who saw the child almost daily that they could tell her nothing due to conf identiality laws.
Then one day the teacher learned that Jeannie had been killed by one of her mother's friends. He had raped her, stabbed her and thrown her in the river while her younger sister watched, the teacher told the hushed room of lawmakers.
In response to stories like this, the Georgia Legislature relaxed confidentiality laws to allow people like Jeannie's teacher, who are mandated by law to report suspected child maltreatment, to learn whether the agency confirmed abuse. The idea was to encourage more people to get involved and give them a tool to hold the child welfare agency more accountable.
Ten years later, the records of dead children show that many different kinds of people -- from doctors to teachers to police to grandparents -- do indeed call child welfare workers when they fear for the safety of a child. But the records also show that their professional judgment often is ignored.
By Jane Hansen Atlanta Journal-Constitution Staff Writer
Deonna Green 2-year-old
The lessons of Deonna Green
THIS SUMMER, county welfare departments began filing brief questionnaires about child abuse and neglect cases that led to deaths or near-deaths. They filed these reports because they had to -- California was on the verge of losing millions of dollars in funding for failing to comply with federal reporting laws. It's thanks to this bureaucratic snafu that we know about Deonna Green.
Green was the 2-year-old Pittsburg foster girl who died last week after suffering severe brain damage. An autopsy is pending -- but the result seems almost certain to have something to do with the amount of baking soda that the underweight girl consumed the night before her foster mother brought her to Children's Hospital in Oakland. While authorities investigate Green's case, her foster mother, Khareasha Pugh, and her boyfriend, Demaude Dawkins, have both been arrested, and it has come out that complaints have been filed against Pugh in her capacity as a licensed day-care provider.
It's an ugly case, but it may turn out to be a useful one. Who knew baking soda could be so dangerous? Plenty of Bay Area parents do now, and they'll store it accordingly. The Contra Costa Human Services Department, still reeling from another highly publicized child death this fall -- the Raijon Daniels case -- is conducting an extensive review of how it does business, including whether or not it could have better information-sharing practices with other agencies. (Such as the licensing department where Pugh got her day-care provider license.) These are extremely positive developments in a tragic case that might have passed with no notice -- had reporters at the Contra Costa Times not been seeking information about the deaths of foster children in their area.
"Due to the changes the state made in July, which say that if there's a fatality or near fatality (in abuse or neglect cases of children in the social services system), we have to send a report within 48 hours," said Lynn Yaney, public information officer for the county's Human Services Department. "The Contra Costa Times asked us if any children had died in foster care since we had to file these questionnaires, and it just happened that this girl died (last) week."
The Green case is particularly horrific, but it's also a case that may have easily been missed. Although state law requires counties to release the names and dates of death of foster children, it doesn't require that information be matched with counties' abuse and neglect questionnaires. Putting the two together -- and using that information to find out what's happening to our children in the foster-care system -- is still a puzzling business, at best.
We respect the fact that foster children, their siblings and their biological and foster parents deserve confidentiality in every aspect of their lives that isn't germane to the public interest. But when a foster child dies, the public has a right to know why, how and what might be done to keep it from happening again. No member of the public should have to go to court to petition to see a dead foster child's case file. Other states have authorized their officials to make these files public, and the skies have not fallen. Nor have they been threatened with the loss of their federal funding.
Unfortunately, California has a ways to go when it comes to transparency. In an e-mail, Shirley Washington, deputy director of public affairs for the California Department of Social Services, told us that state law prohibits disclosure of any juvenile court records. We had a look at the Welfare and Institutions Code, and indeed state law does require that this information be kept confidential -- "and shall not open to examination for any purpose not directly connected for the administration of that (welfare and institutions) program."
What could be more connected to the proper administration of our child welfare services than the ability of the public to find out if foster children are getting the protection and safety they need?
It's time for California to do better by its foster children. State Sen. Carole Migden, D-San Francisco, is working on a bill to introduce more transparency into the deaths of foster children. Similar bills have failed in the past. The Legislature must act this time.
Monday, December 18, 2006
Arabella Rose Moreno 7-year-old
Police saw 'nothing' at house where girl, 7, died
A top Metro Police official said Thursday that the officers who responded to a domestic disturbance call last weekend at a house where a 7-year-old girl was later allegedly stabbed to death by her mother saw "absolutely nothing" that would have mandated they call Child Protective Services.
Deputy Chief Ted Moody, appearing on "Face to Face With Jon Ralston" on Las Vegas ONE (Cox cable channel 19), said that police saw nothing to support the contention that Sherri Love had thrown a metal candlestick holder at her 14-year-old son, Michael "Mikey" Corbo, and injured him.
"No bruises, no redness, no swelling," he said.
Police were first sent to Love's home at 6268 Alpine Tree Ave. on the disturbance call at 3:30 p.m., according to a police report on the incident. Corbo said the candlestick had hit his back; his stepfather, Richard Moreno, had made the call to police.
But because of "no corroborating witness, and no physical signs of injuries, no arrest was made," police said in their report.
Soon after police left, Love got into an argument with her 8-year-old son, Brian Moreno, about whether he could go home with his father, Richard Moreno. Love and her son got into a scuffle, according to a second police report.
The boy then went to sleep for a brief period, according to the report - only to wake up to find Love stabbing his little sister, Arabella Rose Moreno, to death.
Police said Love then proceeded to stab Brian in the hand and forearm before he ran to a neighbor's house.
Love later tried to kill herself, police said, by ingesting prescription medication and alcohol. She was drunk throughout most of the day, police said.
She remains in a coma in a local hospital.
Arabella apparently told police not to worry about her safety when they responded to the first incident.
Tom Morton, the director of Clark County's Family Services Department, said on "Face to Face" that during the initial police response, Arabella at one point sat in a police cruiser - first with her shoes off before she went to retrieve them - and told them that she didn't want to go to her dad's house.
"She said, 'Mommy would never hurt us,' " Morton said.
But that shouldn't have meant that Love wasn't still a danger, said the lawyer representing the surviving children, Corbo and Brian Moreno, and Love's mother, Marjorie Bull.
"They're going to listen to a 7-year-old kid with no shoes on, with a drunk mother in the house?" Las Vegas attorney Stephen Caruso said. "The irony of that is killing me. I just can't believe it.
"This woman is suicidal, she's drunk - she's a danger to her kids," Caruso said.
A call to social services could have saved Arabella. But officers have to follow specific guidelines to determine when such calls are warranted, Moody said. Those include evidence of abuse, neglect or abandonment, or if the caregiver is "unable" to provide care.
"None of these things became an issue during this call," Moody said. He added that if any of the officers had accessed the Child Protective Services database - as has been suggested they should have done - they would have found that the last call to that agency regarding the Love family was in 1999.
Morton also defended the police officers' actions. "Simply because she had an altercation with a 14-year-old that resulted in a potentially violent act doesn't necessarily mean that there was a threat of violence to the two younger kids," he said.
Said Moody: "Anybody trying to blame the officers or CPS for this is going down the wrong road."
Sam Skolnik can be reached at 474-7406 or at sam.skolnik@lasvegassun.com.
Michael Vallejo-Seiber ,3-year-old
Experts say Child Protective Services failed slain Inland boy
In 2005, Riverside County's Child Services Division removed 3,209 children from their families while investigating allegations of abuse or neglect in the home.
Three-year-old Michael "Mikey" Vallejo-Seiber was not one of them.
On Aug. 22, 2005, a worker from the division -- also called Child Protective Services -- concluded that a bruise on Mikey's face that had been reported by his pediatrician was not the result of abuse. One week later, Mikey was dead, the victim of a savage beating inflicted, Riverside prosecutors say, by his mother's boyfriend and the boyfriend's roommate.
Now, after reviewing case files supplied by The Press-Enterprise, some experts have raised questions about CPS's investigation, while CPS has defended its workers.
Rubidoux resident Alex Kermith Mendoza, 28, who has spent time in prison for drug and domestic violence convictions, could face the death penalty if convicted of the boy's torture and slaying. He has pleaded not guilty.
His roommate, Richard Daniel Cox, 20, was convicted March 7 of first-degree murder and assault on a child under 8 resulting in death. He faces a maximum of 25 years to life in prison when he returns to Riverside County Superior Court on April 13 for sentencing.
Mikey's mother, Pamela Seiber, is serving a six-year sentence after pleading guilty to child endangerment in the case. She has filed an appeal.
Although she was not at home at the time her son was tortured and beaten, prosecutors charged that Seiber failed to protect the boy when she repeatedly left him in the care of Mendoza and Cox, including the night Mikey was tortured. Seiber was at work in a strip club where she performed.
Francisco Vallejo, the boy's father, was in prison before the child was born.
In August 2006, then-CPS assistant director Sharrell Blakeley defended her agency's August 2005 investigation of Mikey. "We did a lot of things right," including responding within hours to the complaint phoned in by the boy's pediatrician, she said. Blakeley has since retired.
CPS is mandated by state law to investigate allegations of child abuse and neglect.
A CPS emergency worker went to Pamela Seiber's home the day the pediatrician made the Aug. 15, 2005, report of Mikey's bruise and suspicions that Seiber was on drugs. However, the worker did not find Seiber at home.
CPS interviewed Mikey and his mother the next day at their Riverside apartment after Seiber contacted the department. No questions were asked about child care arrangements.
Six days later, a worker concluded Seiber was adequately providing for her child, CPS documents show.
'Fundamentally Flawed'
Child welfare experts who reviewed Mikey's case file on behalf of The Press-Enterprise said it raised troubling questions about the training case workers receive in conducting investigations and about an environment that appears to encourage a rush to judgment.
The file was released to The Press-Enterprise after the newspaper petitioned Riverside County Juvenile Court. Presiding Judge Becky Dugan ordered the file released after names of the reporting party, caseworkers and other CPS officials were blacked out.
The caseworker who was part of the emergency response team that investigated the Aug. 15, 2005, complaint did not follow the basic protocols outlined in California's Department of Social Services Manual by not interviewing others involved in the child's care, said Bill Grimm, senior attorney for the National Center for Youth Law in Oakland.
No interviews were done with the grandparents, neighbors or the child's physician.
Grimm said the worker also ignored an important diagnostic tool, a questionnaire about previous CPS complaints, a history of drug or alcohol abuse and the history of the caregiver, that could have found a high risk of neglect for Mikey.
Cynthia Hinckley, director of Riverside County's Department of Public Social Services, declined to discuss specifics about Mikey's case, citing a legal claim filed against CPS by Salomon and Lidia Vallejo, the boy's paternal grandparents.
In general, though, Hinckley said state law does not require interviews with others -- even the person calling in the complaint -- if a report is deemed "unfounded" or untrue. That was the case with the August 2005 allegation and the Vallejos' 2004 complaint, which Riverside County dismissed in 2006.
Vallejo had complained that Seiber was a negligent mother, left her son for long periods of time while she "partied" with friends and used drugs.
In September 2006, CPS adopted a new policy requiring that investigators contact the person making a report, said Jennie Pettet, acting assistant director for children's services.
The new policy was adopted because officials realized a reporting party might have additional information, Pettet said.
Grimm said the case raised other red flags: the age of the child, the location of the bruise and the Vallejos' complaint.
Grimm also was concerned with how easily CPS workers accepted Seiber's explanation of Mikey's bruise despite conflicting versions in the case file.
The boy first told the pediatrician, "Mom hit me." Then when the pediatrician asked if he had fallen on his toy and hit his eye, Mikey said, "Yes, I fell."
Seiber told social workers that Mikey hurt himself when he ran into a table or a counter when her boyfriend's dog came into the house. She later said she wasn't home when the bruising occurred.
"A policeman would have asked to see the table. He would have measured it and measured the boy," Grimm said.
In a closing summary completed after Mikey's death, the social worker notes the conflicting versions of how the boy hurt himself, that Seiber had a substance abuse problem and that she had left the boy alone with a convicted felon.
"This person just wasn't trained and not supervised to do a competent investigation," Grimm said. "It's a fundamentally flawed investigation."
'Gut Feeling'
Hinckley said she believes the worker took appropriate action.
A worker must find credible evidence of abuse or neglect in order to take the traumatic step of removing a child, Hinckley said.
CPS investigations typically average 30 days and can involve contacting the immediate family and talking to anyone having contact with the child including family members, neighbors and school officials, Hinckley said.
Still, Hinckley and Pettet said it is not unusual for a worker to close a case after one interview based on his or her perception of the family situation, the general environment and the bonding between parent and child.
"This particular family situation had so much going for it in general," Hinckley said. "It just didn't come close to rising to the level where we would remove the child."
In a narrative, the worker notes that the boy had no other bruises, that Seiber volunteered to take a drug test and passed, that her apartment was clean and that Mikey appeared happy.
Not everyone agrees.
"I had a gut feeling about that case. Something wasn't right," said Scott Chase, who supervised the emergency worker who responded to the pediatrician's complaint.
Chase no longer works for CPS and was interviewed by telephone at his home in North Carolina.
Chase said he had concerns about the brevity of the investigation, the lack of additional interviews and the inattention to the 2004 complaint made by the boy's paternal grandmother.
While state law may not require additional interviews, "it's definitely best practice," Chase said. "That means what is best for the child. It means following the law plus something more. Following your gut feeling."
Chase said if there had been time, he would have sent the file back to the worker for more investigation. The file was returned to him for review five or six days before Mikey was beaten to death, Chase said.
Horrifying Abuse
Seiber would later tell investigators that she left her son with Mendoza, a man she had known for three weeks, because she had problems finding someone to watch the boy while she danced at night.
According to the CPS investigation narrative and testimony at Cox's trial, over the course of several hours on the night of Aug. 27, 2005, Mendoza slapped, kicked, stomped, burned, sodomized and pummeled the boy as Mikey screamed, cried and pleaded, "Stop, Alex, stop." Mendoza and Cox also forced the child to drink alcohol and eat dog food and his own excrement, according to testimony.
Seiber and Mendoza brought the boy's cold, lifeless body to Riverside Community Hospital in the pre-dawn hours of Aug. 28. Doctors there revived him and transferred him to Loma Linda University Medical Center for more intensive care.
He died the next day.
Loma Linda doctors described it as the worst case of physical abuse that they had ever seen, the case file shows.
The boy had bruises of varying ages over his entire body, severe head and abdominal trauma, a lacerated liver, a ruptured spleen, injured kidneys, a broken rib, burns and injuries to his genitals and rectum.
Lidia Vallejo, who has attended Mendoza's court hearings and Cox's trial, said she and her husband were advised by Corona attorney Michael J. La Cilento not to pursue the lawsuit against CPS but does not recall why.
La Cilento did not respond to repeated calls and a written request for comment.
Seiber's parents, William and Roswitha Seiber, did not respond to calls and a letter seeking comment.
Rush to Close
Randi Miller, professor and chairwoman of the Sociology Department at Cal State San Bernardino, said CPS appeared to be in a rush to close the case.
Miller spent about five years evaluating and providing training for a program run by the San Bernardino County Department of Children's Services and Children's Network of San Bernardino County that assisted families in need, some of them grappling with domestic violence.
"There was a failure on the part of CPS to develop the full picture of what was going on," Miller said. "They seemed to have closed the case without following through, especially with the medical people and the caretakers."
A third expert said his review of the case file showed an adequate investigation that resulted in a reasonable conclusion. Richard Wexler, executive director of the National Coalition for Child Protection Reform, said it is easy to criticize CPS with the benefit of 20/20 hindsight.
"Look at what we have here," he said. "A child who gives conflicting accounts of his injury; no other injuries on the child; a mother who is cooperative to the point of getting in touch with CPS after the workers couldn't find her; a mother who goes for a drug test and it comes back negative."
But an area in which all three experts agreed is that CPS might have missed a golden opportunity to derail the forthcoming tragedy by failing to offer help -- in-home assistance, counseling and daycare options -- in response to Vallejos' 2004 complaint.
Chubby Hands
In a spare bedroom of the Vallejos' comfortable Riverside home, one wall is given over to photos of Mikey. In one, the boy sprawls on his grandfather's chest, laughing at the camera.
The Vallejos doted on their first and only grandchild -- a boy they said had chubby hands, his father's nose and who loved horses, dogs and tools.
The Vallejos' son Francisco, 23, met Pamela Seiber at Lincoln Continuation High School in Riverside in 2000.
Francisco and brother Salomon Jr. were incarcerated for attempted murder months before Mikey's birth.
"He's never held him," Lidia Vallejo said in Spanish.
The Vallejos took care of the boy most days, and he usually spent two or three nights at their house, Lidia Vallejo said.
That all changed when Pamela Seiber met Mendoza. Seiber took Mikey from the Vallejos, and mother and son began spending most of their time at Mendoza's. The Vallejos saw the boy rarely during his final three weeks of life, they said.
But it was Lidia Vallejo who took Mikey to the pediatrician on Aug. 15 for treatment of an ear infection and the bruise on his head.
More than 18 months after Mikey's death, the couple remain grief stricken and holds CPS as well as Mendoza, Cox and Seiber responsible for their grandson's death.
Lidia Vallejo said she was frustrated that CPS declared her 2004 complaint unfounded and believes the department should have made unannounced visits, talked to Mendoza and given Seiber a hair follicle drug test in the 2005 investigation.
"At the end, when Mikey was already severely injured, then they (CPS) got tough with her," Lidia Vallejo said, tears running down her face. "Then it was too late."
In 2005, the year Child Protective Services investigated the case
of Michael "Mikey" Vallejo-Seiber, Riverside County received 23,051 allegations of child abuse or neglect
17,009 referrals resulted in an investigation.
3,209 children were removed from 1,509 families.
As of January 2007:
1,492 of the 3,209 children were reunited with their families.
1,111 children remained with foster families or family members.
178 children transferred out of Riverside County.
83 children were awaiting a placement change or were listed as runaways.
345 children had their cases closed for reasons such as termination of parental rights, adoption and emancipation.
Source: Riverside County Department of Public Social Services
Skyla Brooks 18-month-old
June 5,1998-March 21, 2000
Pair jailed in abuse death of toddler
BRISTOW (AP) -- A Creek County couple are behind bars after being arrested in connection with the death of the woman's 18-month-old daughter.
Tammy Brooks, 27, and her boyfriend, Kurt Arnold Vomberg Jr., 30, are in the Creek County Jail on complaints of first-degree murder and lewd molestation in the death of Skyla Brooks, Chief Criminal Deputy Ed Willingham said Tuesday.
The toddler was pronounced dead at Hillcrest Medical Center in Tulsa at 6:25 p.m. Tuesday, roughly 24 hours after Vomberg reportedly summoned authorities to a home west of Sapulpa.
Vomberg said the child was choking and that he shook her ''pretty hard'' in an effort to revive her, authorities said.
Vomberg said the baby was choking, ''but the doctor said that's not possible,'' Creek County Sheriff Larry Fugate said.
Physicians found bite marks and numerous bruises on her body. Hospital personnel also found a number of scrapes and tears in the child's vaginal area, Willingham said.
Skyla Brooks never had a gentle hand to hold. She never knew a kind face to laugh with her, or a soft lullaby sung as she drifted to sleep...instead she knew only pain and fear, suffered at the hands of those that should have loved her most. On March 21st 2000, little Skyla succumbed to vicious injuries inflicted by her mother's boyfriend. Her tiny body was covered in human bite marks, broken bones, bruises and cigarette burns. She had also been sexually assaulted. Skyla surely looked to her mother for help, but instead of saving her 21 month old little girl, she stood by and allowed Skyla to endure the brutal abuse that finally ended her life. Skyla's grandmothers were aware of the abuse she was suffering, and fought hard to save her. In the end, they had to say goodbye anyway. Please help to remember Skyla and light a candle for her...let this little angel know that she will not be forgotten!
Ricky Morales wore his red Power Rangers suit out to play even when it grew too tight. The would-be hero with deep-set dimples told people his mother would come for him after she got out of jail. But she never did come for him.
By the time he died at age 11 in the custody of his aunt and uncle, Ricky was bone-thin.
His body was a map of bruises and scars, burn marks and cuts when he died in Corona on Christmas Day 2005. He died locked in a feces-strewn closet while his aunt and uncle, Raul and Cathy Sarinana, entertained guests for dinner. The Sarinanas are in a Riverside County jail awaiting trial on murder charges.
Ricky was killed three months after social workers in Washington state, where the family had been living, cleared Raul Sarinana of child abuse allegations. When the letter arrived telling Raul he was not suspected of "negligent treatment or maltreatment," Ricky's 13-year-old brother, Conrad, was already dead, his body entombed in a concrete-filled trash can.
The Sarinanas have pleaded not guilty in Ricky's death. Prosecutors in Washington, where Conrad died, said they plan to charge the couple after their Riverside County trial.
In Washington, child protective services dismissed without investigation at least three reports of neglect, drugs and abuse -- physical, sexual and emotional -- in the Sarinana home. None of the allegations warranted investigations or home visits, officials decided.
In the final months of the boys' lives, authorities in Los Angeles County as well as Washington received reports of abuse. However, investigations were superficial, warning signs were not heeded and basic protective procedures were not followed, according to records and interviews with relatives, social service officials and child-welfare experts.
Officials with the Washington stateDepartment of Social and Health Services and the Los Angeles County Department of Children and Family Services have reviewed their handling of the case and concluded that they did everything they are required to do.
The Los Angeles County Child Death Review Team, which studies child deaths to better protect children, also reviewed the county's handling of the case, said Cassandra Turner, the team's leader.
"Nothing had been done wrong," she said.
Not every child can be saved, even when social workers do everything in their power to protect them, said Turner.
"We are put in a position where we are damned if we do and damned if we don't," she said. "We have to respect the rights of the family while helping them through very dark waters."
In Washington state, Lewis County Child Protective Services Supervisor Juli Stewart said her social workers also did everything they should have.
But a California legislator familiar with the case said the lack of intervention was indefensible.
"That's atrocious," said California State Assembly Majority Leader Karen Bass, who chairs the Select Committee on Foster Care. "I don't see how they can defend that."
The deaths of Ricky and Conrad reflect the problems with child protective services, Bass said. While it's not helpful to attack social services after every tragedy, it also does no good to defend substandard work, she said.
"I think it would have been more honest to say, 'The social workers needed to do better,' " she said.
Social workers throughout the state are overburdened with heavy caseloads, and child protective agencies are often put on the defensive, she said. But cases like this scream out for improvements, she said.
Stu Riskin, a spokesman for the Los Angeles County agency, said no policy violations or systemic problems were exposed in this case.
The boys' deaths have not triggered changes in the system.
'The Dope House'
The brothers were born into danger.
"The first time I saw them was during a drug raid," said West Covina police Detective Dan Nalian. "In the middle of it, (their mother) was sitting on the couch breast-feeding one of them. My partner and I knew it then. These kids never had a chance."
Ricky and Conrad were the youngest of six children. The two oldest siblings died of sudden infant death syndrome, family members said. The boys lived in West Covina with two sisters and their parents, Rosa and Conrad Morales.
"Our house was the dope house, and everyone knew it," said sister Vanessa Gallardo, 23, of Baldwin Park.
"I hated it so much. I always cried, and all the police knew me as the crybaby," she said. Police told her and other children in the family they would grow up to be troubled like her parents, she said.
"That's why I tried so hard to be different, to show my brothers and sister another way of life. ... I used to dream I would get a job and my own place so my brothers and sister could come live with me."
Gallardo earned a technical degree and works in a pharmacy but was never able to adopt her brothers.
Conrad was 1 when social services first entered his life. His arm broke in a fall from a second-story window on the same day his 4-year-old sister ingested PCP and had to be hospitalized. The children were placed in foster care for months before returning to their mother. Over the years, Los Angeles County social workers would investigate at least five more allegations of abuse or neglect involving the children and various relatives.
The family was well known to local police, said Nalian, who made multiple drug raids at the home where the children lived during the '90s.
According to court records, the children repeatedly were traumatized by exposure to drug deals and SWAT team raids when officers blasted locks and broke down doors.
"These people should never have these children," Nalian and his partner wrote to a judge overseeing custody of the young boys. "The only hope is to remove these children from this environment."
When child protective services intervened, Rosa Morales took classes and submitted to drug tests to get her children back. She gave up her boys for the last time in 2004, when her parole for a drug violation was revoked.
She left Conrad and Ricky with her mom in La Puente. But within a few months, Morales let Conrad move to Washington to live with her brother and sister-in-law.
'A Safe Home'
It was then, around Halloween 2004, when Ricky acted out in school. The 10-year-old wrote "Die, Ricky, die" on his arm.
"You just don't know what is going on at my house," he told a teacher. "My life is not worth living."
Fearing that he was suicidal, authorities admitted Ricky to a psychiatric hospital. Los Angeles County Department of Children and Family Services social worker Elia Godinez began investigating allegations that his grandmother beat Ricky and Conrad.
In a report to her boss, Godinez wrote that she substantiated the abuse allegations.
Ricky's maternal grandmother, Estella Sarinana, denies hitting her grandchildren.
By then, Rosa Morales was out of jail, but she couldn't support Ricky.
The social worker gave her an ultimatum, Morales said. "She said, 'Conrad seems to be doing fine in Washington, so why don't you send Ricky to Washington, too? You've got one week to send him to Washington or I'm going back to court, and your kids are going back into foster care.' "
Morales sent Ricky to his Uncle Raul.
Through a county spokesman, Godinez declined to be interviewed for this story.
A follow-up plan devised by Godinez's supervisors directed her to call social services in Washington to make sure Ricky received therapy and to make sure the boys were living in a safe home. She also was supposed to interview Conrad by phone at his school so he could talk freely about conditions in the home. That never happened, according to Los Angeles County records.
In a report to her boss, Godinez wrote that she contacted child protective services in Washington to "ensure their safety." She noted the first name of the person she spoke to.
Washington social service officials said they have no record of such a call, and no one there checked on the boys.
In closing her case, Godinez wrote that the boys had been removed from the abuse and that their mother had made living arrangements for her children and would provide "a safe home" with their uncle.
But Raul Sarinana was a felony drug offender who later told police he took medication for anger management and was plagued by voices. If Godinez had taken her abuse findings to a judge to have the boys made wards of the court, the felony conviction would have disqualified Sarinana as a guardian under California law.
Cracks in the System
An outside expert who reviewed the case for The Press-Enterprise said the system failed the boys because social workers didn't follow basic policies standard among child-protective agencies nationwide.
Division 31 of California's Child Welfare Services Manual lists detailed policies to make sure children are safe when a parent voluntarily removes them from an abusive situation. In such cases where abuse is substantiated, social workers are required to establish a written agreement with the parent and a case plan for ongoing protection of the children.
Child protective services is then responsible for assessing the suitability of the voluntary guardian and the safety of the home and for conducting follow-up visits to make sure the children remain safe. When the children are sent out of state, as in Ricky's case, child protective services workers are supposed to first approve their placement and develop a written contract with out-of-state social workers to continue to monitor the children's safety. It is the California social worker's responsibility to provide a follow-up plan and make sure the out-of-state social worker follows it.
Riskin, the Los Angeles County child protective services spokesman, and representatives of other child-protective agencies said it is standard for social workers to take abuse findings to court. The judge can require oversight including background checks on guardians and regular follow-up visits.
Godinez never took her abuse findings to court, nor did she carry out the voluntary placement process. Because Ricky's case was never officially opened in court, the state's policies didn't apply, Riskin said.
With the boys removed from the house, it wasn't necessary to open a court case, Riskin said. "We can't open a case if the child is not here. ... (Morales) was still their mother and responsible for where they were placed."
However, the social worker still had the same responsibility to protect the children with or without a court case, said Bobby Parnell, a retired social worker of 20 years. Now he works with Justice For Children, a national nonprofit group that represents children in civil suits and works toward child protective reform.
The social worker could have done a background check on the Sarinanas and arranged for a home visit and monthly follow-ups, Parnell said.
"You've already discovered that the mother's decision to place the kids with the grandmother was inappropriate, so you have to scrutinize her second choice -- the uncle," he said.
"With an open investigation, they may not have been able to stop the mother from sending (Ricky) to his uncle. However, they did have an obligation to make sure the child was safe with whomever she placed him," he said.
"If you don't follow up, how do you know the child hasn't been sold into slavery or sent to axe murderers or the exact type of situation these kids ended up in? It's not just policy, it's common sense."
In Riverside County, physical abuse findings are automatically taken to court, said Jennie Pettet, the county's deputy director of children's services.
"If the kids were living with the grandmother, and we substantiated physical abuse in the home of the grandmother, we would have removed the kids from the custody of the mother," Pettet said. "You can't just assume the next place she sends them will be any safer."
Riverside protocol also requires regular follow-up visits to ensure the children's safety in their new home, along with proof of medical care and school enrollment, Pettet added. Any notification to social workers in another state would have been made in writing, she said.
'Case Closed'
Even before Ricky was sent to Washington, records show that officials there received reports of emotional abuse and neglect in the home where the Sarinanas lived with their two young children and Conrad.
In the months after Ricky arrived, neighbors, police, the boys' sister in California and a therapist working with Cathy Sarinana reported domestic violence, drug use and physical and sexual abuse.
Ricky was never enrolled in school in Washington, and few in the community even knew of him.
Friends and neighbors noticed Conrad wearing make-up to hide black eyes and bruises. Conrad told a girl in his seventh-grade class that his aunt and uncle were hitting him and that his uncle was cutting him and molesting him.
Washington social workers did not investigate a neighbor's report of neglect and emotional abuse in January 2005. They did not open an investigation again a month later when a sheriff's deputy relayed more abuse allegations.
The boys' sister, Gallardo, had called from California to report drug use and physical abuse to deputies based on strange phone calls she was receiving from Raul Sarinana and Conrad.
The report was second-hand, and a call to a counselor at Conrad's school revealed no evidence of abuse, said Stewart, the child-protective supervisor in Lewis County, Wash. That wasn't enough to warrant investigation, she said.
A counselor working with Cathy Sarinana called Lewis County's child protective services in July 2005 to report that, according to the Sarinanas, Conrad had molested Ricky. The couple told the counselor they sent Conrad back to California.
The department assumed Ricky was no longer in danger because Conrad was gone.
"When you've got a professional in the home working with the family, there is less of a safety concern," Stewart said. "The other big thing was that Conrad was no longer there."
Police believe Conrad was never sent away.
According to Corona police, Raul Sarinana later confessed that he beat Conrad severely on Aug. 22 and placed the boy in the bunk bed he shared with Ricky. By morning, Conrad was dead.
Three days later, Cathy Sarinana called the county about an at-risk youth program for her out-of-control nephew Conrad. In response, a Lewis County social worker interviewed the family for the first time.
Unable to reach them at home, social worker Bob Cordell interviewed the family in the parking lot of an am/pm minimart on Aug. 30.
The Sarinanas told Cordell they sent Conrad to relatives. Cordell's written report doesn't indicate he made an effort to confirm the boy's whereabouts.
When the social worker asked about the earlier report of sexual abuse by Conrad, Cathy Sarinana recanted.
"Some of this seems suspicious, but the CPS issue is still unfounded," Cordell wrote in his report. "Case Closed."
He never pulled Ricky aside to talk about the alleged abuse without the Sarinanas listening.
While it is policy and generally "good practice" to take those steps, it's not always possible, said Kathleen Spears, Lewis County's CPS spokeswoman.
The social worker simply wasn't in a position to interview Ricky alone or track down Conrad, said Spears. The family said they were moving to California, and this seemed like his last chance to interview them, she said.
Cordell's supervisor did not allow him to be interviewed for this story.
Even though Conrad had been accused of molesting Ricky, the department sent a letter Sept. 2 clearing Raul Sarinana of abuse allegations. When one child molests another, it can be a sign that a sexually abusive adult is in the picture, Spears said. The social worker cleared Raul Sarinana because the Sarinanas had recanted their claims of sexual abuse in the home, she said.
