Allegations against foster carers are complex with far reaching consequences

One incident stands out clearly. Before a family visit, Alex came downstairs wearing an old pair of tracksuit bottoms with ripped pockets. Knowing his mother had previously complained about his clothes, I gently suggested he change into something else, reminding him of the nice clothes he had from his clothing allowance.

Alex snapped back, insisting he would either wear those or not go at all. The silent drive that followed seemed like the end of it, but later, his social worker called to inform me that Alex’s mother was very upset. Alex had told her that I’d called him a “tramp” and “threatened” not to take him unless he changed.

When I calmly spoke to Alex about this, he seemed surprised, denied it, and became defensive. I explained how serious false allegations could be, especially for me as his carer. Whilst I was aware of the trauma underlying the issue and how it wasn’t really about the trousers, I did gently mention that making a fuss over a pair of trousers was unnecessary.

This led to another outburst of swearing, however, ten minutes later, he was calm again and laughing with my son as if nothing had happened.

The next family time brought another allegation—this time, Alex had told his mother he’d lost two stone because the food portions at my home were too small. I knew he had been skipping breakfast and only asking for a sandwich at dinner, claiming a lack of appetite.

Concerned, I checked with his school, and they confirmed he was eating well at lunch. It was clear that Alex was trying to manipulate the situation and play one of us against the other.

In another case, Liam, another young person in my care, was at school when I received a call from his Nan. Liam was upset because I supposedly hadn’t given him money for his mobile phone, even though I had. Nan believed his story and offered to give him more.

This was just the beginning of a series of calls. Liam claimed he was “locked in the house,” that “someone was in the garden,” or that he only had bathroom tap water to drink because he didn’t like the juice in his room. It quickly became clear that Liam was fabricating stories to get attention, and Nan believed everything he said.

Liam would often call his Nan late at night, swearing and crying on the phone. Nan felt guilty that Liam was in care and couldn’t care for him herself. While I eventually established a good professional working relationship with Nan, I knew I had to keep detailed and accurate notes. I felt under constant pressure, as Liam frequently lied and manipulated the adults around him, playing us off against each other. It was hard to keep track of all his stories.

When he was late, I would call, only for him to shout abuse, send threatening texts, and at times disappear, leaving me no choice but to report him missing.

Despite the challenges, I stayed consistent and persistent in reminding Liam that my main concern was his safety.

Caring for a disabled child with communication difficulties adds another layer of complexity.

When social workers frequently change, they may not fully understand the child’s unique way of expressing themselves. For example, the child might use phrases like “my carer was angry” or “won’t let me,” which don’t accurately reflect the situation but are easily taken out of context.

New social workers, unfamiliar with the child’s tendencies, might misinterpret these statements, raising questions about the care being provided. This can sometimes lead to unwarranted concerns or even potential allegations, despite the child’s communication challenges being the real issue.

Maintaining clear, detailed records, open communication and staying vigilant is crucial to ensure misunderstandings don’t escalate. This is also where resources like FosterWiki and the National Union of Professional Foster Carers become invaluable, offering a safety net I never had.

I understand the government is currently reviewing reforms to the allegations system, which is long overdue. I hope that these reforms go beyond superficial policy adjustments and address the broader systemic issues.

We already have the solutions. Although it has taken considerable time for our voices to be acknowledged, we are now beginning to see empowerment within our own sector. Our need for independent representation is being recognised, and we are finally being heard at the highest levels, on our own terms, which in turn leaves me more positive about the future, and the outcomes of the young lives we hold in our hands.