Phoenix police said officers
arrested one of the men who was involved in the kidnapping, torture and sexual
assault of an 18-year-old Phoenix woman on Tuesday.
Police said the woman was brought to
25-year-old Johnnel Henry Thomas’ apartment near 27th and Northern avenues by
another woman. The victim told investigators that Thomas and the other woman
beat her with hammers, pressed hot knives/swords against her skin, poured
bleach on her skin, and made her drink bleach, according to court records.
The woman told investigators Thomas
sexually assaulted her. Police said the woman believed Thomas wanted her to
sell drugs for him, according to a police report.
Neighbors heard the victim’s screams
for help and called the police, according to officials.
Police say neighbors saw Thomas walk
out of his front door naked and that he was still naked when he ran out the
back door after police arrived, according to court records.
Officers said the 18-year-old woman
had a belt around her neck when police arrived. She also had a broken arm,
smashed hand, burns from bleach, bruises all over her body from hammer blows,
and multiple burns from having a hot knife/sword pressed against her.
The woman was hospitalized and
received treatment for her broken arm and other injuries, police said.
Investigators found two hammers, an
empty bleach bottle, multiple knives and a sword during an initial search of
the apartment, according to court records.
Police said Thomas was located at
2:40 a.m. Tuesday in a stolen car near Northern Avenue and Interstate 17.
Thomas told police after his arrest that he had sex with the 18-year-old woman.
He told officers that another person abused the woman.
Thomas was arrested on suspicion of
a series of felonies, including sexual assault, aggravated assault and
kidnapping. He was being held without bond and is scheduled to appear in court
on June 30, according to court records.
This past weekend, my parents went to visit Boo out of state for Boo’s seventeenth birthday. I could not go. I did not want to go. I knew that something bad was going to happen by the way that she has been talking to them on the phone leading up to their wasted and painful trip…I don’t want to be used anymore by people, not even my only child.
“You guys need to buy me a nice little dress that I can wear; not something too dressy, something I can get dirty in…” is what she had declared over the line just a few days prior to their departure flight at the airport to see her. I told them as soon as that phone call ended that if they bought her a dress that she can get “dirty in”, she would bail out on them and run away to be pimped out by some disgusting grown man, as she always does when given the slightest opportunity.
YES, my child is teenaged prostitute by choice. YES, she does things that scream loudly how miserable she feels about herself, she displays the worst type of PTSD: the kind that continuously undoes any “progress” she’s able to forge in her own “recovery”. YES – my only child is a train wreck…and it breaks my heart too much to bear most times, but I know that she is nowhere near ready to begin to heal; therefore, I have chosen to keep my distance from her so as not to antagonize our already crumbling “relationship” to one another.
Point in case:
When my parents arrived and picked Boo up from the locked facility in which she has been court-ordered to reside indefinitely past her eighteenth birthday because of worsening mental health issues, Boo seemed to be happy to see them and they picked her up without incident and continued on to their hotel room. It was Friday night, my mother and step father had been traveling all day and were exhausted of course.
Within an hour, Boo was itching to go to Wal-Mart because she claimed to need some toiletries for a shower etc. My step father (who has been Boo’s ONLY consistent male presence throughout her lifetime, might I add bitterly) finally broke down and agreed to take her there, against his own better judgment of course. She bolted from him in the parking lot and ran straight into a mini-van full of strange, grown men on the expressway. My stepdad, needless to say, diligently chased the vehicle in his rental car for several miles.
During this time, Boo apparently had told the men in the van that she didn’t know my step dad and that he had been chasing her with a gun and trying to kill her. The men, who had no clue what was going on, were concerned for her safety and pulled over to the side of the road, where all six of them got out and waited for my step father to pull in before proceeding to beat him senseless. Boo watched the whole thing happen from inside the van, too.