The family reported Conrad a runaway in October, saying he had fled with an elderly gay lover. Three days later, the family moved to Corona. Once again, Ricky was not enrolled in school.
Neighbors and servers at a Corona restaurant saw Ricky with black eyes, bruises and cuts. A grocery store employee in Norco reported seeing Raul Sarinana kicking Ricky.
Neighbors on Belle Avenue pitied the child, who sold his toys at weekend yard sales.
During the family's two-month stay in Corona, the trash can that held Conrad's body was stored in the carport, and Ricky lived in a closet.
After his death, investigators said Ricky's body showed signs of months of abuse. Scars hinted that he had been whipped with electrical cords and burned with cigarettes. Wounds on his thighs and bottom were so infected, they could have killed the child, Mark Fajardo, a forensic pathologist for the Riverside County coroner's office, testified in court. Because the wounds were so infected, it is difficult to say what caused them, he added.
Police say Raul Sarinana confessed to kicking Ricky on Christmas Day because the boy was too slow in cleaning the bathroom. He told police he carried the injured child by his belt to the closet. He said he kicked the boy one last time when he caught Ricky reaching for the doorknob as if to escape.
Common Danger
"I felt bad for the kids, but I wasn't surprised," said Nalian, the detective who intervened when the boys were babies.
Though the violence was extreme, the dangers they faced are not uncommon among the children who police and social workers help every day, he said.
The Sarinanas moved between states -- one of the many challenges social workers face when abusers try to hide, said Turner, of the Los Angeles County death review team.
"You'd be surprised how often we are left holding a piece of paper saying here are allegations of abuse, and we can't find the family, and we can't find the kids," Turner said. "They're ghosts in the night."
A national database to share information among states could help fill cracks in the system and save lives, she said.
Ten children died of abuse in Los Angeles County in 2005 despite the intervention of social workers. Ricky and Conrad are not included in the statistic because they were killed elsewhere.
Nationwide, 40 percent to 50 percent of abuse fatalities involve children who received child protective services, said James Shields, director of Justice for Children.
"That's just too many," he said.
The California legislature has identified overworked social workers as the major problem. Los Angeles County, the nation's largest child protective agency, has 3,000 case workers responding to roughly 9,400 to 13,500 reports of abuse monthly. The average Los Angeles County emergency response caseworker handles 21 cases each month compared with Riverside County's average of 18.5 cases each month.
The Los Angeles County caseload is down significantly from two years ago when the department was last involved with Ricky and Conrad, said Riskin, the department's spokesman.
The county is also hiring 500 people in an ambitious effort to reduce caseloads even further, he said.
Assemblywoman Bass spearheaded an ongoing $50 million statewide hiring effort to reduce workloads. California also is seeking federal funding to further reduce caseloads, she said.
The Washington Division of Children and Family Services is reforming its procedure for handling abuse cases after audits that showed inconsistencies in the quality of investigations around the state. The department has focused on reducing response times and plans to adopt the same standardized case methods being used in California and several other states.
But for Gallardo, the boys' oldest sister, there are no excuses. After her brothers were killed, she covered the walls of her apartment with mementos -- baby pictures and grinning class photos.
"I don't want this to happen to any other kids," she said. "It's so frustrating, because I could tell something was wrong, and I called police, and I tried to get help, but no one would do anything. No one would help my brothers."
Gallardo said she blames child protective services for not checking to make sure Ricky was safe in Washington.
"If they did their jobs, I don't think my brothers would be dead," she said.
'Violence Happens'
Raul Sarinana has a buzz cut, salt-and-pepper stubble and watery brown eyes. Tattoos peeking out from his jail-issue jumpsuit identify him as a member of Big Hazard, a gang from his native Ramona Gardens housing project in East Los Angeles.
Violence, he said with a shrug, is inevitable and child abuse is part of growing up in the Sarinana family. In a jail interview, he said he accepted custody of his sister's boys to save them from the violent childhood he experienced.
When he talked about the abuse, his body shook.
"They use you and abuse you in whatever way, shape and form that they can," he said. "It's just the way that not only I grew up, but others, too. It's just the way society has it, and there is nothing any social worker can do about it."
The youngest of five children, Sarinana said he had no one to save him when he was a child.
In Conrad and Ricky's case, social workers didn't do much, but it wouldn't have made a difference if they had investigated, he concluded. They would have seen good things -- a happy family that took trips to the river to have barbecues and water gun fights, he said.
Violence is unpredictable, he added.
"You're sitting at dinner, and -- Bam! Violence happens," he said. "You're watching football, and -- Bam! Violence. You're at a barbecue -- Bam! Violence."
Sarinana recanted the confession he made to Corona police. He insisted that he tried to save Conrad and Ricky.
"I loved my nephews. I would have done anything for them, but my hands were tied," he said. "My hands were tied even before they came to live with me. ... All Ricky ever wanted was to be loved.
"I tried to help him."
Corona Detective Jeff Edwards paints a different picture. On the day of his arrest, Sarinana described his nephews as a burden, Edwards said during a court hearing.
According to Edwards, Sarinana asked, "Who cares about these kids? Nobody cared about them when they were dumped on me."
When Sara Eyerman of northern California was nineteen-months-old, child protective services was concerned that she wasn't growing fast enough. So they "erred on the side of the child" and placed Sara in a "specialized" foster home.
About six weeks later, Sara began running a 105 degree fever. But the "specialists" in the specialized foster home decided it was o.k. to wait two days before taking her to a doctor. On the way to the doctor's office, Sara Eyerman died of viral pneumonia.
"She should have been in the hospital two days earlier when she had a 104.8 [degree] temperature," said Sara's mother, Angie. "When she was home, she went to the emergency room if her temperature got over 101. I didn't care if they laughed at me when I got there or not. One time I took her when she was cutting a tooth ... I kept her alive for a year and seven months. They had her for six weeks and three days and she died.
China Marie Davis 20-month-old
"Don't go, Mommy. I love you."
About a week before she died, Caprice Reid's mother saw her daughter for the last time. The little girl clung to her mother's neck and said "Don't go, Mommy. I love you.
China Marie Davis was placed in foster care in Arizona when she was a little over a year old. Someone decided to "put the child first" and take her from her parents. They made a "child focused" decision. They "erred on the side of the child."
Ten months later, China Marie Davis' autopsy revealed two broken collarbones, a broken left arm, a broken right rib, two fractures of the left upper arm, a fracture of the right upper arm, broken left wrist, a broken left hand, a broken left forearm, a broken right wrist, a broken right forearm, fractures of both thigh bones and a compression fracture of the spine.
No one suspected anything because her foster mother always dressed her in such pretty outfits.
Jamie Mayne 4-year-old
"All I have is a headstone to look at instead of his beautiful face."
When child protective services took four-year-old Jamie Mayne from his father, they never bothered to tell his mother, Marie Panos, who was not living with the man.The mother was never accused of abusing or neglecting the boy.But after she found out about the removal two days later and offered to care for him, authorities in California refused. They decided to make a "child focused" decision, to "put the child first," to "err on the side of the child" by placing Jamie with a stranger.
"I went up to them to get my children, and they said they're in the system now and I had to do a case plan in order to get my kids back," Panos said.
But a jury in Visalia, California found that while Panos was working on her "case plan," Jamie was being tortured and murdered by his foster mother.He died of a collapsed heart, a ruptured small bowel and an abdominal hemorrhage.There were more than 40 bruises on his body."It's hard because I can't pick him up and kiss him," Panos said at the foster mother's trial."All I have is a headstone to look at instead of his beautiful face.
Zachary Commissaris 20-month-old
Whatcom County baby beaten to death -February 6, 2005
BELLINGHAM, Wash. - The pain is unbearable for Christina Kuoppala. Her little nephew, Zachary Commissaris, was apparently beaten to death, four months shy of his second birthday.
"I actually slept with his clothes last night so I could smell him . that's how much I loved him," she said.
The family said doctors told them Zachary was likely beaten, strangled, dragged on the ground, shaken and ultimately killed by a massive blow to the back of his head.
"He had cuts from head to toe on his ears, eyes, nose. He had a cut on his hand that looked like he was protecting himself," said Kuoppala.
Police say a 29-year-old friend of the boy's family brought the boy, unconscious, to the emergency room of Bellingham's St. Joseph Hospital Friday afternoon. Doctors called police but the man disappeared before they arrived.
The man had been watching Zachary for four days because the boy's parents had been evicted from their home. Exactly what happened over the course of those four days is still unclear, but the results are brutally obvious.
"He barely had begun to live and somebody took his life away. It's not fair, it's you know, a monster," said Kuoppala.
In his death, little Zach helped save the life of another child by donating a vital organ.
Police are refusing to name the man who dropped Zach off at the hospital in Bellingham. They are calling him a "person of interest" and hope to talk to him soon.
Deputies served a search warrant at the man's home, and questioned several people, including his girlfriend, the boy's parents and other family members.
A second child belonging to the man and his girlfriend was placed with Child Protective Services.
06:27 AM PST on Monday, February 7, 2005 By ERIC WILKINSON / KING 5 News and Wire Reports The Associated Press contributed to this report.
Baby Charles 7-month-old
Foster Mom Arrested in Baby Charles Case
The foster mother of a baby boy who died from head trauma has been arrested. Las Vegas Metro police, in a news release, says Melanie Ochs was arrested for "murder by child abuse."
Channel 8's I-Team was there when the suspect was arrested Thursday afternoon.
Ochs was the foster mother of 7-month-old Baby Charles who died at University Medical Center two months ago.
Originally, Ochs claimed Baby Charles slipped in the tub and denied hurting the infant. But a coroner's report says his injuries were no accident.
Metro's Lt. Brian Evans said, "A lot of time in these child abuse cases, the offending parent doesn't mean to harm the child. It's one of those thing where they may be tired, may be frustrated, going through financial difficulties and you have a crying child and they don't know how to deal with them."
After his death, Metro launched an investigation and the coroner's office said the baby was murdered. He died from blunt force trauma to the head, but investigators say they don't know exactly how the baby was hurt.
Investigators say Melanie Ochs was the only adult in the home when Baby Charles was injured. She was arrested at her home Thursday and charged with murder by child abuse.
At the time of the boy's death, the foster family had two other children in their home. They have been put into protective custody. Baby Charles was placed in Ochs' home when he was only three days old.
Ochs has no criminal history.
Her husband has not been charged.
There have been 43 child deaths investigated by Metro police in 2006 out of which six have been deemed murder by child abuse.
A DCFS licensing worker failed to ensure that a foster home had working smoke detectors. The worker rushed a licensing inspection because "the foster mother was in a hurry," an investigative report stated. The three children died after a fire July 19, 2000, that destroyed the home. After the fire, a second licensing worker employed by DCFS told an investigator that she "was unfamiliar as to how to check (smoke detectors) to find out if they are operational." A state fire marshal's probe concluded that the home had no smoke detectors. "The worker's admitted failure to check for fire hazards in the home may have cost three children their lives," the inspector general concluded.
DCFS DISCIPLINE: Faced with discipline, the second licensing worker resigned. A child protection investigator received counseling.
Tina Winston 11-year-old
Died July 10, 2000 Palatine,IL
Two staff members at a residential facility for developmentally disabled children used by DCFS attempted to restrain Tina. The girl was extremely disruptive and took psychotropic medication. But the workers were unfamiliar with the restraint -- a choke hold -- and Tina died. Her death prompted four pages of recommendations from the inspector general about how to deal with children who are mentally disabled.
DCFS DISCIPLINE: None
Ganis
Christian Ganis, 1-year-old
MaKayla Ganis, 2-year-old
Isaiah Ganis, 3-year-old
Could DHS have done anything?
Christian, his older brother and older sister died in a house fire after their mother left them alone for nearly an hour.
Their grandparents blame the state Department of Human Services for the 2003 tragedy. Agency officials deny wrongdoing
Last year, a lawsuit over the deaths was quietly settled for $370,000, records show.
The agency paid $200,000, two private child-welfare agencies paid $135,000 and the church that owned the house paid $35,000.
About $105,000 of the agency's share of the settlement will go to a nonprofit organization to prevent child abuse. None of the money went to the children's mother or father.
The grandparents claim state welfare workers knew the mother was neglecting the children but failed to seek their removal.
"With all the red flags that were up, they should have done something sooner," said grandfather Donald Wayne Ganis, 51, of Oregon. "The system back there failed us as a family. ... I get angry about it every day."
The paternal grandparents collected about $85,000 from the settlement, after taking out attorney fees, legal costs and the share that is to go to a nonprofit group.
"It was an insult," the grandfather said of the settlement. "We would have been satisfied with just a formal, written apology, but that never happened. And it never will happen. They won't admit that they made a mistake."
The case is one of the most heartbreaking examples of a frequent criticism of the agency ? that the state agency that is supposed to protect children too often leaves them in harm's way.
Christian Ganis, Isaiah Ganis, 3, and MaKayla Ganis, 2, died the night of Aug. 7, 2003, in a house fire that grew into an inferno while their mother smoked a cigarette at a neighbor's house. The mother was then 24. The father had moved out months earlier, and her new boyfriend was away.
The mother, Sarah L. Ganis, is serving a 40-year prison sentence for child neglect.
Sarah Ganis said she could hear Christian crying as she tried to rescue her children.
"I have made some mistakes. I might've made some bad choices but ... I would never put harm upon my children," she said at her trial.
Records show a human services agency worker and private child-welfare workers checked on the children repeatedly in the weeks before their deaths because of complaints from the father and grandparents.
The state agency worker reported finding serious problems with the mother's care.
The agency worker in one visit to the mother's home found it cluttered with trash, toys and clothes, with roaches on the walls and flies swarming over Christian's dirty, wet bed. The mother tried to hide a marijuana bong.
Day care workers told the agency the children often were dirty, and the older children mimicked sex acts.
The grandparents' attorney, Pat Cantrell, said the agency worker also is at fault for missing obvious signs that methamphetamine was being made in the mother's home.
Agency officials say workers cannot directly remove children.
However, they can, working through prosecutors, seek a judge's order to get the children removed. In this case, they chose to get Sarah Ganis counseling and services.
The grandparents then lived in Ardmore and said they would have gladly kept the children if a judge had taken them from their mother.
"I was scared for those babies," said the grandmother, Ethel Ganis, 51. "If DHS had done their job, they'd be alive. ... Now, they're with Jesus ... but why did they have to go through that?"
The children's father, Donald Joseph Ganis, had considered not returning the kids when they visited with him. He told the Ardmore newspaper in 2003 it led to fights with their mother that upset the children.
"She would yell, kick at the doors, pound on the windows," he said.
The agency faced paying up to $525,000 over the deaths. It agreed to pay $200,000 "just to bring some closure to it," human services attorney Joseph Strealy said. "There was no admission of liability from our part."
The agency's share of the settlement came from a risk fund every state agency pays into. Agency officials stipulated that none of its share go to the mother or the father.
Department of Human Services Director Howard Hendrick referred questions about the case to an attorney. Last month, Hendrick said, "Child welfare is inherently complicated and exposes all persons involved ... to the life and death consequences of the work involved. Hindsight is perfect."
The agency's attorney, Strealy, said the mother had cleaned up after agency visits, and agency workers at one point thought the father was going to keep the children but he didn't. The attorney also said agency workers face lawsuits no matter what they do.
"We get sued whether you take the baby right away or you don't take the baby, so that's the difficulty there," he said.
Also settling was High Pointe HealthCare, based in Oklahoma City, and Community Children's Shelter, the groups that arranged for a private social worker to visit the home three times. High Pointe paid $75,000. Community paid $60,000.
The state agency hired High Pointe to provide home-based services to mothers like Ganis. High Pointe in turn paid Community Children's Shelter for the actual case workers who did those services in Ardmore.
High Pointe's attorneys said the private worker visited the home three times and found no serious problems. The grandparents' attorneys alleged the private worker was incompetent and missed evidence of neglect, like the gargoyle marijuana bong and marijuana pipes recovered after the fire.
"We didn't admit any wrongdoing," said High Pointe's attorney, James Secrest.
The burned home's owner, Emmanuel Baptist Church, paid $35,000. It allegedly did not have working smoke detectors in the house. The family had moved into the church's house shortly before the fire.
Experts differed on the cause of the fire, which started in a bedroom closet. Prosecutors suggested the mother could have accidentally started it while smoking.
The children's bodies were recovered after the house burned.
This is one in a continuing series of reports by The Oklahoman about the state Department of Human Services. The agency has more than 7,500 employees and manages a $1.6 billion budget. It is responsible for caring for children, the elderly and underprivileged.
Background
State child-welfare workers had repeated contacts with Isaiah Ganis, 3, MaKayla Ganis, 2, and Christian Ganis, 1, before they died in a house fire Aug. 7, 2003, but never sought to remove them from their mother.
Here is some of what agency and court records show:
?A Department of Human Services worker made an unannounced visit at the mother's house April 29, 2003. The worker reported finding Christian alone in a playpen on the porch while the mother cooked and the other children watched TV. Christian had a dirty face.
?There was little food there, no milk, no baby formula but two half-full bottles of alcohol in the freezer and an almost full carton of cigarettes.
?On the floor were screws, batteries, marbles, a plastic bag and small toys that a child could easily choke on.
?In the baby's room was a board with "numerous nails down two sides."
?Parts of the house were so cluttered with clothes or toys there was little room to walk.
?The mother was unemployed.
?Two hours later that day the mother had cleaned up the choking hazards and some clutter and bought milk.
Things got worse
Day care employees told the DHS worker on July 2, 2003, that the children often came in stinking and dirty. One worker said she bathed Christian daily. Workers also said Isaiah and MaKayla had been caught mimicking sex acts with each other.
Little Blessings Daycare's director said, "The kids are sweet ... and cute ... but ... they are not being cleaned properly and they are learning about sex from somewhere."
The DHS worker went to the mother's house on July 2, 2003:
?Flies were found throughout the house and roaches crawling on the walls.
?Dirty dishes were in both sinks, on the counter and on the stove and trash was on the counter, stove and kitchen floor.
?There was limited food and no milk, but a quarter bottle of whiskey was in the freezer.
?The older children's beds had no sheets.
?Clothes ? described by the mom as clean ? stank of urine.
?Christian's bed had dirty, wet sheets, swarming with flies. A baby bottle leaked onto a pillow.
?The mother's bedroom was cluttered with clothes and the mother tried to hide a big brown marijuana bong. The mother said it was her estranged husband's and that it didn't even have water. The mother then shook it and water splashed on her and the DHS worker. Two marijuana pipes also were in the house.
?The mother was instructed to clean up and take parenting classes. She was signed up for services through a private child welfare organization hired by DHS.
?On July 7, 2003, the children wore dirty clothes and had rashes when they underwent medical exams.
Staff Writer Nolan Clay
Islam Elkaryoncey 12-year-old
12 Year Old Boy Kills Himself When Court Mandates Visit With Abusive Father - Mother Wants His Memory to Have Meaning Towards Changing the System
On Tuesday, October 25, 2005, Islam Elkaryoncey, a twelve year old boy hung himself, choosing death over the prospect of a court mandated visitation with his father. The tragedy of his death is overshadowed by the tragedy of his life, which was fraught with violence at the hands of an abusive father and the unwillingness of the courts to protect him.
According to Danielle Lough's advocate, Sandra Ramos, who is the Founder and Executive Director ofStrengthen Our Sisters shelter for battered women and children, Danielle and her three young sons lived in terror for several years. Not only were the children subjected to witnessing their mother being brutally beaten repeatedly by their father, but they were themselves were victims of his wild abuse. In August of 1998, Danielle confided with a friend that she feared for her children's lives, after her oldest son Islam had been hung upside down in a twisted sheet and beaten with a stick on the bottoms of his feet by his father. Her friend called Sandra Ramos and Strengthen Our Sisters took in the distraught mother and her children. Shortly after their arrival to the shelter, Danielle applied for and was granted a restraining order and believed she and her children would finally be protected. However, an appeal was filed by the father and the court ordered unsupervised visitation, despite Danielle's pleas to have these visits monitored.
All too often, the children would come back from the visitations with bumps and bruises, obviously disturbed and begging not to have to go again. This went on for years. Danielle would petition the courts seeking help for her children, showing photographs of the bruises and would request supervised visitation, which would be granted but then always overturned when the father and his expensive attorney would go to the court and protest. At one point Islam, at the age of 8, who was the recipient of the most extreme abuse, experienced a breakdown and spent 19 days at St. Clare's Hospital in Denville, NJ. The psychiatrist's report to the court stated Islam was experiencing post-traumatic stress disorder, attention deficit disorder, and extreme depression from the abuse he had experienced and witnessed over the years.
Finally, in May 2005, the judge mandated psychiatric evaluations for the entire family to determine whether the children should be forced to continue visitations with their father. Danielle and her three sons heartily embraced this opportunity to have someone finally understand what they had endured and present their evaluations to the court. However, the father left the country and did not return for five months. During this time, he was served with contempt papers for failing to comply with the ordered psychological evaluation. His excuse was that he had only expected to be gone for two weeks, to tend to his ailing mother (who according to Danielle he had previously declared dead to the INS in 1994, when he wanted to leave the country and be able to return), but that he had been further delayed due to a car accident. He had also testified in another courtroom, two weeks prior to leaving the country, that he was anxious to get the evaluation over with, as he was planning on being away for several months. On July 18, 2005 the judge called the family back into court to assess the evaluations, but since the father was still in Egypt, he ordered his parenting visitation time suspended, stating his reasons were based on the father's contempt, and on his assessment and review of the psychiatrist letter to the court. This letter stated the children had clearly been subjected to abuse and that they should be able to make their own choices about visitation. The letter also stated that the judges formal recommendation would take place after he actually had the opportunity to meet with the father.
On September 8, 2005, the father asked the judge to vacate the order of July 18, 2005, at which time the judge stated he would review all orders and documentation on October 21, 2005.
After leaving the shelter, Danielle met and married her current husband and gave birth to another son. Danielle, her husband and her children longed to move away from the area and go to Kansas where Danielle had grown up, and where there were supportive relatives. On October 7, 2005, Danielle put in a request to the court to relocate with children to Kansas City, at which time the judge arbitrarily vacated the July 18, 2005 order and mandated supervised visitation for the father, despite the fact that he did not yet have a full report. Danielle's attorney protested and said that no visitation should be granted until the court had the full psychiatric profile of the father. The judge denied his appeal.
Danielle reported that when she broke the news to her children that they would have to see their father, she assured them that the visit would be supervised. The two younger boys protested but then reluctantly agreed. Islam; however, was beside himself and kept saying that they can't make me see him. She said he was extremely agitated over the next few days, so she called the psychiatrist's office to ask that he intervene and make an appeal to the judge, on behalf of her son. Regrettably, before any of this could happen, Islam went into his room the next day and hung himself, choosing death over the prospects of being forced to be with his torturer.
Hesia Rosenberg, Director of the Circle of Life Organization, has been working tirelessly to help make the public more aware of what the courts are not doing to protect children like Islam. "I have received letters from Florida to Washington, Texas and Tennessee and they continue to pour in. New Jersey is not an isolated state when it comes to corruption. All states are amassed with judicial and legal corruption, and we have to stop it." She recommended that people watch a new PBS documentary scheduled to air on November 20, 2005, entitled "Breaking the Silence", to educate themselves on this national scandal of how the courts are neglecting their duty to protect our most vulnerable, abused women and children.
In 2000, Jill Soderman was a volunteer at Strengthen Our Sisters. She was a licensed therapist and clinical social worker, having over 33 years experience as a non-biased expert witness in many domestic violence cases in New York and New Jersey. Jill attempted to intervene, on behalf of Danielle's children, after interviewing them in the presence of their father. She reported to the court at that time that she felt the children were in grave danger. After reporting such, Jill was harassed on a daily basis by receiving hundreds of phone calls with male voices, muttering in a language she did not understand. This harassment continued, as she persisted in trying to get help for the children, when her house suddenly burned down. Though the perpetrator was never found, she was told by police and firemen that it had clearly been a case of arson. Ironically, the house where Danielle and her children lived was also burned down.
Jill Soderman is currently involved in a second doctoral program involving forensic evaluation and psychoanalysis cases, with particular emphasis on the role of the expert witness. She originally saw the children with Danielle, while they were residing at the shelter and had lined up many witnesses, such as teachers and principles, as well as friends. Jill was never allowed to testify in court, nor was her witnesses, some of whom claimed to have been threatened as well. Instead, she was discredited and so was Danielle by a court appointed evaluator, who claimed that the children had been brainwashed. According to Jill, this evaluator remained a protagonist of the father throughout many of the court hearings, though he was never subpoenaed. It was his claims that brought the Division of Youth and Family Services (DYFS) into the case. DYFS did not want to accept custody of the children and so transferred custody to the father, who brought them back to their mother after three weeks, claiming they were incorrigible. It was at this time that Islam had a breakdown and was brought to St. Clare's Hospital in Denville, NJ, claiming that he and his brothers had been beaten and brutalized by his father, while in his care.
Jill claims she was convinced she had to help the children after her extended interview with them. In the presence of their father, he would read the Koran aloud while the children talked to Jill about the abuse, which included being put into suitcases and beaten. On one occasion, she witnessed their mother bringing them for a mandated weekend visit with their father, who was waiting in a car outside with another man. When the children saw him, they ran in all different directions, screaming that they did not want to go with him. The father then called the police and because of the court ordered documentation, the police had no choice but to chase the children through the streets and force them into the car with their father. Jill said that one of the policemen commented that the event should have been video tapped and presented to a judge. At that time the children were ages four, five and six.
Bereft and distraught with grief over the loss of her son, Danielle requested that Islam's father not be present at the funeral but to be permitted to visit the mosque at a private time. The same judge who ordered the dreaded visitation said he would put in an order to suspend visitation with the other two children. However, a new judge stepped in to take over the case and said the father would be allowed full participation in the funeral.
Danielle also stated that she wants the memory of her son to mean something. She wants the court to be held accountable, so that the tragedy of Islam's life and his death will inspire others into action, in order to protect other children from the same fate. She said the judges and the courts had all the information before them. "They must be exposed because they dropped the ball and now my son is dead."
Those wishing to help can send tax-deductible donations toward desperately needed funeral expenses to Strengthen Our Sisters, marking the envelope "Islam Fund" and send to POB U, Hewitt, NJ. People wishing further information or who wish to share their own stories can contact the Circle of Life Organization at 908-362-9526 or Strengthen Our Sisters at 973-728-0777 and ask for Sandra Ramos.
Jeremy Celentano 14-month-old
For 14-month-old Jeremy Celentano, nearly every day of life was a struggle.
Born addicted to cocaine and heroin, he was cared for in foster homes for the first year of his life as he recovered from the drugs. Friends hoped his fortunes would change for the better after his father won custody in July.
Instead, Jeremy is dead - beaten so brutally his skull was split. And charged with murder is his father, Darren Celentano of Paterson, described by authorities as a hardworking, steadfast man who apparently exploded in rage under the pressures of parenthood.
Meanwhile, the boy's death has prompted yet another internal review at the state Division of Youth and Family Services, which had been monitoring him. A DYFS official contended Friday that his agency had argued against the boy being turned over to his father.
Celentano, 28, of Grand Street, is under suicide watch at St. Mary's Hospital in Passaic, Passaic County Prosecutor James Avigliano said Friday. He was arrested late Thursday, and Avigliano said Celentano gave authorities a confession on videotape.
Jeremy, suffering from several physical ailments, would not stop crying on Monday, police said Celentano told them. The father lost his temper, police said, and allegedly pounded the boy with closed fists until he stopped breathing.
Jeremy suffered a fracture across the top of the skull, and a smaller one in the back of his head. He also had bruises and cuts on his face and head, including a black eye, according to the prosecutor.
"The father completely lost it," said Avigliano, visibly upset by the autopsy photos. "He just went berserk."
Instead of dialing 911, Celentano initially called his mother, who had routinely helped him care for the boy, and told her what he had done, Avigliano said. Celentano then brought Jeremy's lifeless body to St. Joseph's Regional Medical Center in Paterson, the prosecutor continued, and the staff there called authorities on Tuesday morning. Avigliano declined to say how long the boy had been dead before he was brought to the hospital, or what the circumstances were surrounding his arrival at St. Joseph's.
Celentano was remorseful, Avigliano said, and his distraught behavior during and after his statement prompted authorities to make sure he was placed at St. Mary's for observation.
Little is known about Jeremy's mother, whose name has not been released. Authorities said she was a drug addict, and because of her severe addiction Jeremy had been turned over for state care at birth. But Darren Celentano petitioned the family court for custody several months ago.
He won his case on July 26 when a state judge in Paterson turned the boy over to him. Those court records remained sealed on Friday. Leah Bourne, the attorney who represented Jeremy's mother in family court, declined to comment Friday, saying only, "I'm sorry. We can't help you."
Darren Celentano could be arraigned on a charge of murder as early as Monday, authorities said. If found guilty, he would face 30 years to life in prison. Celentano has had no past run-ins with the law, according to state criminal records.
Because the boy had been under DYFS care, Andy Williams, a spokesman for the state Department of Human Services, said the child welfare agency will do its own review of his death.
DYFS records show, Williams said, that the state did not want Jeremy turned over to his father, but it lost that bid in court. Williams said the agency "didn't feel he was ready" to care for Jeremy, who had been in foster homes for medically fragile children.
"Our long-term goal was to reunify the child with the father," Williams said. "But we didn't feel he was ready to handle the child alone."
He said DYFS asked that the father undergo a psychiatric evaluation, but that the court felt otherwise, given Celentano's upstanding background.
Celentano was receiving a monthly stipend to care for Jeremy as well as some in-home care services. Since the summer, DYFS workers said, they had visited once a month and reported nothing irregular. Sept. 12 was the last in-home visit. Jeremy died before an October visit was scheduled.
Jeremy's death follows several recent reports urging further change in the way the state cares for at-risk children.
DYFS came under fire in January 2003 when the body of 7-year-old Faheem Williams, whose family was under the agency's supervision, was discovered in Newark. A state report later found that nearly a year before his body was found in a basement, a DYFS caseworker and her supervisor closed his case without making contact with him. The caseworker had more than 100 children under her care.
The Williams case accelerated an overhaul of child welfare, including the state's pledge to lower caseloads by hiring more workers, improving training and revamping the way cases are managed and closed. But just this week in a report, advocates said more work needs to be done.
Neighbors and friends described Celentano as a quiet, considerate man who worked long hours. At one point, he told them he was working two jobs, but did not talk about his work, the neighbors said.
Jeremy's mother would show up at the Grand Street apartment building where she used to live with Celentano. Just Saturday, she stopped by the Laundromat next door to leave two plastic bags full of shoes, jeans and other items, said Gregorio Sanchez, a Laundromat employee and friend of Celentano's. Neighbors did not know her name.
"She left them here with me and said she'd come back in an hour, but she never did," Sanchez said.
Sanchez and others said she and Celentano separated several months ago.
Celentano's landlady, who asked that her name not be published, described an ideal tenant who seldom made noise, paid his rent punctually and kept a tidy living space.
In the period between having dropped his son off at the hospital and his eventual arrest, Celentano apparently returned home.
"He was so upset when he came down to the Laundromat to talk to me that night," his landlady said. "He said, 'My baby died today and I just can't cry anymore.' He seemed very depressed."
She said news that Celentano had been charged with the boy's death was hard to fathom. To those who knew him, Celentano seemed to relish fatherhood: Often he took his son for rides in his red Ford Explorer or played with him outside the apartment building, neighbors said.
"You don't know how happy he was when he got custody from the court," the landlady said.
But Avigliano said Celentano found himself alone and overwhelmed.
"He was trying to do what he later found was impossible for him," Avigliano said.
Alberta fires social worker, promises changes, after baby deaths
An unnamed Alberta social work supervisor has been fired after an investigation into the deaths of twin baby girls.
