Can we prevent another Suffolk CPS tragedy?

Another Suffolk County child has died allegedly at the hands of a parent or caregiver and so far, the tragic story is playing out the same way it did six years ago when 8-year-old Thomas Valva died of hypothermia after being forced to sleep in an unheated garage at his family's Center Moriches home.

Now three generations of women are charged in connection with the torture and killing of 7-year-old Jor'Dynn Duncan inside a Bayport home in December. First came the headlines, sorrow and outrage, followed by now-familiar questions about what the child's school, the courts and Child Protective Services (CPS) could have done differently.

An investigation is ongoing, but it seems clear that either the reforms enacted after Thomas' murder weren't as sweeping as lawmakers claimed or weren't fully implemented. We know at least one reform never fully took hold.

In 2020, Suffolk enacted a law that said CPS caseworkers should not manage more than an average of 12 cases per month — an acknowledgment that staff stretched too thin cannot do their job properly.

Yet this week, according to county data, 86 caseworkers were carrying more than 12 cases each, including 35 who had more than 15.

Why?

Probably because of staff shortages that persist because the work is taxing, the stakes are high, and the pay reflects neither.

Caseworkers for the Suffolk County Department of Social Services (which oversees CPS) start at a base salary of $62,327, which doesn't sound bad until you consider Long Island's high cost of living.

The job comes with a cost, too. Caseworkers face secondary trauma, vicarious grief and the accumulated weight of walking into homes where children are being abused. There they must make life-altering decisions — sometimes within minutes, often with incomplete information, and always knowing that there's little margin for error. Remove a child unnecessarily and a family is shattered. Miss a warning sign and a child could die. Every high-stakes decision carries weight that most professionals will never experience.

Public scrutiny makes the job harder. When a case goes wrong — and in a system this complex and strained, that's likely — the worker, even if unnamed, often becomes a big part of the story. We ask caseworkers to carry what the system refuses to fix, then fault them when it breaks. The results are predictable.

If we care about kids, let's invest in them. Make CPS salaries competitive, offer signing and retention bonuses, and provide private sector perks like tuition reimbursement and childcare subsidies.

Caseload caps must be enforced and routinely recalibrated to account for case severity. Clinical supervision and trauma-informed support can help retain staff, many of whom are new to the field and routinely seeing things you can't unsee.

There's no easy fix, but these suggestions are a start.

Critically, this latest tragedy reminds us that combating child abuse and neglect requires the help of the entire community. This means, for example, ensuring that nonprofit prevention programs and parenting support groups are properly funded, and that law enforcement have the right training and tools to keep kids safe.

Jor'Dynn Duncan and Thomas Valva both deserved better. So did every child whose name never made the front page. We know what's broken and know how to fix it. The only question is whether we're willing to act before we find ourselves here again — standing over another small coffin, asking the same questions, making the same promises we won't keep.

This guest essay reflects the views of Jeffrey L. Reynolds, president and CEO of the Garden City-based Family & Children's Association.