I Speak For This Child: True Stories of a Child Advocate

by Gay Courter

  We were back in front of the house. I handed Cory a card with the guardian office phone number and told him he could always call me collect.

  “Yeah, sure,” he responded. Even when he spoke sarcastically, there was something so guileless about his expression that it was difficult to take offense.

  “You don’t believe I’m on your side.”

  “Nope. You can’t be on my side and my sister’s side at the same time. She’s the one who broke up our family and put Dad in jail.”

  “If you could have a wish right now, what would it be?”

  “To be back home with Dad.” He jutted his chin.

  “You won’t be able to go back with him until after the trial, and then only if he isn’t found guilty.”

  “He won’t be.” Cory paused and waited for me to challenge him. When I didn’t, he asked, “When will the trial be?”

  “Probably not until this spring.”

  “But he’s supposed to get out of jail next month.”

  “Yes, but he’s in jail now for a different reason.”

  “Yeah, I know. When the judge said he was putting me in foster care, Dad said ‘bullshit.’ “

  “When you cuss in court, that’s called contempt. Your father got a forty-five-day sentence.” As I spoke, I saw Cory’s eyes flash with anger. “I guess you miss your father.”

  “I don’t want to see him in jail.”

  “How about when he gets out?”

  “Dad has to be supervised and he hates that HRS lady.”

  “I could be the supervisor, if you’d prefer.”

  “Yeah, I would,” he said, then glanced aside.

  “For now I’ll call you once in a while just to check in. How often would you like me to do that?”

  “I dunno.”

  “Once a week?” He grinned. “Okay, I’ll call you next week. I don’t have to tell anyone what you say to me unless I think you might be harmed. Otherwise everything is private.”

  A light rain was falling when we returned to his home. Renata MacDougal stood by the front door. Cory jumped out into a muddy rut and told her he was going to feed the cows.

  I received a call from Lillian Elliott the next afternoon. “Gay, I don’t know how to tell you this, but we have had a serious complaint about you,” she said in a tense voice.

  “From whom?”

  “Phyllis Cady.”

  “Who’s that?”

  “She’s in charge of the foster care program. She said that Cory would be asked to leave the MacDougal home if you ever phoned or visited there again.”

  “What did I do?” I asked, quickly trying to recall what might have caused the disturbance.

  “Mrs. MacDougal claims that you came to her house unannounced. Now while guardians sometimes do that, we always suggest an appointment for the first visit.”

  “Lillian, I certainly did have an appointment. I could never have found that place, which has a rural route box number, without detailed instructions. Actually Mrs. MacDougal gave me incorrect directions, and I only found the place by chance. What else?”

  “ She was upset that you allowed Cory to make a long-distance phone call, without her permission, and that he ran up her bill for a half hour.”

  I explained about Alicia’s birthday and using the office credit card, which Lillian could confirm. “Mrs. MacDougal showed me which phone to use and watched while I dialed.” My voice became tinny, betraying my indignation. “In fact, I even asked which long-distance carrier they used to be certain I didn’t need an access code for AT&T.”

  “Gay, I’m not upset with you. Complaints like this are a signal that a problem is coming to a head. I don’t think you necessarily created it, but one obviously exists.”

  “How can I protect his interests if I have no access to him?”

  “Do you think he is in any danger there?”

  “No, from most signs—exterior ones, anyway—it is a model home. But, Lillian, there is something creepy about it. It is too clean, too perfect. There are no indications that children live there. And I do have some concerns about Cory’s health.” I explained about him soiling his pants. “First thing this morning I called Dr. Goldberg on the child protection team and asked him if the problem—which he called ‘encopresis’—might be a sign of sexual abuse. He said the symptoms were worrisome and recommended an exam by a member of their team as soon as possible. I was going to call Mrs. MacDougal today and ask her to make an appointment with a child protection team doctor.”

  “I’ll make that request through Phyllis Cady. Nancy already has set an appointment to discuss your behavior with her and Mitzi Keller. You are welcome to come, but if you feel uncomfortable, we’ll handle it without you.”

