by Gay Courter
To complicate matters, this was the highly emotionally charged period when we were trying to arrange a visit to Tammy in Washington and when Red Stevenson’s case was being prepared for trial. As plea bargains and prosecution strategies were discussed, I soon realized that any situation that would make Alicia happy had Cory despondent and vice versa. Even I became confused as to what was bad news and what was good news, and wondered if it might not have been better for the Stevenson children to have been appointed separate guardians.
Lillian dismissed my concerns. “First of all, we don’t have enough volunteers to cover all the cases as it is, so a family is handled by one advocate. I know it is unusual to have the children turn against each other, but I know you treat each of them as individuals. And if you need to talk about anything, I’m always here.”
The next day I stopped by to take Alicia to a meeting with the prosecutor to go over some details of her testimony. While I waited for Alicia to finish dressing, Ruth came outside and stood by my car. “Mitzi talked me into taking a new kid yesterday.” With her head she indicated a boy raking leaves. “Yeah, I know I said I wouldn’t take boys, but they didn’t have a place for that one and I had a twin bedroom empty with a separate bathroom, so I said okay. I’m not keeping Larry unless they give me another boy to keep him company.” She rolled her eyes. “Don’t even say it! I can’t consider taking Cory because of how Milo feels about Rich.”
“Cory’s more like Alicia than Rich.”
“I know … let’s see if this kid lasts through the weekend.”
“Please, think about it, Ruth,” I begged just as Alicia appeared in a skirt so short I could see the lace edge of her panties. “I’d love those kids to have each other again.”
On the way to the courthouse, we stopped for lunch at a deli. Alicia was in a foul mood.
“What’s wrong?”
“I am sick and tired of everybody telling me and Cory what to do.”
“Hey, kiddo, who are you talking to?” I put down my onion bagel and pulled out my notebook. “Now, what do you, Alicia Stevenson, want?”
“I don’t want Cory to ever live with my dad again. That’s more important than Dad going to prison.”
“I’m glad you mentioned that because there is a chance your father might plead guilty if he is offered a less harsh sentence than he would get after a trial.” I looked down at what I had written. “So you’d like to have a plea bargain that protects Cory, right?”
“Yeah, and if they can’t arrange that, then I’ll go in front of a jury and do my best to convince them I am telling the whole damn truth!” Alicia took a bite of her bagel like she was a starving predator and it was her prey.
Once we were in Grace’s office, she went over Alicia’s ages during the first sexual encounters with her father and had her describe the marine shop bathroom. Alicia again confused the ages when she was in the tool shed and the marine shop.
Grace held up two pieces of paper and spoke firmly. “Alicia, are these statements you wrote?” Alicia acknowledged that they were. “I want you to take them home and go over them until you remember what happened, okay?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Alicia said, more snidely than I might have preferred.
In the large outer office Alicia began chatting with one of the secretaries. Grace touched my shoulder and pulled me aside. “If she makes a joke out of this, it will blow the case.”
“Grace, I don’t know if it is proper to do this, but if I have information on Mr. Stevenson’s past, should I give it to you?”
“Sure. We’re on the same side, aren’t we?”
“I’m on Alicia’s side,” I stated firmly. “I hope it isn’t too late to mention this—and you probably know it already—but when her mother was here she told me that Red’s first wife was killed by him. He was acquitted of manslaughter.”
Grace paled. “Where was that?”
“Tulsa, Oklahoma. Didn’t you run a background check on his criminal record?”
“It might not have ranged far enough, but it is probably inadmissible evidence.” She went on to explain the legal ramifications, and while I could see they protected a man’s rights, I felt they were essentially unfair to the victim.
“What else do you know?” she asked with a tired sigh.
I listed all of Red’s wives. “Maybe some of them would be willing to talk to you. Especially Denise Rhodes.”
“Sunny’s mother?”
I nodded.
“Now she might be useful.”
A few days after Cory moved to the ranch, Grace Chandler called me. “Mr. Stevenson has accepted a plea bargain. He will plead guilty to a second-degree felony for sexual battery of Alicia and in exchange the state will drop the charge on Dawn Leigh Pruitt. He’ll be adjudicated guilty and receive two years of house arrest, which means he has to be either at work or home, and ten years’ probation, a total of a consecutive twelve years. That will make him fifty-seven when he gets done. Also, he’ll be classified a certified sexual offender on his natural daughter and won’t ever be permitted to have children in his home again, including custody of Cory. He may have supervised visits with Cory, only, but no contact with Alicia or Dawn. He must attend mental health counseling for sex offenders, pay court costs, the fees for Alicia’s counseling, and will be responsible for some of Cory’s medical and other expenses. What do you think?”
“Alicia was most worried about protecting Cory, and she really doesn’t want to have to tell her story in a courtroom. But don’t you think that is a very liberal deal for a man who is looking at a minimum mandatory of twenty-five years?”
“Yes, but this does protect the children from the ordeal of trial and further contact with their father.”
“Then it is over?” I asked.
