Pete Buttigieg Didn’t Have to Let Those CPS Officers In

Here’s what he could have done instead.

By Chris Gottlieb

This essay was originally published in Slate on July 8, 2026. Read the original version here.

A few weeks ago, child protective services separated Pete Buttigieg’s 4-year-old twins from him after an anonymous caller made unsupported allegations in an apparent swatting incident. People of all political persuasions should be outraged that this happened—and plenty were—but they should not be surprised. Weaponizing CPS by making false allegations is all too common. And that’s because CPS enables harassment by throwing common sense—and the law—out the window when someone makes accusations involving a child. Current CPS practices allow specious accusations to hurt not only parents, but the children they are meant to protect.

An abusive ex, a disgruntled neighbor—anyone with an axe to grind—can trigger an invasive CPS investigation that throws a family into turmoil and may lead to a traumatic family separation. An accuser can call again and again, and CPS will conduct another investigation each time. In all but two states, allegations can be anonymous, making it impossible to hold repeat harassers accountable.

But the problem runs far deeper than intentional harassment. The child protection system is the largest, most invasive arm of government that systematically flouts constitutional protections without challenge. The legal constraints on police and immigration agents are hotly contested—in courtrooms and in the court of public opinion. In stark contrast, it is shocking how little discussion there is of the enormous power of CPS, and how little understanding there is of families’ rights during investigations, particularly among the people who are subject to these invasions. Many CPS agents do not even know that constitutional limits apply to the actions they take daily, while parents report that they are treated as guilty until they prove themselves innocent.

Behind the seemingly benign knock on the door is a system that has expanded exponentially over the last 50 years in ways no one planned. A reporting system that was originally designed to address intentional physical abuse now encourages people to report any perceived shortcoming in the care of children. Reports routinely include aspects of parenting on which reasonable people disagree, such as how old a child should be to play unsupervised, or that reflect a parents’ lack of resources instead of any intentional misconduct. Rather than provide the type of social safety net that other affluent democracies do, the United States leaves parents without support, and then encourages accusations of parental deficiency to be policed. As a result, hotlines are flooded with calls, many of which are about conditions that result directly from parents’ lack of material resources (such as inadequate housing). CPS workers—who are often referred to in low-income communities as “the family police”—are tasked with addressing social welfare needs after they’ve already lost the trust of families by intimidating and judging them during investigations. The resulting government infrastructure is awesome in its authority and dismal in its functioning.

Over one-third of American children and a staggering 53 percent of Black children will be subjected to a child protective services investigation at some point in their childhoods. The vast majority of accused parents will be vindicated, but only after a stressful, unjustified process. The harm of these investigations has been hidden, because of the shame associated with being investigated as an allegedly bad parent, and because in most states, the court hearings are closed to media and the public.

When it comes to CPS authority, some think “better safe than sorry.” But this slogan ignores how, as the state police pointed out in the Buttigieg case, false allegations steal workers’ time from finding and helping children in real danger. More importantly, that thinking ignores the trauma the investigations themselves inflict. CPS agents demand entry to search private homes, strip search children, and interrogate family members. Children’s sense of security is often irrevocably damaged. The first conversation a child has about consent and “bad touches” is frequently with a complete stranger who is falsely suggesting their parent did something horrific to them. Like many parents who’ve experienced a CPS investigation, Buttigieg described it as “one of the most awful” experiences of his life, one he “wouldn’t wish on anybody.” Our system imposes that experience over 2 million times each year.

No one questions the importance of protecting children from abuse. But it is exactly when government authority is greatest that restraints on that authority are most important. Constitutional safeguards normally require a court order prior to searches or seizures, and seizing a child from their parent is one of the most extreme steps the government can take. That is why a judge is almost always required to review evidence of danger before the trauma of family separation is imposed. But there is an exception that is being exploited—in exigent circumstances, caseworkers (like police) are authorized to take immediate action and then promptly seek judicial review. Right now, CPS treats far too many cases as if they were emergencies when they aren’t, thereby circumventing judicial review, as they did with Buttigieg’s family.

Rights are only meaningful if they are known to the rights holders and the government agents who threaten them. It is alarming that we live in a moment of widespread ignorance that CPS caseworkers, like all fallible government officials, are bound by the Constitution. That their work protecting children is critical makes it more—not less—important that they follow the law. And data is clear that taking more children from their parents does not make them safer or serve their best interests.

Consider that a highly educated political leader was told he had to let government agents interview his children, and that his children could not stay in their own home. There was no plausible evidence whatsoever of any wrongdoing. There was an anonymous tip from someone who claimed they heard from someone else (also unnamed) that years earlier Buttigieg had confessed to crimes that made him a risk to children. Any freshman police officer would know this vague, uncorroborated, double hearsay would never be enough to obtain a warrant to conduct a search or take custody of anyone. But Buttigieg, a parent with far more privileges than most, apparently believed he had no choice but to comply. He was not told his rights. He wasn’t even provided with the allegations against him.

This should be a wake-up call to Democrats who favor individual rights and Republicans who distrust big government. Supporting families is one of the few bipartisan issues of our time. Those on the left and right of the political spectrum can agree that people should know their rights, that any invasion of privacy of family homes must be legally vetted, and that separating children from their families should be a last resort.

What could Buttigieg have done differently, had he known his rights? He might have welcomed CPS into his home, as he did. But he might instead have asked to meet with them in an office setting, with a lawyer sitting next to him. He might have said he didn’t believe there was any reason to put his children through the stress of a forensic evaluation, and a judge would have determined whether anonymous double hearsay (that the investigators themselves believed was politically motivated) was sufficient for taking the next steps. Or he might have agreed to have his children evaluated by someone they knew and were comfortable with, like their pediatrician. He certainly did not have to have his children taken out of their home overnight without a court order. But he didn’t realize that—and there’s a great deal of pressure to comply, when you are confronted with law enforcement questioning your parenting, to show that you have nothing to hide.

Buttigieg and his family were lucky. They were treated with respect by CPS. They were allowed to have dinner together before they were separated for the night. They had grandparents for the kids to stay with, so they did not go—as tens of thousands do each year—into state custody, with the many attendant traumas that entails. And the worst of the intervention was over quickly for them. Far too many families have experienced otherwise and do not have a platform from which to be heard about it.

The good news is that the much-needed public discussion of this issue is starting to break through the shamed silence. Momentum for change is building. Activists in the low-income communities who are most likely to be investigated by CPS are sounding the alarm. Human rights organizations are beginning to report on the issue. Advocates have begun passing new laws replacing anonymous reporting to child abuse hotlines with confidential reporting. Under these laws, the accused still won’t know the accuser, but the CPS agency must. Community activists also are pushing to require Miranda-type notices to inform people of their rights. Law schools have begun teaching the developing field of family defense.

Things are starting to change legally, too. Last year, a state appellate court ruled that it was illegal for CPS to subject survivors of domestic violence to surveillance solely because they had been victimized. Last month, a federal court said that caseworkers may be held personally liable for taking a child from a parent without prior judicial review because it is such a clear violation of the Constitution. And just a few weeks ago, civil rights lawyers joined with parents’ and children’s advocates to bring landmark class-action litigation to end illegal family separations.

Bringing rights to life requires vigorous advocacy inside the courtroom and out. No one should have to go through what former Secretary Buttigieg and his family did—and thanks to your Fourth Amendment and due process rights, you don’t have to. Perhaps their eye-opening experience can accelerate the transformation of rights into realities.

Chris Gottlieb is Assistant Professor of Clinical Law & Director of the Family Defense Clinic at NYU School of Law. She serves on the Governing Board of United Family Advocates.