Teachers who Prey on Kids
Why they're still going free: vague laws. Weak prosecutors. Indifferent judges. How the criminal justice system fails our children--and how you can make a difference.(Special Report)
Annette Foglino
Full Text COPYRIGHT 2003 � Hearst Communications, Inc. All Rights Reserved
As 12-year-old Jordan Smith walked down the school hallway, she wasn't just nervous, she was terrified. She was about to be questioned by four people: the principal of J.N. Fries Middle School, in Concord, North Carolina; two assistant principals; and the school district's director of human resources. Jordan's crime: claiming that her math teacher had groped her.
Several days before, she had told an assistant principal, "[The teacher] kneeled down and asked me if I needed any help during a test. And then he put his hand very far up my leg under my skirt." In this meeting, Jordan later told a police detective, the adults asked the preteen for a demonstration: Would Jordan please touch the director of human resources--a male--in exactly the same manner the alleged abuser had touched her.
Was Jordan's math teacher guilty? He says no. His license has not been revoked, and the case has not yet come to trial. But whether this particular teacher is guilty isn't the issue. What the case spotlights is that students can be victimized by the investigation itself. As the scene in that school office shows, our system often fails to protect kids--and we need to make changes right now.
Schools close ranks
When principals receive a complaint like Jordan's, North Carolina law is absolutely clear about what they should do: Call the police. Every state has a law that mandates such reporting--people who work with kids must notify authorities about complaints of abuse or molestation.
The officials from Jordan's school not only failed to call the police, they also told the girl's parents not to do so. (It was Jordan's doctor who finally made the call.) Overall, schools earn an F on reporting. For a start, teachers themselves aren't eager to "rat out" fellow staffers. Only 11 percent said they would report a colleague they suspected of sexual abuse to the appropriate child protective agency, according to a 2001 survey. Why the reluctance? Teachers worry they might be mistaken or set off a witch-hunt. But by calling in trained investigators--the next step once proper authorities have been notified--teachers may help to clear wrongfully accused colleagues, say child advocates.
What do schools do instead of calling the authorities? "They set up committees that act like courts and arrive at their own findings," says Randy Burton, founder of Justice for Children, a nonprofit advocacy organization in Houston. The problem is, these committees have no legal authority. And meanwhile, parents are misled into thinking that "all the safeguards are in place," says Burton.
No punishment for silence
To Burton, the solution to stone-walling is obvious: "If a few teachers or administrators had to pay a fine or spend a weekend in jail for failing to notify authorities, we'd see a lot more reporting," he says.
In theory, that's true. But officials who've tried to nail professionals on those grounds say it's tough to pull off. The detective who was finally brought into Jordan Smith's case wondered if the school officials could be prosecuted. But he discovered that North Carolina law carries no criminal penalty for not reporting.
As for the school staff; they didn't believe they had an obligation to report Jordan's allegation because they didn't regard it as molestation. "It's the school's position that this was a possible violation of the sexual harassment code, not a molestation case," says Mark Henriques, attorney for the local school board. In other words, they acted as they did because, in their view, the teacher was being accused of a civil violation, not a crime.
It's extremely rate for prosecutors to pursue educators who fail to report student allegations. One district attorney who recently did--Ron Cleek of Christian County, Missouri--thought that he had the perfect case. It began when a three-year-old who attended a Head Start program told a relative that a man at school had put his fingers inside her "tootie" (the family's term for vagina) during naptime. The relative informed Cynthia Helm, the program's director. Helm, however, did not call authorities. The relative then contacted a child protective agency herself, and one of the Head Start volunteers--a 15-year-old boy--admitted that he had touched the child's genitals.
Confident that the state reporting law had been violated, Cleek charged Helm. But while he was waiting to go to court, a judge in a neighboring county tossed out a similar case, calling the state's mandatory reporting law unconstitutional because the guidelines were too vague. That case is now with the State Supreme Court--and Cleek waits to argue his case against the Head Start director in court.
Getting the real story It takes specialized training to talk to children who've been sexually abused, says Barbara Brown, executive director of the Child Advocacy Center in Springfield, Missouri. Do it wrong, and a case can fall apart (not to mention the damage the child may suffer). Brown recalls a dreadful situation in a nearby county. A young student was interviewed by five adults all at once: the school nurse, his teacher, his parents, and--unbelievably--the alleged perpetrator. Overwhelmed, the poor kid backed off from his claim that the staff member had touched him, telling the group he'd just been teasing. But when a social worker from the Division of Family Services questioned the boy, he stuck to his original story.
