I was alone in a world I knew very little about. The Department of Family and Protective Services had decided it was in my best interest to be seperated from my younger brother when we were removed from our home. What the fuck? Why me? Did I do something to deserve this? Why are all these adults telling me so many different things to do? Does anyone care about me? Where are the parents I once knew? Why are they hurting me all of the time? Am I different? 

 

 These were some of the questions that were not being answered by the strangers I continually had to fear. 

 

 Here I was again. Crying because I felt unwanted by strangers. Fearful of unfamiliar faces in a scary place I didn't even know the name of. Dumped off by that Ms Aggee woman at yet another location. What are they going to do to me next? Will I ever see my mother or father again? And by this time my parent's faces had become unrecognizable in my mind's eye. Faded memories of the faces of my blood relatives. Beaten from me by the inhabitants at the last drop off point.

 

 Reginald Wier, appeared in the old hospital room I'd been ordered into by his wife, Mary. The initial reassurances comforted me somewhat temporarily. Fortunate for me there was something he liked about me because he never whipped me near as hard, or often as some of the the other children that came through the doors of the old Freeport Hospital. Mary, on the other hand, was mean to me and spanked me frquently. 

 

 I entered the second grade at O A Fleming and learned what I could. My emotions because of what I was going through hampered me greatly. Somehow I managed to keep up with my studies and passed. A couple of the older boys, including Reginald's son, Dan, had began forcing themselves on me sexually by the time I was in the third grade.  That was when I first met, Edward Balestrine.  He came and went as if employed by BCYH. More on this later.

 

 The ceilings within the children's hospital rooms had began to collapse so a house was purchased from H P Bell, in Oyster Creek, to begin expansion of the facility.  He, and his wife, were allowed to stay on as houseparents as part of the deal. They were some of the worst when it came to beating us kids. Mrs. Bell started hitting one of the retarted boys in the head with her wooden paddle when she noticed she wasn't hurting his buttocks. They claimed to be christians of the Baptist variety.

 

 The Trahan family were normal caring people I had very few problems with.

 

 The Nolan family were a local couple who helped out for a while.

 

 The Eaton family were another great couple who acted as substitute house parents whenever the others were off on vacations enjoying there bonuses.

 

 The Jackson family, from Richwood, beat us, too. Fat slobs! Assembly of God, they were. The Roger family, hired on after a second house was built on the property and they were asked to leave after beating one of the kids up.  A third house was built, and the Minter family arrived. They were by far the nicest couple I recall.

 

 Then came the Kilpatrick family. The bruises Danny Kilpatrick left on my body were noticed by the Physical Education teacher at Freeport Intermediate School where I was attending  seventh grade. Principal Anderson, notified, Joe Cruze, the Administrator at the youth home, and my child welfare agent, Judith A Kelly, hurriedly made arrangements for my transfer to the Texas Baptist Children's Home, where I later became an addict/alcoholic. No one notified my parents, whom I hadn't seen in over seven years, because of their liability, job security, and political careers.  And this came after a sexual abuse that had occurred the preceeding year, by Edward Balestrine, that I reported to the Lake Jackson Police when me a number of the other boys at the youth home were questioned about him. 

 

 I was under the impression that, Balestrine, was sentenced to forty years in prison according to the BCYH founder, and local distict attorney, Tom Kenyon. One of the two attorneys that represented, Balestrine, in Cause: 8733, 23rd Judicial District Court of Brazoria County, on March 19, 1973. It's no wonder, Jack Daniels, the Brazoria County Youth Home Administrator, left shortly after the sodomy was discovered. They promised him a new house in his book entitled: " A Shot of Jack Daniels ". The fact that, Bonnie Faye Balestrine, Edward's mother, was a county employee couldn't possibly have had anything to do with it? Hum! 

 

 Surely, these people knew the difference between right and wrong. Which brings me to the point of why I decided to share the forgotten past with some of you. If you happen to be in circumstances such as documented here, or know of someone who is, don't trust your guardians, Child Protective Services agent, law enforcement, or anyone else who stands to profit from keeping child abuse a secret. I didn't realize until forty years later how badly I was trully injured at the hands of these deceitful counterfits. There are some of these children who are being provided preferential treament in exchange for sexual favors, but report such crimes only to someone you trust enough to follow it all the way through making sure that all laws are followed with regards to a just outcome. Let not my example be yours; heed my advise. Because even the District Attorney, Douglas D Behrendt, in this case, was complacent. 

 

 I was returned to my family after ten very long years.  Only after being returned to the Brazoria County Youth Home from the Texas Baptist Children's Home and decided in my own best interest to run  away before the beatings got a chance to get started again.

 

To anyone who may have been omitted, such as Joe Cruse, and the rest, I can only say that your god might forgive you but I won't. As far as the District Attorney, and law enforcement agencies, I've ask to assist in setting the record straight and because of your guilt by association, I hope this is widely circulated before election time.