I was distracting myself on facebook and stumbled upon a name that immediately made my stomach drop. It took me back to middle school and to one of my biggest regrets. I have never been more angry with myself for anything to this day.
It was 8th grade and I was friends with a kid I'll call Scott. Scott came to me one day, upset and angry. Apparently his dad beat him frequently and had hit him for what Scott said was going to be the last time. He told me that his dad has two grand hidden under his bed and that he was going to steal it and take a bus to Chicago.
Being way more rational and intuitive than most of my peers at the time, I immediately tried to brainstorm an alternative with him. I knew that $2,000 wasn't going to get him very far and that he couldn't get a real job, place to stay, or even rent a hotel room at the age of 13. That two grand wouldn't last him two weeks. The prospect of him running off to Chicago scared me almost as much as him staying with his father. I tried to come up with a place that he could go, like moving in with a relative. He vetoed all of my ideas saying that his dad would find him there and that things would just get worse for him. Then I asked him why he didn't just go to the cops or someone who could make the abuse stop. Once again he was convinced that his dad would just find this all the more reason to hit him. Scott was bound and determined to leave the next day for Chicago.
I spent the next three class periods trying to come up with someway to help him. I wanted him out of that house and I didn't want him to attempt to run away. After exhausting every possible idea I had and running out of time before the end of school for the day, I decided that I would go to our Dean. I told him that it was urgent and went into his office. I told him the story and left out Scott's name. I made him promise me that he would be able to help me get Scott out of the house and to a place where he would be safe. He promised and I gave him Scott's name.
When Scott was called to the office over the loudspeaker, I started to cry and was already shaking. I felt like I had betrayed him, but didn't know how else to help him.
The next day, I found out that Scott was staying with his grandmother and his father was being qustioned. Everything was looking like it was headed in the right direction.
A few days later, Scott's best friend and neighbor confronted me. Apparently after all of the questioning, they made Scott move back into his house with his parents. Not only that, but they were going to homeschool him. I immediately went back to the Dean's office. I was furious. I asked him what he was going to do to help Scott. All he said was that he had turned it over to child services and that child services had made their decision. He thought there was nothing else he could do.
The day that I tried to help Scott was the last day that I ever saw him. I never heard an update, or even that he was still in my hometown. Even now, knowing how running away to Chicago wouldn't have been easy, I wish I would have let him go.
I still don't know anything about how his life turned out or whether he continued to be abused. The only thing I now know about him is that he has a facebook pic of two beautiful little girls with pigtails next to his name.
I wish I could have the chance to say sorry, but how do you even apologize for something like that? Sorry is way too insignificant for the deep regret that I have always felt about how things turned out. I'm sure he has just as much regret about telling me his plans in the first place.
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4 comments:
You did the right thing. You should have that on your shoulders. If someone confides in you that they are being abused, you have the responsibility to report it.
That the dean of your school botched it - that's not your fault. Had you done nothing, and there had been no investigation, then he might've been worse off.
What a terrible guilt to have. What you did was out of compassion, not malice.
You should try to talk to him again. I'll bet that he isn't even angry with you. Even if he is you shouldn't feel guilty for trying to help.
I think you did the right thing. Plus, you were only in middle school yourself.
I agree with Steve. Add him on facebook and start up a conversation. See how things are going.
Anyway, if it makes you feel any better. I had a friend in a similar situation who did run away to Chicago when he was 13. The cops were looking for him, and they found him that night. He was back to his troubled house the next morning.
And, at least with the investigation, it's likely that people kept checking in on him, so if things were going bad, it would have probably been discovered eventually.
I agree with the previous comments. As hard as it was, you definitely did the right thing. You did what you had to at the time to help him out and you shouldn't have to feel the guilt because it didn't turn out as you had thought it would.
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