The three-month-old twins were in the custody of their grandfather, who was driving them from northern Alberta to Ontario. The grandfather, Jerome Kerrigan, has been charged with criminal negligence causing death.
The report says the girls should never have been transferred into Kerrigan's care. The review panel found there was no formal investigation done into Kerrigan's suitability as a parent, in spite of the fact the province was turning over three children into his care. Two of those children, Shaniece and Angel Kerrigan-Kinahan, died in a motel room in Thunder Bay, Ont. halfway through a cross-country road trip in January. The report does not deal with how the infants died. Instead it examines how Kerrigan was given custody and why his travel plans weren't scrutinized.
Kerrigan, was driving the children from Slave Lake, Alberta, to their new home in Ontario when his car broke down. It was a cold night, and there was no heat in the car.
Kerrigan says he bundled up the babies and waited three hours for a tow truck to arrive. It took another two hours to get to Thunder Bay, where Kerrigan got a motel room. He then gave the babies a hot bath, fed them each a bottle, and put them to bed. The next morning, a motel employee found the twins in the room. Kerrigan was charged with criminal negligence.
Iris Evans, Alberta's minister of children's services, lays most of the blame on the social work supervisor who agreed to the arrangements.
"The supervisor demonstrated serious errors in judgment and failed to meet a reasonable standard of performance. Her actions reflected a significant departure from what would be expected of a prudent social worker in these circumstances," said Evans.
A second social worker on the case will be forced to take retraining.
The investigation also found policy changes are needed in the area of private guardianship where a relative steps in to take care of children in foster care.
Evans says 15 changes will be made to the rules to ensure guardians are better screened. But the findings don't appease Alberta's opposition parties.
Both Liberals and the New Democrats say too much blame is being directed at front line workers, and not enough at the minister in charge.
Nixzmary Brown 7-year-old
The Tragic Death of Nixzmary Brown
How can we fix the system that failed her?
The tragic child abuse death of 7-year-old Nixzmary Brown has grabbed the headlines. According to the New York Daily News, her case is made all the more horrible because ACS (Administration for Children's Services) had received two reports about her, had investigated once, and had dismissed charges of child abuse.
The article quotes Mayor Bloomberg as describing Nixzmary's death as a "great tragedy." He also said that ". . . Overall, ACS does a very good job." I suspect that he's right. The mayor seems to be indicating that he does not plan to make ACS an easy political scapegoat, but intends a thorough and intelligent investigation.
"Heads Will Roll!"
This is a tragic and emotional case. Public sentiment will be running high; some people will be calling for blood. In view of the suffering, it may seem strange to be calling for calm. But that is what we need. We need to channel our anger and outrage into a grim determination for real answers and real improvements.
With emotions running high, officials may feel pressured into establishing a political scapegoat -- fire someone publicly, satisfy the people, the media loses interest, and nothing really changes. We have to resist that. We need to tell the mayor and other officials that we have the desire and the patience for a real investigation -- one that asks tough questions, provides some real answers, and faces unpleasant facts.
As officials investigate how the system failed the little girl, I offer some questions we should insist on getting answers to.
Case Load
We all agree that New York City is a pretty big place. So the first question is, how many people does ACS have on the job? Don't be satisfied with a total; ask for details. How many investigators, how many case workers, does ACS have on the streets? Do caseworkers do investigations and case management, or are they separate tasks? How much training do new caseworkers get? How much training does ACS wish they could get?
Second question: how many active cases is ACS investigating? Again, insist on details. How many new reports of abuse does it receive in a month? How many ongoing cases do they have to keep up on? How many are quick checks and how many are involved and time-consuming? What is the average number of cases that each caseworker has to handle per week?
Usually, when you do some simple math, you find that each caseworker has a ridiculous number of cases to fit into a regular workweek. But we're not done! Child abuse is one of most under-reported crimes in the world. Get some experts to make some informed estimates on how many unreported child abuse cases exist in New York City, and think about how to factor that into the caseworkers' workload.
After we consider all of those numbers, then we can reflect on how likely it is that every child abuse report will get the kind of attention it deserves.
The Reporting Network
In the case of Nixzmary Brown, it appears that the reporting network functioned adequately, because ACS received two reports on her situation. But as the case is investigated, we need to find out the quality of the reporting network.
How well trained are the Mandated Reporters? Does everyone know what to look for, and what to do when they see something? We also need to take a good look at the two reports received by ACS. How detailed were they? How much information was in them? Did they convey the urgency of the situation, or were they unclear or vague enough to get buried under a pile of other paperwork?
We should also look into the number of reports. Should there have been more than two? Did other people see signs of abuse and not know how to report it? And if ACS had received more than two reports, would it have improved their response?
Don't get me wrong -- two reports should have been plenty. But we're talking about one of the biggest cities in the world, with dozens of unique challenges and a perpetual shortage of funding. Improving the reporting network, educating the average citizen on how to report, might be a low-cost way of building some safeguards into the system. After all, medical examiners said Nixzmary's abuse had gone on for years. If ACS had received ten or twenty reports, each from a different source, it might have helped.
The Investigation
Child welfare authorities had dismissed charges of abuse against Nixzmary's parents. Let's get details about the investigation. We have already discussed case load and training factors. So how many people investigate a report of abuse? How experienced were they, and how much training had they received? Who did they talk to?
According to the New York Daily News, Nixzmary was learning English. If the investigators interviewed Nixzmary's mother, could the mother speak English? If not, did the investigators have access to qualified interpreters? How did the investigators feel about the quality of the investigation at the time?
Legal Considerations
We also need to inquire about the authority of the ACS investigators. How much power do they have? Is it enough? How far can they push an investigation against an uncooperative parent? If search warrants or anything similar are required, how easy are they to obtain? The Daily News reports that Nixzmary's stepfather had a previous assault charge. Do ACS investigators receive adequate protection when they investigate a complaint?
What about the burden of proof ACS investigators have to meet? Is it reasonable, or is the bar set too high? Do the ACS workers have suggestions on changes that would make the system work more smoothly? Is there a weak point or bottleneck somewhere in the system that we could identify and address?
Army Benefits
Remember, some years ago, when there was a rash of shootings at Post Office locations? The term "going postal" has entered our vocabulary, even though subsequent studies have shown that post offices are statistically safer than the average workplace.
I mention this because the Daily News reports that Nixzmary's stepfather is an Army veteran. This is not the first time I have heard of child abuse or domestic violence crimes committed by Army veterans, especially those who were in combat. So we need to ask. Are Army veterans really more likely to commit these crimes, or is it another "postal" thing where reality is different from the perception?
I don't know a whole lot about this subject, but I have seen a few statistics that indicate that our country does a very poor job of taking care of the men and women who have risked their lives for us. If the statistics support the perception, then how can we work with the military to address it?
Covering the Boroughs
As we said, New York City is a big place. How is ACS organized to cover the city? Does Nixzmary's Bed-Stuy neighborhood receive the same level of service as all of the rest? Again, insist on facts and numbers, not perceptions and opinions. Try to quantify things as much as possible. If Bed-Stuy is under-served, then by how much? And what will it take to fix things?
Progress, not scapegoating
These are only some of the questions that need to be asked in this investigation. The most important thing is to insist on an intelligent, in-depth report, not a superficial cover story or blame game. There is going to be a tendency to point fingers at ACS. There is going to be a tendency for ACS to become defensive. But what we need right now is for everyone to work together. We need strong leadership to keep everyone focused on cooperating to improve things.
If we let them, some of the best information, and some of the most important suggestions and ideas, will come from the ACS workers themselves. They have the experience and expertise; they have been committed to helping children long before it was fashionable. Work with them, not against them.
Beyond the headlines
In the final analysis, if we have to blame anyone beyond the perpetrators, we all have to accept responsibility. Our country does a poor job of protecting our children. It is not a high priority for our society. Child safety workers have to contend with public indifference, low status, low pay, unreasonable workloads, and few resources.
Now, as we watch the reporting on Nixzmary Brown's wake, remember how you feel. As time passes, and media interest fades, remember her name. Remember how strongly you feel that "something" should be done. Remember it as the investigation continues. Remember it as people try to go for easy answers instead of fundamental change. Remember it as politicians begin to court you for your vote. Remember Nixzmary Brown and remember that there are too many other kids just like her, and remember that they all deserve justice.
Nixzmary Brown's tragic death
Author: Bill Davis (bdavis@cpusa.org ) is a retired member of Social Service Employees Union Local 371.
When 7-year-old Nixzmary Brown was killed in Brooklyn, N.Y., on the 11th of January, it was certainly a tragedy waiting to happen. It was also certain that some of the workers involved in the case would be suspended or fired. Less certain was a reorganization of the agency. This time all three occurred.
Perhaps it is because Nixzmary's was the third death of a child with a case in Brooklyn's Bedford-Stuyvesant child welfare office in recent weeks. This pattern of deaths and the particular brutality Nixzmary suffered produced a flurry of media attention.
New York Mayor Bloomberg announced Jan. 24 "a series of new initiatives," allocating more funds for children's protective services, creating or renaming several positions in his administration, "increasing supervision of child welfare workers," and providing more training for staff and services for families in need of help. Another 325 child protective workers will be hired, in addition to 200 said to be in training already. The mayor had already reversed plans to gut the Administration of Children's Service's (ACS) budget by a total of $60 million over the current and next fiscal years.
ACS Press Secretary Sheila Stainback said that although there have been cuts in the overall ACS budget in the last four years, the child protective budget has increased. She also said that since there is no civil service list for child protective workers, the new workers will be hired provisionally. The ACS web page lists openings for lawyers, technical workers, administrators and managers, but none for child protection workers.
The Bedford-Stuyvesant child welfare office that had Nixzmary's case has missed out on what many say were previous improvements in the agency. Workers within the agency and staff of Social Service Employees Union Local 371 of AFSCME, the union representing the workers, describe an office in a crisis of understaffing, big caseloads and high rates of new referrals, insufficient staff training, and low morale. While total referrals for child protective services fell, failure to replace workers has reduced child protection workers by about 10 percent in the last four years, and caseloads have risen. These long-standing problems have produced a high turnover of workers in the Brooklyn office, and slower responses to referrals.
The field director of the Brooklyn office had been promoted into management rather than fired from his entry-level child protective specialist job when it was discovered that he lacked the required college degree. A Local 371 staffer who has had little success defending workers hired without the degree said, "He must have a friend." (Last month the agency finally fired the field director for falsifying records of another child who died.)
The Bedford-Stuyvesant office covers an area whose residents are victims of racism, poverty, poor health care and deteriorated housing, as well as the related social and economic conditions. All these problems cause higher rates of drug and alcohol abuse, more domestic violence and other ills. Certainly only a small fraction of Bedford-Stuyvesant families are abusive, but even that number overwhelmed the understaffed, poorly managed office.
Part of the mayor's initiative is to "redirect $9 million in existing preventive funding this fiscal year to preventive programs for communities most in need." Bloomberg did not explain how much will go to Bedford-Stuyvesant, which is widely known to be a community "most in need," or how other areas will make up for funds redirected away from them.
A question which comes up in these situations is why no one ? no family friend, neighbor or relative ? reported the abuse even though they knew of or suspected it. Part of the reason is that the arm of the government with which the community is most familiar is the police, who many residents feel act more like an occupying army than a force to "serve and protect." Given that, another of the mayor's initiatives ? hiring "20 seasoned law enforcement professionals . who will enhance the investigatory practice in the ACS field offices" ? is unlikely to stimulate more child protective reports from concerned citizens.
There are no mayoral initiatives to improve housing, health care or education in Bedford Stuyvesant, or to provide good jobs, or meet the other needs of the community. This is why many people consider the mayor's fix-it plan to be "rearranging the deck chairs on the Titanic." The next death has already happened. Quachon Browne, a 4-year-old known to Child Welfare Services, died of head and liver injuries in a cold two-room apartment on the 30th of January.
Bill Davis (bdavis@cpusa.org ) is a retired member of Social Service Employees Union Local 371.
Michael Segarra 2-month-old
ACS says the family was being monitored, but did not say why.
Meanwhile, police are investigating the death of another child in Brooklyn, also from a family with a history on record at the Administration for Children's Services.
The 2-month-old-baby was found unconscious in his crib by a neighbor. Neighbors tell say Michael Segarra's mother was asleep in the apartment at the time.
"He was cold and blue and stiff as a board," said neighbor Monique Whitfield. "So I told Melissa, -Come check the baby.' She said, -You check the baby.' I said, -I just did. I pulled the cover back; his body's not moving. Come check the baby.' She got up and she checked him, she started screaming. I start screaming."
The baby was rushed to Brookdale Hospital but died before he got there. The Medical Examiner is working to determine the cause of death.
ACS says the family was being monitored, but did not say why. At this time, there there are no accusations of wrongdoing.
Kristen Tatar 4-year-old
Girl Found In Cooler
Dead Girl's Mother Accused Before
Kristen Tatar, 4, died of malnutrition and dehydration, according to the Armstrong County coroner.
Team 4 has uncovered new information about Tatar's mother, Janet Crawford, who is charged with killing the girl. It turns out this is not the first time Crawford has been accused of neglecting a child.
Janet Crawford has three other daughters by a previous marriage. Two years ago, she lost custody of those children after repeated complaints that she was neglecting them.
Kristen Tatar was in and out of foster homes for much of her brief life, but court documents obtained by Team 4 reveal she had three half-sisters who also suffered from her mother's neglect.
Crawford was awarded joint custody of her three other daughters after she divorced Robert Crawford in 1997, but her ex-husband filed an emergency petition for custody in February 1999.
Robert Crawford said one of their daughters had missed 45 days of school and Janet Crawford had not sought appropriate medical evaluation or care for the young girl. Also, he alleged all three children were forced to sleep on the floor at Janet Crawford's house. The judge awarded the father custody of the girls during the school year.
In July 2001, a court-appointed lawyer for the children filed an emergency petition saying Janet Crawford allowed her 15-year-old daughter to have sex with a boyfriend at her house. Another daughter complained of swearing and arguing between Janet Crawford and Kristen Tatar's father, James.
The petition said Janet Crawford was neglectful and was not providing proper parental supervision, care and control. It also said there were incidents of domestic violence and anger in the home.
A judge gave the father temporary custody. In November 2001, the judge awarded the father sole custody of the three children.
But during that same period, as the judge was removing the three girls from Janet Crawford's care, the Westmoreland County Children's Bureau was allowing Crawford to get them back from foster parents -- despite complaints from foster parents that the girl was suffering while with her mother.
Lori Weimer, Kristen's former foster mother: "There needs to be major changes made. One thing they need to do, they need to start listening to the foster parents."
The Children's Bureau says it cannot comment on Kristen Tatar's case because of privacy rules.
The state Department of Public Welfare will investigate the agency's handling of Kristen Tatar. By law, the report must be completed in the next three months.
Judith Eva Barsi 10-year-old
Judith Barsi, child actress and victim...
June 6, 1978 - July 25, 1988
Judith and Maria were murdered brutally because the California CPS and Social Work department failed them! They had an overload of more than twice the recommended number of cases at the time. The system will always be flawed, but it won't always fail!
Judith Eva Barsi was an American child actress and a victim of a murder-suicide.
Judith was the daughter of Hungarian immigrants Jozsef Barsi and Maria Benko, who had both fled the 1956 Soviet occupation of Hungary and then emigrated to Los Angeles, California shortly before Judith was born. Her mother dreamt of her becoming an actress, as she once made an effort to do so for herself. When Judith was five years old, she was "discovered" at a skating rink. Looking younger than she was, she was mistaken for a three-year-old. She went on to appear in over 70 commercials and soon appeared in films.
As Judith became more famous, her father Jozsef, an alcoholic and unemployed plumber, became increasingly abusive and paranoid. He would mentally abuse Judith and once held a knife to her throat while threatening to kill her, for he was convinced that his wife and daughter would leave for a photo shoot or movie shoot and never come back. Jozsef would often stay home drunk and refused to let Maria work. The family was on welfare for a brief period until Judith's career started taking off in around 1986. By the time she entered fourth grade, she was earning an estimated $100,000 a year which helped her buy the family a four-bedroom house in West Hills, California.
Jozsef continued to remain a recluse and threatened to kill his wife and daughter hundreds of times. Child Protective Services was called numerous times. Maria rented an apartment for her and Judith as a daytime safe haven away from her father. However, on July 25, 1988, Jozsef entered Judith's bedroom and shot her in the head before shooting his wife. He then drenched the bodies in gasoline and set the house on fire before finally shooting himself in the garage.
Judith and her mother were buried in an unmarked grave at the Forest Lawn Hollywood Hills Cemetery in Los Angeles. On June 2004, a fund was set up to get them headstones for their graves. Judith's marker was placed on August 23, 2004 while one for her mother was placed on January 28, 2005. Future donations will go toward donating Beanie Babies to hospitalized children. Judiths marker reads "Our Concrete Angel - Yep Yep Yep" in referance to a popular song and her character Ducky's catchphrase from The Land Before Time. Her mother's marker reads "The wind beneath Judith's wings - Yep Yep Yep".
Holly Grace Lockard 23-month-old
I hope little Holly can rest in peace.
The "baby killer" did it, and he'll spend "life" in prison thinking about it.
A jury found James Robinson guilty of murdering his stepdaughter Friday after listening to four days of testimony.
"I hope little Holly can rest in peace," Assistant Commonwealth's Attorney Elizabeth Burchett emotionally said after the jury handed down the verdict and recommended a life sentence.
Circuit Judge Eddy Coleman closed the courtroom to the media and family members Friday morning, after Robinson caused a disturbance as he was being transported from the jail to the courtroom. Witnesses said it took six to eight deputies to get him under control.
Coleman told media representatives that Robinson didn't "need an audience."
Before the delayed proceedings began, Coleman ordered deputies to remove the jury from the courtroom if Robinson created problems again. When it was time for the penalty phase, Robinson verbally resisted being shackled to his chair in the courtroom. He gripped and pushed his chair toward the bailiff, telling him to get out of his way.
"What makes them think that I'm guilty of anything?" Robinson asked his attorney, Melissa Goodman, when he was given the opportunity to make a statement on his behalf after the verdict was handed down and the jurors were preparing to decide how much time he should serve. He said he was innocent.
The jury deliberated for more than two hours, pondering whether Robinson was innocent or guilty of murder, second-degree manslaughter, reckless homicide or complicity for each of those three charges.
The last words prior to deliberations from both the prosecution and defense painted bleak pictures of the life of 23-month old Holly Grace Lockard, who was murdered on November 2, 2005.
This week, the evidence has shown that Lockard sustained at least 26 bruises on her face, head and neck, two skull fractures, a broken arm and two broken wrists. Some of the injuries had healed or partially healed, indicating that the abuse occurred over a period of time. Kentucky Medical Examiner Christen Roth said she died because of inter-cranial bleeding, a secondary condition of blunt force trauma or shaken baby syndrome. The baby had been given Xanax and phenegren.
Attorney Melissa Goodman, blamed the child's mother, Amber Robinson, who is currently serving a life sentence for murder. She confessed to the crime and talked about it this week in court and a deputy, who spent time with her during the delivery of her last child, testified that Amber Robinson said she was going to take the fall for her husband.
Amber Robinson wanted to get an abortion when she was pregnant with Holly, Goodman said, and James Robinson, who has paid child support since he was 16, wanted to adopt the child.
Jurors heard testimony this week from a witness who saw Amber Robinson grabbing and jerking the child in 2005.
Goodman described both Holly and her sister Haley, the daughter of James Robinson, as "Daddy's babies," a term Amber Robinson used when described her husband. Goodman also reminded the jury that Amber Robinson said she "flew off the handle" and beat the child.
Referring to the prosecution's argument that Holly was abused over a period of time, Goodman told jurors that no evidence indicated that Robinson ever hit the child. She outlined the months prior to the murder to explain how busy Robinson was, dealing with the death of two family members - one that occurred the day after the couple got married. She also told the jurors about the people who saw Holly Lockard in the weeks and months before the murder.
Burchett pointed at those people when she described how the system failed Holly Lockard. Social service offices in South Carolina and Kentucky failed Holly Lockard, she said, explaining a long list of things that could have prevented the murder. That list included Robinson's decision to bring Amber Robinson and the children from South Carolina to Kentucky, against social services orders and the fact that Lisa Blevins "faked" a urine test to trick the social services. If only someone in Pike County district court would have noticed, Burchett said, that the child was "limp as a rag doll" on the day she was killed, if only Robinson hadn't drugged her, if only Amber Robinson hadn't gone to school and left the child alone with her stepfather.
Burchett told the jury that Robinson's father, Frank Robinson, who was kicked out of the courtroom earlier this week because he talked to a juror, manipulated Amber Robinson so that his son could get away with murder.
She said Amber Robinson was "dumb as a rock" and Frank Robinson, whom she called "the architect," convinced her to take the fall for his son. Frank Robinson paid attorney Robby Wright $10,000, Burchett said, and she pleaded guilty, without a plea bargain and without going over the discovery or the evidence in the case. Amber Robinson, who "richly deserves" her life sentence, thought she was getting 10 to 12 years, Burchett said.
Frank Robinson, who had 20 years of experience as a deputy coroner, called "his life-long friend and lodge brother" Mike Hall, and not the police, when Holly Lockard died, Burchett said, because he thought Hall would declare that she died from natural causes. He manipulated Amber Robinson by keeping funds for her at the jail and by bringing her daughter over to see her every weekend at the detention center. Regardless of the jury's verdict, Amber Robinson will not see her daughter again, Burchett said.
Burchett called James Robinson the "baby killer," and explained that he didn't want Holly Lockard or his wife, who he married, she said, because she was pregnant. To Robinson, the child and his wife were "extra baggage," Burchett said.
Before finally closing, Burchett held up a family portrait that the defense used to portray the "happy family."
"Look at the baby's face," she said. "Is she happy? She's terrified. She's sitting in this picture with a broken arm and the beating that's going to end her life is about to occur."
Even though Goodman officially expressed her disappointment in the jury's verdict and sentence recommendation, Goodman said they were dedicated and took the case seriously.
"At the end of the day, there is no good resolution anyway," she said, "cause little Holly Lockard did lose her life."
Robinson will be formally sentenced on March 16.
Maria Colwell 7-year-old
Maria Colwell died on 6th January 1973, aged 7.
Maria, removed from her mother's care due to neglect, had been living happily with an aunt after her father's death, but was returned to her mother at the mother's request. Despite warnings of abuse, and 30 calls to social services from neighbours, she was left in a violent household. One neighbour reported the child being hit for being dirty, and saw her at a window with a blackened face "and one eye just a pool of blood." The neighbour asked NSPCC and Social Services: "What protection does a child have against her parents? Does she have to be killed before they take her away?" In Maria's case the answer was yes. Maria was taken to hospital in a pram, after being beaten by her stepfather the night before. She was found to be dead on arrival. She had 2 bruised eyes, bruising on neck, back, arms and legs, severe internal injuries and brain damage. Her stomach was empty.
Lauren Wright 6-year-old
A life of abuse and neglect -'Ineffective' authorities failed to protect Lauren
Incompetence on the part of social services and other professional staff meant Lauren Wright, the six-year-old girl killed by her abusive stepmother and father last year, failed to receive proper protection from the authorities, an inquiry has found.
The inquiry, by the Norfolk area child protection committee (ACPC) - which took evidence from social workers and other professionals - said inter-agency coordination was "ineffective" and social workers had not acted with "due urgency".
"Staff of all agencies in Norfolk involved with Lauren Wright missed opportunities to make sense of and interpret Lauren Wright's circumstances in the light of her current and previous experiences," said the report.
Lauren's father Craig Wright and stepmother Tracey were found guilty today of manslaughter and of wilfully neglecting Lauren. The girl died when her stepmother struck her stomach so violently that her digestive system collapsed.
Postmortem tests showed the child had 60 bruises on her body, including marks made by hard objects, possibly a stick.
Gillian Shephard, Conservative MP for Norfolk south-west, which covers the village of Welney, Norfolk, where Lauren was abused and killed, called for a full public inquiry into her death.
Ms Shephard said: ""What happened to her happened in full view of those agencies that should have been responsible for her care and the public deserves to be told why."
Norfolk social services department admitted it made serious mistakes and chances to save Lauren were missed. One social services manager has already left the department as a result of the case.
David Wright, Norfolk's director of social services, admitted that his department had made "wrong" decisions, but argued this was a "clear case of human error"
He also blamed a national recruitment shortage and the pressures faced by social workers.
"How can we protect vital workers from becoming so battle-weary in dealing with these impossible situations that their judgment becomes impaired?"
Children's charity the NSPCC said the case was one of the most disturbing it had seen and lessons had to be learned. "Social services, health and education professionals, and many relatives, neighbours and other villagers - saw the warning signs. Yet, despite their concerns, too little was done to protect [Lauren Wright]."
The ACPC inquiry found that coordination of the case by social services was ineffective and the opportunity to fully assess Lauren Wright's situation was "weakened by not acting with due urgency on referrals or calling a child protection conference."
Marian Brandon, a senior lecturer in social work at the University of East Anglia in Norwich, analysed all the evidence given to the child protection committee's inquiry and compiled an overview report.
Her report says that at no time during the course of this case was consideration given to the convening of a multi-agency meeting.
The report adds: "There is no doubt that the social services department should have called a child protection conference in March 2000.
"At this time social services, health and education were becoming increasingly concerned that Lauren was failing to thrive and that she may have been experiencing abuse at home.
"The failure to convene a child protection conference at this stage was a crucial omission."
The report made a series of recommendations - the main one being that professionals in any child care agency should challenge decisions that do not accord with their professional judgment.
"All responsible staff must on receipt of new information indicating child protection concerns ensure that it is dealt with urgently," added the report.
Many people in Welney knew there was something wrong with the little girl from No 9 Chestnut Avenue. The neighbours opposite noticed Lauren Wright, 6, was thinner and paler than her half brother and sister, and they had heard the way her stepmother shouted at her.
Teachers at her school had seen the bruises on her legs and noted how quiet she was. Neighbours thought it was strange that her arms and legs were always covered up, even in summer. Everybody could see that her stepmother treated her differently to the other kids.
Lauren was found dead in an upstairs room at No 9 on May 6 last year. Her digestive system had fatally collapsed after a punch to the stomach from Tracey Wright, her stepmother. Her systematic brutality had left the dead child's emaciated frame covered with more than 60 bruises. The people of Welney were shocked, but they were not surprised.
Nor were social services. Social workers from Norfolk and Hertfordshire and two doctors had visited Lauren after anonymous calls from neighbours. Despite this, Lauren was left in the care of the woman who killed her.
The Wrights - Lauren, her father Craig, a car mechanic, and his mother Christine - arrived in Welney, a Fenland village of 300 people on the Norfolk-Cambridgeshire border, in 1999. It seemed perfect for a fresh start.
Within six months Craig had married the girl next door, Tracey Scarff, 31, a dominant woman with a large extended family living locally. Her influence over Craig was enormous, and he and Lauren moved in with Tracey and her two children. So began a cycle of abuse that was to end nine months later with Lauren's death.
Even before she fell into the clutches of Tracey Wright, Lauren had a history of neglect at the hands of her natural mother. Lauren was born in Hertfordshire in 1993, the product of a short affair between Craig and Jennifer Bennett.
Craig Wright lived with his mother in the village of Three Holes, Norfolk, and had minimal contact with his daughter in her first three years. In 1997 Jennifer Bennett took Lauren on holiday to Turkey and left her there, leaving the British consulate to organise her return.
On her return, Lauren was placed on the child protection register in Hertfordshire, and in May 1997 Craig collected his daughter.
In January 1999, the Wright's moved to Welney. Lauren began attending the local school, William Marshall Primary, where there were 27 pupils, two full-time teachers and a lunchtime playground assistant, Tracey Scarff.
Craig meanwhile divided his time between work, the river bank, the pub and Tracey, leaving his mother to care for Lauren.
In July 1999, Craig and Tracey married and Lauren moved next door. At this point, Tracey's abuse of her stepdaughter began. Craig, according to neighbours, was never home long enough to notice.
A succession of witnesses told Norwich crown court about Lauren's deteriorating health. She was regularly bruised on the face and legs, injuries that Tracey Wright explained with barely credible excuses.
Most disturbingly she said Lauren was being bullied at school and named another child as the bully. It seems that her word as playground assistant was not challenged by the school authorities. There was also evidence of serious psychological abuse.
Throughout this time Craig's input was minimal. In the witness box he described his daily contact with his daughter. "Lauren was in bed when I got home from work at night, and she would just be getting up when I left in the morning."
One neighbour became so concerned that he anonymously called Norfolk social services, setting in chain a procedure that should have saved Lauren's life.
Norfolk social services initially acted promptly. Tracey and Christine were seen at home by two social workers. Lauren was interviewed at school and seen by a doctor.
The doctor did not think the injuries she had were consistent with the excuses given and an appointment with a paediatrician was made for the following day, March 15 2000. The paediatrician decided, however, that the injuries were consistent with Tracey Wright's explanations, and Lauren returned home to face yet more abuse.
"Tracey Wright is an extraordinarily persuasive, plausible person, and she managed to convince everyone that there was really nothing wrong with Lauren," said a Norfolk council employee with knowledge of the case.
At this time, amid concerns about the stepmother-daughter relationship, an appointment was made for Lauren and Tracey to see a family support worker on May 8. It turned out to be a fatal misreading of the situation. The senior social worker responsible for the fatal misjudgment has since resigned and is said to be suicidal.
On April 12 there was another anonymous call concerning Lauren's welfare, but no action was taken. Norfolk council has no explanation for this. Two weeks later two social workers from Hertfordshire visited Lauren in connection with another matter and became concerned, though no action was taken.
On May 2, Lauren failed to return to school for the start of term. Tracey said she had gastroenteritis.
Meanwhile, Lauren was lying at home, malnourished, bruised and a day away from death. Tracey Wright's son, speaking by video to the court, described the fatal blows. "The day Lauren died, I remember mum punching her in the belly two times. I was going to go to the toilet, and I see mummy punch her in the belly two times."
More than a year on from her death, Welney is still coming to terms with a tragedy that was played out semi-publicly in its midst.
"This whole village has got its head in the sand," said one inhabitant, who did not wish to be named. "Nobody wants to talk about what went on here, but they must have been blind in Chestnut Avenue if they did not see what was happening to that child. She was wandering round like a rag doll but they chose to say nothing."
Scotty Dwayne McCarter, Jr 13-year-old
Jun. 9, 1993 - May 25, 2006
Open Case with DYFS
Scotty D. McCarter, 12, was fatally shot by his father, Scott McCarter, 40, on May 25, 2006. His father also killed his mother, Wendy Carol Bennett McCarter, 35, and his sister, Melanie Rae, 6, before turning the gun on himself. At the time of the murders, McCarter was on trial on charges of molesting his teenaged stepdaughter (Wendy's daughter) and the girl's best friend. The bodies of the family were found the morning McCarter was supposed to take the stand in his own defense. Wendy's family found out about the murders as they waited in the courtroom for his trial to resume. Scotty was known as a rambunctious, active boy who loved the outdoors and sports. He was a student at Lakeside Middle School. He was so loved by his school, students were given a day off to mourn his loss. The elementary school Scotty had attended, Mount Pleasant Elementary School, dedicated a tree and a plaque to Scotty and his sister Melanie, who attended school there at the time of her death. The family's initial involvement with DYFS dated back to 2004, when DYFS substantiated that Mr. McCarter had sexually abused another child. The case remained active since that time and DYFS was regularly engaged with the McCarter children. In May, Mr. McCarter went on trial for the sexual abuse allegation. He failed to appear in court on May 25th. Instead, he apparently went to his children's home and shot them, killed their mother Wendy Bennett, then turned the gun on himself.
