Police officers countered that the curfew is "basically for the safety of your kids."
"Bullets can be flying this late at night," said Officer Latanya Lewis, who arrived at 1:40 a.m. with a van of 11 boys and girls from the Northeast District.
Now in its third weekend of operation, the curfew center has also turned into a sort community outreach project. Rarely do parents have this sort of access to police officers, city Health Department and state Department of Juvenile Services workers, and other city employees in a single room. Sheryl Goldstein, director of the Mayor's Office on Criminal Justice, said she'd love to see representatives of youth programs at the site, too. But, she acknowledges, the hours aren't so great.
Early yesterday morning, one frustrated mother pulled aside a city Health Department worker. The woman's 14-year-old daughter, wearing a Hershey's chocolate bar T-shirt and glasses, stood with her arms crossed as her mother vented.
The Sun does not identify juveniles accused of a crime without their parents' consent.
"When she doesn't want to abide by my rules, she just doesn't come home," the woman told Leyla Layman, a health analyst who works with kids. "I don't know what to do. It just seems like if you're not a drug addict and if you're not beating the hell out of your kids, there's no help for you."
Layman explained that the woman could file an ungovernable child petition in Juvenile Court, which would give the family access to that agency's programs, such as self-esteem-building workshops, vocational training and help with school.
It wasn't too long after midnight when Officer John Fabula arrived from the Western District with a van of 11 boys and girls. By then, a collection of bewildered parents had gathered outside the school's 21st Street entrance. Some had gotten cell phone calls from kids who'd been detained. Others had heard from neighbors that a police van had come through, so they stopped first at the Baltimore City Juvenile Justice Center on Gay Street and were redirected to Dallas Nicholas.
"I really consider this kidnapping," said Chiffon Rogers, who had gone there in search of her 11-year-old grandson, De-Andre McLean. "It's like a dog pound coming through, scooping up children like that. They're treating him like a criminal when all he was doing was walking to a friend's house to stay the night."
