Foster father gets 4-year sentence in abuse of girl

Foster father gets 4-year sentence in abuse of girl

August 14, 2007

By Maureen O'Hagan

Seattle Times

Enrique Fabregas was known as a character about town who'd tip his fedora to passers-by, a flamboyant waiter whose Spanish accent charmed fine diners.

Shuffling into King County Superior Court in jail clothes Monday, his hair long and unkempt, the charm had faded. Fabregas, 53, a church-choir member, was sentenced to four years in prison for sexually abusing a foster daughter.

"There is a long history of cruel exploitation," Judge Richard Eadie said in imposing the sentence, which was at the top of the sentencing-guidelines range.

In May, about a year after being jailed on child-sex charges, Fabregas pleaded guilty to sexual exploitation of a minor and communicating with a minor for immoral purposes. He entered an Alford plea, in which the defendant does not admit guilt but acknowledges he likely would be convicted if the case went to trial.

In a search of his house, Redmond police found sexually explicit photos of his foster daughter, Estera Tamas, now 20, who said Fabregas began abusing her as a young teen. Fabregas admitted taking photos but said Tamas was 18 at the time, which would have meant it wasn't a crime.

Even as he was abusing Estera, he maintained a good reputation in the community, counted police officers among his friends and managed to convince state Child Protective Services (CPS) workers of his innocence, despite dozens of complaints against him.

"I've never run across anybody who was such a master of deceit," recently retired Redmond Police Detective Jennifer Baldwin said after the hearing.

In statements to the court, Tamas and her sisters told Eadie the abuse went on for years.

Estera Tamas maintained a steady voice as she told the judge that she has flashbacks of Fabregas abusing her sexually and physically, and threatening to kill her if she told anyone. Once, she recalled, when Fabregas learned she had confided in some friends, he "let out a loud chuckle" and proclaimed his innocence to them, making her look like a lunatic and a liar. "It made me feel like garbage," she said.

Although The Seattle Times generally does not publish the names of sex-crime victims, Estera Tamas agreed to be named.

Two younger sisters also read statements describing repeated incidents of physical abuse, including beating and choking, as well as emotional abuse. Both described being locked in a room for days.

Ruth Tamas, 19, said one of Fabregas' favorite punishments was making her copy verses out of the Bible for hours, often on topics such as lying and stealing. When she finished, he would rip the paper up and force her to start again, she said. He kept Ruth's handwritten "confessions" to present to CPS investigators when she later made allegations against him.

Jennifer Tamas, 17, recalled that Fabregas forced her and Ruth to kneel for hours on the floor with their arms in the air. Then he would leave the house, telling the girls he had trained a video camera on them; if they flinched, they would be killed. The girls believed him.

"By 10 minutes, your knees ache," Jennifer Tamas said. "By 20 minutes, you lose feeling in your arms. By an hour, you begin to shake and cry." But they didn't dare move.

Earlier this year, a Seattle attorney filed a $45 million lawsuit against the state Department of Social and Health Services on behalf of Estera and Ruth Tamas and a 13-year-old adoptive daughter of Fabregas'. The suit alleges the state failed to recognize the abuse and pull the children from the home, despite numerous complaints. (Jennifer Tamas is not part of the lawsuit. She lived with Fabregas for a time and then moved in with a different foster family.)

On Monday, two people spoke on Fabregas' behalf. One, the mother of the girl Fabregas had adopted, said she didn't believe the Tamas sisters. Another, a church-choir member, said he never saw anything amiss.

But Fabregas didn't speak during the hearing. As he left the courtroom, he turned to the three girls, winked and said a single word.

"Ciao."

Maureen O'Hagan: 206-464-2562 or mohagan@seattletimes.com