Allied Forces : In its fight for disadvantaged kids, the Alliance for Children’s Rights has found there’s nothing like a lawyer to get the attention of an unwieldy bureaucracy.

On the 19th floor of a mid-Wilshire high-rise in Los Angeles, a small boy wearing tidy, clean clothes sits alone at an enormous conference table, waiting to talk to his very own lawyer. He’s so little his feet don’t touch the floor, and he may be unaware that what will be set in motion today will profoundly affect the course of his future.

His particular story has yet to be told. But there are many others that have unfolded.

Like that of the little boy who had been taken in by the neighbors after being abandoned in infancy by his mother. When he was 4, his mother reappeared and claimed him. Shortly thereafter, it was discovered that he was being severely abused, and he was placed in a foster home. It took a lawyer to get him returned to his neighbors, to whom he was known and loved. Without a lawyer, he might have been lost in the system. And without the Alliance for Children’s Rights, he might never have had a lawyer.

“The Client” was a best-selling novel (made into a big-budget film) about a young boy whose life depends on having his own lawyer. At the alliance--where 200 to 250 children are getting legal help each month--they don’t consider it as much a novelty as filling a pressing need. “Our organization could keep its doors open 24 hours a day and only scratch the surface,” said attorney Pamela Mohr, executive director of the alliance.

Mohr, a cheerful and engaging 37-year-old, has been an advocate of children’s rights since 1986, when she started the Children’s Rights Project under the aegis of Public Council, the public interest arm of the Beverly Hills and Los Angeles bar associations.

Three years ago she founded the alliance, the only nonprofit organization in Los Angeles County that devotes itself solely to providing legal services for disadvantaged children. Of these there are plenty.

In Los Angeles County, one-quarter of all children live in poverty, and there are more abused and neglected children here than in any other place in the nation, according to a 1995 report published by Children Now, a nonprofit child advocacy group. Many of the alliance’s clients come from Dependency Court, the largest in the nation with more than 45,000 children (abused or abandoned by their families) under its supervision.

“Kids with poor parents or foster parents don’t get what they need,” Mohr said. “We educate the caretakers as to what kids’ rights are and how to be their advocate.” Funded by grants and through donations and fund-raising events, the alliance provides attorneys at no cost to the client, and proves over and over again that there’s nothing like a lawyer to get the attention of an unwieldy or seemingly uncaring bureaucracy.

The reception room in the alliance offices is filled with stuffed animals and children’s books, but behind a glass wall can be seen a formidable array of gilt-lettered law books. This is the stop in the road where the idealism of believing that children deserve a decent childhood intersects with the pragmatism of using the law to ensure it. In many cases, having a lawyer can mean the difference between a life that is spiraling downward and one that is set back on track.

Children helped by the alliance have stories filled with hard luck and hard times; many are heart-wrenching. Some problems have had simple solutions; others have proven as complex as the bureaucracy the lawyers wrestle with.

“Liz,” a teen-ager, was incarcerated in Juvenile Hall and not given the medication she needed, despite her mother’s many calls and letters.

“Nicki,” a 3-year-old in foster care, had had four front teeth knocked out but was being denied payment from DentiCal for a spacer that would allow her teeth to grow in normally and prevent a speech impediment.

“Alicia,” whose mother is dead and whose father is in prison for molesting her, was being raised by a sister who, because she wasn’t her legal guardian, couldn’t enroll her in school or get her medical care.

“Robert,” an infant born with his intestines outside his body, was at risk of developmental delays because MediCal would only pay for him to remain in the hospital (at unnecessary expense) instead of authorizing home nursing.

For these children and thousands of others, the alliance has stepped in and made a difference.

Like bread dough rising, kids require certain ingredients to flourish, and childhood and adolescence are brief but critical windows of passage to a functional, productive adulthood. “We see these kids with so much energy and promise,” said staff attorney Rene Gilbertson. “But they have a legal problem that could affect their lives for years to come. Our goal is to clear it up and keep them on track for meeting their potential.”

Last year, 19,000 new cases were filed in Los Angeles Dependency Court, said supervising Judge Michael Nash. “Our attorneys are working with caseloads of between 200 and 400 kids,” he said, which means they can’t deal with highly technical or time-consuming issues.

The alliance can provide a lawyer who can look for solutions to a child’s unique and often critical needs. “They’ve come in and handled hundreds of cases,” Nash said. “They do a good job and it doesn’t cost anything. Pam Mohr is as knowledgeable as anybody I’ve ever come in contact with on legal issues for children, and the court is very grateful.”

The alliance has also become involved in the growing population of children affected by AIDS who need help with insurance and medical or discrimination problems. It is projected that the number of children orphaned by AIDS will soon reach 80,000. Working in partnership with the Los Angeles Pediatric AIDS Network, the alliance provides lawyers to set up guardianships and keep these kids out of foster care.