The deaths of Sean, Melanie, Scotty and Ms. Bennett have brought into sharp focus the connection between domestic violence and child welfare. At DYFS, we have the responsibility to ensure children's safety. To guide our efforts in the context of family violence, we recently hired Jane Sweeney, one of the state's most respected domestic violence experts, to join DCF and strengthen our collaboration with the 21 lead domestic violence agencies in each county. Jane and our executive staff are creating training and technical assistance for our DYFS field staff who encounter family violence every day and need to know how to access resources and sanctuary, navigate the legal system and ensure that children are safe.
Xavier Jones 21-month-old
Sep 8, 2004 - June 7,2006
Advocate clears DYFS in boy's death !?
The state Division of Youth and Family Services is not to blame for the death of a 21-month-old boy who swallowed a prescription drug he found in a closet of his foster mother's East Orange home last year, state Child Advocate E. Susan Hodgson said in a report released today.
But "there is evidence of missed opportunities by DYFS in planning for and supervising this child throughout his life,'' said Hodgson's report, the first she has issued since assuming the job in November.
Although his caseworker made the required monthly visits, an analysis of the confidential medical and child welfare records for Xavier Jones "do not reflect that the child's safety and well-being were thoroughly and accurately assessed,'' the report found.
With more scrutiny, the state could have determined that the foster's mother's adult daughter, a recovering addict, appeared to be living there, against DYFS' wishes, according to the report.
On June 3, Xavier swallowed his foster aunt's methadone, a drug most commonly used by someone trying to quit using heroin. He died June 7 after being removed from life support.
"Xavier's tragic death should be a lesson to all of us about the importance of seeking immediate medical attention whenever an emergency occurs," Hodgson said in a statement. "Xavier's death could have been prevented had his (foster) parent called poison control as soon as they discovered his symptoms.''
The report said the family waited 90 minutes before driving the boy to a hospital.
Hodgson also noted the state failed to communicate with the foster parent who accepted 50 children - some with disabilities - in her home between 1999 and 2006. "DYFS clearly over-utilized this (foster) home,'' the report said.
After the boy died, DYFS closed the foster home. The Essex County Prosecutor's Office charged the foster mother's adult daughter with child endangerment.
Jasmin Fink of Burlington County was born prematurely on January 20, 2006, and died a month later on February 27, 2006 due to Shaken Baby Syndrome. Jasmin's mother's former boyfriend, David Fink, has been charged in connection with the infant's death. DYFS had previously been involved with Jasmin's mother, prior to Jasmin's birth. DYFS had facilitated a formal, court-ordered transfer of custody of Jasmin's older sister to the maternal grandmother in September 2006, after several years of working with the family, and there were no remaining children in the custody of Jamin's mother when DYFS closed her case. DYFS was unaware that Jasmin's mother was pregnant when the case was closed in September. Jasmin's mother has indicated she was unaware she was pregnant until late August and did not tell the maternal grandmother until five days after Jasmin was born. Shortly after Jasmin's birth, the hospital sent a registered nurse to visit with the family on February 14, 2006. We understand the nurse met with the family, observed parenting behavior and described Jasmin's mother as nurturing and receptive to advice and support.
James Earl Bradley Jr 3-year-old
Child dies in foster home
Another Wayne County foster child -- the third in eight months -- died of trauma incurred at a state-licensed foster home, officials said Monday.
On April 8, 3-year-old James Earl Bradley Jr. of Detroit had seizures and a possible head injury in the master bedroom of his foster parents' home in Van Buren Township.
After being taken first to Annapolis Hospital in Wayne around 9:30 p.m. on April 8, the child was transferred by medical helicopter to Mott Children's Hospital at the University of Michigan in Ann Arbor. He remained on life support there until he died Friday evening, Township Police Detective Bob Greene said Monday.
Greene said results from an autopsy in Washtenaw County were not yet available, though doctors at U-M thought James might have been shaken, received a blunt-force injury to the head or both.
"We know that something happened to him, but we don't know what yet," Greene said.
The foster parents, identified through court records as Christine Woodward and Lasana Karva, were questioned by police after Woodward reported that she and her 15-year-old daughter had found James in distress on the floor of the master suite in the family's home on Sadie Lane outside Belleville, officials said.
Woodward reported that she had the flu and that James had watched television with her 10-year-old son before going to bed around 9 p.m. She and her daughter said they heard crying from the bedroom, went upstairs and found James having a seizure, Greene said.
Officials said Woodward has been a licensed day-care provider for the state for about 10 years. In November, she and her husband, Karva, became licensed foster parents through the Ennis Center for Children, based in Flint, Waterford and Detroit. James was their first foster child, state records show.
Woodward was licensed to have as many as four children in day care and two foster children at a time, state records say. Only James, the foster parents and their 15-year-old daughter and 10-year-old son were at home the night of April 8, Greene said.
On Friday, the Michigan Department of Human Services' Office of Children and Adult Licensing summarily suspended Woodward's day-care license and the couple's foster-care provider license, the DHS said in a news release. The release said the actions "resulted from a recent investigation of a complaint" at the home.
The couple could not be reached Monday.
Bob Ennis, president and CEO of the Ennis Center, said "the death of this youngster is affecting all of us."
"We're devastated that this happened," Ennis said. "We reviewed all of our records, and the state has been there to review our records, and we don't believe that we could have done anything to prevent this. We want the investigation to be completed and to find where the responsibility lies."
James and his seven siblings were placed in foster care in April 2006 after allegations that some of them had been sexually abused in their home, court records show. The biological family had a history with Child Protective Services dating to January 2005, the records say.
Two other young foster children have been killed in licensed foster homes in recent months. Isaac Lethbridge, 2, of Westland was fatally beaten in a Detroit foster home on Aug. 16, 2006. His foster mother is charged with involuntary manslaughter and child abuse.
Allison Newman, also 2, died Sept. 22 after being injured in the Canton Township home of her foster mother, who is jailed on charges of first-degree murder and child abuse.
The uncomfortable truth about the foster care system is that some children are left in the care of overworked, under-trained social workers who fail them. Mary Taylor, who runs the Court-Appointed Special Advocates Program in St. Louis has had some success in limiting the number of placements for children her program supervises.
Although Dominic Williams was not in the CASA program, after his death she wrote this to her volunteers: "I wonder who really knew him, how many case managers he had, how many places he lived, whether he ever knew his guardian ad litem. Sixteen years of foster case has to be a failure in everyone's eyes." It was a failure that left Dominic wandering his block of Queens Avenue, mumbling, "I just don't have anywhere to go."
Sex offender gets life sentence for killing teen
December 16, 2006 By Heather Ratcliffe
St. Louis ? A sex offender convicted of beating and strangling a 16-year-old boy to death in 2004 was sentenced Friday to life in prison without parole.
Andrew Roberson, 36, insisted he was not guilty even after St. Louis Circuit Judge Maggie Neill sentenced him for the first-degree murder of Dominic Williams.
"I'll fight this if it takes 20 years from now," Roberson said. He was convicted by a jury Nov. 2.
Williams, whose life and death became a symbol of problems with Missouri's foster care system, was found naked in a trash bin in the Mark Twain neighborhood five days before his 17th birthday in June 2004.
Roberson, who lived in Dominic's neighborhood of Walnut Park, strangled him with an extension cord and beat him with a pipe or similar object, according to prosecutors. He made incriminating statements to police and family, according to court testimony. Blood and the victim's DNA were found at his home.
Roberson had a prior history of violence against teenage boys. In 1986, he threatened a 14-year-old with a knife and sodomized him in the woods in Cool Valley. The next year he choked and sodomized a 15-year-old fellow inmate in the shower of the juvenile detention center in Clayton. He pleaded guilty in both cases and was sentenced to 15 years in prison.
Court records show that Roberson dropped out of school in 10th grade and has a history of psychological problems. His father, Winford L. Stokes Jr., was executed in Missouri in 1990 for strangling and stabbing a waitress he had met in a bar. Stokes was convicted in two other killings and claimed he had raped six women.
Dominic, the slain 16-year-old, lived a troubled life as well. He was born premature and drug-addicted in 1987 and removed from his mother by a judge seven months later because of medical neglect.
He suffered abuse and neglect as authorities shuffled him through a series of group and foster homes, including one with no heat or electricity, according to state records. He suffered hearing and neurological damage, was mildly retarded and had behavior problems including some that suggested he had been sexually abused.
Records also show the Missouri Department of Family Services failed to place him in six possible permanent homes, including with his paternal grandmother, who raised his older brother.
Dominic's last foster mother wrote a letter to the court Friday defending the state system.
"It was the selfish, heinous and down-right evil actions of Mr. Andrew Roberson that led to this child's death," said Anna Hall.
Annette House, assistant regional director for the Missouri Department of Social Service Children's Division, told the judge that more than 200 people ? friends, relatives, teachers, social workers and strangers ? attended Dominic's funeral.
"Two Dominics"
St. Louis Post-Dispatch
June 13, 2004 Editorial
TWO BOYS NAMED DOMINIC died in Missouri's foster care system three years apart. The death of two-year-old Dominic James at the hands of his foster father in Greene County in 2001 led to this year's foster care reform bill. But the reform effort didn't save Dominic Williams.
The high school freshman from the Walnut Park neighborhood in the city spent his entire life shuttling from one foster home to another before his naked body was found abandoned in a trash bin this month, just before his 17th birthday. He had been strangled. It's too soon to know all the specifics that set the stage for Dominic Williams' tragic death.
But the circumstances of his life illustrate the personal problems and systemic failures that confront many children in foster care. Dominic's mother neglected him from birth, leading to brain damage as an infant. His father is unknown. Dominic lived in eight different homes; no one wanted to adopt him.
His case file crossed the desk of no fewer than eight state case workers and nine court-appointed guardians. The last of the nine hadn't visited Dominic's home in the year he had the case. In meetings about him in the last year, no one in the system seemed to have an inkling that he was in danger. A sex offender in custody is a suspect in his murder.
On average, children in foster care have three different placements. The Pew Commission on Children in Foster Care recently concluded that children suffer damaging "turbulence and uncertainty" with lasting consequences from multiple placements.
One response to this is a lawsuit. The Washington Supreme Court ruled last year that foster children have a right to be free from the "unreasonable risk of harm," including harm from moving them indiscriminately. But it's one thing for a court to limit the number of placements for foster children and quite another to find the money and safe homes to care for them.
Erik Sturgis 5-Year-Old
Tragedy Strikes Family For Second Time
Fire Kills 5-Year-Old Boy 5 Years After His Mother Was Murdered
(CBS)SAYREVILLE A 5-year-old boy was killed in a fire this morning after the boy's father left the child alone while he went to work. Tragically, the boy's mother was the victim of a murder-suicide five years ago.
Erik Sturgis was found dead in a second floor bedroom of the family's home on Deerfield Road. Residents of the area are shocked.
"I seen smoke over there and I saw the house was on fire and I came inside and I dialed 911," said Sean O' Grady, the victim's friend.
O'Grady said he never realized the friend he loved to play football with was still inside when he called for help.
"If I knew he was in there I would have run in and got him," he said.
Police said Kevin Sturgis left for work around 8 a.m., leaving his five-year-old son home alone. The fire started a few hours later.
"It's very very sad for a young boy to take off like that and go to heaven," said neighbor Tom Butler.
This wasn't the family's first taste of tragedy. According to published reports, in 2001, the boy's mother and Kevin's ex-wife, 22-year-old Christina Sturgis, was killed by her 28-year-old boyfriend, James Hoehman, a Linden firefighter who later committed suicide.
At the time Kevin was left to provide sole custody of Erik.
Neighbor Mary O' Grady used to baby-sit Erik. She said his father was a good man who never left his son alone. She also said that Kevin was often caught between the responsibilities of his job at Wakefern Warehouse in South Brunswick and his son.
"If he took the day off because he didn't have a babysitter, they said they would fire him," O'Grady said. "His union was not behind him. And I totally blame the job."
Detectives said the boy's father was being questioned by prosecutors earlier Saturday. An autopsy is scheduled for Sunday.
Cynteria Phillips 13-year-old
Dec. 10, 1986 - Aug. 15, 2000
Dedicated to a 13-year-old girl who was abused as a child, neglected by the state and was raped and murdered.
My Story -- By Keona Wright
My name is Keona Wright and I live in Miami, FL. My best friend Cynteria Phillips was raped and beat to death when I was 13. She was 13 as well. I'm now 18. Her killer has yet to be found. She was a very joyful girl, but she died so humiliated.
Young Girl Defies Despair
It was 1998 when two 11-year-old girls first met in detention period at Miami's Norland Middle School. It was the beginning of a lifelong friendship, but for one of the girls, life would be tragically short. Now 18, Keona Wright still remembers vividly the day she first met Cynteria Phillips. Detention was held in a home economics room, and when the bell rang the two mischievous girls turned on all the stoves before scampering off to their classes.
Throughout the next two years, Keona and Cynteria formed a fast friendship. Though Cynteria had been terribly abused as a young child, her infectious smile and good-humored demeanor belied her adverse life and she never let on that she was troubled by anything. That day in 1998, the 11-year-old Keona Wright could not have grasped the brutality her new friend had already lived through. And she certainly could not have wrapped her head around what would happen to Cynteria.
Brutally Murdered And Discarded
In the end, Cynteria Phillips, met with the cruelest fate imaginable. On Aug. 15, 2000, her naked, lifeless body was found in an alley outside of Miami's Edison High School
It was evident that she had been brutally beaten and sexually assaulted. The 13-year-old girl had bruises all over her face and body -- even inside her mouth. A coroner determined that a blow to her head had been the cause of death, but so thoroughly had her killer, or killers, beaten her that the head blow seemed almost a formality.
A Troubled Life
Florida child welfare records show that Cynteria Kimberly Phillips was born Dec. 10, 1986 to drug-addicted parents. She was one of eight children born to her mother, and at the age of five, Cynteria and a younger sister were taken from their mother's home and placed with their father. That arrangement did not last long. State records show that the girls had been sexually abused. Cynteria had healed lacerations on her genitals and her sister was treated for syphilis.
Over the next seven years Cynteria was in and out of no less than eight foster families. In her first family, Cynteria seems to have found love and stability for two years, but the couple was forced to return her to the state when jobs dictated a lot of interstate travel. Tragically, Cynteria's next foster mother died months after her arrival. From then on, Cynteria never stayed anywhere long. Many times she carried her belongings cinched up in trash bags.
It all had a discouraging effect on Cynteria. She started acting out. One foster parent reported that as an eight year old, she was disturbingly sexual, a sign some psychologists say of early sexual abuse. Some of her foster parents reported that she was becoming increasingly intolerant of rules. Still, by all accounts, Cynteria was an affectionate, loving girl. Most who knew her believe that all she needed was consistent love and caring.
Cynteria's last address was Miami Bridge, a residential care facility for runaways. Many teenagers end up thriving in the structured environment there, but Cynteria kept running away. It seems that Cynteria's innocence or her sense of immortality led her to believe she did not need anyone's help, a mistake she would not recover from.
Some Guy Named "J"
Keona remembers that Cynteria stopped coming to school in January 2000. Several months later, Keona saw her good friend hanging out a Winn-Dixie. A few months later, Cynteria unexpectedly showed up at her house, but then she was gone again Keona last saw Cynteria on May 8, 2000, back at the Winn-Dixie.
For Cynteria the last seven months of her life were spent living as a runaway. She would sometimes stay with friends or relatives, but she was always moving on - looking for something elusive. Friends say she had a boyfriend in his 20's who they knew only as "J."
It's unclear when she last saw him. The seventh-grader was last seen alive August 14, 2000. At around 10:15 that night, she showed up at Miami Bridge inviting friends to a party. Again - no one is sure who invited her to the party, or what happened after she left Miami Bridge and headed for the party.
Cynteria was a very sociable, friendly girl. I know for a fact that there are people out there who know what happened to her. Someone somewhere knows the truth.
Joey Wallace 3-year-old
In Chicago in 1993, Amanda Wallace, a mentally ill woman, hung her 3-year-old son, Joey Wallace, with an extension cord after social workers returned him to her.
Cree Lynn Scott 10-month-old
Woman: DCFS was indifferent to warning -"It was like Cree Lynn just didn't matter."
FLORA - Linda Jones says child protection workers were hostile and indifferent when she tried to warn them that someone was abusing her step-granddaughter.
"They said, 'Don't you worry about this. This is none of your business,'" said Jones, a Flora beautician.
Jones said she made several calls to an Illinois Department of Children and Family Services child abuse caseworker at the field office in Olney concerning bruises she observed on the baby, Cree Lynn Scott.
On Aug. 24, 2000, the 10-month-old girl choked to death on tissue paper forced down her throat while her mother, Brandy Scott, attended a parenting class.
Jones said she made her last call to DCFS several hours before Cree Lynn's death.
Police charged Scott's boyfriend, Chad W. Jones, no relation to Linda Jones, with murder. He pleaded guilty to involuntary manslaughter and received five years in prison.
Chad Jones testified he placed the tissue paper in the little girl's mouth to stop her from crying but could not remove it before she suffocated.
The DCFS had required Scott to take parenting classes after an earlier finding that someone had physically abused Cree Lynn, according to a child death report by the department's Office of the Inspector General.
Linda Jones, who had already adopted two of Brandy Scott's older children, both girls, said she continued to observe bruising on Cree Lynn, even after a second probe.
"They would not listen," she said. "To me, they were more or less just protecting Brandy. They're supposed to be there to protect the child. It was like the baby wasn't even important."
Brandy Scott could not be reached for comment. A supervisor in the DCFS' Olney office declined to comment.
In the investigation of Cree Lynn's death, an investigator faulted the DCFS caseworker and her supervisor for "ethics" violations. After the first child abuse probe, a supervisor allowed Scott's former private therapist to become her DCFS caseworker.
Because of the prior relationship, "The caseworker accepted all of the mother's (claims) regarding substance abuse, employment and the baby's health, and neglected to verify information when obvious discrepancies arose," the investigative report stated.
When the agency assigned another child protection investigator to the case after the second abuse allegation, that worker failed to assess the danger and accepted the opinion of the former therapist-caseworker that the girl's injuries were accidental, the inspector general's office reported.
Linda Jones said a judge would not allow her to make a victim statement at Chad Jones' sentencing.
"They wouldn't hear anything we had to say," she said. "It was like Cree Lynn just didn't matter."
By George Pawlawczyk and Beth Hundsdorfer
News-Democrat
Dianne DeVanna 11-year-old
A SHORT, UNHAPPY LIFE
A foster child, Dianne DeVanna just wanted to go home. That's where she was killed.
Nearly 30 years ago, the murder of a young girl reverberated far beyond the South Shore and resulted in wholesale changes in the way the state deals with child abuse.
Eleven-year-old Dianne DeVanna was found dead in her Braintree home on Sept. 23, 1978, the victim of shocking cruelty at the hands of her father and stepmother. The little girl had been tortured, including being hanged by her feet from a staircase with her hands tied and mouth gagged. She died from a blood clot in her brain, caused by a blow to the head.
The case exposed huge gaps in the welfare system designed to protect children and led to the creation of the state Department of Social Services. After living in foster homes and residential facilities for six years, Dianne wanted to go home. A month before her murder, a judge ordered that she be returned to her family, even though all the professionals involved in the case argued against it.
What then-Norfolk County District Attorney William Delahunt called "one of cruelest and most sadistic" cases he had seen was also the impetus for The Dianne DeVanna Center for the Prevention of Child Abuse and Neglect. The nonprofit organization named for the pretty young girl from Braintree grew out of donations sent to a memorial committee raising money to put a headstone on her grave. When a local company donated the headstone, the donations were used instead to establish the center.
Today, the DeVanna Center develops programs to reduce child abuse and neglect, supports parents and families in need and promotes child safety. It provides services to families being helped by the state Department of Social Services.
Dianne's father, Sylvester DeVanna, died of a heart attack in prison in 1980 while serving a life sentence. His wife, Vincenza, served a 19- to 20-year term at MCI-Framingham for manslaughter.
Patriot Ledger staff
Jada Southall 2-year-old
CPS Responds to Toddler's Abuse -Did this child slipped through the cracks? A police report Eyewitness News obtained after Jada's injuries, shows young Jada was no stranger to medical treatment.
Did this child slipped through the cracks? "I don't know that, but I do know the process will help one identify that if that happened," Susan Klein-Rothschild said.
Klein-Rothschild is the County's Director of Family Services, and overseas Child Protective Services. She reviewed the police report that details four incidents of injuries to Jada while in the care of her mother's live in boyfriend, Osvaldo Lopez. The incidents include a fractured collarbone, bruises to the stomach, an injury to the arm, and the most recent incident last night when she was taken to the hospital with breathing problems.
Klein-Rothschild says Jada being treated at different medical centers could help CPS with questions they have, "It looks like this child had more than one injury and treatment at different place, different professionals may have known different things about it."
If a medical professional sees an injury on a child, immediate action must happen. Rothschild says, "If a medical profession sees an injury they're concerned about they they're required and responsible to report it to a hotline."
Jada has a younger brother who is at Child Haven. CPS says they do have a child abuse investigator on the case since Lopez was arrested.
Mikinah Smith 1-year-old
Died: March 18, 2003
Over-the-Rhine
Age at death: 1 year
Cause of death: Head injury
Job and Family Services intervention: The agency got involved immediately after Mikinah was born because her mother previously neglected older siblings. When the baby was 4 months old, her mother left her with an unsuitable caregiver. That prompted the agency to place her and her twin brother in foster homes. Mikinah's foster father, Norman White, violently shook Mikinah on March 15, 2003, leading to her death three days later.
Criminal case: White, 41, of Westwood was convicted of involuntary manslaughter and assault. He is serving a five-year prison term.
Lilanna 12-year-old
Lilanna Easter Sunday 2000, usually a day of celebration, ended in a day marked by brutality in Knox, Indiana. Lilianna's 12-year-old lifeless body was found on this day, soaked in blood, with her skull fractured in several places. She had been violently attacked by her step-father.
Lilianna's step-father began drinking early that morning, and by mid-afternoon demanded the house be cleaned. Disgusted with Lilianna's dusting, he pulled out a two-caliber rifle and began to beat the young girl. When Lilianna's mother tried to intervene, she too became victim to the beating. Lilianna's mother freed herself from her husband's grip, and went running onto the street covered in blood. She soon brought back police officers. Lilianna's stepfather used his two other children as shields to protect himself from the officers. Finally, an officer distracted him, while another officer used a side entrance to get into the house. The officer discovered Lilianna's body. Her head had been all but crushed, and she lay in a pool of blood. She'd been beaten so ferociously that the rifle had split in two.
Sadly, the abuse came as no surprise to her friends and neighbors. Despite their warnings to the department of children and family services, and police, Lilianna and her mother were not protected from the beast in their home. Over 200 of her classmates protested against child abuse at the courthouse when Lilianna's step-father stood accused of murder.
Sarah Crider 14-year-old
Why did Sarah Crider die?
Alone in the darkness of a state mental hospital, Sarah Crider, 14, lay slowly dying.
A HIDDEN SHAME: DEATH IN GEORGIA'S MENTAL HOSPITALS
Sarah Crider was among 115 patients in the state's care who might have lived.
She complained of stomach pain at 4:30 p.m. She vomited about 8:30. When the only physician on call at Georgia Regional Hospital/Atlanta came at 9:20, Sarah had vomited again, but the doctor did not examine her, medical records suggest. She threw up around midnight and once more about 2 a.m., this time a bloody substance that resembled coffee grounds. But hospital workers did not enter Sarah's room again until 6:15 a.m. By then, it was too late.
A few hours later, two hospital employees drove to Cobb County to tell Joyce Dobson, Sarah's grandmother. Dobson adored Sarah for all her complexities: artistic but troubled, challenging but comic. Now she could think only of two nights earlier, when she had last visited Sarah and heard another patient's haunting scream.
I hope nobody killed her, Dobson blurted out.
In fact, what happened to Sarah was beyond anything Dobson could have imagined.
Sarah was one of at least 115 patients from Georgia's state psychiatric hospitals who have died under suspicious circumstances during the past five years, according to an investigation by The Atlanta Journal-Constitution. The newspaper assembled a list of questionable deaths by examining state and federal inspection reports, a database of vital records, autopsies, medical files, court papers, state insurance claims and other documents.
This study revealed a pattern of neglect, abuse and poor medical care in the seven state hospitals, as well as a lack of public accountability for patient deaths. The findings for 2002 through late 2006 -- from employees beating patients with aluminum pipes to doctors widely prescribing sedatives just to maintain order -- evoke images from the mid-20th century at the state hospital in Milledgeville. There, thousands of patients lived and died amid horrific conditions that became synonymous across the nation with mistreatment of people with mental illness.
Several experts in psychiatric care concur with the Journal-Constitution's findings. They include patient advocates, as well as a Connecticut physician who heads the American Psychiatric Association's patient safety committee and another psychiatrist who helps conduct inquiries into deaths at mental hospitals in Illinois. All say the investigation shows significant problems with care provided in the Georgia hospitals.
State officials generally do not dispute the newspaper's conclusions. But a statement released by the Georgia Department of Human Resources, which operates the hospitals, says 82 of the patients identified by the Journal-Constitution had underlying medical problems "that were appropriately treated."
In an additional 24 cases, the agency says, "we agree the hospital system should make improvements."
Officials say they have been working to improve mental health care by shifting resources and patients, especially those with developmental disabilities, to community-based services.
"We have a whole system of care that we have to build and balance," says B.J. Walker, the state's human resources commissioner. The Georgia facilities, she says, compare favorably with those in other states on several key indicators, such as escapes, deaths of patients restrained by hospital workers, and medication errors.
"Our hospitals are overcrowded and overused," she says. But "we're not just throwing our hands up and hollering we can't do anything about it."
The Journal-Constitution documented 364 deaths of state hospital patients from January 2002 through mid-December 2006. Two-thirds apparently died of natural causes.
Among the 115 cases the newspaper determined to be suspicious, the greatest number of patients -- 36 -- died from choking on food, vomit or foreign objects, or by aspirating those substances into their lungs. A similar number died for lack of emergency treatment or from questionable medical care. Twelve committed suicide. At least two died under physical restraint by hospital workers.
The newspaper could find no information on 16 of the 115 deaths, except that state officials classified them as "unexplained/suspicious."
Experts say relatively simple measures could have prevented many deaths: More staff members to observe choking-prone patients during mealtime and to react to emerging medical problems. One-on-one monitoring of patients who threaten to kill themselves. More training in nonviolent methods to control unruly patients.
No independent agency routinely investigates or analyzes these deaths, the Journal-Constitution found. In New York and Illinois, any death in a state hospital triggers a review by an outside group. In Georgia, the agency that runs the state hospitals polices itself.
Dangerous conditions in the hospitals arise from decades of disregard by public officials, chronic overcrowding and understaffing, and public indifference, the newspaper found.
In 2000, state legislators created an ombudsman's office to investigate abuse and neglect -- but never appropriated money for the office and never filled the job. And the problems have become even more intractable. Since 2004, the state has cut the hospitals' budgets by 12 percent. Meanwhile, officials project, the daily average number of adult mental health patients will have risen 12 percent by the end of this fiscal year.
This is the combustible atmosphere that Sarah Elizabeth Crider, a seventh-grader from the suburbs, encountered in the fall of 2005 when she entered Georgia Regional.
The way a girl with no history of serious physical illness died more than three months later illustrates not just the breakdown of care in her case, but also a systemic failure that has escaped scrutiny for decades.
"She was a healthy 14-year-old -- healthy," says Dobson, Sarah's maternal grandmother and guardian, whose family has hired an attorney to pursue a claim against the state. "She had never been sick in her life.
"Why wasn't something done for this child?"
A girl's life unravels
She loved cartoons. Given the choice, she would have eaten ice cream with every meal. She gardened with her grandmother, but teased about the results.
Meemaw, Sarah Crider would tell Dobson in the yard, why don't you just admit it -- everything you touch dies anyway.
Sometimes, though, Sarah's disposition darkened.
One day in February 2003, she claimed to be seeing large spots on a wall that had no spots. Her family took her to an emergency room, where a doctor at first suspected meningitis. A spinal tap ruled out that diagnosis. But Sarah's hallucinations worried the doctor, who thought she might hurt herself. He sent her to the nearest state psychiatric hospital: Georgia Regional.
The 38-year-old facility sprawls across 174 acres in south DeKalb County, near the I-285 interchange with Flat Shoals Road. It resembles a small college campus, with low-slung buildings clustered amid grassy fields. Sarah entered a unit for children and teenagers, segregated from adults with mental illness and retardation.
She was 11 years old.
Doctors treated her for autism, for which she had been previously diagnosed. After two weeks, she returned to Dobson's house in Acworth acting as if nothing had happened and quickly resumed her regular life: Girl Scouts, youth groups at church, special education classes at school.
In November 2004, her sixth-grade class from Lost Mountain Middle School planned to attend a Disney on Ice performance at Philips Arena in downtown Atlanta. Sarah, by then 13, often had trouble getting out of bed on school days. But she awoke early the morning of the field trip, she was so excited. At school, as her classmates boarded a bus, Sarah went back inside to retrieve her coat. The bus was on I-75, well on its way downtown, before anyone noticed Sarah's absence.
Missing the trip devastated Sarah. In a fit of anger, she shredded an antique book belonging to Dobson. The outburst was a preview of what would become routine behavior -- "acting up," as family members describe it.
Sarah lived with her grandmother, as did her younger brother, Wesley, and her mother, Leslie Dobson. Sarah's parents no longer lived together, and several relatives had helped care for her. Now, no one could control her. So on Nov. 19, 2004, her family reluctantly admitted her to Ridgeview Institute, a private psychiatric hospital in Smyrna.
There, Sarah received a new diagnosis: schizophrenia.
The brain disorder, which can cause hallucinations and delusions, among other symptoms, affects about 1 percent of the population, according to the National Institute of Mental Health. In children, the institute says, the disease often is misdiagnosed as autism.
Sarah improved at Ridge-view, her family says, becoming less anxious, less frenzied. But the economics of psychiatric health care quickly intervened. Her mother's medical insurance policy, which covered Sarah, paid for not quite a month of inpatient psychiatric care. So Sarah became one of many mentally ill Georgians who, facing similar insurance restrictions, or lacking coverage altogether, have only one real option: a state hospital.
Sarah spent two weeks at Georgia Regional in February and March 2005, shortly after leaving Ridgeview. Back at her grandmother's house, she continued having severe, disruptive tantrums despite being heavily medicated. By the fall, Sarah's family realized they needed help again.
On Oct. 24, 2005, Sarah returned to Georgia Regional.
She was the sole resident of Room 1123 on the adolescent unit. The only door had a long, narrow window that had been covered. The only furnishings were a bed and a wooden desk with the drawers removed. A slim window on the outside wall offered her a view of a trailer on the hospital grounds.
Over the next three months, Sarah's condition, as well as her behavior, deteriorated.
She "frequently experienced hallucinations, talked or mumbled to herself, and was combative and uncooperative with directions and schoolwork," a state report says. She rarely spoke, according to another report, and when she did, she seemed fixated on such topics as getting pregnant and the singer Britney Spears.
Doctors prescribed an assortment of medications: Ativan to reduce anxiety. Benadryl for sedation. Geodon, Risperdal and Seroquel to treat schizophrenia and psychosis. Thorazine to control hallucinations. Cogentin to counteract the Thorazine's side effects.
Many of the drugs shared a common risk: constipation.
Sarah had entered the hospital with an elevated white blood cell count, a sign that she was fighting an infection. But medical records indicate no doctor at Georgia Regional ordered additional blood tests right away. They concentrated instead on Sarah's mental illness.
At Christmas, two months later, Sarah left for 13 days to visit her family. Her homecoming was far from joyful.
She barely spoke to anyone. She frightened her younger cousins with a fixed stare. Her family couldn't leave her alone, for fear that she would run away.
