As one of many Parkland Memorial Hospital nurses who have volunteered to care for critically ill COVID-19 patients, 23-year-old Hannah Pearson is at the heart of an urgent and unknown fight. But not even a deadly pandemic can deter Pearson from her other lifesaving work: Keeping tabs on two sweet little kids passed from one household to the next since they were bounced into the foster-care system a year ago.
When Pearson’s not pulling her overnight shift in the ICU, this courageous young woman works as one of about 1,500 volunteers in Dallas CASA — Court Appointed Special Advocates — who are trying to maintain their watch over vulnerable youngsters at a time when social distancing makes it all but impossible to lay eyes on them.
These are children placed in foster care by Child Protective Services after physical or sexual abuse, abandonment or severe neglect in their own homes. Overnight, and often with only a few belongings shoved into a trash bag, they have lost everything familiar — home, family, friends and school. For months, if not years, their CASA volunteer will be their only constant.
Now, with the heightened stress that COVID-19 has put on families living in tight quarters, the lifelines offered by volunteers like Pearson have never been more important.
Dallas County has yet to see an increase in child abuse cases in the weeks since the first local coronavirus cases were reported in early March, but the statistics in Tarrant County are staggering. Eight children have been admitted to Cook Children’s Medical Center in Fort Worth for injuries related to child abuse since March 17, and three of those youngsters died, according to the hospital, which typically sees six child abuse deaths a year.
“We can’t say for certain if the effects of COVID-19 are driving this increase. All we can do right now is sound the alarm about what we are seeing,” said Jamye Coffman, medical director of the hospital’s Center for Prevention of Child Abuse and Neglect.
“It’s a scary situation for kids,” Kathleen LaValle, Dallas CASA president and CEO, told me. The 2008 economic recession led to an increase in child abuse, but this time the economic stress is amped up by health fears and the loss of routines.
In ordinary times, unofficial guardians of children — teachers, school nurses and child care workers who recognize changes in behavior or spot unexplained injuries — are often the best hope for those living in precarious circumstances. “When our schools are closed, that means there are less caring and concerned eyes on our children,” LaValle said.
Courts are still approving emergency placements, but fewer children are being removed from homes and fewer hotline referrals are being made, she said. “But that doesn’t mean fewer children are being neglected or injured.”
Instead, Dallas CASA anticipates a spike in removals when shelter in place ends and schools are back in session.
That grim reality is why, even with her assignment to a Parkland ICU devoted to coronavirus, Pearson insisted on keeping her CASA assignment with the two young children who have come to trust her.
“I see my kids have to deal with a ton of strangers, and it’s nice to at least be a familiar face for them because they don’t just move homes, they move schools and doctors and therapists,” she told me. “That’s very overwhelming for children.”
After completing her CASA training a year ago, Pearson was assigned a case involving an 8-year-old and a toddler; she has been at their side through multiple placements. They’ve lived in an emergency shelter, a foster home, a family member’s residence, their mother’s home and are now in another relative’s house, where their mother also lives.
Pearson has been the constant in the chaos, visiting them regularly, consulting with their doctors and therapists, and attending their court hearings and supervised visits with family members.
She believes the children are doing well at present, especially because they have both their mother and the support of other family members. But checking on their well-being as closely as Pearson would like is a challenge.
She makes regular calls to the mother and two other family members, plus she talks a lot by phone with the 8-year-old. “He’s a really smart kid — we have built a great relationship — and he sounds just like he always does,” she told me.
Earlier this month, Pearson dropped off Easter baskets and a birthday gift for the children — but not before first wiping down all the surfaces with Lysol wipes. Once she got back into her car, she called the house and watched the kids’ delight when they opened the door and discovered the treats.
“We’re not having any contact, of course, but they were so adorable. I wish I could have videoed it,” she said.
Pearson, who has been a nurse at Parkland for almost two years, talked with me by phone after she finished up one of her overnight shifts. She acknowledged the coronavirus work is high-stress but said she’s the perfect candidate for it: “I’m young, single and live alone so I wouldn’t be risking the health of family in my home if I contract it.”
A nursing-school field trip during Pearson’s studies at the University of Texas at Tyler introduced her to CASA. But even as a teen in Granbury, she often thought about kids who might be in unsafe home situations.
“CASA was a way to help and be a light in these kids’ situations and show them that they mattered and they are loved and they can become more than what’s happened to them,” she said.
Dallas CASA, founded in 1980, worked with more than 3,600 kids last year. The nonprofit, whose volunteers serve more children than any other of the 900-plus CASAs nationwide, tries to keep enough folks in the pipeline so every child removed from a home is immediately assigned an advocate.
Once kids go into the legal custody of Child Protective Services, they generally wind up with a foster family or placed with a relative or close family friend. Others go to residential treatment centers, hospital psychiatric wards or emergency shelters.
CASA volunteers have two jobs: Create a bond that helps the child feel less lonely and forgotten and serve as the on-the-ground information-gatherer for judges so the court can make the best possible decisions.
Before each hearing, Dallas CASA files a report with its latest updates and recommendations; the CASA volunteer also gives testimony related to the child’s needs.
During this unprecedented shelter-in-place existence, LaValle said, advocates are doing even more to help families with material needs — making grocery runs, providing diapers and formula, and delivering meals. One volunteer contributed 150 face masks for the investigators who respond to reports of abuse and neglect.
Given the expected surge of kids moving into protective care once schools open, Dallas CASA can’t ever relax its volunteer-recruiting efforts. So once social distancing became a fact of life, the nonprofit moved its weekly information sessions online.
The eight-class training regimen for advocates — who come from all over North Texas — also just moved into a new e-learning format so CASA can continue filling its volunteer pipeline amid the pandemic.
“As soon as a volunteer graduates from training, that person is assigned a case,” LaValle said. Advocates partner with one of Dallas CASA’s 65 staff supervisors who offer guidance and go with them on initial visits and hearings.
The average tenure of a CASA volunteer is three years, but 12 months into her volunteer job, Pearson — even after another hard night in the coronavirus ICU — is enthusiastic about being on the case for kids for much longer: “I don’t ever want to leave it. … I wouldn’t want to not be able to bring everything I could to the table for a child. But I don’t see myself leaving anytime soon.”
To learn more about becoming a Dallas CASA volunteer, check out their website for the next online information session.
