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My Story
First Story: My First Experiences with DHS
When I was 16, my mother died of cancer. Difficulties with my family
made moving back with them not viable. I was staying with a family I
always refer to as my "foster family," but there was no official foster
care status. Of course, during this tenure, the State of Maine Department
of Human Services Child Protective Services became involved, and I had to
deal with one "Marj Lawrence." The details of that time aren't too
important, but she made life difficult then. I had no way of knowing then
how miserable she'd make my life years later.Second Story:
Full-Fledged Abuse of Power by DHS
In 1992, while engaged to a lady who had two kids, a case was opened
against her by DHS-CP. Although I hadn't known it until that time, a case
had once been opened against her, and later closed. This new case was opened, claiming she was an abusive mother—and I was named as an
abusive boyfriend in the process. The complaint was originally filed by
our two lady neighbors in the apartment building in which we lived. These
women weren't very child-friendly; in fact, the very day we moved in, one
of them expressed her displeasure with children being next door.
One night, while experiencing serious difficulty getting her son to go
to bed, the neighbors called the police. My girlfriend and brother and I
were more than surprised when a Bangor cop knocked on our door and all but
accused us of beating the child. Allegedly, we beat on him and dragged him
up the stairs by the hair.
There had been nothing more than a kid throwing a tantrum, not wanting
to go to bed; and, in fact, a few minutes after making it there, he had
fallen asleep. The cop was, of course, convinced of our guilt, and
demanded we bring the child downstairs for inspection. Extremely annoyed,
I did so. The cop was visibly surprised to discover that there was, of
course, no evidence of any abuse. In fact, he apologized, and explained he
had no choice on such a complaint but to investigate thoroughly. We
understood, but weren't happy about it.
He also had no choice but to make a report to DHS, and regardless of
his reporting that the incident was baseless, they opened the case against
my girlfriend. That's another story, too, one perhaps I'll get
into later. This has all just been the precursor to the real story.
Third Story: The One That Matters
In 1993, I became reunited with a past girlfriend who had four
children. These were all difficult children with serious emotional
problems as a result of being sexually, physically, and emotionally abused
by their biological father and several of his relatives. When this girl
and I got back together, DHS had just opened a case against her. The
opening moves of this vicious, unbalanced chess game was typical of DHS:
threats, coercion, and illegal acts by the caseworkers in an attempt to
frighten and browbeat my girlfriend into doing whatever they wanted.
I was barred from attending meetings with her after the first few,
since I wasn't about to take any of it lying down. They knew I would be in
the way, so they prevented me from being part of the meetings. "He's just
a boyfriend," they told my girlfriend. "We don't have to allow him in the
meetings."
So, for legal leverage, we were married. This was a colossally huge
wrong reason for getting married, but we had no choice.
It didn't end there. All you have just read is barely a prelude. For
the whole story, check back soon; it will be posted for your disbelief.
I hardly believe it
myself. |