He is lucky he wasn’t beaten to death…my heart feels so torn by this latest piece of unbelievable heinousness put forth by my own flesh and blood…
Her own grandfather, someone who’s been her staunchest ally and always had her back, even when her grandmother and I had given up on her and said it was no use to keep hurting ourselves by trusting her or believing her, he has stood by her and not wavered. It breaks my heart what he has had to go through this past week, recovering from a violent attack on his already degenerating body. It makes my blood boil to know that she sat there and watched him be beaten almost to death, based on a lie that she told in order to serve her own warped needs and desires…
I can’t apologize enough to my stepfather, it’s hard not to look him in his eye now, with every word that I speak to him…I feel so deeply bad and regretful whenever I look at his swollen and disfigured face – hoping to see a glint of anger or betrayal or realization when it comes to Boo and what he has just endured…
Yesterday, he burst into tears – full blown grown man tears – and says, “I just wish I could protect her…”
In 2012, nearly four entire years after Boo had been sexually victimized by an adult sub-contracted county employee at the residential “treatment” facility where the courts had ordered her to reside, another child at the same facility came forward with allegations so similar to Boo’s, that the “professionals” in charge of monitoring those in close contact with the Juvenile Wards in that facility were forced to finally take it seriously. This time, the nine-year-old victim had been under the predator’s consistent “care” for the essentially the entireduration of time that filled up te period of time between Boo’s allegations against the scumbag and her own – four long years (which means he had been preying on her since she was approximately five years old).
This girl’s story was so eerily consistent with details from Boo’s accusations from years prior – from a time before the second victim had even been court-ordered to the facility yet – rendering any collective conspiracy theory between the two girls as obsolete. Boo and victim #2 never met. Boo had already been shamed and exiled from the facility before victim #2 arrived.
For me, the first thing that stabs unfailingly at the backs of my eyeballs upon adding up these variables: is undoubtedly a sense of absolute disgust… most notably because every single one of the victims behind the very first one (Boo) was TOTALLY avoidable and DID NOT HAVE TO HAPPEN. We all know too well, the ways in which childhood sexual trauma can change the course of one’s life forever – creating darkness that casts it’s shade across every existing space and time for the Survivor; we all know how this crucial pivoting point in the collective story of abuse and recovery has the power to steer the rest of the victim’s life in one direction or another, solely based on the initial reaction and response.
Had Child Protection Services, the Police, and/or the Courts actually handled the “investigation” in a more appropriate manner when Boo spoke up in 2009, forensics would have likely put the animal behind bars back then – BEFORE HE WAS ABLE TO ASSAULT AND PREY ON ANYONE ELSE!
Had the Department of Family and Children’s Services acted appropriately during such a traumatic and life-altering instance for Boo, i.e. given her any kind of treatment for sexual abuse/trauma as is consistent with widely acknowledged psychiatric and medical care, done a “rape kit” for collection of forensic evidence immediately upon the allegations being stated openly (this NEVER happened at all), offered support in the forms of psychiatric and emotional follow-up treatment as is consistent with widely practiced sexual assault treatment globally, Boo’s chances of recovering from such a horrid experience would have naturally been much better in the long run. As it was, Boo was not only discredited and discounted by officials in control; she was also ridiculed and punished for bringing a pedophile to the attention of the courts that employed him.
A disgustingly lengthy list of other victims was enabled to grow during the time frame between when Boo (Janey Doe AKA Victim #1) was silenced sent away, and the time when “Janet Doe AKA Victim # 11” came forward with a story almost identical to that of my daughter’s – from almost a half-decade earlier. I don’t need to emphasize the fact that every single victim on that list after Boo was essentially assaulted by the Department of Family & Children’s Services and juvenile courts – given that these entities had been made fully aware of the Pedophile on the county payroll, but had chosen to ignore such knowledge and continued to employee the sexual predator.
