I’m still trying to process what has happened over the last two days, and I’m still sort of numb. I’m getting angrier as time goes by, but I definitely feel numb.
Two days ago, I called our social worker in order to get the phone number for the guardian ad litem (GAL). She gave me legal aid’s phone number and instructed me to call them. I did and was able to get the phone number of our foster daughter’s GAL. I called the number listed, but his name wasn’t on the answering machine. The attorney for our foster daughter’s dad was, however. I left a message and asked to have someone call me back. Later that afternoon, I still hadn’t heard from anyone, so I called again. This time I spoke with someone. He handed the phone off to another man who gave me the new phone number for the GAL, said he had just moved offices. I thanked him and hung up. Let me interject here that I was concerned at the outset of the case about a conflict of interest, because the father told me – the day he met his attorney – that his attorney (parents have separate attorneys) and the baby’s attorney are good friends and former co-workers. The dad’s attorney told him that it would be no problem communicating between each other since their friends. My red flag alarm went off when I heard this, because it seemed like a conflict of interests. I called the social workers and alerted them, and they said it was just fine and didn’t do anything about it. So, back to Thursday. I left a message for the GAL on his new number. Hours passed and I still hadn’t heard from the GAL, so I tried again. I was finally able to reach him, and what he said stunned me. He said, real sarcastic-like, “Oh, I don’t really think they can proceed with the TPR.” I was like, “WHAT?!?!?” He said, “I think they’ve worked through their parent agency agreement from before.” Stunned, I stammered and insisted on a meeting. He agreed to meet with me an hour before the trial.
A couple of hours later, I heard from the social worker. She was concerned about the mom’s drug screen from a few days ago. Apparently, one had been rejected due to error, and the other came back diluted. According to the social worker, a lot of times that means it has detected narcotics. I personally know that the mom confessed to me she always drinks a ton of water before she goes to a drug drop because it helps clear her system. The social worker was very upset, feeling it detected drugs.
Fast forward to Friday morning. Keep in mind that we had felt confident in the judge’s willingness to accept the TPR; he had expressed his disgust in the case and had no problems TPR’ing. The prosecutor had been prepared to follow-through with the trial. First thing Friday morning, I called the foster care SW and confirmed that everything was still a go for the trial. She said she still hadn’t heard anything contrary. I asked what happens if TPR doesn’t go through; would the dad be required to do domestic violence-specific classes? Yes, she said, she would require DV classes and DV counseling at a shelter facility for the mom. We hung up and I continued to get ready. In the midst of my thoughts, I found a peace, a calm.
The trial was set to begin at 3 pm. We had a meeting with the GAL at 2 pm. At about 11:00 am, the foster care social worker called me on my cell. She said that out of left field, the prosecutor offered a plea to the parents. She said that neither social worker involved in the case from DHS supported this decision; both the CPS and foster care worker (herself) wanted the TPR to proceed. They didn’t feel the parents were prepared to change – it had only been 5 months since they were non-compliant from the last case, after 10 months of treatment. She said she was calling me because she knew I would be upset and she didn’t want to see me get blind-sided at the hearing. I agreed and thanked her profusely for telling me. I was pumping gas and on my way over to get some high heels from one of my best friends. The whole way over I was numb. When I got to her house, I was numb. I just tried processing what was happening.
We left for the trial, and I didn’t know what to think. All I knew was that I was going to meet with the GAL, and I was going to make sure everyone saw J’s picture and remembered her during these proceedings. We arrived at the GAL’s office, and I could tell he was a real piece of work. He pulled out a cigarette and began smoking in the middle of the office without even asking us. He started his conversation by saying, “Well, I haven’t really made up my mind as to what I’m going to recommend. I don’t think they’ve really done anything wrong.” WHAT?!?!?!??! I could hardly keep my jaw up as I stared at this man. I’ve always been one the best debators ever; people hate fighting with me, because I never back down. I take my points and I prove them to the N’th degree. I fight like mad; people generally give up. Something about this man brought out the Mother Warrior in me (to quote Jenny McCarthy). I brought out every gun I could muster and had the most compelling, convincing argument I could gather. No, I wasn’t in it to strictly adopt. Yes, I would be willing to accept RU if and only if they showed obvious signs of change. And I provide documents and pictures. At the end, I stared deep into this man’s eyes – a man who had admitted he has an 11-mos-old at home – and told him this baby’s life was in his hands. This baby deserves a chance at safety. If this baby went home and something happened, it would be because he didn’t stand up for her – he would have to live with that forever. She deserves the chance at safety; she deserves the chance to get a good life. She deserves to never have the bruises her mom had, or to be sexually assaulted like her mom was. As ½ hour came to a close, he said, “All right, all right – it sounds like you’re making my closing arguments. We’d better get to the courthouse.” And I knew: I knew he was convinced.
