Risky business

For Massachusetts social workers, a routine visit can be a matter of life or death

by Sarah McNaught

In 1994, after working as a DSS investigator in Fields Corner for eight years, 47-year-old Linda Silva transferred to the agency's South Yarmouth office, closer to her family on the Cape.

On September 12 of this year, as Silva stood beside her red Saab at about 7:30 p.m., a bullet wound to the back of her head ended a life that, friends say, was full of optimism and hope.

Silva's car was on the edge of a parking lot at the corner of Alden and Bradford Streets, in Provincetown. Several employees from the Cumberland Farms convenience store next door and Eddie's Pastry Shop across the street say they heard the single shot, but thought it was a firecracker or a tire blowout.

According to Detective Lieutenant James Cummings, who is investigating the case, murder is rare in Provincetown. "This was a shock to many people," he says, adding that he cannot comment further on the Silva case.

Witnesses say they saw a man in a yellow shirt drive away from the spot in a dark-colored pickup truck. Many of Silva's coworkers believe her assailant was an angry client, and state police who are investigating the case have not ruled that out.

"She had her share of disgruntled clients," says a friend of Silva's. "She had a difficult job as an investigator. It was a go-in-and-get-out-quick situation, and many of the people she dealt with didn't like her for that."

If those suspicions are true, Silva wouldn't be the first DSS worker in Massachusetts to be stalked, assaulted, or even murdered by a client. Fact is, DSS social workers are constantly finding themselves in danger -- essentially putting their lives on the line for the 90,000 children who need state protection.

Silva's murder has caused renewed concern among the more than 1300 DSS social workers statewide, who say that for at least five years they have been begging for more security in their jobs. Specifically, they've requested that the state install panic buttons under their desks, provide cellular phones for their cars, and offer police escorts for potentially dangerous home visits.

In response to these demands, State Senator Therese Murray (D-Plymouth) and Representative Paul Kollios (D-Millbury) chaired legislative hearings on October 29 to request additional funds for DSS-worker protection. DSS commissioner Linda Carlisle testified that she is committed to increased funding, but that she was at a loss as to how to get it. Meanwhile, according to the DSS, there were 49 reports of violence against social workers in fiscal year 1996, and there have been 22 reports so far in fiscal year '97, which began July 1.

"Violence against social workers is dramatically underreported," says Lorraine Carli, spokesperson for the DSS. "We would like them to report everything, such as threats over the phone, but it doesn't always happen."

VERBAL THREATS AND physical assaults are a way of life for DSS workers, as 41-year-old Eileen Velez of the Weymouth office can attest.

Velez has been with the DSS since 1977 and has been a social worker since 1980.

"I had a client who had done time for abuse and neglect of her children," says Velez, remembering an incident from 1994. "She had a reputation for being violent. Everyone knew that."

During her second home visit with the woman, Velez was attacked as she was sitting in the woman's boardinghouse room taking notes. "Her boyfriend went outside to explain to a neighbor that everything was okay, and she locked me and her into the room," remembers Velez. "She proceeded to scream at me. And when I went to check on the infant, she told me she would kill me if I touched her baby."

Eventually, police were called to the house, and, as they tried to arrest the woman, she bit and kicked one of the officers.

"I have spoken to police who say they wouldn't go into some of the situations we do," says Velez, "and they are armed with guns. We are armed with a pen and a notebook."

Velez was also a member of an employee-run "safety committee" five years ago. The group's recommendations to the commissioner included bulletproof glass in DSS offices to separate clients from workers and receptionists, regular police details at the front doors of the DSS offices, and police escorts on some of the more dangerous home visits. But none of the committee's proposals was approved by Carlisle, and the group disbanded. Velez has since purchased her own pager and cellular phone.

Until two years ago, state troopers were regularly stationed at the doors of DSS offices that handled dangerous cases. Troopers also accompanied workers on home visits and attended meetings with clients that took place in the offices. Then Commissioner Carlisle complained of budget restraints, and the trooper presence diminished.

"Many of the workers' cases involve families where drugs or violence are issues," says Ed Malloy, president of the Service Employees International Union Local 509, which represents DSS social workers. "They should not be going into those homes alone. Sometimes things can get really heated."

Other workers have come forward with stories about how their lives have been put in jeopardy:

* In 1994, two social workers in Springfield found themselves in the middle of a riot involving more than 100 people as they tried to remove an infant from a dangerous home.

* A social worker in Cape Cod three years ago had a machete held to her throat while another worker, who happened to be seven months pregnant, was forced to remove a child from the violent household they were visiting.

* Two other social workers whose stories have been corroborated by Local 509 say that a few years ago a colleague was murdered in her home by an "unknown assailant." She had previously filed reports of threats; they were never investigated. In another instance, a worker had a gun held to her head during a routine home visit. The union couldn't pursue the issue because the woman, badly shaken, resigned the next day.

One response to such incidents may be a buddy system, in which workers go out in pairs. However, that poses a personnel problem: doubling up would mean workers could cover only half as many cases. And social workers aren't being hired as quickly as Governor William Weld promised two years ago: to date, only 18 of the 127 workers Weld promised have been hired. And that may be all, since the remaining $1.7 million slated for the hiring of more workers was returned to the state's General Fund in July.

The DSS's Carli says that although the current practice -- assigning a state trooper to DSS offices temporarily after a threat is made -- may not be the most effective, she isn't sure what else the state can afford. "The price tag for putting an officer in every DSS office statewide on a permanent basis would be astronomical," she says.

For now, social workers at the Cape Cod office are raising money for a $10,000 reward for the capture of Linda Silva's assailant.

"They gave us six cellular phones and are promising bulletproof glass, but I've heard that before," says Malloy. "Workers are still expected to go it alone, no matter what the risk."

Sarah McNaught can be reached at smcnaught[a]phx.com.