I Speak For This Child: True Stories of a Child Advocate (53 page)

My mother, who was a social worker and now lives nearby in Florida, also became a Guardian ad Litem, and we enjoy having this in common. One of her cases was a baby abandoned by both parents at the age of six months. The relative who had been stuck with the infant turned her over to foster care. Her first foster mother adored the child and immediately applied to adopt her. But as soon as the process began, the missing natural mother showed up—or at least her attorney made a court appearance—and claimed the mother wanted her baby back. Visitations were begun, with the mother only showing up for one out of five appointments, and then demonstrating very little interest in the child, who clung to her foster mother because she did not know her real mother. Finally, when the mother did not appear for two court hearings, termination of parental rights procedures were begun in preparation for the adoption. At the last minute a grandmother demanded custody of her granddaughter, and HRS changed the child’s plan from adoption to placement with a relative. My mother’s diligent investigation of this grandmother revealed she had given up three of her children to foster care and had lied about several other essential matters. After more than a year of constant prodding by the Guardian ad Litem, finally this little girl was adopted by her foster family, the only family she had ever known.

Sometimes the appeals process can last years and is definitely not in the best interests of children. Nancy had warned me that this delay would be the result if either Colby parent contested termination. By the time the appeals would be heard, Nicole and Simone could have turned eighteen, making the issue a moot point. This had given me the idea that termination of parental rights was not a permanent state, but a temporary one until the child was eighteen. Thus, after that age, a mother could continue a relationship with her child without anyone’s permission. Being a parent did not end at some magical birthday. When the Colby girls grew up and had families of their own, they might choose to socialize with their biological parents if a friendly relationship could be maintained. If I could help the Colby parents to see it in this light, perhaps they wouldn’t fight the adoption.

The problem was that what I had in mind was called an “open adoption,” in which the biological parents would be welcome to stay in touch with their offspring. But when parents signed the termination papers under Florida statutes, they had to agree to relinquish the child to HRS and consent to “give up all right to further information concerning the whereabouts of this child, or the identity or location of any adoptive parent of this child,” thus legally creating a “closed adoption” situation. For many years it was believed that it was in the best interests of the families involved to keep a child’s whereabouts secret, but in the United States there are more and more cases of “open adoptions” in which the mothers relinquishing newborns continue to have some knowledge of or contact with the adopting parents. This is due in part to the scarcity of babies for adoption, which leads to families meeting the birth mothers as a way to convince them they would be good adoptive parents for their children. Also, with less stigma attached to unwed mothers, the young mothers are not cloistered and do not feel the terrible shame that makes them refuse to reveal their identity. However, under the HRS adoption rules, nobody is allowed to promise parents that they can have continuing contact with their children. Even so, there was no way anyone could prevent the Colby children, who could use a telephone and soon would be driving, from contacting their parents. Also, the Slaters were not opposed to the children continuing whatever relationship with their parents that they desired.

I knew there was something wrong the minute I entered the HRS boardroom. Iris Quinones sat between Scott Keefer, the head of adoptions, and Dolly Lemoine, our county’s adoption caseworker. Nancy and I took the empty seats opposite, while the HRS adoption attorney, Myra Garland, stood at the head of the table. Nancy made the presentation of the Colby case, then asked me to fill in anything she had missed.

“We can’t do anything without signed terminations,” Myra Garland said.

“How are those coming, Gay?” Nancy asked me.

“Mrs. Hunt said she will sign any time it is appropriate and Mr. Colby hasn’t been approached directly yet.”

“They’ll never sign voluntarily,” Scott Keefer said emphatically. “How does it look for a court-ordered termination?”

“A very weak case,” Myra replied rapidly.

“The man just got out of jail,” I said.

“Not for hurting his kids,” Myra snapped.

“There are documented abuse reports.”

“They were a long time ago,” the lawyer said to prove she had read the file.

“The kids refuse to ever live there again.”