Around the time “Janet Doe” came forward, and the Pedophile was finally arrested and taken into custody, preceding a slew of official questioning and arraignments, I was successful in retaining a high-profile lawyer who specializes in child sex crimes. He had literally just buttoned up a case in which he had publicly exposed an entire string of U.S. Olympic Swim Team coaches for sexual crimes against Olympian child swimmers that went on for decades back through history. He assured me that he could help despite the legal bindings tied around my life through the disposition relating to Boo’s status as a “ward of the court”; and quickly set to work in doing so. Unfortunately, and for reasons still very vague and unclear to me (because the laws that define juvenile courts nationwide – are unintelligible – even to those who write them), he and I quickly realized that the pending lawsuit was to be unjustly short-lived because of this very element.
I was not allowed to go after the county Department of Family & Children’s Services for the absolute negligence and cruelty that this agency displayed throughout such a heinous ordeal – one that was cultivated and enabled by the Department’s very own procedural outline. Technically, I was not allowed to go after anyone at all from a legal standpoint: I was not Boo’s legal guardian any longer by that time, despite my continued iron-clad grip on what are described as my lingering “parental rights” in this courtroom (a concept that is painfully hilarious in hindsight, as such “rights” never exist at all in this pit of legal Hell). The next road-block of Boo’s justice appeared then: in the form of legal constraints set forth by the code that determined Boo as “UN-representable” in the eyes of the Superior Court. She had been deemed a Ward of the Court, wiping away any legal standing I formerly held in regard to my ability to protect her situations such as the one we were glued into. In such circumstances, there is no one at all in a role to seek justice for the child victim – when the child victim has been victimized by one the county’s own. STAND STILL.
After several months of legal research and regular daily complaints to varying county officials about the total injustice being done to Boo right under everyone’s noses, some reference files I had assembled from another county’s online procedural handbook (as my county conveniently provides no such documents for public use) finally broke through and Boo was assigned a Guardian Ad Litem through the juvenile courts. This was something that it turned out – should have been done from the beginning of the lawsuit, but such information was never outlined or defined by the juvenile court judge who allowed the lawsuit to begin (certainly not an omission by mistake, as the result was another lengthy thwart to Boo’s very justice). Months had passed by during the waiting and judicial red tape; the DA had been building what he describes as an “airtight” case in criminal court at the same time that my private lawyer was jumping through lawsuit hoops as well.
In the end, here’s what I know to have happened for sure:
In the end, Boo’s GAL (Guardian Ad Litem) (assigned by the same courthouse that was responsible for denying justice a child victim of sexual assault thus far) filed a suit against the residential facility organization in which Boo resided when she was groomed and preyed upon by a grown man on its staff – a sub-contracted agency that can be legally disconnected from the Department of Family & Children’s Services in regard to any liability. After this step in the process, I was blocked completely out of the entire thing from that point on, and, in fact – was intentionally avoided and legally restrained from any future information of the lawsuit’s outcome as well. Over a year passed by without any word from anyone, including the attorney I had hired who was now working with the GAL only – on Boo’s behalf.
He refunded my retainer, asked me not to contact him any longer about Boo’s pending case, and never contacted me again – except for one time, about one more year down the road: when he emailed me and said that the case “had settled” and he thought I might want to look into a private treatment option for Boo that was closer to home “because she should no doubt be able to afford any treatment facility of her choosing from now on…” When I replied to ask him if he could elaborate any further – In order for me to have a fucking leg to stand on in following his suggestions regarding a transfer for Boo to somewhere that might actually help her somehow – somewhere she wouldn’t be looked at as “the enemy” by people under the same umbrella as the man who violated her at age 13…?He said he could not give me any more information, and that I could not contact the GAL directly either, of course (That would be too easy and make far too much sense in the big picture of Boo’s justice, after all). The whole circus came to yet – another STAND STILL.
