Abuse Within America's Foster Care System - Children at Risk (Part 2)

In Part 1 of my personal expose` of the Foster Care System, I wrote about the stigmas and labels that the American society willingly burdens a child with and how this is something that, unfortunately, follows them throughout their childhood, most of the time following them well into adulthood. The statistics are staggering if you actually take time to notice how many people within our prison systems have spent time in this "system" that was initiated in the first place to help children in trouble. Realistically, many children who go into the system as good kids are corrupted by the system to the point that they have little to no chance of a decent life. This is fact, not fiction, and easily proven for the fact that almost 50 years later, I see the same stigmas being put on unfortunate children and other children being taught at a young age to attack those that have suffered enough already.

In 1982 my oldest daughter was born and I found out six (6) months later how simple it was for someone to use my past as an abused child in the foster care system against me. The first time did work itself out but caused a great deal of upset and stress before it came to a conclusion. Events such as this would cause any parent to be protective and on guard, which it did in my case and that normal reaction would also be held against me at a later time.

There was a five (5) year period between the false accusation and when everything literally went to hell to the point that I voluntarily placed my oldest daughter within California's foster care system. I can not accurately tell the whole story without mentioning events that led up to it so I will attempt to give the leading events as accurately as possible. Please know that it is not easy to recall these things. I stated before that I am a well adjusted, warm and giving person, but even I know that if America keeps trying to hide what really does happen instead of facing the truth and dealing with it, nothing will ever change. If it stays hidden, it continues.

I moved to Virginia in 1983 and married a sailor stationed in Norfolk, Virginia. In 1984 we were getting ready to transfer to Texas when I became pregnant with my second daughter. I thought life would be more calm than it had been after getting married but within six months of moving in with my betrothed, my oldest daughter started misbehaving on a grand scale...anything from excessive temper tantrums, tearing up anything she could get her hands on, eating candles and more. I was very concerned but had no idea that it was anything more than the "terrible twos" that I had always heard about. The only time she was not with me was either when I hit the complex laundry-mat across the parking lot or grocery shopping that would take over an hour. It never dawned on me that someone could be doing anything to her, after all, the only other person she was ever alone with now, other than myself, was my husband.

We moved to Kingsville, TX., in the Fall of 1984. I tried to include my oldest daughter in my pregnancy, letting her help me wherever I could to get ready for the baby. She went shopping with me to pick out clothes, she rubbed my tummy and asked questions, etc., and I tried to let her know that she would not be left out. She was very proud of the title of "Big Sister" and I bought her the "Big Sister" tee shirt that she never wanted to take off. My daughter constantly informed me, in no uncertain terms, that the baby was hers, too. Her tantrums had mellowed to a large degree and I thought things would work out alright since she was excited about a little sister. I did not have a clue how wrong I could be.

In January 1985, just before my oldest daughter turned three (3) years old, I gave birth to another beautiful little girl. My husband started a fight in the delivery room, while I was being stitched up, with the comment "It's a girl...so when are you going to give me a boy?" My reply was "when you can get pregnant, you can have a boy!" My anger and outrage was noticed by the doctor who tried his best to hurry up and send me back to my room. The next day I chalked it up to a bad joke with bad timing. It turned out not to be.

The baby and I spent three (3) days in the hospital and my husband kept the oldest daughter at home. I was more than ready to go home with the baby and my oldest daughter, although acting a little strange, seemed to be happy that we were home. My oldest seemed to be hesitant to be around her sister at first but helped me feed her and wanted to help do everything else. I let her help in every instance I could and she learned quite a bit, seemingly thrilled about it all. A week after coming home from the hospital everything seemed to change. I had been trying to keep up with everything the best I could but that was not good enough for my husband. In a heated argument that started over him not helping with the kids or the house, he told me that I would "just have to make it all work". I had a few choice words and tried to walk away when he told me that I was fat and I would have to lose the weight. I tried to avoid the hurt feelings and anger but the insensitivity was making it hard to live with. It never dawned on me that he was using my childhood as a weapon to make me feel guilty or worthless but eventually it came out that he was. He knew that if he pushed the right buttons he could blame anything and everything on me and that I would accept that because that is what the foster care system trains a kid to do.

My oldest began to act in a way that concerned me greatly. She would lie about everything, she started pulling out her eyelashes, the tantrums returned and she began shoving things up her nose to hurt herself. When she would make her nose bleed she seemed to enjoy the attention she would generate and it became an all to common occurrence. I tried to talk to counselors connected with the Navy to find out what might be happening to her but found no help at all. In the mid 80s the wife of an active duty service member still had no significance as far as the military was concerned.

