Many Haven kids still far from home

Terance, a 5-year-old crammed into pajamas two sizes too small and stinky shoes, was sound asleep when Christina Wolfe arrived at the hospital.

She had never expected to see him again.

Terance, once her foster child, had just been left at an emergency room by his guardian under Nebraska's safe haven law.

After a late-night call last November, Wolfe rushed to the hospital, scooped up the boy and took him home — this time, she hopes, for good.

Terance is one of the 36 children with the unfortunate distinction of having been left at hospitals under the earliest version of the law, which allowed adults to drop off children of any age without being prosecuted for a crime. The first drop-offs happened a year ago today.

Terance's story appears to be one headed for a happy ending, even though it's now clear that he, like most of the children, will not go home.

In 11 of the 20 cases where children were placed in Nebraska foster care, parents and guardians either have relinquished their rights or ignored court proceedings. In two additional cases, judges halted efforts to reunify families because of parents' lack of effort.

It will never be known if some families would have stayed together with better or earlier access to services. In the wake of the controversy over mostly adolescents being dropped off, the Legislature limited the law to infants and created or expanded several programs to help families.

“There was a lot of discussion around safe haven, and I think it was healthy discussion,” said Todd Reckling, the new director of children and family services for the Nebraska Department of Health and Human Services.

Family advocates say even though this avenue into the system has been closed, not enough help exists for such troubled adolescents.

“In spite of the pain and suffering of these children, we can't point to anything that would guarantee any of those situations would be handled differently today,” said Kathy Bigsby Moore of Voices for Children in Nebraska.

Half of the safe haven children, including Terance, now live with relatives or foster families that plan to keep them, with adoptions and guardianships in the works or finished.

Other bright spots:

Ÿ A high school athlete who graduated last spring soon will join the military.

Ÿ Nine children, left by a widowed father, will be raised in familiar homes: two with a former foster parent and the rest with an aunt.

Ÿ A teenage girl improved her grades and outlook with family friends as her foster parents. A judge complimented her in court: “We see a totally different young lady now.”

Terance — now 6, and the second-youngest child left under the law — remembers how he felt when he woke up back in his foster family's airy living room in west Omaha.

“Happy.”

***

Terance has been raised by at least three sets of parents in his six years.

In 2004, when he was 16 months old, his mother reportedly asked a woman to watch him in a Wal-Mart parking lot in North Carolina after begging for grocery money. The mother never returned, and the woman, Melyssa Cowburn, became his legal guardian.

“He was like this miracle who had come into my life,” Cowburn said in an interview shortly after using the safe haven law.

She struggled, however, to handle the toddler's screaming fits, food hoarding and aggression. Cowburn often took care of him alone while her husband was overseas in the military. The family moved to Bellevue, Neb., and then to Waterloo, Iowa.

In 2007, Cowburn tried to overdose on prescription pills at her mother's Omaha apartment, saying Terance was too much to handle alone, court records say.

Terance was made a Nebraska state ward but allowed to live at home after Cowburn agreed to therapy and support services.

When her follow-through was erratic, Terance was put in a foster home.

***

Gavin and Christina Wolfe first became foster parents “to use a gift we had to be a blessing to someone else,” as Gavin says. The couple, who celebrate their 24th anniversary Monday, have two girls: Ally, who turns 18 today, and Olivia, 14.

They attend Brookside, an Evangelical Free Church, where Gavin works as a maintenance man. Christina cleans houses.

With no previous experience with foster children, the Wolfes nearly quit after the first one, taken aback by the child's defiance and manipulation.

But with encouragement and support from their foster agency, Visinet, they continued and haven't regretted raising about a dozen foster children in their west Omaha home.

In 2007, Terance, then 4, came into their home with only the clothes he was wearing, running uncontrollably, unfocused and unmedicated, the Wolfes said.

“Wild as could be,” Gavin said.

“Oh, my goodness,” Christina said.

The family fell in love with the boy's big heart and clever lines, calling him a miniature Will Smith. He'd strike a Spider-Man pose and say, “You wanna piece of me?”

Terance calmed down with a combination of therapy, medication and a special day care for children with behavioral disorders. The Wolfes got him on a regular schedule, which they had learned gives foster children structure and security.

After five months, a judge decided to reunite Terance with his guardian and her husband, who were moving to Washington state.

One day in November 2007, after Christina had left Terance at day care, the HHS caseworker told her his guardian would take him home that night.

The Wolfes never got to say goodbye.

If Terance ever came back to foster care, Christina told the caseworker, they wanted him.

They never expected that might actually happen.

***

Terance's troubles continued in his family's new home after the March 2008 move.

Cowburn, through her attorney, recently declined to comment, but said previously that he kicked holes in walls, injured pets and broke her nose. She said she struggled to get him authorized for a residential program.

After the boy set a fire and flooded the apartment, Cowburn flew him to Nebraska a year after he had returned to her.

Some notes in medical records about witnessing aggressive behavior support some of Cowburn's comments, but other medical professionals thought the guardians might have triggered his outbursts. The Wolfes say they have never seen that type of behavior from Terance. Rambunctious, yes. Destructive, no.

After leaving Terance under safe haven at Omaha's Immanuel Medical Center, Cowburn came to initial court hearings, then bowed out and ignored requests for Terance's toys and photos, an HHS caseworker said in court.

Attorneys are navigating cross-country custody laws, with a biological mother apparently in North Carolina, the guardian in Washington and a Nebraska judge overseeing the case.

The Wolfes have decided to adopt Terance. “We just couldn't let him go again,” Gavin said.

During a spring court hearing, Terance, in a Spider-Man T-shirt with a blinking logo, zoomed a spaceship through the air.

“Do you like books?” Douglas County Juvenile Court Judge Douglas Johnson asked. “I've got a couple of books just for you.”

“Where?” Terance asked.

The judge stood. Adults nudged Terance forward.

“These are for you,” the judge said, leaning over to hand him the books.

Terance, with no prompting, responded, “Thank you.”

***

Every afternoon, Gavin walks up the street, strolling past the house where he grew up, to escort Terance home from school.

A year ago, Terance was kicked out of kindergarten for choking a classmate.

Now back in kindergarten, he's working hard at sitting in class. Terance prefers Sunday school, because it's only an hour. “When are we going to that Jesus school?” he asks.

In the Wolfes' backyard, Gavin rocks in a patio chair and keeps an eye on Terance as the boy unleashes energy pent up from a day of sitting still.

Terance manhandles two homemade tree swings, twists the ropes, climbs, drags himself underneath the swing. He sprints, jumps off a picnic table, pauses for swigs of iced tea.

Hints of his troubled past surface at times, the Wolfes say.

He sometimes steals food before breakfast, gets anxious during play wrestling and spooked during hugs. His therapist says those reactions should pass with time.

Parked at the picnic table, Terance snacks on pizza and green grapes sliced in half. Neighbor kids hang on the fence asking to play, but Terance has to go to the psychiatrist.

“He's got to make sure all your medicines are good,” Christina explains.

“I'm healthy,” Terance says. “I don't need my blood pressure. You can tell him that.”

They cut a deal: If Terance eats his snack, he can meet the kids later at the neighborhood water park. “All riiiiight,” he agrees.

He assures his friends, “Don't worry. I'll be back after the doctor.”

Then he asks, “Can I wear my swim trunks to Dr. Coy's?”

Contact the writer:

444-1208, karyn.spencer@owh.com

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