Our Team
About Me
My name is Paul Edward Brown. I am a survivor of the Massachusetts Department of Children and Families system, a system that did not protect me. It abandoned me, mislabeled me, and tried to erase me.
I spent most of the 1980s in DCF custody, and then they placed me back with the person who abused me, my mother. They returned me without real oversight, without support, and without protection. What followed was more years of pain and psychological torment. DCF had every opportunity to intervene. They chose silence over safety.
By the late 1990s, the message became unmistakable. The system decided I was disposable. On the morning of May 18, 1998, DCF staff discussed how to remove me from their responsibility. That same afternoon, while I was at school, they did it. I had walked from the foster home where I was placed over the weekend to get to school that morning, not knowing I would not be going back. DCF called the school and told them to let me go. They did not tell anyone where I would be. They made no placement. They left a 17 year old disabled child in their legal custody homeless, terrified, and alone in the middle of the school day.
That decision shaped everything that came after.
I was pushed into a world I was not prepared to survive. I had no support, no resources, and no one who cared enough to step in. The years that followed were chaos. I cycled through jails, institutions, and psychiatric hospitals. I carried trauma no child should ever have to carry. There were nights I truly did not believe I would make it to morning.
For decades, I blamed myself.
Then in February 2025, I received documents through a formal records request that changed the entire story.
Michael FitzPatrick, General Counsel for DCF, sent redacted records in response to my request. Those redactions were not secure. I did not hack anything. I did not break the law. I used basic tools, copy and paste and Optical Character Recognition, and I found what they tried to bury.
The documents showed that DCF did not simply abandon me. They lied to cover it up.
They created false entries to make it look like I refused services. They rewrote events to paint me as violent or unstable instead of a traumatized child reacting to years of abuse. They made it appear as if I chose homelessness, when the record shows I was begging for placement again and again, every 15 minutes. They documented it, and then tried to hide it behind black bars and silence.
What happened next was just as disturbing. The Massachusetts Public Records Division, the office that is supposed to enforce transparency and accountability, refused to act. Despite evidence of misconduct and redaction abuse, they shifted legal frameworks mid process and denied me a ruling under the Public Records Law even though DCF responded under it. FIPA complaints were ignored. Mandates were ignored. I was ignored.
That is why this website exists.
I created www.fuckdcf.com, www.fuckdcf.org, and www.fuckdcf.net because I will not be silent anymore. I will not let them erase me. I am publishing the documents. I am publishing the redacted and unredacted versions. I am showing exactly what they tried to hide, word for word, line by line.
I invite you to read it. Learn what they did. See the truth for yourself.
And I invite you to come forward. If DCF hurt you, silenced you, or buried your truth, your story belongs here. This is a place for survivors and the unheard.
Michael FitzPatrick and those like him may believe they can hide behind legal language and public indifference. I am making sure the world sees what they have done.
You can find him on LinkedIn: Michael FitzPatrick
Help me expose this corruption. Help me demand justice. Help me protect the next child who could be discarded the way I was.
Welcome to Fuck DCF.
About Me
My name is Rebecca Gomes, but everyone calls me Bex. I am a mother of seven beautiful children, my heart, my purpose, my whole world. I gave birth to each of them without medication. I breastfed them for more than two years. I homeschooled them during the day and worked nights, because I was determined to give them a childhood filled with love, attention, stability, and peace. I poured everything I had into raising them with care and intention.
And still, we were ripped apart.
This is my story, and it is a painful look at how a system that claims to protect families can end up destroying them.
My life started with trauma. I grew up trapped in a family court system that was supposed to shield me from an abusive father. It did not. Those failures left scars that ran deep, and like so many people carrying unhealed wounds, I found myself repeating the same nightmare in new forms. I ended up in relationships with men far more abusive than the one I fought so hard to escape.
I asked for help. I went through every channel I could find. I was met with silence, indifference, and neglect. I survived emotional abuse, financial abuse, physical abuse, and spiritual abuse. I was isolated. I was controlled. I was pushed into a corner where my voice was treated like an inconvenience.
When I finally broke free, I had nothing. No home. No safety net. Just seven children who needed me to stay standing. So I turned to the one place I believed existed for families like mine, the Department of Children and Families. I truly thought they would help protect my children. I was wrong.
After their father, an abusive man who had broken our bones, whipped us with wires, and taken everything from us, kidnapped our children, I begged DCF to intervene. Instead, they failed to investigate. They ignored critical evidence. Then they did the unthinkable and handed custody to him, a known drug user and abuser.
That single decision detonated our lives.
My children have lived through horror that no child should ever have to survive, shootings, drug raids, and ongoing abuse. The damage did not come only from their father. It came from the system that enabled him, defended him, and gave him power. The trauma we carry, the PTSD we live with, is not temporary. It is the kind that rewires a family.
My only “crime” was telling the truth. I spoke up about DCF’s failures, false reports, rule violations, and blatant disregard for child safety. Their response was retaliation. They targeted me instead of fixing what they broke.
But I will not be silenced.
What they tried to do to me did not crush me. It lit a fire. Now I am fighting back, not only for my children, but for every family that has been betrayed by the very institutions meant to protect them. Because I am not alone. There are thousands, and maybe millions, of parents around the world who know this story in their bones.
And we are rising together.
We are exposing corruption, negligence, and abuse of power inside child welfare agencies. We are building something better, real support that is compassionate, judgment free, and focused on keeping families safe and together. A safety net that lifts families up instead of tearing them apart. A community that stands as a shield against injustice.
Our mission is clear. We demand accountability. We push change. We refuse to let another family live what mine has lived. We will not stop until these systems finally do what they were created to do, protect, support, and uplift the families they serve.
With strength and purpose,
Bex