As of now, two years AFTER the lawsuit settled on some mysterious ground – agreed to by mysterious and elusive representatives of people who are mysteriously kept in the dark against all rhyme or reason – Boo has no knowledge or information regarding this supposed “settlement sum” that theoretically could have afforded her countless comforts, including the basics of support and acknowledgment of the tragedy that she has endured at the hands of a child molester and his professional posse. I am not even sure that a lawsuit took place at all. I have no way of finding out because I have been black-balled in the files, if they exist and am repeatedly shut out by any door on which I knock for answers. I have no legal standing, despite the full awareness on everyone’s part that I am the ONLY PERSON WHO ACTUALLY GIVES A SHIT ABOUT BOO. They all know exactly what’s been going on behind the curtain, and behave as if it’s acceptable – on even the most fundamental levels of humanity – by enabling the sickeningly broken system to keep me from seeking justice for Boo. Justice is intrinsically warranted when it comes to children, everyone knows that, naturally –children are innocent; even children who are troubled and struggle with authority and who have behavioral issues are innocent to the ways of the world as they are young and inexperienced – unable to properly fend for themselves. That is why nature is sure to give the young a set of parents to watch over them. Often, children are faced with life under the watchfulness of a single parent, but nature always gives an innocent young creature a guardian to protect them until they are grown enough to be solo.
The processes of this court are unnatural. The lack of safeguards to the fundamental rights that define parenthood is preposterous and absurd.
The laws that define its code go against the very essence of natural intuition and any common good. The procedural format of this failed vision of child protection creates an arena in which the single, although loving and very capable parent of a high-maintenance and behaviorally challenged child – is systematically put on trial before a “judge” and the entire county Department of Family and Children’s Services with no legal support or guidance (despite an entire section of funding being spent annually on the so-called “court-appointed attorneys that are “provided” but who serve no purpose other than standing around and looking stressed beyond the point of being able to answer your questions), beaten down psychologically, mentally, financially, and spiritually – and being thrown to the wolves as her child is whisked away to another state. The actual outcome of this court’s interloping is sheer demolition to countless lives without a second thought about it. What the process has done in my own case and that of Boo has been to take her away from a worthy mother and replaced that worthy mother with the sickeningly inadequate surrogate of the “court” for guardianship and supervision and daily interaction. Why would anyone with half a brain cell have ever really believed that such a process would serve an already struggling child well? You’re telling me that the lawmakers and politicians who call the shots behind the laws that govern Boo and I’s personal dynamics aren’t more knowledgeable regarding the fucking things that they are passing laws on? Really?
While, in reality, any parent or guardian who responded to his/her child’s allegations of sexual assault in any way remotely similar to the ways in which the Department and the courts have responded to the allegations made by a “legal ward under its care supervision”, would be put in jail for accessory to such filth and exploitation. Also notable, is the court and social services’ long history of persecuting a parent based solely on a past accusation – validated or not; tell me why then, was it “acceptable” for a man who had been accused of sexual assault against a minor ward of the court to continuing working with kids for years afterward…who’s really the perpetrator here? Any mother who knowingly stood by and allowed numerous kids to be violated would be undoubtedly strung up from a tree and lynched publicly. Similarly, any parent who allowed their teenager to repeatedly go missing for months on end without actively searching for her would be considered as disinterested and uncaring, then possibly charged with neglect. But since the system is so obscure and confusing and hopeless, it’s perfectly okay AND legal for it to execute such traumatizing and despicable acts in its role as a child’s replacement guardian. There is no one to stop the courts from continuing the bullshit facade of “juvenile justice and child protection”; and unsurprisingly, this corner of the Superior Court is completely closed off to the media due to the “privacy laws that protect the information belonging to minors involved”. Whose got the bloodiest hands?
Song: Dear Mama
Lyrics: “I know I can always depend on my Mama…”
Hey, first off Happy Birthday you turned 35. I hope its okay. I’ll be 17 in 41 days!