  “I’ll be there.”

  We met in Phyllis Cady’s small office. When I arrived, Lillian was already seated with her hands folded in her lap. Nancy Hastedt came in just after me and took the seat opposite Phyllis.

  Phyllis thanked us for coming, then directed her comments to Nancy. “Our foster parent is very distressed at having a virtual stranger come into her home uninvited and dictate how she will manage children under her care. She cannot have someone filling the child’s head with the idea he has rights and privileges he has not earned. Renata MacDougal has been an exemplary foster parent who accepts some of our most difficult cases. We cannot allow one of your guardians to disrupt not only Cory’s placement but also two other hard-to-place emotionally and intellectually challenged boys.”

  “Before you blindly accept Mrs. MacDougal’s version,” Nancy inserted, “I think Gay should tell you what happened.”

  As I retold my side from the first phone call to set up an appointment to the birthday call to Alicia, the facts seemed too ordinary to have caused such controversy. I was complimentary about the spacious MacDougal home and attractive rural setting. I said that Cory seemed comfortable there and that he only wanted to leave to return to his father.

  “That’s not the way I heard it,” Mitzi Keller said to her supervisor.

  Nancy handed Phyllis a receipt proving the phone call had been billed to their credit card. “Also, Gay has a copy of her handwritten directions and the time of their appointment,” Nancy said.

  Phyllis studied them a long time before speaking. “Perhaps there was some misunderstanding, since Mrs. MacDougal has never had a guardian in her home before. All I know is that most of the children placed there do exceptionally well. One of her boys is going to enlist in the coast guard this summer.”

  “Isn’t he mentally handicapped?” I asked.

  Phyllis turned to Mitzi for verification. “Rudy would like to join the coast guard,” Mitzi replied hesitantly, “and the goal is good for his self-esteem.”

  “What about Cory’s self-esteem?” I blurted. “This is a child who deserves compassion and support, not punitive treatment.” Lillian’s head bobbed, giving me courage to continue. “I believe that empowering Cory and letting him know that he has rights in the system is important to his long-term emotional development.”

  Before anyone could interrupt, Nancy spoke. “I am fully satisfied that our guardian has acted within the scope of the program.”

  “Then you are forcing us to find Cory another placement,” Phyllis said dourly, “which means he’ll probably spend Christmas in an emergency shelter.”

  “Are you certain the MacDougals will throw him out?” Nancy asked.

  “Only if Gay stays involved with the case.”

  “I’ll be happy to step down, if that would be best for Cory.”

  “No!” Nancy stated firmly. “We are convinced Gay did nothing wrong. If we capitulate, Renata MacDougal can pull the same nonsense with the next guardian. But I am willing to suggest a compromise. I’ll assume that Mrs. MacDougal was ill-prepared for Gay’s visit and I would like someone from HRS to educate her about the rights and responsibilities of the court-appointed guardians. Also, I will take steps to have guardians appointed immediately for Rudy and Chris. In
the meantime, because Gay does not think it in Cory’s best interests to be moved abruptly, I will ask Gay not to visit or call Mrs. MacDougal until you’ve helped her to understand the advocate’s role.”

  “I don’t want to let Cory down,” I interjected. “I told him I would phone him in a few days.”

  “We’ll be happy to explain to him that you were asked not to call,” Phyllis said.

  “He needs a medical exam as soon as possible,” I added. “Will HRS arrange for it?”

  Phyllis’s mouth twisted like she was thinking hard. “Might be difficult right before the holidays.”

  “Might be even more difficult if there is no medical evidence for the prosecutor,” Nancy snapped back.

  The Monday after New Year’s the box of Christmas presents that I had sent to Cory was returned as “refused by addressee.” I phoned Lillian. “Anyone know how Cory is doing?” I asked.

  “Have you tried Mitzi Keller?”

  “No, I have been lying low, as per instructions.”

  “You’ve followed your part of the bargain. Now what do you want to do next?”