"She was sedated," Joyce Dobson says, "like a zombie."
Sarah's demeanor so upset Dobson that she began looking into an alternative treatment program in Florida. She hoped to send Sarah there in the spring.
When Sarah returned to Georgia Regional after Christmas, the hospital staff was supposed to take blood to test for anemia and infection. Sarah refused, and no one at the hospital ever asked Dobson for permission to take blood by force. So the tests were not done.
Most Sundays, Dobson and Sarah's other grandmother, Bobbie Crider, visited her together. The second weekend in February, they went on Saturday night instead.
Sarah met them in a waiting room -- the hospital does not allow visitors on the wards -- dressed in a white hospital gown, rather than the jeans and shirts she had worn during earlier visits. Her shoulder-length brown hair needed washing. She had put on weight during her hospital stay, about 30 pounds, up to 156, possibly a side effect of her anti-psychotic medications. She was withdrawn and seemed ill.
"She didn't talk much," Bobbie Crider recalls. "I thought she couldn't understand us well."
Dobson noticed that Sarah's ears were bright red; usually that meant she had a fever. Dobson also wondered about a red streak across Sarah's forehead and about the girl's swollen feet. She told a member of the medical staff that her granddaughter needed attention.
Just before she left, Dobson heard a loud, prolonged scream from behind the locked door to Sarah's unit. A hospital employee explained that a patient was being restrained.
I just hate to send her back into that kind of environment, Dobson told Bobbie Crider.
Sarah embraced Dobson one last time before returning to her room. It was a ritual between grandmother and granddaughter.
Sarah had always called it a "squeezy hug."
Staff under pressure
The next night, Feb. 12, 2006, Sarah Crider was one of 22 patients in Georgia Regional's adolescent unit. Boys slept on one hall, girls on the other. A nursing station that connected them served as a base for the staff working the overnight shift: one nurse and four technicians.
"There was chaos on the unit," a nurse who went off-duty at 11:30 p.m. would later tell an investigator.
The nurse in charge overnight had responsibilities both on the adolescent unit and elsewhere in the hospital. He had to administer medications to patients and fill out paperwork. He had to respond to emergencies on other units in other buildings and process the admission of new patients. He had to assign staff members to cover patients' needs.
The nurse sent two male technicians to the boys' hall; one supervised a patient who required individual monitoring, while the other cared for the remaining eight boys. As the shift began, the nurse assigned another male technician to the girls' hall to work with a female colleague. She would later say she wasn't able to look in on all 13 girls on the unit because, with so many patients, "I wouldn't have time to do anything else."
High patient-to-staff ratios are hardly unusual at the state hospitals. The occupancy rate in adult mental health units averaged 109 percent last fiscal year, well above the national standard of 85 percent. Staff turnover is heavy, made worse by pay for many technicians of less than $20,000 a year. Nurse and technician jobs go unfilled for weeks or months at a time. Consequently, the hospitals often call on employees to perform heroically under virtual combat conditions.
And when employees are overworked, distracted or disengaged, patients may suffer.
At East Central Regional Hospital in Augusta in 2002, patient Larry Mansfield asked a technician to help him buy corn chips from a vending machine. Like many patients in the state hospitals, Mansfield, 53, had a history of choking, was restricted to a diet of ground food, and needed supervision while eating. The technician got Mansfield the chips anyway, then left to help subdue another patient. Alone with the chips, Mansfield choked to death.
By comparison, Sarah Crider's stomachache apparently didn't seem like much of an emergency, at first, on a hectic Sunday night at Georgia Regional.
Hours of distress
One physician was on duty for the entire hospital that night: Dr. Ginari Gibb, a 32-year-old medical resident in psychiatry. Unlike most other residents, who work at Georgia Regional under an attending physician through arrangements with medical schools, Gibb was a free agent, according to state personnel records, hired for a 12-hour overnight shift at $60 an hour.
After Sarah vomited about
8:30 p.m., the nurse then on the adolescent unit paged the doctor. Gibb arrived about 9:20, and wrote in Sarah's chart that she was "found lying in bed in vomitus" and "complained of stomach cramps over several hours." Medical records don't indicate whether Sarah was able to describe the extent of her pain. Regardless, Gibb noted, Sarah appeared to be in no distress.
But Sarah's medical records contain no indication that Gibb actually examined her. The doctor did not document whether she listened for bowel sounds with a stethoscope, or checked whether the abdomen and bowel area were firm, or felt for masses.
Gibb ordered a suppository for Sarah's nausea and a Tylenol for her headache. Then she went back to work elsewhere in the hospital.
No one summoned Gibb when Sarah vomited at least two more times between midnight and 2 a.m. The overnight nurse had been occupied with other duties since 12:35, then returned at 2 to document that Sarah was lying in "extra large amounts" of vomit. A technician would later tell investigators it resembled coffee grounds, a sign of a medical emergency: She was vomiting partly digested blood.
For the next several hours, though, hospital employees showed no urgency in their assessments of Sarah's condition.
3:15 a.m.: Sarah was "in bed and awake."
4:15 a.m.: Sarah's breathing was "even and unlabored."
5:30 a.m.: "No complications noted."
In fact, the employees had no idea how she was doing.
As the male technician working the girls' hall later would explain to state investigators: "We're not supposed to go into the female rooms at night. We just stand at the door and make sure that they're in the room."
When he looked in on Sarah, the overhead light was off and she was facing away from the door, the technician said. She was quiet, he said, but he "couldn't necessarily tell if she was breathing."
At 6:15, a nurse entered Room 1123 and found Sarah, unconscious, without a pulse, still lying in vomit. The staff declared a "code," a hospital term for medical emergency.
A nurse who raced to Sarah's room from another unit noted that her abdomen was enlarged, rounded and firm to the touch, and that a thick brown substance was coming out of her mouth. Her skin was so discolored that staff members who hadn't seen Sarah before assumed she was black.
Another nurse placed a defibrillator to Sarah's chest, hoping to restart her heart.
"Where [is] the medical doctor?" the nurse asked, according to notes later inserted in Sarah's medical chart.
Gibb, still the only physician on duty, arrived at Sarah's room a few minutes later, records show. She stood in the doorway, other hospital workers would later report, and watched as they tried to resuscitate Sarah.
In the medical chart, though, Gibb would note that Sarah was "cold, blue and without a pulse" when she arrived. "Rigor mortis had already set in."
Gibb added, "The patient was unable to be revived, and expired."
An avoidable death
Joyce Dobson at first assumed another patient had assaulted her granddaughter. But she says Georgia Regional employees assured her that Sarah died peacefully, in her sleep.
Sarah's autopsy provided a far more horrific account.
The medical examiner found Sarah had developed a severe intestinal blockage that caused her colon to stretch almost to the point of bursting. Her lungs had filled with vomit. And she had developed bacterial sepsis, an infection of the bloodstream.
The day after Sarah died, the state opened two investigations -- both by the Department of Human Resources, the same agency that runs the hospitals.
One inquiry began in response to an anonymous complaint about Sarah's treatment. The other resulted from a 2005 policy requiring agency employees to look into the death of every state hospital patient.
In many instances, employees of the hospital where a death has occurred investigate their colleagues' actions -- and, records show, rarely find fault.
In one case, hospital officials assigned a death investigation to a music therapist on their staff. At another hospital, a patient advocate with no professional license in any medical field conducted numerous inquiries. His report from a 2005 investigation was typical: 58-year-old Henry Jenkins "was loved and admired by all who knew him," the advocate concluded. "Someone said to me, 'Everyone liked Henry.' We can all hope to be remembered in that way."
Physicians and other medical professionals often critique the handling of death cases by conducting peer review. But the state refuses to release records of those reviews, even to the families of deceased patients.
Gwen Skinner, who heads the mental health division of the Department of Human Resources, describes the investigations as "strong, thorough." Walker, the human resources commissioner, says the department "takes whatever action is required."
In Sarah's case, investigators from the department's regulatory section struck a critical tone.
They found she had become lethally constipated partly because of her medications, some of which were known to cause severe constipation in many patients. The problem, they discovered, was exacerbated by dosages that sometimes exceeded the amounts prescribed. They also documented that hospital employees did not record Sarah's consumption of food and liquids or her bowel movements.
Furthermore, investigators said, Sarah's impacted bowels developed over time and could have been detected by more careful observation.
Georgia Regional "failed to adequately monitor and assess the patient," the investigators wrote. "Medical professionals are left with the responsibility to develop systems to collect information related to the patient's wellness, to recognize symptoms related to impaired health, and to obtain and provide prompt and appropriate treatment."
Sarah's condition should have been recognized as a medical emergency requiring immediate surgery, says Dr. Kris Sperry, Georgia's chief medical examiner. "People should not die of obstructed intestines."
Skinner agrees that Sarah's death was avoidable.
"Our take on it was the situation with the child was not something that occurred on one night or one shift," Skinner says. "I would say that anytime you have a child die, the system has failed."
The state fired Dr. Ramesh Amin, Sarah's primary psychiatrist for much of her hospitalization, citing "negligence and inefficiency." Amin, who has contested his firing, declined to comment for this article. His attorney, Sandra Michaels, says Amin should not be "singled out" for blame. "It was a tragedy that had nothing to do with his abilities as a doctor."
For other hospital employees, the consequences of Sarah's death appear to have been minimal.
Ginari Gibb, the doctor on duty the night Sarah died, continues to practice at Georgia Regional. Gibb, who did not respond to requests for an interview, received no punishment from hospital officials, just a letter from the facility's clinical director outlining her mistakes.
The letter's purpose, the clinical director wrote, was for "coaching and counseling."
The final indignity
Sarah's funeral was Thursday, Feb. 16. Her special education classmates brought red heart-shaped balloons to a Marietta cemetery on a warm winter afternoon. One child read aloud, "Sarah, you're my best friend, and I'm going to miss you."
About a month later, Joyce Dobson called Georgia Regional to ask for Sarah's clothes.
"They said, well, if they could find them," she recalls. She eventually received Sarah's gown and robe, both stained by what appeared to be vomit or blood.
Dobson was furious. Sarah was meticulous about her clothes, sometimes changing three or four times a day. Dobson knew her granddaughter never would have chosen to stay in soiled clothing.
She saw this as one last indignity, one last symbol of neglect surrounding Sarah's death.
"I was angry because I felt like it could have been prevented," Dobson says. "It just seemed like such carelessness."
By ALAN JUDD and ANDY MILLER The Atlanta Journal-Constitution Published on Jan. 7, 2007
Elijah Yanes 11-month-old
Did baby Elijah Yanes' heart rupture because he was sodomized, or did he die because his father used adult CPR on his 11-month-old body?
Another fine example of Phoenix CPS-Child Abuse justice.
That's the question Maricopa County Superior Court jurors will have to ponder in the trial of Peoria resident Delano Yanes, who was charged with first-degree murder and child abuse in his son's death in September 2003. During opening arguments Wednesday, prosecutor Frankie Grimsman alleged that Yanes had either raped the baby or forced an object into him, causing his heart to rupture.
Defense attorney Vikki Liles countered that Yanes, 27, found the child unconscious in his playpen and that he and an APS worker possibly caused the fatal injury by performing CPR on him.
There was no DNA evidence to confirm a sexual attack. And the attorneys have lined up medical experts to argue whether there was bruising or whether CPR could kill a baby.
Jury acquits man accused of abusing, killing 11-month-old son
Michael Kiefer The Arizona Republic Feb. 3, 2006 12:00 AM
Prosecutors said that Delano Yanes sodomized his 11-month old son and that the child's heart exploded during the attack.
But on Thursday, a Maricopa County Superior Court jury acquitted Yanes of first-degree murder and two child-abuse counts.
His defense attorney, Vikki Liles, told the jury during her opening argument that the only thing worse than having a child die is to be unjustly accused of the child's death. The jury listened.
Yanes wept with joy at the verdict. He hugged Liles. He hugged his mother and grandmother. He even hugged a member of the jury who came back into the courtroom to shake his hand.
He struggled for words.
"It's hard to be accused of something you're so against," he said.
And when asked about the prospect of being sentenced to life in prison, he said, "I don't think I would have made it past a year."
Yanes, 27, of Peoria, claimed that he found his son Elijah unconscious in his playpen in September 2003. He ran from his apartment and enlisted the help of an Arizona Public Service Co. worker. The two of them attempted CPR on the child, but the child died.
Elijah's diaper was filled with feces and blood and his tiny chest was bruised. Medical examiners found that his heart had ruptured as if from trauma and they thought they noted bruising on his anus.
Yanes was arrested at his son's viewing.
"I never got to say my real goodbyes," he said.
That night Yanes reportedly got into a pushing match with a detention officer at Madison Street Jail and was subsequently charged with aggravated assault; he still faces trial on that count. After five months, his family and members of his church raised enough money to post bond.
The trial, which began Jan. 11, was a battle of medical experts.
Deputy County Attorney Frankie Grimsman alleged that in the 20-some minutes between when Yanes' wife left the apartment and when Yanes called 911, that Yanes had sodomized the child. But there was no DNA evidence to support the theory.
The medical experts could not agree whether the child's anus and rectum were injured, or whether the chest bruising was caused by assault or by administering adult CPR on an infant.
The jury never heard that the state Child Protective Services had investigated Yanes and his wife in April 2003 when baby Elijah suffered a broken arm; investigators found no evidence of abuse.
The jurors deliberated Wednesday afternoon and Thursday morning before returning the not-guilty verdicts.
"Show me the evidence," said jury member Thomas Drozt of Peoria, a sentiment held by several members of the jury who would not give their names.
Yanes' wife, Teresa, did not attend the trial, and neither Yanes nor Teresa's mother and sister could account for her whereabouts.
Yanes said that instead of going to prison, he would be going to his night-shift job just as on any other day.
Charnae Wise 4-year-old
"Mommy" she whispered softly as one last tear slowly fell. This was her last thought as she slowly slipped from this world into what waited beyond.
Please, Remember Me - By Dawn Barler
The four year old lay quietly in the dark listening to the dull thumps and bumps of her brothers and sisters playing upstairs. She could hear her mother's voice, an angry, mean and threatening voice that still somehow brought comfort. A tear ran down her dirty little face. She wanted her mommy.
Slowly, with what strength was left to her, she turned her head toward the stairs, as she had done so many times before and watched the light that seeped in from under the door. Then she heard the water running in the kitchen sink and licked her cracked lips with a dry tongue.
She knew mommy would be in the kitchen now, and she wanted so much to be in her mother's arms. She wanted to be warm, dry and safe. She wanted to have just a sip of that cool running water.
She tried to get up to go to the door but couldn't move from the damp and musky pile of old clothes and newspapers that had been serving as her bed. She reached one scrawny bruised arm to the door. Opening and closing her tiny hand as infants so often do. She opened her mouth to call out to her mother, but the sound that ripped from her raw throat was only a dry and painful whisper.
She didn't know how long she had been there in the darkness of the basement, but she knew why. In her child's mind it had been her fault; she had been a very bad girl. She must have been because mommy had told her so. She had made mommy very angry, that is why she was there.
She had crawled to the door many times and clawed at the wood until her fingers bled. She had cried out in fear, pain, and hunger. She had cried out in her sorrow and had promised to be a good girl. No one had answered her cries and so once again she would crawl back down into the darkness, confused, afraid, and alone.
She had squeezed her eyes shut tight many times against the tears of frustration and fear. They would fall anyway. When her tears would finally fade she would lay and watch the door quietly; listen to the rats rustling through the filth of the basement and she would wait.
As the time passed an odd calmness washed over her and she began to feel a strange kind of numbness. Oh, she still felt the pain and sickness of her empty stomach, the dry burning in her throat, and her head still ached. She was aware of the sores and bruises on her small body which still oozed blood and puss and caused pain with every movement. She felt the throbbing of the splinters under what remained of her bloody and infected fingernails. She knew all this pain, but somehow it didn't matter anymore, she felt detached from it as if it were happening to someone else.
Darkness surrounded her as she heard her mother ushering the other children to bed. She heard their feet, a distant steady thumping as they went up the stairs. A faint memory of soft pillows and warm blankets fluttered on the edge of her mind. 'Mommy' she whispered softly as one last tear slowly fell. This was her last thought as she slowly slipped from this world into what waited beyond.
No arms had held the little one as she passed. No tears were shed. Life continued on in the shabby house, uncaring of the tiny forgotten frame which lay half buried beneath the garbage and dirt in the basement below.
How a Child Died in her Mother's Basement
By Shankar Vedantam
Charlene Wise was sitting at a kitchen table in Norristown when her water broke. It was just after midnight and her sixth child was about to be born.
What concerned her, however, was that she and her sister, Darlene, were running out of crack.
A burst of pain cut through her drugged haze. She lay down.
"Do you want me to call 911?" Darlene asked.
Charlene suggested that her sister go "do some prostitution," and buy more crack.
The pain got worse and Darlene called an ambulance.
"Don't push!" paramedics shouted as they rushed to the hospital.
The baby girl was born on Sept. 19, 1991, blue in the face, with the umbilical cord wrapped around her neck. The doctors and nurses were angry with Charlene. "You knew you weren't supposed to get high," they told her.
In the morning, they asked her to choose a name for the baby.
Charlene wanted a name that sounded like her own.
"Charnae," she said.
She never got to hold her baby.
When social workers checked Charlene's case history, they found that her five other children had been put in foster care after she was caught living in a crack house in Pottstown. They decided to place Charnae in foster care, too.
On the way out of the hospital, Charlene peered through the nursery window. There were cards attached to the cribs. One pink tag read, "Baby Wise."
A beautiful baby. Charlene felt bad about losing Charnae. But she felt worse that she had not gotten high in many hours.
Six years later, after Charnae died in a horrific case of child abuse, Charlene would remember the day of the birth as the first of many occasions when she had failed her daughter.
Charnae was almost 3 when she was returned to her mother.
Charlene had desperately wanted her children back. She convinced Montgomery County social workers that she had turned her life around. She found a home in Philadelphia at 3017 W. Harper St. and struggled through a drug-rehabilitation program.
Denisha, her oldest, came back around Thanksgiving 1992. She was 13. Kadedra, 5, and Gwendolyn, 4, followed.
Several months later, social workers told Charlene it was time for Donte, then 4, and Charnae to return.
Charlene felt she hardly knew them. She had visited the children in their foster home. Charnae was impaired by the crack her mother had smoked while pregnant. Social workers said Charnae and Donte were slow learners and aggressive.
Charlene wasn't sure she could deal with them just yet. She had just had another baby, her seventh. With Charnae and Donte, she would have six children at home - her eldest son, Timothy, 12, was not returned.
"I can handle only so many kids," she told social workers.
"It's like this, Ms. Wise," one replied. "You either take them now or we put them up for adoption."
"I'll take them," she said.
Charnae, who had been slow to walk, now wouldn't sit still. If Charlene gave her dolls, she would rip their hair out and yank off their clothes. Donte was the same.
To calm them, Charlene banned candy. She tried the time-out method. She yelled. She had neither partner nor extended family to help her. The house on Harper Street rang with her screams:
"Stop it! Stop it! Stop it! Stop it!"
Donte and Charnae defeated her at every turn. Donte would prop a chair against the kitchen cabinet, climb onto the stove and take candy out of a jar. Then he'd race upstairs and share the loot with Charnae.
She was the quiet one. Charlene called her a "sneaky little beaver."
Charlene did not have the patience or the skill to deal with them. She slapped them, hit them with shoes and hairbrushes, pummeled them with her fists.
That only made things worse. Charnae and Donte wet their beds and soiled the mattresses. Charlene banned them from drinking water after 9 p.m. - and jammed shut the tap on the bathroom sink. Donte responded by twisting his head under the bathtub tap. Charnae drank from the toilet.
Denisha was another worry. At 15, she became a mother, making Charlene, at 32, a grandmother. In 1995, Charlene gave birth to her eighth child - with a fifth father.
Through it all, she smoked crack.
She had a 9 p.m. bedtime rule for the children. At 11, she would slip out of the house and buy some "get-high."
Depending on her money situation - she was receiving welfare checks for three children and Social Security checks for three others - she would go out for crack many times a night. Sometimes, she would still be smoking when the children woke up in the morning and asked for help going to school.
Too tired to get out of bed, she would tell them to stay home and watch television.
If anyone outside the house had cared to look, there were numerous signs that the family was headed downhill.
On Feb. 23, 1996, Charnae was rushed to Hahnemann University Hospital with a severe scalp infection. She was withdrawn and apathetic. Hospital records show that staff worried Charlene was using drugs.
In October, the city Department of Human Services (DHS) - responsible for ensuring the safety of Charlene's children - received word that Donte had gone to school with a black eye. The boy said that Charlene had hit him with a broom.
Another report said Kadedra was injured after she put her leg on a hot plate to warm herself. Her pants caught fire and she suffered second- and third-degree burns.
On Christmas Eve 1996, Charlene and Denisha had a huge fight. Charlene did not give Denisha's son the Christmas toy she had promised. On Christmas Day, Denisha, then 17, took her son and moved out.
That left six children in the house on Harper Street alone with Charlene. The oldest was Kadedra. She was 9.
Charlene's addiction had its rituals. Each night, after the children were in bed, she would lovingly organize her drugs, her cigarettes and her beer.
She was chasing what drug users call the "ghost," the euphoria she'd had when she first started using.
She needed absolute quiet because the drugs made her paranoid. She called it "bugging." If she thought she heard a car on the street, she thought the police were coming for her.
Like an athlete preparing for a race, she needed to concentrate.
And then she would hear a creak - Charnae and Donte creeping around in the back bedroom again. They seemed to have a sixth sense about when she was getting high.
If she yelled at them to stop, the high went away.
If she leapt up to hit them, the feeling vanished.
If she slapped them and made them cry, her mood disintegrated.
One day in 1997, blind with anger, she grabbed them both and pushed them into the basement. She didn't shut the door, but the basement was dark and dirty and they were terrified. When she let them out a little while later, they had cried so much that they went right to sleep.
She had found a way to get high in peace.
Charlene found it easy to fool social workers. She yelled at them when they paid surprise visits and demanded they give her advance notice. She cleaned the house and stocked the refrigerator before the scheduled visits.
She recalled receiving compliments from them on her housekeeping.
They did not spot her drug paraphernalia. Charlene burned incense to mask the smell of crack.
She recalls one asking, "Ms. Wise, are you getting high?"
"No."
"We're going to start giving you random drug tests."
But they never did. In spring 1997, she started barring social workers from the house. She was smoking heavily and wasn't ready even for scheduled inspections.
The Juvenile Justice Center, a private Germantown agency that the Department of Human Services contracted to provide services to the family, referred the case back to the city.
"We can't push our way in," executive director Richard Chapman said. "If cooperation is not forthcoming, we write to DHS and say we can't ensure the welfare of the children."
Charlene remembered DHS workers knocked on her door. She refused to open it. They called her on the phone and threatened to call the police. She gave them an appointment to visit.
A social worker visited June 4. Charlene opened the door. All she wanted to do was get high and sleep. She told the social worker that she had stopped letting DHS into the house because she was leaving town.
Shortly thereafter, DHS closed its file on Charlene Wise.
According to DHS's own rules, cases cannot be closed without assessing whether the children are living in a safe home.
That assessment was never made.
The basement had no fan or air conditioning, and its window was nailed shut. Putting Charnae and Donte down there in the summer heat troubled Charlene.
But after a few times, it got easier. It helped that social workers no longer bothered her and she stayed high all day and all night.
Charnae and Donte seemed to get used to the basement, so Charlene shut the door and left them there longer. Sometimes she could hear them playing together and laughing.
The punishment had a marked effect on Donte, who grew quieter. Charlene decided to stop punishing him. Now when Charnae misbehaved, Charlene put her in the basement by herself.
Each hour the little girl was shut away meant an hour of peace. Each night she was locked up meant a good "get-high." Each time Charnae came out of the basement unharmed, after longer and longer periods of confinement, it seemed less and less like a terrible thing.
Charnae would knock on the door when she wanted to go to the bathroom. Charlene would let her out, bathe her and feed her. Charnae would play with her siblings. Then she would go back down.
The novel punishment became routine. The abnormal became normal.
The balance tipped noiselessly: Charnae wasn't being put in the basement now and then. She was being let out now and then.
Then even that stopped. Charlene would leave a plate of food on the top step as she cleaned up or fed the other children. Sometimes the food would be gone when Charlene returned; often the plate would be untouched.
In July, Charlene went all the way down to the basement and saw that Charnae was using a bucket as a potty.
On Aug. 21, a month before Charnae's sixth birthday, Charlene opened the basement door. The little girl was sitting on the top step.
"Tub time," Charlene said.
Charlene bathed Charnae and combed her hair.
Charnae didn't look good. She stumbled as she walked.
The thought of taking her to a doctor frightened Charlene because no one outside the house would understand; the basement punishment was a family secret.
"What's the matter with you?" Charlene asked.
Charnae was silent.
Charlene steeled herself - there was nothing wrong with the little girl. She never did walk straight. She was just tired; she probably needed sleep.
Charlene led her back to the basement. There was no thought of punishment anymore - Charnae hadn't done anything wrong. The basement had simply become the place where she stayed.
Charnae went quietly. Charlene shut the door behind her.
Frank Wise's car broke down a few blocks from his sister's house one July evening while Charnae was dying. He was with his fiancee. They decided to walk over to Charlene's for the night.
His niece Gwen opened the door. The children were excited to see Uncle Frank. His mind was on the broken-down car as he slept that night on the living room couch. He didn't think to make a head count and didn't ask where Charnae was.
He did recall that the house was quieter. He knew that Charnae was a difficult child.
The next morning, Frank saw Gwen and Kadedra, but he was worried about his car and didn't wonder about Charnae.
Other family members dropped by that summer, marching up Charlene's front steps, past the boarded-up basement window, a few feet from Charnae.
At a July 4 family get-together, Charlene's 17-year-old son, Timothy, who had long been on his own, told Charlene, "I bet if I go down to the basement, I would find Charnae."
"Go ahead!" Charlene dared him.
He didn't go.
Many of Charlene's relatives had troubles of their own. Frank had been on probation for attempted theft. Barbara, Charlene's sister, was on probation for holding up a fast-food restaurant. Charlene's sister, Darlene, a fellow crack addict and prostitute, was to be found unconscious in a city shelter on April 23, 1998. She later died and was taken to the morgue, where city officials waited to hear from worried relatives.
No one called.
The family had never been close. Children came and went in an unceasing cycle of foster care, group homes and social workers. Children were born, children were taken away, children returned.
A concerned neighbor, Tammy Dennis, invited Charlene to church one Sunday. Charlene promised to attend with her children. But when Dennis came to pick them up, no one answered the door.
Dennis, who grew up on the block, remembered a time when children ran freely in and out of one another's homes. Then crack arrived. People became secretive. They closed their doors and windows. Dennis, a poised and collected woman, returned to the block in 1996 after two years in Indiana. She had to learn a new, unspoken rule: "You see what you see, but you see nothing."
Charlene herself lied about what was happening, but she lied poorly. She told her cousin Len Margarita Wise that Charnae was at Harper Street. She told Len's mother that Charnae was with relatives in North Carolina.
In the late summer, she phoned Denisha, then 18, who had last seen her younger sister in May. Denisha had thought Charnae looked malnourished.
"The foster care people have come to take her away," Charlene said on the phone. "They are pulling out in their car now. . . . Charnae is looking out of the window and is waving at me. . . . Look at all those nosy neighbors looking."
A few days later, Denisha casually asked her mother which neighbors had seen Charnae being taken away.
"No one."
Charnae was dying. But Charlene couldn't bring herself to articulate the thought. On Aug. 22, 1997, she sent Kadedra and Gwen down to check on their sister.
She was too afraid to go herself.
The two small children had not seen Charnae in a while. When they returned from the basement, they were hysterical: "Charnae is real bad off."
Charlene calmed them down. She told them to say nothing about it - it was a family secret.
A little while later, Charnae knocked on the basement door.
"Mommy, can I have some water?"
Charlene opened the door and gave her a glass. Charnae looked weak. Charlene shut the door.
On Aug. 23, Charlene carried a plate with hot dogs and spaghetti halfway down the basement stairs. She handed the plate to Charnae.
"Thank you."
"I'll be back," Charlene said. She was going to a birthday party for her grandson at Denisha's house.
"OK."
Charlene dressed and got ready to leave. On her way out, she shouted, "I'll see you when I get back, baby."
If Charnae replied, Charlene didn't hear.
At the party, she took Denisha aside and said she had something important to tell her: Charnae wasn't going to make it till next week.
Denisha drove Charlene home that night. She demanded to see Charnae. Charlene refused and had Denisha drop her off a block from home. She walked the rest of the way.
Once home, she turned on all the lights. The thought of Charnae in the basement had clung to her all evening like a shroud.
She threw open the basement door.
"Charnae," she called out. "Charnae, you down there?"
Silence.
Charlene scrambled down the steps. The little girl was lying on the floor in the fetal position. Charlene bent down and touched her. Charnae felt cold and hard.
Charlene jerked her hand back. She spun around and ran up the unsteady stairs. She didn't stop when she reached the landing, didn't stop until she reached the bathroom on the second floor. She slipped inside and jammed the door shut behind her.
Call 911. The thought terrified her. She couldn't. She just couldn't.
The children need me, she thought.
She turned on the tap so that the other children would not hear her cries. And then, muffled by the sound of rushing water, she wept. For the child who had died, for what she had done, and for all she was going to have to pay.
On Sept. 16, 1997, police found Charnae's skeleton, arrested Charlene and charged her with murder.
Joan Reeves, commissioner of the Department of Human Services, called Charnae's death "unimaginable" and ordered an internal investigation of the case.
The results were never made public. The agency declined all requests for interviews for this article, citing pending litigation.
The following year, a state review of the DHS internal investigation found a string of serious lapses in which the agency had not followed its own policies for child safety: There were times when no social worker was assigned to the family. A required risk assessment was not conducted in February 1997. There was no record-keeping during the crucial period between February 1997 and Charnae's death. Long-term family plans were not made. The case was arbitrarily closed.
In a statement about its responsibility, DHS told state investigators "at no time was there a determination that acts of commission or omission by the department or its agents could have predicted or prevented the tragedy that befell this child."
In March, Charlene was convicted of third-degree murder. Judge James Lineberger sentenced her to 28 to 56 years in prison.
In July, Denisha Wise decided to sue the city and state on behalf of her dead sister, charging that DHS had failed in its duty to protect Charnae.
"DHS and the state were grossly negligent and recklessly indifferent," said Neil Perloff, Denisha's lawyer.
"If I come into money, it would be for my siblings," Denisha said. "I will make sure they have a nice education like I never had. I will get Charnae a headstone. We had no money to get Charnae a headstone. Whatever is left for me, I don't care."
On a scorching summer afternoon, Darnell Harris took one lunging step to the left of a gravestone marked "Perkins."
The grave-digger then took two steps down and drew his boot across the grass to mark the spot of Charnae's grave. He looked up to see whether it aligned with the haphazard markers strewn around. He then revised his estimate by two feet.
"Here," he said confidently.
Actually Charnae's grave was a little to the left of Harris' calculation - Denisha had placed a small marker on the ground that read "Sister."
At the Merion Memorial Park in Bala Cynwyd, no stone marks Charnae's final rest. No epitaph describes her days. For a life so short, so brutal and unloved, what would it say?
Isaiah Jeremiah
It would have taken only one person to save Isaiah Jeremiah Isaiah Jeremiah never knew his name.
