The day after Texas Gov. Greg Abbott ordered the states Department of Family and Protective Services to conduct a prompt and thorough investigation of families with transgender children, the first case came up, and Morgan Daviss name was on it.
Davis was one of four investigators on a Travis County unit tasked with reviewing claims of child abuse. Usually, he and his colleagues took cases on a rotation. Davis was next in line. That evening, a Wednesday in late February, hissupervisor called and relayed the basic facts. A mandated reporter by law, any licensed professional who works directly with childrenhad turned in a family outside of Austin because theyd allowed their teenager to live as a girl. Under the governors order, someone had to investigate the family for child abuse.
Davisssupervisor told him she knew working the case might feel difficult. Nine months earlier, Davis had come out as a transgender man. He was 52, born in a generation when calling yourself tomboy felt daring enough, but after five decades, hed decided he was finally ready to live as himself.
On the phone, thesupervisor said she was prepared to offer Davis something she never had before.
If you want to recuse yourself, she said, you can.
Davis had taken the investigator job because he hoped to advocate for children in a way he felt no one had advocated for him when he was young. Usually, he believed in the departments mission of removing children from abusive situations. But if he took this case, he thought, hed be carrying out what many in his department had been calling a political stunt. Across the country, Republican lawmakers were pushing anti-trans legislation to bar children from sports or gender-affirming health care. Abbotts letter went further. It didnt matter that puberty blockers and hormone therapy are endorsed by all major medical associations as appropriate treatments for gender dysphoria. If a parent allowed their child access to those medications, Abbott wrote, the state could break up the family.
Abbott said hed written the directive because he wanted to protect children from abusive procedures, but Davis and his colleagues believed the governor had done it to rouse his conservative base ahead of Novembers gubernatorial run against Beto ORourke.
It was evil, Davis thought, and he didnt want to participate in evil. But recusing himself wouldnt make the case go away. Another investigator would take it. Davis believed that most of his colleagues wanted to protect children from harm, but he knew that no one else had the lived experience he did. If he took the case, maybe he could tell the family he understood. Maybe he could thank them for giving their daughter the childhood he never had. Davis pulled in a deep breath, exhaled, then told his boss hed do it.
If its got to be someone, he said, I want it to be me. ... As Davis and his supervisor talked that Wednesday night, she told him he wouldnt have to spend long on this one.
She told me, Just go in, do the interview, assess the safety, then well close the case, Davis said.
When someone reports child abuse, investigators act immediately, Davis said within 24 hours for the most serious cases and within 48 for others. Investigators talk to the person who made the complaint, then they go to the childs school.
In this case, Daviss supervisor allowed him to schedule a meeting at the familys home for that Friday evening, roughly 48 hours after the initial report. (According to civil court filings, other families did not receive the same treatment: In at least two instances, investigators interviewed children at school with no warning.)
Davis spent that Thursday calling people for advice. He talked to his own doctor and to people from the American Academy of Pediatrics and the American Psychological Association. Davis said the guidance they gave him echoed the statements they put in writing that same week: Gender-affirming care can be lifesaving for young trans people. The governors letter would put those children at even higher risk of anxiety, depression, self-harm and suicide.
Davis spoke to the person who reported the abuse and, later that afternoon, called the childs mother to set up the meeting.
My name is Morgan, he said. I need to let you know there has been a report. Davis still believed he could make the situation better, so he told the woman shed be safe with him.
Im a trans man, he said. Ive been assigned to this case.
They spoke a few minutes longer, Davis said, then we just cried together. ... He stepped outside. He called his supervisor and described the family as exemplary. The fridge was stocked. The books on the girls shelves were above grade level. Theres no abuse, Davis told his supervisor. We can shut this down.
Unfortunately, the supervisor said. We have to wait.
Davis still doesnt know when or why the higher-ups decided they wouldnt heed his report, but he said his supervisor told him it was beyond her control. One of her bosses had to join the investigation.
Davis returned to the living room, and he tried to frame his bosss words as no big deal, but the lawyers realized then, and the family did, too, that it didnt matter if the investigator was trans or kind. Something inextricable and horrible was beginning, and Davis couldnt stop it. The parents lawyer walked Davis out. Maybe Davis did understand the family in ways other investigators couldnt, Harting thought, but that wasnt necessarily a good thing. Maybe the family had trusted Davis and told him things they wouldnt tell other investigators, things the state could eventually use against them.
You shouldnt be here, Harting told Davisin a tone that was firm but kind. I know you meant well, but this is wrong. You shouldnt do this.
Davis spent much of that weekend working and crying. He stayed up past midnight typing notes for his boss, and his stomach tightened as he uploaded the photograph of the girl. He woke up the next morning at 6, and he scrutinized his report until he was sure hed written the best version he could.
Still, Davis felt sunk. Hed watched for months as lawmakers in other states had moved to restrict transgender rights. Lobbying didnt seem to sway them, and neither did a broad medical consensus. The only tactics that seemed to work, Davis thought, were lawsuits. He spent most of that weekend hoping someone would sue, and on Tuesday, a week after Abbott published the order, one family did.
Davis read the civil court filing on his phone at the office the next morning. The family had a 16-year-old transgender daughter, Davis read, and the mother worked for CPS. After Abbott released the order, the mother, identified only as Jane Doe, asked her supervisor how it would affect her family. A few hours later, the agency placed Jane Doe on administrative leave. An investigator called the next day.
Davis winced as he read the familys affidavit. They wrote that they now live in constant fear. Jane Doe is unable to sleep, and her daughter has been traumatized by the prospect that she could be separated from her parents and could lose access to the medical treatment that has enabled her to thrive.
He imagined other families with trans kids must feel the same way.
I did this, Davis thought. I hurt a child. I hurt a family, a family I would have wanted.