I've found my perspective shifting when I read stories like this. I used to get angry when I considered the defendant's point of view as they navigated a Kafka-esque system that seems designed to do nothing but ruin their lives. Now I find myself thinking more about the kids involved and getting even angrier. I used to work for Child Protective Services back in my home town, and maybe the particular agency I worked with was just unusually short on resources, but we didn't have spare foster parents, money, or time to yank kids out of homes where they were living with their actual parents and were in no noticeable danger. Where does New York find the time? And all the extra foster parents? And what is the point of doing that, anyway? Why are marijuana and heroin being used in the same sentence like they're similar substances?
I'm trying to keep my blood pressure down while I'm pregnant, but New York is not helping me do that. Grumble.