We got to the courthouse and I had a strong intuition the two people in the elevator with my husband and I were the parent’s attorneys. The way they talked about their clients was horrible; they joked that the dad needed a GAL on his own! Once we arrived to our floor, my husband and I sat down on a bench and the attorneys went back into an open conference area with our GAL and the CPS social worker. The discussion was awful to hear; the parent’s attorneys firmly felt this proceeding was stupid and nothing was founded. CPS was angry because it was obvious they were noncompliant 5 months ago. Our GAL said he wouldn’t recommend unsupervised visitation until DV work had seriously been completed. It became very clear that TPR was NOT going to happen due to the plea on the table.
As we sat on that bench, something told me the woman sitting across from me in a red suit was the prosecutor. I don’t know how, but I knew. I walked up to her and asked if her name was ___. Yes, it was. Was she a prosecutor? Yes, she was. I introduced myself and said I wanted her to see the baby’s pictures, so she could see who the baby she was representing was. She “ooh’d” and “ah’d” and asked how she was doing, but she didn’t care much past that. It was clear, she’d made up her mind. The minutes went by so slow after that. The baby’s grandma, who abused and allowed abuse against her daughter – the mom, showed up and had this fake speech about how the family was so happy with me, blah, blah, blah. I couldn’t help myself; what did I have to lose? I said, “Really? Because that’s not what I just heard yesterday. I heard you guys think I’m only out to adopt this baby no matter what.” She was stunned; I’ve never stood up to her before. She gave me this junk about how she focuses on God, and I should always call her if I have any problems, blah, blah, blah. I do not believe her; she still thinks nothing ever happened when the mom was younger. She’s a coward and a few other expletives.
Time finally collided with the trial, and we were all invited into the court room. We took our respective places and began stating our names and relation to the judge. Right off the bat, the prosecutor spoke of the plea on the table. The two social workers just stared down; you could see the steam rising from their faces. They were so angry. The proceedings continued with that stupid look on those parent’s faces – that “We’ve got it now!” look. I just took notes – I was so numb. At one point, the judge asked how old the baby was. Someone said 3 months, and I couldn’t help myself. I raised my hand and said, “Three months, your honor, and I have pictures if you’d like to see her.” He stopped and looked at me kind of stunned and stammered, “Uh, okay.” I approached his desk (it was in a conference-style room). I handed him the pictures and he agreed that she was really cute. He asked if I had any extras, and I said, “Have ‘em all! Here, you want the envelope, too?” Everyone laughed and he said, “No, I just want one for the file. I really do appreciate pictures.”
The rest of the hearing was insignificant. Except for the parent-agency agreement bit. The judge asked for a PAA, but the prosecutor stated that they weren’t prepared to offer one. The CPS worker stepped up and said that they hadn’t expected this to happen, so they hadn’t prepared a PAA. It would take a little time. She said that they could offer a generic PAA, but given the circumstances, she felt it was more appropriate to have an individualized PAA specific to the case. She said she would feel more comfortable waiting and submitting the specific PAA. The judge agreed and set the next court date for 2 weeks in order to submit the PAA. The hearing adjourned and we all left. As we were walking out of the court room, the GAL stopped us and made sure we understood what had happened. He added a side-note of, “Well, IF they complete their PAA,” with a smirk. He added that a lot of progress would need to happen before she would go unsupervised.
