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 One Child's Story
"To give a child a CASA is to give them a voice. To give them a voice is to give them hope, and to give them hope is to give them the world. I believe that with all my heart."
Abused as a child, Pamela Butler lived between foster care and her own troubled home. Things finally got so bad that she attempted suicide. With help from her CASA volunteer, she is now a college student with a bright future.
PAMELA'S STORY, IN HER OWN WORDS
The police arrived to take me away from my family when I was seven years old. Foster homes came and went. Schools were here and there. Caseworkers drifted in and out of my life. I had just moved from an awful six-year placement with alcoholics when the court appointed me a CASA volunteer.
That summer I had a court hearing, and the judge sent me home. Not to the foster home I had quickly come to love but to my mother. My CASA, Pat, didn't recommend that I go home, and I didn't want to go home, but the judge said, "You are young and you don't know what's best for you."
My mother arrived that night. I opened the door and stood looking at her. I knew she was my mom. I loved her and didn't want to hurt her, but I didn't want her life. I wanted something better for my future.
"I'm not leaving with you," was all I said.
The next morning my caseworker came and demanded I go home with my mom. I entered my mother's apartment and went straight to my room. There was a bed with no blankets, a closet overflowing with trash, and a dresser against one wall. The carpet was littered with cigarette ashes and the entire apartment reeked of smoke, waste, and mildew. I lay down on the mattress and cried.
Pamela and others recount their stories on camera (6 min).
My CASA Steps In
Pat came to see me quite often and called me when she couldn't come in person. She worked with my lawyer to appeal the court's decision.
Pat was there for me the entire way, advocating for visits with my old foster family, making sure I was seeing my therapist regularly, and checking with my teachers to make sure I was managing in school. She brought me newspaper clippings of youth who made it through hard times and of students who were able to get scholarships to cover their educations. She told me things can only get better, and that I just needed to hang in there 'til they do.
I never had someone stand up for me like she did. She stood before the judge, the lawyers, my mother, and caseworkers and wasn't swayed by their opinions. It completely amazed me. I trusted her more with every visit and every call and found myself enjoying her check-ups and questioning. She became not only an advocate, but a friend I could truly count on.
Attempting Suicide
The summer of my second year home, I went out of town for a night with my best friend. My mom called early the next morning and was yelling before I even had the phone to my ear. Although we had never discussed when I would return, she said she had reported me as a runaway and that the police were coming to take me to juvenile hall. I couldn't believe she would be so crazy!
She was still yelling when I got home so I went straight to my room and locked the door. She stood yelling through it, saying that I had better be packing because the police were on their way. While I stood crying, I noticed something on my shelf - my medications. They couldn't take me if I was dying could they? I grabbed all the pills I could find and some old water from my nightstand and sat on my bed. I heard pounding up the stairs and then on my door.
"I just came to tell you that your sister called the police on you again." my mother growled. "She reported you as a runaway too."
"How can she do that when I am SITTING ON MY OWN BED!" I screamed. "Well," she replied, "if you think someone might run away, you can report it." That was all the push I needed. One by one I began taking the pills. There was knocking on my door again. It was my sister this time.
"Matthew and Albert are here if you want to come down and see them," she said.
"What?! Why would I want to see them?" I yelled at her. "They are not supposed to be ANYWHERE NEAR ME. THE JUDGE SAID SO!!" Those two men were the reason we all had been taken away in the first place. I could not believe she would be so blind.
Calling on My CASA
I started crying. I was so afraid. I didn't really want to die; I just wanted out. That's all. Out. I could only think of one person to call for help. I snuck quietly out of my room, slipped into the next room, and dialed Pat's number. She was calm and steady when she asked questions. She called poison control on her other line, and, as I waited for a response, my mom stormed into the room.
"What are you doing? Calling and telling them what a big, bad mom I am? Well, I have a few things I could tell them…"
I cut her off before she could finish. "No, actually I am talking to Pat who is trying to figure out if the pills I just took are going to kill me," I said evenly.
"I cannot believe this! Get in the car. I'm taking you to the ER right now," she exclaimed.
I sat in the front seat, hardly able to keep my head up, trying to keep the saliva in my mouth, occasionally wiping it with the back of my hand. I couldn't keep my eyes open any longer. I let them close as I swam in the mist, listening to my mother's raving…then, I didn't even hear her.
I was admitted to the hospital immediately and drilled with questions as nurses hooked me up to an IV and stuck wires to my back and chest.
Light at the End of the Tunnel
Pat called me the next day and we began to plan what would be my final move. She took care of all the phone calls to the lawyers, the court, and the caseworker. Two weeks later, I moved into my eighth home and since then life has been amazing.
My CASA volunteer is still a big part of my life. She still brings newspaper clippings of youth who have had rough lives. I talk to her often and even visit her at her office now and then. She helped me find money to pay for all of the activities I was involved in senior year, so that I wouldn't have to work all the time and could have, "the best senior year ever," as she said. And I did. I really did.
She was my mentor for my Senior Quest project and even attended my graduation from high school. With her encouragement, I applied for and received scholarships to pay for more than four years of college. I am now an intern at the Oregon Commission on Children and Families, working with the state CASA coordinator on some wonderful projects. I want to make a difference for children still lost in the sea of the child welfare system. I hope to be the change I want to see in the world, as Ghandi once said.
I was later invited with my CASA and a few others to a meeting with the Governor. Then I testified to a state legislative committee. At the end of the testimony I said: "To give a child a CASA is to give them a voice. To give them a voice is to give them hope, and to give them hope is to give them the world." I believe that with all my heart.
For more information about CASA, to become an advocate, or to support CASA's work, visit www.nationalCASA.org.
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