In my last post, I told you of my one regret. Now, I'll tell the rest of the story.
As soon as the media got a hold of the story and found out that the state's social service agency played a role in the child's death, it became front page news. In a very short amount of time, I became Public Enemy #1. I was vilified up one side and down the other. Editorials were written against me. Letters to the editor were sent in that suggested I be strung up, executed or worse. Some people viewed me as a tool of Satan.
Of course, as the media are prone to do, the issues involved were presented like a black and white situation. It was a common opinion that any rational person reviewing this case would have saved the child by removing him from the abusive environment. Plain and simple.
No mention whatsoever was made of our state's directive NOT to "yank" kids as frequently as before (though I certainly didn't remove children that frequently anyway). No mention was made of the fact that, though my county had the staffing needs of 3 investigators, funding ONLY allowed for 1 -- me. One central fact was mentioned ad nauseam and I have myself to blame for it.
I have always had social anxiety; it simply has grown worse the older I get. On the night the investigation took place, our annual Christmas party was scheduled for a nice restaurant 20 miles from our office. Originally, my plan was to skip it since I do not like gatherings of almost any size. However, my co-workers had bugged and browbeat me into agreeing to attend. They said it wouldn't be the same without the witty me in attendance.
With this background, we now return to the investigation itself. When we first interviewed the children, the parents weren't home -- only an aunt was present. I think they had gone to a local liquor store or something like that. As we waited for them to return, before I rendered my decision as to the disposition of the child, I made an offhanded, tongue-in-cheek comment to my co-worker in a hallway away from the room the children and aunt were in.
She knew I really didn't want to go to the party. She knew that crowds -- even the close knit staff for our county social services office -- made me anxious. So, while waiting, I said to her sarcastically, "Gee, this waiting is going to make us late for the Christmas party!"
After the investigation was finished and I decided to leave the child with his family, I told my co-worker I was headed home for the night. She convinced me that going to the party -- even if only to make the briefest of appearances -- might be a good thing as the whole situation that night had been very intense. Reluctantly, I went. After discussing the case with our county administrator and my immediate supervisor at a table far from the festivities, I visited with my coworkers briefly and then left. Tough cases like this one didn't make me feel very merry.
But that one tongue-in-cheek sentence came back to haunt me -- courtesy of the aunt. It allowed the media to portray me as an uncaring and callous investigator who was more interested in getting to a party than making a decision in the best interests of this child. It turned me from a hardworking and dedicated investigator -- one who agonized over every decision I made that impacted children and their families -- into something akin to the Antichrist.
That one sentence led the state -- who originally told me and our unit they would stand behind us 100% -- to fire me and our county administrator in a grand public spectacle. While I was none too pleased with this turn of events, I didn't fight back nor try to clear my tarnished name. (I'll cover that aspect in the next post.)
How could I fight it? I still had my life. A child was dead.
As soon as the media got a hold of the story and found out that the state's social service agency played a role in the child's death, it became front page news. In a very short amount of time, I became Public Enemy #1. I was vilified up one side and down the other. Editorials were written against me. Letters to the editor were sent in that suggested I be strung up, executed or worse. Some people viewed me as a tool of Satan.
Of course, as the media are prone to do, the issues involved were presented like a black and white situation. It was a common opinion that any rational person reviewing this case would have saved the child by removing him from the abusive environment. Plain and simple.
No mention whatsoever was made of our state's directive NOT to "yank" kids as frequently as before (though I certainly didn't remove children that frequently anyway). No mention was made of the fact that, though my county had the staffing needs of 3 investigators, funding ONLY allowed for 1 -- me. One central fact was mentioned ad nauseam and I have myself to blame for it.
I have always had social anxiety; it simply has grown worse the older I get. On the night the investigation took place, our annual Christmas party was scheduled for a nice restaurant 20 miles from our office. Originally, my plan was to skip it since I do not like gatherings of almost any size. However, my co-workers had bugged and browbeat me into agreeing to attend. They said it wouldn't be the same without the witty me in attendance.
With this background, we now return to the investigation itself. When we first interviewed the children, the parents weren't home -- only an aunt was present. I think they had gone to a local liquor store or something like that. As we waited for them to return, before I rendered my decision as to the disposition of the child, I made an offhanded, tongue-in-cheek comment to my co-worker in a hallway away from the room the children and aunt were in.
She knew I really didn't want to go to the party. She knew that crowds -- even the close knit staff for our county social services office -- made me anxious. So, while waiting, I said to her sarcastically, "Gee, this waiting is going to make us late for the Christmas party!"
After the investigation was finished and I decided to leave the child with his family, I told my co-worker I was headed home for the night. She convinced me that going to the party -- even if only to make the briefest of appearances -- might be a good thing as the whole situation that night had been very intense. Reluctantly, I went. After discussing the case with our county administrator and my immediate supervisor at a table far from the festivities, I visited with my coworkers briefly and then left. Tough cases like this one didn't make me feel very merry.
But that one tongue-in-cheek sentence came back to haunt me -- courtesy of the aunt. It allowed the media to portray me as an uncaring and callous investigator who was more interested in getting to a party than making a decision in the best interests of this child. It turned me from a hardworking and dedicated investigator -- one who agonized over every decision I made that impacted children and their families -- into something akin to the Antichrist.
That one sentence led the state -- who originally told me and our unit they would stand behind us 100% -- to fire me and our county administrator in a grand public spectacle. While I was none too pleased with this turn of events, I didn't fight back nor try to clear my tarnished name. (I'll cover that aspect in the next post.)
How could I fight it? I still had my life. A child was dead.
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