Following my presentation, I was approached by a conference attendee, a social worker from Illinois. She wanted me to know that she knew about the Kurtz network and his for profit agencies. She carried on about how Sara Fiegenholtz had worked with many others to change the laws in Illinois. She told me that Easter House was shut down and the many of the Illinois changes were done to address unscrupulous for profit agencies like Easter House.
I nodded confidently, smiled, and interjected now and then. I had to use the ladies room and I was rather desperate to end the conversation and attend to mother nature. She was steadfast. She wanted to talk as much as I wanted to urinate.
“You do know of course that Easter House catered to wealthy families, right?” she stated.
Internally the not so professional me said “Really? No shit Sherlock! I had no idea!”. I did not say this of course, I realize it was my bladder discomfort speaking.
Yes, I knew this. I informed my new friend that I had reams of data on the network, most of it collected and expertly documented by my friend and fellow Easter House mother/victim, Dr. Bernadette Wright. I also let her know that I was made aware that the reason my daughters parents were able to adopt through them was not due to their individual or family wealth but rather that they had won their state lottery.
This news seemed to startle my chatty friend.
“Really? Wow. Do you know how much they won?” she asked.
I did know but I was not going to share. And I really really needed to go to the bathroom.
“No, I dont but it was listed on a profile the agency gave me”. I said as I started to walk away.
“Wow. Technically then your daughter has lots of adoptive parents, right?” She says as she grins as if she has just said something incredibly funny.
I stop walking and turn my head.
“What?” I ask in a very confused tone.
“Well, technically, if you follow the money, the entire state populace, those that purchased lottery tickets, are the ones who paid the agency for your daughter. So she has LOTS of adoptive parents in that state!” she says with more enthusiasm than I find appropriate.
I am taken back. I feel a flash of anger and disgust.
“Yeah, uh, I guess you could suggest that…” I state as I finally walk away.
A few minutes later, in the rest room, I start to cry. I am not sure if it was due to the ugliness of the statement I just heard or the fact that my bladder is literally constricted from holding back my urine and I now cannot pee.
Perhaps it was both.