Natalie Reynolds’ story did not garner national attention. In the summer of 2012, it took place in a juvenile detention facility in Hunt County, Texas, over a fifteen-year-old girl’s confiscated cell phone. However, the case that resulted from it raises issues that go far beyond a single phone or supervisor. It raises a more general question: what happens if those tasked with safeguarding vulnerable children decide they are above the laws designed to keep them safe?
A.K., a teen whose identity has been kept secret throughout court proceedings, fled his home in June of 2012. The Texas Department of Family and Protective Services was contacted by her guardian. According to most accounts, A.K. was living with adult men, using methamphetamine, and in a truly challenging circumstance. She was apprehended by law enforcement and taken to the Hunt County Juvenile Detention Center, where personnel gathered her personal items, including her cell phone, ring, and bracelet. Things get complicated when it comes to that phone.
Natalie Reynolds worked for the Department as a supervisor. She oversaw an investigator named Rebekah Thonginh Ross. Together, they decided to search and keep A.K.’s phone without her permission, according to testimony given during the trial. According to reports, Reynolds informed a coworker that she was unable to return the phone since she thought it contained drug dealers’ contact details. On the surface, that logic might seem reasonable. However, it doesn’t stand up in court, which is precisely what the State of Texas claimed when it accused Reynolds of official oppression.
It’s important to consider what official oppression under Texas law actually entails. When a public servant intentionally subjects someone to an illegal search or seizure while performing their official duties and is aware that such actions are illegal, they are guilty of the crime. The final section is important. This was not an instance of an error committed in good faith. Reynolds was aware that she was going too far, according to the prosecution. The trial court concurred.
In his testimony, former Department employee Kenny Stillwagoner stated that he thought Ross, Reynolds, or both had taken the phone without A.K.’s permission. Edie Diane Fletcher, another former coworker, remembered Reynolds saying that “they” still needed to “finish their investigation”—as if that was sufficient justification for keeping a teenager’s belongings indefinitely. According to A.K.’s own testimony, both women searched her phone and found information about two men, Michael Watts and Steve Lamb, neither of whom had been thought of as possible placement options for her. According to reports, A.K. had absolutely no idea why she was being questioned about them.
The image of a fifteen-year-old girl, who is already in a challenging situation, watching adults in positions of authority go through her personal phone without providing a meaningful explanation is unsettling. A.K. had rights regardless of her involvement with troublemaking individuals. Even when it is inconvenient, the legal system exists to uphold that.
On appeal, Reynolds contested her conviction, claiming there was insufficient evidence to sustain a guilty finding. The appellate court was unconvinced. It concluded that each component of the offense—that Reynolds acted with intent, that the acts were tortious, and that she knew it at the time—was supported by legally sufficient evidence. The initial ruling was upheld by the court.
Reynolds received a suspended sentence of one year in county jail. She was sentenced to two years of community supervision after serving thirty days.
Natalie Reynolds was sued by whom? In actuality, the criminal charge was brought by the State of Texas. In a more general sense, however, it was the system itself—the same framework for child welfare that Reynolds was meant to represent—retaliating against one of its own. That is not a common occurrence. It’s worth paying attention when it does.
