The Adoption Maze

The supply of babies is severely limited, and the market is unregulated. But savvy couples manage to succeed despite high costs, bureaucratic roadblocks, and outright scams

The discrepancy between supply and demand has escalated adoption prices. Total spending on adoption is rising at 15 percent a year, hitting $1.4 billion in 2000. Although the Nebraska Children's Home Society provides free adoptions to state residents, most private domestic adoptions run from $6,000 to $30,000. Foreign adoptions run higher, starting at $15,000 for China to well over $20,000 for Guatemala. Randy and Barbara Combs figure it will have cost them $25,000 to $30,000 to adopt Viktoria, once travel costs are included. By far the biggest chunk, the $14,000 foreign fee, went to Frank Foundation Child Assistance International, a Washington, D.C.-based organization that is one of the largest locating children in Russia. In 1998, Frank made a profit of $937,515 on revenues of $4.1 million. Cofounder Nina Kostina earned $197,017. Many adoptive parents are deeply troubled by the vast sums of money they pay and the lack of accountability: "On Sunday I fly into Moscow with $12,000 in cash strapped to my person," says Karen Groth, a 37-year-old Air Force major and intelligence officer who's adopting a baby girl from Kazakhstan. "Where does all our money go?"

Enter the FBI. That kind of unaccounted-for money can't help but draw in a few people with less than pure intentions. Take the much-publicized case of Tina Johnson, the facilitator who is under investigation for placing the twins with two families. U.S. News has learned the FBI is investigating another case in which Johnson, who runs A Caring Heart facilitation service in San Diego, allegedly charged a family $11,900 but never found them a child. Johnson, who did not return calls and E-mail asking for comment, also runs a Web site with the address of www.Iattractmoney.com. There, she pitches get-rich-quick schemes and, until recently, identified herself as "Tina Devereaux, success consultant."

The lure of profit is turning the heads of some potential birth mothers as well. There are at least two former birth mothers in prison for promising their unborn children to several families at once and collecting living expenses from all of them. And adoption chat rooms are filled with sad tales of families who have paid for living and medical expenses, only to have the birth mother exercise her right to change her mind. But those stories give a bum rap to the vast majority of birth mothers. Studies of teen moms show that those who place their children for adoption tend to be older, better educated, and emotionally stronger than those who keep their children.

Still, prospective parents have few legal safeguards. Government officials rarely treat their complaints seriously. Bill Lee, Maryland's adoption licensing coordinator, says when he gets complaints from adoptive parents about money, he makes a courtesy investigative phone call but can do nothing more: "We toss 'em." The state's regulations don't cover such contract disputes, he explains. Other officials move, but glacially. In a lawsuit, Candy and Bob Murdock, a Georgia couple, allege they paid $11,000 in 1998 to Lorraine Boisselle, who ran a Mississippi adoption agency. Two years later, after they say Boisselle gave them increasingly outlandish explanations for her failure to find a child (she once blamed a hurricane), the Murdocks called the Mississippi attorney general's office. They say they were surprised to learn that there were already complaints pending and that Boisselle's license had lapsed. The state says it is still investigating Boisselle. The Murdocks have joined with two other victims in filing a civil suit in an attempt to recover their money. "There is no way you can protect yourself," Candy Murdock says. After her experience, "I would tell anybody considering adoption to go international."