Editor's column: A boy's death; an investigation

There are few more opaque entities in society than agencies that investigate child abuse. Caseworkers are sworn to secrecy. Files are closed to public review. Names of parents and children are zealously guarded.

Such confidentiality rules, mandated by law, are designed to protect. To help. To ensure fairness. To give children the very best opportunity to have their health, psychological well-being and future guarded as much as possible.

And that's exactly how it should be.

One perhaps unintentional side effect, however, is that the laws make it difficult for journalists to unravel the truth when the worst happens, and a child previously known to "the system" is injured and/or dies of abuse.

Today, lead investigative reporter Mary Beth Pfeiffer pulls back the curtain to expose as least some of what can be known about the role of Dutchess County's Child Protective Services department leading up to the death of young Mason DeCosmo.

An active, endearing toddler, Mason died Aug. 5 of horrific injuries inflicted, law-enforcement authorities allege, at the hands of his mother's live-in boyfriend at the time, Kenneth Stahli. He faces second-degree murder charges. Mason died in Ulster County a month after leaving Dutchess, where an abuse probe had been done.

He was 32 months old.

While records are sealed, Pfeiffer relied on Family Court testimony, documents provided to the Journal, publicly available statistical data, and interviews with a broad range of sources. She painted a portrait of a child protective agency that had to make real-world choices understandable, complex and tragic. Even from the outside, with only a bystander's perspective, it's fair to say that no child-abuse investigation could ever be easy or comfortable.

Reporting in stories often takes divergent turns. Details emerge with new information. Questions get raised. Answers are sought. Confirmations come or don't come. Avenues need to be explored. Concepts and focuses transform. Often, some details just don't have answers. For this story, three months in the making, the shape of what published didn't confirm until this past week.

Think of the story as a three-legged stool:

• One leg was supported by multiple sources — never less than two, often more — that spoke to the agency's involvement in DeCosmo's life and its ultimate decision to close the case.

• A second leg consisted of official sources and documents that depicted an agency with a track record of reported repeat abuse and neglect 27 percent higher than the state average. That rating prompted questions about how Mason's case was handled, questions we address in our report.

• The third provided ultimate balance and support — pointing out reasons why the initial report regarding Mason would have made the review of the case a low priority, as well as how and why caseworkers could understandably miss a man new in Mason's mother's life. This man, Stahli, was not the subject of the initial report to child-protection authorities.

The Journal's ultimate goal in this story, part of a series that will be ongoing, is the truth. Truth that helps right wrongs for future babies and children. Truth that is fair to all sides.

We believe the story achieved that.

We welcome your thoughts.

Thank you for reading the Journal. We do appreciate it. See you next week. Enjoy every moment of the holiday season.