Referrals come from all over. Social service providers, courts, teachers and Legal Aid make up just a few of the 75 groups and agencies that have sent kids to the alliance, Mohr said. With just three lawyers and two social workers on staff, the bulk of the cases are handled by a cadre of 450 volunteer lawyers, recruited, trained and supported by the alliance.

“People never recognized children’s rights as something they wanted to do before,” Gilbertson said. “Now there’s so much attention on it. Even kids themselves are becoming more aware that they have rights.”

“We started three years ago in the middle of a recession,” Mohr said, “yet we’ve been overwhelmed by the tremendous response from lawyers.” This summer 350 law students volunteered for nine places in the office.

As Frank Wheat, a retired partner in the law firm of Gibson, Dunn and Crutcher and one of the founders of the alliance, said: “You can get an awful lot of legal services from lawyers who want to volunteer their time if you have an organization to tap them. They can’t do this on their own. For every dollar we spend, we can get $13 in legal services. This for me is the biggest bang for your charitable buck. And who needs it the most? The poor children who often have nowhere to turn.”

An unexpected bonus at the alliance, Wheat said, is the number of children they’ve been able to keep out of the legal system. “We’ve become a clearinghouse of information for people who have the care and responsibility of a child and don’t know where to go. For every case that requires a legal brief, we’ll have a dozen cases where we can give them the advice that will take care of the problem.”

Mike Vacchio is a litigator who usually represents major corporations on environmental issues. He became a volunteer for the alliance, he said, “because I figured the best way to help is one kid at a time. Furthermore, I like looking in the mirror and being able to say, ‘I did something good for someone who deserved it.’ ”

He recently did a simple guardianship case, which he describes as a “no-brainer. But it got a kid on his feet so he had a place to live and someone to look after him--the basic securities--so he can grow up healthy and happy.”

Two days after he finished, he received a crystal paperweight from the alliance engraved with the words, Champion of Children’s Rights. “I got that plus a thank you from the guardian and a hug from the kid. It was as significant as any reward I’ve ever received in my legal career.”

Mohr said that she’d love to see the alliance get into family law and family custody cases. “And I’d love to get a pilot project going in Delinquency Court. But we’re doing well what we do now. And that’s the way we want to keep it.”

When asked what she likes about her work, she threw her head back and laughed. “What I like best is knowing you’ve made a difference in a kid’s life--there nothing like it--to see a kid whose lost his parents and to know there is someone there for them, or to see a kid who’s failing in school and to do some work and know we’ve put in place services that may turn that kid around.

“What bothers me most,” she added, “is that we have to be in existence at all. I’d like nothing better than for kids to have what they need, so attorneys aren’t required.”

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One Case at a Time

Oct. 13, 1994--Bobi Morales, intake coordinator at the Alliance for Children’s Rights, receives an emergency call from a hospital asking her to come immediately and see a young woman dying of AIDS; the staff does not expect her to live long. The woman has three small children, one of whom is HIV-positive. The father, also HIV-positive, has been in and out of the picture. Morales finds the woman very ill, but lucid about her wishes. Anxious about her child’s medical needs, she wants to make her mother the provider and legal guardian of her children.

Oct. 14--Morales and Blanca Jurado, an intake worker, visit the grandmother’s home to observe and talk to the children, which they do away from any other adults, a standard practice of the alliance. They find the children healthy and happy, though not very aware of what is happening to their mother.

Oct. 17--At a staff case review meeting, the alliance decides to accept the case and makes plans to get a declaration (a legal statement of intent) from the mother, in case she dies before it can go to court.

Oct. 18--Morales, Jurado and Sally Cotrel, an in-house attorney, go to the hospital, where the mother signs a declaration of intent.

Oct. 21--After a case summary has been drawn up detailing all the facts and issues, Cotrel calls Bridgette Vega, an attorney with Nestle USA who is on the alliance list of volunteers and who speaks Spanish. Cotrel asks Vega if she has time to take the case, which needs to proceed very quickly.

Oct. 27--Vega agrees to take the case.

Nov. 2--Cotrel and Vega confer about the case. They have learned that the father is upset about the guardianship and plans to contest it.

Nov. 15--Vega files papers and gets a date for a hearing.

Dec. 20--At the hearing, the father shows up to contest, afraid the grandmother will not let him see his kids. The commissioner grants temporary six-month custody to the grandmother, but he orders that a visitation schedule be set up.

April 20, 1995--Staff attorney Rene Gilbertson prepares a statement of facts showing the court that the mother and grandmother are prepared to work out visitation.

May 7--The alliance staff meets with the grandmother and mother at the hospital and gets their statements agreeing to visitation. The mother is very ill now, and they are afraid she will not be lucid much longer.

June 1--Papers are submitted to the court.

June 19--Gilbertson goes to the court to check that all documents are in order.

June 20--The mother, terribly weak, makes it to the court hearing with the help of a nurse. The father fails to make an appearance. After listening to the mother and grandmother, the judge grants permanent guardianship to the grandmother.