Society and Its Acceptable Level of Horror

May 17, 1997. “Evadne W.” Child’s arm was broken in two places. . . .

Of course, had anyone known, well, it goes without saying, we’d have done anything to save that foster baby, Gilbreania. The children are our priority, our future. But you know children. Especially children like--sorry, what was this one’s name again?

Right. Gilbreania Wallace. Heavens, they run together, don’t they, these stories about kids dying in foster care? One day they’re supposed to be a ghetto symptom, the next they reflect the alienation of the suburbs. Good thing it’s clear how much we care about the children. Otherwise, who’d have the stomach to pay attention out there?

Gilbreania. How about that spelling? South-Central Los Angeles, wasn’t it? Willowbrook? Allegedly beaten to death this month by a foster mother, Doris Bennett, who was supposedly being paid--and supervised--by that politically connected foster care agency. The Grace Home for Waiting Children. Lots of foster kids. Lots of public dollars. The papers said the agency had been sending kids to Bennett for years.

Well, how can you know about somebody, really? Grace Home has some 170 placements. And Bennett seemed fine, according to the agency’s “Child Death Fact Sheet.” Good with birth mothers. Gave educational toys to her charges. Fine, except for those “special incidents.”

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Nov. 16, 1997. “Evadne W.” Child allegedly hurt arm when she fell backward getting into a church van. Child was taken to St. Francis Hospital and arm was placed in a cast. No abuse or neglect was suspected. Medical documentation is attached.

May 22, 1998. “Crystal J.” Anonymous call to the Department of Children and Family Services alleging that child was often hit by hand and belt; witnessed [Bennett] shove child into iron fence as she yells and scolds her. It is our understanding that the Emergency Response Command Post responded to this referral and determined that the children were safe.

Well, sure: Line up the reports on the woman who cared for little--Gilbreania, was it?--and they do make a terrible tableau. But taken alone, they’re just allegations involving little children. Little children do act up. And fall down.

And these foster parents are saints. Saints. Cynics claim the system is a crapshoot, and sure, every once in a while you’ll hear some piece of trailer trash in line at Target, talking about how they’re going to get a foster care license, make some easy dough. But the kids they take in are the children of dope fiends, criminals, molesters, lowlifes. It goes without saying that the rest of us might get stuck with these kids, were it not for the foster folks.

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Aug. 1998. “Samuel M.” Shaken baby syndrome. Child was in respite care with Bennett at the time of incident. Bennett was interviewed by law enforcement and voluntarily submitted to a polygraph test.

The questions, too, run together. Where were the caseworkers? Where was the oversight? Grace Home was run by a DCFS official who, with his boss’ blessings, took a leave to open the agency. Which then contracted back with his old department. Which paid Grace Home amply to find homes for these kids. If it smacked of a hustle, the mission was well-meaning: to attract black foster families for black foster children who, increasingly, were being placed far from their neighborhoods with nonblack families. Big names like Mervyn Dymally, the ex-congressman, were partners. Powerful people had vested interests in seeing Grace Home succeed.

But there were bad audits, bad placements, state citations. Financial irregularities. And how many investigators did L.A. County pay to double-check the thousands of children in the care of the 150 agencies like Grace Home?

Three.

So familiar questions now make way for familiar morals. Overworked caseworkers, not enough money, too much abuse. Fears that go without saying--about whether you get what you pay for in child protection, about whether the children truly matter all that much.

Because if actions speak loudest, and so much can go without saying, then there is just one message: We don’t really have a problem with kids dying in foster care. If we did, we’d do whatever it took, spend whatever was needed, to stop it. There would be zero tolerance. Instead, the big picture is numbingly changeless. The occasional shuffling occurs, but everyone knows the priorities. There’s only so much we’ll ante up in time and taxes. We accept a certain ratio of civilian casualties.

So it is that the Grace Home fact sheet ends with no surprises: June 6, 1999. “Gabriana W.” Child death. It was Gilbreania. Gilbreania, a name as fragile, as irreplaceable, as a snowflake. Did no one care enough even to check the spelling? The answer goes without saying, doesn’t it?

Shawn Hubler’s column runs Mondays and Thursdays. Her e-mail address is shawn.hubler@latimes.com.