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Acquaintances Say Woman From 'House Of Horrors' Case Is No Victim

Candice Clark, attending a hearing last month, will stand trial in the death of a woman and torture of a boy in Portage, Wis. Candice's daughter's disappearance exposed flaws in Florida's child protection system.

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By SHERRI ACKERMAN | The Tampa Tribune

Published: December 1, 2007

PORTAGE, WIS. - Candice Clark rages like an angry child as she leans into a video monitor in the Columbia County Jail.

"I'm not a murderer," the inmate in orange snarls into the telephone.

She didn't strangle her roommate and bury her in the back yard of their rented house on West Oneida Street.

That was her boyfriend.

"He is the trouble," Candice hisses about the man she shares a child with, the man she has known since middle school. "He is a worthless excuse of a human being. I hate him. I hate his guts."

She never threw scalding water on the roommate's 11-year-old son, scarring his skin until his fingers curled inward and his feet were so blistered he could no longer walk.

"There's a lot he's lied about," she says of the boy.

She denies snatching her 2 1/2-year-old daughter from state custody in Florida. The caregiver dumped little Courtney at her mother's house, Candice says.

She can't talk about the stolen identities, checkbooks and credit cards. The truth will come out at trial, she insists.

Don't you understand?

Candice may spend the rest of her life in prison, but she is the victim here.

A small-time thief from Kentucky, 23-year-old Candice Clark caught the attention of an appalled nation in June. Florida, in particular, reeled.

In October 2006, her young daughter, in the protective care of Florida's Department of Children & Families, went missing for nine months. The case prompted a national manhunt that ended this summer in a gruesome house of horrors in Wisconsin.

A woman killed. Her son tortured.

Florida, already struggling to mend a child care system accused of losing its vulnerable clients, allowing some to suffer and even die, once again stood accused.

Four investigations uncovered embarrassing errors: petty turf wars between the state and its private contractors, a caseworker who tried to report a missing child denied by a local sheriff's office.

Courtney's disappearance exposed the cracks in Florida's 10-year experiment handing over state services to private agencies. There were so many mistakes made, "I'm surprised this has not been a made-for-TV-movie," DCF Secretary Bob Butterworth said last month.

The case led to a statewide task force that has recommended obtaining DNA samples from children in foster care and rewriting laws to make it easier - and mandatory - to sound the alarm about missing children.

It also has culminated in the loss of a $150 million state contract for the Sarasota Family YMCA, the private agency first in line to protect Courtney.

Florida once again is working to fix its child welfare system. But figuring out what to do with Courtney's mother - now that's going to take some time.

She has yet to face a judge, but those who know her say, guilty or not, Candice is nobody's victim.

'This Is You'

A knock at 304 W. Oneida St. in the little town of Portage, Wis., brings a dark-haired woman to the door. She refuses to let police officers search the house. It's late Thursday afternoon on June 14.

Hours earlier, the department received a warning from Florida. A woman named Candice Clark might be hiding at the house with a ragtag group of identity thieves.

She is accused of taking her little girl from Florida without state approval. She also has 23 arrest warrants for fraud and identity theft back in Kentucky.

The woman at the door says her name is Ruth. An officer calls the station for Candice's description. It fits Ruth. The woman pulls out a tax refund and a lease for the house. Both bear the name Ruth Porter.

Lt. Mark Hahn gets a picture of Candice and takes it to the house.

"Candice, this is you," he says.

"No, it's not," she says.

Inside the house Hahn finds a girl who says her name is Felicia Gailand. She says she's 16. A woman in the house identifies herself as Raechle Smith from North Carolina.

Children and pets are everywhere - two toddlers and an infant, a dog, a ferret, a mouse and two kittens. The oldest tot resembles Florida's missing child, Courtney Clark.

Ruth says the blue-eyed blonde is Brittany, then, a little later, slips and calls her Courtney.

"That's my mother's nickname for her," she quickly explains.

All but the pets go back to the station, where Hahn and other officers sort out the mess.

Raechle turns out to be 20-year-old Michaela Clerc of Sanford, Fla. And she reveals there is one more child in the house - an 11-year-old boy hidden upstairs.

Two officers return to Oneida Street, where they find the boy in a bedroom closet. His knees are pulled to his chest. He's missing a front tooth and can't walk. Cuts and burns cover his body. The burns to his hands have so scarred them, some of his fingers appear fused together.

He cries when he sees the officers. Don't take me to jail, he pleads.

He's flown to a hospital in Madison where he tells a doctor about being hogtied and placed in a bathtub while pots of water boiled on the stove. He names his attackers: his sister, Felicia Garlin; Ruth; Ruth's boyfriend; and Clerc.