There has been question as to the paternity of this baby. Before the hearing, in the pre-meeting of all the lawyers and workers, there was discussion about a big fight the parents recently had. Apparently they had thrown words at each other and the mom had said how she doesn’t think it’s even his baby. The dad told his lawyer that he wanted to terminate rights immediately at the hearing if it wasn’t even his baby; he didn’t even want her then. All the lawyers were stunned at that – his ability to be so back and forth and insist on TPR if it wasn’t his. Basically, the CPS worker stated how they’re married and our state’s law is that a baby born into marriage is the product of that marriage. Not to mention the father had signed the birth cert and had signed legal paternity paperwork.
I’m numb. I’m hurt. I watched the judge yesterday, and my intuition, which is really strong, is that he was willing to grant the TPR if the prosecutor recommended it. She’s up for re-election in 1.5 months and has been acting really weird lately. She’s been backing out of cases that she used to stand by lately, giving the parents more rights. In the past, she never worked this way. I fear it’s all PR related to the re-election.
My intuition tells me she’s going home. I’ve felt this all along. I’m terrified. They’re not ready to change; they still don’t admit anything is wrong. There’s a lot of lying and denial going on. It is, obviously, my deepest desire that they would actually receive the help they need and take it to heart; that they would change and J can go home to happy, healthy, whole parents. But the truth is soooo much different. The truth is so much more ugly. And I am terrified of the prosecutor now. How can these people sleep at night after seeing this baby’s face and knowing they are giving these people a chance?
I’m in an ugly place today; I’m so angry. I’m mad at God. I’m mad at the prosecutor. I’m mad at the social workers for not saying something to the judge. I’m mad at everyone. I’m terrified of looking at this baby – I’m so terrified she’ll go home and I won’t be allowed to see her ever again. That will be it. And worst of all, I’m terrified something will happen to her once she goes home.
So that is what happened yesterday. This is a long story today, but I needed to get it out. I needed this to process it.
Thank you for your thoughts, prayers, concerns, and words of kindness. I felt peace yesterday as we left; it was good to be able to walk with my head held high even though it wasn't what we wanted.
Two days ago, I called our social worker in order to get the phone number for the guardian ad litem (GAL). She gave me legal aid’s phone number and instructed me to call them. I did and was able to get the phone number of our foster daughter’s GAL. I called the number listed, but his name wasn’t on the answering machine. The attorney for our foster daughter’s dad was, however. I left a message and asked to have someone call me back. Later that afternoon, I still hadn’t heard from anyone, so I called again. This time I spoke with someone. He handed the phone off to another man who gave me the new phone number for the GAL, said he had just moved offices. I thanked him and hung up. Let me interject here that I was concerned at the outset of the case about a conflict of interest, because the father told me – the day he met his attorney – that his attorney (parents have separate attorneys) and the baby’s attorney are good friends and former co-workers. The dad’s attorney told him that it would be no problem communicating between each other since their friends. My red flag alarm went off when I heard this, because it seemed like a conflict of interests. I called the social workers and alerted them, and they said it was just fine and didn’t do anything about it. So, back to Thursday. I left a message for the GAL on his new number. Hours passed and I still hadn’t heard from the GAL, so I tried again. I was finally able to reach him, and what he said stunned me. He said, real sarcastic-like, “Oh, I don’t really think they can proceed with the TPR.” I was like, “WHAT?!?!?” He said, “I think they’ve worked through their parent agency agreement from before.” Stunned, I stammered and insisted on a meeting. He agreed to meet with me an hour before the trial.
A couple of hours later, I heard from the social worker. She was concerned about the mom’s drug screen from a few days ago. Apparently, one had been rejected due to error, and the other came back diluted. According to the social worker, a lot of times that means it has detected narcotics. I personally know that the mom confessed to me she always drinks a ton of water before she goes to a drug drop because it helps clear her system. The social worker was very upset, feeling it detected drugs.