He died within minutes of being born, dumped in a rest room trash can at Muskegon High School by his mother, a 16-year-old sophomore. The girl's stepfather, 44, admitted to police that he was the baby's father. He's awaiting trial for first-degree sexual assault. But that's not going to help Isaiah Jeremiah, whose death haunts a community that could have intervened but failed to act. Signs of trouble were there long before Isaiah Jeremiah's fleeting passage through this world. Police believe the baby was the second the stepdad fathered by his stepdaughter. The first is 19 months old now and lived in the same home where police say the stepdaughter was molested since she was 7. Police felt something was horribly wrong after that first child was born, but they couldn't prove anything. The girl denied having sex with her stepfather; a boyfriend said the baby could have been his. Police say the girl did her best to keep the pregnancy a secret, hiding it under baggy clothes and jackets. She did not see a doctor, who might have reported a case of suspected child abuse. Her school did nothing to help her. Especially in light of the first birth, it seems as if someone outside the home had to know, or at least should have asked, and someone -- a teacher, counselor, friend, relative -- should have at least made an anonymous report to Children's Protective Services. It may take a village to raise a child, but sometimes it takes just one person to keep a child from danger. The girl's mother worked long hours at two clerical jobs and apparently just looked away while her husband horribly abused a girl he was entrusted to protect. The girl's relationship to her mother, and her mother's relationship to herself, are the linchpins that broke. The daughter apparently felt she could not turn to her mother, and the mother had neither the will nor the strength to stop the abuse. The mother could be charged with neglect. But that's not going to help Isaiah Jeremiah. It's easy to say the girl should have called out for help. But few adults can imagine the paralyzing fear and shame she must have felt. More than a month after Isaiah's death, prosecutors are still trying to decide what, if any, charges to bring against her. The Muskegon County medical examiner's office is trying to determine whether the baby suffocated, drowned or died some other way. The young mother says Isaiah Jeremiah just ceased to breathe. Chances are the teen will face a charge that will keep her under court jurisdiction without sending her to prison. A good student, though quiet and withdrawn, she wants to return to school. She's going to need a lot of therapy and other kinds of assistance. But that's not going to help Isaiah Jeremiah. For now, the teen is living with a relative in Muskegon, receiving counseling and getting homework from her high school teachers. She hasn't been publicly identified, but Muskegon's not a big city. People know. "All of us are questioning ourselves," says one community leader. "It's raised a lot of questions about whether there was something we should have done or something we should have known." The questions come too late for Isaiah Jeremiah, the child who never knew his name. His legacy may be that some people never forget it. December 7, 2000
Isaiah Luqman Abdul-Qabid 11-week-old
"And when the loudest voice that they have comes from the grave -- saying why didn't you do something for me?
Beaten baby "didn't stand a chance"
Critical breakdown in protection system thwarted opportunity to save infant's life.
Almost everything had to go wrong for Isaiah Luqman Abdul-Qabid to die.
His mother neglected him.
The Marion County prosecutor's office did not act against his father in time.
And repeated efforts by Child Protection Services to help the 11-week-old Indianapolis boy ended in futility.
According to interviews and a confidential child protection report obtained by The Star, a case manager responded to a complaint -- filed a few days before Isaiah's death in May 1998 -- that the baby's dad was abusing him. But her effort to intervene failed.
"She attempted to see the baby, but the family was avoiding her and would not let her in," the report said.
The case manager did not call for law enforcement assistance to gain access to the child -- "and then we heard the baby died."
Said Cathy Graban, an Indianapolis Police Department child abuse detective: "It almost seems like he didn't stand a chance . . . because of all the things that did go wrong in his life."
Isaiah suffered blunt force injuries to his chest and abdomen, and broken blood vessels in his lungs and heart. He had healed rib fractures, suggesting repeated abuse.
The baby's father, Elmer J. Saxton, pleaded guilty to neglect of a dependent, Isaiah, and child molesting. The latter charge stemmed from Saxton having had intercourse with Isaiah's mother when she was a minor; she was 12 when she conceived Isaiah. Because of her age and the nature of the crime, The Star is withholding her name.
Saxton was sentenced to 30 years in prison.
Authorities say Saxton, 24, has denied abusing the baby. But his violent behavior toward Isaiah is strongly made in police records reviewed by The Star.
According to statements given by Isaiah's mother, Saxton shook the child, punched him, gave him spoiled milk, blew marijuana smoke in his face and stuffed socks in his mouth to make him stop crying.
"Isaiah fought for as long as he could," said Kristina Marie Korobov, chief of the Marion County Prosecutor's Domestic Violence Unit. But she said there comes a point when an abused baby will stop crying because it only provokes more abuse.
Toward the end, Korobov said, Isaiah's response "was no longer tears."
Communication breakdown
After Isaiah's mother informed Saxton she was pregnant, police records show, he told her he "wasn't ready for no baby." He told others the baby was not his.
In September 1997, Child Protection Services received a complaint about the pregnancy. The girl said she did not know the whereabouts of the father, nor was she very cooperative, a child protection report said.
Isaiah was born Feb. 22, 1998.
In March, Child Protection Services received another complaint.
This one alleged Isaiah had missed medical appointments and that his mother "could not demonstrate the ability to properly care for the infant." A hospital social worker expressed grave concerns about the mother's knowledge of how to care for the child and the condition of the infant, the report said.
Around that time, Indianapolis police began to investigate the allegation of child molesting. When the investigator left IPD, Graban took over the inquiry.
In late April 1998, Graban said, she submitted the case against Saxton to the prosecutor's office.
Korobov confirmed that the molesting charge still was under review when Isaiah died about 21/2 weeks later.
Prosecutors had been considering seeking a court-ordered paternity test on Saxton. Getting results back would have taken six to eight weeks. Korobov said her office felt no urgency to press charges against Saxton because it had no indication that either Isaiah or his mother was in danger.
Authorities had believed Isaiah and his mother were away from Saxton. After all, upon learning of her daughter's pregnancy, Isaiah's grandmother had confronted Saxton.
"From that spot right there," she told police, "I put him out."
What Graban did not know: Saxton had returned when Isaiah was about 2 months old.
The detective also said she was not informed of the May 1998 complaint to Child Protection Services that Saxton was abusing the baby until after Isaiah's death.
"I just felt sick," she said.
A baby's horror
Isaiah, his mother told police, was no crybaby.
But after Saxton came back, the child cried a lot, she said.
Once, after she said she wanted her son to be athletic, Saxton allegedly grabbed the baby's legs and moved them quickly back and forth. "Look at him, he can run . . . he's going to be a boxer," Saxton said.
But Saxton pulled the baby's legs back so far that the child cried out in pain, Isaiah's mother told investigators.
Sometimes, she said, Saxton held the baby by his waist. "He'd shake him, and his head would go back and forth."
Isaiah's mother told police she tried to protect him from his father.
"I was like, you know, I was getting mad about him, you know, doing my son like that. I just snatched my son away from him, out of his arms when he was shaking him.
"I was like, no, you can't be doing him like that."
On May 13, 1998, Saxton was baby-sitting Isaiah while his mom visited a relative. She returned and took a nap.
Upon awakening, she checked on the baby.
She recalled to police: "He was stiff, and I picked him up. He was cold . . . his lips were blue . . . I sit there for a minute and I was like Isaiah, I didn't even cry, I was just in a state of shock.
"And then something got to me and I said ah, I just started screaming, oh my God, oh my God, and I laid him back down."
Time for change
Prosecutors suspected Saxton inflicted the fatal injuries. Proving it was another matter. Other adults lived in the home and also had the opportunity, Korobov said.
So instead of pressing murder, the county charged Saxton with neglect, along with the molesting charge that had been pending.
Korobov said the baby's mother could have been charged with failing to report child abuse. But authorities decided not to, partly because of the girl's background.
Said Korobov: "She was a neglected child as well."
After Isaiah's death, the Marion County child protection office adopted reforms to improve communication with local police, said John Jay Boyce, director of the Family and Social Services Administration's Division of Family and Children.
Still, to Korobov, the change most needed is in people's attitudes.
"Every day we see parents who grab their children with way too much force in the grocery store, and we turn our backs because it's embarrassing," she said. "Or we see parents who are yelling and screaming at their children, and we don't do anything."
Young children, she said, cannot speak for themselves.
"And so we have to ask ourselves: If we're not willing to speak up for them, who's going to?
"And when the loudest voice that they have comes from the grave -- saying why didn't you do something for me? -- I think that's a sad day."
Tap, tap, tap. A little finger poked Nathan Mohler's shoulder. "I think you're my brother," said a blue - eyed little boy with shiny blonde hair.
For most of their lives the Grays Harbor boys had been separated from each other while being shuffled through the foster care system. Andy Mohler, the youngest, was adopted not long after he tapped his big brother's shoulder, and the chance meeting that summer afternoon at a 4 - H camp in Mason County would be their last.
Andy Mohler, later renamed Shawn Lawrence by his adoptive parents, died while on a fishing trip with his new dad and a young friend on Oct. 9, 1999 - about a year after his adoption. At first the 10 - year - old's death was ruled accidental. It was determined that he slipped, hit his head - perhaps on some rocks - and drowned in the remote Brown Creek Campground area north of Shelton. Weeks later, police learned the adoptive parents took out $650,000 in life insurance policies on their new son.
. ...When Andy was adopted, the ties with his biological mother weren't the only ones severed - his brothers lost their rights to contact Andy, too. Mohler doesn't think that was right. Tears turned to anger when he found out his brother had been dead for at least a week, and that the autopsy and cremation had already come and gone.
"I understand that it was a closed adoption and everything, but his biological mom and siblings should have been contacted," Mohler said.
"....Andy had an abrasion in the back of his head, like he fell and hit his head," Mohler said. "But there wasn't any debris in the cut. It makes me think that he didn't fall first. That someone hit him."
.....He's afraid the longer the case goes on, the more chance there is that it will be forgotten - that he'll never know what really happened to his little brother. That's why he decided to talk to the media, including NBC's "Dateline," believing that his speaking out will help keep the investigation alive. The TV segment is expected to be aired nationwide sometime soon.
..... On the fishing trip, detectives said, the adoptive father separated the two boys and later asked the friend to help him look for Andy.
The mother attempted to cash out one of the life insurance policies five days after the death.
Rickiana Campbell 2-year-old
Just call me, call me, that's all," Mercurius said, her voice trailing off. "I could've helped.I knew something was wrong, but there was nothing I could do. The agency wouldn't let me"
Brooklyn, NY -- Sept. 14, 1999 -- A Brooklyn mother who was being monitored by child-welfare officials confessed yesterday to beating her 2-year-old daughter to death with a plastic doll ? just seven months after regaining custody of the girl, authorities said.
Little Rickiana Campbell, who was visited monthly by a social worker, was a victim of "child abuse syndrome," authorities said. Her body was covered with bruises and she had a fractured skull, officials said.
Cops yesterday arrested Rickiana's mother, Venisha Clark, 21, who had lost custody of the girl and another child in 1997 while she was in jail.
Clark, of Bedford-Stuyvesant, called 911 about 5:30 p.m. Sunday, saying her daughter was unconscious. The girl was taken to New York Methodist Hospital, where she died hours later, police said.
Under questioning by 77th Precinct detectives, Clark broke down and said she had hit her daughter over the head with a 10-inch-tall action figure to stop her from crying, cops said. She was charged with murder.
"Nobody knows what happened. Only God and her knows," said Clark's sister, Lisa Sophia, 28, who lives next door to the family's Park Place apartment. "I know she is a good mother who loves her babies."
A social worker who made monthly visits to Clark and her three children ? Rickiana, 3-year-old Bobby and 10-month-old Paul ? did not report any abuse, cops said.
"The matter is under investigation," said Jennifer Falk, a spokeswoman for the Administration for Children's Services.
Child-welfare officials became involved with the family in 1997, after Clark was arrested for shoplifting.
While she served a 38-day sentence at Rikers Island, Clark left her children with a female friend in the Bronx.
During that time, the woman severely beat Bobby, sending him to the hospital with serious injuries, cops said. The woman was jailed, and Clark's children were sent to foster homes, cops said.
After she got out of jail and attended mandatory parenting classes, Clark regained custody of Bobby in June 1998; Rickiana came home in February 1999, sources said.
Sept. 15, 1999 -- City officials yesterday were investigating how a social worker missed bruises inflicted over a series of months on a 2-year-old Brooklyn girl who authorities said was ultimately beaten to death by her mother.
The social worker, employed by the Administration for Children's Services, did not report seeing any signs of abuse on little Rickiana Campbell, who died Sunday.
"We don't know what happened," said ACS spokeswoman Jennifer Falk, who did not further identify the social worker. "It's all under investigation."
Venisha Clark, 21, was charged Monday with killing Rickiana after confessing to beating the girl over the head with a 10-inch action figure because the child would not stop crying, authorities said.
Officials said Rickiana was a victim of "child abuse syndrome" and had numerous bruises and a fractured skull.
It was not the first time Clark's children suffered abuse. A baby-sitter, Betty Chambers, was arrested in 1998 for beating Clark's oldest son, Bobby, 3, so severely she caused liver damage and bleeding to his head and eyes, court records show.
Chambers, who was caring for Bobby and Rickiana at her Bronx home while their mother served a jail sentence for shoplifting, admitted hitting the boy, court records show.
"He has been getting on my nerve [sic]. I've been doing cruel stuff ... [I'm] always roughing him," Chambers told police after her arrest. She later said the statement was coerced.
After Chambers' arrest, the children were taken from Clark, who was charged with child neglect, Falk said.
Clark regained custody of Bobby in November 1998 and Rickiana last February after attending parenting classes. The court-ordered social worker was assigned to visit the family once a month, Falk said.
Sept. 16, 1999 -- A foster mom who once cared for a 2-year-old Brooklyn girl later beaten to death ? allegedly by her mother ? said yesterday child welfare officials ignored her pleas to adopt the toddler.
Little Rickiana Campbell, who authorities said suffered numerous bruises and fractures after being returned to her mother in February, had begged her foster mother, Cicely Mercuris, to take her back, Mercuris said.
"She would cry, 'Please let me come home,'" a tearful Mercuris told the Daily News.
"She used to be a feisty, jolly little thing. It broke my heart.
"I wanted to give this child a family life," she added.
"Little Ricki was so happy here, she would wrap her arms around me and say, 'I love you.'
"Then she went there and her mother would never let me see her. I knew something was wrong, but there was nothing I could do. The agency wouldn't let me," Mercuris said.
Rickiana died Sunday, a victim of child abuse syndrome, authorities said.
Venisha Clark, 21, was charged with murder after confessing she beat her daughter with a plastic doll because the girl wouldn't stop crying, cops said.
The city's Administration for Children's Services is investigating how the social worker assigned to monitor Rickiana and her two siblings missed signs of abuse during monthly visits.
"We are investigating all of the aspects of the case," said ACS spokeswoman Leonora Wiener, who added that no calls about Rickiana were received by an abuse hotline.
Wiener declined to comment on Mercuris' claims, but confirmed the 50-year-old Brooklyn woman was Rickiana's foster mom from July 1998 to February.
Rickiana and her 3-year-old brother, Bobby, were placed into foster care after the boy was severely beaten by a family friend, authorities said.
Clark had regained custody of Bobby and Rickiana after taking parenting classes.
Mercuris said she plans to raise money to give a proper burial to the child who, for seven months, called her "Mommy."
"I have to give her a good sendoff, poor sad little baby," Mercuris said through sobs.
"It hurts me what must have passed through her little mind when this was happening to her," she said.
"And it hurts me to think I was right here the whole time."
Sept. 26, 1999 -- In the days after 2-year-old Rickiana Campbell was beaten to death, allegedly by her mother, no relative stepped forward to claim the toddler's remains.
She was bound for a pauper's grave in Potter's Field, the city's burial ground for the unclaimed dead.
Rickiana's neighbors found that unacceptable, and yesterday they banded together to give her a proper funeral and a show of love that was so sorely missing from her life.
"We did it because it was the right thing to do," said Vanessa Reed, misty-eyed after the brief service at St. Lucy Old Catholic Church on Kent Ave. in Brooklyn.
The church donated the cost of the service. Rickiana's foster mother paid for the tiny pink casket. Neighbors raised $700 for flowers and wreaths.
"At least she went away with formality," said Msgr. Elias Milazzo, who attended the service. "Love and nurturing. Maybe at this late hour, she got what she never had."
Rickiana died Sept. 12, a victim of child abuse. Her mother, Venisha Clark, 21, of Bedford-Stuyvesant, was charged with murder after confessing that she beat Rickiana with a plastic doll because the child would not stop crying.
Her death culminated a short, stormy life in which she bounced between foster care and her mother's apartment. Rickiana and her brother Bobby, 3, were placed in foster care last year after the boy was beaten by a family friend.
Their mother regained custody in February after taking parenting classes.
"Rickiana should still be here," said her foster mother, Cicely Mercurius. "I told her mother that if there was a problem, all she had to do was call me.
"Just call me, call me, that's all," Mercurius said, her voice trailing off. "I could've helped."
More than 100 mourners went to the child's wake Friday night. About two dozen attended the funeral. They heard Bishop Vincent Crisci describe Rickiana as "an infant who will never know what it is to grow up here on Earth, who will never have the things girls have."
After an array of prayers, the pastor asked if anyone had anything to say. Tony Burke, 25, a nephew of the toddler's foster mother, rose and recalled how Rickiana once called out his name.
"I didn't even know she could talk," Burke said. "She always had these little surprises."
"We got to take care of our kids," he said. "This craziness has got to stop."
An usher opened the casket, and the mourners and a cluster of small children filed by for a final look at Rickiana, her small body covered with white lace.
A man bowed his head. A woman put her arm around a little girl who stood next to her. They followed the casket onto the street and watched as it was loaded into the back of a hearse for the trip to Rosehill Cemetary in New Jersey.
"She never had a chance," said Emily Delgado, shaking her head as the procession drove off. "Such a shame."
Logan E. Bratton 3-year-old
3-year-old who loved dogs and trampolines
Cops suspect abuse in local boy's death
By Greg Cima Pantagraph 4/5/07
BLOOMINGTON -- A boy who flashed his eyes at little girls and loved to play with SpongeBob SquarePants toys may have died because of abuse, authorities said Thursday.
Three-year-old Logan E. Bratton of Bloomington was pronounced dead about 8:40 p.m. Wednesday at OSF Saint Francis Medical Center in Peoria, police said. Peoria County Coroner Johnna Ingersoll said the boy was unresponsive when rescue workers initially took him to BroMenn Regional Medical Center in Normal.
"The indications are that the injuries Logan sustained are non-accidental," Ingersoll said. She wouldn't comment on his cause of death or signs of trauma because the case is being investigated as a homicide.
The boy lived with his mother and her boyfriend in Bloomington, Ingersoll said. Ingersoll said the 911 call was made at 12:18 p.m. Wednesday, and fire department logs show an ambulance dispatched at that time went to the 800 block of West Washington Street.
A police squad car sat in that block Thursday afternoon, and a police officer answered the door at an apartment at 818 W. Washington St. when a Pantagraph reporter knocked. An officer remained stationed late Thursday night at the doorway of the apartment.
Bloomington police issued a short statement about the boy's death about noon Thursday, but could not be reached later in the day and throughout the evening.
Willie Bratton of Peoria, who identified himself as Logan's father, said he called police late Sunday afternoon after a relative told him the boy was bruised.
Bratton said he hadn't seen the boy since December. The boy's mother had custody of the child, he said.
Bratton described Logan as an average 3-year-old who loved dogs and trampolines. Bratton said he was at OSF Saint Francis until late Wednesday, and he commended hospital workers for their compassion.
Logan's grandmother, Connie Smith of Peoria, said Logan was cheerful but shy. Yet, he liked to pucker his lips and flash his eyes at little girls, she said.
Smith said Logan lived with her on and off for half his life, or "maybe a little more." She said the boy enjoyed playing with SpongeBob SquarePants and Dragon Ball Z toys, eating chicken strips, playing basketball and watching cartoons.
Her grandson loved hugs and kisses and asked Smith to lift him, she said.
"?Grandma, I wanna hold you,' " Smith quoted Logan as saying. "?I just want to hold you.'"
Toddler's death possible homicide
By Jessica Wheeler WHOI Thursday, April 05, 2007
Bloomington Police and the department of children and family services are investigating the death of a 3-year-old boy.
Logan Bratton was pronounced dead at 8:30 Wednesday night at OSF Saint Francis Medical Center.
The Peoria County Coroner says they are investigating the death as a homicide.
Bloomington police say it appears Logan died from abuse.
"There's evidence probably from, there's physical evidence from the boy's body and probably some conversations with our detectives and the personal in the coroners office in Peoria that indicates that it's a potential cause of the death," said Duane Moss with the Bloomington Police Department.
We spoke with Logan's father, Willie Bratton, who does not have custody of the toddler, he believes Logan's mother and boyfriend are responsible for the abuse.
Bratton says he was notified by a relative of the child's mother this past weekend that the boy was being abused.
Bratton said he called Bloomington Police on Sunday to report the abuse and nothing was done.
"Saturday my mother was called by the same aunt who said Logan was in town for a birthday party and said that he was bruised on his rear end and he had marks on his face and a he had a piece missing off his tongue where they think he bit his tongue off," said Willie Bratton.
Bratton was then notified on Wednesday afternoon that Logan was in the hospital and had little chance to live.
"When I seen him he was in a coma, he had no brain wave activity what so ever, he wasn't conscious he was on a ventilator - all the scary stuff that you see on TV that you never want for you kid."
Bloomington Police would not say if they were investigating Logan's mother before the incident occurred.
We also called DCFS who said they received a complaint of neglect against Logan's mother on March 26th and investigated it promptly. They would not say what the investigation involved.
No arrests have been made.
Boy's death under investigation Bloomington child died of head injuries
BY FITZGERALD M. DOUBET THE JOURNAL STAR Friday, April 6, 2007
BLOOMINGTON - The death of a 3-year-old Bloomington boy who suffered head injuries is being investigated as a homicide, Peoria County Coroner Johnna Ingersoll said Thursday. Logan Bratton was pronounced dead at about 8:40 p.m. Wednesday at OSF Saint Francis Medical Center in Peoria.
Because of his head injuries, it was "just a matter of hours because he was declared brain dead," Ingersoll said.
Logan lived with his mother, Donetta Ernst, at 818 W. Washington, Apt. A. Paramedics took him to BroMenn Regional Medical Center in Normal after a 911 call from his home shortly before noon Wednesday. He was transferred by LifeFlight helicopter to St. Francis.
In a brief news release Thursday, Bloomington police said the boy's death is believed to have resulted from abuse, but there have been no arrests.
"I don't want revenge. I just want justice," Willie Bratton, 29, Logan's father, said Thursday.
Bratton alleges his son was in an abusive situation with Ernst and her boyfriend, and he had asked officials to investigate.
"Somebody didn't do their job," Bratton said. "I did what I was supposed to do the right way. I called the police. I reported it."
In their news release, Bloomington police said no other information can be released at this time because their investigation is at a early stage.
Gladys Campbell 2-year-old
Gladys Campbell was beaten to death by her foster mother.
Philadelphia, PA -- On June 9, 1988, Gladys Campbell was beaten to death by her foster mother, Colleen Chavez, who was sentenced to a seven-year-term in prison after pleading guilty to aggravated manslaughter.
Philadelphia authorities had taken Gladys from her natural mother, a drug addict judged incapable of caring for her. They in turn referred Gladys to the Easton institution which in turn placed Gladys in the foster family.
Glady's grandmother, also named Gladys Campbell filed a federal lawsuit against the city of Philadelphia and the Easton institution and it's director. The city has settled with the terms of the settlement being secret. The case is not pending against the remaining defendants.
The Easton home through a contract with Philadelphia provided placement for minors referred from the city's Department of Human Services.
The basic claim of the lawsuit was depriving the child of her life without due process as well as counts for wrongful death and survival action.
The grandmother charged that the defendants placed the child in an out-of-state foster home without adequately investigating the foster parents and without notifying her relatives.
A U.S. District Judge in a pretrial ruling let stand all claims against the Children's Home and its director.
He recited six types of failure of the home and the administrator in screening and supervising foster parents for the 2-year-old.
Those included providing no training for foster parents, disregarding minimum requirements for supervising them and failing to comply with regulations for screening them.
Those factors could lead a jury to conclude the home and its director acted with deliberate indifference to the child's welfare, the judge said.
But he dismissed counts of wrongful death and survival action against the Philadelphia defendants.
He left the due process claim.
The judge said the Philadelphia agency had a monitoring unit to check service providers like the Easton home, but it did little monitoring.
That could be interpreted as a "policy of inaction or insufficient action" leading to depriving the child of her life without due process.
Lydia Alday 2-year-old
Death of toddler in foster care under investigation
(6/09/07 - KTRK/BRAZORIA COUNTY, TX) - A two-year-old girl died in her foster home in Brazoria County last night. It happened just a day before her father was supposed to get custody of her and her younger brother.
Child Protective Services is investigating the death, which happened while the little girl was taking a nap.
The police department is investigating the tragic death of Lydia Alday. She was supposed to go home today with her dad, but only her 18-month-old brother Jacob made it.
Yesterday around 6:15pm, police and EMS got a phone call that said that a little girl was not breathing. By the time they got to the foster home to try to revive the girl, it was already too late. She was pronounced dead at the scene.
Today, investigators are looking into the death. They are investigating the death as a suspicious death because the girl was only two years old. They say right now, everyone is cooperating.
The parents lost custody of the kids after CPS determined their living conditions were unsafe. The father was just awarded custody of the kids last week and was supposed to get them today.
The Galveston medical examiner's office is conducting an autopsy to determine the cause of death.
Mia Jorris 2-year-old
Died - March 23,2007
Allen Co. sheriff investigates death of 2-year-old girl
JENNIFER FEEHAN BLADE STAFF WRITER Toledo Blade March 28, 2007
LIMA, Ohio - Saying he was "freaking out," Daniel Stiles told a 911 operator his girlfriend's 2-year-old daughter was "barely breathing."
Her stomach was bloated, he said, and she wouldn't respond to him.
"I hear her crying. I went in the room, and she wouldn't do anything," Mr. Stiles said during the 911 call he placed just before noon Friday.
Allen County sheriff's deputies and paramedics arrived at a duplex on Stevick Road about four miles west of Lima a short time later and rushed the little girl, Mia Jorris, to St. Rita's Medical Center, where she was pronounced dead.
Allen County Sheriff Dan Beck said that while deputies were at the duplex, they found that Mia's 3-year-old brother, Matthew Jorris, also was hurt.
The little boy, who had sustained blunt force trauma to the abdomen, was taken to St. Rita's and then transferred to Toledo Children's Hospital, the sheriff said. A hospital spokesman said she had no information on Matthew.
"He was struck at least once - probably. We're still sorting out what happened," Sheriff Beck said yesterday.
Mr. Stiles, 29, was arraigned yesterday in Lima Municipal Court on one count of felonious assault stemming from the attack on Matthew. Judge William Lauber set bond at $500,000 but said Mr. Stiles could post 10 percent of that. A preliminary hearing was set for April 3.
Sheriff Beck said he anticipated additional charges being filed stemming from the death of Mia, although those may not come until after a grand jury convenes. He said the little girl's death is being investigated as a homicide, although investigators had not yet received the autopsy results.
Dr. Gary Beasley, Allen County coroner, said yesterday that he did not have a "confirmatory cause" of death for Mia and could not comment further on the case, which remains under investigation. An autopsy was conducted Monday at the Lucas County Coroner's Office, Toledo.
Sheriff Beck said detectives interviewed several people, including the children's mother. He said it was unclear where she was at the time the children were assaulted.
"We have a fairly good idea of what happened, but we need to finalize our interviews," he said.
The sheriff said Allen County Children's Services had been to the residence several times prior to Friday's incident.
Scott Ferris, executive director of the child protection agency, said he could not comment on the case because of the ongoing criminal investigation but said his agency was cooperating with the sheriff and prosecutor.
"The case record we have has been seized and is being used as part of the investigation," he said.
Diego Aguado 2-month-old
There are others who share the responsibility too.
Chicago, IL -- Convicted and sentenced to 60 years in prison for Diego Aguado's 1993 death was his father, Saul Aguado, however he has never served a day of that sentence.
He and his wife, who also kidnapped their 8-year-old son, Francisco who had been placed with relatives by Child Protective Services, have been traveling between Mexico and the U.S. with little fear of arrest. Aguado owes his freedom to a cadre of supporters and relatives who, despite his guilty plea, refuse to believe he is a murderer and have helped him escape authorities.
There are others who share the responsibility too. The judge and prosecutor who did not consider him, a Mexican immigrant, a flight risk and so let him remain free prior to the start of his prison term. There are the child welfare officials who failed to stop him and his wife from seeing their surviving son without supervision, a violation of agency rules. And there are local and federal investigators who have done little to track him down, even though a newspaper reporter doing a story on the case was able to locate him in a small village in Mexico and interview him on the telephone.
Now, five years after Diego was killed, and nearly four years after his father pleaded guilty, the murder case is, technically closed even though the confessed killer remains at large.
In a statement to police, Aguado said Diego's crying that morning had angered him. He reached over from his bed and yanked hard on Diego's baby seat, flipping it over. Diego flew out of the seat and rolled across the floor. "His head was pounding on the floor," according to the statement. "Diego stopped rolling because Diego's head slammed into the metal bed frame."
Diego began shaking uncontrollably and had difficulty breathing. He was in a coma for nine months before he died.
Even though Aguado said he never hit his son and because he was tired and scared he decided to tell the police anything they wanted to hear. But the case against him was strong. An autopsy showed that Diego died of massive head injuries that could not have been caused, as Aguado claimed, by chronic respiratory and heart problems. Nor were the injuries caused, as his lawyer argued, accidentally when Aguado tried to revive Diego, according to the coroner who examined him.
Aguado told the judge that law enforcement officials threatened to throw his wife in prison and withhold medical treatment for Diego, who was still in a coma, unless he took responsibility for his son's injuries. The police officer and prosecutor who took Aguado's confession denied in court that they ever threatened him. The judge didn't believe him and the confession would stand. So facing mounting legal bills and a potential 199-year prison sentence if he lost the case, Aguado decided to plead guilty to killing his son in exchange for a 35-year sentence. He was then allowed to remain free on bail until the following month when he was to start his prison sentence.
There are outstanding arrest warrants for Aguado and his wife, who was charged with abducting Francisco. But the Aguados, who are living under assumed names, would have to be arrested in the U.S. on another offense and their real identities discovered through fingerprints before authorities could learn about their fugitive status.
Since Aguado fled, the plea deal was scuttled and the judge increased the sentence to 60 years. Today the couple and their children, they've since had a daughter, are still believed to be in Mexico.
Zion Richardson 3-month-old
May 23 ,2007
The May 23 death of 3-month-old Zion Richardson, which appears to have been a sudden unexplained infant death, but with aspects of a "co-sleeping" death. Zion's family had been under DHS oversight until March 2006.
Brian Wilson 4-year-old
June 12, 2007
Fire victim mourned; Family pleased they had chance to adopt boy and his brother
A four-year-old boy who died in a garage fire Tuesday started out as a tiny miracle after his mother had already adopted his brother two years earlier.
It was a "blessing" when Bobbi Wilson found out that she had the chance to adopt Brian, the blood brother of her son.
"He (Brian) was like a little miracle," said Terri Hazell, his aunt. "And now he's gone. No one expects a four-year-old to die."
Yesterday, as she stood in the yard outside the Lisle home where Brian Wilson lived, about 30 kilometres west of Barrie, fire investigators continued to shuffle through blackened debris in a garage where the boy died.
Fire officials say they still don't know what caused the fire that broke out in the garage, which was used as a tool and garden shed, Tuesday morning.
"All of the kids knew they were not allowed to play in there," Hazell said.
"I guess that makes kids more curious to see what's in there."
Her mouth trembled as she stifled her tears to talk about her nephew.
Other times she smiled as she remembered his favourite toys.
"Fire trucks and dinosaurs," she said.
"And he had a pair of cowboy boots that he would never take off, even when he went to bed."
It was routine to see little Brian roaring around the house wearing his dinosaur costume with his cowboy boots on.
