I really didn’t want to write anything like this again. Especially not so soon.
On January 19, 2025, everything changed for my family. My daughter was taken from us in a violent act that, frankly, should never have happened. In the days and months that followed, I found myself making decisions no grieving parent should ever have to face. I started speaking out publicly about what I believe was a failure in the system that led to my daughter’s death.
I reached out to members of Congress. I did national TV interviews. I wrote and spoke whenever I could—not for attention, but because I truly believe what happened to my daughter was a broader warning. It wasn’t just an isolated incident.
So, I stood firm in my belief: if nothing changes, what happened to us will happen again.
And here we are, more than a year later, and another family is enduring the same nightmare due to Illinois’ shelter policies.
A young college student, just starting her journey, was killed. And yet again, this situation raises troubling questions about our policies and accountability. It makes me wonder if this tragedy could have been avoided, like the one that took my daughter.
I see hurt everywhere. There’s no right answer—it’s only heartbreak.
When I first spoke out, some people listened. Others claimed my daughter’s experience was rare and didn’t warrant changing policy, that the system was functioning as intended. But how many tragic incidents do we have to encounter before we stop calling them exceptional?
This isn’t mere coincidence. It stems from policies, however well-meaning, that create gaps—gaps where individuals cannot be identified, restrained, or excluded. These gaps are where tragedies take place.
This isn’t about placing blame on communities. It’s about responsibility. We need to acknowledge that public policies carry weighty consequences, and when they fail, real lives are lost.
Over the past year, I’ve tried to transform my grief into something constructive. I’ve met with lawmakers and shared my daughter’s story repeatedly. I advocate for changes that I believe could spare other families from our heartbreak.
Yet, here we are again.
Another young life extinguished. Another family forever altered. We’re left asking questions for which we already know the answers.
How many warnings will it take?
How many more families will suffer before we confront the reality that something’s deeply flawed?
I won’t claim to have all the answers. But I do know this: ignoring these issues won’t fix them. Treating these tragedies as isolated events won’t stop the next one.
Should anything occur again, I can assure that it will repeat itself.
To those experiencing this pain right now, my heart goes out to you. I understand the shock, the anger, the indescribable sadness. I know the late-night questions that haunt you. I’m deeply sorry that the warnings came too late to protect you.
We owe it to everyone affected to strive for better.
