Child Abuse from the Eyes of a Foster Advocate

This is the story of one child's journey through the foster care system.

As you read the experiences of this child who survived abuse, you’ll learn:

We hope you are inspired to become an advocate for this vulnerable population, whether you are a parent, teacher, social worker, therapist, faith-leader, or volunteer.

This is Darius’s story.

Meeting Darius

When I met Darius, I was struck by his gentle nature. What a sweet little boy he is. I hoped I would be a positive light in his life, but I was unprepared for how challenging it would be to connect with him.

In the beginning, he completely closed himself off to me. At eleven years old, he had already lived in thirteen homes and experienced too much harm.

He didn’t trust anyone.

He had already decided to commit himself to not letting anyone new into his heart. His resolve made him feel strong and in control.

For me, this meant he would not talk to me.

I spent hours with him every week for months without more than an “uh-huh” coming out of his mouth. He wasn’t willing to let me get to know him. It didn’t take long to see the deep pain within him, which broke my heart.

How would we ever connect?

I was Darius’s court-appointed advocate, and I had made a four-hour-per-week commitment for 18 months.

But how was I supposed to advocate for a child who refused to talk to me? I had to throw every preconceived notion of how this was going to work out the door.

How was I going to do this?

This story is about Darius, but it is also my story.

I want you to know that supporting survivors of abuse can be incredibly challenging.

I don’t want to discourage you, and if you make this commitment thinking you are going to make a difference without being willing to be stretched and changed, you might not be ready to take on this role.

Your resolve to stick by them needs to be bigger than your discomfort and stronger than their resolve to not let you in.

However, if you make this choice, you will be enriched even more than they will.

Darius’s Story

Darius would never return to his parents. Their rights had been terminated when he was a baby.

The trauma he had experienced by the time I met him was too much for him to bear.

Some of the foster homes he had lived in seemed, from the outside, to be perfect. But Darius and the other children were emotionally and physically abused by the foster mother, without the foster father knowing what was happening.

It got so bad that Darius and another child ran away.

They told the police everything that had been going on in the home, but the police didn’t believe them and instead offered to take him back to the same foster home.

They refused.

Deciding to leave that foster home devastated him, not only because of the abuse they had endured but because he was very attached to his foster dad.

When faced with the allegations, the foster dad chose not to believe him either.

Nobody wanted to believe that this foster mom—a well-known philanthropist and advocate—could abuse the children in her care.

Instead, they refused to believe Darius or his foster brother.

Years later (and after it was too late for Darius), the truth came out when another child disclosed the foster mom’s abusive behavior.

By then, the trauma of her emotional and physical abuse, combined with the harm added by everyone’s unwillingness to believe them, seared deeply into these children’s souls.

They struggled for years afterward, unable to overcome the devastation this incident caused.

Yet, Darius never stopped wanting to be with the foster dad, whom he was sure would adopt him and give him a forever home.

The Start of a Connection

When Darius and his foster brother moved into a small group home where I first met him, they both had already resigned themselves.

Darius did not trust anyone and believed he was all alone.

Having never been a survivor of the abuse he experienced, I did not truly understand what he was going through, but I could empathize with him, and I respected his decision to be silent.

One day, I finally said to him, “Darius, I am a volunteer. No one is paying me to be here. I have made an 18-month commitment to see you every week. I will talk to the Court for you and share your wishes, dreams, and needs with the judge. You can choose to do whatever you want with this time, to talk with me or not. Whatever you decide, I will keep coming back.”

A few hours later, he started talking to me for the first time.

“So, you’re a volunteer?”

“Yes, I am a volunteer.”

“No one’s paying you to come and see me?”

“No, Darius, no one is paying me to spend time with you.”

“Everyone is paid. They don’t really care; they have to be with me. No one’s ever volunteered to be with me.”

He was right. All who had come before me had been paid to care for him.

In this brief exchange, we experienced the breakthrough I had hoped for, and Darius started to let me in.

The Contract

Still, he was struggling greatly in his home and at school. He started to act out regularly.

Darius’s social worker, therapist, group home mom, and I got together and created a contract for him regarding his behavior. It was a code he would have to follow that contained clear boundaries and repercussions.

The consequences outlined in the contract were aligned with the severity of the misbehavior, but they were meant to deter behavior while also continuing to establish trust and faith in their relationship.

Darius responded well to the agreement. He was genuinely excited about it because it made him feel secure.

Shortly thereafter, he tested the boundaries by rolling up a paper towel and using the kitchen stove to light it on fire like a match.

Tragically, that decision proved to have grave consequences for Darius and his future.

The Fallout

His foster mom was terrified that another child would get hurt. She set aside the contract and ordered an emergency removal, requiring Darius to be moved within 72 hours.

She was not willing to discuss alternatives or stick to the agreement. She felt horrible but was too scared to let Darius stay.

The result of this decision meant that Darius had to leave that family-like environment to move into an institutional setting known then as a high-level residential treatment facility.

The other children in the residential treatment facility were a few years older than him and most had criminal records. All except Darius were on psychotropic medication to control their behavior.

In one swift decision, this sweet little boy’s childhood was disrupted once again.

I knew this was way too big of a jump for Darius, and I fought hard against it, but no one would listen to me.

His behavior did not warrant such a move, but the decision was made without me.

Hurt and Abuse Received in a Facility

The next morning, after I heard the news, we grabbed a garbage bag full of Darius’s belongings, told him to say goodbye, and moved him an hour away.

He kicked and screamed the whole way there. He even tried to jump out of the car onto the freeway. He was terrified and so incredibly hurt.

“But we had a contract!” he screamed. “What happened to the contract? You promised!”

Little did he know, that’s exactly what I said to everyone when I learned about this decision. Everyone had broken their promise to work with him.

His introduction into the new building included him being physically restrained against the trauma response he was having to a traumatic experience.

I cannot compare the trauma I experienced that day with the trauma Darius experienced. Still, it was deep for both of us, though much, much deeper for him.

Loopholes and Lies

Within a few months at the new facility, Darius’s on-site social worker made up another “emergency” situation, allowing her to medicate him without court (or my) approval.

Once again, I had been deprived of the ability to advocate for this child.

Previously, I had promised Darius I was required to be part of any such decision (as the Court had ordered me to be), but I never knew he was being medicated until Darius told me himself.

Even worse, his counselor lied to Darius, telling him I had known, making Darius believe I was just another person letting him down. Both of us were shocked to realize what had actually happened.

This social worker had decided to use a loophole in the law at that time, which allowed foster children to be medicated without court approval where there was an “emergency” situation.

She used it to control Darius’s behavior without having any accountability for her decision.

Darius was never diagnosed with a disorder that warranted the psychotropic drugs he had been prescribed. The Court would never have approved the request, but at that time, those emergency actions didn’t require court approval.

Furious, I reported the facility, made sure he was placed in a foster home, and had the facility investigated for the mistreatment.

It was too late for Darius, who was forced to face another new placement with more people he would never trust. He was almost thirteen at the time.

By now, he had been in fifteen placements.

The Rest of the Story

Darius never found a permanent home, and he continued to face many challenges in life.

I wish I could take away the multiple layers of harm he experienced in his years with the court system as his parent—the trauma Darius endured, and the rejection he didn’t deserve.

He was born precious and continues to be an incredible human being worthy of love and success.

And although Darius is not choosing to live his life as a victim anymore, he truly was a victim in the truest sense of the word.

A Note from MEND

If you were moved by Darius’s story and want to help generate awareness surrounding the reality of child abuse, please share this blog with others.

For resources on how to become an advocate for survivors of abuse, click here.