I know you’re super angry with me so I’m not even gonna talk to you about my experience out there last time…but I want to let you know. You know me, I’m not gonna say sorry because I’ve said sorry so many times and I never got better. If anything, I got worse. I want you to know though Mom it’s not your fault and it is all on me. I want you to know I’m sorry for acting a fool and not doing anything I’m supposed to. I’m addicted to that life-style…
I want you to know I miss you a lot, I miss talking to you. I miss you a lot. I’ve never gone this long without talking to you. I’m sorry I am such a mess. If you wanna call me, you know where I am.
Oh obviously you know my Dad died. Sad. Sad. Sad.
One thing that I have always found to be highly annoying and socially antagonistic for those of us who struggle to make the simplest of ends meet – is the fact that community-based programs for children with behavioral issues are so out of reach to the targeted population who need them most.
My daughter had been displaying severe and notably precocious behaviors for more than three years before I was finally able to push my way through the proverbial red tape and connect both of us with the government equivalent of “treatment” resources; and then, upon finally being given the necessary “referrals” to track down such elusive “treatment”, I was very disappointed to learn that it consisted of little actual treatment to speak of. The available resources were mostly programs and that I had already tried without success.
The “Treatment Plan” provided through the resources made available to me after YEARS of searching was nothing more than a hodge-podge of various interns who needed the hours spent on my family’s problems in order to receive a degree:
1. A non-English speaking psychiatrist who saw my child once a month for a half-hour session, strictly for the purpose of prescribing the ever-changing array of cutting-edge psychiatric medications to my then six-year-old child.
2. A weekly support group for each of us in which we could separately share our experiences with peers in “similar situations”, and receive feedback and support (This was the BEST part of any services I’ve received thus far).
3. The installment of a “Wrap-Around Team” as a family maintenance tool; this was a cocktail of several community programs that involved having one or two social-work apprentices coming into our home at least three days weekly, for approximately four to five hours each time.
NOTE: The “wrap-around” team provided during this time consisted of the following revolving appearances by five different people; two of whom we had been assigned to upon beginning services through Eastfield Ming Quong, Families First AKA EMQ and/or EMQFF – the same entity as the residential treatment facility in which Boo was later sexually assaulted by a staff person.
As I proceeded to envelope myself within the realm of mental health advocacy for my only child, who struggled quite obviously with self-control and impulsivity issues, I found the process for special education and the acceptance of an I.E.P. (Individualized Education Plan) to be exceptionally daunting and near impossible to navigate.
The task of getting an Individualized Education Plan accepted and assigned swallowed up an entire year of time during my girl’s fourth grade school year. I am an intelligent human being who is well-spoken, written, and read; with prime communication skills and am very capable – and I was shocked at the realization that it is likely that parents of average or less-than-average intelligence would be completely unable to make his or her way through such a diabolical and detail-born administrative routine – to the detriment of his or her struggling child.
After the two entire school-year calendars that it cost out of my child’s once promising educational career, she was finally deemed eligible for the services of an I.E.P. by the middle school administration when she was eleven years old. By that time, her behavior and basic traits had developed into a calculating, manipulative, and unreliable adolescent.
Her behaviors at school were continuing to escalate to dramatic levels on a steady basis. The constant shame and embarrassment began to take over my own life, as well; in response to the unnecessary and excessive lying she did to her teachers and counselors about me and our home lifestyle. The tall tales and dramatically exaggerated dialogue became a regular hobby for her – because of the instantly gratifying reactions that she unfailingly received from telling them. Often times, the school officials would summon me to the school for emergency meetings and conferences because she had said some off-the-wall things again that were simply just too bad for them to ignore – the way that I like to believe they would of done if her crazy stories had held any truth.
It’s very difficult to try and describe to another human being – the spiritual and psychological tolls that become taken on the parent of any child who is similar to mine. As the survivor of a near-fatal marriage, the only thing that comes close to the circumstantial chaos of a battered woman’s mind state, in my experience, would undoubtedly be that of a diabolical, unruly and explosive child. Take that factor and add to it the fact that I am a single, low-income, rehabilitated heroin addict-mother who works full-time to try and get myself and child by from day to day – and the outcome of our story seems undoubtedly clear, in hindsight.