"He was always happy. A real blessing," she said.
Brian's mother had waited 10 years to adopt a child when finally, his older brother, Ben, came along. Two years later, Brian was born, but the Simcoe County Children's Aid Society didn't realize he had a brother until he was five months old.
"It took some piecing of the puzzle to find where he was," Hazell said. "And now he's gone."
She said Brian was supposed to start school in the fall.
She said the family has decided not to disclose funeral details because they want to keep it private.
"It will be hard enough to get through this," Hazell said.
Meanwhile, Adjala-Tosorontio Fire Chief Paul Boissonneault, said the father and son firefighters that made a "heroic" effort to save the boy, remain traumatized over the loss.
He said he was disappointed when he heard that some media reported the father and son, who are volunteers, did not wear proper fire gear.
"That is incorrect," he said. "They were dressed in bunker hats, boots, coats and pants."
He said they did not have a breathing apparatus, but firefighters are trained to work without them.
"They took a risk to save a young boys' life," Boissonneault said.
Boy set deadly blaze: police; Youngster, 4, died of smoke and hot-air inhalation Local News - Friday, June 15, 2007 @ 07:00
The four-year-old boy who died following a garage fire Tuesday in Lisle appears to have accidentally set the blaze himself using materials found in the garage, police said yesterday.
Brian Wilson, 4, was alone at the time. His parents were in the house adjacent to the garage, which is normally locked, when the fire started, Nottawasaga OPP said.
A post-mortem examination conducted Wednesday identified the cause of death as smoke and hot-air inhalation. Toxicology test results will not be available for several weeks. The fire marshal's office has completed its investigation. Their final report is expected to follow toxicology results.
Police were called to the fire scene, located on Concession Road 2 in Adjala-Tosorontio Township, on Tuesday at 11:17 a.m.. The garage was on fire and the boy was trapped inside.
Two volunteer firefighters rushed into the garage and retrieved the boy. He was taken to Stevenson Memorial Hospital in Alliston where he was pronounced dead.
TRACY McLAUGHLIN
Gregory Bryant-Bruce 10-year-old
Judge returns baby to parents mistakenly suspected of abuse - Cheryl and Gregory Bryant-Bruce
A woman whose child was taken from her and her husband 19 months ago after doctors suspected the baby had been abused, screamed and broke into tears after a Clarksville, TN, judge recently ordered that the child be returned to the couple.
"This is just an incredible heady feeling. Exhilaration. Relief I just can't explain the relief," the 2-year-old's mother, Dr. Cheryl Bryant Bruce, said as tears streamed down her face.
U.S. District Judge Robert Wedemeyer said he was acting in the best interest of the child, Gregory Bryant-Bruce Jr., who has a fatal liver condition. It isn't known how long Gregory has to live.
Before he was returned, Gregory's parents didn't know what they were going to say to their son after such a long absence without seeing him. "I'm just going to embrace him and say 'Daddy loves you,'" said Gregory Bryant-Bruce Sr.
They lost custody of Gregory when he was 6 months old after doctors who examined him in Nashville decided on the basis of the bleeding in his eyes and brain that he suffered shaken infant syndrome.
As it turns out, Gregory suffers from Alagille's Syndrome, a rare liver disease which doctors have said can be misconstrued with child abuse.
Gregory Bryant-Bruce, who made news in custody fight as baby, dies By CHRISTIAN BOTTORFF Staff Writer
Gregory Bryant-Bruce, the child who made national headlines in 1994 when his physician mother kidnapped him from Tennessee foster care, has died at his mother's home in Belmont, Calif., from complications related to his rare liver disease. The 10-year-old's breathing became abnormal Sunday and his mother, Cheryl Bryant-Bruce, held him in her arms until he died peacefully at 9:33 a.m., said the boy's maternal grandmother, Thelma Bryant.
''Cheryl just held him close and called her other two children to come downstairs and say their goodbyes to him,'' Bryant said. The child's death was attributed to complications from Alagille's syndrome, the rare liver disorder he had since birth. ''He closed his eyes, took his last breath and he just went. If there's angels, he's definitely one,'' Bryant said. ''He fought a good, long fight.''
The morning of his death, for the first time, his tiny face appeared to capture a smile, she said. ''It was like, 'I'm OK, I'm at peace,' '' she said yesterday by telephone from her daughter's home. Even so, the boy's death came as no surprise. He was hospitalized in recent weeks after experiencing external bleeding that would have required extensive surgery to fix, even a ventilator. His mother opted not to put him through the procedures, his grandmother said. He returned home the day before Thanksgiving.
''He lived the last few months of his life to the fullest,'' his mother said in an Associated Press report. ''He took a trip to Disneyland and got to dance with (Disney characters) Lilo and Stitch, which is what he wanted. ''On Thanksgiving Day, the fire department (in San Mateo County) made him a junior firefighter and got him a Christmas tree.''
The child's story captured national attention almost a decade ago.
Bryant-Bruce and the child's father, Gregory Bryant-Bruce Sr., lost custody in December 1993 after doctors at Vanderbilt University Medical Center said that bleeding around the baby's eyes was evidence that he had been shaken or dropped repeatedly. The mother had taken the infant to Vanderbilt when he appeared lethargic. Doctors examined him and determined it was a case of possible child abuse. They referred the case to the Tennessee Department of Human Services, which placed him in a foster home.
In February 1995 Cheryl Bryant-Bruce, herself a physician, took her son from a state-sponsored foster-care facility in Nashville and rushed him to Emory University's Egleston Children's Hospital in Atlanta for an independent evaluation. Doctors there determined his complications were from the disorder.
Bryant-Bruce was arrested on a criminal charge of custodial interference, and the boy was temporarily brought back to a DHS-approved foster home here two weeks later under court order. But the criminal charge was dropped when a Davidson County grand jury refused to indict the mother. A Montgomery County judge ordered Gregory returned to his parents in June 1995.
The Bryant-Bruces filed a lawsuit against Vanderbilt, seeking $75 million. The couple said Vanderbilt doctors misdiagnosed their son's internal bleeding as child abuse and that DHS used the diagnosis to keep the child away from them for almost 18 months, despite medical proof that the bleeding was from the rare disorder.
A settlement was reached. Vanderbilt never admitted wrongdoing but agreed to put $100,000 into a medical care trust fund for the child, who was born eight weeks prematurely and with multiple medical problems at an Ohio military hospital.
In a brief statement released yesterday, Vanderbilt officials said, ''We are very sorry for the Bryant-Bruce family's loss.'' The child's father could not be reached for comment. Gregory is survived by his parents; his grandparents, Thelma and Curtis Bryant Sr.; a brother, Christopher, 14; and a sister, Dominique, 17. A public memorial service will be at 11 a.m. Saturday at St. John's Baptist Church, 1050 Bay Road, East Palo Alto, Calif. Private interment will be at the San Joaquin Valley National Cemetery, 32053 West McCabe Road, Gustine, Calif.
The family has requested that instead of flowers, donations be sent to the Gregory Center, founded, directed and operated by Cheryl Bryant-Bruce as a resource and service center for children with disabilities.
Tyrell Rowe 19-month-old
Social workers Criticised over baby's death
Social workers at an east London council have been criticised by a judge who heard that a baby died only six days after it had been taken off an "at risk" register.
Tyrell Rowe, who was 19-months old, died in hospital on 17 October from brain damage after being repeatedly punched in the face.
The Old Bailey heard that after his death a number of other broken bones were discovered which had been caused in the previous two months.
Hackney Council social services had been supervising the baby, but had not examined him during that period.
On Friday Judge Anthony Morris criticised the council for not making public an internal investigation into the death.
"Lack of protection"
"I find it regrettable because the purpose of such an investigation must be how such failures occurred and to prevent them happening again," he said.
"I am disappointed by the apparent lack of protection given to Tyrell by the social services department."
Sandra Rowe, 29, and John White, 37, Tyrell's parents, had originally been charged with murder.
But, the court was told, the couple from Stoke Newington, north London, could only be prosecuted for child cruelty, alleging that they did not get medical help for his earlier injuries.
White, who pleaded guilty to child cruelty, was given a three-year jail sentence.
Tyrell's mother, who has a low IQ and the reading age of a five-year-old, had been found at an earlier hearing to be unfit to plead.
"Decision to return child"
A jury later found she had committed the act and Judge Morris placed her under a supervision and treatment order with Lambeth social services, south London, for two years.
Tyrell had been under the supervision of Hackney social services since his birth, but was removed from he child protection register six days before his death.
After the case, Hackney Council said: "The death of any child is a tragedy. This is especially so in Tyrell's case where a wide range of professionals and the courts were involved in the decision to return the child to his parent's care.
"The Area Child Protection Committee is concluding its investigation. Recommendations will be implemented by the respective agencies.
"Appropriate action will be taken as required if individual failings are identified."
Brandon Williams ,5-year-old
Child Protective Services workers had been trying to find 5-year-old Brandon Williams for five months before he died, after Amphitheater Public Schools district officials raised questions about his health and welfare when he stopped showing up for school in October.
But neither that early warning, nor a Pima County Sheriff's Department visit to his home a week before his death, could save the boy.
His mother, Diane Marsh, and a roommate, Flower Tompson, have been charged with homicide. An indictment accuses them of administering a fatal overdose of over-the-counter drugs to calm him down.
In addition to scars on his wrists and ankles from having been bound, and severe burns on his feet from having been dipped in scalding water, police reports newly released on Tuesday include references to witchcraft practiced in the home he shared with his mother, Tompson and Tompson's boyfriend, although police don't link that to his death.
They also refer to investigators questioning Tompson's boyfriend about an anal injury the boy suffered, but the reports don't specify the nature of the injury or what they think might have caused it.
School disappearance
Child Protective Services records on the Marsh family date back to 1999, long before Brandon was born.
Marsh's two teenage boys had been removed from her home in 2005 and 2006.
The latter removal came at Marsh's request after one of the brothers threatened to harm Marsh and grabbed Brandon by the face.
The first CPS record on Brandon came shortly thereafter. In late September or early October, Amphi officials contacted CPS because Brandon, a special-needs student at Helen Keeling Elementary, stopped showing up at school.
Brandon missed eight straight days of class, and officials were concerned about his health and welfare, said Todd Jaeger, the district's attorney and associate superintendent.
Even before then, Brandon's school attendance had been choppy and marked by transfers. He attended preschool at Marion Donaldson Elementary and briefly attended Lulu Walker Elementary before Marsh transferred him to Keeling, Jaeger said.
Brandon never returned to Keeling, and Jaeger said Marsh never asked the district to transfer Brandon's records to another school.
"We didn't know" where he was, Jaeger said.
But school officials notified CPS.
A CPS investigator first attempted to contact Brandon in October, records show.
On Oct. 16, the CPS investigator requested a deputy to accompany her, but when they went to Marsh's home on West Wheatridge Drive, no one was there. The investigator tried again the next day.
While she was calling the Pima County Sheriff's Department's communication unit, however, the investigator spotted Marsh driving away. As she spoke with the Sheriff's Department, she lost track of Marsh, who had driven into the city of Tucson.
The failed attempts marked the start of a series of efforts to locate Marsh over the next few months, said Liz Barker, CPS spokeswoman.
"In the fall of 2006, over the course of several months, there were repeated attempts to locate Mrs. Marsh and Brandon," Barker said. "These included numerous attempts to locate them at their home. It included several contacts in his school to find out if his records had been transferred."
Barker said the investigator even visited Marsh's bank. But the attempts were unsuccessful.
A missing-persons report
It wasn't until March 15, a week before Brandon's death, that a deputy made contact.
Marsh's father had filed a missing-persons report on her.
Jeff Pankow, a family friend, told Deputy Lillian George that he not seen Marsh in two months. Pankow told the deputy when he last saw Marsh, "she was cowering and seemed in such a state that she could not answer for herself."
Instead, another woman, later identified as Tompson, answered questions and seemingly dominated Marsh's life.
Marsh's father said he had last heard from his daughter in October when she called him, desperate for money while also claiming "witchcraft was being performed in her house," the report states. Pankow also told deputies about conversations with Marsh about witchcraft, seances and ceremonies with razors spread on the floor.
George first went to Marsh's house, which had recently caught fire. Workers remodeling the home directed her to a North Side apartment provided by Marsh's insurance company.
There, George briefly spoke to a neighbor who said it seemed Brandon never appeared to be going to school and that the overall situation "was just strange."
It took multiple knocks on the door, but eventually Flower Tompson answered
Inside the apartment, the deputy saw Brandon.
"His feet and legs were heavily bandaged," she wrote in her report.
When the deputy asked what had happened, Marsh said Brandon had "fallen into the gravel and got cut up by cacti," the report states.
The interview was awkward, George wrote. There were numerous points when Tompson attempted to answer questions directed toward Marsh.
Eventually George asked to speak with Marsh alone, then asked Marsh if she was being held against her will. Marsh said she wasn't.
George said she would file her report to Child Protective Services, ending the interview.
"Ms. Marsh appeared to be well rested, well fed and not in any type of duress," George wrote.
The report wasn't transcribed until March 22, the day after Brandon died, and Deputy Dawn Barkman, spokeswoman for the Pima County Sheriff's Department, said it was never sent to CPS.
She said George followed department procedure. She investigated the missing-persons complaint and was in the process of forwarding her report to CPS. There is no indication in the report that she interviewed Brandon.
"She didn't see any signs of exigent circumstances," Barkman said. She said the deputy was checking on a missing person, who was located and appeared well. Although the boy's feet were bandaged, there was no cause to doubt the mother's explanation.
Barkman said she didn't know if George had access to Brandon's CPS case history.
When police next returned to Marsh's apartment on March 22, it was in response to a 911 call because Brandon, who had been heavily sedated hours earlier, was no longer breathing.
Marsh and Tompson had gone to the hospital with the boy, but Tompson's boyfriend, Mark Moss, 47, was still at the apartment.
Included in their questions, they asked Moss about injuries to Brandon's anus. Moss, who told the detectives he had a previous sex-crime conviction in California, said he knew nothing about the injury and would not do something like that.
The story of Anthony Bars the 4-year-old boy who was starved and beaten to death in Indiana by foster parents with a criminal record of child abuse?continues.
Due to media and public outrage, the caseworker who recommended removing Anthony from an earlier, loving foster parent is facing charges. Denise Moore is accused of official misconduct and of falsifying reports in an adoption proceeding: misdemeanor offenses.
Sadly, Anthony is just one in a long list of children neglected or abused by Child Protective Services in state after state. In his case, the press is still pounding on why child welfare officials never disciplined Moore for her actions and cited state confidentiality laws at almost every question asked.
Emerging scandals and conflicts in Indiana and elsewhere should not be allowed to distract from more fundamental questions: When should a third party have the terrible right to separate a child from its parents? By what right do civil servants have to enter your home and threaten to remove your children if you do not answer accusations of abuse?often accusations made anonymously?to their satisfaction?
The increased power of child welfare agencies to do so comes from legislation dating back to the Mondale Act of 1974. That act established huge financial incentives for state agencies to uncover abuse, without providing checks or balances to protect those wrongfully accused. It also virtually immunized child welfare workers and false accusers from liability.
But a power is not a right. If it were, then everything you have the power to do would also be proper for you to do.
What, then, are rights?
A right is an enforceable claim that an individual has against all other people; it carries a corresponding duty to respect those rights in others. For example, your right to freedom of religion comes with the corresponding duty to respect the right of others to reach their own conclusions. Rights and responsibilities are two sides of the same social coin.
Otherwise stated: Every peaceful human being has a moral jurisdiction over his or her own body and property that no one else can justly violate.
Few acts symbolize this moral jurisdiction more clearly than the right to close a front door behind you and lock out the world. This act dramatizes the difference between the private and the public spheres.
"A man's home is his castle" is a phrase coined by civil rights attorney Clarence Darrow. It means people are rulers within their own homes, which others have no right to enter without permission.
The concept is embedded within the Bill of Rights, specifically the Fourth Amendment:
"The right of the people to be secure in their persons, houses, papers, and effects, against unreasonable searches and seizures, shall not be violated, and no warrants shall issue, but upon probable cause, supported by oath or affirmation ..."
This concept is a line of defense for the individual and family against unwarranted intrusion by government.
What constitutes warranted intrusion? A credible and specific reason to believe the rights of people within that house are being violated. It becomes proper for third parties to break down a door for the same reason it is proper for them to stop a mugging on the street: to protect the victim. If a parent uses violence against a child, he or she has abandoned the responsibility to respect the rights of others. He or she can no longer demand an automatic and similar respect from others.
In short, the Fourth Amendment is not a blank check to engage in violence under the guise of privacy. But it is a clear and compelling demand that any individual or agency who breaks down a door must do so on credible evidence, not anonymous tips, and that everyone accused must receive due process. Moreover, any third party who is later found to have acted from malice or other gross misconduct should be legally liable for those actions.
The fact that parents accused of child abuse are not currently accorded due process?indeed, they are "guilty until proven innocent"?reflects a 180 degree change in society's attitude toward the home and the family. The family used to be viewed as a private realm into which the law entered with extreme caution.
Since the '70s, however, the family per se has been under attack as a breeding ground of domestic violence, child abuse, and other brutality. This change in attitude is largely rooted in a brand of feminism that arose in the '70s: gender feminism, which has exerted great influence over laws concerning women and children. Gender feminism views men and women as separate and antagonistic classes, with the family being another expressed of gender conflict.
Accordingly, a closed door in-and-of-itself is reason to suspect the presence of violence. Warrants, probable cause, and oaths are no longer deemed necessary.
They should be.
And, without them, front doors in North America should slam shut and remain closed.
Denise C. Moore became the first child welfare caseworker in Indiana to be convicted and sentenced for on-the-job failures, as she was sentenced Wednesday to 18 months probation.
Superior Court Judge Robert Altice also ordered Moore to perform 260 hours of community service for her conviction of obstruction of justice.
Moore gave false information to an adoption judge who placed infant twins Anthony and Latoya with the adoptive parents who later beat and starved them.
Altice comments were extremely scathing, describing Indiana's child welfare system as "bureaucracy at its worst. Caseloads were way too high (and) the filing system was something out of the Middle Ages," he said.
Adoptive parents Latricia and L.B. Bars were later convicted in the 2002 death of 4-year-old Anthony Bars and in causing permanent injuries to Latoya.
last modified: 2/24/2005 7:03:22 AM
Richard L Aragon, 2-year-old
'Someone Beat the Hell Out of This Kid'
VICTIM: Ricky Aragon Jr., age 2, taken into state custody after mother found sniffing paint. INJURY: Beaten to death in grandmother's foster care home. OUTCOME: Grandmother, Josefita Romero, is sentenced to 15 years in prison; state pays child's estate $599,469.
Rosalie Montoya listened as the baby next door screamed, just like he'd been screaming every day for the past two weeks. Montoya, who was doing yard work, noticed her neighbor's mobile home vibrate, "as if something very large, like a piece of furniture, had been hurled against the wall." Inside, 52-year-old Josefita Romero demanded, "shut up." There was the sound of water splashing. "Oh my God," the neighbor heard Romero cry out. "Mi hijito, breathe." Then only silence. * * * Neighbors heard the warning sounds. Social workers weren't around to see the warning signs. Two-year-old Ricky Aragon Jr. lost his life at the hands of his maternal grandmother -- a state-authorized relative foster parent.
When he died of head injuries April 12, 1993, human teeth marks were visible on his face, left knee and right elbow. "Someone beat the hell out of this kid," a physician at the state Office of the Medical Investigator told investigators at the time. Romero, now 52, pleaded guilty in late 1993 to child abuse causing death and was sentenced to 15 years in prison. Last year, the state paid $599,496 to settle a lawsuit alleging that mistakes and omissions by state social workers led to Ricky's death. The settlement came after lawyers for the boy's estate discovered Romero had once been investigated for hitting one of her own daughters, said Albuquerque lawyer Mary Han, one of the attorneys for the child's estate. Timothy Flynn-O'Brien, an Albuquerque lawyer who represented the social workers, said confidentiality laws bar him from commenting. Social workers maintained Romero's home appeared safe. The case -- the first reported death of a child in New Mexico foster care in recent years -- underscores all that can go wrong in the foster care system. From early 1989 to 1991, state child protective services had received a half-dozen complaints that Ricky's mother was sniffing paint and jeopardizing the safety of her children. In July 1989, Ricky's older sister went to foster care after police arrested the mother for child abuse and drug abuse. Ricky was eight months old when the state took him into custody in 1991. Social workers believed his mother was still sniffing paint, court records show. Ricky's older sister was placed with his great-grandmother. So the state placed Ricky with his maternal grandmother, Romero -- a divorcee with a history of alcoholism. Court records show the social worker who placed the child in Romero's care never formally looked into the woman's background, what is called a "home study." The social worker said a supervisor told her simply to "eyeball" the residence. Lawyers for the child's estate said that violated agency policy. Court records show Romero never attended foster-home training and wasn't even licensed to provide foster care. The agency turned over a number of the social workers' responsibilities to Romero, such as regulating and monitoring visits from Ricky's mother. The state paid her from $280 to $300 a month. Ricky was considered a drug-exposed baby and needed physical therapy, occupational therapy and speech/language therapy. But court records show Romero didn't take him. The initial social worker on the case said she may have visited the home once during the child's first four months with Romero. The case was reassigned to social worker Catherine Culver White on Oct. 26, 1992, who had been on the job a month. In court documents, White said she assumed Romero was licensed. Social workers, by internal policy, are supposed to visit foster homes at least monthly. White visited once the six months before Ricky died. White said in court records that her supervisor never told her about the monthly visits. In court documents, her lawyer said White "had limited time (resources) so she prioritized her work and focused on the cases she felt presented the greatest need." "No one disagrees that it would be nice if there were sufficient resources to do everything. (The social worker) did not have sufficient time to visit every child in foster care on a monthly basis and perform all her duties," O'Brien said in a court document. She happened to visit the home about two weeks before the child was killed. It was the same day police responded to a report of suspected child abuse at the mobile home -- but White said she hadn't been notified of the call. Neighbors called police after hearing a baby screaming on March 26, 1993. "It sounded like the child was put in a closet, because I heard a door slam. I heard the child crying and kicking at a door," stated Rosalie Montoya in a statement introduced in the civil lawsuit by the plaintiffs. Albuquerque police said they found no evidence of child abuse. Montoya stopped one of the officers as he left Romero's trailer. "I told him, 'What does it take, for him (Ricky) to physically end up in the hospital before something is done?' '' Montoya said in a court deposition. A CYFD investigation later concluded social workers should make more frequent visits of relative foster homes and conduct "home studies" when placing such children. The $599,496 settlement is in a trust. Ricky's mother is the beneficiary, but is limited in the amount of money she can receive at any one time and must maintain a lawful lifestyle. A community organization involved with children will receive a portion of any money remaining at her death.
Latiana Hamilton 17-month-old
Child's Death in Overcrowded Foster Home Highlights Statewide Problem' Advocates Call for Strike For
Following the death of a 17-month-old child in an overcrowded foster home in Florida and the arrest of her foster mother for first-degree murder, national and local child advocacy groups are calling for an independent federal investigative Strike Force. The Strike Force would immediately investigate all foster homes with more than five children and monitor the safety of children placed in overcrowded foster homes by Florida's Department of Children and Families (DCF). The coalition of child advocates says the conditions surrounding the toddler's death in foster care are not isolated but symptomatic of a failure by DCF to protect and care for foster children throughout the state. A federal audit of the Florida foster care system by the Department of Human Service begins this month. Foster child Latiana Hamilton was found beaten and drowned in a bathtub on July 18. Her foster mother, Lena Cumberbatch, was arrested on July 27 for first-degree murder. Eight children (four foster children and four biological children of Cumberbatch's), ranging in age from 2 months to 10 years, were living in the home. The biological children told police about a history of abuse by Cumberbatch since the foster children arrived. One child witnessed the drowning of Latiana.
"The death of this toddler must be a wake-up call to the citizens of Florida about the dangerous conditions facing all children who enter foster care in our state," said Deborah Schroth of Florida Legal Services, a statewide non-profit organization that is part of a federal class action lawsuit, Bonnie L v. Jeb Bush, charging Florida's foster care system with violating the federal constitutional and statutory rights of children in their care. "These children, in need of the protection of the State, are suffering emotional, physical and even sexual abuse while in the very homes intended to protect them. Other tragedies like Latiana's death are waiting to happen throughout the state."
There are more children in Florida's foster care than ever before (an estimated 18,000 in foster homes, group homes and other facilities). A February 2001 state report on overcrowding found that:
*Out of 4,242 foster homes, 16% of foster homes are over their licensed capacity even though 52% of foster homes are under their licensed capacity. *There are currently 62 foster homes with more than 10 children.
A recent DCF report states that " there may be a substantial number of homes that are over the five-child limit during any given point in time" and that "foster parents who must deal with too many children...are prime targets for stress which may result in maltreatment."
"This death is on the state's hands," stated Karen Gievers, an attorney in Tallahassee who initiated the Bonnie L. lawsuit. "State officials, being aware of the increased risk of maltreatment that comes with homes having more than 5 children, are only examining homes with over 10 children. That is not good enough. Foster children are abused daily in overcrowded homes and now a little girl has been killed. We are calling for an independent federal Strike Force to begin an immediate investigation into all foster homes with more than five children. It must also examine all foster homes that are underutilized to determine if they are capable of caring for children safely."
"The rate of maltreatment of children in Florida foster care is 2,000 times the maximum permissible rate set by the federal government," stated Rose Firestein, an attorney at Children's Rights, a national non-profit child advocacy group that is co-counsel on the Bonnie L. lawsuit. "In the fiscal year 1999-2000, a shockingly high 81 out of every thousand children in Florida's foster care system were neglected or abused by their foster parents or by the staff at a foster care facility. In contrast, 18.9 out of every thousand children in Florida's general population were the subjects of a confirmed report of neglect or abuse at the hands of their biological parents or custodians. Unlike the biological parents who maltreated their children, the foster caregivers were selected, trained, approved and paid by DCF (or its agents) to provide a safe place for children to live."
Background on Bonnie L. v. Jeb Bush The Bonnie L. v. Jeb Bush federal lawsuit was filed in 2000 on behalf of 23 named plaintiffs- children who have suffered serious physical and psychological harm while in the care of DCF and on behalf of the approximately 15,000 foster care children who are currently dependent on DCF for their care and protection. The defendants in the suit include Governor Jeb Bush and Kathleen Kearney, secretary of the Florida Department of Children and Families.
Key facts and claims in the lawsuit regarding overcrowding of foster homes state that:
*DCF's continued overcrowding and inadequately supervised foster homes and other out-of-home care facilities expose children in DCF's custody to the imminent risk of sexual and other abuse, neglect and other dangers while they remain in DCF's care. *DCF has put children in foster care placements that were dangerous, abusive, neglectful, overcrowded or wholly inappropriate and incapable of meeting the children's individual needs.
A federal magistrate in Florida, the Hon. Robert Dubé, recently upheld the legal claims in the lawsuit even thought the state had moved to have all of the legal claims dismissed. He recommended to the district court judge, the Hon. Federico Moreno, that the case proceed as a class action on behalf of all the children in the state. His recommendations are now under consideration by the federal judge and a hearing is scheduled for August 28, 2001.
Isaiah Oliva 14-month-old
Confidentiality shields errors
El Paso and other counties responsible for child abuse investigations keep all records of their involvement in fatal cases confidential after a child's death.
But the state may issue a fatality report that examines a suspected death from child abuse with an eye toward correcting mistakes by county-run agencies. Such reports detail errors in El Paso ? and other counties ? struggling to cope with growing child abuse case loads.In one fatal case, El Paso human services waited 10 days to check a nurse's report of bruises on a 1-year-old boy.
The 1-year-old boy was Isaiah Oliva.
He drowned in a bathtub, eight days after a hospital sent him home with a fractured skull. That was preceded by a long series of other injuries, some of them reported to the county by a doctor, a therapist and others: His teeth were falling out; he was limping from hip pain; his face, buttocks, ear, arm and thigh were bruised; he had broken blood vessels in his eyes; and he had a broken ankle.
Michelle Moore 9-year-old & Charlie Moore 6-year-old
January 19, 2004 Police detective Victor LaBrecque found 9-year-old Michelle Moore slumped over her clarinet, beside the music she was practicing when she died.
The body of her little brother Charlie, 6, lay nearby in the living room. Their mother was sprawled facedown in a pool of blood on the kitchen floor. All three had been shot twice by the children's stepfather, Christopher Colvin, who then reclined beside Michelle and fired a .45-caliber bullet into his right temple as police arrived.
"You don't forget those faces," said LaBrecque, who led the investigation of the city of Fountain's deadliest shooting. "It's something that's always burned into your brain. The innocents ? they never had a chance."
The official story always has been that the child protection system could not have prevented this tragedy. Five days after the December 1996 killings, El Paso County human services director Barbara Drake was quoted as saying her department had no active file on the Colvin children until it responded to a child abuse complaint one week before they were killed.
A state fatality review quietly delivered to El Paso officials nine months later tells a much different story of the county's involvement.
There had been a series of reports to El Paso human services about Colvin, including one from a therapist saying that Charlie said his stepfather made him lick up his own urine and shoved a dirty diaper in his face. There had been about 16 police visits to the Colvins' mobile home for domestic violence ? and no documented referrals from police to El Paso human services.
Drake declined to discuss the case with The Denver Post but said she never intended to mislead anyone about her department's prior involvement with the Colvins.
"I certainly would have said what I would have believed to be the truth at the time," she said.
Chandler Ashton Grafner 7-year- old
The 7-year-old boy weighed less than 30 pounds
DENVER -- Three felony charges have been filed against the couple allegedly involved in the death of 7-year- old Chandler Grafner.
The Denver District Attorney's Office said 26-year-old Jon Phillips and 21-year-old Sarah Berry intentionally and deliberately malnourished and mistreated the boy, who is not biologically related to them.
The couple are both charged with first-degree murder causing the death of a child under 12, child abuse resulting in death, and first-degree murder after deliberation.
The 7-year-old boy weighed less than 30 pounds and was found by police suffering from cardiac arrest. He was reportedly kept in the couple's closet.
Sources at the boy's former elementary school confirm to 7NEWS that there were concerns about his well-being for some time and that those concerns were well documented. A teacher at Grafner's school repeatedly reported signs of neglect, the Denver Post reported. Investigators visited the couple's apartment but found nothing unusual.
Grafner's maternal grandmother talked exclusively to 7NEWS, saying that Chandler and his half-brother, Dominick Phillips, were taken away from her home.
Both Dominick and Chandler share the same mother but they were removed from her care because of her drug problem, their maternal grandmother, Sandra Younger said.
Younger said that she fought for custody of the boys but lost. Dominick's biological father, Jon Phillips, was given legal custody of both boys.
"I didn't want him (Phillips) to have them. I just didn't have a good feeling about it. And I told the social worker, but she said there's nothing she could do about a 'bad feeling,'" said Younger.
"(Social Services) also said that because the boys were sleeping on a large couch in my living room, and didn't have twin beds in a room of their own, that I was not a good candidate," said Younger.
Younger said the boys were in good hands with her. She is angry and distraught, saying that her beautiful 7-year-old grandson shouldn't have died.
"They were loved, and they were safe. They were well taken care of here. They were well-fed. You can ask any of the neighbors. They were happy with virtually no needs and no wants," said Younger.
Dominick, who is 5, is now in foster care.
Phillips and Berry are being held without bond at the Denver County Jail. They are scheduled to appear in Denver County Court on Monday to be formally advised of the charges. If they are convicted, they face life in prison without the possibility of parole.
They were taken into custody on Sunday, when police were called to the their apartment on South Tamarac Drive and Hampden Avenue.
At least eight times in his young life, people charged with protecting Darian could have taken steps to help him. He was left alone with his killer.
