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“She knew exactly what she was doing,” Jen says. Later that day Samantha, who was already potty trained, walked over to where the boy was playing, pulled down her pants, and peed on him. The caretaker soothed them both problem solved.

When she was about 20 months old, living with foster parents in Texas, she clashed with a boy in day care. She had no learning disabilities, no emotional scars, no signs of ADHD or autism.īut even at a very young age, Samantha had a mean streak. According to documentation from the state of Texas, Samantha met all her cognitive, emotional, and physical milestones. But what toddler isn’t? Her biological mother had been forced to give her up because she’d lost her job and home and couldn’t provide for her four children, but there was no evidence of abuse. They later had two more kids.įrom the start, Samantha seemed a willful child, in tyrannical need of attention. They already had three biological children, but they felt called to add Samantha (not her real name) and her half sister, who is two years older, to their family. Samantha’s parents, Jen and Danny, adopted Samantha when she was 2. “Because I thought that someday I was going to end up doing it on somebody.”Ĭheck out more from this issue and find your next story to read. “How did you feel when you were doing that to your stuffed animals?” “You were practicing on your stuffed animals?,” I ask her. She tells me that she pretended to kill her stuffed animals. Starting at age 6, Samantha began drawing pictures of murder weapons: a knife, a bow and arrow, chemicals for poisoning, a plastic bag for suffocating.

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“So I made a whole entire book about how to hurt people.” “I wanted the whole world to myself,” she says. But when we steer into uncomfortable territory-the events that led her to this juvenile-treatment facility nearly 2,000 miles from her family-Samantha hesitates and looks down at her hands.

She seems poised and cheerful, a normal preteen. She flashes a smile when I ask about her favorite subject (history), and grimaces when I ask about her least favorite (math). The girl needs supplies: new jeans, yoga pants, nail polish.Īt 11, Samantha is just over 5 feet tall and has wavy black hair and a steady gaze. Samantha’s mother is visiting from Idaho, as she does every six weeks, which means lunch off campus and an excursion to Target.

We’re sitting in a conference room at the San Marcos Treatment Center, just south of Austin, Texas, a space that has witnessed countless difficult conversations between troubled children, their worried parents, and clinical therapists. This is a good day, Samantha tells me: 10 on a scale of 10.

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Time out for women tote 2017