Column: Line between kid stuff and abuse can be hard to see
Published 12:00 am Saturday, March 9, 2002
It was moving day.
Saturday, March 09, 2002
It was moving day. The house was a mess of boxes, newspapers and cleaning supplies. The Ryder truck was pulled up on the lawn as a light drizzle started falling. Six or seven people were scrambilng around – some helping us finish the last-minute packing and others starting to load boxes and furniture on to the truck. We used blankets and tablecloths to cover our posessions so they didn’t get wet outside.
It was the kind of chaos that can encourage you not to move at all; you’d rather stay put than deal with it.
Well, in all the confusion, something was probably bound to happen to Jimmy, our then-one-year-old son, who had recently learned to walk and was getting pretty good at slipping away and finding himself in trouble.
Sure enough, after a trip to the truck with some goods in hand, I turned around to head back down the ramp and get something else. I saw Jimmy standing at the top of the concrete stoop just outside our house. I immediately knew that if he took one more step forward, he would tumble down the step onto the walk. I knew it wouldn’t be pretty.
I yelled for someone to grab him, but it was too late. He took a step forward, oblivious to the drop, and fell head-over-heels onto the concrete. He howled as three or four people rushed over to pick him up.
That’s how it came to be that for the first month of my family’s life in Albert Lea, our young son had some nasty cuts and bruises on his forehead and face.
Every time he was introduced to somebody we met in Albert Lea, I cringed a little. &uot;They’re going to see this kid’s face and wonder what we do to him,&uot; I thought.
Most parents have probably had that feeling. Kids get bumped and bruised all the time. Everybody knows that. But at the same time, everyone is afraid somebody else won’t believe the story. Some doctor, or some neighbor, or somebody else won’t belive it.
That’s why I don’t know what to make of the arguments we’ve been hearing and reading lately, as everyone relives Makaio Radke’s awful story. &uot;Why didn’t they notice the signs of abuse ahead of time? Why didn’t they do something? How could a social worker have been at the house that day and not have prevented the terrible things that happened just a few hours later?&uot;
These are questions we have all probably asked. When something so brutal happens, people want answers.
And it’s important that we get answers. If a tragedy such as this can serve any purpose, it’s to make all of us more vigilant in trying to prevent another tragedy. In our free and open society, we hold the system accountable with public dialogue. We influence the culture and the law by talking these things out and trying to reach conclusions.
I am not saying anybody has been wrong to question how this could have happened. But what I will say is that after seeing my own son’s bruises and cuts over the last few years, I can see how somebody could see a few bumps and scrapes on a child and not know what to make of it. Imagine how hard it must be to make the call – is this really a case of abuse, or just regular childhood stuff?
The excruciating thing for all of us – and certainly for the county employees and police involved more than anyone – is that hindsight made everything clear, but it was too late.
Child abuse is one of the toughest isues to deal with. It’s vitally important for society to protect the innocent, the kids who are trapped in abusive situations. It’s also crucial that the system doesn’t infringe upon the liberty afforded us in the constitution. If the county or state were quicker on the draw to take people’s kids away, would we really like that? How would we feel when they started making mistakes?
It’s the same line we now must walk between protecting ourselves against terrorists and keeping our civil liberties intact. If we overreact and turn overprotective, we find ourselves in a country that isn’t wat it was supposed to be.
This is the thin line we must walk, and although we will stumble, it’s the line we must keep walking.
Dylan Belden is the Tribune’s managing editor. His column appears Sundays.