[May 25, 2013] State of Missouri failed Lucas Barnes Webb time and time again, documents show Tweet May 26, 2013 (The Kansas City Star - McClatchy-Tribune Information Services via COMTEX) -- The bruises and welts and repeated hotline calls on Lucas Barnes Webb weren't enough. For state child welfare workers, those warning signs failed to meet Missouri's high standard of proof for child abuse. But it wasn't just lack of evidence that led workers to close his case and keep the boy in his Holt, Mo., home. Records show that they also made a series of missteps and questionable judgments that ultimately allowed for yet one more hotline call on Lucas. This one after Lucas was rushed to the hospital where he was pronounced dead. In 373 pages amassed over three years, the Missouri Department of Social Services' file on Lucas provides a rare and extensive look into the child welfare world, where underpaid and overloaded caseworkers must make tough decisions. And in this case, the state failed to save the 4-year-old boy's life. The records, which the agency released to The Kansas City Star a week ago, show: --When Lucas told an adult last year that his stepmom had kicked him in the stomach, a state child welfare investigator didn't have him examined by a doctor. No one checked his stomach. --When he said a "monster had played with his peepee," records don't indicate the investigator ever asked him about it. --And on Oct. 10 -- the day caseworkers learned he hadn't been at preschool for 21/2 weeks -- they closed the case without even seeing him to confirm he was OK. Five days later he died. Though several people over three years had called to report multiple signs of possible abuse and an emaciated frame, the concerns -- in the eyes of child welfare investigators -- weren't considered enough to substantiate the allegations. Instead, the allegations were always explained away by the family. He had been sick. He ran into a dresser. Fell on the deck, on the boat, down the stairs. The boy was clumsy, his father and stepmother said, and bruised easily. Lucas' autopsy revealed a battered boy whose ribs had been fractured and separated six to eight weeks earlier. The fatal injury, the medical examiner said, was a blow to his abdomen in the 24 hours before he died. Documents the department had declined for months to release show that the state child welfare system failed Lucas time and time again, including a push to close the hotline investigation within the 30-day deadline set by state law. "This is the worst thing ever," said Brooke Barnes, Lucas' mother, who lost custody of her son early last year after a bitter court battle with his father. "DSS let something slide and my son died. If they'd stepped in, he could have at least been put in a foster home. And he wouldn't have had to suffer." The agency itself has acknowledged that two staffers were let go after officials say policy wasn't followed in Lucas' case. When asked what the violations were, a spokeswoman provided website links to six policy sections spelled out in the department's child welfare manual. Those sections are too broad and lengthy to determine what specific policy violations occurred. A former investigations manager with the state Children's Division reviewed the file last week and said Lucas' case contained "egregious mistakes" and was among the worst that the former manager has seen. There were three opportunities -- when two investigators and a supervisor either met with the boy or reviewed the case -- to save Lucas. All were missed, the veteran manager said. Lucas' stepmom and dad, Melissa Webb, 33, and Justin Webb, 34, have been charged in Clinton County with second-degree murder and felony child abuse in the boy's death. Melissa Webb's attorney said she denies all the allegations. Justin Webb's attorney has not responded to requests for comment. Records show the boy first came into contact with state workers in the early fall of 2009, when he was living with his mother. Someone called the state child abuse and neglect hotline and reported that Lucas had severe diaper rash. That was the first of at least five hotline calls -- two of which appear to have come from child care providers -- that would span a three-year period. Two of the calls went through family assessment to see whether services were needed. But the records show none were. Three of the calls were found to be unsubstantiated. Lucas was never removed from his home where he lived with his father, stepmother and younger half brother. Justin Webb was awarded custody of Lucas in February 2012 after a lengthy battle with Brooke Barnes. She acknowledged in a recent interview that she had struggled at times and had been jailed briefly on a bad-check charge, but she said Lucas always had good care and was never harmed on her watch. The most glaring missteps in Lucas' child welfare case, according to his file, appear to have occurred during the investigation of the September hotline call. That came on Sept. 7 and included observations made over several days by someone close to Lucas. The caller reported that from Aug. 23 to early September, Lucas told adults several things: His stomach hurt after his stepmother kicked him there when she was mad. His father made him eat pencils. And once, when he wanted more pizza, his father punished him by forcing him to run outside in the dark and refusing to let him come in. He also talked about the monster and his private parts. On the day the call came in, the young boy's physical condition was another concern. He was frail, the caller said, "grossly thin" with a distended belly from lack of food. A child welfare investigator on call and a Clinton County sheriff's deputy went to the home, where Justin Webb denied any abuse. The two officials went outside to speak to Lucas alone. He had discolored bruises on his face and said he had gotten hurt when he tripped on the family's boat. He told the two officials that he felt safe at home. The entire visit lasted 30 minutes. Records don't indicate that the investigator looked at the boy's belly or asked him any questions about food, about his comment regarding his "peepee" or whether his dad had refused to let him inside after he asked for more pizza. It appears no physician was consulted. Two days later, the investigator went back to the home for 10 minutes, according to the records. She observed the family eating spaghetti and spoke to Lucas' half brother, who said he felt safe and happy at home. The next day, records show that the person who made the hotline report called the investigator to reiterate the concern about a lack of food and Lucas' frail condition, which the caller described as "heartbreaking." Still, there's no evidence that any physician was consulted. In early October, a string of emails began circulating between supervisors discussing the need to close out Lucas' case before it became overdue. State law requires hotline investigations to be concluded within 30 days. The case supervisor emailed a superior saying she didn't have complete notes from the original investigator assigned the case. That investigator, who was out of the office at that time, had little involvement with the case, according to the documents. "I will need to go through her files, as I know there are notes missing," the supervisor said in that email. She told the superior she could farm out the case to close it if that was what was needed. Her superior again stressed in an email that the case needed to be closed: "Your choices are: farm out or complete!" Some emails in the file included the subject line "caseloads," but the content was redacted. It isn't known how high caseloads were in that judicial circuit at the time Lucas' case was investigated. An agency spokeswoman did not address that question in a return email to The Star. Lucas died five days after the September hotline call was found to be unsubstantiated. Then came more emails -- with information in some of them redacted. At one point there was a lengthy explanation from the supervisor, who had ended up closing the case using investigative notes. "Had I had all the information that we have now, then the report would have been different," the supervisor wrote. However, she said, "I went with the information I had at the time I closed it. "...I also want to note that I can't re-do every case that the workers go out on so I put my trust in the others involved." Lucas was cremated and his ashes put into small ceramic piggy banks in the shapes of airplanes and trains. Barnes often sends messages to her little boy through the Facebook page R.I.P Lucas Webb. We Love You! And those who knew the boy from The Acorn Patch preschool remember his "light-up-my-day smile." Lucas started attending the early childhood education center run by the Kearney School District when he was 3. He had been there about a year when he died. "The staff certainly adored him," said Jacque Banks, the assistant superintendent for Kearney schools who oversees The Acorn Patch. "He really liked to tease. ... He had a great sense of humor, the most beautiful eyes." To reach Judy L. Thomas, call 816-234-4334 or send email to [email protected]. To reach Laura Bauer, call 816-234-4944 or send email to [email protected]. ___ (c)2013 The Kansas City Star (Kansas City, Mo.) Visit The Kansas City Star (Kansas City, Mo.) at www.kansascity.com Distributed by MCT Information Services [ Back To TMCnet.com's Homepage ]