SALT LAKE CITY, July 13 — The death
of Tony Haynes, a 14-year-old, in the Arizona desert this month is
increasing calls for stronger regulation of outdoor camps for
troubled youths, an industry that has grown substantially over the
last 20 years.
At least 31 teenagers in 11 states
have died at these camps since 1980, including 3 this year, in
widely diverse circumstances.
In Arizona, investigators said they
were told that before Tony Haynes died counselors physically abused
him and forced him to eat dirt.
In February, Ryan Lewis, a 14-
year-old, hanged himself at a wilderness therapy camp in West
Virginia. His parents have asserted that the camp operators did not
recognize the severity of his depression.
That same month in Florida, Michael
Wiltsie, 12, died at a camp for troubled boys after a 320-pound
counselor restrained him on the ground for nearly 30 minutes.
These are exceptional cases, given
the thousands of children each year who attend such camps, normally
without incident. Parents who enroll their children and teachers
often credit the camps with taking young people away from gangs,
drugs and alcohol and instilling in them a new maturity and sense of
self-confidence. They operate on the theory that rugged conditions
and tough discipline can break antisocial behavior or even criminal
habits. State and local courts also use the programs, as an
alternative to jail.
Yet the deaths and reports of abuses
are putting increased pressure on states to adopt regulations to
govern the roughly 400 boot camps operating around the country.
While most states have laws against child abuse and endangerment,
many do not specifically compel these camps to meet certain
standards for procedures and personnel.
"There are significant disparities
from state to state," said Kimball DeLaMare, a camp owner in Utah
and the chairman of the National Association of Therapeutic Schools
and Programs, a trade group. "Over all, they have not done too much,
which is one of the reasons we are trying to develop our own
standards."
Arizona is among those states that
have done the least. "You have to provide more documents to get a
fishing license than to run a camp for young boys," said Chris
Cummiskey, a Democratic state senator. "We require nothing to
demonstrate you have the qualifications to engage in this type of
activity."
Industry officials say they welcome
additional governmental scrutiny of the camps, some of which operate
on contracts with state prison systems. "Every state that allows
wilderness programs needs to have regulations in place," said Mark
Lawrence, an owner of a camp in South Carolina and the chairman of
the National Association of Therapeutic Wilderness Camps, another
trade group. "And somebody has to monitor them."
Children's advocates and parents of
children who have died under supervision of camp personnel say
abuses would end altogether if states got tougher, requiring camp
operators to have suitable backgrounds in education, psychology or
social work. "This is one of the big gaps and a big part of the
problem," said Mark I. Soler, president of the Youth Law Center in
Washington, a public interest law firm. "As a result, kids are not
protected, and they don't even understand that they have rights.
They believe the abusive treatment they get is routine."
Critics also argue that camps should
have medical personnel on site, which was not the case when Tony
Haynes fell unconscious in the desert. After camp counselors called
911, the boy was driven to a hospital, where he died.
Cathy Sutton, who has campaigned for
governmental oversight since her 15-year-old daughter, Michelle,
died at a Utah camp 11 years ago, said: "The industry is getting so
big, it's harder to regulate. That's why we need national
regulations for these camps or we should abolish them altogether."
The deaths of Ms. Sutton's daughter
and two other young people at Utah outdoor camps in the early 1990's
prompted the state to become the first in the nation to put in place
rules specifically for the camps. The regulations mandated age and
background requirements for counselors, a minimum age of 13 for
students, and guidelines for adequate supplies of food, water and
even sunscreen. State monitors are required to visit the camps
several times a year, sometimes unannounced.
Ken Stettler, who helped develop the
rules for the Utah Department of Human Services, conceded that state
officials only responded after several children had died, saying,
"States tend to be reactionary, rather than proactionary."
In the last few years, Mr. Stettler
said, he has worked with officials in Nevada and Idaho to draft
similar regulations. Other states where adolescents have died in
outdoor programs, including Florida, Texas and Oregon, have also
tightened their regulations, he said. The West Virginia Legislature
is expected to debate new laws when it convenes next year.
But monitoring these camps poses a
fiscal burden for states. For that reason, Hawaii has banned outdoor
camps, and some states with regulations do not have the resources to
enforce them.
In many states, oversight is minimal.
In Arizona, where 10 children have died since 1989, the state has
not enacted any regulations — despite such highly publicized cases
as the 1998 death of Nicholaus Contreraz, 16, which led to murder
charges against six staff members at the Arizona Boys Camp in
Oracle. The charges were later dropped, but the family won a $1
million settlement of a wrongful-death lawsuit.
"We had extensive hearings and a lot
of clamoring to strengthen regulations and oversight," said Mr.
Cummiskey, the Arizona legislator, of the response to the deaths.
"But we have a Legislature with conservatives who take a skewed view
that oversight and regulation should be left to the free market."
David Petersen, a Republican state
senator, disagreed. "I haven't seen any real efforts by anyone to
champion the cause," he said. "Sometimes you need a jolt to drive
home the issue. With this latest tragedy, I do believe we will get
involved."
For now, the industry is trying to
devise its own standards. Of course, meeting those standards —
providing doctors and better-trained personnel, for instance — might
also increase the cost of running the camps, making them less
affordable to poor and middle-income families.
There are also problems that will
never be solved through regulation. Michael Conner, who runs a
nonprofit consumer protection organization for wilderness therapy
programs, said parents had to assume some responsibility for the
safety of their children. "The biggest problem is that people don't
always know what they're getting into," he said.
Paul and Diana Lewis of East
Longmeadow, Mass., learned that problems could arise even after
thoroughly investigating a camp. Their son, Ryan, killed himself in
February, while attending Alldredge Academy in West Virginia. After
being improperly medicated, he cut himself with a knife four times
before asking counselors to take the weapon away, Mrs. Lewis said.
When he asked to call his parents, his request was denied.
The next day, counselors returned the
knife to the boy. Hours later, he was found hanging from a tree not
far from the campsite. The authorities ruled it a suicide. Camp
officials said they had violated no state regulations.
