Hamilton County residents face a stark choice: a tax increase or cuts to care for the most vulnerable children. The Enquirer examined the issue from multiple perspectives: taxpayers, relatives providing "kinship" care, foster children themselves, social workers and the politicians who had to make the choice.
What does the upcoming levy mean for children, caseworkers and taxpayers? Here's what The Enquirer found.
A foster parent turned agency worker learns to say, 'We can't help you with that'
A decade ago, Tia Birkley picked up the phone after one of the worst nights of her life. Moments earlier, one of the four foster children she was raising had strangled his twin sister and struck Birkley in the face with a wooden board.
Exhausted, injured and overwhelmed, she called Montgomery County's child welfare agency for help. The
response stunned her.
"So, you don't want to do this anymore?" the worker asked.
Birkley wasn't looking for a way out. She had taken on the challenges of raising children who had experienced severe trauma because she loved them. But she also needed support.
Today, Birkley works for Hamilton County Job and Family Services, or JFS. Increasingly, she finds the agency delivering the kind of answer she once dreaded hearing herself: "We can't help you with that."
The Hamilton County agency – which oversees child abuse and neglect investigations and supports foster and adoptive families – receives nearly 70% of its funding from property taxes, which currently generate an annual revenue of $82 million.
Now, the agency says soaring placement costs and increasingly complex cases have forced it to ask for a tax increase. The new levy calls for a 38% increase in revenue, which amounts to a 50% increase for taxpayers.
Even if the new levy passes, the agency will face cuts, said spokeswoman Jane Prendergast.
A grandmother answered the call of duty
More than 500 miles away from Cincinnati, Laquita Adams received a call from JFS. Her 2-year-old grandson, Jamari, had been removed from his parents' care after a domestic violence incident. The caseworker asked: Could she take care of Jamari?
Like many kinship families – caregivers with an existing relationship to the child – Adams did not receive advance notice before she was asked to feed another mouth. But, like many, she agreed without hesitation.
She drove eight hours from Reform, Alabama, to visit her grandson, who was already showing the scars of trauma. He struggled with his behavior, speech and controlling his emotions. Jamari was placed with Adams in March 2026.
Since then, he's shown signs of improvement. Now 4 years old, Jamari will soon start at the same school his father attended in Alabama, said Adams. Jamari's life is not the only one that's been dramatically changed. So has Adams'.
She rearranged her work schedule and picked up extra shifts. She bought a twin-sized bed, diapers and other necessities. She even installed handrails for her porch − a requirement for all licensed foster care providers. Adams did all of this while raising two children of her own and working full-time as a nurse.
The financial assistance from JFS, a $350-a-month kinship stipend, was a "big help," said Adams. But she would have taken him in without it.
"I'm beyond grateful for that, that I get to play such a big part of his life," she said.
But this isn't the case for all families, Adams said. For some, love can't be the only factor to consider when bringing in another child to the household.
Amanda Clark, whose husband suffers from health issues, said that even with the kinship stipend, she is struggling to stay afloat. Currently in her care are a 5-year-old, 4-year-old and 20-month-old – not including her biological children.
"My hands are tied," said Clark. "I have a car note. I have other bills. You would think bringing children in, that you wouldn't still struggle. But I did. I did for the first few months of having them."
Even if the levy passes, new kinship providers will no longer receive stipends from the county, following $36 million cuts announced in May. Current kinship providers have been "grandfathered" in, according to Prendergast, and financial assistance in the form of vouchers and coupons will still be offered.
JFS and Hamilton County officials have long touted kinship as the most effective solution – emotionally and economically – for placing kids outside of the care of their biological parents. At least for now, Children's Services Director Margie Weaver does not believe ending the stipend will hamper these efforts.
Meanwhile, the organization is redirecting clients to public resources and other nonprofits, which isn't entirely a bad thing, Weaver said.
Still, it's a tough pill for kinship caseworkers to swallow.
“We’re meeting with families face-to-face, and we’re having conversations of like, ‘what do you need help with?' And now at this point we have to say, 'well, we can’t help you with that,' " said Kari Cwynar, a kinship engagement supervisor at JFS.
19-year-old Jaelynn finally unpacks her belongings
Before this year, most of Jaelynn Clemmons' belongings lived in her suitcase – stored out of anyone's sight and reach. She didn't know when she would move next, so she never unpacked.
By the time she turned 16, Jaelynn had moved 16 times, shuttling between the homes of grandparents, aunts and her mom's in-laws. Her mother, who struggled with drug addiction, cycled in and out of her life, as did Children's Services.
Now, Jaelynn, 19, lives alone in housing provided by JFS. For the first time, she unpacked.
"I could put anything, anywhere," she said. "And that's what makes it my space."
Hamilton County is one of the few counties in Ohio that serves young people past 18. Jaelynn is one of 192 young adults living in JFS' semi-independent or independent living arrangements. Some are as young as 17. Others are closer to 21 and are on the brink of aging out of the system.
In May, the agency announced an $8 million reduction in independent living contracts, which will result in less placements for young adults. Roughly 80% of JFS' services are legally mandated, said Prendergast, and can't be cut. That means that non-mandated services are on the chopping block – regardless of the levy outcome or the effectiveness of these programs.
