The Alleged Perpetrator: When the System Becomes the Subject of the Investigation

“You will know them by their fruits.” Matthew 7:16

When I was a child protective investigator, I responded to calls made to Florida's abuse hotline. By the time I knocked on a family's door, I was responding to something that had allegedly already happened.

An outcome.

Imagine a mother whose child regularly plays in the street while she is inside cooking dinner. Monday, nothing happens. Tuesday, nothing happens. Wednesday, nothing happens. Then one afternoon, the child is hit by a car. Someone calls the hotline. A child protective investigator is at the door.

What changed?

Not the mother's behavior. The child had been playing outside the same way all summer. Mom had been inside cooking every time.

What changed was the outcome.

And once the outcome changed, we work backward. Where was Mom? Did she know the child was outside? How long was the child unsupervised? Had this happened before? Should she have anticipated the danger? Did her actions, or failure to act, contribute to the injury?

Imagine the mother saying: "But I didn't intend for my child to get hit by a car." Of course she didn't. But her intentions does not end the investigation. Depending on what is found, her child could even be forcibly taken from her.

When it comes to parents, good intentions do not erase harmful outcomes.

Jesus said: “You will know them by their fruits.” Not by what they intended. Not by what they call themselves. Not by their mission statement.

By their fruit.

So why does the standard change when the alleged perpetrator is a system?

Change the Name on the Case File

When a report of child abuse or neglect is investigated, the person accused of causing the harm is identified as the alleged perpetrator. Usually, that's the parent or caregiver.

For this investigation, let's change the name on the case file.

Alleged perpetrator: THE SYSTEM.

When child welfare produces harmful outcomes, we are reminded that the system exists to protect children. When incarceration devastates families and communities, we are reminded that prisons exist to protect public safety. When a law-enforcement encounter ends in death, enormous attention is placed on what the person who died did in the moments before the encounter, while the actions of those exercising state power are explained through the pressure and danger of the job. When programs designed to address poverty fail to move families out of poverty, we hear about how many services were provided.

Again and again, we judge people by outcomes and defend institutions with intentions.

But intentions cannot become a hiding place from outcomes. Don't tell me what the system was created to do. Tell me what it produced. Don't tell me how much money was spent. Tell me what changed. Don't tell me how many people were served. Tell me whether their lives got better. If we are serious about truth, we have to be willing to examine the fruit even when the people tending the tree mean well.

Investigate the Alleged Perpetrator

Now apply the same standard we use with parents. Was there a pattern? Were there warning signs? What did you know? When did you know it? What did you do about it?And did the harm stop?

Those questions become devastating when applied to institutions that have decades of data, reports, research, lawsuits and testimony from the people experiencing their consequences.

The first time, perhaps you didn't know. But what about the tenth report? The hundredth focus group? The twentieth study? Another lawsuit? Another generation experiencing the same outcomes?

At some point, “That wasn't our intention” stops being a defense. Once you know what your actions are producing, continuing those actions becomes a choice.

To Whom Much Is Given

Consider who we scrutinize most. The mother may have an investigator enter her home. Open her refrigerator. Look through her cabinets. Question her relationships. Ask about her finances. Interview her children. Document her failures. And ultimately recommend whether she gets to continue raising her own child.

Now look at the institution standing on the other side of her door. Public funding. Attorneys. Research. Data. Experts. Political influence. Decades of institutional knowledge. And extraordinary authority over families.

Yet when that institution produces harm, where is the equivalent investigation?

Scripture says: “To whom much is given, much will be required.” Then why do we seem to require the most from those who have the least? If responsibility means anything, it should increase with power. Instead, we have built systems where accountability travels downward while power travels upward. We need to reverse that.

What If the System Had a Case File?

This isn't only about child welfare. Consider criminal justice. When an individual commits a crime, we investigate the behavior. When the behavior happens again, we examine the pattern. We even have a word for repeated offending: Recidivism.

We ask the individual: Why did you do it again? Why didn't the intervention work? Why didn't you change?

Now turn those questions around.

What happens when an institution repeatedly produces the same outcomes? Generations incarcerated. Children losing parents. People returning from prison without stable housing or employment. Communities experiencing the consequences again and again.

We study the individual's pattern.

What if we studied the system's?

What would its case file show? What did it learn? What changed? Why did it do it again? Individual accountability and institutional accountability are not opposites.

If we believe in accountability, it should apply to everyone.

Especially those with the most power.

Follow the Money

And no serious investigation stops before following the money. Where does it go? Who receives it? What gets funded after harm occurs? What gets funded to prevent the harm? Who benefits from maintaining the current structure?

And perhaps most importantly:

Does the money follow the people experiencing the problem or the institutions managing it?

Systems become economies.

Agencies have budgets. Providers have contracts. Organizations have employees. Entire industries develop around human suffering. That does not mean everyone involved is motivated by money. But it would be irresponsible not to examine the incentives.

Scripture warns: “The love of money is a root of all kinds of evil.” So here's a question worth investigating: What happens when solving a problem threatens the institutions financially dependent on managing it?

Follow the money. Show Me the Fruit. Jesus gave us a remarkably simple standard:

“You will recognize them by their fruits.” So let's use it. You say the system protects children? Show me the fruit. You say it strengthens families? Show me the fruit. You say it creates public safety? Show me the fruit. You say billions are being spent helping people? Show me the fruit.

Did people's lives improve? Did families become stronger? Did communities become safer? Did disparities shrink? Did the harm stop? What did it produce? Because that is the evidence.

Do We Actually Want the Truth?

And now the investigation becomes personal. Scripture warns about people who surround themselves with teachers who tell their itching ears what they want to hear. What if that warning applies beyond doctrine? What happens when the evidence threatens something we desperately want to believe? What happens when the fruit contradicts the mission statement? What happens when people affected by a system tell us something different from what the institution tells us about itself?

Do we investigate? Or do we explain it away?

Do we want truth? Or reassurance? That question should be especially uncomfortable for those of us who claim to follow Christ.

We love to quote: “The truth will set you free.” But do we still want the truth when it threatens our funding? Our profession? Our reputation? Our institution? Our belief that we are the ones helping?

It is easy to love truth when truth costs us nothing.

The real test is whether we still choose it when truth requires us to change.

The System Has to Answer the Door

For generations, systems have knocked on people's doors. They have investigated families. Examined their histories. Questioned their decisions. Documented their failures. And imposed consequences based on what their actions produced.

Now change the name on the case file.

Alleged perpetrator: The system.

Examine its history. Identify its patterns. Follow its money. Measure its outcomes. Ask what it knew. Ask when it knew. Ask what it did once it knew.

And then apply the standard Scripture gave us: “You will know them by their fruits.”

We cannot judge families by outcomes while judging systems by intentions. We cannot demand greater accountability from people with less power. And we cannot claim to want truth while refusing to examine what our institutions actually produce.

The mother whose door the investigator knocked on had to answer for what happened to her child even though she never intended for her child to be harmed.

Now the allegation is against the system.

It's time to answer the door.