News (Media Awareness Project) - US NJ: Before an Infant's Cries Were Stifled, Alarms Went |
Title: | US NJ: Before an Infant's Cries Were Stifled, Alarms Went |
Published On: | 2003-01-19 |
Source: | New York Times (NY) |
Fetched On: | 2008-01-21 14:07:34 |
BEFORE AN INFANT'S CRIES WERE STIFLED, ALARMS WENT UNHEARD
PASSAIC, N.J. - BEFORE Faheem Williams, there was Elliot Burgos.
The death of 3-month-old Elliot, crushed in his crib by his crack-addicted
father here in November 2000, provoked little outcry compared with the
recent Williams case in Newark. But perhaps it should have.
Two years before Faheem's body was found in a plastic container in a
basement, Elliot's murder could have sounded the alarm about trouble in New
Jersey's child welfare agency that officials say they finally hear.
In Newark, caseworkers stopped looking for Faheem and his two brothers, who
were discovered emaciated, despite an unresolved abuse complaint. In
Passaic, caseworkers failed to heed the call - or many calls.
Maria Matos tried to get their attention. A practical nurse, mother of four
and a foster parent, Mrs. Matos lives in an immaculate house near where
Joeliott Burgos, 19, and Aris Rodriguez, 20, rented a room. Mrs. Matos met
them through her church in September 2000, when they asked her to baby-sit
one night for Elliot, then a month old, and their year-old son, Zabdiele.
But the couple disappeared for almost three weeks. Mrs. Matos sensed that
they were drug users and their children, dirty and poorly dressed, were
neglected. She feared Elliot's bruised, misshapen left cheek was a sign of
abuse.
She didn't know the children, but decided, "If they're part of my family,
I'm going to take care of them."
Mrs. Matos said she called the state's Division of Youth and Family
Services, DYFS, at least four times. But caseworkers challenged her and
declined to visit the boys.
When she said the parents appeared to use drugs, Mrs. Matos said a worker
responded, "a lot of people could have allergies and red eyes." When she
told another worker the parents had abandoned their children, "he said they
really didn't abandon them because they left them with a responsible person."
Mrs. Matos had them examined at a Paterson hospital, where she said a
social worker also called the agency. Nothing happened.
"I wanted them to come here and check the kids," she said. "I was afraid
the parents would come here and ask for the kids, and I knew they were in
danger."
When the parents reclaimed their children in October, Mrs. Matos called
child welfare and other authorities, but was told she could be accused of
kidnapping unless she returned them. She gave the couple a crib and hoped
for the best. "I had a feeling nothing good was going to come," she said.
Finally, a caseworker visited the reunited family. The couple denied using
drugs and said Elliot bruised his cheek sleeping on a pacifier, law
enforcement officials said. A drug test was ordered, but the couple never
complied.
THE night of Nov. 14, said Walter Dewey, a Passaic County prosecutor, Mr.
Burgos was angry about the quality of crack he had bought, and annoyed by
Elliot's crying.
"He was crying a lot and it made me mad," Mr. Burgos told investigators. He
muffled him with blankets. Then he covered him with a child car seat. "I
took the car seat, flipped it over, put it on the boy, holding him down,"
he said.
He fractured Elliot's skull, broke a leg and cracked a rib. Not until
morning did anyone realize he was dead.
Elliot's death barely caused a ripple in the child welfare world. Mr.
Burgos, charged with killing Elliot and punching his older son, pleaded
guilty to aggravated manslaughter and received a 20-year prison sentence.
Ms. Rodriguez received eight years for child endangerment.
Mrs. Matos had previously told her story only to child welfare officials,
who met with her after Elliot's death. "They all said they were sorry," she
said. "I said, `That is something I don't want to hear because if DYFS was
doing its job, the baby would still be alive.' "
A caseworker was disciplined for mishandling calls about the case, said Joe
Delmar, a division spokesman. "No major policy changes were made as a
result of the death," he said.
Sadly, officials said, there are more cases like these than the public
knows. Since 1998, 77 children who were the subject of either open or
closed child welfare cases have died of abuse or neglect.
"I don't want to trivialize these deaths," said Anthony D'Urso, chairman of
the state's Child Fatality and Near Fatality Review Board. "These cases
happen all the time. They fly under the radar screen for whatever reason."
