The assessment room was on the first floor on the east side of the building. It was a large room that had been painted in a happy, pastel yellow. Toys were scattered throughout the space, including a large, non-gender-specific dollhouse and several anatomically correct dolls. A table flanked by two chairs held paper and colored pencils. There was a bookshelf of books about families, too. Two denim bean-bag chairs were in there as well, on the colorful floor mat in the form of a jigsaw puzzle. I sat in the observation room so I could watch through the one-way mirror. I made sure the camera next to me was recording and dimmed the lights.
After a few minutes, Russ entered with little Dylan, who looked exactly as he had when I saw him last. Maybe a little taller. Skinny kid, dressed in clean, gray cargo shorts and a royal blue t-shirt with a gray truck on it. His clothes were a little big on him, but he would grow into them soon. His hair was dark brown and shaggy, like he hadn’t had a haircut in a while. He had big, curious, blue eyes. His fair skin was slightly pink from a mild sunburn.
He went immediately to the table with the paper and colored pencils on it, that was just below the observation window. He started to pick up a pencil and stopped, looking at Russell. “Can I color?” He asked in a small voice.
“Sure, we can color if you want to.” Russell sat in the other chair at the table. He asked permission before coloring, I thought, so impulse control was pretty good so far. Over the years, I had seen so many kids bolt into that room and tear through all the toys before I could even catch up.
Dylan chose a green pencil and drew some grass on a piece of paper. Then he chose black and drew a road. A small truck was next, colored red, with a brown-haired figure behind the steering wheel. Russell asked if he knew why he was here. He shrugged. “I’m supposed to talk about Mr. Grant.”
“What about Mr. Grant?”
“I’m supposed to say he touched me.”
“What can you tell me about that?”
“He touched me.”
“Can you tell me more about it?”
“He touched me.”
“Can you tell me where?”
“In the bathroom.”
I saw Russell choke back a giggle. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t clear. I meant where on your body.”
Dylan started squirming, drawing huge roll bars on the truck. He shook his head.
“Dylan, remember we talked about this before we came in here. This is very serious. I need you to tell me the truth. You won’t get in trouble for saying the truth, ever. Can you point to where he touched you?”
Dylan waved a hand toward his lap. “Down there. I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”
“Okay, I appreciate your being honest with me. Your truck looks great! Does your mommy drive a truck?”
“No, we have a Kia but it’s little and doesn’t work most of the time. Mommy says she is going to get us a truck, as soon as she gets some money.”
“How does mommy get money? Does she have a job?”
“She used to work for Mr. Grant, but she doesn’t anymore. It’s sad. He was nice.”
“I thought you said he touched you.”
I could see the moment of panic on little Dylan’s face. He was caught in the deception and he knew it. He shrugged. “I don’t know.”
Russ focused on the truck again. After a moment, he asked, “Where would you go in that truck, if you could drive it?”
“I don’t know.” Dylan drew headlights on the truck, coloring them yellow. He was shutting down.
“Is there anything else you want to talk about, before I go get your mom?”
“I don’t know.”
“Last chance.”
“No.” It was practically a whisper.
“Okay, I’m going to go get your mom.” Russ left to get Regina while I continued to watch Dylan. After Russ left, he continued coloring on the picture. He drew a large mountain behind the truck, outlined in brown. Several large objects were drawn on the top of the pointed mountain that looked like boulders. Then a gray thundercloud.
Russ and Regina walked in the room and, without being asked, Dylan took his picture and went and sat on one of the bean bag chairs so the adults could sit on the chairs by the table. Regina was artificially orange-tan, with long dark brown hair and blue eyes like her son’s. Her body was larger than I remembered; she had gained some weight. She wore a lot of eye makeup that was a bright blue color, and her fire engine red lipstick wasn’t doing her any favors. Her expression made me think she was annoyed.
Dylan was anxious. He was hyper-focused on his mom, and seemed to be waiting for her to say something. Acknowledge him, or anything. Russell asked how things were going.
“How do you think things are going for God’s sake? My son has been abused. What did he tell you? Did he tell you the details?”
Dylan shrank small in the bean bag as Russell answered, “I’m sorry, but everything Dylan and I discuss is between us, like I said before we started. Is he having any behavioral problems?”
“No. Should he be?”
Russell shrugged. “I’m just getting an idea of what’s going on.”
“When will Grant be arrested? When will the charges be filed?”
“I am going to refer Dylan to the Cole Center for further evaluation. They’ll do an assessment and determine whether to send the case to the District Attorney for review.”
“So all this was for nothing?” She shouted. “What the hell is the point of us coming down here then?” She stood up, as did Russ.
Dylan tucked his knees up to his chest on the bean bag. The poor kid was practically in the fetal position.
Russell continued, “This is the first step in any investigation. We’ll refer it out from here and see what they are able to determine.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Regina grabbed her purse and loudly said, “C’mon Dylan. Let’s get out of here.”
Dylan stood up and Russell addressed him. “It was great to meet you, Dylan. Thanks for talking to me. Can I keep your picture?”
He nodded and handed it to Russell as Regina stormed out of the room. Dylan followed her and I heard Russell sigh as I turned off the camera. He walked them out toward the lobby, then joined me the observation room after I turned up the lights.
©Margaret Fenton
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