Of course, life usually goes that way for me if I’m going to be honest with myself…and that is surely part of the reason that I have become so frustrated and impatient with the entire world around me – because I can’t help but to harbor awareness, no matter how distant and vague it may be, that when all is said and done and I am burying my only child, I’ll look back on this all and be able to see the creases and wrinkles of the unfolding tragedy.
I vividly recall the day that I received a call at the tax firm where I work from my daughter’s sixth grade core teacher; he asked me permission to be frank – which I promptly granted him with my heart in my throat – before he sympathetically spoke again over the line.
“Listen Ms. X, I don’t know what you do for a living…it’s none of mine or anybody else’s concern or business, really…” his words came nervously yet his voice remained calm and his tone quite matter-of-factly. “…but Boo seems to have the compelling need to share things with class – along with the parent-aids who may happen to be there on a given day – that you are a stripper –“ he cleared his throat quickly twice; “…an erotic dancer or what not…” Silence on the line. “…whether you are or you aren’t a dancer, Ms. X, I just feel like you should be made aware of the talk on the playground these days; forgive me if I am out of line or inappropriate for calling – believe me, it’s quite embarrassing from this end to discuss with you –“, his voice trailed off to almost a whisper, “…keeping the lines of communication open, as you requested, that’s all…”.
Now, when it comes to psychological warfare, my daughter’s arsenal has been stacked like a WWII bunker since the approximate time she was old enough to begin to grasp such profoundly baffling concepts. Her disturbingly keen ability to manipulate both her own relationships, and the relationships between others became apparent and undeniable when she entered school. Seeing her interact with her peers in a consistently conniving manner also alarmed me deeply; her overbearing bossiness and passive-aggressive behavior began to etch quite the chameleon into her fundamental traits – those that would be with her all of her life; those that make her who she is.
A blatantly dangerous impulsivity began to surge through her veins, all of the time – day and night; being the root cause of the evil that her choices started leave her holding in her lap. Her self-absorbed nature began to define the proverbial spoiled brat without consequence; the enabled, obnoxious and snot-nosed Shit from next door. Adults and children alike avoided interaction with her; they grew wary of her constant stream of shocking and destructive actions. Accountability or anything remotely similar to it is an issue that continues to stand, untouched and unacknowledged by her to this very day. My daughter seems to have always been unable to pay consequences for her own decisions and the effect that her choices might have on those around her.
The DFCS, as the legally bound entity charged with her “care”, has inarguably enabled this characteristic in my daughter’s perpetual self-denial; and has done so to a sickening degree.
The County Department of Family & Children’s Services entered the picture when Boo was almost out of sixth grade, upon her second release from John Muir Children’s Psychiatric Hospital within two weeks’ time. She had returned the second time for physically attacking my mother during one of her regular tantrums for not getting her way about something; only this time, she followed up by opting to kick her grandma in a healing surgical wound only several days post-op. I was at my wit’s second end by that point, and had exhausted any and all of the public resources available in the area of trying to find a working solution to the out-of-control behaviors of my child. My options ran out and I was forced, through the pits of desperation, to involve social services – as much for my own sake as for my daughter’s by that point in time.
I remember having days in which I would feel something very close to disdain for my only child because of her embarrassing, encompassing and incorrigible ways; I had many days spent thinking about how much better things may have been had I not given birth to this extremely defiant, highly unlikeable little creature and shit away so many thankless years in trying to correct her incredibly incorrect behaviors.
Life as a mother, for me – was pretty much a constant three-ring circus in Hell’s ghetto during the summertime: nowhere to cool off and wild, angry animals trying to bite your face off with every turn.
