Columns
A Gordian Knot
Perhaps we need to channel Alexander the Great (356 – 323 B.C.) to help us address our Gordian Knot type problem of child welfare. You will recall Alexander eschewed the niceties of trying to unravel the problem step by laborious step and simply slashed through the morass of hemp with his sword. A tempting approach to any complicated puzzle but probably of little lasting benefit.
As we know from experience, every complicated situation can be papered over with a simple, wrong answer. We naturally yearn for quick and cheap solutions but these never cure the “disease” and often result in fatalities. That is what the former Indiana State Department of Children’s Services Director Mary Beth Bonaventura pointed out in her letter of resignation. She told Governor Eric Holcomb our current failure to adequately fund and analyze our child welfare needs will, “[A]ll but ensure children will die.”
And while this dramatic statement grabs our attention, what former Judge Bonaventura did not say was that Indiana child welfare is not just a DCS problem; it involves numerous other state and county level agencies such as courts, prosecutor offices, police departments, healthcare providers, schools, and several others in addition to families, immediate and extended.
I have plenty to do as Posey Circuit Court Judge when it comes to children who have need of or who use up taxpayer provided services. While I know we must approach this crisis of Children in Need of Services from all angles, I also know all hard problems call for careful, incremental approaches. So I will stay within my jurisdiction and address how the Judicial branch of government could help if the Legislative and Executive branches assist us to.
First let me give you an idea of how most Indiana courts, especially in small counties, must address the needs of families. Posey County has two judges. We divide all legal matters in such a way about half of the cases go to each court. The Circuit Court hears the Child in Need of Services cases. Frequently a family in DCS cases consists of one mother, two or more children and two or more fathers.
These are critical matters. Children may be at physical or mental risk, parents may be at risk of losing their children and the DCS has the duty to protect everyone’s interests while the Court must protect everyone’s rights. Each parent needs an attorney and in every case a Guardian Ad Litem must be appointed by the Court to concentrate on the children’s interests. Of course, wealthy people rarely are inconvenienced by such legal matters so the taxpayers must provide. You can readily see where we are headed.
This scenario also calls for Family Case Managers, police officers, mental and medical professionals, court personnel and a courtroom with lights, heat, recording equipment, etc.
Okay, I know this is exhausting. However, there is no Gordian Knot solution. It comes down to hard, complicated and expensive work. On the other hand, what could be more important?
The Seen And The Unseen
Sometimes we see damage after it has been done by kids to public property, such as library grounds and city parks. Usually we do not see the damage as it is being done to children by their neglectful or abusive caretakers. The financial and aesthetic loss to public property upsets us. The financial and psychic loss resulting from child neglect and abuse dwarfs the related juvenile vandalism.
Napoleon’s soldiers used the Sphinx for target practice and the Taliban destroyed priceless religious icons. Vandalism is neither new nor novel. Neither is child abuse and neglect. They have both been with us since Eve stole that apple and Cain was not sufficiently supervised. However, since America has become entangled in the opioid crisis we have seen an exponential increase in juvenile misbehavior and damage to those juveniles from the adults who are entrusted with their care.
In 2012 the State of Indiana’s Department of Child Services removed 8,897 children from their families. Only 5 years later 16,834 children had to be removed for their own care and safety or to protect others. The national average of child removals is 5.5 per 1000. Indiana’s removal rate is 13 per 1000. Of course, these figures only include the children who come to the DCS’s attention. There is little doubt the real need for child protection is a great deal higher.
Our state-wide crisis in needed intervention and provision of services such as food, shelter, education, counseling, clothing and medical care is so dire the state DCS Director, former Judge Mary Beth Bonaventura, just quit in despair in December, 2017. As she left she told Governor Eric Holcomb who had to appoint her replacement that Indiana’s policies in DCS matters, “…[A]ll but ensure children will die.”
In response the Governor has initiated a study to investigate the problems we face as a state in caring for our most vulnerable citizens. The Child Welfare Policy Practice Group, a non-profit agency located in Montgomery, Alabama, has been contracted to study Indiana’s problems and needs. Ms. Frieda Baker of that agency came by the Court last week to speak with me about our situation in Posey County.
I will bring you up-to-date in the next few weeks.
The Mouse That Roars
Gentle Reader, I ask you, “Is this fair?” Last week I barely escaped a medical catastrophe when I slipped on the ice while attempting to relocate a mouse from our house to a fiery fate. You may recall this whole thing was started by Peg who went ballistic when she found the mouse stuck in a trap. Apparently there is some universal law that mouse disposal is a husband’s job.