Dr. D'Urso said he did not remember Elliot Burgos's death among so many
others. "As sad as that statement is," he said, "that's true."
PASSAIC, N.J. - BEFORE Faheem Williams, there was Elliot Burgos.
The death of 3-month-old Elliot, crushed in his crib by his crack-addicted
father here in November 2000, provoked little outcry compared with the
recent Williams case in Newark. But perhaps it should have.
Two years before Faheem's body was found in a plastic container in a
basement, Elliot's murder could have sounded the alarm about trouble in New
Jersey's child welfare agency that officials say they finally hear.
In Newark, caseworkers stopped looking for Faheem and his two brothers, who
were discovered emaciated, despite an unresolved abuse complaint. In
Passaic, caseworkers failed to heed the call - or many calls.
Maria Matos tried to get their attention. A practical nurse, mother of four
and a foster parent, Mrs. Matos lives in an immaculate house near where
Joeliott Burgos, 19, and Aris Rodriguez, 20, rented a room. Mrs. Matos met
them through her church in September 2000, when they asked her to baby-sit
one night for Elliot, then a month old, and their year-old son, Zabdiele.
But the couple disappeared for almost three weeks. Mrs. Matos sensed that
they were drug users and their children, dirty and poorly dressed, were
neglected. She feared Elliot's bruised, misshapen left cheek was a sign of
abuse.
She didn't know the children, but decided, "If they're part of my family,
I'm going to take care of them."
Mrs. Matos said she called the state's Division of Youth and Family
Services, DYFS, at least four times. But caseworkers challenged her and
declined to visit the boys.
When she said the parents appeared to use drugs, Mrs. Matos said a worker
responded, "a lot of people could have allergies and red eyes." When she
told another worker the parents had abandoned their children, "he said they
really didn't abandon them because they left them with a responsible person."
Mrs. Matos had them examined at a Paterson hospital, where she said a
social worker also called the agency. Nothing happened.
"I wanted them to come here and check the kids," she said. "I was afraid
the parents would come here and ask for the kids, and I knew they were in
danger."
When the parents reclaimed their children in October, Mrs. Matos called
child welfare and other authorities, but was told she could be accused of
kidnapping unless she returned them. She gave the couple a crib and hoped
for the best. "I had a feeling nothing good was going to come," she said.
Finally, a caseworker visited the reunited family. The couple denied using
drugs and said Elliot bruised his cheek sleeping on a pacifier, law
enforcement officials said. A drug test was ordered, but the couple never
complied.
THE night of Nov. 14, said Walter Dewey, a Passaic County prosecutor, Mr.
Burgos was angry about the quality of crack he had bought, and annoyed by
Elliot's crying.
"He was crying a lot and it made me mad," Mr. Burgos told investigators. He
muffled him with blankets. Then he covered him with a child car seat. "I
took the car seat, flipped it over, put it on the boy, holding him down,"
he said.
He fractured Elliot's skull, broke a leg and cracked a rib. Not until
morning did anyone realize he was dead.
Elliot's death barely caused a ripple in the child welfare world. Mr.
Burgos, charged with killing Elliot and punching his older son, pleaded
guilty to aggravated manslaughter and received a 20-year prison sentence.
Ms. Rodriguez received eight years for child endangerment.
Mrs. Matos had previously told her story only to child welfare officials,
who met with her after Elliot's death. "They all said they were sorry," she
said. "I said, `That is something I don't want to hear because if DYFS was
doing its job, the baby would still be alive.' "
A caseworker was disciplined for mishandling calls about the case, said Joe
Delmar, a division spokesman. "No major policy changes were made as a
result of the death," he said.
Sadly, officials said, there are more cases like these than the public
knows. Since 1998, 77 children who were the subject of either open or
closed child welfare cases have died of abuse or neglect.
"I don't want to trivialize these deaths," said Anthony D'Urso, chairman of
the state's Child Fatality and Near Fatality Review Board. "These cases
happen all the time. They fly under the radar screen for whatever reason."
Dr. D'Urso said he did not remember Elliot Burgos's death among so many
others. "As sad as that statement is," he said, "that's true."
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