Once she had been court-ordered to residential “treatment” by the local juvenile court system, I actually felt like there was some substantial hope of a better future relationship between the two of us. Unfortunately, the way in which the courts are designed is severely flawed and perverse in its ability to safeguard parents such as myself: parents who were not the underlying purpose for the court’s involvement with the family.
This was where things first part of our case went awry, as a result of the incompetence associated with the shadiness of state and local child protection laws. I was unknowingly labeled incorrectly way back then, by those involved with the course of me and my child’s future, and never given a second thought after that point in regard such a mislabeling of my character and priorities.
The next piece of this tragedy is one of the MOST UNBELIEVABLE aspects to the entire nightmare; it is the point in which everything slipped from my control permanently; the point in which I lost Boo forever – I was still too fucking blind to realize it.
I remember after taking her to the facility (I had already been arrested for not returning her when I said I would and been held in contempt of court orders etc.) and making certain that the pedophile would not be on shift, going to my parents’ house and unloading my fears and giving them a recap of the conversation with Boo.
Within an hour, I was sitting at my laptop, writing an email to the facility’s supervisor, director, clinical director, house manager, therapist and Boo’s case worker – describing the conversation and its details in full. I closed this email with the demand that: 1) the individual in question be separated from Boo totally until further notice, and 2) that my concerns were immediately addressed.
RED FLAG #1:
I heard nothing for 2 days; and when I did finally hear from my daughter’s therapist from the facility, it was to be informed of the sexual assault that had occurred the day before. (The sexual assault against my then 13 year old daughter, one executed by the VERY SAME MAN that I had sent warning about only 2 days prior.) The incident had taken place in between the time that I had emailed the warning and the time that I received a response, in the form of a “formal investigation” that was quickly deemed “unfounded” and dropped.
Boo had, like many, many child victims of sexual assault end up doing during the investigatory stage, recanted her initial allegation – she suddenly claimed that the person with whom she had sexual intercourse with over the previous weekend – had been a boy from school that she had supposedly snuck into the facility through her window; a story that I NEVER believed for a nano-second. My feeling has always been founded solidly that she was trying to protect him from being in trouble; and that she immediately experienced and saw the way in which the few people she had confided the truth in had reacted to her allegation of a grown-ass male employee having sex with a thirteen year old child “client” on grounds – and was essentially intimidated into changing her story (she now claims that this was an accurate assertion on my part).
RED FLAG #2:
EVERY SINGLE “professional” involved with my kid’s so-called “treatment” and “rehabilitation” was perfectly okay with accepting Boo’s sudden change of stories, without question or a second thought towards further investigation of what had the potential (and sadly, ending up becoming) a huge breach of the children’s safety – Boo was “Janey Doe AKA Victim #1 of 17, years later, in court documents that came way too late.
Secondly, the facility (nor a single one of its handfuls of legally mandated child abuse reporters) didn’t find it necessary to involve the local police, and wanted to handle things “internally” along with the concurrently running CPS “investigation”. The police would not have been brought into the scenario AT ALL, had Boo’s school principle (who was incoincidentally already a stationary figure in Boo’s middle school career) not taken his own role as a mandated reporter seriously, and reported my report to him – “out of legal liability to do so”.
RED FLAG #3:
Location! Location! Location!
Upon the allegation being made and the police finally being dragged into involvement, Boo was consequently asked to leave the facility within seven days of police involvement. Her social worker claimed that there wasn’t time to find a “placement” that was legally in-line with the court’s order regarding her specific treatments needs and goals – that the only option we had was to send Boo four hours north from home. Once again, the case DFCS omitted details as serious and life-changing as sexual assault and harassment against the very child it was claiming to protect and rehabilitate. Again, I had to get myself arrested in order to be heard by anybody who had any power (the judge). Unsurprisingly, the judge claimed no knowledge of the events unfolding outside the courtroom, despite the fact that she is technically my kid’s legal guardian while Boo’s on her caseload.