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For more than three decades, Connecticut’s child-protection system operated under federal court supervision following the landmark lawsuit Juan F. v. O’Neill.
The case exposed serious failures inside the Connecticut Department of Children and Families—overworked caseworkers, delayed investigations, and children left in dangerous situations despite warning signs. The federal consent decree that followed forced major reforms and placed the agency under court oversight for more than thirty years.
In 2022, U.S. District Court Judge Stefan R. Underhill ended that oversight after the state satisfied the court’s technical benchmarks.
But meeting benchmarks is not the same thing as fixing a system.
Across Connecticut, tragedy after tragedy has raised the same uncomfortable question: when children fall through the cracks, is the system focused on protecting them—or protecting itself?
A Pattern That Repeats
Some of the most disturbing failures happen even after authorities have already been involved.
One of the most recent examples is the death of Jacqueline “Mimi” Torres-García, an 11-year-old girl who authorities say endured prolonged abuse and starvation before dying in 2024. Her remains were discovered the following year.
The family had already had contact with the Department of Children and Families. During one welfare check, investigators relied on a video call in which another person allegedly impersonated the child.
The deception allowed the abuse to continue.
The tragedy shocked the public, but the political response quickly shifted toward calls for tighter regulation of homeschooling.
That shift raises an uncomfortable question.
When oversight fails this badly, why is the conversation moving toward regulating families who educate their children at home rather than confronting the investigative failures that allowed the abuse to continue?
Many families see that shift for what it is: scapegoating. The problem in the Mimi case was not homeschooling. The problem was that the child-protection system failed to recognize what was happening in front of it.
When Warnings Are Raised — And Still Ignored
Another tragedy exposed similar concerns years earlier.
In 2015, Tony Moreno climbed the Gold Star Memorial Bridge while holding his seven-month-old son Aaden Moreno and jumped, killing the infant.
The child’s mother had already raised concerns about the father’s behavior and sought help from authorities.
After the tragedy, she filed a lawsuit alleging that the Department of Children and Families failed to act despite warnings that the child could be in danger.
The case raised painful questions about how agencies evaluate risk—and how early decisions determine whether intervention happens before it is too late.
When the System Misjudges Risk
Sometimes the most consequential decisions happen long before the public ever hears about a case.
Before the 2007 Cheshire home invasion murders, Joshua Komisarjevsky had a long criminal history involving burglary and violence.
Despite that record, reporting indicates he had been granted sole custody of his daughter shortly before the murders.
The horrific crime that followed shocked the state.
But the custody decision that preceded it raises a deeper issue about how courts and agencies evaluate danger when children are involved.
If someone later capable of committing one of the most brutal crimes in Connecticut’s history could still be entrusted with parental responsibility, what does that say about how risk is assessed in the first place?
The most important decisions about a child’s safety often happen quietly—long before tragedy forces the public to notice them.
When Institutions Protect Themselves
Not every case becomes a headline.
Some remain buried in court files and internal reviews.
One Connecticut case involved a six-week-old infant referred to in records as Baby Shane Hurley. Medical imaging reportedly documented multiple skull fractures—injuries that in infants can signal potentially fatal trauma.
According to records connected to the case, the child’s mother repeatedly sought help before the injuries occurred. She contacted police, sought domestic-violence assistance, and attempted to obtain a restraining order because she feared for the baby’s safety.
After the infant was hospitalized, prosecutors reportedly issued subpoenas seeking medical records documenting the skull fractures as part of the criminal investigation.
But the handling of those records became the center of a dispute.
According to documentation connected to the case, officials within the local office of the Department of Children and Families controlled access to those records as part of their own investigation and did not allow the hospital to release them through the agency’s case file despite the subpoenas.
DCF was pursuing its own proceedings in family court.
The father was ultimately prosecuted on child-abuse charges rather than attempted-murder charges.
An internal review later concluded that DCF had acted improperly in the handling of the case.
But by then, the legal outcome had already been determined.
Removal Should Be a Last Resort
Child-welfare research increasingly emphasizes that removing a child from their home should be a last resort.
Studies cited by organizations such as the Annie E. Casey Foundation show that children placed in foster care often experience instability, multiple placements, disrupted schooling, and higher risks of homelessness as adults.
Those findings have led many experts to argue that the best outcome for most children is to remain safely with their families whenever possible.
Yet the structure of the system can complicate that goal.
Federal reimbursement programs tied to foster-care placements provide funding to states for managing children who have been removed from their homes.
While those programs were created to ensure abused children had safe alternatives, critics argue they can create incentives that prioritize managing foster placements rather than investing in services that might keep families together safely.
Abuse Does Not End When the State Takes Custody
Removing a child from danger does not automatically guarantee safety.
Children in foster care face their own risks: instability, institutional neglect, and in some cases the overuse of psychiatric medication to manage trauma-related behavior.
Connecticut has oversight procedures intended to monitor those decisions, but the existence of those safeguards reflects a larger reality.
Once the state takes custody of a child, the state becomes responsible for what happens next. If children are harmed after entering the system, that is no longer simply a family failure. It becomes a system failure.
Reform That Puts Children First
Advocates say meaningful reform must focus on recognizing abuse patterns earlier and ensuring child safety takes priority over institutional concerns.
One proposal frequently discussed among child-safety advocates is the Safe Child Act, championed by domestic-violence expert Barry Goldstein.
The proposal focuses on improving how courts and investigators recognize patterns of domestic violence and coercive control when making decisions affecting children.
Supporters argue that better training and earlier intervention could prevent tragedies before they occur.
The Question Connecticut Must Answer
The end of federal oversight under Juan F. v. O’Neill was supposed to mark the moment when Connecticut’s child-protection system finally turned the corner.
But the tragedies that continue to surface—from Mimi Torres-García to the Gold Star Bridge case and lesser-known cases buried in court records—suggest the deeper problems have not disappeared.
Child-protection agencies hold extraordinary power over families and over the safety of vulnerable children.
That power carries an equally extraordinary responsibility.
When children die after warnings were raised, when evidence disappears inside bureaucratic processes, and when policy debates shift blame toward convenient political targets like homeschooling, the public deserves more than reassurances.
They deserve accountability.
Because the system that was created to protect children cannot continue protecting itself first.






