Two passages stand out from the final report of the Laurent Commission, which examined shortcomings in Quebec’s youth protection system and should have marked a turning point in how the province cares for its most vulnerable children.
“We must move from indignation to dignity. We must transform our anger into action. We must show ourselves to be worthy of our children and our youth,” stated the report tabled in 2021, capping off an inquiry presided over by Régine Laurent following the horrific case of “la fillette de Granby.”
The seven-year-old girl died in 2019 after being found taped to her bed. She had suffered unspeakable abuse at the hands of her father and stepmother despite multiple alerts sent to the Direction de la protection de la jeunesse.
The case shocked, outraged and galvanized Quebecers.
“We conclude that prevention, by access to services, remains the weak link of the system,” the report also noted.
These words reverberate five years later as Quebec grapples with the deaths of not one, but three children who slipped through the cracks of Batshaw Youth and Family Centres, which offers service in English. They died this spring within a month of each other, but two of the fatalities have only come to light this summer, after whistleblowers spoke out to The Gazette.
A four-year-old — whose sibling had died previously — had bruises and signs of malnutrition at the time of her death. Her caseworker had been reassigned. A 17-year-old boy took his own life while waiting for an assessment. A 16-year-old girl at Batshaw’s facility in Prévost died by suicide.
They died despite multiple reforms stemming from the Laurent Commission’s 65 recommendations, like the creation of a new Commissaire au bien-être et aux droits des enfants.
They died despite Quebec’s commitment to making the protection of children a priority.
The deaths are deeply troubling — but so is the response to them.
They were not proactively disclosed.
Once exposed, it took Quebec Social Services Minister Lionel Carmant six days to comment after first referring questions to Lesley Hill, Quebec’s national director of youth protection. And once Carmant finally broke what the opposition Liberals called his “unacceptable” silence, his answers raised questions about whether Quebec has truly taken past tragedies to heart.
Carmant told The Gazette the deaths were “not news to me” and he was “not sure what would be the advantage of publicly coming out with this information.”
Perhaps he was trying to show he was on top of the file, but his remarks didn’t exactly ooze compassion. They certainly don’t signal a move from anger to action.
Carmant also drew a false equivalency. He tried to justify the nondisclosure of the Batshaw deaths by saying “children die in the neonatal unit every day” without public acknowledgment.
Sorry, there’s just no comparison between premature infants not surviving despite the heroic efforts of doctors and nurses, and children dying or taking their own lives because they were forgotten by the system that was supposed to protect them.
One is a personal heartbreak, the other a collective failure.
Carmant did sound more human during an interview on 98.5 FM when he recognized the fatalities as “tragedies.” Still, it’s not clear he realizes these are everybody’s children and society has a duty to remember them. While privacy restrictions may make it difficult to reveal details, people finding out about deaths after the fact from anonymous insiders doesn’t inspire confidence — or show accountability.
Yet subpar communications are the least of the lingering issues.
Carmant offered assurances that measures were taken in the immediate aftermath of the deaths. Six new workers were hired to reinforce intake teams. Batshaw’s waiting list was reduced from 437 cases a year ago to 70 now. New risk-assessment protocols were put in place in May for children awaiting placement.
But if everything is fixed, why did Santé Québec on Tuesday call for an independent examination by the Bureau de l’inspectrice nationale “to take an objective and independent look at the situation”?
Santé Québec has also known about the three deaths for months. Batshaw falls under the jurisdiction of Santé Québec Ouest-de-l’Île-de-Montréal — Universitaire, formerly a CIUSSS that went by a similar name. But it’s only calling in outside eyes to probe the incidents now, when there is public scrutiny. Sounds more like they’re trying to cover their own backsides.
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And if anger has been transformed into action, why did the Batshaw workers feel the need to speak out now, risking their jobs?
The employees and their union say continuing problems like chronic turnover, a lack of training, support and mentorship, a ban on overtime, excessive paperwork, and the centralization of management under Santé Québec result in warning signs being missed and kids not getting the help they deserve.
Hiring six new employees may cut the backlog now, but how long will these new caseworkers last?
The cone of silence that fell over the agency after the three deaths also fuelled rumours and speculation. Had Batshaw proactively addressed the fatalities internally, perhaps its own employees would have more trust in the agency and the system to prevent future tragedies.
Had the deaths been publicly acknowledged, perhaps people would feel Quebec has a youth protection system “worthy” of its children.
A lack of transparency makes it seem like deaths were swept under the rug. Silence only serves the interests of centralized structures where there is no accountability.
The findings of Quebec’s coroner will eventually shed more light on “weak links” in youth protection that cost three children their lives five years after the Laurent Commission.
If it “took courage” to face up to cracks in the safety net then, as the report noted, it requires more courage to finish the job now.
I started at The Montreal Gazette in 2000 as an intern. Since then I have covered the National Assembly and courts, worked on the assignment desk and written editorials, before debuting as city columnist in 2017.
ahanes@postmedia.com