Wishing Others Would Keep Their Mouths Shut!

Within a week or two, I had been assigned to work with another Child Protection Team (CPS) who specialized, not in sex abuse, but everything else. It had been determined that I should have well-rounded training. They handled physical abuse, neglect, emotional maltreatment, and domestic violence. The sex abuse team handled anything that had any indication of lewdness, pornography (Harmful Materials) or was blatantly sexual. We even took cases where young children were involved in possibly normal childhood sexual exploration, just so we could educate families if needed.

I went out with numerous workers to learn their method and watch how they interacted with clients. One particular caseworker (CW) was a divorced mother of four. She lived at the poverty level, couldn’t afford daycare, actually received food stamps even though she was fully employed. CW’s did not earn a great income after all. Sometimes it was difficult to distinguish the difference between a client and CW. This particular CW wore grubby jeans, t-shirts, and tennis shoes. She had a get-it-done quick attitude. She didn’t discuss much with clients, just wanted to determine; did abuse happen, who did it, and what finding should be determined; in and out in a few hours, hopefully. She seemed to care little for actual social work.

We went out to investigate a case of emotional maltreatment and physical abuse. A 10 year old wasn’t attending school regularly and sometimes she told her teachers that stepfather was mean to her, yelled at her using profanity; calling her stupid. They were also worried about physical abuse because she had frequent bruises. The girl was not at school when we arrived. Her teacher said she hadn’t been there for several days but the mother had not called to excuse her daughter.
We went to the home. There were 3 big dogs staked out at various locations in the yard. They barked furiously and could reach us if we entered the yard. We could not get to the front door. We called the phone number provided by the school. It went to voicemail. The CW left a message indicating a need to speak with the mother immediately, and gave a return number.

I wondered what we would do? We had to see the child but were prevented by the locked gate and dogs. Finally, we saw a neighbor in the yard down the street. We asked some questions. The neighbor said she knew a couple with 2 girls lived there but didn’t see them out much. She informed that the woman was a granddaughter to the previous owner who had died a few years before. She said the house had been condemned at one point because it was so filthy, but the family had cleaned it up. She said the mother and father both worked and told us what cars they each drove. We left and returned to the school.

According to school records, there was a friend or relative listed as emergency contact, and they showed mother’s work number. The CW called the contact. She said that mother worked as a cafeteria worker and would be home soon. She said the 10 year old daughter was probably in the house. She also said we would need to show up before the father got home or we wouldn’t be able to gain entrance.

We went to the house and waited. The mother finally arrived. She was tall, very thin, had broken teeth, limp hair. She met us on the driveway to hear our concerns. Her eyes were tired, she looked defeated, worried. We asked if we could speak with her daughter. The girl was bi-racial. She made eye contact, then looked to her mother. The woman nodded toward her and looked away. It was difficult to determine what her eyes told the girl. The CW took the girl to the edge to the driveway, mother retreated to the house. The CW asked the girl why she had stayed home from school. She said she had been sick that morning. The CW asked why someone would call in a referral and say that abuse was occurring. The girl said she didn’t know. “Is someone bothering you?” CW asked suddenly. The girl shook her head and quickly said ‘No!” “Then why did you tell people at school that someone was yelling at you and hitting you?” She pressed almost angrily. The girl claimed she hadn’t said anything like that. She said no one was doing anything wrong. Tears welled up in her eyes but she blinked them back. The CW seemed confrontational. She point blank asked if her stepdad was doing things to her. The scared girl, answered, “No, and he is not my stepdad, he’s my real dad.” “Ok, then”, said the CW with a stern look, “this is your chance to get help if you want it. I think he is hurting you and yelling at you just like you told a teacher at the school.” “No, no, she replied, I didn’t.” “Well, said the CW, here’s my card if you change your mind, you can call me.” The girl ran back into the house, while the dogs barked at us.

Her mother came to the gate. The CW informed her that we got no disclosure and that was the end of it. She said, “You might want to make sure that your husband is not abusing the kids because you can be charged for not stopping him.” The woman nodded, tucked her chin down, wrung her hands, and asked if we needed to talk to her husband. “No, CW answered, I don’t need to speak with him because we got no disclosure. The case will be closed unsupported.” The mother sighed, with what appeared to be relief, and thanked us for coming. The CW walked away brusquely.

When we got to the car, she said, “Stupid woman, you can tell that he beats her, that he beats the kids, but she won’t leave him, they never do!” She was angry. “What a waste of our time,” she cursed. “You can’t help someone who won’t help herself. I’m not going to waste time feeling sorry for her.”

