Unlike a lot of people I know, I have few regrets in life. While I am NOT suggesting that I haven't made several painful mistakes that both were detrimental to myself and hurtful to others, all of my good decisions and bad ones have led up to this moment right now; they have shaped the person I am today. Besides, no matter how much you or I may wish to change the past, we can't. So why worry about it?
However, with that stated, there is one event in my life that I have regretted above all others. Because of a decision I made, a 5 year old boy died. I didn't kill him, but I could saved him from being killed.
From time to time, I think of his name and all the life milestones he never had the chance to experience: his first kiss, obtaining a driver's license, graduating from high school, going to college, defending his country, becoming a parent, landing his first big job, and all the trivial things you and I take for granted.
It's a burden that I will take to my grave. How I wish I had one chance at a do over.
The year was 1990 and I was the Child Abuse Investigator for a large county in Arkansas. Not very willingly, I was getting ready to go to the staff Christmas party. It was near the end of the workday when a call came in about alleged abuse of a 5 year old boy. Because his father was already known to us and he was known to be a mean fellow, our county's administrator asked me to handle the case (it wasn't my week to be on call).
I willingly accepted the assignment. With our chief foster care worker in tow (it was her week to be on call), we set out to locate and interview the child. As an afterthought, we swung by the police department and requested that two officers accompany us because of the father's notorious demeanor.
Once the foster care worker and I examined and interviewed the child, it was readily apparent that he had been abused. We also examined and interviewed his five siblings. None of them showed any obvious signs of abuse. We next spoke to the parents and dad lived up to his reputation by swearing he would kill us all.
Our agency had recently sent down a state directive urging field investigators not to pull families apart and instead to order intensive family counseling when abuse or neglect was substantiated. We were directed to remove children from the home only when it was in the best interests -- safety -- of the child.
I consulted with the foster care worker and the two police officers. We debated back and forth as to what would in the best interests of this child. However, owing to the way in which Arkansas law was written at the time, the final decision rested with me alone. I was the county's trained and designated Child Abuse Investigator.
I was confident that either way I went that my decision would be upheld by the Juvenile Court who, if I chose to remove the child, would review the case within 72 hours. After going back and forth, I decided to leave the child in the home and I had the parents sign an agreement that they would participate in intensive family counseling. I told them that if they didn't comply with all expectations, I would be back and the child would be coming with me.
Six weeks later, as the result of the family's abusive disciplinary measures, the child died.
I certainly don't know what would have happened specifically in his life had I removed the little boy that night. He could have died in foster care. It doesn't happen very often, but it does happen. The Juvenile Judge could have returned him to the custody of his parents, at some juncture, and he could have died at their hands at a later date...
...or he might still be alive today.
All I do know is that my decision that night set the stage for a sweet little boy of 5 never to become a sweet little boy of 6.
My tears for him will stain my cheeks for as long as I live.
(There's more to this story and I'll get to it in a subsequent post or, maybe, two.)
However, with that stated, there is one event in my life that I have regretted above all others. Because of a decision I made, a 5 year old boy died. I didn't kill him, but I could saved him from being killed.
From time to time, I think of his name and all the life milestones he never had the chance to experience: his first kiss, obtaining a driver's license, graduating from high school, going to college, defending his country, becoming a parent, landing his first big job, and all the trivial things you and I take for granted.
It's a burden that I will take to my grave. How I wish I had one chance at a do over.
The year was 1990 and I was the Child Abuse Investigator for a large county in Arkansas. Not very willingly, I was getting ready to go to the staff Christmas party. It was near the end of the workday when a call came in about alleged abuse of a 5 year old boy. Because his father was already known to us and he was known to be a mean fellow, our county's administrator asked me to handle the case (it wasn't my week to be on call).
I willingly accepted the assignment. With our chief foster care worker in tow (it was her week to be on call), we set out to locate and interview the child. As an afterthought, we swung by the police department and requested that two officers accompany us because of the father's notorious demeanor.
Once the foster care worker and I examined and interviewed the child, it was readily apparent that he had been abused. We also examined and interviewed his five siblings. None of them showed any obvious signs of abuse. We next spoke to the parents and dad lived up to his reputation by swearing he would kill us all.
Our agency had recently sent down a state directive urging field investigators not to pull families apart and instead to order intensive family counseling when abuse or neglect was substantiated. We were directed to remove children from the home only when it was in the best interests -- safety -- of the child.
I consulted with the foster care worker and the two police officers. We debated back and forth as to what would in the best interests of this child. However, owing to the way in which Arkansas law was written at the time, the final decision rested with me alone. I was the county's trained and designated Child Abuse Investigator.
I was confident that either way I went that my decision would be upheld by the Juvenile Court who, if I chose to remove the child, would review the case within 72 hours. After going back and forth, I decided to leave the child in the home and I had the parents sign an agreement that they would participate in intensive family counseling. I told them that if they didn't comply with all expectations, I would be back and the child would be coming with me.
Six weeks later, as the result of the family's abusive disciplinary measures, the child died.
I certainly don't know what would have happened specifically in his life had I removed the little boy that night. He could have died in foster care. It doesn't happen very often, but it does happen. The Juvenile Judge could have returned him to the custody of his parents, at some juncture, and he could have died at their hands at a later date...
...or he might still be alive today.
All I do know is that my decision that night set the stage for a sweet little boy of 5 never to become a sweet little boy of 6.
My tears for him will stain my cheeks for as long as I live.
(There's more to this story and I'll get to it in a subsequent post or, maybe, two.)
It is very good of you to tell this story as I know of people who could well relate to this situation of regrettable events. There are certainly many people who will benefit from your opening up as they will see it is not just them who have to deal with such things.
ReplyDeleteIt's weird. I'll be puttering along and, out of nowhere, the little boy's name will just pop into my head. It always makes me sad and feel bummed out.
ReplyDeleteThis is a very sad story, but you just don't know what could have happened. He could have died at another juncture, or he could have grown up so scarred to become an abuser himself. It's an Uncle Chou's horse kind of thing. At some point you need to release your guilt (which is rooted in desire) and move on.
ReplyDeleteOf course that's easier said than done.