Obscured by fuss of Bouknight case Little boy lost: The legal questions in the case of Jacqueline Bouknight threaten to obscure the small boy whose whereabouts she has refused to reveal for seven years.

THE BALTIMORE SUN

He would be 9 now -- long past the tiny sailor suit and trusting baby smile he used to wear.

His chubby toddler's face with the soft brown eyes would have set about defining itself. He may still have that mop top of thick, curly hair, if he has not shaved it to fall into line with fashion. Somewhere in his bones would lie the physical memory of fractures he suffered just months out of the womb.

The child known as "Maurice M." is the biggest element in the case that bears his name, and the smallest. Sometimes the legal battles over the seven-year jailing of his mother, Jacqueline Bouknight, for refusing to tell a Baltimore Circuit judge where he is have threatened to blot him off the radar screen completely.

In moving for Ms. Bouknight's release at a hearing scheduled for today, state officials have acknowledged that they may never learn whether Maurice's mother got away with murder, as some suspect, or whether Ms. Bouknight successfully hid her boy from the foster care system she grew up in and abhorred.

His disappearance, in a way, has turned Maurice into something much larger than himself.

"I always thought of him as this little, little, helpless kid, just really little and brittle," said Susan Leviton, a professor at the University of Maryland law school and founder of Advocates for Children and Youth who has followed the case.

"You think of somebody who needs someone to care for him, and we all let him down. When I think about kids in the system, one of the things that comes to mind is their voicelessness. In the end, it's the voicelessness of Maurice."

The mystery of Maurice has led the lawyers, the investigators and even the judge to play roles that could cover every hypothesis. They visualize the growing pains of a child who may have been dead for many years; they stay awake nights worrying about the welfare of someone who may be a ghost. "I not only have to assume he's alive, I have to believe he's alive," said Mitchell Y. Mirviss, Maurice's court-appointed lawyer. "He's my client."

Police officers, private investigators and law students have looked for Maurice at various times over the years, in Texas, North Carolina, South Carolina and Baltimore. The FBI put together a computer-enhanced image of what he might have looked like as a 6-year-old. Lawyers and police have read through Ms. Bouknight's school and foster care records in the hope of finding leads to "Rachael Anderson," the friend to whom Ms. Bouknight most recently said she gave Maurice. So far, that person has not been found.

Maurice's story

The first and only child of Jacqueline Louise Bouknight was born Oct. 3, 1986, at what was then called Francis Scott Key Medical Center in East Baltimore. Two months later, the infant was at the hospital for treatment of pneumonia when doctors found fractures of his upper right arm and shoulder.

The boy was back again in January 1987 with a broken left femur, requiring a full body cast. During that hospitalization, Ms. Bouknight was seen shaking Maurice and throwing him into a crib, according to court records.

Strongly suspecting abuse, the Baltimore City Department of Social Services obtained a court order to put Maurice in foster care. But Ms. Bouknight won the baby back several months later, after taking child-rearing classes and working well with an in-home aide -- despite a psychological evaluation that warned against it. She promised to produce Maurice for DSS at any time.

Philip Maguire, the Child Protective Services worker who was charged with monitoring Ms. Bouknight and her baby, last saw them together Sept. 4, 1987, a month shy of Maurice's first birthday. Maurice "appeared well-fed with good affect and hygiene," according to the social worker's notes. Four days later, an in-home aide who worked with Ms. Bouknight saw her with the child for the last time. No notes were made about his condition during that visit.

Neighbors tell the story of a day sometime later that fall, when they noticed a large woman holding Maurice and loading his crib and other belongings into a blue station wagon with wood trim on the sides and out-of-state plates.

Other relatives and friends claimed to police that they had seen the baby later that winter and even in the spring of 1988, close to the time Mr. Maguire realized Maurice had disappeared. Some recalled Ms. Bouknight and the baby's father, Terrance Miles, talking about the child's being in North or South Carolina, or in Florida. John Brown, the former foster father with whom Ms. Bouknight lived off and on, told police he had seen the child as recently as March, around the time that Terrance Miles was killed in a drug-related shooting.

The next month, Ms. Bouknight was taken to court and ordered to produce Maurice. First she said he was with an aunt in Baltimore, then with a sister in Texas. Then she refused to say anything more. Judge David B. Mitchell ordered her jailed for civil contempt April 28, 1988, and she has remained there since.

Baltimore police began a homicide investigation, but never found proof that Maurice had met with foul play. Some officers and prosecutors remain convinced to this day that Ms. Bouknight killed Maurice.

But Detective Tyrone S. Francis, one of the police officers who found Ms. Bouknight cowering under a bed at Mr. Brown's home, became a central figure in the investigation. Ms. Bouknight seemed to trust him. He believed the story about the station wagon. He saw significance in Ms. Bouknight's references to her son in the present tense, and later was intrigued by a series of letters Ms. Bouknight sent to Maurice's grandmother from jail. The letters talked about Maurice gaining weight and doing well in school, in the care of a new, unnamed family.

But Detective Francis was taken on and off the case repeatedly during the intervening years. In the meantime, the administration of Baltimore City Police Commissioner Edward V. Woods failed to respond to offers of financial aid from the state Attorney General's Office for travel and other expenses that would be incurred in a thorough search for Maurice, according to attorneys in the case and court records.

In an April 1993 closed hearing, Ms. Bouknight said that she knew "in her heart" that Maurice was alive. What Ms. Bouknight has said in the past few months is not clear in detail. Investigators have tried to track a Rachael Anderson in Baltimore and in North Carolina. Believing he's alive

Without evidence to the contrary, DSS must take the legal position that Maurice is still alive. In a motion requesting that the contempt order against Ms. Bouknight be lifted, state Deputy Attorney General Ralph S. Tyler III has asked that Ms. Bouknight be ordered not to have any contact with her son, because she could still present a danger to him. Mr. Tyler also is asking Judge Mitchell to strike DSS' legal obligations for Maurice's safety because he cannot be found.

"I'm amazed that in this 7 1/2 years, no one's gone after DSS," said M. Cristina Gutierrez, Ms. Bouknight's lawyer. "No one has called them to account about how they 'lost track' of an infant in their care. I am truly offended when now they wax eloquent about children and this particular child."

For her part, Ms. Gutierrez said she, too, believes the child is alive. In court papers filed yesterday, attorneys for Ms. Bouknight indicated they will argue that no conditions should be placed on her release and that she poses no danger to Maurice.

If he is alive, it is likely that Maurice has no idea who he really is. "Personally, I do not believe he knows Jackie or any of the history," said Stuart Cohen, chief of litigation for the Legal Aid Bureau and another of Maurice's lawyers. "Anyone who could successfully keep a boy underground for all these years is going to be very careful. I think he has a new name. Any name other than Maurice."

For the moment, Maurice remains just a possibility to the parties in the case.

"I think you have to differentiate him from the case. The case has significance for the courts, and all sorts of legal principles and issues tacked onto it," Mr. Mirviss said.

"But the boy is a boy, and I don't think he should be martyred or objectified or anything. He is a boy. He had a hard life once. We hope he's OK now."

Copyright © 2019, The Baltimore Sun, a Baltimore Sun Media Group publication | Place an Ad
43°