Christine Ware, who works with youth between 16 and 21, say that they are "at their worst" when their cases reach her. JFS' support can change that, she said.
Clemmons said semi-independent living was a way to remove herself from bad influences. She also doesn't have to be a "second parent" to her three younger siblings, a responsibility that has followed her throughout adolescence.
“My goal is literally just to be able to have a career under my belt, to be able to provide for myself," said Clemmons. "And in some ways towards my siblings to help them out with things that they need, that I know that my mom can’t afford individually over and over again.”
Supporters argue the programs reduce future public costs by helping young adults secure housing, employment and education before leaving care. Without these services a "concerning" amount of older youth will no longer have access to housing or health insurance, said Ware.
“That’s why you see people on the street that are around my age. Because they don’t have anybody,” said Clemmons.
Cases keep coming. Their hands are tied
Birkley, the JFS Family Services manager and current kinship parent, encourages her colleagues to turn off their phones past work hours. That doesn't stop her from checking her own phone past 9 p.m. or picking up a call from one of her clients.
It's hard to ignore messages from their clients, Birkley said. For many, their caseworker is the only one they can rely on.
"All of our caseworkers care so much that, like, if a parent's calling you at 8 o'clock at night, you're answering," said Justine Harrison, a team manager for caseworkers. "Nine times out of 10, I'd say our workers ... are not able to shut off work."
Recruitment and retention issues have long plagued social work agencies across the nation. In recent years, JFS has worked aggressively to combat those issues, implementing free mental health services, trauma-informed education and more structured trainings for incoming caseworkers, said Prendergast.
Now, as JFS' cuts reduce the types of services they can provide to clients, another constraint bounds caseworkers' hands: time. A $5 million hiring freeze was included in cuts announced in May.
The hiring freeze can mean that workers see higher caseloads, which can affect the retention and recruitment efforts that JFS has spearheaded.
Caseworkers described workloads as "barely manageable" and are already working close to 50 hours a week, according to a review conducted by the Public Consulting Group.
Caseworkers aren't supposed to work for more than 40 hours a week and five hours of overtime. But many caseworkers say that it's impossible.
"I really like my job," said Ware. "And for me, to be able to do [a good job] and make sure that I have my 'i's dotted and my 't's crossed, because I feel that creates better outcomes for my youth, as well, I cannot do that within 40 hours."
According to Harrison, a team manager for ongoing caseworkers, managers have to get "creative" to minimize burnout and ensure that all cases are assigned. Sometimes Harrison assigns workers to cases near their home, so that caseworkers can visit families on the way home.
Taxpayer cares about the children. But how much is too much?
David Katkin is no stranger to JFS and its services. He worked there as a caseworker manager in the 90s. He recalled pungent odors from certain home visits, a "psychotic" 13-year-old and a family's dog he thought had spots but was actually covered in fleas.
As a homeowner struggling with property taxes, though, Katkin is unsure whether he will vote to pass the levy.
"I'm not against this levy. I'm not sitting here, going, 'This is terrible. How dare you take my tax dollars?' said Katkin, 54, of Madeira. "I just want to see, is there not a better way? Why does this burden continually fall on the homeowner?"
Had he not worked at JFS, Katkin said he would be against the levy.
He agrees with current JFS caseworkers that the agency needs more money. It always has. That's part of the issue, he said. The levy is a "drop-in-the-bucket" solution, Watkin said, to what is a bigger, systemic issue: poverty.
"I don't see a day where they're gonna go, 'We don't need this much money anymore,'" said Katkin. "These guys on the front lines are fighting the symptoms of poverty every day. ... And it's not easy."
He continued, "But this is a question for the taxpayers. Where does it end? Where's our relief?"
Home values have sky-rocketed, and voters have made their frustrations with property taxes clear. Clermont, Guernsey and Portage Counties voted against new or increased Children's Services levies in May. Clermont County will try again this November.
Hamilton County commissioners, who placed the levy on the ballot, have weighed nearly 15 options to lessen the financial burden on homeowners and pledge funding for Hamilton County's most vulnerable children, said Commissioner Stephanie Summerow Dumas.
"I want to make it clear that I don't like any one of the options, any of the 15," said Dumas in an Aug. 3meeting. "The reason why I say that is because I do not want to take more money from the property owners. I don't want to do that."
In the meeting, Commissioners Dumas and Denise Driehaus called on the state of Ohio to step up in their funding of children's services.
"[The state and the federal government] keep sending these unfunded mandates our way, and we keep struggling to come up with the cost, because they keep reducing our resources," said Driehaus. "It is not a good combination."
Before coming to a decision, Katkin said that he needs to know if the county has truly exhausted all other options.
"If they make a case ... there's just no way that we can do it cheaper, that might convince me," said Katkin. "But like I said, I really haven't heard anything other than 'We need this.'"
Voters will have the final say on whether the levy is worth the cost. These outcomes will shape what help remains available for families like the ones Birkley works with every day. And the consequences are inevitable.
"You can only burn a candle with both ends for so long before there's no candle," said Birkley.
This article originally appeared on Cincinnati Enquirer: 'We can’t help you': The voices behind a groaning foster care system