“No. The plea offer will be shown to Judge Donovan Monday morning for his acceptance.”
Immediately I phoned Alicia, but since she was out, I spoke to Ruth first. “Now that he has admitted his guilt, Alicia’s story is validated without her having to undergo the trauma of a trial,” she said enthusiastically.
Later that evening Alicia called. She did not want to attend the plea bargain hearing. “I just want it to be over.”
My next call was to Mitzi Keller. She had not been told the news and said she was bitterly disappointed that Red Stevenson might avoid any time in prison.
“I think this may be the best result, at least from the kids’ point of view,” I replied. “Alicia can get on with her life without having to testify in public, and once Cory understands he will not be going home again, he might look at his options more realistically and make a better adjustment.”
“Cory will also have to realize that a man does not plead guilty if he is innocent,” Mitzi added astutely.
Cory, though, had a different take on the news. “Dad did that to make it easier on us. It doesn’t mean he’s guilty.”
“However, this does mean you can’t live with him again.”
“What about me living with Gramps?”
“I don’t know about that. The authorities might think he has too many health problems.”
“He’d have me to help him, and in another year I’ll be able to drive!”
“There’s also your mother …”
“I’m not living with that bitch,” he replied in a fierce voice that dissolved into tears.
“Cory … I’m sorry.” His crying increased. “Cory …”
“Just … don’t”—he said between sobs—”don’t hang up.”
I stayed on for a long time. Unfortunately I was traveling to Boston for the weekend, but I promised to visit him on Tuesday.
Monday, though, brought another surprise. The judge rejected the plea bargain because the sentence was too light. He was insisting on a trial in two weeks. Grace Chandler hurriedly scheduled a pretrial meeting for that Friday.
I reached Alicia first with the news. She responded passively. “Whatever …”
Cory, though, took it harder
. “What else can go wrong in my life?”
I reminded him that I would visit the next day.
Imagining a rustic retreat set on rolling acres of green pastureland, I was bitterly disappointed by the “ranch.” Cory had not been settled into one of the family-style cottages, but was being kept for evaluation in the shelter dormitory section, which contained several dozen tough and formidable boys, many of whom were in transition either into or out of the juvenile justice system.
The unpainted concrete block dwelling was clean, and spacious, but depressingly bland. The boys either did chores, slept, lounged around the television, or sprawled in the dirt outside the front door. There were no supervised activities and the counselors were merely standing guard. Way off in the distance there were horses, but these did not belong to the ranch.
Stan Milton, the ranch supervisor, had met Cory almost a year earlier when he had entered his first shelter placement and was shocked at the change in the boy, who had metamorphosed from a cheerful downy-cheeked child to this much taller young person with a cracking voice and a defiant manner. “He has learned well what we have offered him,” Stan admitted ruefully. “He’s mastered the system.”
“Is there any hope?” I asked.
“Sure. I knew his brother, Rich, but, thankfully, he’s not like him. Cory thinks of himself as the ‘good brother,’ and I can work with that. When I called him on some of the behaviors that have gotten him to this place, he acted shocked, then denied he ever did anything wrong—blaming everyone else for his problems. After I talked him through this denial, he became angry at me. He cussed me out and threw a tantrum. In the end, though, he cried like a baby. That sadness is a breakthrough, for at last he is demonstrating appropriate emotions. It is not going to be pleasant for him or for the staff, but it is what he needs to do.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing! Finally someone was dealing with the real child with deep feelings—the Cory I represented—not some creature who required food, shelter, and training like an unruly pet.
“When will he move into a cottage?” I asked.
“He’s going to have to demonstrate that he can follow the rules better, especially regarding his foul language, which we won’t tolerate in our homelike settings.”
“How is he getting along with the other boys in the shelter?”
“They’re pretty rough and we’re overcrowded, so it’s not the best situation for him. But he’s pretty much a follower, so my job is to convince him to follow the right path.”
Stan showed me a handout he used with his staff: Nine Stages of Helping Emotionally Disturbed Clients.
“The problem with Cory, and lots of the boys, is that they move through predictable levels of adjustment, but because of inadequate management, often get stuck in a stage that blows their placement. Then they start over again at step one but never progress into a healthy phase.”
Stan guided me through the process of how children adjust to new programs. He explained that the first period of time in a new home is known as the “honeymoon,” when the child checks it out and tries to understand the family structure, personalities of the caregivers, and evaluates the rules to see how much deviancy is tolerated. During this time, the child merely watches and conforms. When he is comfortable, he enters the “limit testing” stage. Declaring he is no longer “Mr. Nice Guy,” he allows his true nature to surface and begins to see how much he can get away with. If his defiant behavior is checked, he enters the “active resistance” stage in which he becomes even more insubordinate and dares others to “get outta my face.”
“This precisely is where many foster placements collapse,” Stan explained. “When the poorly trained caregiver gets involved in a power struggle with the child, it is impossible to break the cycle of conflict. Eventually the foster parent decides to give up trying and asks for the rebellious child to be removed from his home.”
