A Case Worker Told Me To “Trust The Process” When My Foster Son Was Covered In Bruises,

A System Protecting Itself

My friend Sarah worked for a different DCFS office. We’d known each other since college.

She believed me. Knew Williams’ reputation.

But when I asked her to testify she went quiet. Mortgage payments; kid in college.

She couldn’t risk her job by speaking against the system. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I believe you, but I can’t.”

The therapist connection made me sick. Williams had started seeing Jaden’s former therapist—the one who treated him before the placement disruption.

Same office, same chair where Jaden had first disclosed the abuse. The receptionist mentioned it casually. “Oh, Ms. Williams? She’s our 3:00 on Thursdays.”

Using my kid’s safe space for her own therapy. Williams made an offer through her supervisor.

Drop the complaints, stop the investigation, request a transfer to a different caseworker. She’d forget about the harassment claims; make the criminal report go away—clean slate.

All I had to do was admit defeat. I refused.

She knew I would. The offer was just another move in the game.

Now she could tell everyone she’d tried to resolve things peacefully. I was the one being unreasonable, putting my “vendetta” above Jaden’s stability.

The Tuesday-Thursday mistake almost broke me. I’d been so sure about the meeting date; built a whole timeline around it.

Showed how Williams had lied about when she received the photos, but I’d been looking at the wrong week in my calendar. The meeting was Tuesday, not Thursday.

My smoking gun turned into proof that I couldn’t keep basic facts straight.

Another parent recorded Williams at a school event. Not intentionally—they were filming their kid’s presentation.

But in the background you could hear Williams coaching Sharon Wheeler. Telling her what to say if questioned; how to frame the discipline as “necessary classroom management.”

The parents sent me the video. We both knew it was evidence. We also knew submitting it would make us both targets.

The Truth Comes to Light

The email that should have damned Williams actually saved her. I’d found one where she discussed Jaden’s case with Sharon Wheeler—clear violation of confidentiality.

Except when I read it carefully, she was actually trying to expedite services for him. Pushing for faster therapy appointments; fighting for additional support.

My accusation made me look like I was attacking her even when she helped.

The foster parent mentor situation hurt. Patricia had been my lifeline when Jaden first arrived.

Guided me through the hard nights, the behavioral challenges. But she also ran training sessions for DCFS; got paid $200 per class.

When I asked for her support she did the math—20 sessions a year, $4,000. “I can’t lose this income,” she said.

But Patricia surprised me. Publicly she sided with DCFS.

Privately she shared Williams’ history. Other complaints swept under the rug. Foster parents who’d given up fighting.

She couldn’t testify, but she could point me toward others who might.

Gathering Intel

The book club intelligence was almost comical. Williams attended a weekly reading group with other social workers.

My friend Janet was already a member. Started reporting back on Williams’ comments—how she talked about “difficult cases” and foster parents who don’t understand the system.

Nothing actionable. Just confirmation that I was living rent-free in her head too.

I engineered a meeting at Williams’ mother’s nursing home. Knew she visited Wednesdays at 4:00.

Showed up with Jaden to visit a friend. We ended up in the elevator together.

Forced to make small talk about the weather while I memorized her routine. Watched how she interacted with her mom—looking for humanity, finding only the same controlled performance.

The shared drive discovery was pure luck. Williams didn’t know it had upgraded the system.

Old files she thought were private were now visible to anyone with portal access. Her evaluation history, previous complaints, performance reviews.

I downloaded everything before she realized the exposure. Sharon Wheeler’s lawyer complicated everything.

Claimed Williams had promised immunity in exchange for cooperation. Had emails suggesting a deal: Williams denying abuse reports if Wheeler agreed to modify her approach.

The prosecutor said it wasn’t enough for criminal charges, just administrative violations.

Collateral Damage

The school play broke my heart. Jaden had three lines as Tree Number Two.

Practiced for weeks. But that night I was meeting with a journalist who’d taken interest in the case.

Thought media pressure might force action. By the time I realized my mistake the play was over.

The program listed me as attending. The teacher had assumed I was there.

Jaden didn’t correct her. Legal fees drained my savings account—$5,000 for the family lawyer, $3,000 for the criminal defense attorney, another $2,000 for document preparation.

Meanwhile, Williams charged her foster parent training sessions to her state card. Built the system for teaching others while she protected abusers.

The pizza place confrontation was my lowest point. Jaden’s favorite restaurant.

We went every Friday. Williams showed up with her daughter, sat two tables away.

The tension was unbearable. Jaden kept looking between us.

The teenage employees sensed something wrong. When Williams asked for a to-go box she made sure to walk past our table—close enough that Jaden flinched.

Losing respite care approval felt targeted. The paperwork cited “ongoing instability in placement.”

Williams’ signature at the bottom. She controlled every aspect of support services. Could approve or deny based on her assessment.

My war with her was costing Jaden the help he needed. I spent three nights on my friend Tom’s couch.

The apartment inspection had found violations. Smoke detector battery dead; cleaning supplies under the sink instead of locked cabinet.

Minor things that suddenly mattered. Meanwhile Williams hosted the quarterly “foster parent appreciation dinner.”

Smiled for photos while I tried to find somewhere safe for Jaden to sleep. The call from Jaden’s siblings’ foster mom gutted me.

Maria had been fighting for reunification for two years. Begged me to stop making waves. “They’ll separate the siblings,” she said. “Please. I know you’re right about Williams, but these kids need each other more than they need justice.”

My investigation caused collateral damage I hadn’t anticipated. Another caseworker, Jennifer, got suspended.

Someone reported her for similar patterns to Williams, but Jennifer was one of the good ones. Fought for her kids.

The suspension was based on anonymous complaints that sounded suspiciously like Williams’ writing style. Jennifer’s son asked why Mommy was crying at dinner.

Jennifer’s husband called me; said the stress was destroying their marriage. Threatened to leave if she didn’t find different work.

I knew Williams had orchestrated the false accusations, but I couldn’t prove it. Couldn’t stop it.

My war had expanded beyond its intended target. Jaden’s question came during bath time. “What if Ms. Williams is just trying her best?”

He looked up at me with those trusting eyes. I couldn’t answer immediately.

How do you explain systemic failure to a seven-year-old? How do you tell him that sometimes trying your best isn’t good enough when kids are getting hurt?

I had to admit my own past to maintain credibility. Years ago, I’d filed a CPS complaint against my elderly father.

Thought he was neglecting Mom. Turned out he was overwhelmed, not abusive.

But the investigation nearly killed him. Williams’ lawyer found the records. Used them to paint me as someone who saw abuse everywhere.