After I fell and received zero sympathy from Peg I sought input from my legions of supporters who read Gavel Gamut. Well, forget that! I have heard from nearly everyone who read last week’s column and they divide into three categories: (1) One person who accused me of cruelty to a mouse – even though it escaped as I almost died; (2) Three women who wondered how Peg could abide my whimpering; and, (3) an attorney from Orlando, Florida whose law firm specializes in representing mice. I’ll just relate his letter for you.
“Dear Judge Redwine,
As members of the Bar we are amazed a judge would violate the rights of our client whose only error in judgement was to seek warmth in your converted barn home. Come on! You should expect such visitors as you live right in the middle of their community.
Be that as it may, please be advised that should you not cease and desist from your attempts to harm our client, legal action will ensue.
Respectfully, of course,
Attorney Reyfert Hogart, Esq.
P.S. Peg has also contacted us with a question or two.”
A Wee Mousie’s Revenge
I can’t relate in a family newspaper my very first thought as I slipped on that icy stoop at JPeg Ranch and crashed precipitously into the large stone behind it. As I felt my left kidney complain about the cruel blow, my mind was in the pure reaction mode. Contemplation of the irony involved arose only after I realized I was not dead. Peg later said I must have actually landed on my head as there appeared to be no lasting damage.
But as the Good Book says, “In the beginning …” Last Friday morning’s near rendezvous with mortality began about 5:00 a.m. when I was shaving and heard Peg shriek, “Jim, get down here!” As I had experienced that tone for years I went ahead shaving thinking she probably had some task in mind for me that might be able to be avoided if I feigned deafness.
Peg stormed into the bathroom with the same attitude I remembered my drill sergeant had in basic training. “There’s a mouse in the sticky trap behind the commode in the laundry room!” I figured this was not going away but held out a glimmer of hope the mouse may have managed to escape and, therefore, so could I. I made no reply.
“You (why me?) need to get that thing out of here right now! And take it out to the burn pile. Do not even try to just throw it in the trash until the trash men come next week.” She is always at least one bad decision ahead of me.
Gentle Reader, you may recall that last Friday we still had the frozen remnants of ice and sleet from Mother Nature’s assault. Most of it was melted but some had re-frozen. Unfortunately for me the clear, invisible ice still covered the path out to the burn pile and most importantly the deck and steps leading to the path. Hold that thought.
Resigning myself to my spousal fate I checked behind the commode and found one fairly normal sized mouse looking at me with what appeared to be a respectful appeal for clemency. I picked up the trap and mouse with my left hand and headed out the three-season porch to the deck. Everything looked okay to me so I stepped down off the deck onto the large white stone step which also looked clear. Well, it was clear, clear ice.
Faster than the falling stock market I ended up crashing on my left kidney into the stoop and wishing I’d pass out. I didn’t. I first processed the similarity between the excruciating pain I was currently feeling and the only slightly more exhilarating level brought on when I broke my leg skiing. Once I finished cursing the darkness I began to contemplate why I had not just released the mouse and let it slip on the ice. Instead the mouse pulled away from the now crumpled trap and as I helplessly watched it looked back over its shoulder with an expression that appeared to me both sardonic and sarcastic. It did not hang around to offer aid or comfort.
After about ten minutes of writhing on the ice-covered ground and trying to figure out how I could parlay the situation into some advantage against Peg, I struggled my way back into the house seeking sympathy. Peg said, “I do not see any blood and, more importantly, where’s the mouse?” That was when the poem by Robert Burns, Ode to a Wee Mousie, came to mind. “The best laid plans of mice and men often go astray”, or in my case, Peg’s best laid plans for me.
Oh by the way, not only was Peg about as sympathetic as a traffic cop in Alabama when you have an Indiana license tag, but when I went to see Dr. Lee he took one brief but professional look and said, “You are not dying, it’s only an ugly bruise. But if you want me to, I’ll call Peg and tell her you cannot do any chores until Spring.” Unfortunately, he was only kidding.
Common Law Is Common Sense
There are two general categories of American law: Civil Law (statutes and other written rules), and Common Law (case decisions or judge-made law). Civil law normally comes from a legislative body such as Congress and is published in the form of statues. Common Law is derived from precedent, that is, deciding a current legal controversy by referring to how similar controversies have been resolved by judges in the past. Another way of looking at Common Law is thinking about how we all learn things from our parents, in other words, benefitting from their good and bad experiences which they share with us.