Fast forward to Friday morning. Keep in mind that we had felt confident in the judge’s willingness to accept the TPR; he had expressed his disgust in the case and had no problems TPR’ing. The prosecutor had been prepared to follow-through with the trial. First thing Friday morning, I called the foster care SW and confirmed that everything was still a go for the trial. She said she still hadn’t heard anything contrary. I asked what happens if TPR doesn’t go through; would the dad be required to do domestic violence-specific classes? Yes, she said, she would require DV classes and DV counseling at a shelter facility for the mom. We hung up and I continued to get ready. In the midst of my thoughts, I found a peace, a calm.
The trial was set to begin at 3 pm. We had a meeting with the GAL at 2 pm. At about 11:00 am, the foster care social worker called me on my cell. She said that out of left field, the prosecutor offered a plea to the parents. She said that neither social worker involved in the case from DHS supported this decision; both the CPS and foster care worker (herself) wanted the TPR to proceed. They didn’t feel the parents were prepared to change – it had only been 5 months since they were non-compliant from the last case, after 10 months of treatment. She said she was calling me because she knew I would be upset and she didn’t want to see me get blind-sided at the hearing. I agreed and thanked her profusely for telling me. I was pumping gas and on my way over to get some high heels from one of my best friends. The whole way over I was numb. When I got to her house, I was numb. I just tried processing what was happening.
We left for the trial, and I didn’t know what to think. All I knew was that I was going to meet with the GAL, and I was going to make sure everyone saw J’s picture and remembered her during these proceedings. We arrived at the GAL’s office, and I could tell he was a real piece of work. He pulled out a cigarette and began smoking in the middle of the office without even asking us. He started his conversation by saying, “Well, I haven’t really made up my mind as to what I’m going to recommend. I don’t think they’ve really done anything wrong.” WHAT?!?!?!??! I could hardly keep my jaw up as I stared at this man. I’ve always been one the best debators ever; people hate fighting with me, because I never back down. I take my points and I prove them to the N’th degree. I fight like mad; people generally give up. Something about this man brought out the Mother Warrior in me (to quote Jenny McCarthy). I brought out every gun I could muster and had the most compelling, convincing argument I could gather. No, I wasn’t in it to strictly adopt. Yes, I would be willing to accept RU if and only if they showed obvious signs of change. And I provide documents and pictures. At the end, I stared deep into this man’s eyes – a man who had admitted he has an 11-mos-old at home – and told him this baby’s life was in his hands. This baby deserves a chance at safety. If this baby went home and something happened, it would be because he didn’t stand up for her – he would have to live with that forever. She deserves the chance at safety; she deserves the chance to get a good life. She deserves to never have the bruises her mom had, or to be sexually assaulted like her mom was. As ½ hour came to a close, he said, “All right, all right – it sounds like you’re making my closing arguments. We’d better get to the courthouse.” And I knew: I knew he was convinced.
We got to the courthouse and I had a strong intuition the two people in the elevator with my husband and I were the parent’s attorneys. The way they talked about their clients was horrible; they joked that the dad needed a GAL on his own! Once we arrived to our floor, my husband and I sat down on a bench and the attorneys went back into an open conference area with our GAL and the CPS social worker. The discussion was awful to hear; the parent’s attorneys firmly felt this proceeding was stupid and nothing was founded. CPS was angry because it was obvious they were noncompliant 5 months ago. Our GAL said he wouldn’t recommend unsupervised visitation until DV work had seriously been completed. It became very clear that TPR was NOT going to happen due to the plea on the table.
As we sat on that bench, something told me the woman sitting across from me in a red suit was the prosecutor. I don’t know how, but I knew. I walked up to her and asked if her name was ___. Yes, it was. Was she a prosecutor? Yes, she was. I introduced myself and said I wanted her to see the baby’s pictures, so she could see who the baby she was representing was. She “ooh’d” and “ah’d” and asked how she was doing, but she didn’t care much past that. It was clear, she’d made up her mind. The minutes went by so slow after that. The baby’s grandma, who abused and allowed abuse against her daughter – the mom, showed up and had this fake speech about how the family was so happy with me, blah, blah, blah. I couldn’t help myself; what did I have to lose? I said, “Really? Because that’s not what I just heard yesterday. I heard you guys think I’m only out to adopt this baby no matter what.” She was stunned; I’ve never stood up to her before. She gave me this junk about how she focuses on God, and I should always call her if I have any problems, blah, blah, blah. I do not believe her; she still thinks nothing ever happened when the mom was younger. She’s a coward and a few other expletives.
