Kansas’ child welfare system is often talked about in moments of crisis — when something has gone terribly wrong and emotions are running high. But understanding how the system actually works, why it struggles, and what truly helps kids requires stepping back from headlines and looking at the full picture.
Dave Ranney has spent decades reporting on child welfare in Kansas and, more recently, volunteering as a Court Appointed Special Advocate (CASA). He’s seen the system from the outside and the inside through policy shifts, lawsuits, reforms, and individual cases that don’t fit neatly into black-and-white narratives.
In this conversation with Douglas County CASA, Dave offers a clear-eyed look at what the child welfare system is meant to do, where it consistently falls short, and why one-on-one advocacy through CASA can make a meaningful difference in children’s lives.
At its most basic level, what is the child welfare system meant to do?
Dave: At its core, the system exists to provide a safe, caring, nurturing environment for children between the time they’re removed from their families due to abuse or neglect and whatever comes next — reunification, adoption, or emancipation.
The way I think about it is this: Kids end up in foster care because a line was crossed. A parent may not have intended to cross it, but something happened that made the public expect corrections to be made. Society has an obligation to make sure those kids are safe and cared for in the interim.
No one has ever said — or ever will say — that the state makes for a good parent. Foster care is simply the place that exists when there isn’t a safe option at home.
Where does the system most often fall short of that purpose?
Dave: The most consistent struggle is resources. There has never been a foster care system anywhere that’s been adequately resourced. Never. And yet, when something goes wrong, the public assumes the resources were there — and that if they were needed, they would have been provided. That’s just not how it works.
These are kids with high needs — several with very high needs — who’ve been through a lot. You can always say the system should do more, and you’d be right, but often the reality is that placements (where the children are living temporarily) or services just aren’t available. A lot of the time, when people ask why something didn’t happen, the answer is simply that the option either didn’t exist or wasn’t available.
There’s a big gap between what people expect the system to be able to do and what it’s actually resourced to do. And that gap becomes most visible when something goes wrong, and everyone asks, “Why didn’t they do more?” without realizing that there often wasn’t “more” available.
From your years covering the system, what do Kansans most often misunderstand about how child welfare actually works?
Dave: Every case is different. Some kids can be reunited with their parents, and some shouldn’t be. Some kids can fend for themselves; some can’t. Some are resilient; some aren’t. The public tends to want a blanket policy or a one-size-fits-all response, and that just doesn’t work in this system.
Another misconception is the assumption that families will always do whatever it takes to get their kids back. That may be true for some families, but it’s not true for all, especially those who resent the system for sticking its nose in their business.
People also underestimate how unwelcome the system often is. Caseworkers and volunteers aren’t walking into homes where everyone is grateful to see them. There’s anger, fear, and distrust, and that reality makes the work far more complicated than most people realize.
When something goes wrong, why does public outrage so often miss the bigger picture?
Dave: When bad things happen, there’s always a rush to judge and to blame. People want a clear, black-and-white answer — who messed up, who should be punished, what rule should change.
But at the same time, you’ve got thousands of kids in a system no one has ever described as seamless or adequate. So you have to ask: How realistic is it to expect that every single child is going to be safe every minute of every day?
Crisis moments tend to flatten everything into right and wrong, success or failure. Child welfare doesn’t work that way. It’s almost all gray, and treating it like it’s black and white leads to false conclusions and, often, misguided policies.
People often ask why the system can’t just be “fixed.” From what you’ve seen, why is that so difficult?
Dave: If there were a clear, proven fix, I don’t know why we wouldn’t have done it by now. The people working in this system care deeply — you wouldn’t do this work if you didn’t care. But they’re operating inside a structure with real limits.
When people ask why Kansas doesn’t just copy a “better” system, I always wonder which one they mean. I’ve covered child welfare for a long time, and I’ve never heard anyone say, “This state has figured it out; that’s the model.”
The obvious answer is always to spend more money and offer more tailored services — to make the system fit the kids instead of forcing kids to fit the system. And that’s true, as far as it goes. But at some point, the answer becomes political. There has to be a willingness to fund what the system actually requires. Without that, I’ve grown skeptical of silver bullets.
What role does poverty play in who ends up in the child welfare system?
Dave: Poverty is a constant throughline. You just don’t see kids being removed from families with money.