If you should be among that select few who regularly read this column you may recall a couple of weeks ago we were considering the Common Law/Common Sense guidance set forth by some of my fellow alumni and alumnae of the National Judicial College in Reno, Nevada. I find I have learned more from the wisdom of my fellow judges than any classroom. You probably feel the same way about how you have relied on the good and bad experiences of others to help you repeat or avoid similar situations.
Following are a few more “Common Laws” taken from an article in Case In Point, the NJC 2017-2018 publication concerning, Things Judges Wish They Had Known BEFORE They Took The Bench:
“Part of a judge’s developed skill, especially a rural judge, is having a feel for whether or not a particular case will actually go to trial. This helps immensely with case scheduling, jury summoning and with the possibility of a judge getting a good night’s sleep almost every night. I finally concluded that a lesson could be learned from the occupation of circus ringmaster.”
Hon. Jess B. Clanton, Jr. (Ret.), 12th Judicial District, Oklahoma;
“How much this job would change how I view the world. I had spent 30 years as a police officer prior to being appointed, and I thought I had a good view of the world. This job made me step back and really look at everything-everything I did, everything I posted, everything I said to friends and how I acted in public and around my family. I really wanted people to look at me and respect me for the job I was doing. In doing so, I had to step up and make sure I was worthy.”
Hon. Kevin L Wilson, Justice of the Peace Court, Kent County, Delaware;
“How hard it is to be firm and uphold the values and rules when the person in front of you has been so beaten down by life that it makes it feel like you are kicking a poor wounded animal. … Somewhere in the middle you have to find justice.”
Hon. Jeanette L. Umphress, Municipal Court of Yuma County, Arizona;
“You are only as good as your worst hearing.”
Hon. Samuel A. Thumma, Arizona Court of Appeals, Division One; and,
“Never, NEVER go on the bench with a full bladder!”
Hon. Peter H. Wolf, Superior Court, District of Columbia
Spann(ing) The Globe
It may not be the “Constant variety of sports” or the “Human drama of athletic competition” as promised by ABC’s Wide World of Sports, but Jim and Stephanie Spann’s New Harmony Soap Company provides a fun learning experience and great smells. Peg and I now know how to make soap and we have the aromatic masterpieces to prove it.
When Peg told me she had signed us up for a three hour soap-making class for this past Saturday my first thought, which I prudently kept to myself was, “Well, there goes my day off”. It was held at the New Harmony Soap Company on Main Street and was taught by the Doctor of Saponification, Jim Spann.
Saponification is not a misspelling of the great Italian sausage, soppressata, which is what I secretly hoped when Professor Spann started his lecture with the term. Turns out it is an ancient Latin term for soap-making. According to Jim we humans have been trying to remove the grit and maliferous substances from our bodies with homemade soaps since, at least, Babylonian days about 5,000 years ago, probably about the time that human population began to increase.
My first memories of soap-making involve our Pawhuska, Oklahoma neighbor lady, Mrs. Caldwell. I do not know her first name as when I was a child adults did not have first names. Today, complete strangers address everybody by first names and even the President of the United States is “The Donald”. But the demise of polite society is stuff for another column. For now, we are addressing the wonderful world of soap-making.
Whereas Mrs. Caldwell brewed her lye soap in a galvanized tub over an open fire in her yard next door to my family home, Peg and I were carefully and skillfully instructed in the use of electric hot plates and stainless steel pots.
Instead of hours of stirring her concoction of sodium hydroxide, water and lard as Mrs. Caldwell did, Peg and I had the use of electric mixers. And our lard was supplanted with coconut oil, palm oil, sunflower oil and shea butter mixed with distilled water and a cornucopia of interesting scented oils, such as clove, nutmeg, cinnamon, eucalyptus, rosemary, peppermint, etc., etc., etc.
Once I accepted my fate of a Saturday without football or simply vegetating on the couch, my next fear was of falling into the remedial group of soap makers. No problem. The process was so easy even a judge could follow it. Although Peg was always at least one step ahead of me, no one else seemed interested in my progress. It was truly a lot of fun.
If you are looking for something different to do right here in Posey County, I highly recommend the Spann College of Saponification in New Harmony. The New Harmony Soap Company has 4 more soap-making classes coming up; 2 in February and 2 in March. And while I am in no way intimating you might have a need for it, you might smell better too.