His mother, Tammie Garlin, also abused him, says the boy - identified in records as A. Garlin - but, later, the others burned her, too. They put her in the closet with him, where she applied burn cream to her son's swollen limbs.

"I don't want to hurt no more," the boy begs the doctor.

Clerc confirms the boy's account, then confirms that Ruth is Candice. The three tots are Candice's daughters; one of them is Courtney.

Where is Tammie Garlin? Felicia, who Hahn has learned is only 15, is tight-lipped. She says her mom is alive, that she comes and goes. She left a week ago. No one knows where.

More questions. About her little brother. She helped with that, she admits. Then she drops the bomb.

Felicia knows exactly where her mother is. Buried in the back yard. And Felicia helped put her there.

Tammie Garlin was ill and too weak to go to the bathroom downstairs. They didn't want her to stink up the house, so Felicia and Clerc carried her down to the bathroom. Afterward, her mother lay on the floor.

That angered Candice, so she threatened to buy a shovel and bury Garlin and her son alive, Felicia tells Hahn. Candice's boyfriend, Michael Sisk, kicked Garlin in the chest. Then Sisk and Candice ordered Felicia upstairs. When she returned, her mother was dead.

Clerc laughed, Felicia says.

Before dawn, they stuffed the body into the trunk of Candice's Toyota. Felicia thinks she saw her mother's legs move. They drove to Wal-Mart with her mom in the trunk and bought a shovel. Sisk dug a hole out back that night. Candice watched.

Portage police charge Candice, Sisk and Clerc with intentional homicide, child abuse and mayhem, among other crimes. A judge rules Felicia should stand trial as an adult on the same charges.

Two weeks after her arrest, Candice meets with reporters from Wisconsin and Orlando. She tells them Sisk controlled her. How she couldn't seek help in what the national media has tagged "a house of horrors" for fear of her life and the lives of her children.

"I'm not a monster," she says.

"She's Evil"

Candice Leann Farris was born Feb. 20, 1984, to Ruth Ann and Gary "Buddy" Farris, a hard-working couple who enjoyed good times and good friends.

She was a sweet, pretty little girl growing up in Dawson Springs, Ky., a former resort town known for its healing mineral waters and spring training teams. Today, the town struggles like most in Hopkins County with an aging population, too few jobs and too many teens hooked on methamphetamine.

Candice lived with both parents in a light blue mobile home next to her grandmother's on a grassy hill where the sky stretches forever. She went to church and played with the neighbors' children.

There were no tales of childhood beatings, neglect or poverty. But Candice took a sour turn.

She just had that look, says her aunt, Mary Adams, who also lived next door. "She's evil."

Candice's parents split up when she was 10. Ruth Ann worked at a local nursing home, leaving Candice with a babysitter or her half sister, Sondra DeLaney. Buddy supervised maintenance work in nearby towns and saw his daughter often.

Candice was his little princess.

"Candice was a very, very loved child," says her mother, who has custody of Candice's 5-year-old daughter. "She got messed up in the wrong crowd."

Candice must've been about 14 or 15 years old the last time Adams saw her. She tried to help her niece with algebra, but Candice just wanted Adams to do it for her.

Candice stole silly things back then: T-shirts, hairspray, makeup. Stuff she didn't need.

Her family won't talk much about her. Adams' husband, Candice's Uncle Cletus, refuses to claim his niece.

"She's my sister's daughter," the retired logger tells people.

Candice's story unfolds in the court records that become public when a child turns 18.

That was the year she climbed through the window of her mom's house and took her Discover platinum credit card. Candice bought a 1986 Chrysler Sebring convertible at Jerry Lewis Auto Sales in Madisonville.

She learned she was pregnant with Courtney in March 2004 and married the father, Brandon Clark, in April. That same month, she and her new husband stole the identity of her ex-boyfriend Billy Trautman and applied for credit at James' Jewel Box. The couple bought more than $500 in jewelry.

The marriage ended four months later. Brandon, his mother and father filed emergency petitions to keep Candice away.

Trautman and his wife had done the same the year before as Candice's threats escalated.

"She said that if she could not have me, nobody would either," Trautman swore in his petition.

In Control

Whatever Candice became, well, she came by it honestly, says Faye Smith, longtime waitress at the Dixie Pan Restaurant in Nortonville, just east of Dawson Springs.

Smith slides into a brown, vinyl booth, smooths a tanned hand over her yellow waitress uniform and puffs on her cigarette as she rattles off her story over the hum of a nearby cooler.

"What wasn't born in her was taught," explains Smith, whose son, Jimmy, is Candice's former brother-in-law. "They will go to the ends of the Earth - to the most end - to get what they want," she says of Candice's mother and half sister.

