There seems to be quite a bit of covering up happening within ACS.
This observation comes from a recent Department of Investigation report that highlights how the Department of Children’s Services is not sharing crucial records with oversight bodies in New York.
The report, titled “Denied Access: Challenges to DOI’s Oversight of the Child Welfare System,” reveals that the department frequently denies DOI the ability to look into claims of misconduct or abuse by caseworkers or to access records regarding ACS’s involvement with families of deceased children.
For instance, take the tragic case of Brian Santiago and his mother, who were discovered dead in their apartment in August 2024.
A local newspaper reported that Brian’s mother had been investigated by ACS, which had temporarily taken Brian away from her custody prior to his death, suggesting a situation where her son, who had special needs and required a feeding tube, could have suffered neglect.
Despite the potential implications of this case for DOI, they state they are “unable to determine whether earlier interactions could have led to a lifesaving intervention for Brian.”
Similarly, DOI can’t look into the death of 5-year-old Denille Timberlake, who died after his father’s methadone overdose just a month before Brian’s case.
The NYPD shared that this family had a documented history of neglect cases, but what happened during those investigations remains unclear.
In 2023 alone, there were 45 deaths linked to ACS, yet DOI could only verify records for 25.
So, what’s stopping the Department of Investigation from probing deeper?
State laws restrict DOI from accessing two types of records. The first involves cases where child abuse claims were investigated but deemed unfounded.
To grasp the absurdity of this policy, consider a murder investigation. If police interview a prime suspect but find no substantial evidence to charge him right away, later questions about earlier failures in the investigation would go unanswered, as no records would be available to assess what went wrong.
Likewise, when ACS overlooks clear signs of abuse or neglect and later, the child dies, it raises the question: shouldn’t we examine how ACS may have failed and what warning signs were missed?
This kind of policy seems to, in a way, reward negligence.
The second category of death records off-limits to DOI includes those classified by ACS as “low risk,” which are redirected from full investigations to a non-investigative approach known as Collaborative Assessment, Response, Engagement and Support, aimed merely at evaluating family concerns.
Since the citywide rollout of CARES in 2020, its footprint has grown to account for 25% of cases.
But seriously, are all these families genuinely low risk?
Some parents dealing with illicit drug use or criminal acts might end up in CARES, while others who seem to be struggling with poverty could be grappling with deeper issues like addiction or significant mental health problems.
It would certainly be beneficial to know if we might be underestimating risks in these situations, but alas, this flawed policy keeps us in the dark.
Even when DOI is informed, these loopholes hinder them from accessing a complete picture.
In 2025, DOI was made aware of 18 child death cases connected to ACS, yet lacked full medical histories for 17 of them.
The previous years showed similar patterns; in 2024, it was 13 out of 16, and 19 out of 25 in 2023.
DOI’s responsibilities also extend to investigating instances where ACS employees are accused of wrongdoing.
For instance, from 2023 through 2026, DOI received complaints regarding sexual misconduct by ACS staff against minors.
When DOI sought access to the records of these workers to check for possible repeat offenses, the state Department of Children and Family Services declined.
OCFS justified its decision based on victim privacy—without ever consulting the victims directly—which raises serious concerns about the potential conflict of interest when OCFS is the one controlling ACS records.
This lack of transparency should outrage the public.
Resolving these concerns requires legislative action at the state level.
Unfortunately, the prevailing “ignore the issues” mentality regarding child welfare runs deep in both state and city leadership.
This same mindset fosters policies that deter anonymous reporting of abuse, prevent teachers from discussing concerns with ACS, downplay the dangers of a parent’s substance abuse or criminal actions, and even suggest that investigating abuse is merely a form of structural racism.
It’s high time to remove those who perpetuate abuse and the bureaucrats shielding them.