“Not true,” Scott said, flipping through one of Iris’s reports. “Julie says she would like to live with her dad.”

I shot a glance at Iris, who looked away. “When did she say that?”

“Last week.”

“After she was grounded by Mrs. Baldwin for refusing to help with chores?”

“These kids know the system and how to jerk everyone around,” Iris said.

“They’re in therapy to work on that, but they aren’t going to improve by staying in the system for the rest of their lives,” I added.

“Look, Nancy,” the attorney said, spitting the words like machine gun bullets, “I know you have the best intentions, but I don’t think your guardian has the experience to see the pitfalls. This is a classic setup for a failed adoption.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Adoption sounds like a panacea. The papers are signed and everyone lives happily ever after, but adoptive parents get fed up, particularly with adolescent behaviors, and they turn the kids back to us and we have to accept them. Then we’re stuck with three kids who will take this next failure so hard emotionally they will be worse off than before, and will probably spend the rest of their minority in foster care.”

“I don’t see the difference,” Nancy responded. “They’ll be in foster care in a few weeks anyway. Adoption is a chance, maybe only a slim one. Why should we second-guess it and deny them this little window of opportunity?”

“There is a tremendous amount of work putting one of these adoptions together,” Scott continued. “I like to direct my limited resources at children who have more of a chance at success.”

I looked around the room wondering why everyone was so antagonistic. Dolly Lemoine had her back turned so she would never have to look at either me or Nancy. I could not understand why none of them would give this situation a chance. “You don’t know these girls,” I said, pleadingly. “Their therapist has stated that they have more potential for change than any kids she’s ever seen. If I put them in a group of high-functioning children from stable homes and asked you to pick them out, you wouldn’t be able to.” I fumbled in my file for the snapshots from the craft fair and passed them around. Nobody seemed to care, but I left the photos face up in the middle of the table.

Dolly Lemoine spoke up for the first time, but she still didn’t face the gathering. “We have other sibling groups who have been on the waiting list for years that the Slater family might be interested in.”

Nancy saw my back stiffen and leaned over as if to soothe me. “The Slaters are only considering these children,” I snapped. “You heard the story of how they felt compelled to take them in.”

“That’s what worries me the most,” Scott said. “They sound unstable to me. One of these kids is going to pull some typical teen stunt, and they are going to toss her out.”

“This theorizing isn’t getting anywhere,” Nancy said. “Let’s formulate a plan for proceeding. If it begins to unravel, we can reevaluate then.”

Scott Keefer deferred to the attorney. “I want to see those terminations,” Myra said. “And I don’t want them tainted.” She stared meaningfully at Nancy.

“You want them vetted by the parents’ attorneys and without guardian involvement, right?”

Myra nodded, then said she had another appointment.

“There are many other obstacles,” Scott added after she left. “Our budget has been cut and we won’t be able to do a home study for at least three months. In the meantime, the children need birth certificates, psychological reports, and medical and dental examinations. I’m afraid we do not have funds for any of those right now.”

I was smiling. I had copies of the birth certificates all ready. Dr. Abernathy could write the psychological. I had friends who were doctors and dentists who would gladly perform exams for the children to be adopted.

“Your guardian thinks this is some sort of joke,” Scott Keefer said with obvious annoyance.

I flushed. He had mistaken my relaxation for impudence. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t laughing at you, I was just happy that none of those items are difficult.” I told him who would provide those services. “Just give me the forms and it will be done.”

“The birth certificates have to be certified originals.”

“I can take care of those,” Iris Quinones said to be helpful. “Gay can handle the rest if she is willing.”

“Then it is settled,” Nancy said and recapped everyone’s responsibilities.

Without another word, Dolly and Scott left the room.

In the parking lot, Nancy was furious. “See what I mean? They want to sabotage this adoption. And I don’t like the way they were condescending to you.”

“I didn’t mind.”

“Well, I did! You are a volunteer and deserve to be treated with respect and gratitude for everything you have already done. I’m going to call Scott tomorrow and demand an apology to you.”

