Every state
has thousands of pages of rules, regulations and laws concerning the
investigation of alleged child abuse and the removal of children from their
homes. But despite all that exists on
paper, in real life child welfare is, in the words of Diane Redleaf, executive
director of the Family Defense
Center “a lawless system.”
Child
welfare systems are arbitrary, capricious, and cruel. A child’s fate depends on where that child
lives, which caseworker shows up at the door and what mood she’s in.
This can be
seen in the fact that when one compares states, or even counties within a
state, there is wild variation in decision making: The rate at which a call is
accepted for investigation (“screened in”) the rate at which investigated cases
are “substantiated” – a misleading term which usually means that a caseworker
has decided, on her own that she thinks there is slightly more evidence than
not of maltreatment – and the rate at which children are torn from everyone
they know and love and consigned to foster care all vary enormously.
So, for
example, even after factoring in rates of child poverty, a child in Nebraska is
more than five times more likely to be taken from his or her parents than a
child in Illinois. In California, where
child welfare systems are run by counties, a child is nearly three times as
likely to be taken away in Butte County than in Tulare County.
But some of
the strongest evidence of the fundamental lawlessness of child welfare has come
from studies in which the people who decide whether to “screen in” a phone call
alleging abuse or neglect are given hypothetical cases. Studies in New York in 1986 and Florida in
1991 found dramatic variation from county to county or even hotline operator to
hotline operator.
The most
recent, and most comprehensive such study that I know of comes from the
Office of the Legislative Auditor in Minnesota – a state which, year after year,
takes away children at rates far above the national average. It was released in February. It is a strikingly thorough assessment of how
more than 80 different county run child welfare systems make their screening
decisions. The study used several
methods, including giving the screeners ten hypothetical cases, based on
actual, typical calls to child protection “hotlines,” and asking if they would
be accepted for investigation or not.
In only
three cases did even 80 to 82 percent of the screeners agree (and in at least one
of those cases, as is discussed below, they were dreadfully wrong). In three more cases, 64 to 71 percent of
screeners agreed. And in the remaining
four they split almost 50/50.
A SYSTEM GONE TO POT
The case
that produced the most agreement that it should be screened in, actually was
one of those where the evidence was strongest that the best thing the county
child welfare agency could have done was leave the family alone. This is the hypothetical case:
Dr. Jones calls to report
that Emily Blackdeer tested positive for marijuana after giving birth to a baby
boy yesterday. He says the child’s meconium was not tested due to a mix up.
Jones reports that Emily also tested positive for marijuana during her
pregnancy. Jones said Emily told him she smoked marijuana during her pregnancy
to help her with her appetite.
So in 80
percent of Minnesota counties, the stress any mother faces right after giving
birth could be compounded by a child protective services worker coming to the
door, poking and prying into the home asking mom about the most intimate
aspects of her life, questioning friends, neighbors and relatives. (For reasons
discussed below it might not play out that way in Minnesota, but the risk
remains considerable.) All because, like a great many Americans, mom smoked
pot. All this could happen to the
mother, and the child could be placed at risk of foster care, in spite of the
fact that Mom clearly was getting prenatal care - something she probably won’t
do next time, since her doctor turned her in.
The
enormous potential for harm in just these circumstances was well documented in
stories in The
New York Times and Philadelphia
Citypaper.
In part
this may be because Minnesota’s idiotically, broad, vague definition of
“neglect” (as one county screener admitted, they could, if they chose, screen
in almost any call) is specific on one point: “prenatally
exposing a child to controlled substances” automatically is defined as “neglect.” But in this hypothetical, we don’t know if
the infant was born with marijuana in his system.
Another
possible reason: The mother’s fictional name is Blackdeer, suggesting she might
be Native American. The hypotheticals
used a wide variety of names, some of which suggested the family’s race. Unfortunately, the study did not go further
and try giving identical hypotheticals with different racial descriptions to
the screeners to test for the
common problem of racial bias in child welfare decision-making.