"Control freaks. They're all like that."

Dana Hankins saw that side of Candice, too.

Her son, Steven Michael Sisk, was a tenderhearted, loving boy with a good job at the Lear factory making automobile parts in Madisonville before he took up with Candice, Hankins says.

He never had any trouble with the law.

Hankins liked her son's girlfriend at first. Everybody does. Candice eventually moved in with the family, but after a few months, Hankins got annoyed. Candice told her son what to do all the time. She constantly criticized. Yelled at him.

Candice had to go. Sisk left with her.

That was more than three years ago. His family didn't see him again till the end of June, when his dad got vacation time and took Hankins to the jail in Portage.

She stepped into a narrow room in the county jail and sat on a metal stool in front of a video monitor. Beside the screen was a telephone. Hankins had only 20 minutes.

She couldn't touch her son. Couldn't hold him. She barely recognized him. When she left, Hankins knew her son would never come home again.

"He knew right from wrong," she says, but she can't help but blame Candice. "She ruined all our lives."

Sisk cried the whole time during a call from jail to his grandmother. He hoped she had forgiven him. He was sorry he ruined her life.

"You didn't ruin our lives," Jeanne Loveless remembers telling her 25-year-old grandson. "Not our lives - yours. Best you fall down on your knees and ask God to forgive you."

Portage Cares

They still pray in Portage for the children rescued from 304 W. Oneida St. They even pray for Candice Clark.

Some townspeople were angry at first. They felt the crime gave Portage a black eye. That somehow the rest of the world would think their tight-knit community, nicknamed the Gateway to the North, wasn't caring.

But they turned their shock and outrage into benevolence. Donation jars at local businesses raised $27,351 for Candice's daughters and the Garlin boy. They call the drive Portage Cares.

Maybe, they dreamed as the hundreds of dollars turned to thousands, the fund would grow large enough to become self-sustaining. It could become a lasting, loving legacy for future young victims of abuse and neglect.

When Candice hears about Portage Cares and the bighearted do-gooders who want to help her girls - even adopt them - she grows furious. She wants no sympathy for her children.

"My kids will be very well taken care of," she snaps. "They don't need no community from the city of Portage."

It's Candice, after all, who needs the help.

The House At 304 W. Oneida St.

Nine people from Florida moved into a home in Portage, Wis., in February.

Four months later, police found a "house of horrors." The body of a woman who had been beaten and strangled was buried in the back yard, and her tortured 11-year-old son was locked in a closet.

The nine:

CANDICE CLARK, 23 (aka Ruth Porter): A woman with a history of thefts, Candice prompted a national manhunt in October 2006 when she allegedly snatched her toddler daughter, Courtney, from the care of Florida's Department of Children & Families. Candice faces 11 charges.

COURTNEY CLARK, 2 (aka Brittany) and her two younger half sisters: Courtney was in Florida's protective care system in 2006, following her mother's arrests. She disappeared in October 2006 and wasn't found until police went to the Portage house.

MICHAEL SISK, 25: Candice's boyfriend, the father of her second-youngest daughter, had no history of trouble with the law before he started dating Candice more than three years ago. He, too, is accused in the killing and torture.

MICHAELA CLERC, 20 (aka Raechle Smith): Described as Candice's best friend, she is accused in the torture of the boy but not in the death of his mother.

TAMMIE GARLIN, 36: She had once had a romantic relationship with Clerc. She had a daughter, Felicia, and a son identified in court papers as A. Garlin. Her body was found buried in the back yard.

FELICIA GARLIN, 15 (aka Felicia Gailand): Tammie's daughter initially was charged as an adult in her mother's death and her brother's torture. She since has been placed in Wisconsin's juvenile justice system, where charges are not made public.

A. GARLIN, 11: The boy found in the closet was burned, battered and starved. The physician who initially examined him said he likely would have died of his injuries if he wasn't treated when he was.

Trail Of Deceit

Feb. 21, 2006: Clearwater police arrest Candice Clark and her boyfriend, Michael Sisk, in a local motel, where they are caught with a stolen checkbook. Candice has 20 previous charges and 15 arrest warrants in Kentucky. Sisk is a fugitive from Colorado, where he walked away from a jail work-release program. Candice's 1-year-old daughter, Courtney, goes into state custody.

March 13, 2006: Courtney Clark is reunited with her mother after Candice's release from jail. She moves to Sanford to stay with Tammie Garlin, who has two children and a girlfriend, Michaela Clerc.