“I guess they were fairly hostile, but it seems absurd to me. We’re taking three kids out of the system. We’ve found the placement for both foster care and adoption. We have private funds for the medical and psychological. I’m doing most of the work for free. What’s the big problem?”

“It wasn’t their idea. It’s not their adoptive home. It’s not being done in the right order or by their rules.”

“Surely they wouldn’t deny these girls a home because of that, would they?”

Nancy didn’t reply at first. Then she looked at me with fire in her eyes. “Not if I can help it.”

The case of the three birth certificates classically illustrates the bureaucratic web that ensnares children. Getting certified original copies was the one job Iris Quinones had agreed to undertake.

Two weeks later, she called me. “Can’t get them. They will only give them to a natural parent or guardian.”

“Aren’t the Colbys dependent children under HRS and isn’t the health department, which issues the certificates, an HRS agency?”

“Yes, but the clerk said I’d have to fill out the forms and apply through Tallahassee. That will take six months.”

“That’s ridiculous. Why don’t you ask their mother to do it?”

“She hasn’t returned my phone calls, but as her guardian you could get them.”

“I’m not the legal guardian of the child, the state is.”

“The clerk said they’d give it to the Guardian ad Litem.”

Exasperated, I got into my car and drove twenty-two miles to the health department, where I presented my court orders, showed my identification card, my driver’s license, and copies of the children’s birth certificates.

“One of the children was not born in this county. That requires an eleven-dollar fee,” the clerk said. I took out my checkbook. “Cash.” I handed her a ten and a single bill. “It’s ten dollars for each of the other ones.”

I gave her twenty more dollars, leaving myself only change in my wallet, and demanded a receipt. Then I drove two miles to the HRS headquarters and asked for Iris Quinones. After thirty minutes, she still had not appeared. Finally I had to leave. I asked the receptionist to make copies of the birth certificates and my receipt. I impressed upon her the value of these documents and she promised to deliver them to Ms. Quinones at once.

Two weeks later Myra Garland still did not have the birth certificates. Later I had learned they had traveled from Iris’s desk to the county attorney, then on to Lauren Lorenzo, Dolly Lemoine, then Scott Keefer, before landing on Myra’s desk. She had decided to have Calvin Reynolds manage the legal proceedings locally, but we had to wait for the certificates to make their way back to his office, which took six weeks.

If I had not “interfered” with this process, it could easily have taken six months, or longer, for this tiny step to have been made. Instead of being annoyed by this, however, it energized me. Everything was falling into place. School was ending and the Slaters were about to become licensed foster parents. Soon the children would be reunited under one roof with people who wanted them to stay forever.

The rest was nonsense.

I could handle nonsense.

A few days before Mother’s Day, Nicole called me and asked, “Which one should I send cards to?”

“You have two mothers, why not send them both cards. It would make each one of them happy.”

“What about Fay Lamb? She was also my mother this year.”

“Sure, her too.”

All three women made a point to tell me they had received “special” cards from Nicole. The other girls also gave cards to both Jeanne and their mother. At church Jeanne was called to the front of the congregation to receive the Mother-of-the-Year award. Her picture was taken surrounded by Julie, Nicole, Simone, Zane, and Jared.

When Father’s Day rolled around, Julie asked her father to lunch and I took the sisters to McDonald’s. Buddy Colby bought us Big Macs. I gave him a stack of photographs of the girls and we talked about how well things were going in the Slater home and the fact that they would officially become foster parents in a few weeks. We kept the conversation centered around the financial benefits of foster care and adoption, but I said that nothing would stop him from opening bank accounts in the children’s names for their future. At this, Mr. Colby changed the subject.

At the end of the meal, Buddy said, “I know you want me to give up my rights to these girls, but I think it’s one of Lottie’s tricks to get me out of the picture.”

“That’s not the case,” I said, “but I understand your concerns. What would make you more secure?”