Why don't authorities want Desiree Collins' story told? No one has found the 14-year-old's body, but Los Angeles County prosecutors are trying a reputed gang member who they believe shot the foster child in February 2002.
Desiree's case file no doubt offers clues as to what went so terribly wrong. The thick stack of notes and court reports probably hints at why the teenager ran away from her foster home and what social workers did -- or didn't do -- to keep her safe and in school. But the Department of Children and Family Services has steadfastly refused to open her file to reporters, insisting that Desiree's right to privacy, even in death, trumps the public's right to know whether the officials responsible for protecting the county's most vulnerable children properly supervised this girl.
Last month, a Superior Court judge ordered the foster-care agency to turn over Desiree's file to reporters -- a searingly sensible move. But it shouldn't take a murder and a court order to persuade child welfare officials to let the public shine light into the shadows where too many of the county's 30,000 foster children live.
Judges and lawmakers historically have closed court proceedings and records involving minors in a laudable effort to shield already traumatized children from further humiliation and stigma. But child welfare agencies also use those laws to keep the public from scrutinizing what they do.