I saw how Cory’s smoking was classic limit testing. When the Sheldons didn’t punish him for smoking, Cory escalated to stealing cigarettes to provoke the Sheldons into proving whether they were in it for the long haul or not. From Cory’s point of view, they had failed the test. If Cory had been handled properly, he might have had a chance to move to the fourth level of “beginning trust and achievement.”
“On the other side of defiance,” Stan continued, “the child is able to make a decision for himself about whether he should go or stay. Caregivers who respond by enabling the child to make responsible decisions for himself help him into the crucial fifth stage we call ‘acceptance and progress.’ “
Now at last the child is actively able to join a family and enjoy the benefits of what they have to offer. “However, this is a time when foster parents often relax their guard and focus their attentions on a more needy individual, which can lead directly to the next phase of ‘negative personal demands and intense jealousy.’ “
I told Stan that I had seen this dynamic at play with Alicia, who had weathered most of the stages already in the Levy home. But she was always making claims on Ruth’s time and sulking if her needs were not met instantly. “What will happen to her?”
Stan explained that once someone like Alicia had achieved “clear social improvement” she might be ready to go out on her own. “But she still has to clear the hurdle of separation and regression. At that point her fears of the unfamiliar might actually cause deterioration in behavior.”
“What might she do?”
“Sometimes when these children expect they might be leaving, they act worse than when they arrived,” Stan explained. “They’re like wounded bears until they can express sadness about saying good-bye to one phase of life and moving on to another one.”
“I’ve seen some of this in Alicia,” I sighed. “But it’s a long way off for Cory.”
“Nothing can be rushed. We’ll take it step by step.”
I had left the Palomino Ranch with a renewed hope that Cory was in sensitive hands, but a week later Mitzi surprised me with some upsetting news. “Stan Milton called to report that Cory had a sexual incident with another boy. Apparently Cory was found naked in the other boy’s bed.”
“Did Stan say what happened?”
“No, the kids wouldn’t confess, but I know the other one, and he’s been in treatment for sexual offenses.”
“What are they doing about it?”
“They’re moving the other kid to a different cottage, but Stan is going to keep working with Cory.”
“What does Cory want?”
“He said that since things in court weren’t going his way—referring to the delays, I guess—he would stick it out at the ranch. That’s a good sign, don’t you think?” Mitzi asked hopefully.
“I like Stan Milton’s attitude. Since Cory’s always been abandoned by his many mothers, he might attach better to a man.”
“Gay, Cory’s back in town,” Mitzi reported two weeks later.
“What!” I responded in genuine shock.
“After midnight last night, Cory and a bunch of other thugs went on a rampage and broke the hinges on the doors.”
“Stan predicted something like that would happen. Why doesn’t he stand by him and see him through this phase?”
“He tried to,” Mitzi continued. “The rest of the boys are being charged with vandalism, but Stan wanted to give Cory a break because he may just have been part of the pack. In any case, the officials at the ranch won’t keep him.”
Mitzi gave me Cory’s phone number at one of the temporary shelters for kids in transition, the same place he had been taken the night he left his father’s house.
“Cory, how are you?” I asked after I had convinced the shelter worker to put him on the line.
“Okay, I guess. Time for a change anyway.”
“What happened?”
“You know the stress with the trial coming up …”
Sensing that Cory was using words that would manipulate me, I hardened slightly. “Cory, we’re running out of options fo
r you.”
“Stan will take me back at the ranch, I know he will. If I can stay cool until Wednesday, he’ll take me back.”
“I didn’t hear that, but I’ll check it out.”
“If they won’t, will you see if I can go home to my father?” he asked morosely.
“That’s impossible right now.”
“How about my mom?”
“Cory, that’s off in the future. I’m worried about where you will sleep tonight and tomorrow.”
“Gotta go,” he said, and hung up.
Two days later Mitzi reported Cory was in trouble at the shelter for smoking. “They found his butts in a trash can, and the cook caught him lighting a cigarette at a gas stove. He’s on probation. One more incident and I’ll have to move him.”
“Mitzi, have you ever seen Stan’s list of stages?”
“No, what do you mean?”
I explained how Cory was right in the middle of the “get outta my face” phase and wondered if someone couldn’t intervene to help him through it.
“Not when he knows the list better than we do. After I picked him up at the ranch, he actually seemed pleased with himself and said, ‘Hey, I got what I wanted, I got out of there.’ “
“Don’t you see, no placement is going to work out until Cory lands where he wants to be: back home with Dad.”
“That is never going to happen.”
“Maybe he’d be better off there.”
“With that pervert? Are you out of your mind?”
“I don’t see the difference in being molested by a kid at the ranch or his father at home.”
“Did I hear you say that?”
“Look, Mitzi, you know I don’t want anyone to hurt Cory. However, you and HRS are not protecting him right now, so don’t fool yourself into believing that you are.”
“And I was going to ask you to go to the shelter and talk some sense into him,” Mitzi said with much annoyance. “Now I have to find someone to talk some sense into you.”