Time finally collided with the trial, and we were all invited into the court room. We took our respective places and began stating our names and relation to the judge. Right off the bat, the prosecutor spoke of the plea on the table. The two social workers just stared down; you could see the steam rising from their faces. They were so angry. The proceedings continued with that stupid look on those parent’s faces – that “We’ve got it now!” look. I just took notes – I was so numb. At one point, the judge asked how old the baby was. Someone said 3 months, and I couldn’t help myself. I raised my hand and said, “Three months, your honor, and I have pictures if you’d like to see her.” He stopped and looked at me kind of stunned and stammered, “Uh, okay.” I approached his desk (it was in a conference-style room). I handed him the pictures and he agreed that she was really cute. He asked if I had any extras, and I said, “Have ‘em all! Here, you want the envelope, too?” Everyone laughed and he said, “No, I just want one for the file. I really do appreciate pictures.”
The rest of the hearing was insignificant. Except for the parent-agency agreement bit. The judge asked for a PAA, but the prosecutor stated that they weren’t prepared to offer one. The CPS worker stepped up and said that they hadn’t expected this to happen, so they hadn’t prepared a PAA. It would take a little time. She said that they could offer a generic PAA, but given the circumstances, she felt it was more appropriate to have an individualized PAA specific to the case. She said she would feel more comfortable waiting and submitting the specific PAA. The judge agreed and set the next court date for 2 weeks in order to submit the PAA. The hearing adjourned and we all left. As we were walking out of the court room, the GAL stopped us and made sure we understood what had happened. He added a side-note of, “Well, IF they complete their PAA,” with a smirk. He added that a lot of progress would need to happen before she would go unsupervised.
There has been question as to the paternity of this baby. Before the hearing, in the pre-meeting of all the lawyers and workers, there was discussion about a big fight the parents recently had. Apparently they had thrown words at each other and the mom had said how she doesn’t think it’s even his baby. The dad told his lawyer that he wanted to terminate rights immediately at the hearing if it wasn’t even his baby; he didn’t even want her then. All the lawyers were stunned at that – his ability to be so back and forth and insist on TPR if it wasn’t his. Basically, the CPS worker stated how they’re married and our state’s law is that a baby born into marriage is the product of that marriage. Not to mention the father had signed the birth cert and had signed legal paternity paperwork.
I’m numb. I’m hurt. I watched the judge yesterday, and my intuition, which is really strong, is that he was willing to grant the TPR if the prosecutor recommended it. She’s up for re-election in 1.5 months and has been acting really weird lately. She’s been backing out of cases that she used to stand by lately, giving the parents more rights. In the past, she never worked this way. I fear it’s all PR related to the re-election.
My intuition tells me she’s going home. I’ve felt this all along. I’m terrified. They’re not ready to change; they still don’t admit anything is wrong. There’s a lot of lying and denial going on. It is, obviously, my deepest desire that they would actually receive the help they need and take it to heart; that they would change and J can go home to happy, healthy, whole parents. But the truth is soooo much different. The truth is so much more ugly. And I am terrified of the prosecutor now. How can these people sleep at night after seeing this baby’s face and knowing they are giving these people a chance?
I’m in an ugly place today; I’m so angry. I’m mad at God. I’m mad at the prosecutor. I’m mad at the social workers for not saying something to the judge. I’m mad at everyone. I’m terrified of looking at this baby – I’m so terrified she’ll go home and I won’t be allowed to see her ever again. That will be it. And worst of all, I’m terrified something will happen to her once she goes home.
So that is what happened yesterday. This is a long story today, but I needed to get it out. I needed this to process it.
Thank you for your thoughts, prayers, concerns, and words of kindness. I felt peace yesterday as we left; it was good to be able to walk with my head held high even though it wasn't what we wanted.
Welcome to the system i guess. The crappy system.
BUT they all sound like they are taking this baby's life and safety less than seriously, and thats sad.