I was…shocked….worried…..confused. I could think of a dozen different ways to engage rather than condemn. I thought about the training I had been receiving, to the books I had recently read about social work. This didn’t feel like what I expected.

We went back to the office. The shred bin was at the doorway to CW’s office. She shoved the papers through the slot and indicated she was done with it. We went to her office and she showed me how to close the case. There were numerous documents required. She raced through them, and indicated that they meant nothing. “Don’t waste any time on these unless you get a disclosure,” she stated firmly. She wrote three logs, one about the information she gained at the school, one about her interview with the girl, and one about talking to the mother. They were brief. The case was closed in minutes. “We’ll see this family again”, she said wearily, “it is only a matter of time.”

Two other CW’s entered her office. One was Native American, single, with a couple of kids of her own; the other, a woman with 5 kids, married to a military officer. They had both been with the agency a long time. The three of them began having a discussion as if I was not there. They looked at me every once in awhile, with a questioning look, but I had been told to keep my mouth shut so I did. One stated that the supervisor, Betsy, was driving her crazy. “I can’t believe they made her supervisor”, said the other with a bit of malice in her voice, she doesn’t know anything. She is so stupid, honestly.” They went on to list her crimes. The new supervisor had never worked CPS. She was highly religious and this seemed to offend them. She was older. She had instituted stupid rules. She wanted to know where they were every minute. She was ridiculous.

I continued to KEEP MY MOUTH SHUT and eventually excused myself to do something else. I warned myself to never tangle with these women, and to never trust them. I didn’t know whether to tell my supervisor what had been said, or keep my mouth shut about this too. I wished they had kept their mouths shut! I liked my idealist belief that all caseworkers were good, honest, hardworking, engaging, moral people who were out to help others. Now, I had to accept new information into my worldview and I didn’t like it much. Knowing myself fairly well at this point, I also knew that I would not always keep my mouth shut. Someday, I would tell them what I believed about their practice of social work! But then, I decided to take my supervisor’s words seriously. I was the novice and knew nothing. A few weeks later, CW was promoted to a trainer position!

Day 1--Learning to Keep My Mouth Shut

So, I had been introduced to 5 co-workers, one male, four female, and given a huge binder, which contained policy. For several hours I was instructed to read and understand this strange legal guide to the practice of child welfare. Since I had no prior knowledge of child welfare, it may as well have been written in a foreign language.

I was scheduled for 6 months of training, one day a week, to indoctrinate me with the perspective of the agency. My boss and co-workers were supposed to give me hands on experience for a couple of weeks before I would be thrown out there to sink or swim. Each co-worker gave me morsels of advice.

1. Meet priority, 1 hour, 24 hours, or 72 hours, depending on whether there is blood, a perpetrator in the home, then, everything else.
2. Drive back to the house over and over again, because home visits must be unannounced and are required.
3. Call law enforcement first. It is their case if it is potentially criminal, and you can get in trouble without their permission to approach, but good luck getting the Sgt. to answer the phone before priority runs out.
4. Call your detective and keep him/her on his/her toes, because they will let cases sit or slide.
5. Know your community resources so you can tell people where to go for help.
6. Learn how to interview without leading questions.
7. Cover your butt by staffing cases with your supervisor. If you go down, and haven’t followed policy, no one will protect you.
8. Get your paperwork done ASAP, or it will get away from you and digging out is a nightmare.
9. There are hours of paperwork for each case, but at least it is now computerized.

Around noon, Lori, got a red tag. This was a 24 hour priority case because a step brother and sister were having sex in the home. And, a friend, a third female was involved. Mack sent me along to watch and learn.

Lori was 40ish, a mother with two kids of her own. She had been doing this work about 10 years. I learned over time she was probably one of the better workers on the team. She called law enforcement (LE). A detective agreed to meet at the school. She drove her own car and explained how to write down and turn in mileage claims as we drove. I read the case report as we neared the school.

It stated that a mother had come into the Jr. High that day and requested a locker change. The school personnel said, “If we change everybody’s locker just because they want it changed, we would have hundreds of requests, no way.” Mother replied, “But my daughter’s locker partner had sex with her and she doesn’t want to be friends with her anymore.”

What? I reread the allegations. These were 7th grade students! They could easily be the 6th graders I had taught the previous spring! Apparently the mother continued to tell the school secretary that her daughter had a threesome with her girlfriend and the stepbrother of the girlfriend. I thought it couldn’t possibly be true, seriously, 12 years old having a threesome… no way. Further, if my daughter had sex with someone at age 12 or 13, I wouldn’t simply ask for a locker change, I would be calling the police myself, or at least confronting the other parents.