By JENIFER B. McKIM
The Orange County Register
Darian Robinson used to coo and laugh with adults. Then he grew quiet.
The little boy stopped eating and gaining weight. His young mother Sherri Robinson - isolated and recently out of jail - skipped parenting classes and therapy. When Darian crawled to his mother, she pushed him away.
Social worker Colleen Vargas heard these concerns and arrived at the family's Fullerton doorstep to check on the toddler.
Robinson refused her help. "You guys have done enough," the unemployed woman said and shut the door.
Vargas, the eighth social worker to work on the little's boy's case, never met Darian that day. Or ever. She walked away.
A month later, paramedics found Darian beaten to death - covered with more than 100 wounds from his feet to the top of his head. He was 10 months old.
Twenty-three children have died since January 2000 who had been under Juvenile Court protection in Orange County.
Darian's once-confidential file obtained by The Orange County Register shows a court stymied by delays and a string of social workers who ignored warning signs, lost a key document and closed the case after being rebuffed by an uncooperative mother.
Last year, Robinson was sentenced to 25 years to life for his murder.
Nearly five years after the boy's death, a deputy district attorney, a foster father and family members still question why public agencies and employees charged with protecting Darian were not held accountable.
In at least eight points in the boy's life, those charged with protecting Darian could have taken steps to help him and didn't, the Register found.
Yet nobody was disciplined or fired. No government systems overhauled.
"I think too many people dropped the ball, and they are just skating,'' said Sonia E. Balleste, the deputy district attorney who prosecuted Robinson. "What happened to Darian shouldn't have happened. This little boy shouldn't have to die for nothing."
Court and social services officials say they made no mistakes with Darian. He was placed with a foster father when his mother went to jail and returned to her upon her release. Concerns raised about Robinson were not enough to merit more government involvement, they say.
The vast majority of the nearly 4,000 Orange County children under court protection get safe permanent homes, said Presiding Juvenile Court Judge Robert Hutson. Despite best efforts, some children from at-risk families die.
"You can't be there every minute with every person," Hutson said. "I am not seeing fault in the system that is causing deaths in Orange County."
But Darian's story reveals weaknesses in a struggling state bureaucracy that cares for more than 76,000 abused and neglected children.
Most foster care children who die do so with little public notice. The state doesn't accurately count their deaths. Some youth advocates say stories like Darian's must be open to public scrutiny to assure such deaths are avoided in the future.
"Unfortunately we see high case loads, excessive handoffs and kids lost in the shuffling of paper between desks," said Robert Fellmeth, executive director of the San Diego-based Children's Advocacy Institute. "These are our children. We as taxpayers and voters are their parents. If one of them dies, we want to know about it."
The Register litigated in juvenile court for more than a year to get details of the deaths of Orange County children who'd been under protection of the court. The county fought to keep the records sealed.
In many cases, social workers and the court appear to have done what they could for medically fragile youths. Other children didn't have to die.
Miranda Davila, age 2, was returned to her parents and died months later after being found unconscious and bruised in a filthy motel room. Maryah Ponce was removed from a troubled family to die forgotten in her foster mother's overheated SUV. Ana Smallen, age 2, was taken from her parents after they were jailed and social workers found signs of neglect. She was returned two months later and drowned in a family hot tub in July.
Only Darian's file of court and social services records has been released. The Register continues to fight for more files.
This is Darian's story.
DARIAN'S STRUGGLE TO SURVIVE
Sherri Robinson didn't want a baby.
The young woman suffered from her own abandonment and abuse, court documents and interviews show. Her mother left when she was a toddler and her father traveled often for work.
When she was a girl growing up in Huntington Beach, social workers took her stepsister into protective custody, confirming she'd been sexually abused.
When she was a young woman, Robinson's boyfriend slammed her against a wall and cracked her pelvis. She got pregnant in a short-lived affair with another man. She was arrested for stealing a car.
She asked permission for an abortion twice in jail but was denied, she told social workers.
After her release, eight-months pregnant and complaining of back pain, Robinson arrived at the home of her former stepmother Victoria Bias in January 2001. Bias, who hadn't seen her for years, took the young woman in.
Darian was born Feb. 17. Even his first breaths were a struggle.
Robinson fought his arrival by ignoring a doctor's orders to push, said Bias who was present during the birth. When Darian's head appeared, Robinson sat up in such a way that it appeared she was trying to break his neck.
"She was killing him," Bias said. "The nurse was in tears begging her to cooperate.''
Bias visited the hospital to find the new mother in the shower and Darian lying naked and alone at risk of catching cold or falling off the bed. This happened twice.
At the hospital, Bias learned Robinson had a warrant for her arrest for violating probation on an auto theft conviction.
In hopes of protecting Darian, Bias and her adult children turned her in. Robinson was arrested and Darian taken into protective custody.
Bias, now 51, wanted to keep Darian but was told she didn't have standing as a former stepmother.
Months later, she couldn't understand why social workers returned Darian to his mother after she told them about the birth and Robinson's drug use.
An attorney for Darian said Bias' opinions were dismissed because she was estranged from Robinson and the allegations couldn't be proven.
"I said she was going to kill this baby. They shouldn't have given her back the baby," Bias said. "Darian died because of them and they wouldn't listen. ... I think the (senior social worker) should have lost her job.''
THE SYSTEM
After Bias' call to authorities, the juvenile system lurched into action.
The county aims to keep fragile families together while limiting children's risks.
Caseloads are high. Judges and commissioners juggle 1,000 children on their docket. Children's attorneys have 1,000 clients each. Social workers who reunite children with their parents are responsible for as many as 40 children, higher than a statewide standard of 27.
Nobody can say whether a social worker with more time could have saved Darian. Social workers were not permitted to discuss the case. However, Children and Family Services Director Michael Riley is the first to say his overworked staff struggles to do their job.
Still, he defends his staff's handling of Darian. "Nothing was done improperly," he said.
Social workers placed Darian with Michael Jones, a San Diego foster father who hoped to adopt. Jones, a social worker in San Diego County, understood Darian could return to his mother but was told this was unlikely because Robinson was in jail.
Jones fell in love with the good-natured infant with wide eyes and fuzzy hair. He started a nightly routine: bath, book, bottle and bed. Jones read the classic "Good Night Moon" and sang "Itsy Bitsy Spider." They listened to Mozart. Each night Jones prayed over the boy's bed.
The foster father wrote to Robinson and took her calls, telling her Darian slept deeply and liked to be wrapped tightly in a blanket. "He has big beautiful brown-black eyes," he wrote her, "and looks right at you when you talk."
In Orange County, social workers contemplated Darian's fate.
Karen Cabico, the senior social worker in charge of his case, first recommended that the court commissioner make Darian a dependent of the court because his mother was in jail. Robinson's history and isolation also worried Cabico.
Juvenile Court Commissioner Gary Vincent, the final arbiter in Darian's destiny, delayed a decision for nearly six months, a time span considered unusually long but not illegal. He continued or delayed hearings nine times - something the senior social worker later said hurt her ability to protect Darian.
Courts aim to quickly decide a child's future. But Hutson, the presiding judge, said some delays are necessary and requested by attorneys who need more time. In Darian's case, Hutson said the commissioner postponed decisions partly because Robinson was released from jail earlier than expected.
Vincent defended his actions, saying he is cautious before ruling.
"I am in no hurry," he said. "Justice delayed is often justice fully achieved."
Efforts shifted toward reuniting the mother and son.
When Jones heard Robinson was leaving jail, he knew he could lose Darian. He told Cabico about his concerns regarding Robinson's history of substance abuse and lack of family but says he felt she didn't listen.
Two months before Darian was released to his mother, Jones wrote to Cabico's supervisor Linda Galvan complaining the social worker ignored his phone calls, did not visit his home and treated him with disdain because he was unmarried.
"There were red flags all over that this so-called experienced social worker just plain missed,'' Jones said. "She didn't spend a lot of time with any of us. She didn't hear it."
COURT ORDERS REUNIFICATION
Robinson walked out of jail in June 2001 and began supervised visits with her infant son. She was nervous around Darian, especially when he cried. Social workers recommended parenting classes.
In a report to the commissioner a month later, Cabico said Robinson was hard to contact and missed appointments. Darian shouldn't be returned to his mother, she wrote, because "there is a substantial risk that the child will suffer physical harm or illness."
Darian should be made a court dependent and Robinson given drug tests and psychological tests, she said.
Vincent postponed ruling on her requests, instead ordering Robinson to confirm her attendance for supervised visits with Darian.
He told the Register there wasn't enough proof for the state to take jurisdiction despite Cabico's recommendation.
"(Social workers) are very inaccurate in their recommendations and are often ignorant as far as the law goes."
He scheduled a hearing for a month later.
At that point, Cabico changed her mind. She felt more comfortable with Robinson. What she once thought was mental illness or drug use Cabico now believed was the mother's confusion with the system. She recommended returning Darian to his mother in a six-week supervised program.
Vincent agreed. Court documents show he took official jurisdiction of Darian but ordered no tests for Robinson.
A year later, after Darian's death, medical staff at a state hospital diagnosed Robinson as suffering from antisocial personality and cocaine-induced psychotic disorders, according to court records.
Such testing could have prompted the Juvenile Court to keep a closer watch.
"Maybe they would have come to the conclusion he shouldn't be with her,'' Balleste said. "Would it have a made a difference in Darian's life? Who knows, because they never did it."
SIX WEEKS OF SUPERVISION
Jones, numb with sadness, drove up the I-5 in August with 6-month-old Darian in the back seat.
He arrived at Robinson's apartment and tried to give her Darian. She resisted at first but then took him. Jones returned to his car to collect the baby's belongings. He came back to find Darian propped on a couch and Robinson sitting across the room - hardly the reaction he expected from a woman reuniting with the son she'd lost at birth.
"I picked him up and gave him back to her," Jones said. "I stayed for about an hour. I showed her how to mix the formula. I gave him a hug and left. I was numb. I said, 'You call me any time. I will baby sit. Whatever you need.' "
In the six weeks that the court supervised Darian and his mother, a public health nurse visited once and a community aide visited about once a week.
Karen Hager, a veteran social worker who works with children needing intensive supervision, testified she visited 14 times in six weeks. She told Cabico that Robinson was cooperating and "settling down." Darian was happy and cuddly, she said.
She also testified later that she worried Robinson was slow to understand things and resisted court orders. The plan to get back her son required her to complete parenting classes, but she hadn't done so.
Yet with her support, Cabico recommended Robinson be freed from court-ordered services after six weeks. She told the commissioner Darian was "thriving" in his mother's care. Although she believed Robinson would benefit from more services, Cabico didn't think the court should stay involved.
Aileen Ramirez, part of the county team helping Robinson adjust to motherhood, was surprised Darian's court case had been dismissed.
The once playful boy was quiet. Ramirez and a public health nurse repeatedly discussed their concerns with a social worker at the family resource center where they worked.
Cabico later testified she didn't hear any of that.
"I thought she needed more intervention," said Ramirez, still haunted by Darian's death. "I would let them know he was declining, he was not as active as before. .It is sad. It could have been prevented."
THE DOOR CLOSES
Freed from court supervision, Robinson became hard to find.
Three times, Cabico tried and failed to visit with the family. Once, Robinson told her she wasn't available. The second time the mother skipped a scheduled office visit, and a third time the family was out when Cabico dropped by.
Those who got a glimpse inside the apartment noted problems.
Ramirez saw a bruise on Darian's face during a visit in October. It looked like a pinch. When she asked Robinson about it, the mother said, "Babies get bruised."
Ramirez contacted public health nurse Kathy Brown, who visited to find Darian wasn't the cheerful boy she once knew. Robinson told her Darian was refusing to eat. The nurse offered a jar of food, which he ate eagerly.
Brown tried to visit Robinson again but had no luck. She called social services. After several attempts, she was referred to Vargas, the eighth social worker involved in Darian's case.
Vargas picked up Darian's file in mid-November, almost two months after the case was dismissed from court.
Vargas saw in the paperwork that Robinson agreed to voluntary services but noted a key document was missing - a signed paper proving the mother accepted government involvement in her life.
The social worker arrived at the apartment the next day. Robinson greeted her and stepped outside, pulling the door partially closed. Vargas talked about services, referring to the agreement Robinson had signed. Robinson demanded to see the missing paperwork. When none was produced, she sent Vargas away.
Vargas felt she didn't have enough evidence to persist. She never called police or asked the commissioner to reauthorize court supervision, options Cabico later said she would have taken.
Instead, Vargas left a message with the nurse to report any new concerns of abuse or neglect to the county's hotline. She closed Darian's case without seeing him. She'd had his file for two days.
CRIES FOR HELP
As fall turned to winter, neighbors heard a baby wailing from the apartment.
"A lot of us heard the crying,'' neighbor Melida Wadwa told a jury, admitting she never contacted authorities about her concerns. "It was loud, constant.''
Neighbor Robert Rice heard a child being slapped some 25 times in late November and again in December. The second time he screamed at Robinson to knock it off, he testified in court. She came to the window.
"She said it's none of my business, and I told her I'd call social services on her,'' he told a jury. "She said she doesn't care. They won't do anything."
A few days later Rice stopped a district attorney's investigator who was visiting Robinson to check on welfare fraud to tell him his concerns
The investigator, required by law to report allegations of abuse, listened but did not follow up.
The state attorney general investigated this lack of action and found no criminal wrongdoing. The state urged the District Attorney's Office to improve training on child-abuse reporting.
On the morning of Dec. 15, 2001, Robinson dialed 911.
Paramedic Burt Allen responded and found Darian lying at his mother's feet.
The veteran firefighter peeled off the toddler's clothes and thought he was looking at a skin disease. Then he gasped.
Darian was covered with scars. The baby had 13 rib fractures and his legs appeared to have been pulled apart. Something had been stuck in his rectum. His body was cool.
Police arrived and found a handmade whip in a Disney-print diaper bag.
Allen and his crew, with no child to save, packed their equipment and walked silently to their truck. Then they did something they'd never done after a call.
They cried.
"I was angry at everybody,'' said Allen, unable to forget the scars that crisscrossed the boy's body. "I've never ever before or since seen such brutality."
THE TRIAL
Robinson's criminal trial was delayed for three years while attorneys debated her mental competence to stand trial.
In fall 2004, Balleste was handed the case.
The deputy district attorney charged Robinson with torturing and killing Darian. During the trial, she also took the juvenile court and social workers to task. She still keeps a photo of Darian in her office.
"There's too much documentation ... to show this little boy should never have gone back to her, and once he went back to her that they should have been concerned,'' Balleste said. "I think this is one of the biggest injustices I've seen in my career. Nobody speaks for babies that cannot speak."
The murder trial provided a glimpse into the secretive world, where state law forbids social workers and foster parents to talk about their wards.
Cabico, in tears on the stand, said Commissioner Vincent mishandled the case by waiting so long to take jurisdiction of Darian. She was so confused by court delays, she said, that she didn't realize Darian had been officially put under court protection before he was sent to his mother.
She told the criminal court that every time she told the commissioner her concerns, like the fact Robinson had nowhere to live when she left jail, Vincent pushed her to resolve the issues.
Cabico did not blame herself although she was in charge of his case for the longest period of time. She believed Robinson would be cooperative despite signs to the contrary. She said her colleague Vargas erred by walking away.
"I feel like we as an agency failed because the social worker could have called the police or done something when she no longer was letting anyone in the door or being cooperative,'' Cabico told the judge. "He was like a train on a track just going from day one and just kept going with things occurring, at different points could have changed the outcome.''
Cathy Sarinana assured family members that she and her husband were frantically looking for their runaway nephew in the rural Washington area where they lived.
She told the boy's family on Christmas Day that he would be home to open his presents.
But 13-year-old Conrad Morales never came home, and police and family members say Sarinana and her husband, Raul, knew he wouldn't.
Rather than searching for the runaway, police allege Sarinana and her husband had fled the state months earlier after the death of Conrad and brought the boy's remains to Corona.
On Monday, investigators discovered a grisly new twist.
Raul Sarinana called police to the quiet Corona Belle Avenue neighborhood Monday after saying he had hurt and possibly killed his 11-year-old nephew, Conrad's little brother Ricky. The couple had taken custody of both boys over the last two years. When police arrived, they found Ricky's body, and several hours later discovered Conrad's body encased in concrete in the carport of the Corona home.
The crime scene left the family to grapple with the deaths of two boys and the subsequent arrest of their aunt and uncle, a man known to the kids in the family as the easy-going, "fun" uncle.
"This just isn't happening," sobbed Martin Cevallos, the boy's 22-year-old cousin from Downey. "We sent them to my uncle because we thought they'd be better off. He was always the uncle that would joke around with us kids. If he couldn't handle them, he could have just sent them home.
"They said Conrad's presents were under the tree when all along they knew he was dead," Cevallos said. "Everything has been one big lie."
This week, the district attorney's office filed charges against the Sarinanas in the killing of Ricky. Raul Sarinana is charged with murder and torture, while his wife, Cathy, is charged with murder and child endangerment. Their arraignment is scheduled for Jan. 5.
Corona detectives are investigating the death of Conrad in and around Randle, Wash., where the Sarinanas lived and reported Conrad missing days before moving to Corona in October. According to police and family, the case involves an elaborate cover-up spanning three cities and two states and covered more than 1,000 miles.
Coroner's officials conducted one autopsy Thursday but did not release results. Corona investigators returned to the home Thursday night and the Sarinanas' former Washington home, where police believe the first killing took place.
Police officials released few details about either death Thursday. However, they did confirm that Cathy Sarinana was in the Big Bear area when her husband reported Ricky's death on Monday.
Before living with the Sarinanas, Ricky and Conrad lived with an aunt, Berta Cevallos, 43, in Los Angeles County.
Their mother, Rosa Morales, 42, had been incarcerated on drug-related charges, Berta Cevallos said.
Living in Washington
Their mother, and the rest of the family, decided the boys would be better off living in the rural Washington home of the Sarinanas, said Berta's son, Martin Cevallos. Conrad moved in with the family about a year and a half ago while Ricky moved in about six months ago.
"Everything was going good at first," Martin Cevallos said. "They would call us and tell us that the boys got perfect attendance awards at school and that Conrad was playing track and basketball."
Rosa Morales, who asked the Cevalloses to speak on the family's behalf, was ready to bring the boys home for several months but her brother kept saying he had no money to fly them home. Then Raul Sarinana called to say that Conrad had run away. He said the teenager had been misbehaving, Berta Cevallos said. Raul Sarinana told the family he would remain in Washington looking for Conrad while Cathy Sarinana moved to her aunt's home in Sacramento with Ricky and her two small children, Martin Cevallos said.
But on Christmas Eve, Cevallos discovered Sarinana had given a fake address when he tried to check on the boys Christmas Eve while on a business trip to Sacramento.
On Christmas Day, a somber Ricky called Berta Cevallos' home and told his sister Vanessa, 22, that he wanted to come back. That same day, Rosa Morales began making plans to find a home for her and the boys. "All this time, we thought they were in Sacramento, but they were really just the next county over in Corona," Martin Cevallos said.
Family and friends gathered throughout the day Thursday outside the modest La Puente home of Berta Cevallos.
Investigators have located four residences for the family so far in Lewis County in southwest Washington. Neighbor Mark Mowery remembers seeing one boy get off a school bus on occasion but rarely saw anyone outside on the 6-acre lot. Bags of garbage piled up around the gray manufactured home with white trim. He was one of the neighbors interviewed when the aunt reported the boy missing.
After the family moved down the road to Winlock, the bags remained. In a help to detectives, no one moved into the home after the Sarinanas left, Chief Criminal Deputy Joe Doench of Lewis County said.
Family Remembers
Through tears, family members recalled memories of the brothers while trying to grasp how their deaths could have happened.
The family, including the boys' mother, learned of their death through a television news report.
They remembered Conrad as a caring and charming young man who loved to spend time with friends. Ricky was obsessed with television, especially cartoons and his video games. The boys were good friends, family members said.
Photos of the boys smiling at Christmas time and other family gatherings were bathed in the soft glow of candlelight on the driveway. Balloons soared above that read, "We love you," and "Miss you."
"One minute you're numb and in shock," Berta Cevallos said, crying while gazing at the boys' photo. "The next minute, you can't stop crying."
Staff writer Linda Lou and researcher Flint Johnston contributed to this article.
Reach Jessica Zisko at (951) 375-3721 or jzisko@pe.com
Melissa Watkins 9-years-old
Durham Woman Charged With Murder Of Adopted Daughter
Authorities Believe Melissa Watkins Was Abused
DURHAM, N.C. -- A Durham woman has been charged with murdering her adopted daughter, who died last year of injuries suffered in 1995.
Melinda Ann Wilkins, 40, was arrested Tuesday in Durham and charged with the death of Melissa Wilkins. Melissa Wilkins, 9, died from complications of injuries she suffered on Aug. 16, 1995, when she was 19 months old, according to investigators.
Melinda Wilkins was originally arrested and charged with felony child abuse after Melissa Wilkins was admitted to Duke University Hospital. She served 2-1/2 years in prison.
At that time, investigators said the child, who was unconscious when she was taken to the hospital, suffered a blood clot on the brain, retinal hemorrhaging, a fractured back and a fractured skull. Investigators also said that doctors found evidence of old scars and rib fractures.
"This child never stood a chance," said Detective Art Holland of the Durham Police Department. "It was pitiful for an 18-month-old. The injuries on her body -- they were non-accidential."
Wilkins told police her adopted daughter fell off a couch. Later, she told detectives she had dropped Melissa.
Melissa Wilkins never recovered from the injuries and lived in residential treatment centers until she died in June 2003.
The Durham Police Department was not notified that Melissa Wilkins had died until July 29, 2004, when they were contacted by the State Medical Examiner's Office in Chapel Hill.
Wilkins is in the Durham County Jail without bond. She will have a bond hearing on Wednesday.
Reporter: Julia Lewis Photographer: Chad Flowers OnLine Producer: Kamal Wallace
Corey Greer 12-year-old
Corey Greer might have survived the overcrowding, if only he had been white.
Somebody "erred on the side of the child" and placed Corey Greer of Treasure Island, Florida, in a foster home that would later be described by police as "filthy and overcrowded." The home was licensed for four children. By the time Corey Greer died in his crib of dehydration, 12 were living there. The foster mother was convicted of manslaughter and third degree murder.
Corey Greer might have survived the overcrowding, if only he had been white. According to a witness at the foster mother's trial, the foster mother said that touching black children "just gives me the willies." According to the witness, the foster mother referred to Corey Greer as "a big black blob."
Michelle Walton 7-year-old
Michelle was chronically sexually abused during her time in "care."
Authorities in Massachusetts decided to "put the child first" and take seven-year-old Michelle Walton away from her parents. They made a "child focused" decision. They "erred on the side of the child."
Three years later, the body of Michelle Walton was found in the dirty hallway of her foster home, under 380 pounds of Sheetrock. Her foster mother says it was an accident. But a judge found that it was murder. And he found that Michelle was chronically sexually abused during her time in "care."
No one has been charged. According to the Boston Globe, Michelle's mother "heads to work every day with a worn Peanuts knapsack on her back crammed with her daughter's autopsy report and assorted other documents that chronicle her death and proffers them to most anyone interested. Not many are.
"'I carry 'em because it makes it easier for my sanity ... It helps me from going insane. Or maybe it just keeps her alive a little bit longer.
Jimmy Allan Wood 13-year-old
November 13 2002, drug overdose & Physical abuse,Adams County Colorado.
Shyanna Durst 11-months-old
Galesburg. Died Feb. 9, 2003
A neighbor who was the subject of a child abuse investigation agreed to baby-sit Shyanna. A DCFS caseworker allowed this arrangement. An inspector general's report stated the baby sitter, who had a sleep disorder, was lethargic because she was overweight. The report also stated she spent her family's benefits check on calls to psychic hot lines. When a DCFS supervisor learned the baby sitter's live-in boyfriend had a felony record for selling crack cocaine, the supervisor implemented a "safety plan" that required another adult -- a relative or friend -- to be with her children at all times. However, the baby sitter refused to allow a caseworker into her home to make sure another adult was there. Shyanna accidentally choked to death on loose binding from a mattress while the baby sitter slept.
DCFS DISCIPLINE: None
Cree Lynn Scott 10 -months-old
Died Aug. 24, 2000,Olney,MD
A DCFS child abuse investigation began when Cree Lynn came to a hospital with bruising. Caseworkers sent her to live with a relative, and her mother agreed to counseling. But despite a supervisor's concerns, the DCFS assigned the mother's former private therapist to be her new caseworker. Because of the prior relationship, "The caseworker accepted all of the mother's self-reports about substance abuse, employment and the baby's health care, and neglected to verify information when obvious discrepancies arose," the inspector general reported. This optimistic but false picture resulted in Cree Lynn being returned home. A few weeks later, her mother's boyfriend shoved a wad of tissue paper down the infant's throat to make her stop crying. The baby choked to death. The boyfriend, Chad Jones, pleaded guilty to involuntary manslaughter.
DCFS DISCIPLINE: Faced with discipline, the caseworker resigned. The supervisor received counseling.
Haley Gray 4-year-old
CPS decision angers father of dead child
SCOTTSDALE - State records show that Arizona Child Protective Service workers recommended that a judge return three Scottsdale children to their mother three months early, even though they had been concerned about her alcoholic relapses.
The mother, Celene Gray, 35, has since been charged with child abuse after 4-year-old Haley was found by police on Sept. 10 in Celene's van, unconscious and gasping for breath. She died four days later of heat exhaustion.
Gray is awaiting trial on the charge, and is expected to be in Maricopa County Superior Court on Tuesday for a hearing.
John Gray, 44, the children's father, said he had repeatedly warned CPS that his ex-wife's drinking was endangering the children. Gray was angered that a judge returned the children to his ex-wife in February.
"They gave the children to her early," he said, "because they didn't want to give them to me because of discrimination to fathers."
CPS removed the children from Celene Gray on Sept. 23, 2004, after she was arrested on a drunken-driving charge. A case-management report said the children were not to be returned to her until May 2005.
Liz Barker, a CPS spokeswoman, said she could not comment because John Gray has filed a $6.5 million notice of claim against the agency, a precursor to a lawsuit.
Celene Gray could not be reached for comment, but she admitted to police that she had been drinking until 3 a.m. the night Haley was found in the van. She said she put all of the children in one room for a nap, and lay down to rest. Celene called police about 5 p.m. when she discovered Haley missing.
Police found Haley in the unlocked van about 6 p.m.
According to a CPS summary, Haley may have been gone about 90 minutes.
Haley was found in her mother's van struggling to breathe. She had slipped into the unlocked van while her mother slept but couldn't get out. She was removed from life support four days later.
Police reports show that Celene still had alcohol in her system three hours after her daughter was found.
John Gray was not sure what he wanted for Haley last September as she lay in a coma.
"I didn't know whether I wanted her to live or to die," he said, "because I didn't know how much her brain had been damaged."
John says he grieves every day over the loss of his daughter, but says "she's in a better place."
In the last few months of her life, she and her two brothers had been in and out of shelters as their mother struggled to stay sober.
After she completed a rehab program in late October 2004, she was to be reunited with her children on Nov. 1. But according to a state document, Celene, now 35, was found drunk by caseworkers who wrote that the children were "once again at risk" as result of their mother's drinking. A case-management report said the children were not to be returned to the mother until May.
Still, a judge returned the children to their mother in February 2005 based in part on CPS workers' reports that the children were doing well in her custody, and that her random drug tests were negative. The court continued to have oversight and the children were still in CPS custody.
John, who says he hasn't had a drink in 15 years, finds it ironic that while he was allowed only visitations with his children, CPS turned them over to him immediately after Haley's death and their mother's arrest.
"The boys are doing great," he said, showing pictures of them in sports uniforms.
CPS, he said, ignored the fact that the children had been removed from their mother twice in Florida, and refused to credit him with parenting and anger-management classes he had taken in that state.
"I was perplexed by that because I was clearly the better parent," he said.
Now he is pushing for "Haley's Law" requiring Arizona to check other states for records of child abuse or neglect. And he has a Web site, azcpsabuse.com dedicated to Haley and what he considers CPS' mishandling of the case.
"When you are caring for children," he said, "one mistake is too many."
HALEY'S LAW
After John Gray's 4-year-old daughter, Haley, died after being left in her mother's hot car, he wanted someone to blame.
He blamed the girl's mother for neglecting Haley while she slept off a night of drinking.
He blamed Child Protective Services for overlooking the woman's repeated history of abuse and neglect and still awarding her custody of their three children.
He even blamed himself for not doing enough to save Haley.
"Initially I was angry and I wanted to be vindicated, personally," says the Scottsdale man. "And what I realized was that this was bigger than Haley. It was bigger than just one child losing her life."
To prevent any other child from suffering in an abusive home, Gray began working to find a way to reform CPS.
Haley's mother had a history of neglecting Haley and her two brothers when they lived in Florida, but that record wasn't taken into account when they moved to Arizona.
So Gray created a bill known as Haley's Law, which would require CPS to consider substantiated allegations of abuse or neglect committed in other jurisdictions when deciding which parent to place children with in custody disputes.
"We are not the only family who has gone through this situation," Gray says. "Instead of hate, I wanted to turn it into something out of love and compassion and helping people."
In January the legislation was unanimously approved in committee, and it is expected to be heard next session in the state Senate.
"I believe God has his hand in all this," he says. "My daughter lives on, not only in our hearts, but she's involved in some change."
Carol Sowers The Arizona Republic May. 27, 2006 12:00 AM
Kerianne Bradley 16-month-old
CPS failed Kerianne
Family feels failed by officials
DEAD CHILD: A previous custody decision was affected by one doctor's view of an injury's cause.
Though several doctors suspected child abuse, Riverside County accepted a lead doctor's opinion that a 16-month-old's broken arm was accidental and closed its investigation in late December, officials said.
Kerianne Bradley was then released from Loma Linda University Medical Center. Six weeks later, she died of head wounds that police and prosecutors allege her mother's live-in boyfriend had inflicted the previous day.
The boyfriend, Ryan Christopher Mickey, 26, was charged this week in connection with the death of the toddler as well as a child-abuse allegation.
In building its case, the Riverside County district attorney's office relied on the doctors who were overruled by the county's Child Protective Services unit on the cause of the broken arm.
"CPS failed Kerianne," said Denise Pou, the girl's maternal grandmother. "We put our trust in their expertise."
Pou said the unit put Kerianne in her custody after the Dec. 30 arm injury, but the girl was returned to her mother, Jennifer Corrine Bradley, two days after being released from the hospital. Officials told Pou that its doctors accepted Mickey's report that the girl had fallen while running, Pou said.
Child Protective Services told Pou that its team of forensic doctors agreed that the injury had not been the result of abuse.
"I asked CPS to do a follow-up, if they could check in on her," Pou said. "They said no."
When Child Protective Services hears of a child's injury, it asks a forensic doctor to conduct an examination, said Jennie Pettet, Riverside County's deputy director of children's services. The unit falls under the county's Department of Public Social Services.
In situations where there might be conflicting views from doctors, the department puts more weight on the forensic doctor's opinion, she said. But the department considers all information from other doctors, parents, law enforcement, teachers and others.
Pettet and Sylvia Deporto, also a deputy director of the same unit, said they could not comment on the case.
Grier Weeks, executive director of the National Association to Protect Children, said doctors should be trained to spot child abuse and immediately report it. Child-abuse deaths usually are preceded by obvious signs, he said.
"It's almost always known to the system first. It's almost never a surprise," said Weeks, whose organization pushes for child-abuse prevention in a variety of ways, including legislation. "Essentially, children are dying, and we're not listening."
In the case of Kerianne Bradley, a 911 call on Feb. 4 brought officers to the home on Murrieta's Broken Arrow Way that Mickey was sharing with the girl and her mother. Mickey had called for h