THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1997, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Friday, January 17, 1997 TAG: 9701160097
SECTION: VIRGINIA BEACH BEACON PAGE: 06 EDITION: FINAL
TYPE: Cover Story
SOURCE: BY JO-ANN CLEGG, STAFF WRITER
LENGTH: 177 lines
It was hard for her to understand the world. She was only 2 years old. It was harder yet to make the world understand her. Getting straight with the world would have been tough even if she had had a place to sleep, enough food and two parents who loved her.
But understanding and being understood were close to impossible when there was not enough food to go around, when violence filled her home and when someone came to her bed at night and did horrid, hurtful things to her.
They got even more difficult when more strange things began to happen. Grown-ups she didn't know came to look at her and her baby brother and to ask questions that she understood a little, but had no way of answering. And then both were taken away to new homes where they said they would be safe. Only her brother went to one and she to another. And then, even though the grown-ups around her were nice, she was still scared and lonely.
She would have liked to tell them how she felt and what she needed, but she didn't have words to do that yet, so she used the only words she did know. Those that she learned in the house with the yelling and the hitting and the people who hurt her.
Instead of understanding what she was trying to say, the adults looked at her strangely and told her that those words were bad, that she shouldn't use them. She wished that someone who knew the right words could make others understand what it was she needed, what it was that would make her feel better.
Fortunately, for this little girl and her brother, there was someone, a Court Appointed Special Advocate or CASA. Appointed to the case by a Juvenile and Domestic Relations Court judge, the volunteer worked with the family for more than a year. She waded through background reports, earned the trust of the mother, coordinated appointments for the children, wrote detailed reports on their progress and, eventually, was able to see the mother and children safely reunited.
The Virginia Beach CASA program was begun in 1988 in response to a request from the Juvenile and Domestic Relations Court judges. ``They felt that they needed such a program to advocate for safe, permanent homes for the abused and neglected children of this city,'' said CASA Director Edith Duggan, who has been with the program since its beginning.
Start-up funds for the Virginia Beach CASA came from the E.C. Wareheim Foundation. Grants and donations still provide the bulk of the agency's $96,000 annual budget.
With a staff of one full-time paid employee, three part timers and 33 volunteers, Virginia Beach CASA currently has a caseload of 91 children. Although CASAs may be called to work on cases involving any child under the age of 18, most children served are between 4 and 10.
Some are abused, some are neglected and some are the innocent victims of angry custody battles. Many are all of the above. All are involved in the court system where judges must sift through mountains of reports and conflicting stories from adults to decide what is best for the child's future.
That is where, at the judge's request, the CASA steps in.
Working with just one case instead of the dozens that human services workers carry, the volunteer follows the child or children in each family, then reports back to help the judge with his decision.
Marcia Salmons has been a volunteer with the CASA program since it began eight years ago. During that time, Salmons, a Virginia Beach homemaker and mother of two school-age daughters, has stood by the sides of children as they made their way through the juvenile courts. It is her unpaid job to look at the child's world and pass on to the judge the information she finds.
Salmons' work starts when she receives background reports prepared by other agencies, most frequently the Child Protective Services unit of the Department of Social Services.
``I read the reports, I look at the pictures and then I cry a lot,'' said Salmons, sipping a cup of coffee in the kitchen of her comfortable home. ``But only in the shower,'' she quickly added, smiling just a bit. ``It usually takes me about two weeks to prepare myself to meet with the children.'' By then, she explained, she has her emotions in check and is ready to deal with facts.
The facts in the case that Salmons remembers best were enough to bring tears to the eyes of even the most seasoned human services professional.
At the age of 5, the little fellow had never known a time when he wasn't covered with cuts, bruises and burns of the most horrible type in the most sensitive of places.
His mother and her boyfriend, telling stories that didn't begin to explain the severity or placement of the bruises, claimed he had hurt himself. Although there was a lot of evidence that the injuries were inflicted by the boyfriend, the mother refused to separate from the man.
Eventually the mother was given temporary custody of the child, providing she live with relatives who had a stable home and not allow the boyfriend to have contact with the 5-year-old.