We arrived at the school, met Det. Trimble, a female. After some paperwork, showing ID and badges, the alleged victim was brought to a conference room. Det. Trimble and Lori explained to the victim, Mary, that she wasn’t in trouble, and they proceeded to ask questions that would elicit honest explanations about what had happened. They did not come right out and ask why she had sex with her friends, but it was clear the girl knew why they were there to speak with her.

Mary seemed reluctant. She tipped her head downward, her face showed embarrassment. Frequently she looked up and to the side as if thinking about her answer. She twisted her hands in her lap, shredded a tissue.

Mary said her friends Stacy and Bryan forced her to have sex. She said they tied her up, held a knife to her throat, and then both assaulted her. She said this happened sometime during the summer. When asked why she told now, rather than weeks ago, she admitted that Stacy said some bad things about her to other friends and she was embarrassed. She told so her mom would get her locker changed. Det. Trimble questioned about the knife and how she was tied up. Mary indicated they got the knife from the kitchen and tied her to the bedposts with towels from the kitchen. Later, she said they entered the home through a basement door and said they found the knife on top of the dresser. She reported they engaged in oral sex, each on the other 2, the boy had penetrated both girls vaginally and anally, and they had stuck pencils into each other. She said they used a condom so they wouldn’t get pregnant. Mary insisted she had been forced. Her story was detailed and showed a great deal of sexual knowledge. I was more than shocked, and I was doubtful of her story.

The minute she left, and before the next child was brought down, I said, “I don’t think she was forced. How can you engage in oral sex if you are tied up, and further, she talked about getting the knife from the kitchen but then later said they found it on the dresser.” Lori eagerly said, "Wow, I didn’t notice that." Det. Trimble had a puzzled look on her face but said nothing.

The other two children were interviewed. They told a similar story about engaging in every sexual situation they could imagine, and added that it was Mary’s idea and that Mary had stolen a condom from the 7-11 store on the corner. Bryan said the condom wouldn’t fit because he wasn’t big enough yet, and so they tied it on with a rubber band. He said they only had one so he used it on both girls, up their butts, and in their crotch. He told about the pencils and said they threw them away after because they were disgusting. He also informed that Mary had introduced them to pornography on her home computer. He was surprised when the detective asked about whether they tied Mary up. He said. “No, but we watched some porn where a girl was tied up.” Stacy gave a corroborating statement. Everything matched except she added that Mary had started telling everyone that Stacy and Bryan were having sex, so Stacy had set the record straight. She explained that is why Mary got mad, because then everyone started talking about her too. Both Stacy and Bryan were quite matter of fact, although after they were told their parents were being called down, they panicked, got very serious, and weepy.

The various parents were as shocked as I was. Again, I kept thinking of my former students. Up until this moment, I was naïve and innocent, but no longer! Lori spoke with the parents of Stacy and Bryan and they agreed to a safety plan that would keep the two kids separated. They agreed both would go to sex abuse treatment with a local agency that operated within the values of their religion. Det. Trimble said they might be charged as juveniles and appear in court, even though everything appeared consensual. Now, they were mad. Lori gave a detailed description of the juvenile process and helped the parents understand that supervision and treatment would help the kids understand boundaries and hopefully refrain from repeat offenses. They worried whether they should hire an attorney. They wondered why we were involved at all. This was after all, normal kid stuff.

I thought, “good grief, normal kid stuff”. I surely did not know of any kids who had done so much in one afternoon, at least voluntarily! I must have been sheltered!

Mary’s mother was equally defensive and argued that her daughter couldn’t possibly have accessed porn on the home computer. But sure enough, when the detectives searched the home and computer, there it was, saved and hidden right under mom’s nose. Further, there was no headboard that Mary could have been tied to in the basement bedroom.

The locker was changed. All 3 kids were charged because in this state, no one can give consent under the age of 14, even if the other kid is also under 14.

I felt proud of myself. My comments about the knife had helped Detective Trimble see the truth. Then Mack called me into his office the next morning. “What were you thinking?” he accused. “Did you think you were so smart that you could tell the detective how to solve the case?” I was humbled but stuck my chin up in self-defense as he shook his head in shame at me. I turned red but remained silent.

Then Mack gave me my first REAL lesson. Keep your mouth shut. Don’t ever burn bridges with your community partners or co-workers and always build up the egos of detectives if you want them to run when you need them. He also explained that no matter what I thought I knew, they looked at me as stupid and green and I would need to wait at least a year before ever offering an opinion again. Then he winked and said with a smile, “but Lori told me you were right on and that you were actively thinking and watching everything. Good work.”

Ok, OK, I will try to keep my mouth shut, but for me that is a VERY difficult assignment. At least he didn’t tell me to stop thinking.