By Jerry Markon
Washington Post Staff Writer
Thursday, July 13, 2006; VA14
Darryl, 6, stares at his new glasses and slowly runs his fingers along the frames. He breathes on them, cleans them on his shirt and then does it again, and again.
He's stalling because he doesn't want to put them on.
But a visitor to his Alexandria home on this recent Monday morning is determined to make sure he wears them.
"Let me see your glasses," says Ginnie Volkman, a volunteer with the Court Appointed Special Advocate, or CASA, program.
Darryl quickly puts the spectacles on his nose.
"You look pretty handsome," Volkman says to laughter from four of Darryl's siblings. "So, are you going to wear your glasses?"
"Yes," Darryl answers quietly.
The importance of Darryl's glasses goes far beyond a child's vanity. Darryl has a disorder called strabismus, and glasses are required to correct it. But his mother, a former substance abuser who receives public assistance, neglected to get Darryl's glasses for several months -- landing her in Alexandria's juvenile court system for medical neglect.
Volkman can recite intimate details of Darryl's condition. That's because she interviewed his eye doctor and then researched the condition extensively. She knows that Darryl almost never wears glasses at school. She talked to his teacher.
And Volkman does all of this, the visits to Darryl's house and school, the conversations with his doctors and social workers, in her spare time -- without being paid.
She is one of 55 CASA volunteers who choose to immerse themselves in the lives of troubled children, those who have been neglected or abused by their parents or guardians. The program began in Alexandria in 1988 and is a fixture of the city's Juvenile and Domestic Relations District Court.
Now, CASA is expanding in Arlington. The expansion began slowly last year but will quicken with $70,000 in grants the program received from organizations including Friedman Billings Ramsey, an Arlington-headquartered investment bank, and the Virginia Law Foundation, which provides legal services to the poor.
In the fiscal year that ended June 30, CASA served 36 children in Arlington and 156 in Alexandria. The new funds will allow the program to hire an additional full-time staff member (there are now two). The organization then plans to take on 25 more volunteers, which means an additional 50 to 75 children could be served in the county next year.
"It was crucial that we expand this program," said CASA program director Carrie Cannon. "We've been successful in Alexandria and we figured Arlington is right next door, and we wanted to make sure that children had a voice in both jurisdictions."
George D. Varoutsos, a juvenile court judge who helped bring the program to Arlington, said some officials weren't convinced that CASA was needed and thought the system of paid social workers and other professionals was enough to aid troubled kids.
"No one was against it; they were just willing to do it the way we had been," said Varoutsos, who is chief judge of the Juvenile and Domestic Relations District Court for Arlington and Falls Church. "I think CASA is an outstanding program that they have in a lot of places, and I thought we should have it. And it's gone very well so far."
CASA was started in Seattle in the 1970s by a juvenile court judge who felt he wasn't getting enough information about the children he evaluated. There are now more than 900 CASA program offices nationwide, including in Fairfax and Prince William counties in Northern Virginia, the District and Montgomery and Prince George's counties in Maryland.
Judges rely on CASA volunteers to be their eyes and ears when children are placed in the system. In Alexandria, volunteers are assigned to about 65 percent of the abuse and neglect cases that pass through juvenile court, and virtually all of the difficult cases have "a CASA," as they are known, said Nolan B. Dawkins, the court's chief judge.
Volunteers work with the Department of Social Services on problems that range from physical abuse to parents not properly feeding their children or leaving them unattended. They start by going through the court file and then interview the child and every important person in the child's life, including parents, social workers and mental health therapists.
Each CASA volunteer compiles all this information into a report for the judge, including what the volunteer thinks is best for the child. That may be putting or keeping children in foster care, returning them to their parents or even recommending adoption. The volunteer then follows the case, visiting the child at least monthly, until the child's life has stabilized to the point where the file is closed.
"I think children kind of get lost in the system," said Jennifer Marfino, 35, an Arlington boutique owner who began volunteering last year. "The social services people are amazing, but they are completely overworked. They might have 20 cases, and each one is really intense. We plug a gap in the system, and we give the child a voice."