The child thrived in the stable, out-of-state home of the caring family members, but the mother continued to deny that the abuse had taken place. She returned to this area without the child, claiming that she had broken off her relationship with the suspected abuser.
For more than 1 1/2 years, Salmons kept in touch with the child in person and by phone; met with his teachers, therapist and baby sitter; talked with relatives, friends and agencies that had contact with the mother and monitored the mother's compliance with court orders.
``I was pretty sure she was still seeing the boyfriend,'' Salmons recalled, ``but I had no way of proving it.'' Eventually, though, she went an extra step to get the proof that she needed. By keeping watch at the man's house, she discovered that the mother still had frequent and prolonged contact with the alleged abuser.
An eight-page report was filed with the court in the child's behalf.
Years later, Salmons still remembers the day the judge made his decision in the case. ``He was wonderful,'' she said. ``He came down from the bench, sat next to the child and was so gentle with him.''
In the end, the court accepted the CASA's recommendation that full custody be given to the relatives who had provided a home for the youngster during the time the case was being investigated, months during which he had thrived for the first time in his short life. The mother, the judge decreed, would be allowed only brief, supervised visits.
Since CASAs are not allowed to have further contact with children in their caseload once a decision has been reached, Salmons' involvement with the little boy ended soon after that day.
``The last time I saw him was at the beach,'' she said. ``He took off his shoes and I could still see some of the old bruises, only now they were healed,'' the volunteer recalled softly.
The Virginia Beach CASA program is one of nearly 650 nationwide. The idea originated in Seattle in 1977 when a judge became concerned about the rising number of abuse and neglect cases that he was seeing.
The children had legal representation through ``guardians ad litem,'' attorneys who advocated for their interests. Often, though, those appointed in their behalf had neither the time nor the training to provide adequate information to the court.
And while social workers involved in the cases had the training, large caseloads limited the amount of time they could spend on any one child or family.
At the judge's request, the Seattle court began recruiting and training volunteers to meet the need. The program proved so successful that a nationwide network of CASA programs was begun.
In 1990 the General Assembly enacted legislation providing for CASA programs statewide. Today, there are 22 programs in Virginia, including five in the Hampton Roads area.
Recruitment, training, supervision and support of volunteers are handled by Duggan and two part-time coordinators, Barbara Hudgins and Barbara McCrudden. Both know firsthand what the volunteers need. McCrudden, who has been a staff member for two years, had been a CASA volunteer since 1990. Hudgins, a staff member for a little more than a year, had first volunteered in 1991.
Their backgrounds are similar to that of many of the volunteers. Both have college degrees. Both have worked in areas unrelated to human services and both, when they were volunteering, had the kind of flexible schedules that allowed them to be available when needed.
Both also had the objectivity that is essential for CASA volunteers. ``One of the hardest things for new volunteers to understand,'' said Duggan, ``is that their job is not to rush in and rescue the child.'' They are, first and foremost, fact finders who will do the sometimes heartbreaking, often boring, work of sifting through reports and interviewing those who know the family.
The comes the final step, preparing the report for the judge. That report's importance, staff and volunteers agree, cannot be overestimated. ``It's the last one that the judge sees before he makes his decision,'' said Duggan. ``They tend to rely pretty heavily on it.'' It is there, finally, that somebody puts into words those things the child can not yet convey. ILLUSTRATION: Color photo illustration on cover by C. KEVIN ELLIOTT
Staff photo by STEVE EARLEY
From left, Virginia Beach CASA director Edith Duggan, along with
part-time coordinators Barbara Hudgins and Barbara McCrudden handle
recruitment, training, supervision and support of CASA's 33
volunteers. The current caseload is 91 children; most of them are 4-
to 10-year-olds.
Staff photo by CHARLIE MEADS
Marcia Salmons has been a CASA volunteer for eight years.
Graphic
REQUIRMENTS
To be a Court Appointed Special Advocate volunteer you must be:
Age 25 or older
Pass a thorough background check
Complete a six-week, 35-hour training course
Commit to one year of volunteer work
For additional information, call the Virginia Beach CASA program
at 426-5616.
KEYWORDS: CHILD ABUSE ADVOCATE JUVENILE JUSTICE SYSTEM