Bringing Jake Home

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From the author: This story is a work of fiction. Jake represents all of the youth who pass through the various foster parent programs every day, the addicted babies, the abused children, and the troubled and abandoned kids. Let Rachel and Leo, and later on, Jake and Julie, represent all of those noble and caring foster parents who care for, aid, and guide their young charges.

In these 50 states, laws concerning child abuse and adoption vary widely, as do the titles and duties of the various Department of Social and Health Services (DSHS) and their component departments, Child Protective Services (CPS) and Child Welfare Services (CWS) around the country. If the laws and the various departments don't fit the way your state does it just consider that in their wisdom your voters and politicians decided to do it differently.

Also consider that we're dealing with the laws, regulations, departments, and duties that existed in the early 1970's, and finally, that I have a vivid imagination. I have the honor to know a retired judge who actually performed the duties of Judge Micah Brown in the story and his aid in straightening me out and trying to keep me honest was enormous.

Sgt. Ken Burns of the city police immediately put his long legs into the run mode as he headed for the porch. Following immediately behind him was his partner, Cpl. Isabella (Izzy) Davis who being of a much shorter stature, had a difficult time keeping up with him as he bounded up the steps.

He loudly rapped on the door, and in a voice that would brook no hesitation or refusal, demanded, 'Police, open up. ' His loud voice and heavy raps seemed to have an effect as the voices from within suddenly ceased. The door was shortly thrown open and an angry woman stood in the doorway demanding, 'What the hell do you want,' in a shrill angry voice.

Burns drew all 6'3' of his tall lanky body to attention and in his most authoritative voice spoke in a clear bone-chilling tone, 'Madam, step back, we're coming in. ' This demand was instantly responded to with another shrill reply, 'Not without a search warrant your not. ' Pulling the screen door open, Sgt.

Burns started to enter, even as he informed the woman, 'Under state law I'm not only coming in, the law demands it if we have reason to believe a person is in physical danger, and especially, a minor child, as was reported to us. ' Stepping back to avoid being run over by Sgt. Davis, the woman screeched, 'Report, what report?' Answering her own question she blurted out, 'I'll bet it's that bitch Stella Campbell.

That fat slut busybody has always had it in for me. ' Standing in the living room and looking about, the two peace officers would have been appalled at the scene before them if they hadn't seen the same carnage many times in domestic disturbance cases during their years of law enforcement duty.

The living room had the appearance of a battle zone, chairs were laying on their sides, the coffee table was stripped clean, its contents strewn around the room, and several pictures lay on the floor, with broken glass surrounding the frames and photos. What did appall them was the sight of the humans in the room.

. . . .