Volunteers can stay on a case anywhere from six months to three years and can work as much as 15 to 20 hours a week. Cannon said one volunteer just finished a case in which she was the only person to stay with the child all three years -- the social workers, lawyers and foster homes all changed, as did the child's school.
The volunteers include students and real estate agents, engineers and retirees. They must be at least 21, pass a series of background checks and be willing to undergo a six-week training course. CASA officials said they have no problem finding volunteers through the Internet, ads in newspapers and word of mouth.
"It's amazing that the state puts their faith in volunteers and allows them to do this and that people are willing to do it," Marfino said. "I think all volunteer work is important, but you are really putting your mind to use here, and it's so intense."
Sometimes, the intensity can make the work difficult. "These children have suffered tremendous pain," said Tim Stock, 67, a retired corporate lawyer who began volunteering seven years ago. "They are being separated from their parents, who may well have been abusive toward them, but they're still the parents and they love them. It's painful to see a child go through that."
But Stock and other volunteers said the benefits are worth any emotional toll. "The satisfaction of knowing that you've done something for these kids is beyond price," Stock said. "There was tremendous intellectual and professional satisfaction doing what I did as an attorney, but this is human, this is real. It's a different order of satisfaction."
Volkman, 64, a former Fairfax County Spanish teacher, began volunteering last year because being retired "wasn't enough to keep me busy. When I volunteer to do something, I do it wholeheartedly. You can't just step into a child's life and then step out in a week. It's a cause."
Darryl's mother, whose last name is being withheld to protect Darryl's privacy, began to tear up when she discussed Volkman and the CASA program. "This is heaven-sent for me. It's just such a blessing," she said. "I think it's amazing that she does all this without getting paid, to have to go to into people's homes and keep calling and school visits. It's quite a job."
After 20 years of abusing alcohol and such drugs as crack cocaine, Darryl's mother said she has been drug-free for 14 months. "CASA gives me a sense that it's going to be okay, that the smoke has cleared," she said.
Volkman said the woman has made great progress in getting her life together and is "a poster child, one of our success stories."
Yet problems linger. Darryl didn't have glasses for months after losing them and got his newest pair only last month. At a recent eye appointment, his mother learned that the eye disorder -- an imbalance in the muscles of the eyeball that can lead to functional blindness -- had spread to his other eye.
It was her inability to care for the problem, along with a skin condition characterized by boils that afflicted Darryl's 8-year-old sister, that landed her in juvenile court. A judge last year ordered the woman to take Darryl to an ophthalmologist and to take care of the condition.
On this recent Monday, Volkman enters the family's cramped living room to visit the mother and five of her seven children. Only Darryl and his sister are in the court system, but Volkman said the other children suffer from developmental delays and have problems in school.
The mother begins by saying she missed Darryl's follow-up eye appointment the previous week because she couldn't get a ride, and says she can't get another appointment until September. "I'm terribly upset," she says.
Volkman gently questions her, maintaining the air of an aunt or good friend. "I have some goodies," she says, toting a bag of Fourth of July glow sticks.
As the children gather, Volkman asks about summer school, camp and swimming, and gives an impromptu Spanish lesson. She asks repeatedly about Darryl's glasses and pays special attention to the 8-year-old sister, rubbing her back and running her hands through the girl's braids.
"Have you been drawing lately?" she asks the girl, whose skin condition has improved markedly. "You know what I want you to do? I'd like you to draw a picture of your whole family and give it to me, because I know you're good at art."
The girl agrees, and then happily volunteers that her birthday is coming up. "In this family, you probably have a birthday every month," Volkman says to laughter from the children.
Soon, the 15-minute visit is over, as is any chance that Darryl will keep his glasses on. It's time to go swimming.
"Yeah!" he yells.
"You all have a happy Fourth of July," Volkman says as she leaves. She will return within a few weeks. "It's going to take time," she says.