The study
notes that “Staff at one agency explained that marijuana use is so common in
the area that when a positive marijuana test is the only concern, they screen
out the referral and offer child welfare services instead.” But another county “screens in marijuana use
because of the risk of mis-socializing a child.”
Right. Because nothing “socializes” a child better
than a few foster homes.
In
contrast, only 47 percent of counties would screen in a case in which a mother
allegedly “is drunk every day to the point of throwing up and has withdrawal
tremors from alcohol.” The father, who
does not have custody, says the mother’s friends brought their four-year-old
son to him because mom “was too drunk to take care of” the boy.
Of course
in this case, the controlled substance is legal, and there are no
ethnically-identifiable surnames.
ANOTHER APPALLING EXAMPLE
And it gets
weirder still. In 54 percent of
counties, this case would be “screened-in:”
Police fax the following
report: I responded to a report of five-year-old Davie Michaelson wandering in
town. I met with Ann Johnson, a passerby who had found this child. While I was
speaking with Ann, a man approached who said he knew the child. He directed me
to a house at the end of the block. The yard was fenced, but the gate and front
door were open. I entered the house and found Tammy Michaelson (Davie’s mother)
sleeping on the couch. I awakened her and she explained that she had worked the
third shift at the gas station last night and had left the boy to watch
cartoons while she napped. The TV was on with a children’s DVD playing. Tammy said
she had locked the door, but Davie must have unlocked it and left.
A [records] search shows that Tammy, age 21, received children’s mental health services as a child.
A [records] search shows that Tammy, age 21, received children’s mental health services as a child.
I’ve
written before about the double
standards that abound in these types of cases. In an example of the kinds of unwritten rules
that substitute for the rule of law in child welfare, a screener in one Minnesota
county said that “caregivers generally get one free pass on wandering child
allegations because such incidents often are accidental.
Other
appalling decisions include:
●
Twenty-nine percent of counties saying they would screen in a case where the
only allegation is that a father who was evicted from his apartment now lives
with his ten and 12-year-old sons in a trailer with no plumbing or electricity. In other words, he’s poor.
● More
than one-third of counties would investigate a mother whose only crime was to
have been punched and choked by the father while the children were upstairs
playing video games and may or may not have heard what was going on. At least one county said they recently had
screened in a case that involved parents yelling at each other, with no
allegation of physical maltreatment.
This
in spite of the fact that the danger to the child can be removed by arresting
the abuser (an approach pioneered in Minneapolis) and in spite of the enormous body of
research on the extra measure of harm done to children if those children
are taken from their mothers under these circumstances.
THE ROLE OF DIFFERENTIAL
RESPONSE
To
some extent screening in cases like the pregnant mother who smoked marijuana or
the father who simply was poor might be explained by the fact that Minnesota
pioneered “differential
response,” in which some cases that normally would be screened out, and
some which otherwise would get a full-scale investigation instead receive an
“assessment” in which the agency offers help without the threat of removal.
But
differential response exists statewide in Minnesota, yet there remains enormous
variation in deciding whether to screen in cases. And differential response was never intended
to be used in cases where the only issue is poverty or a mother who smokes pot
while pregnant.
A more
likely explanation can be found in this question, asked in a survey of
screeners in Minnesota counties. They
were asked if they agreed with the statement that “At times, child protection
interventions can be more harmful than helpful to families.” Now, keep in mind, virtually everyone in
child welfare knows that you are supposed to at least pretend to agree with
that statement, given the gigantic body of evidence showing that it is true.
Yet 22
percent of screeners disagreed or strongly disagreed with that statement. In other words, nearly one time in four, a
call to a child welfare hotline in Minnesota is likely to be taken by someone
who has no clue that the investigation ever can do any harm to anyone.
That
should cause a lot of people in Minnesota to be afraid – especially if they
live in poor neighborhoods or on Indian reservations.
Making
things worse: A bizarre Minnesota practice called a “child welfare check” and
an insidious financial incentive to screen in cases. That story in a future post.