Helpless victims

 By Karin Grunden

 January 23, 2003

Better days: Crystal Helderman, 20, plays with her daughter, Shelby, at their home in December. (Tribune-Star/Joseph C. Garza)

A sippy cup in hand, the 4-year-old boy keeps a close eye on the officers rummaging through his family's kitchen trash.

Scouring the refuse for any sign of methamphetamine lab materials, one Indiana State Police trooper pulls out what resembles a glue stick used in crafts.

As the officers mull over the item, the boy corrects their guesses.

"Daddy smokes with that," the boy says, standing in the kitchen that has no running water -- except for the garden hose fed through the window.

On this day, his parents will be hauled to jail. Police discovered a working meth lab at the residence in rural Clay County.

The boy and his two siblings -- including a 6-month-old who was lying on the floor dotted with rabbit feces --will leave their home with a caseworker who will place them with a relative, or if that's not an option, with foster parents.

The story is real, as related by State Police troopers. And it's one all too familiar to local child protection advocates.

"What you see are conditions that you would hope no child would grow up in," said Jim Bedwell, director of the Sullivan County Office of Family and Children for the past six years.

Bedwell's been in homes where a jug of milk is the only thing in the refrigerator, where syringes and the powdery off-white drug are within easy reach of children.

The worst: A home where mice and rats scurried along the floor (he counted 10 to 15), cockroaches infested a refrigerator containing a half-eaten watermelon and dog feces covered the child's bed.

"We looked at one another," Bedwell said of himself and the police officers who were responding during the school day to a report of a single parent using meth. "We knew the child had to be removed."

Even in shocking situations, emotions must be put aside, Bedwell stressed. "If you become so emotional that you can't act, it doesn't help the child."

Over the past year in Sullivan County, 48 children have been removed -- either temporarily or permanently -- from their parents' custody due to meth. In some cases, newborns have been taken away at birth because their mothers were known to use. In other cases, children -- some as old as 13 -- have been taken away because chemicals or active meth labs have been found in the home. The extreme: A 10-year-old who was using the drug, as were his parents.

"We will do what is necessary so these kids can be safe," said Stephanie Beasley-Fehrman, program and policy supervisor with the Sullivan County Office of Family and Children.

Beasley-Fehrman said it's clear that in some cases, meth use affects parents' ability to parent and provide the basic needs. Parents may become downright neglectful, failing to prepare decent meals for their children or clean up after the family pet.

Roger Hopper, a Paris, Ill., narcotics officer who remembers finding a half-dozen kids playing in a yard filled with meth lab waste, said he doesn't doubt that methamphetamine addicts love their kids.

"It's just the drug is more important to them than anything," Hopper said.

An Indiana law effective June 1, 2001, has made it easier to remove children from homes where methamphetamine is being manufactured. Before the law, children were not necessarily presumed to be endangered by the conditions. Now, they are, Beasley-Fehrman said, explaining that the law gives caseworkers the right to intercede to protect the child.

Beasley-Fehrman points to the risk of explosion or absorption of the chemicals in explaining why kids should be removed from a residence containing a meth lab.

Sometimes, labs are discovered by caseworkers while responding to a complaint about a child being battered or a house that's dirty, said Mike Baker, who supervises Vigo County's Child Protective Services. If caseworkers discover a meth lab, they're to leave the home immediately and report their findings to police, he said.

More and more, safety is a concern, Bedwell said, explaining that in some circumstances, caseworkers will ask police to accompany them to a home.

Once a child is removed from the residence, it's preferable to find a relative who will take in the child. The challenge: "A lot of times what we're finding is the family knew it was going on," Baker said.

In Sullivan County, the majority of children are placed with relatives. In reality, there is little choice.

"We do not have enough foster homes to meet the need," said Bedwell, whose agency oversees five foster homes, which he described as excellent but at their limit. Of them, four house children who have been impacted by methamphetamine.

With placements on the rise, so are the costs. During the four months ending Sept. 30, Sullivan County spent $105,729 on housing at institutions, foster homes and therapeutic foster homes. During the same quarter two years earlier, the cost was $84,129, Bedwell said, explaining that meth is largely responsible for the increase.

Those figures don't account for counseling or medical services for the children. Nor does it include children placed in relatives' homes.

Attorney fees for the agency are on the rise, too. During three summer months in 2002, the Sullivan County office spent more than $7,900 for representation at detention and review hearings for children, up from $4,225 over the same period in 2001.

Random drug screenings of parents were uncommon a couple of years ago. The cost for such screenings by the Sullivan County Office of Family and Children exceeded $2,600 between July and October, Bedwell said.

And there are the indirect costs.

Caseworkers, who are working hundreds of hours in overtime -- most of it compensated by days off -- are finding the task overwhelming.

"There's times when they're angry. They're tired," said Bedwell.

In one instance, a young caseworker left the job earlier this month. She'd worked in Sullivan County for just a year.

"It is difficult to say what the long-term cost is going to be in these counties," Beasley-Fehrman said.