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November 30, 2009

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Child protective services often forced into no-win situations

Monday, Dec. 1, 1997 | 10:38 a.m.

A cartoon making the rounds at Clark County Family & Youth Services depicts an angry mob lynching someone from a tree.

There are two separate captions: "CPS (child protective services) worker who leaves abused child with family," and "CPS worker who takes child from family."

The captions mirror the agency's split personality. Its compassionate side attempts to reunify troubled families. Its overbearing side takes away children in response to abuse or neglect complaints.

Frequently it's a no-win situation for the agency, especially when children are beaten or killed by their parents. Child welfare agencies or the police then are blamed for dropping the ball. On the flip side are parents who liken child protective services to the Gestapo.

"It's sometimes a question of over-reaction," agency Director Kirby Burgess says of critics. "We recognize once a child dies it's tragic for the community. The communication among (child welfare) agencies is good but it can get better. We should certainly share more information and communicate more often with each other."

Family & Youth Services' budget this fiscal year is $5.9 million. But like its counterpart, the Nevada Division of Child and Family Services, the county agency is vastly understaffed compared to national standards. Its Child Haven shelter at 701 N. Pecos Road also is severely overcrowded.

Then there's the issue of image.

In light of its confrontational family intervention role, the agency is attempting a makeover that is part of a national trend. It's urging others in government to get involved in child welfare issues so that the agency can concentrate its already-stretched resources on more acute child protective needs.

"When we show up at your door your heart rate goes up," says Adrienne Cox, assistant director of Family & Youth Services. "Maybe the more appropriate response should come from public health. The first response could be someone less intrusive. That way, we can begin with an offer of services."

That was one intent of Assembly Bill 356 that was signed into law this year. Cox says the county health department should get more involved in cleaning up filthy homes to free up caseworkers from those types of child neglect complaints.

She also thinks schools should shoulder more responsibility for absenteeism.

"Some principals assume educational neglect is a child protective service function," Cox says.

If other agencies help out, she reasons, her caseworkers wouldn't be overloaded.

"We know we can't be the only organization that keeps kids safe," adds Carol Stillian, a Family & Youth Services manager. "Other agencies must step up to the plate with prevention services before abuse occurs."

National standards recommend child protective caseworkers handle only 12 new cases a month. Up to this year, county workers were handling 20 to 30 new cases a month. An increase of seven investigators to 39 this fall is expected to bring the ratio down to about 16 new cases a month per worker, but that's still 33 percent higher than the recommended standard.

"Ideally I'd like to get to the national average," Burgess says. "But given all the needs in the county, the (county) commission has gone the extra mile to help us out. I can tell you they are very passionate about taking care of children in this county."

The pressure on caseworkers is bound to increase because another aspect of AB356 requires that they evaluate all abuse or neglect complaints within three days, including weekends, instead of three working days.

Though there have been no reported attacks on local investigators in recent years, there are dangers to the job. Caseworkers sometimes go to homes with scant information and have no idea who will be inside. Often they go in pairs.

It's common practice on first visits for a caseworker to knock on the front door and stand to the side, much like police do when they don't know what to expect.

"If my stomach is not churning, I am too stupid to do the job," Cox says. "When I answer that I'm from child protective services, you can imagine the plethora of responses on the other end. My role is to help you, but your response may be that you've got something to hide."

Critics say caseworkers are ill-trained to interview children. Cox disagrees. Investigators have a minimum of a bachelor's degree, usually related to social services, and two years of outside experience.

She says the forensic training, part of the 80 hours of initial instruction caseworkers must complete, is better now than when she did that job. The investigator tries to find out all he can about the family, including drug use, employment, baby sitters and relatives.

"I would say my people aren't trying to get information from children that isn't there," she says. "If I'm trying to find out about injuries to a child, I have to ask questions.

"You can't be so vague and broad that nothing is going on here. I haven't found any evidence that my workers are trying to hang parents by getting at information that is erroneous."

Metro Police respond to child abuse and neglect complaints through visits to hospitals and calls to 911. The vast majority of complaints are picked up on the county's child protective services hotline at 399-0081.

Hotline supervisor Ann Rubin says her staff gets about 3,000 calls a month; 600 to 700 are turned over to county investigators. Of those, more than half cannot be substantiated. Many of the remaining calls are referred to other services.

As other areas of the system, Rubin can use more staff. The public sometimes complains that it's hard to get through to the hotline.

"In the past there were reports investigated that we don't investigate now, but that's because there is better screening and less-intrusive services that have been developed," Rubin says. "Just because a call isn't substantiated doesn't mean abuse isn't occurring."

One of the biggest complaints parents have with the system is that it relies heavily on anonymous callers. Child welfare agencies for years have told the public that it's better to report neglect and abuse than to remain silent. Yet some of these tipsters are ex-spouses or neighbors who have an unrelated beef with the family.

Some suggest the county needs to be more aggressive at prosecuting individuals for harassment if they constantly make false claims. But Stillian says the district attorney's office, burdened with its own heavy workload, hasn't placed a high priority on such prosecutions.

The vast majority of complaints, however, come from professionals who are mandated by law to report child abuse or neglect. The greatest number come from schools.

Some teachers are frustrated because they're often not told the outcome of a county investigation. That's because caseworkers are bound by privacy laws.

"If it's a sexual abuse case, we don't want to share the outcome of the case with nonrelatives," Stillian says. "It's none of their business. We are trying to share more information with teachers, but we don't need to tell them intimate details.

"They'll know if we had to remove the kids if they're not in school. Sometimes, if they see the kid back in school, they get frustrated and call us again."

Peggy Rowe, a senior child protective services specialist, says "teachers don't know the barriers to certain (child protective) steps."

Because of privacy laws to protect the children, the agency is often put in a tough spot.

"A lot of people complain to child protective services, 'you didn't do anything for the kid,'" Rubin says. "The Catch-22 is we can't tell them (by law) what we did."

Because of heavy caseloads, caseworkers don't have time to give progress reports to those who made the initial abuse/neglect complaint, especially if they're not part of the family.

"I don't think there is one person at child protective services who doesn't say they are overburdened," Rowe says. "But I don't know if anyone would say a safety assessment has been affected by the overload."

Unless the child is in imminent danger, he usually is not removed from the home at first. Trying to keep children at home while offering services to the parents is the reason most cases don't reach Family Court.

Rowe's supervisor, Mary Heine, says many people don't realize how difficult it is on children when they're removed from the home. Many are traumatized, which is one reason they bounce from one foster home to another.

"A lot of people feel that when they make a complaint, (removal) should be the logical option, and a lot of times it's not," Rowe says.

Heine says a caseworker must make 50 to 100 "major decisions" a day affecting children under her supervision.

Adds Rowe: "When you're new at this, you look at things in black and white. The longer you do this the more gray areas you see. The longer I see things the more important it is to keep children in the home if you can do it safely."

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