In a written statement, Department Commissioner Anne Heiligenstein swore that DFPS would do "everything we can to find out exactly what happened and if this death was, in any way, preventable."
It was just one of those stern-sounding things an official has to say after a tragedy, but in this particular instance, it was decidedly tone-deaf.
Photo courtesy of Shae
Shae says she moved 52 times in eight years of foster care.
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For one thing, it was the fourth restraint-related death for Daystar — which operated out of a series of double-wide trailers in a field in Manvel — and its sister companies. Of those, it was the second to be ruled a homicide. (Incredibly, after the first homicide in 2002, Daystar issued a statement suggesting that "the word 'homicide' has negative connotations...")
For another, Daystar had been placed on probation the very day the boy died, a result of a number of violations, including the finding that a staff member had sexually abused a mentally ill 16-year-old girl the year before.
In fact, Daystar's executive director had, on that same day, met with a DFPS program manager to discuss the department's "serious concerns."
But Daystar had been warned of "serious concerns" before. The previous deaths brought concerns. The revelation that Daystar staffers encouraged mentally ill girls to fight each other, rewarding the winners with snacks, was a concern. (The event didn't come to light until the Houston Chronicle and Texas Tribune brought it to light in 2010.) There were always concerns — but there were always contracts. Clay Hill, the owner of Daystar's parent company, made millions off the state.
Of Daystar, Department of Family and Protective Services spokesman Patrick Crimmins stated, "We took the appropriate steps in that case, at the appropriate times." (In addition to putting Daystar on probation and suspending CPS placement of children there, another step was the appointing of a special monitor to investigate practices at Daystar for three months. Although the monitor found problems with record-keeping and training in emergency behavior intervention, he also noted that "I truly enjoyed the time I spent at Daystar.")
Although Daystar is perhaps an extreme example, it's a good one for considering just how much DFPS will tolerate from the people it has caring for kids. And it's been that way for years.
In 1995, before some of the kids in Children's Rights' lawsuit were even born, a State Health and Human Services Office of Inspector General audit found that DFPS "did not actively supervise the child placing agencies and did not actively monitor the care of the children in the foster homes."
No controls were in place to make sure these agencies and homes were meeting standards, according to the audit. And "in many cases, caseworkers did not follow treatment plans or visit children under their care, foster children were placed in potentially harmful situations, background checks were incomplete and many foster parents were not trained." Based on its review of 78 case files, 34 children "never received a visit from the state caseworker since placement, which ranged from one month to four years."
A year later, Governor George W. Bush commissioned the Governor's Committee to Promote Adoption. The idea was to identify and remove the barriers to permanent placement. Not surprisingly, the report called for caseload reduction, increasing accountability among caseworkers, attorneys and the courts by mandating post-termination case reviews, and re-evaluating the foster care reimbursement system, among other things. No one paid much attention.
In 2004, Comptroller Carole Strayhorn issued Forgotten Children, a scathing report chronicling in detail the toxic effects that overloaded caseworkers, high turnover, lack of specialized care, and substandard providers had on children. Suddenly, Governor Rick Perry decided to take a gander at things. He ordered the Department of Health and Human Services to reform the beleaguered Child Protective Services.
Legislation in 2005 was supposed to reform CPS. As a 2007 report by Texas Appleseed, an Austin-based nonprofit, noted, the measures allotted $250 million in new state funds and mandated privatization of all child placement services.
But since much of the problem stemmed from "unmanageable investigative caseloads," CPS used the bulk of the new money to hire 3,200 investigators. The results were disastrous: New investigators meant more kids were pulled from homes and placed into foster care. (The number jumped from 13,431 in 2004 to 17,547 in 2006.) With no place to stick the newcomers, CPS ultimately admitted to a state Senate committee that some foster children were sleeping in CPS offices.
What little action was taken to privatize also backfired in 2006 when one provider that managed roughly 125 foster homes reported the abuse and deaths of three foster children in four months. (Today, CPS still operates under a dual system of private and department-run placement services.)
The Texas Appleseed report noted that, while the 2005 legislation required DFPS to increase safety measures such as wider background checks, there was little to address the problem of finding permanent homes.
In 2009, Perry borrowed Bush's idea, changed a few words around and called for the creation of an Adoption Review Committee. Its subsequent report stated, "Sadly, fourteen years later, [our findings] indicate that many of the same problems identified in 1996 still exist in the current child welfare system in Texas."
Children's Rights points to this history of inaction in its suit, saying the time has come for real change.