Good thing he had the chance to talk to a skilled investigator: The perpetrator, it turned out, was a registered sex offender.
Only about a third of frontline personnel--social workers, police, and prosecutors--have the right training, says Victor Vieth, director of the National Center for Prosecution of Child Abuse. And that situation is not likely to improve: Congress has not increased funding for the group's training program (the country's largest) in 17 years.
Frustrated DAs
Sex abuse cases are notoriously tough to prosecute. Children's accounts call be muddled. There's rarely physical evidence. And abusers can be shrewd in their choice of victims, often picking kids who lack the self-esteem to make sturdy witnesses. A traumatized child may develop emotional problems or turn to drugs or alcohol--behavior that helps a defense attorney undercut the kid's credibility on the stand.
DAs tend to be pragmatists: They'll choose to plea-bargain with an abuser rather than risk going to trial and having the offender walk. "At least with a plea, he'll have a record, be registered in the system, and lose his job," says Joe Owmby, an assistant district attorney in Harris County, Texas.
Sounds like a reasonable compromise, but too often, plea bargains don't go that way. At the end of negotiations, the charge is frequently minimal (maybe only a misdemeanor), as is the punishment (sometimes just probation). Then, with no criminal record to raise alarms on a background check, the offender is back in a classroom.
Running out of time
Victims have only so many years--sometimes as few as two--to bring charges against an abuser. But kids who've been molested may be too scared or ashamed to say anything. Or they don't find the strength to come forward until another victim speaks up. By then, the statute of limitations may have run out.
That's why New York City biology teacher Richard Plass was charged in only one case. (In court, Plass admitted showing a girl pornographic videos and Interact sites, ,as well as exposing himself to her and touching her genitals.) Other students had complained about Plass, but the police were never informed. By the time this 15-year-old spoke up, it was too late for those other students to file charges. Plass plea-bargained his way to a sentence of three years' probation, was registered as a sex offender, and was barred from ever teaching in New York City again.
Confusion in court
Generally, judges and juries do the right thing. If sex abusers stand trial and are found guilty, sentences tend to be heavy, says Randy Burton. But there can be disappointments. Just ask Jordan Smith, who feared her case would be derailed by a judge's ruling last June. After she came forward, three other girls made allegations against the same teacher. The police talked to former and current students and found several complaints of inappropriate touching, some going back five years.
Eventually the teacher was charged with nine counts of taking indecent liberties with a minor. But during the first trial--a case involving a student a few years older than Jordan--the judge dismissed the charge. "We were concerned when he didn't allow certain girls to testify," says Deb Black, mother of one of the four who set off the investigation. "But it never occurred to us that he wouldn't give the jury a chance to decide."
Will Jordan and the others get to tell their stories in court? Under the North Carolina system, judges rotate through different counties; the DA, knowing she will be able to argue before a new judge, plans to go forward.
As case after case emerges around the country, it's clear that it will take more than headlines to keep predatory teachers away from children. Most are repeat offenders; once the publicity of a case dies down, they move on and find new victims--unless there's a system to stop them. It's up to society to create that system--a network of schools, prosecutors, judges, and lawmakers who will work to protect kids, not the predators waiting to harm them.
GH investigates
In a special report last May (see above), GH revealed how teachers who've been accused or convicted of sexual abuse are routinely passed from school to school, with clean records, even positive recommendations. More than 6,000 readers responded, many expressing outrage and asking what could be done. In this second part of our report, we look beyond the schools to the legal system, showing where it falls short and offering ways parents can become involved to strengthen laws and protect kids
What you can do
In 18 states, all adults are required by law to notify the authorities if they suspect child sexual abuse or if someone makes a complaint--and in all 50 states, teachers and school administrators must make such reports. The problem: These laws are not being enforced. Here's how to change that.
Join the PTA, visit the school board. Put administrators on notice that you are aware of the mandatory reporting laws and that you expect them to be followed.
Lobby lawmakers. Demand that there be penalties for school officials who don't obey reporting laws. Of, if your state law already calls for penalties, demand that police and district attorneys enforce them.
Call the hotline yourself. If you suspect that a child has been the victim of sexual abuse, notify the police or child protective services in your community. If you're acting in good faith, you're protected from any civil lawsuits or criminal penalties if it turns out you were mistaken.