  “I would like to have some time alone with Cory and hear from him how he’s doing because there’s a court appearance on the Stevenson case coming up next week and I don’t know what to write about him in my report.”

  “That’s a fair request. Does it have to be at the MacDougals?”

  “I would rather it were somewhere else.”

  Lillian arranged for Mitzi to call me. “Mrs. MacDougal will bring Cory to my office at one tomorrow afternoon.” Mitzi’s voice was tense, but polite.

  “That’s fine, as long as I can spend some time with Cory alone.”

  “Renata MacDougal will drop him off and return in an hour.”

  My phone rang at 7:30 A.M. the next day. “Mitzi Keller calling, sorry it is so early but I am going to be visiting clients all morning and I wanted to catch you. Renata MacDougal has canceled the visit.”

  “Why?”

  “She’s worried that you might interfere in Cory’s discipline program. “

  “That’s hardly an excuse. What if her discipline program is inappropriate or abusive?” This time I did not bother to mask my annoyance. “Who’s looking out for Cory’s interests?”

  “I make frequent visits to that home. You saw it yourself. I wish all my clients had such a clean, wholesome environment.”

  “Clean perhaps, but I am not convinced it is a wholesome environment.”

  “He’s doing fine there.”

  “What about the bowel problem?”

  “Mrs. MacDougal said that has passed.”

  “Did he have the medical exam?”

  “I’m not sure,” Mitzi replied defensively. “Look, Gay, I didn’t cancel the visit, the foster mother did.”

  “I’ll have to talk to Lillian or Nancy,” I said in a slow, deliberate tone. “Maybe they would like me to ask the judge to order a visit.”

  “Isn’t that a bit extreme?”

  “What is extreme is that this child has a Guardian ad Litem who has been denied access to him for almost two months.”

  When I called Lillian, she reminded me that we would be in court in a few days to review Red Stevenson’s performance agreement, the contract with HRS, which, if completed satisfactorily, would enable Cory to return home if his father was not incarcerated. The documents had been drawn up by HRS and agreed to by Mr. Stevenson, but the judge still had to approve the terms.

  “You can use that opportunity to ask the judge what to do about Mrs. MacDougal.”

  On the appointed court date, I waited in the corridor for Mrs. MacDougal to arrive with Cory. They never appeared. When his case was called, I went in alone.

  Red Stevenson stood by his attorney while Judge Donovan reviewed the documents that stipulated Mr. Stevenson had to attend parenting classes, buy Cory an article of clothing each month, set up a bank account for him, and receive counseling. The judge put down the papers and then glared down from the bench at Mr. Stevenson. “I remember you and what revolting injuries you inflicted on your daughter.” I had not been present at the initial hearings when Alicia had been taken into the state’s custody but had heard that her testimony had been heartrending.

  The judge turned to Calvin Reynolds, the HRS attorney, and held the documents as though they smelled bad. “Can this performance agreement be waived so we can move directly to the termination of parental rights?” This was a startling turn of events, for it revealed the judge’s prejudice against Mr. Stevenson as a parent even before his criminal trial. However, there were two separate legal cases: the criminal, which would determine whether Red was guilty of a felony, and the dependency, which would conclude whether he was a fit parent to raise his son. Obviously, if someone is found guilty of the criminal abuse of a child, he is unlikely to be considered a suitable caretaker, but not all child abusers are prosecuted criminally. The burden of proof is much weaker in a child abuse case, and if there is sufficient information that a child might be harmed by a parent, the state can place that child outside of the home for his protection.

  Before replying, the attorney looked something up. “No, Your Honor, since we have already negotiated the performance agreement in good faith, and since the father has already taken some of the steps outlined in it, he has a right to continue to try meeting the terms under it.”

  Obviously annoyed, the judge reluctantly approved the document. He was moving the case file aside when I spoke up. “Your Honor, I am the Guardian ad Litem for Cory Stevenson as well as his sister, Alicia. Cory’s foster parents have tried to prevent me from seeing him and they have also denied visitation between the siblings, even over Christmas.”

