By E.J. Montini
The Arizona Republic
May 12, 1998

What a difference a dead kid doesn't make. With each passing day the value of one lifeless boy, which meant nothing to the politicians to begin with, diminishes even more.

There is no limit to his lack of value.

It's been more than two months since 16-year-old Nicholaus Contreraz took his final excruciating breaths at Arizona Boys Ranch at Oracle.

More than two months since a gasping, frightened and frightfully ill kid was forced to do push-ups over a bucket of defecation-smeared clothing. More than two months since he collapsed beneath the jeers of his keepers.

It happened on March 2 in our state under our watch. And, in response to this brutal tragedy, the Arizona Legislature has done exactly this:

Nothing.

But then, it was only a kid.

It's not like he was someone important.

Four years ago, when social workers from state Child Protective Services warned their bosses of the potential dangers juveniles faced at the ranch, the Legislature launched a swift and unrelenting attack -- on the social workers.

Witch hunts

The then-speaker of the House of Representatives, Mark Killian, wrote a letter to the CPS workers' boss, Linda Blessing, saying, "I believe that certain individuals have engaged in unsubstantiated witch hunts of (Boys Ranch)."

State Rep. Bob Burns decided to conduct a witch hunt of his own, staging very public legislative hearings in which he also expressed disdain and distrust of CPS workers while singing the praises of the ranch.

Burns wrote to Blessing and claimed "a number of innocent people's careers may have been irreversibly damaged by" CPS. He demanded explanations "in a timely manner."

Back then, the politicians didn't waste any time.

This wasn't some dead kid.

This was a group of powerful pals, the kind of folks who vote, who might make campaign contributions, who chat you up at the local Chamber of Commerce.

Politicians like Burns and Killian also were more than willing to talk about the ranch in those days. They'd tell you how great it was and how wrong it was to criticize it.

Now, we hear nothing.

Now, even after ranch officials acknowledged the cruel treatment of Nicholaus Contreraz, and fired people, and said they will close the Oracle campus, and admitted "that staff actions totally disregarded established disciplinary policies," there is silence.

"How come they're not doing anything?" Nick's grandmother, Connie Woodward, asked me.

'How come?'

"How come the politicians in Arizona aren't trying to find out what goes on out there? How come they're not checking into the staff that would do such a thing? How come they allow the ranch to keep operating, like nothing went wrong?"

I don't know, I tell her.

And the politicians are in no hurry to tell me. Killian is no longer in the Legislature, but I've been trying since last week to reach Rep. Burns.

He's a busy man, though, and this is only one dead kid.

Law-enforcement agencies continue looking into what happened to Contreraz. Gov. Jane Hull has ordered the state Department of Economic Security to investigate. The boy's mother and grandmother have hired lawyers in California and most likely will sue.

California halted new placements to the ranch and has removed some boys. Maricopa County Juvenile Court also has stopped sending boys to the ranch.

Through it all, the Arizona Legislature continues only to demonstrate its disdain for children. It bickers while kids get unequal education. It squabbles while poor children go without health care. It says nothing when a boy needlessly dies.

Then again, it could be that silence is better than sham; that no show is better than a dog-and-pony show.

What good is a legislative "hearing," after all, if what's said falls on deaf ears?

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