Alice tried to buy time by offering to become Nicholas's permanent managing conservator, a route usually taken by grandparents and other relatives to keep a child in the family. Coming from Alice, it led to a misunderstanding that the Rihas and CPS probably will never resolve.

The agency apparently thought the Rihas had already made a decision on Nicholas and were now trying to back out of it. An internal memo from a CPS supervisor to caseworker Kathy Whipple accused the Rihas of refusing to adopt Nicholas "because if his behavior escalates, they think they can give him back to the agency…They had the biological mother, therapists, CPS and everyone else concerned for the child, believing they were going to adopt…I need as much help as possible to let the Rihas know their options."

In mid-November the Rihas met with a group of CPS caseworkers and supervisors. There was only one real option for Nicholas: adoption. The Rihas would be eligible for a state adoption subsidy that, while it wasn't much — enough to cover a fraction of the cost of private insurance — it was better than conservatorship, which came with no financial assistance. Moreover, according to a caseworker's notes, if the Rihas were awarded conservatorship of Nicholas, CPS would step in again only in cases of abuse or neglect. In other words, if the Rihas couldn't take care of Nicholas, they could be held liable.

"Ms. Riha became very upset with her options," the caseworker noted. "We, as a group, gave them two months to decide on the permanent plans for Nicholas or he will be registered on the Texas adoption exchange."

A few weeks later Alice brought Nicholas to a Chuck E. Cheese's near the Galleria to say his final good-bye to Dolores, Jordan and Stephen. With Alice's help, Nicholas picked out a farewell gift for his mother, a gold necklace. Dolores slipped the boy a small Bible, in which she had listed her date of birth and social security number so he could look for her when he turned 18.

Dolores's desperation that afternoon was matched only by Alice's. How soon before she too would have to say good-bye to Nicholas?

"We started working" with CPS, Alice recalls. "They said, 'You need to wear a particular fragrance all the time and when another mother adopts him, give her that fragrance to wear and he'll identify that with mother.' That would make the transition easier, they said. But it was breaking my heart."

Before CPS could place Nicholas with another family, his behavior took a desperate turn. Throughout the Christmas season, Nicholas had been as aggressive as the Rihas had ever seen him. He was having recurring nightmares, including one in which his mother chased him off a cliff. Alice suspected he was having hallucinations; Nicholas said he could watch television on the ceiling.

One morning in January 1997, Alice heard her Yorkshire terrier screeching wildly. She found the dog in the kitchen, bleeding and badly injured, and Nicholas glowering nearby. Alice first called Nicholas's psychiatrist, then his CPS caseworker, Kathy Whipple. Both suggested she take him to the psychiatric unit at Forest Springs Hospital, a shaded two-story building in north Houston.

According to hospital records, Nicholas was aggressive and profane after admission. He listened to no one and talked incessantly. He told a staff member that he hurt the Rihas' dog "because he was licking me the wrong way." He spoke of a "sun devil" that had given him a special remote control that "lets me watch television in my head."

Nicholas was examined by Jim Whitely, a psychologist at Forest Springs. Whitely noted the "probability" that Nicholas had suffered brain damage when he was shot. He recommended an MRI and CAT scan. He also recommended Nicholas participate in family therapy with his foster parents, whose involvement in his future prognosis, Whitely said, was "critical."

For reasons that remain unclear, that last bit of advice was ignored, setting off a chain of events that could haunt Nicholas for the rest of his life. Alice and Ellery visited Nicholas almost every evening, when he invariably asked to come home. He also made that request repeatedly to Whipple, his caseworker. In late January, according to CPS case notes, Nicholas told Whipple that he wanted to be adopted and go home. The caseworker told him he could be adopted "by anyone."