  A wave of irritation crossed Judge Donovan’s face and his round cheeks flamed. “Is the foster family present?” he asked the caseworker.

  “No, Your Honor,” replied Mitzi Keller.

  “I suggest that you speak to your foster parents and ask them seriously to reconsider their position in this matter. If they still will not cooperate, you are to take the appropriate steps to allow the children to visit.” Mitzi Keller nodded.

  “Is that all?” he asked me.

  “Since the foster family has barred me from their home, it is impossible for me to serve as Cory’s Guardian ad Litem. Since I was appointed by you, Your Honor, I would be happy to step down if you think it best.”

  “I want you to continue as the guardian,” he said flatly, then turned to the next case.

  Two weeks passed without further progress. Nancy insisted on another meeting at HRS. “Either Mrs. MacDougal permits you to see Cory today or we ask for an emergency hearing this afternoon for the judge to remove him from that placement.”

  The gathering was held in the HRS conference room. Lillian, Nancy, and I sat on one side of the table. Renata MacDougal was already there. Mitzi Keller came in with another HRS worker, Gloria Nyswander, the caseworker for the other two foster children in the MacDougal home.

  While waiting for Phyllis Cady, Lillian told Gloria that the forms had been processed to appoint guardians for Rudy and Chris.

  “They are no problem,” Mrs. MacDougal said. “At least they know how to behave themselves.”

  “What sort of behaviors won’t you tolerate?” Lillian wondered.

  “Mouthing off, not doing chores, violence,” she replied.

  “What do you do to maintain your standards?” Lillian probed.

  “I remove privileges one by one.” She folded her hands on top of the table. “You see, these children have never had consistency in their lives. When they come to us they learn that we mean what we say. We don’t bend our rules, so eventually they relent and give in. We don’t care how long that takes.” Renata MacDougal held up her hand in a thumbs-up. Then she rotated her hand and lowered her thumb to the polished wooden table and slowly pressed it into the surface, as though grinding the carapace of a hard-shelled insect. “We grind them down.”

  I was watching Nancy�
�s expression. Her eyes widened and her jaw dropped. On my notepad I wrote: “Auschwitz guard?” then scribbled Mrs. MacDougal’s precise words, underlining grind.

  Gloria spoke enthusiastically. “Their system really works. When Rudy came to them, he was failing, and now he is an honor student.”

  “If you give them a chance, they could work wonders with Cory,” Mitzi chimed in.

  The rest of us sat in silence. Gloria broke it to ask Renata MacDougal, “Did you have a good Christmas?”

  “We always do. We spent four hundred dollars on each of the boys.”

  “That’s very generous,” Lillian commented.

  Phyllis Cady’s appearance brought the meeting to order. She spoke directly at Nancy. “We’re concerned that the interfering actions of a Guardian ad Litem have made it difficult for our foster parent to control this child.”

  “My guardian has not been permitted to see or talk to Cory since her initial visit.” Nancy bristled. “The fact is that Cory has been denied access to his court-appointed guardian, he has not been able to communicate with or see his sister, nor has he been examined by a physician.”

  “Is that true?” Phyllis asked Mrs. MacDougal.

  “I don’t see why this woman is undermining me by attempting to contact Cory behind my back,” Mrs. MacDougal said, pointing to me.

  “I have met Cory only once, and never even spoken to him on the phone,” I said defensively.

  “What about the package you sent?”

  “It contained Christmas gifts from me, but it was returned as not accepted.”

  “That’s not true. When I received the delivery receipt, I went to the post office to pick it up, but it had already been sent back.”

  “Which post office?” I asked.

  “Williamstown.”

  I opened my file until I found what I was looking for: the address label cut from the package. “I sent it UPS. Here is the original label.”

  Lillian kicked my leg under the table and suppressed a smile.

  Nancy cleared her throat. “There is no point going on. I have heard enough to ask you to remove Cory from the MacDougal home this afternoon. “