Officials at the State Dept. of Children & Family Services (DCF) say that their primary mission is to protect children. To do that, this agency routinely takes children away from parents suspected of abuse or neglect. "Suspected"— not proven— is the operative term here.
"If we err," DCF officials and judges say, "we want to err on the side of the children's safety."
But in light of the now-famous Nowatney case, many in the community are asking: Where are the safeguards to ensure that when the state does err— when children are taken in error from parents innocent of child abuse or neglect— the error will be quickly corrected? Where are the safeguards to prevent DCF bureaucrats, once they realize that they've made a mistake, from continuing to hold children hostage just to save face? Where are the safeguards to prevent officials from moving forward with senseless prosecution even when they know they don't have a case— just because they can? Where are the safeguards to prevent the bureaucrats from using their considerable power to punish parents— rather than to "protect children"— as per their mission statement?
Let's say it the way it is: Where are the safeguards to keep the DCF people from running out of control?
And what care is taken to select the people who do the important job of "protecting children"? Former DCF employees say that some of the people who are making the "take-children" decisions and who are lecturing parents concerning their parenting skills have never had children themselves.
Others in the department have poor records as parents. The son of one high-level DCF official was convicted of burglary and went to prison.
In Monroe County, when children are taken from their parents— often with the help of armed law enforcement officers and, sometimes, after only cursory investigations— they are placed with "foster parents" up and down the Keys. Foster parenting is a job. These people get paid by the state.
Reportedly, hundreds of children are in the foster care system here, awaiting determinations by the court as to whether they will ever be returned to their parents, or whether they will be put up for adoption. In fact, former workers in the Guardian Ad Litem (GAL) program say that there are so many kids in the system that the system may be breaking down.
A "Guardian Ad Litem" is a volunteer who is trained to represent the interests of a child who has been forced into the system.
Last year, five GAL workers quit in disgust, charging GAL Administrator Alexsa Corsi-Leto with incompetence, mismanagement and falsification of records.
One former GAL said that as many as 75 children might be assigned to a single GAL staff coordinator. "There is no way that the interests of the children are being served here," one former GAL said.
The GAL reports are often the swing factor as to how a judge might rule in an abuse case. But some former volunteers have alleged that Corsi-Leto altered their reports before they were presented to a judge.
When an investigator from the State Inspector General's Office came down to check out the allegations, Corsi-Leto reportedly gave him incorrect information concerning the number of cases assigned to GAL volunteers. When the error was discovered, Corsi-Leto at first attempted to blame her secretary. But the secretary said she simply typed the numbers that Corsi-Leto gave her.
Subsequently, the investigator gave the local Gal program a clean bill of health— although he reportedly did not speak to any of the complainants.
Alexsa Corsi-Leto has been a key player in the Nowatney case. She did not respond to a request for comment.