When you poke holes in the social-service safety net, people fall through them. If families lose access to food assistance, housing support, or help with utilities, you’re going to see more kids end up in foster care. It’s not rocket science.
That’s why it’s hard to talk about fixing child welfare without talking about poverty. The system isn’t operating in isolation; it’s responding to economic conditions and policy choices long before child welfare ever gets involved.
Kansas is the only fully privatized child welfare system in the country. What problem was privatization meant to solve?
Dave: Kansas centralized child welfare under the state in the early 1970s, creating what became SRS (Social & Rehabilitation Service), so families could access the same services regardless of where they lived. But over time, the system became badly under-resourced and began failing federal standards.
In 1989, a guardian ad litem attorney named Rene Netherton filed a lawsuit against the state and won on every major point. That ruling put Kansas on the brink of a federal takeover, which terrified legislators.
Privatization emerged as an alternative. Gov. Bill Graves asked Rochelle Chronister, a veteran legislator, to lead SRS. She knew the legislature had no appetite for significantly increasing funding. Privatization promised smaller government and, at least in theory, better outcomes. Chronister was clear it wasn’t about saving money — it was about helping kids. And spending increased.
The transition was often chaotic, but once the lawsuit was dismissed on the grounds that the system it challenged no longer existed, Kansas had a fully privatized child welfare system.
Looking back, how did privatization actually play out over time?
Dave: Early on, there were leaders who genuinely believed privatization could improve outcomes, and there was real investment in the system. But once the lawsuit was gone, priorities shifted toward going with the lowest bid. Contractors learned where corners could be cut and built that into future bids. At the same time, child advocates became contractors themselves, which made it much harder to openly criticize the system.
Today, I don’t know many people who would say things are meaningfully better than they were before the lawsuit. The structure changed, but many of the underlying problems remain, and there’s very little political appetite to overturn privatization.
When cost-cutting or low-bid contracts enter the picture, how does that show up in a child’s experience?
Dave: The clearest example is caseloads. For years, it wasn’t unusual for caseworkers to have 25 or 30 kids. That’s just not manageable.
Corner-cutting also limits services and placement options. When people ask why a child didn’t get a certain service, the answer is often that it wasn’t available.
Foster parents are another pressure point. The number of people willing to do that work is limited. When more kids enter the system, strain shows up quickly — in disrupted placements and less stability — not because people don’t care, but because the system is stretched too thin.
Are there areas where you’ve seen real improvement in recent years?
Dave: Yes. During the Brownback years, Kansas had around 7,400 kids in foster care — the highest number in state history. Today, that number is closer to 5,500. That’s a significant improvement, largely due to greater focus on family preservation — helping families in crisis before they “cross the line.’
Another big change is caseload caps. DCF (Department for Children & Families) now limits caseloads to around 15 cases, which makes it far more realistic for caseworkers to actually know their kids. The progress is real, but fragile. The system still struggles to meet federal standards, and it wouldn’t take much to push it back into crisis.
How does child welfare overlap with juvenile justice, mental health, and education for Kansas youth?
Dave: Juvenile justice tends to involve kids with the most damage and the highest needs. Mental health services can be incredibly helpful when families are willing to engage, but there are limits to what providers can do without that buy-in.
Education is often the most underutilized source of insight. School counselors know these kids deeply, yet — like foster parents — they often have the least say in how cases are handled, despite spending the most time with the child.
You’ve volunteered in various ways. What makes CASA different from other forms of help?
Dave: So much of our approach to helping people comes down to figuring out how to get large systems to respond to the particular needs of one person or one family. CASA is different. A CASA volunteer focuses on one child or one family. You’re paying attention, talking to everyone involved, and making sure the judge has the full picture. You’re not letting your kids slip through the cracks. No way! You’re helping the system do what it’s supposed to do, you’re ensuring positive change.
If you could share one message with Kansans about why this system deserves their attention — and what everyday people can do — what would it be?
Dave: Kansans should hold their legislators accountable. It’s striking that the state has more than $1 billion in reserves, yet rarely discusses using even a small portion to strengthen foster care.
Beyond policy, people should think about what real help looks like. Foster care doesn’t work by handing something out and moving on. CASA works because one person shows up consistently for one child. That presence, especially when it matters most, is how you do what’s right for kids.
This story is part of Step Up for Kansas Kids — a community campaign inviting Kansans to better understand the child welfare system, hear from people inside it, and explore meaningful ways to support kids and families.