We began planning a transfer to California in early 1986 and moved into temporary base housing. My oldest had begun to behave in such a way that she was putting the baby's safety at risk. It was a 24 hour job to keep the two kids separated and try to teach them to get along at the same time. While in temporary housing (approximately one month), my oldest daughter not only attempted to drown the baby by holding her head down in the toilet bowl but she also intentionally pulled a 24 inch television off a table onto the baby's chest. It was more than obvious that the youngest was in danger of serious physical injury and the oldest was in crisis but I had no extended family to ask for help and all I could do is try to keep a vigilant watch on both of them.

I did not know why my husband had wanted to move right before we moved to California but I knew that for the oldest daughter to intentionally want to hurt her sister, there was an enormous problem. In 2006 I was told by my ex husband's sister in law (who lived in the same town at the time) that there had been an investigation started because child molestation had been reported. Someone had suspected my husband of molesting my oldest daughter when I was in the hospital but I was never told about it. We moved into Temporary Base Housing just to obscure his whereabouts from local Child Welfare officers.

I had been a "stay at home Mom" until our move to California in August of 86. Shortly after arriving in California, my husband became insistent that I go to trade school and go back to work. The idea came out of the blue but I went along with it in an attempt to increase the family income. I took an advanced course in Security/Law Enforcement that had curriculum in everything from Juvenile Delinquency to Crisis Intervention and went to work after graduation. The husband insisted that we should work opposite shifts to save on childcare costs for two kids and, although it would be more difficult to spend time with the kids, I agreed.

A friend from Texas came to San Diego and rented a room from us, carpooling with my husband. All seemed to be going fairly well until a woman from Texas showed up to visit our tenant. They had dated before and when she transferred she ended up at my door. I was told that she was moving in and that she expected certain privileges in my home, to which I refused. I had no intention of allowing her to move in or dictate the rules in my home. I made an enemy that day and she exacted her revenge by making an "anonymous" phone call to report child abuse.

A Social Worker called me to make an appointment for a home visit within a few days. Upon arriving at my home, the worker had me wake my kids up, strip them down and show her that they had no bruising. I was then told to show her the kitchen, specifically how much food I had in the pantry. I showed the woman stocks of food that were impressive for any family but she was not happy with the stores of food on hand. She then asked to see the garbage can. I drug it out, took off the lid, showed her half a can of empty baby food jars and told her that this was the recycling bin. I started to pull out the trash can when she stopped me.. I had been accused of beating my four year old and starving my one year old. I ended up feeding the baby again before she left and she was amazed at how much the baby ate.. My children were small kids with voracious appetites and the worker soon realized there was no merit for the report. That instance was the first and only time anyone ever apologized for having to do a home visit.

There were several more disagreements with out tenant's girlfriend and at least two more "anonymous" complaints came about before she finally left the area.. Home visits were made with the same results but the workers that came out had decided for themselves that I was hurting my children...even though there was not a shred of evidence to substantiate them.

Things became more strained with the passing of time no matter how much I brought home in my paycheck. We talked about buying a house and although my husband made a good salary as a First Class Petty Officer in the Navy the bank still would not allow him to finance a home without my income and joint application. We shopped around for a few months until I found a house with major potential. The house was ready to be foreclosed on and the price was lowered for quick sale. It needed paint and various remodeling inside but for the price it was a steal. The payments were lower than average so we had a good chunk extra every month to fix it up and that's exactly what I started doing. Unbeknown to me, while I was juggling work, two kids and remodeling, my husband was cheating on me...with his best friend's wife, of all people.

My husband's best friend and his wife became great friends of mine and one day while visiting them, my oldest daughter was caught trying to molest the baby, according to my husband and his best friend's wife. I had very little in the way of options and I struggled with what needed to be done. No parent can watch their children 24 hours a day and I was deathly afraid that my youngest daughter would end up hurt, or worse...dead. I called the Social Services in San Diego, CA. and told them what had happened with the attempted molest. I then explained what had been happening over the past two years and that I needed help because I did not know what to do. I was told that the Child Protection Services could help me. They would come and get my oldest daughter, put her in a safe environment where she would be watched carefully and she would receive counseling. I was also reassured that I could call her every day if I wanted and that I could visit several times a week. I was told that she would be safe and that I would be doing the right thing if I allowed them to take custody of her so I agreed. The San Diego County Children's Services came to my home and picked my daughter up within three (3) hours after I hung up the phone.

My daughter was temporarily placed in a receiving home for two days before being placed in a group home with other kids ranging from five (5) years old like my daughter to 13 years old. I may have been told that I would be allowed to call my child on the phone but I was not allowed to talk to her. I may have been told that I would be allowed to visit with my daughter but I was not allowed to see her. I was not allowed any contact at all with my daughter for five (5) full weeks. The problems my child had before going into the custody of San Diego County were now exacerbated by an "abandonment" issue that was caused from having absolutely no contact with her family at all for more than a month. It was incredibly difficult for her and her sister. I was devastated and more stressed than I have ever been before because I would not have volunteered my child if I would have had even a clue that our family would be completely severed like that.

