Tuesday, February 5, 2019

Broken trust, broken hearts, broken lives

I sat in the living room of the shelter waiting for a new set of sibling clients to be brought in to meet with me. They came in together, quiet, looking at the floor the both of them. They sat side by side on a couch adjacent to me and never lifted their eyes. The boy was 11, slightly built with freckles and a bad haircut. His sister, 14, had short cropped hair, was heavyset and wearing boy clothes. In more than 10 years of practice representing child victims of abuse or neglect, I had never seen two kids more beat down. I introduced myself and explained my role to them. I made sure they felt safe in their placement, asked them what questions they might have, and explained the court process moving forward to them. I don’t think they said more than 10 words combined the entire time I was there.

They were at the shelter rather than their home because their stepfather, who worked part time as a youth pastor at their church, was having sexual intercourse with the girl, P, in their tent while they were living at the lake. An off duty police officer saw what was going on through an open tent window and called the police and CPS. Their mother didn’t believe the allegations, despite the eyewitness, the statements of her daughter, and the subsequent DNA evidence. Their father was in prison because he had previously sexually molested the boy, J.
No wonder they were beaten down.
Finding foster homes for teenagers is a challenge. Finding foster homes that understand the deep trauma of sexual abuse is difficult. Finding foster homes that will take teen and preteen boy and girl siblings together, with this trauma and accompanying trauma behaviors, is impossible. P and J were placed in separate homes. Both were in and out of behavioral hospitals over those first months. P identified as lesbian and possibly transgender, and preferred boy clothes, boy haircuts, boy things. I don’t know if she was born that way or if it was a defense mechanism because of her history of abuse. I suspect she was born that way. I also suspect that her stepfather was in part trying to justify having sex with her because he was attempting to change who she was by showing her what it was to be with a man. P’s foster mother had her own ideas of trying to change who P was. She insisted she wear capri pants, and women’s blouses. She refused to buy the boxers or other clothes that P preferred. And then she wondered at why P would shame her by stealing men’s cologne and men’s underwear while visiting a relative’s home.
Visits with the mom were their own set of torture. She brought her Bible and those of the kids each week. And engaged in a Bible study for the hour that they had together. I would take notes on the passages she quoted so that I could read and research them afterwards, to make sure she wasn’t trying to say something to them she wasn’t supposed to say. Despite her repeated failures to protect them, the kids were always happy to see their mom. They were less happy to see the Bibles.
One day, the subject of the stepfather came up. I don’t remember what was said or by whom, but P finally showed more expression than I had ever seen her show. She railed at her mother over her failure to believe her, her failure to protect her, her decision to stay with him despite the allegations, her choice of him over her children. Child Advocacy Center counselors were brought in to try to calm P down and help her process her feelings. We questioned whether she was stable enough to go back to the foster home.
I had never before seen P display such emotion. Normally she kept it all inside, only letting it leak out through the cuts she placed on her arms when she couldn’t bottle it up any more. She loved to create art so I entered into a contract with her. I would buy her a good set of gel pens that she had been wanting and some good drawing paper if she would express her pain and her feelings with those rather than her blood. I held up my end of the deal.  She wasn’t quite as good, but I let it slide because she tried. And she needed someone to grant her some grace for once in her life.
Eventually the hospitalizations and the thefts broke down P’s final placement and both children were moved to Houston, again in different foster homes.  P got lucky. She ended up in a home that finally let her be who she was.  Where she felt comfortable.  Where she felt accepted. Where she felt loved. Where she felt safe.
J went from one group home to another, each run more like a business than the last. I would go visit him each time he changed placements.  To see how he was. To make sure his basic needs were being met. To make sure he felt safe. To take him away from the home for awhile. We would go to dinner and to the mall.  He had a sweet tooth and loved to visit the candy store in the mall.  Each time I would tell him it was time for me to take him back, he would come up with just one more thing he wanted/needed to do.  It was never about that thing. It was about feeling cared for and not wanting to go back to where he wasn’t.
In his last foster home in Houston, he acted out sexually on another child in the home. He was sent to an inpatient residential treatment center for juvenile sex offenders where he spent most of his last 18 months or so in care. He did well in the program. Each time I would visit him, I would take him out to eat. For a little skinny thing like he was, he could sure manage to pack away some food. He would joke about things at the RTC that most typical people wouldn’t find funny. But I wasn’t typical. While he would always want to stay with me as long as possible, his hesitance to go back had a different feel than it had in the foster homes. Less desperation. I think that he sensed the counselors and workers at the RTC cared about him more than his foster parents had. They wanted him to succeed.
After successfully completing the program at the RTC, J was sent to a foster home in the Dallas area shortly before his 18th birthday. He left soon after turning 18 and I lost touch with him after that.  It was several months or so later when I got a call from his former CASA, who had remained a good friend. She had been contacted by a police detective for information about J.  He was in jail because he had been arrested for aggravated sexual assault of two toddlers, the children of an old family friend with his own history of abusive behaviors toward J. J had been living in the home leaving care and going home to his mother, whose rights had previously been terminated, and then leaving there because he realized that nothing about her had changed.
My first instinct was to go to the jail and visit J and tell him it would be okay. But I knew that it probably wouldn’t be. And I knew that it wouldn’t be proper for me to do so. The best thing I could do was to reach out to his court appointed attorney to try to give him the relevant background information he needed to have on J’s own victimization to use as a mitigating factor in punishment. I found out later that he had plead him to a 40 year sentence without ever even reaching out to any of the people with information that may have helped reduce his sentence. In all the years since, what has bothered me most was whether J had wondered where I was. He always bragged that he had the best attorney. That I would come to see him whenever he went to someplace new.  There he was.  Someplace new. And I couldn’t go see him. To ask him if he felt safe. To take him out for a little while to get some food and to remember what it was to feel cared for.  He went to prison without ever knowing that again from me.
There are times still I want to reach out to him. To let him know I still remember him, and I still care whether he feels safe. To apologize for letting him down during the time in his life that he needed me the most.
These kiddoes. They were more than just my clients. I was more than just their attorney. They are part of the reason I am who I am as an advocate, as a person, as a future pastor. I hope they always knew how much I always believed in them, always cared for them, and always had their backs. Until I couldn’t anymore.

No comments:

Post a Comment

Feed my sheep

They come before me each day, the parents, and children. Frightened, ashamed, angry, or sad; sometimes all of the above all at the same time...