July 22, 2006: Candice is arrested again in Seminole County. Courtney goes to live with Clerc's mother, Cynthia Martell, in Lake County. Candice now has another child, but there is no mention of the baby in records.

Oct. 4, 2006: Martell tells a Pinellas County caseworker that Candice took Courtney 10 days ago, saying her case was closed. The caseworker contacts authorities in Colorado, where Candice may be attending Sisk's court hearing. They miss her by minutes.

January 2007: The caseworker tries to report Courtney as a missing child, but the Lake County Sheriff's Office refuses to take the report over the telephone.

February: After months on the lam, Candice, Sisk, Garlin, Clerc and the children rent a house in Portage, Wis.

June 4: Garlin is strangled to death and buried in the back yard of the Portage house.

June 14: Portage police receive a tip that Candice and the others might be hiding in the house. Candice insists she is a woman named Ruth Porter. Officers take her, Clerc and four children into custody. They later find an 11-year-old boy, burned and bruised, held captive in an upstairs closet.

June 15: Police find Tammie Garlin's body buried in a shallow grave in the back yard. Candice later tells reporters her boyfriend killed Garlin after she had a sexual fantasy about Candice. Garlin's daughter tells police Candice contributed to the death.
Tribune archives

Epilogue

COURTNEY CLARK, one of Candice's daughters, turns 3 this month. Courtney and her two younger half sisters remain in Wisconsin's foster care system while relatives fight for custody.

Courtney became a catalyst for change in Florida, with the state's top social services leader apologizing for a series of mistakes that allowed the toddler to remain missing for nine months. Four investigations exposed flaws in the state's system of privatized care. Since then, the agency in charge of Courtney - Sarasota Family YMCA - has lost a three-year, $150 million contract to provide state social services.

MICHAEL SISK, 25, faces life in prison if he is found guilty of the 11 charges brought against him, including intentional homicide and child abuse. He was arrested the day after his companions were taken into custody. Police found him on a bus to Chicago, holding a ticket to Madisonville, Ky. He identified himself as Jeremy. He's to be arraigned Dec. 14.

MICHAELA CLERC, 21, initially was charged with the same crimes as Candice Clark and Sisk, but those related to intentional homicide and hiding a corpse were dismissed last month. She could receive up to 125 years in prison if she is found guilty on the remaining charges. Her arraignment is set for Dec. 14.

TAMMIE GARLIN, 36, was strangled to death sometime around June 4. A coroner's report also showed she had a broken nose, a broken bone in her throat, cuts that had been sewn together by a nonmedical professional, and evidence of a punctured lung. According to her family, she suffered from mental illness and had been in several abusive relationships.

FELICIA GARLIN, 16, was placed in the juvenile court system last month after initially being charged as an adult in her mother's death and brother's torture. "She is a victim," Felicia's public defender said. "She has been a victim her whole life."

A. GARLIN, 12, continues to receive therapy and treatment for his injuries, including amputations of portions of his fingers and toes. He has asked that his privacy be protected.

A year before he was found starved and beaten, he was a chubby, softhearted third-grader with a love of drawing, his Sanford teacher told authorities. He didn't seem to bathe and wore dirty clothes, but had no obvious bruises or burns, the teacher said.

Information from Tribune archives and the Portage Daily Register was used in this report.

About This Story

Tampa Tribune reporter Sherri Ackerman began covering the story of Courtney Clark's disappearance from Florida's care in June, when authorities found the toddler in Wisconsin. That led to a successful court petition for access to state records about Courtney and her mother, Candice Clark, as well as other household members. The records resulted in a series of investigative stories throughout the summer that exposed serious flaws in Florida's child welfare system as well as a dark side to Candice Clark.

In August, Ackerman and photographer Jay Nolan traveled to Madisonville, Ky., and its surrounding towns, where Clark grew up and gave birth to Courtney. There, the journalists met with some of Clark's family members, former friends and acquaintances. Her mother, father and half sister declined to be interviewed in person. Her mother, Ruth Ann Farris, spoke by telephone with Ackerman before the visit, and half sister Sondra DeLaney sent an e-mail with information about Clark. Ackerman culled Clark's criminal history from court records, police reports and interviews with victims.

In September, Ackerman and Nolan traveled to Portage, Wis., where they spoke to Clark and her accused accomplices in jail. Ackerman interviewed police officers, court officials and residents, including neighbors of the Oneida Street house, where authorities discovered Courtney and her mom and found a dead woman buried in the back yard and her tortured son locked in a closet inside.

Information from the Portage Daily Register was used in this report. Tribune researchers Diane Grey and Melanie Coon contributed to this report. Reporter Sherri Ackerman can be reached at (813) 259-7144 or sackerman@tampatrib.com.

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