Trial raises troubling adoption questions

BY TODD COOPER

WORLD-HERALD STAFF WRITER

Foster mother Olympia Poydras had one question for Joleet "Joey" Poole on the day she was to turn over 1-year-old Davion Winrow for eventual adoption.

Are you ready?

Poole was silent. He shrugged.

"Well, I have to be, don't I?" he asked.

Poydras told him he didn't. She knew what it took to raise Davion - a child who had made great strides after being born to a crack cocaine-addled mother.

She knew that Poole was just 23 and had never raised a child. And she was concerned about the speed with which the Nebraska Department of Health and Human Services wanted to place the child in his care.

So after Poole reassured her he would be OK, she urged him to call her or bring back Davion if the child was ever in trouble.

"I kind of had my anxiety over Joey keeping him," she said.

Four days later, her concerns were confirmed. Poole called in a panic - saying Davion had fallen and gone stiff.

Now, Poole is on trial, accused of causing Davion's death. Douglas County District Judge Mark Ashford must decide whether he is guilty of child abuse resulting in death.

And the trial is putting a spotlight on HHS's placement of Davion with a single young man, earnest but without parental experience, who had a troubled upbringing of his own.

Poole's recovery from a difficult upbringing - he stabbed a child at age 8 and his mom was stripped of her parental rights - was part of the reason he liked the idea of adopting Davion, Poydras said.

"Joey told me he was interested in adopting Davion because he had been in foster care," Poydras testified Monday.

Indeed, Poole had succeeded in foster care. A guardian described him as an intelligent and musical kid who graduated from Norris High School in Firth, Neb.

By his early 20s, Poole was hired as music director at the church Poydras attended - Bethesda Temple Seventh-day Adventist Church.

He also had developed a horrid driving record - having been convicted several times of driving under suspension.

"He said he was cleaning up his life," Poydras said.

Meanwhile, Poydras had been cleaning up little Davion's.

Born Sept. 23, 2006, Davion immediately became a ward of HHS.

A grandmother with a soft spot for babies, Poydras received Davion when he was 3 months old.

Poydras had cared for four other foster babies and had received training to care for special-needs children.

Unlike other babies who cry themselves to sleep, Davion "would cry all day and all night."

Unsure what to do, Poydras called another woman who had cared for crack babies.

Get his room as dark as you can, the woman advised. Swaddle him snug. Then put him in his crib to cry it out.

Over the next nine months, Davion's fits dissipated.

And Poydras fell in love.

She would wake to him at the foot of his bed with his arms held high, begging for a hug.

Each week, Poydras said, she would take Davion to choir practice. Everyone, including Poole, took turns holding Davion.

By the summer of 2007, Poydras, 53, talked about adopting Davion. But her doctor advised against it, citing her battle with Crohn's disease.

So Poydras spread the word to friends and fellow choir members: Davion needed a home.

Up stepped Poole.

Poydras said she knew nothing of Poole's past but figured HHS officials would investigate. Though refusing to comment on Poole's case, HHS officials have said they do background checks on prospective parents.

That summer, Poole went through the required HHS training. And by late August 2007, HHS was ready to place the child with Poole full time on the path toward adoption.

Poydras put the brakes on the process. Concerned about Poole's inexperience, she said, she thought it would be better to gradually turn over Davion.

In August 2007, she began allowing Poole to take care of Davion during the day, then overnight, on weekends. Davion seemed to be doing well. So Poydras turned him over on his first birthday - Sept. 23, 2007.

That day, Poole and several family members threw a party for Davion at a pizza place. Poydras brought a birthday cake - in the shape of a dog - and Davion giggled and ate a piece.

She then gave "my baby" to Poole, with this reminder:

"If you cannot handle this," Poydras said, "let me know because I do not want him to go back into foster care."

After initially expressing some hesitation, Poole reassured Poydras that he would be OK.

Two days later, Poole called, saying that Davion had slipped on a rug and split his lip.

Poydras said she was relieved that Poole sought her advice.

Four days later, Poydras' phone rang at 2:30 a.m. Davion fell out of bed, Poole told her. He went stiff.

Poydras told him to rush Davion to the hospital. Seconds later, she said, Poole called back.

"You're going to be upset with me," he told her. "I have cement floors in my apartment."

By the time Davion arrived at the hospital, it was too late.

A seven-inch fracture zigzagged across the left side of his skull - causing massive bleeding on his brain, said Dr. Jerry Jones, a Douglas County coroner's physician.

Authorities say Poole gave four different versions of what happened - insisting it was accidental. Jones testified Monday that there was no way the fracture could have been accidental - a point likely to be disputed.

Meanwhile, Poydras is trying to sort out myriad questions.

Why did this happen?

Why would Poole ask for help one night but not two days later?

Why didn't she hang onto the little boy who clung to her?

"He would put his little arms up and grab you and hug you," she said. "That's love."

She wiped away a tear.

"It's so hard to let go."

• Contact the writer: 444-1275, todd.cooper@owh.co