The first court hearing I had to attend (approx. 2 weeks later) found accusations from the social worker that she pulled out of thin air. She claimed (before a judge) that I had threatened to kill my daughter in front of a police officer. "If you don't take her, I'll kill her" is what Fran told a judge. I was upset from not being allowed to see or talk to my daughter and this unfounded accusation only made my upset worse. I was determined to find the officer who supposedly made this claim. When I found him, he denied ever speaking to the social workeer personally and denied making the statement. The next month saw another court appearnce in which I brought up the fabrication. The statement was stricken from the court record yet the damage was already done. The label of "emotionally unstable" was given to me and I was ordered to go into psychiatric/psychological treatment which I had to stay in for more than 7 years. I was kept in treatment just so more money could be squeezed out of the state.

A totally fabricated accusation was allowed to linger and the person who made the accusation did not even get a reprimand. I tried to hire an attorney to sue the county but could not find a lawyer in California who would touch the case.

I was allowed to schedule a visit for week six (6) and took my youngest for a visit. We were only allowed one hour of supervised visitation on the first visit, 2^nd and 3^rd visits were one hour, supervised and eventually allowed two hours (unsupervised) per visit each week. My oldest would act out whenever we would leave and that was attributed to me as if I caused the problem. Credit for the behavioral displays after visitation was never taken as a child's reaction to abandonment fears or the fact that very little visitation was allowed. It was always my fault as far as the San Diego CPS was concerned.

Roughly six (6) weeks after I was finally allowed visitation, my oldest daughter was moved to a regular foster home and the more strict visitation was applied once more. I was not allowed any contact for three (3) weeks and was not given a reason why. The social worker for our case, Francis, came over to drop off some paperwork but she dropped a bomb on me on her way out the door, "Oh...by the way, your daughter was moved to a foster home two weeks ago because she was molested by a thirteen (13) year old mentally handicapped girl in the group home". I hit the floor, literally. This is not the kind of information that you just blurt out with "OH...BY THE WAY..." Francis was so blasé about it, like it was yesterdays old news from a newspaper that she had thrown out. How was I supposed to take that? Pour salt in wounds for fun, maybe? Francis had little respect for anyone she worked around and none at all for me but this was obscene to act like this news would be taken well or that there would be no upset.

I tried as hard as I could not to let the devastation show when finally allowed to visit my daughter again. I would take my youngest once a week to visit with the foster mother watching everything we did and said. Unsupervised visits were once again granted after a few weeks and the foster mother and I got along well. She saw no reason why we could not go out on our visits and allowed me to take my daughter shopping and out to eat, etc. After a while, things seemed to calm down into a regular routine and I was jumping through hoops for the county so I could bring my daughter home. It was beginning to look as if I was making progress for my daughter.

Eleven months after being moved into the foster home found everything falling apart again. The foster mother woke up early on morning and went to the bathroom. She walked by the bedroom door of a boy that she was fostering and heard noise from inside the room. She opened the door to discover that nine (9) year old boy having oral sex with my five year old daughter. It turned out that my daughter was the sixth little girl that this boy had coerced into sexual relations since he came into the home...my daughter was just his youngest victim.

The sexual activity that my daughter was induced into lasted nine (9) months and the boy had convinced her that she no longer had to do what anyone told her. She was no longer required to do anything that she was told because having sex gave her the liberty to do whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted. She took that lesson to heart and she has pretty much lived by that concept for the past 23 years.

I hope that anyone reading this will understand something very important. This little boy was in a foster home because his father had severely abused him. He was, himself, a victim. He needed to be placed somewhere that had the capability to watch him constantly and he NEVER should have been in a normal home setting with children smaller or younger than himself. He victimized my daughter and five more little girls but he is not responsible for that. San Diego County authorities were, and probably still are, more interested in warehousing kids than they are in actually protecting and helping kids. The more kids they have in custody, the more money they receive from the state and it does not seem to matter much that they are stretched beyond capacity with too few workers and workers that do more harm than good.

I have no idea how or why I was expected not to be upset by any of this. I was labeled as "emotionally unstable" after all this had occurred and that would turn out to be the excuse everyone would throw at me when pondering whether or not I should be allowed to talk to or visit my own children after that. There was never a shred of evidence that I had done any harm , whatsoever, to my children but the "emotionally unstable" label was something that they did not have to have any proof of. Every normal parent I have ever known would get a bit emotional if they found out their child had been molested and then repeatedly raped like that. I was not allowed the convenience of being "just a caring parent" I had to be the person at fault because I had been abused as a child and been part of the system. A foster child is not at liberty to grow up and be a good person because this society will not allow it..

To be continued...